Signal Lost, Bear Found

The ethernet cable lay severed on the floor, a victim of my disastrous attempt to be graceful.

"You've got to be kidding me," I groaned, staring at the betrayed plastic like it had personally offended me.

First weekend at Dad's new cabin, and I'd already managed to destroy the only lifeline to civilization. No WiFi meant no streaming our show with Leo, no scrolling through feeds to see what I was missing, no escape into the digital void I'd been living in since Maya stopped talking to me three weeks ago.

Maya, who'd been my best friend since seventh grade. Maya, who'd decided overnight that my obsession with photography was "cringe" and that I needed to "chill." Whatever that meant.

I grabbed the cable remnants and stomped onto the porch, phone uselessly clutched in my hand like a security blanket. The forest was quiet except for the distant rush of the river—until it wasn't.

Something crashed through the bushes.

My heart seized. A bear. A literal black bear, not twenty feet away, snuffling at the bird feeder like it was a buffet.

I froze. I'd read about what to do in bear encounters, but my brain had gone completely blank. Stand tall? Play dead? Offer it my leftovers from dinner?

The bear's head snapped up. Our eyes locked.

And then—my phone buzzed in my hand. Leo was calling.

The bear's ears perked at the vibration. It chuffed once, almost judgmentally, then lumbered back into the woods like my very awkward social interactions were too much to handle.

I sagged against the porch railing, legs shaking, and answered Leo's call. "Dude, you would not BELIEVE what just happened."

"Was it a bear?" Leo asked calmly. "My cousin said they're everywhere up there."

"How did you—"

"Instagram story posted five minutes ago. Someone else saw it near the river."

I stared at the one bar of signal I'd somehow caught. The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor.

"So," Leo said, "you coming back to reality yet? Maya's been asking about you."

I watched the spot where the bear had disappeared. Sometimes the scariest things weren't nearly as terrifying as we built them up to be. And sometimes, the people we thought were done with us were just waiting for us to look up from our screens.

"Tell her to call me," I said. "If the reception holds."