Goldfish Grace

My palms were sweating so much I could barely grip my phone. This was it—my first real high school party, and I was about to humiliate myself.

"You got this, Maya," Zoë said, but she'd already abandoned me for the kitchen. Typical.

The party was at Jake's house, whose dad was the school mascot—the Golden Valley bear. The whole house was decked out in bear everything. Bear pillows. Bear posters. Even a literal bear rug that I accidentally stepped on and immediately apologized to.

I'd been there ten minutes and already felt like a goldfish in a bowl—everyone watching, judging, waiting for me to do something stupid.

Then lightning crashed outside and the power went out.

Perfect.

Someone screamed. Then someone laughed. Then someone dared someone else to do something in the dark, and suddenly we were all sitting in a circle on the floor playing truth or dare like this was a middle school sleepover.

"Maya, truth or dare?" Jake asked, and I could feel everyone's attention shift to me.

"Truth," I squeaked.

"Boring," someone muttered.

"What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you?" Jake asked, and I froze.

The silence stretched. Water from a spilled cup seeped into my jeans. I could feel my face burning, and suddenly I was back in seventh grade, throwing up in the cafeteria, everyone laughing, the smell of fake cheese...

"Actually," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "I'm really good at reading palms."

"For real?" Zoë called from somewhere in the dark.

"Yeah. I can tell your future."

I couldn't. I'd watched a YouTube video once.

But suddenly everyone was shoving their hands at me, and I was making up ridiculous predictions. "You're going to become a professional yodeler," I told someone. "You'll marry a vampire," I told another.

When the lights came back on, everyone was laughing, and for the first time all night, I was too.