The Zombie Pool Party Protocol

Leo stood at the edge of Jessica Miller's backyard pool, clutching his phone like a lifeline. His dad's old baseball cap was pulled low, hiding eyes that hadn't seen enough sleep since school ended three weeks ago. He felt like a zombie—a video game, energy-drink-fueled zombie, but still.

"You coming in or what?" called Tyler, Jessica's golden retriever, paddling happily in the shallow end like he owned the place. The dog had more confidence than Leo had ever possessed in his sixteen years of existence.

"Yeah, just... you know," Leo mumbled, pretending to check a notification. The truth was, he didn't know how to swim. Not really. He could doggy-paddle enough not to drown, but that was about it. In a town where everyone joined the swim team by sixth grade, this was social suicide.

Jessica emerged from the pool house, towel-drying her hair. "Leo! Finally made it!" She grinned, and his stomach did that stupid flip thing it always did when she actually noticed him. "Tyler trying to recruit you?"

"Tyler's living his best life," Leo said, gesturing to the dog, who was now attempting to retrieve a floating noodle. "More confident than me, honestly."

"Join the club." She dropped onto the lounge chair beside him. "I still have nightmares about the time I froze up at regionals freshman year. Everyone thought I was literally dead in the water."

Leo blinked. "Wait, really? Miss Perfect-Swim-Captain Jessica?"

"Failed the diving portion. Catastrophically." She laughed, but her face softened. "We're all just pretending to know what we're doing, Leo. Even Tyler has anxiety. He ate my homework twice last week."

"Typical." Leo adjusted his baseball cap, something loosening in his chest. "So... what's the protocol for feeling like a zombie at a pool party?"

"Easy." Jessica stood up. "You start in the shallow end, you doggy-paddle like nobody's watching, and you let Tyler judge your technique. He's surprisingly critical."

The golden retriever barked in agreement.

Leo took off his cap. His hair was a mess from wearing it all day. "Okay. But if I drown—"

"Tyler's certified in CPR," she called over her shoulder, already wading in. "Probably. We'll find out together."

As Leo dipped his toes into the water, he realized something: maybe being a zombie wasn't about being dead inside. Maybe it was about the slow, awkward process of coming back to life. One shallow end at a time.