Zombie Apocalypse at Chloe's Pool Party

I felt like a **zombie** stumbling into Chloe's backyard, my brain fried from overthinking everything. The jocks were doing cannonballs into the **pool**, sending **water** everywhere while the popular girls clustered on lounge chairs, perfecting their not-caring expressions.

"You're playing, right?" Tyler appeared, dripping wet, grinning like he knew something I didn't.

Before I could answer, someone's golden retriever came barreling through the gate, barking wildly. The **dog** launched itself into the deep end, chaos erupting everywhere. Girls shrieked. Guys laughed. And I watched something glinting in the disturbed water—a tiny orange shape sinking toward the bottom.

A **goldfish**.

Someone's pet, presumably abandoned or escaped from a bowl near the edge of the pool. It wasn't moving.

Without thinking, I dove in. The shock of cool water snapped me into focus. My fingers brushed the ceramic bottom. There. Scooped it up, broke the surface, everyone staring.

"Is that..." Chloe started, actually looking at me for the first time all afternoon.

"It wasn't breathing," I said, cradling the tiny fish in my hands. "But I think... I think I can save it."

Her mom had a fish tank inside. We transferred it there, me dripping on their fancy tiles while Chloe watched, elbows on the counter, hair wet and messy from the dog's splashing.

"That was actually kind of cool," she said, and something in her voice sounded real for once. Not performed. Not practiced.

"Yeah, well," I said, suddenly aware of how close we were standing. "I didn't want it to die alone."

She laughed. "God, you're dramatic."

"I'm honest," I corrected, feeling something shift in my chest.

The party continued outside. But we stayed inside, watching a tiny orange fish swim in circles, neither of us feeling much like social zombies anymore.