The Zombie Spy Protocol

Marcus stood outside Jenna's house, heart hammering like he'd just downed three energy drinks back-to-back. His first real party. Not that lame birthday bash with pizza and board games—this was the kind with Solo cups and questionable decisions.

"You good, bro?" Ty slung an arm around his shoulders, grinning like he'd already mentally captioned this for Instagram. "Don't be a zombie about it. We're literally just walking in."

Marcus forced a laugh. "Totally chill. Just mentally preparing."

Inside, bass thumped against his ribs. The air smelled like tropical punch and something expensive. Someone had brought a whole papaya—why, nobody knew—and it sat on the kitchen counter like an exotic artifact, surrounded by chip bags and red cups.

"Spy mission activate," Ty whispered, pointing toward the living room where Jenna stood amid her friends, laughing at something someone said. She looked effortless in a cropped sweatshirt, while Marcus felt like he'd dressed in the dark during an earthquake.

"I'm not spying," Marcus protested. "I'm observing. Strategic reconnaissance."

"Same thing, my guy. Same thing."

They grabbed drinks. Marcus leaned against the wall, trying to look like someone who belonged at parties instead of someone who once cried because his Netflix subscription expired. That's when he saw him—Caleb, the bull of sophomore year, towering over everyone with that smirk that made you rethink your life choices.

"Sup, nerd," Caleb said, appearing behind Marcus like he'd materialized from the awkward dimension. "Having fun staring at Jenna from across the room? That's not creepy at all."

Marcus's face burned. "I wasn't—"

"Relax," Caleb's dog, Buster—some golden retriever puppy someone had brought—bounded over and nearly tripped him. "I'm messing with you. She asked about you earlier, by the way."

"She what?" Marcus's brain short-circuited.

"Chill, zombie boy. Go talk to her before I change my mind and start actually roasting you."

Marcus stood there, processing, while Ty cackled. Jenna glanced over, catching his eye. She smiled—actually smiled—and raised her cup slightly.

"Well," Marcus said, straightening his shirt. "Strategic reconnaissance complete. Time to engage."

"There he is," Ty called as Marcus walked away. "The papaya of confidence has finally ripened."

"That makes zero sense!" Marcus shot back, but he was already moving toward her, heart pounding, feeling like maybe—just maybe—he might survive his first party after all.