Palm Reader at the Pool

Maya's secret wasn't that she was into girls—that she'd figured out last year. Her secret was weirder. She read palms at the back of the cafeteria during lunch for three bucks a pop.

"Dude, are you seriously doing this again?" Sasha rolled her eyes, sliding onto the bench across from her. "You're literally the best swimmer on the team, and you're out here telling people their 'life line' looks promising."

Maya shrugged, covering her notebook. "It pays for Chipotle."

"Whatever." Sasha flipped her hair. "You coming to Jordan's party tonight? The whole team's gonna be there."

Swimming had always been Maya's escape—the water drowning out everyone's expectations, the chlorine smell better than real life. But lately she'd been feeling like she was underwater even on dry land, watching everything happen through a distorted lens.

"I don't know," Maya said. "I have that meet tomorrow."

"It's just a party. Live a little." Sasha's expression softened. "Look, I know things have been weird since you came out to me. But I'm trying, okay? Be my friend again?"

Maya sighed. "Fine."

The party was exactly what she expected—too loud, too many bodies, Jordan's above-ground pool already looking questionable. Maya stayed on the edges, nursing a warm soda she didn't want, until she saw someone she actually wanted to talk to.

Harper.

Harper from English class, Harper who wrote poetry on her sneakers, Harper who had smiled at Maya last week like she actually saw her.

Maya's heart did this embarrassing flutter thing. She blamed it on the secondhand smoke from the patio.

"Hey," Harper said, suddenly beside her. "You're Maya, right? The palm reader?"

Maya felt her face heat up. "Oh god, who told you that?"

"Sasha." Harper's lips curved into a smile that made Maya's stomach flip. "Can I get a reading?"

Before Maya could respond—before she could make a joke or deflect or literally anything—she heard it. Thunder.

Then the sky opened up.

"Everyone out of the pool!" Jordan's mom screamed from the back door. "There's lightning!"

Harper grabbed Maya's hand. "Come on!"

They ran through the downpour to the covered porch, dripping wet, hearts racing. Maya looked down at their joined hands—Harper's fingers interlaced with hers, palms pressed together like she was actually reading her fortune.

"Your turn," Harper said, breathless. "Read mine."

So Maya did. She traced the lines on Harper's palm with her thumb and improvised something about adventure and big changes and not being afraid of what you want. And when Harper looked at her like she was seeing everything—really seeing her—Maya thought maybe the universe wasn't so random after all.

Sometimes lightning strikes. Sometimes you jump into the deep end anyway. And sometimes, just sometimes, you find exactly what you're not looking for.