Three AM Zombie Protocol

I was running on three hours of sleep and pure adrenaline when it happened. Track practice had run late, then Maya had finally texted me back after two weeks of ghosting, and now—3 AM—I was sneaking out to feed Mrs. Henderson's goldfish while she was in the hospital. My life was a mess of unfinished assignments and social anxiety.

Then I saw him: a figure shambling toward me in the dim streetlight, arms outstretched, making this low groaning sound.

My sleep-deprived brain immediately went zombie. Obviously. I'd seen enough movies with Jayden to know protocol.

I froze. The zombie kept coming. I gripped the goldfish food container like a weapon—because what else was I supposed to do?

"AURGHHHH," the zombie moaned.

That's when I noticed the details: the letterman jacket, the messy hair I'd stared at in chemistry too many times. The zombie was Tyler Evans, golden boy and somehow also my pathetic crush.

"Dude," I whispered. "Are you okay?"

"I think I'm dying," Tyler slurred, then promptly face-planted onto the sidewalk.

Turns out Tyler wasn't a zombie. He was bear-wasted from his first-ever party and had somehow wandered three miles from where the rich kids hosted things. I spent twenty minutes half-carrying, half-dragging him while he kept calling me "bro" and asking if I'd seen his phone.

The goldfish survived. Tyler remembered approximately none of it, except somehow my contact ended up saved as "Goldfish Girl" in his phone. Now he waves at me in the hallway with this weird grin, and Jayden won't stop making zombie apocalypse jokes whenever Tyler's around.

But Maya finally agreed to hang out this weekend, so I'll take the small wins.