The Zombie Party

Maya's heart hammered against her ribs as she stood outside Jordan's house. The thumping bass vibrated through the door. This was it — her first real high school party. Her hand tightened around her iPhone, her digital lifeline. Inside, she'd posted on her story: 'About to enter the zombie apocalypse' with a skull emoji. Because obviously, Jordan's Halloween-in-April zombie theme party was the social event of the season.

She'd spent forty-five minutes on her makeup — pale foundation, dark circles under her eyes, fake blood dripping from her mouth. She looked like she'd crawled out of a grave. The irony wasn't lost on her; she felt like a zombie half the time anyway, stumbling through junior year with three hours of sleep and an endless feed of everyone else's seemingly perfect lives.

The door swung open. Heat and the smell of cheap cologne and fruit punch hit her. People were everywhere — grinding, laughing, taking group selfies that would vanish from their feeds in twenty-four hours. Maya's throat went dry. She fumbled with her phone, checking the screen for the hundredth time. Nothing. No new likes. No messages from her friends who'd bailed.

Then she felt it — her phone dying at 8%. The panic set in fast. She needed her charging cable, but obviously she'd forgotten it at home. Jordan's outlets were probably all occupied anyway.

'Maya!' Jordan materialized through the crowd, his zombie makeup already smeared. 'You made it!'

'Yeah,' she managed, her voice barely audible over the music. 'Cool party.' She felt like the world's most awkward zombie.

'Come meet everyone.' He steered her toward the basement. That's when she saw it — a glass bowl on a shelf, illuminated by a strand of purple LED lights. A single goldfish swam in lazy circles, completely unaware of the chaos around it.

'That's Frank,' Jordan said, following her gaze. 'My little sister's. She made me promise to check on him every hour. Pretty weird, right?'

Maya found herself smiling. 'Actually,' she said, 'he's got the right idea. Just swimming in circles, minding his business, while everyone else loses their minds.'

Jordan laughed. 'Exactly. Want to help me feed him?'

They ended up in Jordan's room, the bass from the party reduced to a dull thud. Maya's phone died completely. For the first time in months, she sat without checking notifications, without doom-scrolling, without performing for an audience. They sprinkled fish food into the bowl and watched Frank eat, talking about everything and nothing — how much junior year sucked, their mutual fear of college applications, the way zombie movies were actually just metaphors for how numb school made everyone feel.

When Maya's mom picked her up two hours later, Maya didn't immediately reach for her phone. She didn't check how many views her story got. She just kept thinking about Frank the goldfish, swimming in his peaceful little circle, and Jordan's laugh when she'd said zombies were basically just tired teenagers with better makeup.

Her phone stayed dead until she got home. She didn't even care. She'd survived her first party, made a real connection, and gone analog for three hours. The zombie apocalypse could wait.