The Night We Unplugged

The backyard was buzzing—about fifty people from Miller's high school scattered across the lawn, red Solo cups glowing under string lights. Jordan pressed against the back fence, heart pounding, phone screen illuminating their face in the blue light of yet another scroll session. Total zombie mode. Four hours of sleep, three Red Bulls, and still here because Maya said they had to "experience senior year." Whatever that meant.

"Jordan!" Maya waved from near the bonfire, grinning with that effortless energy Jordan could never quite pull off. "Get over here!"

Jordan shoved their phone deep into their hoodie pocket and stumbled forward, the grass dew soaking their vintage Vans. Their brain felt like static, like old TV without the cable plugged in—just snow and fuzz and nowhere to land. How did everyone do this? The laughing, the flirting, the performing like they weren't all terrified messes underneath.

"You remember Tyler, right?" Maya gestured to a tall guy in a flannel who was definitely checking his phone when he thought no one was looking.

"Yeah, hey." Jordan managed, voice barely carrying over the music thumping from somewhere inside.

"Cool party." Tyler nodded, already scanning for someone more interesting to talk to. Classic.

Then it happened. Some sophomore guy started bragging about his "sick connect" who could get them all fake IDs, going on about how he'd already scored VIP tables at clubs downtown. The words flowed fast and smooth, too smooth, and Jordan caught Maya's eye across the circle. That tiny eyebrow raise. The shared signal.

"That's straight-up bull." The words spilled out before Jordan could second-guess them. "Sophomore year, my brother tried that same guy. Lost two hundred bucks and got ghosted."

The circle went quiet. The bragging guy's face flushed.

"Wait, really?" Someone else asked.

"For real. That guy's a total scammer." Jordan's voice steadied. "Like, I'm not trying to be a jerk, but don't waste your money."

The tension broke as everyone started laughing—relief mixed with conspiracy, like they'd all been thinking it but nobody wanted to say it first. Maya caught Jordan's eye again, grinning for real this time.

Later, sprawled across the hood of Jordan's car watching the stars, phone finally dead and tucked away in the glove box, Jordan realized something: they didn't need the cable. The connection. The constant feed of other people's lives. They could just be here, zombie-brain and all, and somehow that was enough.

"You were pretty badass back there," Maya said, bumping Jordan's shoulder.

Jordan smiled up at the sky. "Yeah? Maybe there's hope for me yet."