Palm Reader's Cat

Maya's secret wasn't that she was failing algebra. It wasn't that she had a hopeless crush on Alex from chemistry. Her secret was weirder: she could read palms.

"Dude, are you actually psychic or is this some whole witchy aesthetic thing?" Chloe leaned against the bathroom stall, flawless makeup reflected in the mirror as she reapplied lip gloss.

Maya dried her sweaty **palm**s on her jeans. "It's just... intuitive."

"Whatever. Just don't make it weird at Tyler's party tonight." Chloe flipped her hair. "And seriously, you need to fix your skincare routine. My sister swears by this **vitamin** C serum, it literally changed her life."

Maya nodded but wasn't listening. Her mind was already at the party, imagining all the ways it could go wrong. The only creature who truly understood her was Mr. Whiskers, her chunky tabby **cat** who waited at home, probably judging her from atop the refrigerator.

By 11 PM, Maya was hidden behind a potted plant in Tyler's backyard, wishing she'd never come. The bass thumped through her chest. People were playing beer pong with terrifying intensity. She'd said exactly three words to Alex: "Hey, what's up?" His response: "Not much." Conversation dead.

"There you are!" Chloe appeared, dragging some girl Maya didn't recognize. "This is Riley. She wants her palm read."

Riley's eyes were wide. "Chloe said you can tell people's futures."

Maya's stomach did that thing where it tried to exit her body. "I mean, I can try—"

"Cool." Riley thrust her hand forward. "Am I gonna get into USC?"

The backyard suddenly went quiet. Someone had turned down the music. Maya stood there, surrounded by half the junior class, holding a stranger's hand, feeling like the world's biggest fraud.

Then she saw it: Riley's lifeline curved deep, her head line shot straight like an arrow, and right there, where her fate line should've been, was this tiny little break that looked like a lightning bolt.

"You're gonna get in," Maya heard herself say. "But you're gonna major in something totally different than you think. Like, something creative. Your line splits—see this? You've got two paths, and the creative one is way stronger."

Riley's jaw dropped. "Holy crap. I applied as a biology major but I actually want to do film. How did you—"

"Also," Maya continued, feeling strangely brave, "you're gonna meet someone important at a concert next month. Like, important-important."

"I have tickets to Coachella!" Riley squealed. Next thing Maya knew, she was surrounded by a cluster of partygoers, all demanding their turns.

Alex from chemistry pushed through the crowd. "Is it true? Can you really—"

Maya looked at him, really looked at him, and something clicked. She didn't need to read his palms to know he was just as nervous as she was. His smile was genuine. His eyes were kind.

"Maybe," she said, grinning. "What's it worth to you?"

Later that night, Maya crept into her room, Mr. Whiskers winding around her legs like he'd been waiting hours. She flopped onto her bed, cat purring against her chest, and pulled out her phone.

New message from Alex: Thanks for tonight. You're kinda amazing.

Maya grinned at the ceiling. Mr. Whiskers meowed.

"You have no idea," she told him. "You have absolutely no idea."