Zombie Summer at the Deep End

My **hair** had other plans today. I'd spent forty-five minutes trying to tame it into something resembling social acceptability, but by the time I showed up at Jessica's pool party, humidity had already declared war. Great start to freshman year.

"Yo Maya! Finally made it!" Jessica waved from her pool float, looking effortless in a way that should be illegal. Everyone was already there—the whole friend group that had barely spoken to me since middle school ended.

I grabbed a **papaya** from the fruit bowl. Mom said "bring something" and apparently papaya was peak exotic sophistication. Nobody touched it. The papaya sat there like a lonely orange planet, weird and out of place. Same.

"Okay, who wants to play **zombie** tag?" Tyler shouted, already halfway out of the pool. Water dripped from his perfect curls. How did guys just exist without trying?

The rules were simple: one person's the zombie, everyone else runs, and if you get tagged, you're infected. Last human standing wins. Which meant I'd be out in approximately three seconds.

"You're it!" someone screamed, and suddenly Tyler was **running** straight at me, arms stretched like a proper horror movie zombie. I scrambled backward, dropping my papaya in the process. It rolled dramatically across the patio.

"Maya! MOVE!"

I bolted toward the pool, **swimming** didn't even cross my mind—I just jumped. The water shocked my skin, cool and perfect. When I surfaced, everyone was laughing. Not at me, with me. Tyler stood at the edge, grinning.

"You're a fast zombie," he said.

"Survival instinct," I shot back, treading water.

Jessica tossed me a pool float. "Want a papaya sacrifice? We've got plenty."

For the first time all day, I actually breathed. Maybe hair disasters and awkward fruit choices didn't matter as much as I thought. Maybe showing up was enough.

"Nah," I said, paddling over. "I think I'll just stay here and plot my revenge."