Palm Reader at the Pool Party

Maya's palms were sweating as she stood by the **pool** edge, clutching her cup of lukewarm soda like it was a lifeline. This was supposed to be the party of the year—Jake's house, his parents gone, the whole sophomore class invited. And here she was, wearing the wrong swimsuit, feeling like she'd crashed a movie she hadn't auditioned for.

"Hey! You're that girl who reads palms, right?"

Maya turned to find Chloe, the popular girl whose Instagram stories everyone actually watched, standing there with genuine curiosity. Behind Chloe, the **baseball** team guys were doing cannonballs off the diving board, probably trying to impress someone.

"Yeah, I mean, kinda?" Maya said, instantly regretting how unsure she sounded. "It's just something I learned from my grandma."

"That's so cool!" Chloe sat down on the pool deck, patting the spot next to her. "Do mine?"

Maya's heart raced as she sat, crossing her legs and trying to look casual. She took Chloe's hand—her manicure was perfect, obviously—and studied the lines like she actually knew what she was doing.

"You're... gonna do something creative," Maya improvised, tracing what she hoped was a heart line. "Like, really creative. People are gonna notice you."

Chloe's eyes widened. "No way. I've been secretly writing songs and—" she stopped herself. "Never mind."

"No, tell me!"

They talked for twenty minutes about music and anxiety and how everyone felt fake sometimes. Then Jake stumbled over, tangled in the TV **cable** he'd been trying to fix for a movie marathon, and asked Maya if she wanted to play beer pong. She said yes, and when she won, nobody looked at her like she was invisible anymore.

Later that night, Maya's palms weren't sweating anymore. Some things about popularity still confused her, but at least now she knew: the right people didn't just see the weird palm reader girl. They saw the real her.