Zombie Mode

I was operating on pure zombie mode—three hours of sleep will do that to you. Summer swim camp at Lake Pine wasn't exactly turning out to be the transformative experience my mom promised. More like exhausting, awkward, and way too much time in a bathing suit that I was definitely not confident enough to wear.

The problem: Tyler Chen was here. THE Tyler Chen, who'd barely acknowledged my existence all semester, now swimming laps in the lane next to mine like it was nothing. I became a total spy, stealing glances whenever I surfaced for air, analyzing every interaction like my life depended on it. Does he think I'm fast? Do I look like I'm trying too hard? Is my hair doing that weird thing when it's wet?

"You're overthinking your flip turn," Tyler said, pulling off his goggles. Water dripped down his face in a way that should've been illegal. "You're tense. You gotta flow, not fight."

I almost drowned right there. Tyler Chen was critiquing my swimming technique. This was it. The moment I'd been waiting for all year—and I was a zombie mess with chlorine in my eyes and zero chill.

That night, cabin four's resident prankster Marcus announced we were playing Humans vs. Zombies. I got tagged within five minutes because I was too busy watching Tyler across the clearing. Now I was literally a zombie, shuffling around trying to "infect" people while simultaneously trying to look cool doing it.

Then came the incident with the bear.

Okay, not a real bear. Marcus's giant stuffed bear from home, which he'd rigged to jump out at people from behind the mess hall. I walked straight into it, screamed loud enough to wake every cabin, and landed flat on my back in the mud.

Tyler found me there, sitting up and covered in dirt, laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. He sat down next to me in the mud like it was totally normal.

"That bear got you good," he said, grinning.

"I'm graceful, what can I say."

"You know," he said, "I was watching you swim today. You've got crazy endurance. I was gonna ask if you wanted to do morning laps with me. But I figured you'd think I was weird."

I stared at him. "Wait, YOU were nervous to ask ME?"

"Duh." He laughed. "You're always so focused. Intense. It's kinda cool."

We sat there in the mud until the counselors called us in. I wasn't a zombie anymore, or a spy, or the girl who got traumatized by a stuffed bear. I was just me—and apparently, that was enough.