Zombie Summer Goldfish

I was basically a zombie all summer—pale from staying inside, eyes glazed from endless zombie movie marathons, moving through life like the undead. My social battery was at zero permanently.

Then Evie invited me to her pool party. Evie, whose Instagram stories looked like a magazine spread. Evie, who I'd had a crush on since seventh grade.

The problem wasn't the party. The problem was Bull—that's what everyone called Marcus Bennett, since he was built like a linebacker and had about as much subtlety as a sledgehammer. Bull lived to torment me, and I knew he'd be at Evie's.

"You're going," my sister Maya announced, dangling her plastic bag in my face. Inside it swam her new orange goldfish, which she'd cleverly named Goldie Hawn. "You can't spend another weekend watching people fight zombies on TV."

"Watch me."

"Dad says you're going. And you're taking Goldie Hawn."

"Why?"

"Because her water needs changing and you're going anyway."

So that's how I ended up at Evie's house, clutching a plastic bag with a fish that was probably as terrified as I was. The pool glittered blue in the backyard, surrounded by cool kids in swimsuits that cost more than my entire wardrobe. I stood there in my black swim trunks, feeling like I'd crashed a different dimension.

"Well, well, well." Bull materialized behind me, dripping wet. "What's in the bag, nerd? Your lunch?"

"It's a fish."

Bull laughed. "You brought a goldfish to a pool party? What are you gonna do, race it?"

Everyone was looking now. I felt my face burning hotter than the sun overhead. Then Evie swam over, pulling herself out of the pool in this orange bikini that made my brain short-circuit.

"Is that a goldfish?" she asked, genuinely interested. "That's adorable. What's its name?"

"Goldie Hawn," I muttered, and Evie actually laughed.

"I love that." She looked at Bull. "Marcus, you should be nicer. He brought a pet. That's thoughtful."

Something in Bull's face shifted. The mocking irritation gave way to something like respect. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."

By the end of the party, Evie and I were sitting on the pool edge, legs dangling in the water, while Goldie Hawn swam in her bag nearby. We talked about zombie movies and how her parents made her join the swim team even though she hated it.

"You're not like other guys," she said. "You're interesting."

I wasn't a zombie anymore. I was just a guy who'd brought a fish to a pool party and somehow survived.

"Hey," she said, "maybe Goldie Hawn can hang out in my room's aquarium. You could come visit her."

"I'd like that," I said.

And for the first time all summer, I actually felt alive.