Zombie Goldfish Summer

Maya felt like a zombie as she trudged toward the pool gate, her flip-flops slapping against the pavement. Three hours of sleep. That's what happened when you spent the entire night overanalyzing a text message from the cutest guy in sophomore year.

"You made it!" Chloe screamed, already cannonballing into the water. "Get in here!"

Maya stood frozen at the edge of everything—of the pool, of being someone who actually went to parties, of the possibility that Alex might look at her twice. She clutched her towel like a lifeline.

Someone pressed a handful of cheddar goldfish into her palm. "You look like you need these," Alex said, appearing beside her. His hair was wet from swimming, droplets running down his neck. Maya's stomach did that thing where it forgot how to be an organ.

"Thanks," she managed, not trusting her voice to say more. The goldfish fish smiled up at her mockingly.

"I hate swimming too," he admitted, dropping his voice. "I only came because Chloe threatened to tell everyone I still sleep with a stuffed animal."

Maya laughed, surprised. "You? Mr. Varsity Soccer?"

"Appearances can be deceiving." He gestured toward his friends, who were doing their best zombie impressions, arms outstretched, groaning dramatically. "They're all dead inside anyway. High school'll do that to you."

The first crack of lightning split the sky purple, seconds before thunder shook the ground. Everyone screamed and scrambled toward the house, leaving Maya and Alex alone under the suddenly ominous sky.

"Race you?" he challenged, eyes bright with something that made her heart hammer harder than the storm.

"What?"

"To the porch. Before we get soaked." He grinned, and in that lightning-illuminated moment, Maya realized she wasn't a zombie anymore. She was awake, alive, and maybe—just maybe—ready to dive in.