The Night We Didn't Die

My iphone died at 11:47 PM, right as Tyler's party reached peak chaos. I'd been refreshing it every thirty seconds like a nervous tic, checking if Sarah had texted back. She hadn't.

"You look like a zombie," Maya said, plopping beside me on the basement couch. She held out a bottle of neon-orange gummies. "Vitamin C boost. You need it."

I took one, studying her. Maya wasn't in Sarah's crowd—she was weird, artsy, the kind of girl who wore mismatched socks on purpose. But her eyes were sharp, observant. She saw things.

"My charger cable's frayed," I confessed, surprising myself. "I keep meaning to get a new one, but..." I trailed off. The truth was, I was terrified of missing something. Sarah's texts, notifications, the endless scroll that proved I existed.

Then Tyler's dog—a chocolate Lab named Barnaby who'd been aggressively greeting everyone all night—bounded over and tackled Maya. She dissolved into laughter, wresting with him on the filthy basement carpet while he attempted to enthusiastically lick her face.

"Zombie dog!" someone yelled. The room erupted in laughter.

Maya sat up, hair wild, dog hair coating her black sweater. She looked ridiculous. She looked completely, unapologetically herself.

"Your phone's dead," she said suddenly. "So what are you going to do now?"

Something loosened in my chest. I set my dead phone on the coffee table. I wasn't checking notifications anymore. I wasn't waiting for Sarah to validate my existence.

I grabbed a handful of vitamin gummies. "I'm going to teach Barnaby to howl."

Maya grinned. "Finally. Something that matters."

We howled. Tyler recorded it on his phone. Later, I'd see the video—me, with dog hair on my sweatshirt, head thrown back, making a sound that was more like a dying cat than a wolf. Maya beside me, laughing so hard she fell over. Barnaby barking joyfully at the ceiling.

I never got that text from Sarah. But for the first time in months, I didn't care. The zombie inside me had finally woken up.