Signal Lost

I'm literally a zombie. Three hours of sleep + coffee + anxiety = me sitting in the back of Mr. Henderson's bus, watching the "pyramid" of our school's social hierarchy play out in front of us. Emma's crew in seats 4-6, laughing at something I'll never understand. Jason's sports bros in the back, being loud like always.

"You good?" asks Kai, sliding into the seat next to me. Kai, who floats between friend groups like he's got a VIP pass everywhere.

"Yeah," I lie, clutching my iphone like it's my only oxygen tank. 8%. Which should be fine, except we're going on this "digital detox" camping trip and I'm not ready to be alone with my thoughts yet.

The ride is two hours of forests getting thicker, service bars dropping one by one. By the time we pull up to the campsite, I'm at 2% and spiraling. Everyone's grabbing backpacks, laughing, excited. I'm mentally calculating how long I can stare at a black screen before looking crazy.

"Forgot my cable," someone groans. Of course they did.

We set up tents. I end up with Kai and two sophomore girls I barely know. Night falls, and Mr. Henderson does his whole "leave your phones in the box" speech. I watch mine slide into the container like it's being lowered into a grave.

Then: screams.

We all rush outside—there's a bear. Actual bear. It's rummaging through the cooler someone left out like a total idiot. Emma's crying, Jason's yelling, Mr. Henderson's trying to look authoritative while shaking. And in the chaos, Kai grabs my hand.

We hide behind this massive pine tree, breathing hard, and he whispers, "This is actually kind of sick?"

And I start laughing. Because it IS. Because I've been so terrified of being disconnected, of being present, that I forgot what it's like to just experience something real.

The bear runs off with a bag of marshmallows. Everyone's okay. We sit around the fire afterward, roasting the remaining ones, and I'm not checking my phone, not wondering what I'm missing. I'm watching Kai make shadow puppets, listening to Emma tell a story about her dad's camping disasters, feeling part of something that isn't filtered through a screen.

"Tomorrow," Kai whispers, "we're hiking to this old fire tower. You should come with."

"Yeah," I say, and I actually mean it. "Yeah."