It is 8:00 on a Wednesday night. I am sitting at a red light on my way to a piano lesson. Bored, I pull out my iPhone to check Instagram. The glowing screen burns my eyes and I am about to put away my phone when suddenly, I see a familiar car drive by in the opposite lane. I quickly throw my phone onto the passenger seat. But it is too late. The car in the opposite lane goes into reverse until the driver is looking at me from across the yellow lines. Then I hear the siren go off.

Red and blue flashing lights spill through the windows into the interior of my parked car. I stare out onto the dimly lit road ahead of me, jaw clenched and shoulders tight. I quickly glance at my iPhone, debating whether or not to hide it. Suddenly, there is a tap on the glass. I roll down the window.

“Good evening ma’am,” the police officer says. His flashlight searches my car until finally it lands on my iPhone.

“Hello officer,” I say to him with a smile. I try to conceal my guilt by using my most innocent tone of voice.

“Are you aware of California’s Hands Free law?” he asks. His voice sounds friendly, and for a second I allow myself to believe that nothing bad will happen.

“Yes,” I say. “But I was not aware that the rule applied if my car was stopped.”

“Unfortunately it applies any time you are on the road,” he says. “Do you have your license and registration?”

My heart drops and for a moment I forget to breathe. I quickly suppress my panic and smile again.

“Of course,” I say. I fish my license out of my bag and hand it to him. Then I open the glove compartment. Unsure of what my registration actually looks like, I hand him a bundle of official-looking papers.

He smiles, aware of my inexperience. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks and I smile back. He flips through the papers, removing two from stack and handing me the rest. Then he disappears.

My smile quickly dissolves and the panic returns. I begin to compile a list of all the consequences a ticket will have on a driver my age. I am also going to have to pay for the ticket myself, which is going to be very expensive. Having a ticket on my driving record could also increase the price of my insurance, a fee that my mom already thinks is too expensive. The list continues to grow, but one particular consequence lingers in the back of my mind. I could get my license suspended.

A wave of anxiety crashes down on me. The rule exists, but no one follows them. My self-pity reaches an all time high and I fall deeper into my pit of despair. But then I realize, this is no one’s fault but my own. It does not matter if everyone else does it. I broke the law. I let my obsession with social media get the best of me.

A million years pass before the police officer returns. He hands me my license and registration, which I hastily shove into my bag. Then he hands me a pad of paper, asking me to sign in the designated box. I quickly scribble on my signature and hand it back to him.

“So you and your parent will need to appear in court,” he says. “Bring the citation. The directions for calling to schedule an appointment are on the back.”

I nod and I can feel my legs start to quiver. I did not expect to have to go to court. “Unfortunately this street has a zero tolerance for any violation of the law,” he says. “If you talk to the judge, you might be able to go to driving school and have this ticket erased off of your record.” He smiles and I see a hint of pity in his eyes.

He tears a flimsy yellow sheet off of his note pad and hands it to me. The thin sheet feels heavy in my hands. I shove it into my bag, not wanting to accept its existence.

“You have a good night ma’am,” the policeman says. “Drive safely.”

I smile at him one last time before rolling up my window.

I cannot believe it. It has only been three months and and I have already gotten a ticket. All because I could not stay off of my iPhone.

It was stupid. I could have caused an accident if the light had turned green and I had been too distracted by my phone to drive safely. Driving is no joke and I put myself and everyone around me at danger just to look at a few filtered pictures. My frivolous need to feel artificially connected to the world caused me to risk everything for nothing.

I stare at my phone, hating it for having so much power over me. Never again will I touch my phone while I am at the wheel. It is not worth it.

My hands shake as I put the car into drive, and I quickly throw my iPhone into the back seat before driving away.