Palm Lines and Party Lights

Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her jeans for the third time, checking her phone like her life depended on it. Technically, it did—or at least her social life did.

She'd been spy-mode-stalking Jordan's Instagram story for twenty minutes. He'd posted a picture of a pool party. At Tyler's house. The party everyone was going to. The party Maya hadn't been invited to. Yet.

"You need to go, though," Chloe insisted through the phone, voice muffled by what sounded like chips. "Everyone's gonna be there. It's literally the kickoff for junior year."

"I wasn't invited."

"So? Just show up. It's Tyler. His parties are basically open house. Also, drink water. You sound dehydrated."

Maya rolled her eyes but grabbed her water bottle anyway, chugging it like she was preparing for a marathon instead of a potential social disaster.

Her mom poked her head into the room. "Did you take your vitamins?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Good. You're growing. You need them. Also, did you put on sunscreen?"

"MOM. I'm fifteen, not five."

"That's what they all say. Have fun!"

Maya stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her palm lines looked like a roadmap to nowhere. What would her life look like if she actually went? What if Jordan actually noticed her?

What if she made a complete fool of herself?

She grabbed her phone, opened Jordan's story again, and hit reply. "Hey, is it cool if I come?"

Three dots appeared.

Maya's palms found her jeans again.

"Yeah totally!!!" Jordan replied. "Bring a swimsuit"

Her heart did that terrifying, amazing flutter thing.

"You're going, right?" Chloe had somehow predicted this.

"Yeah," Maya whispered, then louder. "Yeah."

Her palm didn't feel sweaty anymore. It felt ready.

For whatever happened next.