Palm Reader at the Pool Party

The humidity was absolutely nasty — that thick Florida kind that makes your clothes stick to you like plastic wrap. I stood at the edge of Maya's above-ground pool, clutching a red Solo cup like it was a lifeline, while some sophomore named Jasmine claimed she could read palms.

"Okay, give me your hand," Jasmine said, grabbing my wrist before I could dodge. She traced a line across my **palm** with manicured nails, squinting like she was deciphering ancient texts instead of my sweaty hand. "Ooh, you're gonna have drama in your love life this summer."

"Cap," I said, trying to pull away. "You literally said that to Sarah five minutes ago."

Just then, Tyler — the Tyler who'd been ghosting me for three weeks despite whatever happened at homecoming — cannonballed into the pool. **Water** exploded everywhere, soaking my favorite cutoffs. "My bad!" he called, laughing like he hadn't just ruined my night.

"That's it," I muttered. I was done being the chill girl who waited around for texts that never came.

I climbed onto the diving board, the heat radiating against my bare feet. My heart was doing that chaotic flutter thing, but honestly? What did I have to lose?

"Yo, watch this!" someone yelled from behind me.

I didn't do some perfect Olympic dive. I just... let go. The **water** swallowed me whole, cool and shocking and perfect. When I broke the surface, sopping wet and laughing so hard my stomach hurt, Tyler was staring.

"That's **bull**," Jasmine announced from her lawn chair, still holding someone's hand. "Your palm totally didn't predict this energy."

"Exactly," I said, flipping my wet hair out of my face. "Maybe I'm done letting other people tell me what's gonna happen."