Summer of the Living Zombie

My summer officially ended at the community pool, where I stood wearing a ridiculous sun hat my mom insisted would protect my "pale Irish skin." I looked like a suburban scarecrow. Everyone else was swimming, laughing, acting like summer was supposed to be this magical endless vibe, while I was just trying not to look like I was having a panic attack.

"Hey Dylan!" Maya called from the pool edge, dripping wet and annoyingly confident. "We're playing padel later at the rec center. You coming?"

Padel. Right. Because nothing says cool teenager like racquet sports with people who've already figured out their whole aesthetic. I'd been surviving on three hours of sleep and existential dread all week, basically functioning like a zombie with good grades.

"Maybe!" I lied, adjusting the hat that was somehow both too tight and slipping off.

Maya waved like she actually believed me. That was the thing about popular kids – they gave you chances even when you didn't deserve them. Meanwhile, I was overthinking everything, analyzing Maya's wave for hidden sarcasm, wondering if my hair was doing something weird under the hat.

Then Ethan, who'd been swimming laps like his life depended on it, hauled himself out of the pool. Water droplets running down his stupid perfect jawline. He looked at me, actually looked at me.

"Nice hat," he said, and I couldn't tell if he was being genuine or if this was some elaborate joke I wasn't in on.

"Thanks," I squeaked. I swore I heard my social life flatlining.

"Seriously." He toweled his hair. "You want to play padel with us? Maya says you're actually good."

The zombie inside me woke up. Maybe – just maybe – I wasn't as invisible as I thought. Maybe the hat wasn't ruining everything. Maybe summer wasn't over yet.

"Yeah," I said, suddenly surprised to find it was true. "I'd love to."

I didn't take off the hat. But for the first time all summer, I didn't feel like hiding under it either.