The Zombie Apocalypse Squad

Marcus flopped onto the couch, the worn leather creaking under his weight. Summer after eighth grade stretched ahead like an endless desert of boredom—until his older brother Jared messed with the cable box again.

"Dude!" Marcus yelled, grabbing the remote. "I was gonna catch that new zombie show marathon!"

Jared just laughed from the kitchen. "Chill, little bro. We've got bigger problems. Mom says we're dragging you to Aunt Sarah's pool party."

Marcus groaned. His cousins were okay, but the neighbor kids? Total nightmare. Especially Emily, who'd called him "weird" at school for carrying his D&D manual everywhere.

The car ride felt like a death march. When they pulled up, chaos already reigned. Aunt Sarah's golden retriever, Buster, bounded toward them, tennis ball clamped in his jaws like some fluffy treasure hunter.

"Marcus!" His friend Javier appeared from behind a hedge, phone in hand. "Bro, you survived. I've been stuck here for an hour playing zombie games with the littles."

But then Marcus saw her—Emily, floating in the pool on a neon pink flamingo, wet hair slicked back, actually smiling. Not the fake smile she used at school when someone made a joke she didn't get.

She waved. "Hey! You guys should play. We're doing zombie apocalypse laser tag in the backyard."

Marcus blinked. "You... like zombie stuff?"

Emily laughed—it was genuine, bright. "Are you kidding? My whole Twitch channel is horror games. I thought you were the one who thought I was weird for carrying that D&D manual everywhere."

Javier snorted. "Classic miscommunication."

"Wait," Marcus said slowly. "You watch my Twitch streams?"

"Every Friday night," Emily said, paddling to the pool's edge. "Your commentary is hilarious."

Buster chose that moment to shake himself off directly next to them, spraying water everywhere. Emily squealed, Marcus jumped back, and Javier—poor Javier—took a direct hit to the face.

"That's it," Emily said, grinning. "Zombie dogs are now part of the apocalypse. You're coming, right?"

Marcus looked at Javier, who was already wiping water from his glasses and grinning. He looked at Emily, who was actually looking at him like he was someone worth talking to. He looked at Buster, who'd already found another tennis ball and was trotting triumphantly away.

"Yeah," Marcus said, something unfamiliar blooming in his chest—like possibility, like the start of something real. "I'm coming."