Zombie Makeup at the Pool

I felt like a **zombie** walking into first period Monday morning—three hours of sleep will do that to you. But this time, the zombie thing was kinda literal. I'd spent my entire weekend perfecting FX makeup for the local haunted house gig, and now I had foundation smeared behind my ears that no amount of scrubbing would remove.

"You look dead," Maya whispered, sliding into the seat beside me. "Dead good." She nodded at my phone, where I'd posted a pic of my half-rotted face transformation. "This is gonna change everything at Jordan's party."

Jordan's **water** balloon fight of the century was Saturday, and half the sophomore class was going. Maya had been planning my social rehabilitation for weeks—ever since I'd transferred schools and immediately became known as "that quiet girl who draws creepy stuff."

"I'm not doing makeup at a pool party," I muttered, but Maya's eyes already had that look.

"You won't need to. Just show them who you ARE." She flipped her hair—ever since she'd started dating that senior, she'd been acting like some kind of **fox**, all calculated confidence and effortless drama. "People think you're weird. Show them you're weird on PURPOSE."

The party was chaos. Kids everywhere, soaked clothes, water flying. I stayed on the sidelines until Jordan's **dog**—this yappy pug that hated everyone—started barking at my feet. I knelt down, made a goofy monster face at it, and suddenly I wasn't the quiet girl anymore. I was the girl who could make animals do things.

Someone tossed a water balloon. I caught it, gave my best zombie growl, and chased Jordan around the pool. Everyone was laughing. Maya gave me this tiny nod from across the yard, like she'd known it would happen all along.

"You're actually cool," Jordan said later, handing me a towel. "We thought you were just, like... socially dead or something."

"Nah," I said, wringing out my shirt. "Just been busy."

Later, Maya found me sitting on the back porch, watching people leave. She sat beside me, both of us exhausted and happy.

"See?" she bumped my shoulder. "Being yourself is way better than pretending to be a normie **friend** group clone."

"Yeah," I smiled, feeling strangely alive for someone running on zero sleep. "But next time, we're doing scary movie marathon. My zombie makeup deserves better lighting."

"Deal." She paused. "But you're still doing my face for Halloween. I wanna be a fox-werewolf hybrid."

"Only if you promise not to bark at strangers."