Three Minutes to Signal

Maya's dad's old fishing hat smelled like campfire and bad decisions, but she pulled it low over her forehead anyway. The camping trip with Jenna and Kyle was supposed to be their perfect pre-summer blowout—before college split them three ways, before everything changed. Instead, they were huddled in a leaky cabin while thunder rattled the windows.

"My iPhone literally has zero bars," Jenna groaned, scrolling through her camera roll for the hundredth time. "I haven't posted in forty-eight hours. People probably think I died."

"Bear with it," Maya said, then immediately winced at her own pun.

Kyle snorted. "That was painful, Maya. Like, actually painful."

"Whatever, you're just hangry. We haven't eaten since those protein bars yesterday."

Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the cabin's dusty interior—Jenna's perfectly coordinated outfit (why had she dressed for a photoshoot in the woods?), Kyle's hoodie that he refused to take off even inside, Maya's stolen hat. They looked like three different people who'd accidentally wound up in the same room. Which, honestly, wasn't far from the truth.

"Remember sixth grade?" Maya said suddenly. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "When we made that pact to stay friends forever?"

Jenna looked up from her phone. "Yeah. We also promised to marry Harry Styles. Some dreams weren't meant to survive puberty."

But Maya was already somewhere else. The truth pressed against her throat: she wasn't just talking about the past. She was talking about the elephant—no, the bear—in the room. The fact that they were drifting apart. That Jenna's Instagram life didn't include them anymore. That Kyle had a secret he wasn't telling anyone.

"Guys," Maya said, "what if this is it? Like, what if we come back from this weekend and everything's different?"

Another lightning strike, closer this time. Thunder cracked directly overhead, and all three of them jumped.

"Everything's already different," Kyle said quietly. He looked between them, something vulnerable in his expression. "I was gonna tell you. I'm moving to Oregon in August. My dad's job transfer."

The room went silent. Not the comfortable silence of old friendship, but the heavy kind, the kind that made Maya's chest tight.

"You were just... not going to tell us?" Jenna's voice was small.

"I didn't know how." Kyle ran a hand through his hair. "You guys are my best friends. I didn't want to make this weird before it had to be."

Maya's phone buzzed once in her pocket. A miracle signal bar had appeared. Then a second. Then three.

"Guys," she said, pulling out her iPhone. "We have service."

Jenna grabbed her phone like a lifeline. "Oh my god, finally—I need to tell Emma about—" She stopped. "About what? About how we sat in a cabin for two days complaining?" She lowered her phone. "Actually, no. Emma can wait."

"Yeah," Maya said, surprised by how much she meant it. "Emma can wait."

They sat there as the storm finally broke, rain pattering against the roof, three bars of service glowing in the darkness like a quiet reminder that the world was still out there. But for now, in this dusty cabin with Maya's dad's hat and the fading storm, this was enough.