Signal Lost

Maya felt like a **zombie**. Three weeks of finals, AP exams, and track regionals would do that to anyone. Her brain was mush, her legs were lead, and she was surviving on caffeine and sheer willpower.

"You **running** today?" Jake asked at lunch, sliding into the cafeteria booth across from her.

"Can't. Coach says rest before state meet." She poked at her mystery meat. "Besides, my dad's cutting the **cable** tonight. Says I'm too distracted."

Jake choked on his chocolate milk. "Your cable? Like, internet?"

"Everything. TV, WiFi, the whole deal. He's going full 'digital detox' on me." Maya sighed. "It's fine. I need to focus anyway."

But that night, at 11:47 PM, her phone buzzed. Jake.

*Emergency. Pool gate is open. Meet me there. 5 mins.*

Maya stared at her ceiling. Her dad had already disconnected the router. The house felt wrong without its usual blue Netflix glow, without the faint hum of servers and the possibility of escape.

She grabbed her swimsuit from the laundry basket and slipped out the window.

The night air smelled like cut grass and heat. Jake was already by the pool when she arrived, phone flashlight dimmed, gym bag at his feet.

"Thought you couldn't come," he whispered.

"Shh. My dad will kill me."

"This is better than cable," Jake said, already pulling off his sneakers. "I found it open when I was **swimming** laps earlier. The gate, I mean. No one's closing it until morning."

They jumped in - clothes, shoes, everything. The water was shocking and perfect. Maya felt something loosen in her chest, something that had been tight since April.

They floated on their backs, staring at the few visible stars between the clouds.

"You gonna win state?" Jake asked after a while.

"I hope so. I've been **running** myself into the ground for it."

"You're not a zombie, you know," he said softly. "You're just growing up. It sucks for everyone."

Maya laughed. Water filled her mouth. She spit it out. "Thanks, Jake. That's literally the least helpful thing you could say."

"I mean it though. Like, nobody talks about how much growing up feels like dying. But we're not dead. We're just... becoming."

The pool lights flickered on - motion sensors. They scrambled out, grabbing their stuff, running through the damp night air back toward their houses, hearts pounding, alive in a way they hadn't been in weeks.

Maya's room was dark when she climbed back through the window. The cable box was gone, the router disconnected. But her phone had one bar of service from the neighbor's WiFi.

*Tomorrow,* Jake texted. *Pool. Same time.*

Maya smiled in the dark. Some signals, you couldn't cut.