Poolside Apocalypse

The sun beat down on the community pool like it had a personal vendetta against my dignity. I adjusted my fedora—yes, a fedora, because 15-year-old me thought it made me look mysterious instead of ridiculous—and tried to look like I belonged at Jake Miller's party.

"Yo, Mario, you gonna swim or just model that hat all day?" Chloe called out. She was sitting poolside with the popular crew, her palm resting on a bright yellow towel. Her smile made my stomach do that annoying flip-flop thing.

I'd finally been invited to The Party of the Summer, and naturally, I'd brought my little brother Leo along because our parents were "date night" obsessed and someone had to watch him. Leo was currently eight years old and determined to prove he could swim the entire pool underwater without coming up for air.

"I'm good," I said, smoothing down my shirt. "Just chilling."

Chloe's dad grilled burgers. The smell was incredible. I loaded my plate with everything, including what I thought was a harmless side of greens. One bite later and I realized my mistake: it was spinach salad. With poppy seeds. Stuck in my teeth. While talking to the girl I'd had a crush on since seventh grade.

I excused myself to the bathroom, where I spent seven minutes performing emergency dental surgery with my fingernails. When I returned, Leo was standing on the diving board, pale as a ghost.

"Mario," he whispered, eyes wide. "I think I saw a zombie."

"What?" I rushed over. "A zombie? Where?"

"In the deep end," Leo said, pointing with a trembling finger. "It keeps floating up and then sinking back down."

I peered into the shimmering blue water. A figure did indeed keep bobbing up—a zombie? In a suburban pool? My mind raced through every episode of The Walking Dead I'd ever seen.

"EVERYBODY OUT OF THE POOL!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "THERE'S A—A SITUATION!"

Chloe's dad jumped in, trained lifeguard instincts kicking in. He surfaced with Jake's little sister, who'd been practicing holding her breath underwater way too long. She laughed, gasping for air, while the entire party stared at me.

"Dude," Jake said, "you thought my sister was a zombie?"

My face burned hotter than the asphalt. I adjusted my hat—my terrible, pretentious hat—and started to laugh. Because what else could I do?

"Better safe than sorry," I said, grinning despite myself.

Chloe swam over to the edge, grinning up at me. "Actually," she said, "that was pretty heroic. Even if it was dramatic."

She held up her palm for a high five. I slapped it, spinach-free and ridiculous-hat-wearing, and for the first time all summer, I felt like I actually belonged.