Zombie Goldfish Summer

The pool party at Jenna's house was supposed to be chill, but my anxiety was doing backflips. Everyone worth knowing was there, including Tyler, who I'd been lowkey crushing on since freshman year. I spotted him near the padel court, shirtless, sweat glistening on his brown skin like he'd walked straight out of a music video.

"Yo Maya!" Jenna waved me over, her hair already wet from pool-water dips. "You have to see this."

She led me to the outdoor table where a tiny plastic bowl sat. Inside swam the most depressing goldfish I'd ever seen — barely moving, floating like it was contemplating its entire existence.

"It's literally a zombie goldfish," Jenna laughed, feeding it a flake. "Won it at the carnival earlier. Keeps playing dead, then randomly zooms around like it remembered it's alive."

"That's the most accurate metaphor for my entire existence," I said, and she cackled.

Suddenly, Tyler's voice carried across the yard. "Yo, did y'all hear about the bear?"

Everyone froze. A bear? In our suburban bubble?

"My neighbor said it got into their trash last night," Tyler continued, stretching his arms overhead. "Black bear, probably just passing through. But still wild, right?"

Something about the way he said it — excited but not scared — made my chest feel tight. I wanted to talk to him, but also wanted to dissolve into the pool water and never come up for air.

The night shifted. Someone suggested a zombie movie marathon, and suddenly we were all squeezed onto Jenna's giant sectional, blankets pooled around us, the goldfish bowl flickering in the TV light. Tyler ended up beside me, his arm barely touching mine, sending electricity through my veins.

"This zombie's got nothing on your fish," he whispered during a quiet part.

I laughed. "Right? At least it's not eating brains."

"Yet," he grinned, and in that moment, something clicked. Not a big dramatic moment, but a tiny, perfect shift — like finding the last puzzle piece under the couch.

Later, walking home under streetlights, I realized: maybe I wasn't a zombie after all. Maybe I was just waking up.