Charging at Midnight

Maya's iPhone 7 screen was practically held together by hope and clear tape. The charging cable only worked if you bent it at exactly forty-five degrees, like some ancient ritual sacrifice to the tech gods.

"You coming to Jake's party?" Chloe asked, already transformed into someone who looked like they belonged in a TikTok filter.

"I guess," Maya said, thumbing the cracked screen. "If my battery survives."

The party was exactly what Maya expected: expensive phones everywhere, newer iPhones than she could count, everyone documenting their lives like they were the main character. She felt like an NPC in someone else's movie.

She ended up on the back porch, nursing an orange soda that was making her fingers sticky. The kitchen had been too much—perfect girls taking perfect photos, perfect guys leaning against countertops like they were posing for a catalog.

"Nice phone," someone said.

Maya turned. It was Jake himself, holding the red solo cup like it was a required prop. He was looking at her iPhone with its spiderweb screen.

"It's vintage," she said deadpan. "Very retro aesthetic."

Jake laughed, and it wasn't mean. "My phone's basically a tracking device at this point. Sometimes I miss when my biggest problem was finding a working cable."

He pulled something from his pocket—an orange peel, folded into some impossible origami shape.

"My grandma taught me," he said. "She said life's like an orange. You gotta break through the tough outside to get to the good stuff. But also, if you peel it wrong, you end up with juice everywhere."

Maya smiled. "That's oddly specific."

"She was oddly specific." He paused. "Anyway, I saw you hiding out here. You want to go inside and pretend we're having the time of our lives? Or we could stay here and make fun of everyone?"

Maya looked at her cracked phone, the orange soda making rings on the porch railing, Jake with his orange peel origami and his honesty.

"Option B," she said. "Definitely option B."

They sat on the porch steps while the party raged inside, making up backstories for everyone who walked past the window. Maya's phone died at midnight, and she didn't even care. Some things were better than fully charged.