The Zombie Dog Whisperer

Marcus dragged himself through the hallway, feeling like a total zombie after staying up until 3 AM grinding ranked matches. His eyes burned, and his brain felt like it was running on 2% battery. Junior year was absolutely cooking him.

"Watch it, freak," someone shoved against his shoulder. Hard.

Marcus clenched his jaw. It was Tyler and his crew—the same bull crap they pulled every day. Tyler had made it his mission to make Marcus's life miserable since 7th grade, just because Marcus wore band tees and kept to himself. The classic jock-vs-outcast playbook, tired and rewritten.

But today something snapped. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Maybe it was just time.

"Yo Tyler," Marcus called out, his voice surprisingly steady. "Your dog left his backpack in the cafeteria again."

The whole hall went silent. Tyler's face turned the color of bruised fruit.

"What did you call me?" Tyler stepped closer, chest puffed out like an angry rooster.

"You heard me," Marcus said, suddenly feeling electric. "Always barking orders, chasing people around. Figured you needed a leash."

Someone snorted. Then another person. Tyler's minions looked uncertain, like the script had been flipped and nobody had given them the new lines.

"Whatever," Tyler muttered, grabbing his bag and storming off. "You're weird, Marcus."

"Weird like a fox, baby," someone whispered behind him.

Maya, the girl from his English class, gave him a subtle fist bump as she walked past. Her eyes said: I see you.

Marcus stood there, heart hammering against his ribs. For the first time in forever, he didn't feel invisible. He felt dangerous. He felt real.

That night, his actual dog—a chaotic golden retriever named Bean—jumped on his bed while he was supposed to be studying. Bean licked his face, and Marcus laughed until his stomach hurt.

"You're a good boy," he whispered, scratching behind Bean's ears. "Unlike some people."

His phone buzzed. A notification from Maya: *That was legendary today.*

Marcus smiled, the zombie fog finally lifting. Turns out, standing up to one bully could wake you up faster than any amount of sleep.