Screen Deep

Maya's thumbs moved across the screen like they were programmed to do it. Swipe right, scroll, double tap. Her iPhone was basically another limb at this point, glowing with the notifications that ruled her life.

Pool parties at the Hendersons' house were legendary, but Maya felt like she was underwater before she even got there. She didn't know how to be without her phone, without the constant stream of DMs, without checking how many likes her last post got.

"Yo Maya, finally made it!" Marcus called from the edge of the pool, his shirt already off. Marcus, who'd sat next to her in bio since freshman year. Marcus, who she'd been trying to work up the nerve to actually talk to for months.

She forced a smile, clutching her phone like a lifeline. "Hey!"

Someone bumped her elbow — hard.

Time slowed down. Her phone slipped from her fingers, catching the sunlight like a falling star, and then — splash — it hit the water, sinking instantly toward the deep end.

Maya stood frozen. Her whole life was on that thing. Her photos, her conversations, her carefully curated existence. And now it was at the bottom of a pool.

"I'll get it," Marcus said, already diving in.

He surfaced seconds later, phone in hand, water dripping everywhere. "It's toast, but I got it."

Maya stared at her waterlogged phone, then at Marcus, who looked genuinely concerned. Something in her chest loosened. Without her phone, she couldn't overthink every word. She couldn't retreat into her screen when things got awkward. She was just... there.

"Thanks," she said, and meant it. "I mean, my life is over, but thanks anyway."

Marcus laughed. "Drama queen. You can survive a few hours without Instagram, I promise."

"Can I though?" She stepped closer to the pool's edge. "Maybe I need someone to keep me company while I mourn."

"I think I can manage that." His smile was real, not filtered.

Later, when Maya finally got home and her dad blow-dried her miraculously still-working phone, she saw the notification: Marcus Henderson started following you.

Some accidents aren't accidents at all.