The Zombie With Golden Hair

Maya loved building pyramids in her backyard. One Saturday, she stacked thirty-seven orange crates into the perfect pyramid shape. The sun made her hair stick to her forehead in salty loops, but she didn't care. She was an explorer, and this was her monument.

That's when she heard the sneeze.

It came from INSIDE her orange pyramid. Maya froze. A small green hand poked through the crates, followed by a very confused face.

"B-b-bello?" said the creature.

Maya stepped closer. It looked like a zombie boy, about her age, with patchy green skin and stitches on his cheek. But his eyes were kind, and his wild orange hair stuck up like flames.

"I'm Zombot," he said. "I've been asleep in this magical orange crate pyramid for exactly one hundred years. What year is it?"

"2026," Maya whispered.

Zombot's eyes widened. "I missed my birthday! Every single one of them!"

Maya giggled. "Well, we can celebrate now. Do you like cake?"

Zombot's face lit up. "More than anything!"

They spent the afternoon playing. Zombot wasn't scary at all. He told Maya about the olden days when people rode horses to school. Maya showed him her tablet and let him play games. Zombot's clumsy fingers made him lose every time, but he laughed harder than anyone Maya had ever met.

When the sun began to set, Zombot's hair started fading to grey.

"What's happening?" Maya worried.

"The magic of the orange pyramid is wearing off," Zombot said sadly. "I'll have to go back to sleep for another hundred years."

Maya's heart squeezed. "But... but you're my friend now."

She grabbed a perfect orange from the crate pyramid. "Eat this. My grandma says oranges keep you young forever."

Zombot took a bite. His hair flamed orange again, even brighter than before. "It works! The magic is in friendship AND oranges!"

Maya and Zombot built a new pyramid together, smaller this time, and filled it with oranges so he'd never run out of magic. And every year on his birthday, Maya added one more orange—for each year they'd been friends.

Sometimes the best discoveries aren't gold or treasure. They're friends who were waiting exactly one hundred years to find you.