The Dog Who Broke My Zombie Streak

Monday morning hits different when you've been doom-scrolling until 3 AM. I'm basically a zombie—pale skin, eyes like I haven't seen sunlight in days, brain operating on 50% battery and pure spite. My mom's all about this "new padel craze" that's sweeping through our friend group, so naturally, she signs me up for lessons at the swanky country club where all the popular kids hang.

"It'll be fun, Maya! You'll make friends!" she says, like friendship is something you can just unlock like a TikTok filter.

So there I am, standing at the padel court in my cute new athletic set that I definitely can't afford, trying not to look like I'd rather be rotting in bed. The group includes Tyler—the absolute moment of our grade—and his squad of effortlessly cool friends who all seem to know exactly what they're doing with those funky padel rackets.

"You good?" Tyler asks, and I practically choke on my own awkwardness. "Yeah, totally just vibing," I say, while my internal monologue is screaming ABORT MISSION.

We're mid-game, and I'm actually not embarrassing myself too badly, when suddenly the court gates BURST OPEN and my chaotic golden retriever, Buster, comes tearing in like he's auditioning for a Marvel movie. He's got my lucky pillow in his mouth—the one I've had since I was five—and he's making this unholy screeching sound.

"BUSTER, NO!" I scream, but it's too late. He's sliding across the padel court, knocking over water bottles like bowling pins, directly toward where Tyler is about to serve. The whole scene goes dead silent. I'm ready to transfer schools, change my name, and start a new life as a hermit in Wyoming.

But then Tyler starts laughing. Not mean laughing, but like, actually cracking up. Soon everyone's losing it, and even I have to smile when Buster flops down next to me, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

"Your dog's literally iconic," Tyler says, handing me my pillow. "And you're actually decent at padel for a zombie."

I'm so shocked I almost forget to respond. "Thanks? I think?"

Long story short, Buster's chaotic intervention broke the weird ice, and I actually spent the rest of the game joking around with everyone. My zombie streak? Officially over. And maybe, just maybe, my mom's cringe padel plan wasn't total garbage after all.