Zombies Don't Swim

Maya stood at the edge of the **pool**, clutching her phone like a lifeline. The screen flashed 3%—no surprise, since she'd forgotten her charging **cable** at home. Typical.

The graduation party raged around her. Kids she'd known forever, some she'd never actually spoken to, splashed in the **water**. Someone had pushed Taylor in, fully clothed. Everyone laughed. Maya forced a smile that felt painted on.

She felt like a **zombie**—honestly, that was the only word for it. AP exams had drained her soul. Two weeks of sleeping until noon, scrolling TikTok until her eyes burned, existing in that weird limbo between high school and whatever came next. Her friends were all "living their best summer" while she was... what? Recovering?

Then Chase flopped onto the lounge chair beside her, dripping wet. His shirt was practically see-through—not that she was looking. Okay, maybe a little.

"Thought you'd be in there," he said, nodding at the chaos.

Maya shrugged. "Not really feeling it."

"Same." He leaned back. "I've been walking around like a zombie all week. Finals fried my brain."

She almost laughed. "You too?"

"Hardcore." He turned to her, water still dripping from his hair. "Everyone's acting like we're supposed to be having this epic summer, but I'm just tired. Is that weird?"

"No," she said, and it came out more honest than she'd intended. "It's like... we're supposed to perform happiness, right? For Instagram, for each other. But sometimes you're just tired."

Chase smiled—a real one, not the perform kind. "Exactly."

Her phone died. The screen went black, and something in her chest loosened.

"Wanna go get food?" he asked. "I'm starving."

Maya realized she was too. For the first time in weeks, she didn't feel like a zombie at all. She felt present. She felt alive.

"Yeah," she said, standing up. "Let's."