The Zombie Apocalypse Club

Nobody warned me that high school would feel like being the walking dead. After two weeks of zero sleep thanks to finals and my parents' divorce, I was basically a zombie—dragging through hallways, eyes glazed, surviving on vending machine snacks.

Then I found the flyer: ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE SURVIVAL CLUB. Thursdays, Room 304.

What I expected: nerds with foam swords. What I found: Tyler, the cute lacrosse player, sitting cross-legged on a desk.

"We don't actually believe in zombies," he said, grinning. "It's code. This is the I Hate This Place club."

His dog—a giant golden retriever named Bear—lay sprawled across three chairs.

"Bear?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tyler shrugged. "My little sister named him. She's five."

For the first time in months, I laughed. Actually laughed.

Every Thursday after that, I'd show up to Room 304. We'd complain about teachers, share snacks (Tyler always brought those spinach wraps that tasted like grass but somehow grew on me), and Bear would snore through our existential crises.

One day Tyler asked, "Why did you really join?"

I told him everything. The divorce, the feeling of being dead inside, the way my supposed best friend had ghosted me when things got messy.

Tyler nodded. "My mom died last year. Everyone acted like everything was normal, like I should just... move on. So I started this club. A place where it's okay to not be okay."

Bear nudged my hand with his wet nose.

"This dog," Tyler said, "is a better friend than most people I know."

Something shifted in that room. Not just friendship—something else. The zombie feeling started to fade.

Two months later, Tyler and I walked Bear to the park. He grabbed my hand, and I didn't pull away.

"Hey," he said. "You're looking a lot less undead these days."

I smiled. "Must be the spinach."

Sometimes the worst parts of your life lead you to exactly where you need to be. Sometimes it takes a zombie club, a dog with a confusing name, and a guy who brings terrible wraps to remind you that you're not dead inside.

You're just beginning.