Zombie Padel Summer

Leo dragged himself through fourth period AP Bio feeling like actual **zombie** flesh. Three hours of sleep after doom-scrolling until 3 AM will do that to you. His bestie Sarah noticed first—"Dude, you're straight-up ROTting." She wasn't wrong.

The weekend hit, and Leo's crew hit the community center for **padel**. It was supposed to be chill—just some vibes, maybe impress Maya, the girl he'd been lowkey crushing on since September. But then Jason showed up.

Jason, aka "The **Bull**" for his stubborn mule-energy and tendency to charge into situations without reading the room. Jason with his stupid perfect hair and his Instagram posts that somehow got 200 likes while Leo's maxed out at twelve.

"Sup, zombie," Jason smirked, lobbing a serve that grazed Leo's ear. "Maybe stay on your side of the court, yeah?"

Leo's face burned. Maya was watching. Everything was cringe.

That's when he saw it—a scrawny calico **cat** perched on the fence, watching the game like it understood everything. Their eyes met. Something shifted.

"Bullshit," Leo muttered, surprising everyone. "Least I can hit the court, not just talk trash."

Jason's jaw dropped. Maya grinned. The cat meowed, almost approvingly.

Leo nailed the return. Game point.

Later, sitting on the curb with street tacos, Leo finally felt awake. The zombie haze lifted. Maybe standing up to one bull was all it took to feel alive again.