Palm Reader's Apprentice

Maya pressed her back against the rough bark of the palm tree behind the baseball field, heart hammering like she'd just been caught stealing. Technically, she was spying. Okay, definitely spying. But it wasn't creepy — it was anthropological research.

The social pyramid at Westwood High had been precisely mapped in Maya's mind since freshman year. Baseball players occupied the apex, naturally, and Tyler Chen wore the crown. His batting average was .412, his smile was illegally bright, and he had absolutely no idea Maya existed.

"Dude, you're literally hiding behind a palm tree," said Nina, dropping beside her with the subtlety of a thunderstorm. "This is peak stalker behavior."

"I'm not stalking. I'm observing cultural phenomena." Maya adjusted her glasses, which kept sliding down her nose in the humidity. "Also, how did you find me?"

"Your Instagram story. You posted the palm tree with the caption 'location: my grave.'" Nina handed her a water bottle. "You good?"

Maya took a long sip. "I don't know. Tyler waved at me today."

"Probably thought you were someone else."

"That's what I said! But what if — hear me out — what if he actually sees me? Like, the real me? Not just 'that quiet sophomore girl' but Maya-with-the-dope-taste-in-music-and-secretly-funny-internal-monologue Maya?"

Nina stared at her. "You quoted The Office in your head, didn't you?"

"Shut up."

"Hey, Maya!"

Both girls froze. Tyler was walking toward them, still in his baseball uniform, cleats clicking against the pavement. The pyramid trembled.

"Hey," Maya managed, her voice cracking approximately three times.

"I've been looking everywhere for you." He stopped in front of their palm tree sanctuary. "You dropped this after third period."

He held out a notebook. Maya's journal. The one with the doodles of his name surrounded by approximately forty tiny hearts.

She was going to move to Antarctica. "Thanks."

"No problem." Tyler grinned, and it was actually, unfairly bright. "Also, I like your drawings. That pyramid one in chem was actually pretty sick."

He walked away before Maya could process that he'd seen her doodle or that he'd used the word "sick" unironically or that Nina was silently screaming beside her.

"Told you," Nina said, grabbing her arm. "The real you. He sees it."

Maya looked at her journal, then at Tyler's retreating figure, then at the palm fronds swaying above them like they were laughing at her.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Maybe."