When Zombies Crashed Our Poolside

The August heat wave had turned everyone at Tyler's pool party into half-functioning zombies. I lay on a lounge chair, phone burning my thigh, watching Katie's golden retriever **dog** chase a chlorinated tennis ball into the water again and again.

"You're so antisocial today," Jenna said, flopping onto the chair beside mine. Her bikini top matched her Instagram aesthetic perfectly, because everything matched Jenna's aesthetic perfectly.

"I'm in mourning," I said.

"For your social life?"

"For my cat. Luna escaped this morning. My mom is literally crying in the kitchen."

Jenna made sympathetic noises while texting someone else. Typical.

Then Tyler appeared, shirtless and holding a plate with weird orange slices. "Yo, try this. My mom got it from that exotic grocery store. It's called **papaya**."

I took a slice. It tasted like summer sunshine and something I couldn't place. "Actually kind of slaps."

"Right?" Tyler's teeth were blindingly white. "We're doing zombie movie marathon tonight. You coming?"

Before I could answer, a commotion erupted by the **pool** gate. A mangy orange cat — Luna — trotted in like she owned the place, carrying something dead in her mouth. The **dog** went berserk, barking and splashing water everywhere.

"LUNA!" I scrambled up, not caring that my phone face-planted on the concrete.

The cat dropped her prize at Tyler's feet. A dead mouse. Jenna screamed. Tyler stared. And I realized my cat was cooler than all of us combined.

"Guess she found her way home," I said, scooping up my murder-mouse pet.

Tyler laughed. "Your cat is absolutely unhinged. Respect."

"Yeah," I said, suddenly feeling like the **zombie** trance of summer had finally broken. "She really is."

That night, zombie movies played on a projector while we passed around papaya slices and pet Luna, who purred like she'd just saved the world. Maybe she had.