Palm Lines at the Pool Party

Riley's palms were sweating against the iPhone case, leaving foggy smudges on the screen. Pool parties were basically their own special circle of hell, especially when your social skills maxed out at awkward nodding.

"You okay?" Marcus asked, already halfway through his second soda. "You look like you're gonna throw up."

"Fine," Riley lied, popping another vitamin D gummy from the bottle in their pocket. Their mom had started buying them after Riley spent winter break basically never leaving their room. "Just... needed this."

"Right. The vitamin. Because that's definitely why you've been staring at your phone for twenty minutes."

The backyard was packed with people from school, all either in the pool or orbiting around it like they were gravitationalally pulled toward the chlorinated water. Someone had started a game of volleyball, and Riley watched as Maya—soft-spoken Maya from AP English—launched herself over the net, hair streaming behind her like a war cry.

Since when did Maya do sports?

"I'm gonna go... check something inside." Riley backed away before Marcus could respond.

The bathroom mirror showed someone trying too hard. Too much eyeliner, shirt that screamed "I'm cool actually" in neon letters. The worst part was, nobody here even cared enough to notice. They were all too busy being actual people with actual lives.

Riley pulled out their iPhone and opened the stupid palm reading app they'd downloaded at 2 AM last night. What if they actually got good at it? Could be their thing. The thing that made them interesting.

"Show me your hand and I'll tell your future," Riley whispered to their reflection. "You will die alone. Thanks for consulting."

Okay, wow. Even their own brain was roasting them now.

They washed their hands in cold water, trying to calm down. The bottle of vitamins sat on the counter like a judgmental paperweight.

Back outside, someone had cleared off the patio table. Maya was there, wringing out her hair into a towel, looking like she'd just won a war.

"Hey," she said, catching Riley's eye. "You're Riley, right? From English?"

"Yeah. Hi."

"You look like you're hiding." Maya tilted her head. "Wanna join the losers' club? We're sitting this round out."

The losers' club. Riley almost laughed. Instead, they found themself sitting across from Maya, watching the pool lights dance across her wet arms.

"So," Maya said. "What do you do? Like, for fun? Or are you mysterious?"

Riley's brain short-circuited. Fun? They did avoidance and existential dread. But the words tumbled out anyway: "I can read palms."

Maya's eyebrows shot up. "For real? That's actually sick. Do it."

"What?"

"Read my palm. I wanna know my future." Maya held out her hand, water still dripping from her wrist.

Riley stared at it. Then at their own phone, still unlocked to the app. Then they grabbed Maya's hand and started making stuff up.

"This line means you're gonna do something crazy brave soon. And this one? You meet someone who changes everything."

Maya grinned. "Predictable. I already did."

"What?"

"Talked to you, dummy." She bumped their knee with hers. "Now get in the pool with me before I drag you in."

Riley let their iPhone fall onto the table. Their palm was sweating again, but maybe that was okay.

"Fine," they said. "But if I drown, blame your lifeguard skills."

Maya laughed, and it was the realest sound Riley had heard all summer.

"Deal."