Before the pandemic, Volk was a cheerleader. She’d been cheering since second grade, but she quit at the end of her sophomore year, when the cheering team stopped traveling to compete because of Covid. “There was no pride in winning,” she said. “I started to hate going to practice.” It was the same with class, which became an ambient, digital, white noise machine—an iPad tuned into English, geometry, chemistry or American history, but with the camera off.

The tangibleness of high school—sweaty locker rooms, polyester prom dresses, the cool metal of a first-place trophy, the puff of a contraband cigarette—was gone. It no longer mattered how high schoolers dressed, or whether they dressed, or even whether they showered.

Volk described that time as “just so much emptiness.”

“All of their freedom and autonomy went away with the lockdowns,” said Lily’s mom, Dr. Eliza Holland, a pediatrician who sees teenage girls suffering from suicidal ideation, eating disorders, and drug overdoses. “I recently had a patient who was sent up from the Emergency Department who kept telling me, ‘I will kill myself if you send me back to my family.’”