The Zombie Who Loved Baseball

Leo's brown HAIR always stuck up like a hay haystack, no matter how much he combed it. But that didn't matter when he stepped onto the baseball field. Baseball was his favorite thing in the whole world.

One hot afternoon, Leo walked to the old baseball diamond behind the park. Nobody ever went there anymore. The grass was tall, and the backstop was rusty. But Leo loved it because he could practice for hours without anyone watching.

Thwack! He hit the ball and ran around the bases, imagining thousands of fans cheering his name.

"Nice hit," said a scratchy voice.

Leo jumped! A ZOMBIE was sitting on the old bleachers—green skin, tattered clothes, and one shoe missing.

Leo screamed and grabbed his baseball bat. But the zombie didn't move. It just held up its hands slowly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," it said. "I'm just lonely. I used to play baseball here, fifty years ago."

Leo lowered his bat. "You... played baseball?"

"I was the best pitcher in town," the zombie said sadly. "Then I fell asleep in the dugout and... well, I woke up like this. Nobody wants to play with a zombie."

Leo looked at the zombie's friendly eyes. They weren't scary at all. They were sad.

"I'll play with you," Leo said. "But I'm not very good at hitting."

The zombie smiled. "I can help. Hold the bat like this."

For two hours, the zombie taught Leo how to stand, how to swing, and how to keep his eye on the ball. Leo's hair stuck up even more from running, but he didn't care.

"Tomorrow's the big game," Leo said. "I wish you could come."

The zombie shook its head. "People would be scared. But I'll be cheering for you."

The next day, Leo hit the game-winning home run. His wild hair flew behind him as he ran the bases. That night, he brought a trophy back to the old field.

"We won!" Leo said.

The zombie's green face glowed with pride. "I knew you could do it."

And every day after that, Leo visited his friend. He learned that the scariest things aren't always what they seem—and sometimes, the best friends come from the most unexpected places.