Poolside Apocalypse

The August heat had turned me into a certified zombie. I'd spent the entire summer scrolling through my phone, barely leaving my room, and now—two weeks before sophomore year—I was finally Maya's invited guest to her legendary end-of-summer pool party.

I stood by the gate, clutching my dad's oversized bucket hat like it was a shield. The hat was hideous—tan with a weird fish pattern—but it was my armor. If I wore it, maybe nobody would notice I hadn't spoken to another human being in seventy-two hours.

"You coming in or what?"

I jumped. It was Lucas, my former best friend. The one who'd ghosted me all summer after I got too weird at the movies. The one whose Instagram stories showed him living his best life while I decayed in my air-conditioned coffin.

"Yeah," I managed. "Just... appreciating the fence architecture."

He laughed, and something in my chest did that stupid fluttery thing. "You still have that fish hat?"

"It's iconic."

"It's ridiculous." But he was smiling. "Come on. Everyone's in the pool."

The patio was packed with people from school, all slick with sunscreen and chlorine. Maya waved from the deep end, holding a neon pool noodle like a weapon. I froze. This was it. The social reentry. The moment I either reintegrated into the ecosystem or remained a zombie forever.

Lucas grabbed my hand. His palm was warm and slightly damp. "Race you."

"What?"

"Last one in is a... zombie." His eyes crinkled. "Too soon?"

I shoved my fish hat onto his head. "You're on."

We cannonballed simultaneously, and the water swallowed us whole—cool and shocking and perfect. When I surfaced, gasping and spluttering, Lucas was already there, grinning, wearing my ridiculous hat like a crown.

"Welcome back to the world," he said.

And for the first time all summer, I didn't feel like I was sleepwalking through my own life.