Zombies Don't Swim

Maya stood at the edge of the pool party feeling like a literal zombie. Three weeks of summer had turned her brain to mush from binge-watching apocalyptic shows until 3 AM, and now she was expected to function like a normal human being in a swimsuit.

Around her, the popular kids splashed and screamed like they'd invented fun. Jordan — the one with the annoyingly perfect hair and smile that made Maya's stomach do backflips — was currently doing a cannonball contest. Of course he was winning.

"Yo Maya, you gonna stand there all day or actually get in?" Jordan called, shaking water from his hair like some kind of golden retriever.

Her brain short-circuited. "I'm... good. From here. Watching. Like a zombie would."

Someone giggled. Maya wanted to dissolve into the concrete.

Then came the rumble. Thunder, distant but approaching. Summer storms in the Midwest hit fast and violent, like the sky suddenly remembered it was supposed to be angry.

"Everyone out!" Mrs. Henderson yelled from her patio chair. "Lightning's coming!"

The pool cleared in seconds. Everyone scrambled toward the house, towels andflip-flops abandoned in chaos. But Maya noticed something small and terrified under the Hendersons' deck chair.

A cat. A tiny, soaked black kitten, pressed against the lattice, shaking.

Maya dropped to her knees, not caring about her towel or what Jordan would think. The cat hissed, then seemed to realize Maya was offering help. She scooped it up, dripping wet and purring against her chest.

"Nice save," Jordan said, appearing beside her. He was holding his phone, flashlight on. "That's midnight. She got out three days ago."

"You named a cat midnight?"

"I was seven. Cut me some slack."

The first lightning strike flashed purple across the sky. The downpour started instantly.

They ran for the porch together, Maya clutching the cat, Jordan somehow managing to open the door while laughing at something Maya said — she couldn't even remember what, but suddenly they were both soaked and breathless in the Hendersons' kitchen, and Jordan was looking at her like she was something else entirely.

"You're actually pretty cool," he said. "For a zombie."

Maya grinned. "Zombies don't swim. We just save cats."

"Fair point." He handed her a towel. "Tomorrow? Same pool, less apocalypse?"

"Maybe," Maya said, feeling something bloom in her chest that had nothing to do with fear. "But I'm still not doing a cannonball."