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We’re officially out the door before ten. Zora digs for her keys and double-beeps the car doors open—and Mark makes a sudden,

sharp dive for the front passenger side. An act of warfare, quite frankly. “Seriously? You’re going to be asleep in five minutes.”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “I snooze, you lose.”

I glower my way into the back seat behind him, and then I spend a whole minute rooting through my bag for my phone. Which—lo

and behold—is still deader than dead. A new milestone for everyday dumbassery, I fear.

But Zora passes back a USB phone charger, and my bad mood clears in an instant. “Hero.”

“I got you.” She taps into her GPS app. “Okay! Just about an hour and a half. Not so bad.”

I plug my phone in, jamming down the power button until it buzzes back to life. “Sixteen unread texts!” I hold my phone up

to show Natalie. “You know what this means.”

“I do not,” she says.

“Ladies and Mark, Jews and Zora: the time is upon us. I humbly present”—I clear my throat—“a dramatic reading—nay— recitation of my latest work. I call it A Resurrection: The Collected Texts from When My Phone Died. ”

“Stay in the left lane to get on the highway.”

“Yes! Okay! Let’s give it up for my opening act... Zora’s GPS!” I clap, balancing my phone on my leg. Natalie looks slightly alarmed.

“So, we begin! Starting with the group chat, where we have”—I tap the thread open—“eight new notifications. First up—let’s

see—one from Zora Bo-bora Winston at 6:14 a.m. Going for a beach walk! Cereal and granola bars in the pantry if you’re hungry , followed by a yellow heart emoji.” I look up at Zora. “Interesting! Yes. Love the yellow—”

“We’re absolutely not doing sixteen of these,” Nat says.

“I’ll go fast. Another one from Zora, 6:18 a.m. Wait, pause on the cereal—Aunt Jojo wants to make us breakfast. Ooh, okay. One from Natty Lite, 7:34 a.m. good morning, sunshines ! mark, did you get flushed down the toiled? Okay, Nat again. toilet .” I look up. “This is beautiful.”

Natalie lets out a long-suffering exhale.

I keep scrolling. “Okay, we’ve got Marky Mark at 7:41 a.m. responding to the toilet allegations. Claims to be showering.”

“I was showering,” Mark says.

“Incredible. Most hygienic boy,” I say. “A credit to your kind.”

“Are we done here?”

“No way. Okay, so Zora loves the toilet versus shower discourse, per her emoji reactions. And that’s it for the group chat.

All right! Next up, we’ve got Last chance to get 25% off —okay, delete. Oop. Deleting all the spam. One from Mom. Sweetie, please text me when u get to Blackwell. Why am I reading these out loud?”

“That’s a very good question,” Nat says.

“Okay, okay—last, but not least, we have Audrey coming in strong with an iPad photo of a Polaroid. Appears to be stuffed animals posed in front of a white bedsheet. A bold message. Blurry, yet thought-provoking.”

I tap out of my messages and into Instagram, where I’ve somehow amassed a whole pile of notifications. All of which turn out

to be comments on Kylie Elfman’s newly posted prom photos.

All except two.

“Oh my God.” I press a hand to my lips.

Natalie looks at me. “You okay?”

I stare at my phone screen, half-expecting it to vanish the moment I blink. But it doesn’t. The notification’s still there—bright

blue check mark and all.

“He wrote back.” My voice comes out hushed.

“Who wrote back?” Zora asks.

“Walter! He replied to my comment. And he hearted it! Hold on, let me—” I tap over to my post, opening the comments. “Okay, so I said see you tomorrow! —this was yesterday. And he said... Can’t wait!! With two exclamation points. I’m—” I turn to Natalie, wide-eyed. “He can’t wait!”

“Well, that’s basically a marriage proposal,” she says.

“Right?” I laugh and then exhale. “Oh my God. We’re about to meet Walter. Today!” I cover my face with both hands. “I can’t

even process this. I’m meeting an actual celebrity.”

“Celebrity?” Nat shuts one eye, tilting her hand back and forth.

“He has a Wikipedia page! And a blue check mark—”

“Right, of course. Very famous,” she says. “ So famous.”

I cover her face with my palm. “You know what I mean! He’s supposed to live here .” I tap my phone screen. “But he’s going to be right there! In real life—in meat form!”

“Meat form?” Natalie gags, while Zora and Mark exchange tiny, quick smiles.

I ignore them, pressing the screen of my phone to my drumrolling heart.