Palm Reader's Cat

Maya's palms wouldn't stop sweating. Great. Just what she needed—clammy hands while somehow trapped in a conversation with Jake, the only junior who actually made her stomach do that annoying flip-flop thing.

"So," Jake said, leaning against the kitchen island like he owned it. "I hear you're, like, psychic or something?"

Maya blinked. The heck? "Who told you that?"

"Chloe. She said you read palms at Sarah's party last month. That you called her breakup before it happened."

Oh my god. That had been a total joke—Maya had seen Chloe's boyfriend DMing another girl literally ten minutes earlier. But now everyone thought she was actually gifted. Typical high school telephone game.

"It's not—" Maya started.

"Do mine!" Jake grinned, shoving his hand in her face. "Tell me my future, Oracle Maya."

Before she could deflect, a flash of orange fur darted between Jake's legs. An enormous tabby cat—where did it even come from?—hopped onto the counter and started lapping from a solo cup.

"That's Herbert," Jake laughed, scratching the cat's ears. "My sister's Emotional Support Animal. Or just Emotional, depending on the day."

The orange cat locked eyes with Maya, then casually knocked over a bag of cheesy chips.

"Herbert says your future involves cleaning that up," Maya deadpanned.

Jake's eyes widened. "For real? Did the cat just tell you—"

"Dude," his friend Ryan appeared out of nowhere, clapping Jake on the shoulder. "Stop feeding people bull about the psychic stuff. Maya probably just wants to enjoy the party without being your entertainment."

Jake actually looked mortified. "Oh. Yeah, my bad. I didn't—"

"It's fine," Maya said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. Her palms had stopped sweating. "But Herbert says you owe me a churro for the emotional labor."

Jake grinned, and Maya's stomach did that flip thing again. Deal.

Sometimes being seen wasn't about being perfect. It was about finding people who got the joke—even when the joke was an orange cat judging your life choices.