Lake Night Bad Signal

The cabin wifi was dead. Again.

"Dude, are you serious?" Jordan groaned, holding his phone toward the ceiling like it was some kind of antenna ritual. "I promised Kai I'd FaceTime at nine."

I flopped onto the musty couch and grabbed the remote. "Maybe try the cable? Sometimes the wifi dies but the ethernet still works."

Jordan scrambled under the TV stand, emerging with a tangled mess of cords. "You're a genius. A gross genius, but a genius."

"Watch it," I said, tossing a pillow at him.

Our friend group had rented this cabin for spring break—six of us, escaping the social pressure of school for a week. No parents, no expectations, just us and a frozen lake that was probably going to kill someone if they tried to walk on it.

"Who's hungry?" Riley called from the kitchen. "Because I found chips, and I'm pretty sure this expired soda is still safe."

"Always," I said.

We ended up on the back porch, wrapped in blankets and watching steam rise from our breath. The moon reflected off the water like someone had spilled silver paint across the surface. It was the kind of beautiful that made you feel things you didn't want to feel.

"So," Riley said, crunching on a chip. "You gonna tell us what's going on with you and Sasha, or do we have to drag it out of you?"

My face went hot. "Nothing's going on. We're just... talking."

"Talking," Jordan repeated, making air quotes. "Right. That's why you were smiling at your phone like a total fox for like twenty minutes straight earlier."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying," Jordan shrugged. "You've got that bear energy lately. All pensive and brooding. It's weird."

"Bear energy?" Riley scoffed. "That's not even a thing."

"It's definitely a thing."

I tuned them out, staring at the frozen lake. My chest felt tight—like someone was sitting on it. Sasha and I had been talking for weeks. She was smart, funny, didn't care what anyone thought. Everything I wished I could be.

"You should just tell her," Riley said softly.

"Tell her what?"

"Whatever you're thinking when you get that look on your face."

I swallowed hard. "What if she doesn't—what if it's weird?"

"Then it's weird," Jordan said. "Weirder things have happened. Remember when you tried to dye your hair blue and it came out green?"

"Dude. We said we'd never speak of that again."

"My point is," Riley said, "you survived that. You'll survive whatever happens with Sasha."

The wind picked up, whistling through the trees. I looked at my friends—Jordan, still tangled in cables, Riley with chip dust on their chin, the moonlight painting everything in blues and silvers.

"Yeah," I said. "I guess."

But inside, something shifted. The tightness in my chest loosened, just a little. Some things were terrifying. But some things were worth it.

"Now," Jordan said, "anyone want to help me fix this router before I lose my mind?"

"Pass," I said. "Some things are beyond saving."

"Harsh."

"True, though," Riley added.

And in that moment, with cold air and terrible wifi and friends who knew me too well, I realized that was okay. The terrifying parts, the messy parts, the parts that didn't fit into some neat little box—they were the parts that actually mattered.

I pulled out my phone and started typing.

"You're doing it, aren't you?" Jordan asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I am."