Dead Battery, Alive

The party was basically a graveyard of social interaction. Every single person in Maya's living room was hunched over, faces illuminated by the ghostly blue glow of their screens. I checked my phone—12% battery. Perfect.

"Dude, you're missing it," Carlos said, not looking up from his iphone. "Sarah just posted the most fire story."

"I'm good," I mumbled, sliding onto the couch next to Sam. She was the only other person in the room who wasn't zombie-scrolling through their feed. Actually, she was reading an actual book. A physical one with pages and everything.

She caught me staring. "What?"

"Nothing. Just... you're like, the only alive person in here."

Sam laughed, and it was this real, unfiltered sound that cut through the lo-fi beats playing in the background. "That's rich coming from someone who's been checking their phone every five seconds since they walked in."

I felt my face burn. "Touche."

"So what's your deal?" She dog-eared her page—I flinched internally; who does that to books? "First party of junior year, and you're already plotting your exit?"

"Maybe. Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who's also pretending." She lowered her voice. "Between us, I only came because Maya promised pizza. That was three hours ago."

I cracked up. "Wait, seriously?"

"Dead serious." Sam's phone buzzed. She didn't even look at it. "See that? That's the difference. I'm in control of my attention, not the other way around."

My phone buzzed too. I resisted the urge to check.

"You know," Sam said, "my therapist says this whole generation is basically an experiment in what happens when you give humans infinite distraction. We're all just walking around half-present."

"Deep," I said, but I was actually thinking about it. "So what's the solution?"

"Friends who call you out." She grinned. "And putting the damn phone away for five minutes."

My screen went black. 0%. I didn't even care.

"Well," I said, "looks like the universe decided for me."

"Tragic," Sam deadpanned. "However will you survive without seeing what everyone's NOT doing tonight?"

I laughed—really laughed. "We could explore the mysterious case of the missing pizza."

"Lead the way, friend."

We found the pizza in the kitchen, cold but still edible. We ate it on the back porch, surrounded by the chaos of a party we were barely part of, talking about everything and nothing. And for the first time all night, I didn't feel like a zombie at all.