Lightning in a Dead Phone

Maya stood against the wall at Jordan's party, watching everyone move in that weird, synchronized way they always did. Heads down. Thumbs scrolling. Blue light reflecting in thirty pairs of eyes. It was like being surrounded by zombies, except zombies were at least trying to eat brains. These people were just letting theirs rot.

Her iPhone buzzed in her hand. Another DM from someone who was literally five feet away.

"u coming??"

Maya typed back, "im here lol" and then deleted it. Then typed it again. Deleted it.

She'd been at this school for three months and somehow her entire social life existed inside a 6-inch screen. Her bio was curated. Her posts were scheduled. Her personality was, like, 40% filters and 60% carefully calculated vibes. She didn't even know what she actually liked anymore.

Outside, thunder cracked so hard the house shook.

The power died.

Everything went dark. Fifty teenagers simultaneously looked up from their phones, their faces illuminated only by the sudden flash of lightning outside the window. For a second, nobody moved. Then:

"OH MY GOD MY PHONE DIED"

"Did anyone else's just—"

"I was at 87%!"

"Bro. BRO."

Maya couldn't help it. She started laughing. Not her performative laugh that she used in Instagram stories—the real one, the ugly one that made her snort.

A girl next to her turned. It was Riley, the one who'd sat behind her in English since September. They'd never spoken outside the classroom.

"You too?" Riley said, gesturing at her dark phone.

"I'm at 23%," Maya said. "Not exactly winning."

"I was literally about to DM you," Riley said. "I've been, like, meaning to ask if you wanted to study for finals together but every time I pulled up your chat I got, like, performance anxiety about it."

Maya stared. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah. You seem cool but also kind of intimidating? Like you have your aesthetic so figured out and I'm still over here trying to—"

Riley cut herself off. Another lightning flash illuminated her embarrassed expression.

"My aesthetic?" Maya said. "Riley, I have zero idea what I'm doing. I literally Google 'what do gen z teens wear' before I buy clothes."

Riley's eyes went wide. "NO WAY."

"Yes way. My Instagram is 90% panic and 10% good lighting."

Riley cracked up. A real laugh. Not the dainty one she used in her TikToks.

"We're such zombies," Maya said. "Like, actual zombies. Just scrolling through other people living their lives while we're—"

"While we're standing at a party that we came to for the pics," Riley finished. "And then the moment the phones die, we're actually, like—"

"Having a conversation?"

"A real one?" Riley grinned. "Without wondering how to phrase it for the algorithm?"

Maya's phone screen stayed black. But for the first time in months, she didn't care.

"Hey," she said. "You wanna get food? There's that taco truck—"

"YES. But, like, can we take pictures of the tacos?"

"Obviously. Some things are worth documenting."

"Bet."

They headed for the door as the storm raged outside, leaving thirty other zombies standing in the dark, still waiting for the lightning that would bring them back to life.