Fake Sunshine

The party was already dead when Maya got there. She could tell from the way the bass didn't even rattle the windows, just this pathetic thud-thud like a heartbeat giving up. She clutched her phone to her chest—her dad's old iPhone 8, the one with the cracked screen that everyone at school pretended not to notice. Not that anyone was noticing Maya anyway.

"Hey!" Chloe appeared, half-empty Solo cup in hand. "You came!"

Maya forced herself to smile. "Wouldn't miss it."

Inside, the living wall smelled like expensive perfume and something else, something manufactured sweet. A goldendoodle puppy weaved through legs, pink tongue lolling, everyone grabbing at it like it was celebrity. Someone had dressed it in a tiny leather jacket. The dog looked profoundly done with everyone's nonsense.

Maya squeezed into the kitchen where a group sat in a circle around a single orange gummy bottle. Not candy. The label said VITAMIN D3 5000 IU in aggressive sans-serif.

"It's basically sunshine in a pill," this guy Jake was saying, all confident hands and leaning posture. "My mom's friend works at a wellness place. Says everyone's deficient, that's why everyone's sad all the time."

Someone giggled. "Bet it's just a placebo."

"Dude, want some?" Jake offered Maya the bottle.

She looked at his eager face. Looked at the circle of kids nodding like this made sense. Outside, the actual dog barked at something only it could hear. In the distance, real stars burned above them all.

Maya thought about her dad's cracked iPhone in her pocket, how she'd saved for months to buy her own but then her mom lost her job and the money went to groceries instead. How she'd pretended to break her phone just so she wouldn't have to explain.

"Actually," Maya said, "my dog needs to be let out. Family emergency."

"You brought your dog?" someone asked.

"Emotional support," she said, and didn't wait for their reaction.

Walking home under streetlights, Maya pulled out the phone, opened her camera, and took a photo of the moon. It came out grainy and washed out, barely anything. She kept it anyway.

Some things you couldn't fake. Some things you didn't have to. The real stuff was always messier, always harder, always worth more than any pill could promise.

Her phone buzzed. Her dad: hope ur having fun sweetie. We're proud of u.

Maya smiled at the screen. She was. She really was.