Signal Lost

The summer I turned fifteen, our **cable** went out for three weeks straight. My dad was constantly on the phone with the company, but honestly? I didn't mind. Something about living without Netflix made everything feel more real, more urgent. Like I was actually supposed to be living my life instead of watching other people live theirs.

That August, I found myself **running** through the woods behind our subdivision almost every day. Partly because I'd joined cross country (mostly to impress Maya, who I'd had a crush on since seventh grade), partly because I'd accidentally become kind of a **spy**.

Here's the thing: I'd noticed that Jared—the older guy who lived in the house with the perfect front lawn—was meeting someone in the woods every afternoon at 4:15. Same spot, different people sometimes. I wasn't trying to creep, but my running loop happened to pass right by where they met. I started timing my laps so I'd "accidentally" jog past, staying just distant enough to not be noticed while trying to figure out what was happening. Was it drugs? Was he in some kind of weird cult? The possibilities were endless and honestly, way more interesting than binge-watching anything.

One afternoon, I stepped on a branch. It cracked like a gunshot. Jared's head snapped toward me, and I panicked. I booked it, my cross-country training kicking in as I sprinted deeper into the forest. But I wasn't fast enough.

"Hey! Wait!" He caught up easily, which was humiliating because he was like nineteen and I was supposed to be an athlete.

I braced myself for him to yell at me to stop **running** my mouth. Instead, he pulled out his phone.

"You're Leo, right? Maya's friend?"

"Yeah..."

"You like her?"

My face burned. "Maybe."

"Cool." He shrugged. "I'm Jared. I've been meeting with people from the neighborhood association about this huge bear someone spotted near the creek. We're trying to figure out what to do before it becomes a problem. We're not doing anything sketchy, I swear. You can tell whoever."

"Oh." I felt ridiculous. "I thought—never mind."

He laughed. "You thought I was up to something way more interesting than neighborhood association drama, didn't you?"

"Maybe a little."

"Well." He checked his watch. "Since you're here anyway—Maya mentioned you like papaya? My parents' tree is dropping fruit like crazy. Take some, tell her it's from me. Tell her Jared says hey."

He handed me three perfect papayas, and I walked home with my face burning for an entirely different reason.

Maya loved them. She also thought me being a self-appointed neighborhood spy was hilarious. We spent the rest of the summer talking about everything, and when school started, she held my hand in the hallway between classes.

Sometimes the best signal is the one you lose. The cable came back eventually, but some things are better left offline.