Offline at the Pool Party

Maya hovered at the edge of the pool, clutching her iPhone like a lifeline. The screen reflected her carefully curated existence—thirty-seven notifications, a streak she couldn't break, three people waiting for replies. She'd spent forty-five minutes editing the photo she'd posted ten minutes ago.

"You coming in or what?" Jordan called from the water, hair plastered to his forehead. He was the kind of cute that made her forget how to speak in complete sentences.

"Maybe later," she said, though she wouldn't. Not with her hair straightened within an inch of its life.

Then the first jagged spear of lightning cracked the sky, and everyone screamed.

A moment later, the power cut out. The outdoor speakers died mid-song. The wifi router's blinking lights went dark. Someone gasped—something about the cable connection being fried, which meant no internet, no streaming, no nothing.

Dead silence.

Then: "My phone's not working!"

"Mine neither!"

"There's literally no service!"

Maya looked at her screen. No wifi. No data. Just the time and her own reflection staring back. Thirty-seven notifications she couldn't check. Three people she couldn't reply to. A streak that was definitely going to die.

Panic, weirdly sharp in her chest.

Then something else happened. People started talking. Actually talking. Like, with voices and facial expressions and everything.

Jordan pulled himself out of the pool, dripping wet, and dropped beside her on the lounge chair. "So, Maya from English, what's your deal?"

She almost said "My deal?" but instead she heard herself say, "I'm terrified that without my phone, I'm boring."

He laughed, not meanly. "Same. But like, I'm pretty sure you're not boring. I've seen you doodle monsters in the margins of your notes. That's not boring behavior."

They talked for an hour. About monster doodles and anxiety and how Jordan secretly loved horror movies but was too scared to watch them alone. About how exhausting it was, performing for an audience that wasn't even there.

The rain started falling, warm and sudden, and everyone ran screaming toward the covered patio. But Maya stayed put, Jordan beside her, both of them soaked through, phones completely useless, and she realized she hadn't thought about her streak in forty-seven minutes.

"Hey," Jordan said. "When the power comes back, can I get your number? Like, for real this time?"

Maya smiled, feeling something light and terrifyingly hopeful in her chest. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, you can."

The lightning flashed again, but this time she didn't even look at her phone.