The Zombie Apocalypse Makeup Fail

I'd spent three hours perfecting my zombie costume for Jordan's Halloween party. Three. Hours. My mom kept poking her head in, asking if I was actually going to wear my lucky beanie hat instead of the fake blood I'd splattered across my forehead. She didn't get it. This wasn't just any party — Jordan would be there, and she'd finally broken up with Tyler last week.

I looked in the mirror one last time. Pale green foundation? Check. Fake wounds that looked disturbingly real? Double check. Contact lenses that made my eyes look milky and dead? Absolutely terrifying.

My dog, Buster, trotted into my room and immediately started barking like I was a stranger.

"It's me, buddy," I said, my voice cracking. This was already off to a great start.

When I arrived at Jordan's house, the party was in full swing. Someone had spiked the punch bowl with ginger ale (shocking, I know), and a group of sophomores were doing some TikTok dance in the middle of the living room. I spotted Jordan immediately — she was dressed as a vampire, looking effortless in a red dress.

Then I spotted Tyler, dressed as a werewolf, naturally.

I made my way across the room, trying to look cool and not like I'd been practicing walking like a zombie in my bedroom for days. But before I could even say hey to Jordan, disaster struck.

A seventh grader dressed as a ninja accidentally elbowed me in the face, and my contact lens fell out. I was suddenly winking at Jordan with one milky eye while my other eye looked completely normal.

"Your costume's glitching," she said, and I swear she was trying not to laugh.

Then Buster, who'd somehow followed me to the party (my mom must have left the front door open again), burst in and tackled me. He started happily licking the fake blood off my face while everyone stared.

"That's... dedicated," Jordan said. "Bring your own zombie dog?"

I wanted to die. Just literally cease existing right there on Jordan's parents' carpet.

But then she laughed. Not the mean laugh, but the real one.

"You're ridiculous," she said, pulling my hat out of my back pocket where I'd stuffed it and putting it on my head. "But in a good way."

We spent the rest of the night sitting on the porch, my dog sleeping at our feet, while she talked about how Tyler had been more like a zombie than a boyfriend anyway. I couldn't believe my luck. Sometimes the disasters are the best part of the story.