The Zombie's Last Stand

I stood by the **water** slide feeling like a total **zombie**. Finals week had turned my brain into mush, and somehow I'd let Jake talk me into coming to his pool party anyway. The humidity was oppressive, and my zombie makeup - smeared gray foundation and dark circles - wasn't helping.

Everyone else was having the time of their lives. Sarah was laughing at something Tyler said, her **orange** bikini bright against the blue water. I'd been crushing on her since September, when she'd complimented my horror movie drawing in art class. Now she was twelve feet away, and I was stuck in the corner like a background character.

Then the wifi died.

The music cut mid-song, and someone yelled, "Who tripped over the **cable**?"

I saw it immediately - the ethernet cord had been pulled loose from the router near the snack table. Before I could think twice, I knelt down and reconnected it. The router lights flickered green, and the music blasted back on. Party saved.

Sarah appeared beside me, wiping water from her face. "You fixed it? That was actually kinda clutch."

"Just needed to be reseated," I said, trying to sound casual while my heart hammered.

"I'm Sarah, by the way."

"Marcus."

"Cool costume, by the way. Very subtle." She grinned. "I like that you're not trying too hard."

We ended up talking for twenty minutes about everything from our mutual hatred of calculus to why zombie movies are actually depressing metaphors for capitalism. She laughed at my jokes - really laughed - and for the first time all night, I didn't feel like a zombie. I felt awake.

"You should come to the film club meeting next week," she said. "We're doing a Romero marathon."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely." She squeezed my arm. "Besides, someone needs to explain all the capitalism metaphors to me."

I watched her walk back toward the pool, orange bikini bright against the blue water, and realized something: sometimes you have to be a zombie before you can come alive.