Summer of the Undead Heart - Every Minute a Story

The chlorine stung my eyes as I cannonballed into the **pool**, surfacing to find Jake Miller laughing at my splash radius. Nice, he said, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. I'd been crushing on him since seventh grade, and now, three years later, he was finally at my summer pool party.

My best friend Maya gave me the eyebrows from the shallow end, where she was pretending not to watch Carlos—Jake's best friend—attempt a handstand. We'd spent last night at my house, zombie-marathon-watching until 3 AM, both of us analyzing every text Jake had sent me that week.

Hey, wanna play? Jake asked, holding up a water **baseball** my brother had left floating.

Sure, I said, trying to sound casual. My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape my chest.

We played for twenty minutes, my team (me and Maya's little brother) versus Jake and Carlos. I was having fun, actually having fun, until I noticed Maya frantically waving me over to the side.

You have something in your teeth, she whispered.

I froze. What?

**Spinach**, she said. From the veggie pizza earlier. It's really visible.

I felt my face burn hotter than the July sun. I'd been smiling at Jake with green stuff stuck in my teeth for twenty minutes. TWENTY MINUTES.

I ducked underwater, pretending I needed to fix my goggles, and used my finger to scrape away the evidence. When I came up, Jake was looking at me, confused.

You good?

Yeah, I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Just... zombie tired from last night.

He grinned. Well, you're still a beast at water baseball. Same time next week?

I nodded, unable to speak, certain I'd just ruined everything.

But later that night, my phone buzzed. Jake: Had fun today. You're funny when you're embarassed. Still can't believe you beat me at baseball though.

I fell back on my bed, grinning at the ceiling. Maybe the spinach incident wasn't fatal after all. Sometimes the most mortifying moments become the best stories—or inside jokes, or the start of something real. Summer wasn't over yet.