Signal Lost

The cable guy keeps looking at me, and I'm trying not to look back.

"This might take a while," he says, fiddling with the tangled mess behind the TV.

My heart sinks. The WiFi is already dead, and now the cable's out too? This was supposed to be the perfect summer night—movie marathon with snacks, and Maya actually coming over. Instead, I'm stuck in the living room with some random technician while my parents are at work, everything's going wrong, and—

"Got it!" The cable guy stands up, wiping grease on his pants. "You're all set."

He leaves, and I check my phone. Still no internet. Great.

Maya's going to be here in twenty minutes. I look around the living room—my younger sister's dollhouse is scattered everywhere, there are dishes in the sink from breakfast, and I haven't even showered yet. I grab my favorite hat from the hook by the door—the black baseball cap that I wear when I need to feel like I've got it together. It doesn't match my outfit, but whatever. I shove the dollhouse pieces under the couch with my foot. Close enough.

When the doorbell rings, my stomach does that thing where it feels like it's going to fall out.

Maya's standing there in her yellow sundress, looking perfect as always. She smiles, and I feel like I can't breathe.

"Hey!" she says. "What's the emergency?"

"Emergency?" I ask, confused.

She laughs. "Your text said 'COME OVER ASAP EMERGENCY' with like five exclamation points."

Oh. Oh no.

I sent that? When? I must have typed it without thinking earlier when I was stressing about everything being perfect.

"No emergency," I say quickly. "Just wanted to hang out."

But then I remember—the cable. The WiFi. Everything's dead.

"Actually..." I start. "There is kind of an emergency."

I explain the situation: no WiFi, no cable, my phone's about to die, and the tech guy said it might take hours to fix everything.

Maya looks at the TV, then at me, then bursts out laughing.

"So you had me rush over here because... you're technologically cut off from the world?"

"It sounds dumb when you say it out loud."

"No," she says, stepping closer. "It's kind of perfect."

My heart does that flippy thing again.

"Perfect?"

"Yeah. No distractions. Just us." She walks to the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard. "Your pool still working?"

"Yeah, why—"

"Grab towels. I'm not letting a lack of WiFi ruin our summer night."

So that's how we end up in the pool at 2 AM, floating on our backs and looking up at the stars. The water's warm, and everything's quiet except for the distant sound of crickets and our splashes. My phone's inside, dead. The cable's still out. And I'm here with Maya, who's laughing at something I said, and I realize she's not perfect at all—she's just real.

"You know," she says, splashing water at me, "I've never seen you without that hat before."

I realize my hat's on the patio, abandoned hours ago when I jumped into the pool. My hair's messy, my clothes are soaked, and I've never felt more myself.

"You know," I say back, splashing her, "I think I like it this way too."

She smiles, and in that moment, everything is perfect. Not perfect like I planned, but better. Real. A signal lost, but something better found.