The Zombie Cat Incident

Maya's older brother dared us. That's how it always starts, right? Some stupid dare that seems brilliant at 11 PM on a Friday when your best friend is sleeping over and you've had way too much Dr. Pepper.

"I'm not **running** through the woods," I said, even though we were already standing in Jake's backyard, the porch light flickering like it was judging us.

"Coward," Maya said, but she was grinning. She'd had a crush on Jake since seventh grade, and the way she kept flipping her hair told me she'd follow him into literally anything. Even the woods behind his house that everyone said were haunted because some kid saw a **bear** there in 2018.

Spoiler: bears don't live in suburban Connecticut.

"I'm not a coward, I'm smart," I said. But then Jake's phone buzzed – a text from his cousin who was supposed to bring us to Tyler's party. "Can't make it. Car broke down lol."

Party cancelled. Jake looked defeated. Maya looked like she wanted to die. So I said, "Fine. Let's go."

Because apparently I'm an idiot who can't let my friends feel disappointed, even if it means wandering through dark woods at midnight.

We'd gone like five minutes when we heard it. A **zombie**-like moaning coming from somewhere in the bushes.

Okay, pause. I don't believe in zombies. Obviously. But when you're fifteen and it's dark and you've been watching The Walking Dead during math class for three weeks because your teacher has literally given up, your brain does things.

"What was that?" Maya whispered, clutching Jake's arm like her life depended on it.

"Probably a **cat**," I said, trying to sound brave even though my heart was basically trying to escape my chest. "Stray cats make weird noises."

Then something jumped out at us.

I may have screamed. Just a little.

It was Jake's neighbor's **bull**, escaped from wherever they kept livestock (why did they have a bull in Connecticut? I still don't know). The thing stared at us, snorted, and we all just stood there frozen because none of us had ever been in a situation where we needed to outrun a farm animal.

Then the bull charged.

We **ran**. We ran so hard I could taste copper in my throat and my lungs were screaming and branches were slapping my face and I was thinking this is it, this is how I die, trampled by a bull while my friends record my death on TikTok.

We made it back to Jake's yard and collapsed on the grass, panting, covered in dirt and scratches and completely alive.

The bull stood at the edge of the trees, snorted at us one more time, then turned around and walked away.

"We survived," Jake said, like we'd just returned from war.

Maya started laughing, this breathless impossible laugh, and then I was laughing too, and even Jake was cracking up, and we lay there under the porch light while our hearts slowed down and I thought maybe this wasn't the worst night ever.

"Yeah," I said, wiping dirt off my face. "We survived."

And the weirdest part? I think that was the moment I realized I'd follow these idiots anywhere. Even if it meant running from bulls in the middle of the night. Even if it meant almost getting caught by Jake's mom, who came outside five minutes later asking why we were all covered in mud.

"Zombie chase," Jake said smoothly. "You know how it is."

She looked at us like we were insane, then shook her head and went back inside.

Somehow, that made it perfect.