The Zombie Apocalypse Practice

The third time the baseball hit my glove, my arm felt like it might detach and walk away. Summer tryouts were brutal, and Coach Martinez had us running drills until we all moved like the undead.

"You look like a zombie," Isaiah said, tossing me a water bottle. His grin was easy, comfortable - the same grin I'd been seeing since third grade.

I caught it gratefully. "Feel like one too."

But Isaiah wasn't really looking at me. His eyes kept drifting toward the varsity players by the fence, the ones he'd been hanging with since his name appeared on their roster last week. That tiny detail changed everything.

"Wanna come over after?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "We could finally finish that zombie game."

He hesitated. "Actually, Jordan invited me to his pool. His parents got this new sound system, and we're gonna..."

Right. Jordan. Jordan, whose dad knew the coach. Jordan, who'd somehow become Isaiah's new best friend over the span of five days.

"No worries," I said, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Have fun."

Isaiah didn't even notice the edge in my voice. That's how far gone we already were.

That night, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling while my TV flickered with some cheesy apocalypse movie on cable. Zombie actors shambled across the screen, and suddenly it clicked - that was me. Walking around like everything was normal when my whole social world had already ended.

My phone buzzed. Isaiah: "Jordan's having people over Friday. You should come."

I stared at it. This was it - the olive branch, or maybe just him being nice. Either way, I had to decide: be the zombie who shows up wherever he's invited, or actually figure out who I was without him.

The next day at practice, I watched Isaiah laughing with Jordan by the dugout. Something in my chest unclenched. I picked up my glove, headed to the field, and for the first time all week, I didn't look back at the fence to see if he was watching.

Some apocalypses aren't the end. They're just the messy part before whatever comes next.