Palm Reader's Curse

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, literally dripping onto her favorite ripped jeans as she stood in the corner of Jake's basement party, clutching a red solo cup like it was a lifeline.

"You look like a zombie," said her best friend Chloe, appearing beside her with zero sympathy. "You've been staring at Tyler for twenty minutes. Either talk to him or I'm telling him you're obsessed."

"I am NOT obsessed," Maya hissed, though her eyes betrayed her, sliding back toward Tyler where he leaned against the ping-pong table, laughing at something someone said. "I'm just... mentally preparing."

"You're mentally spiraling." Chloe rolled her eyes. "He's not even that cute."

"He's SO cute. Have you seen his jawline? It could cut glass."

Before Chloe could respond, Jake's cousin Brianna appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Maya's hand. "Oh my GOD, Maya, I forgot you're ACTUALLY good at palm reading! Do ME next!"

The entire party seemed to shift direction. Within seconds, Maya was surrounded by a circle of expectant teenagers, all thrusting their hands forward like she was some kind of mystical fortune teller and not just a girl who'd spent way too much time on TikTok learning parlour tricks.

"Okay, okay," Maya said, her voice coming out squeaky. She grabbed Brianna's palm, trying to remember anything from those videos. "This, um, this line means... you'll have a long life. And this one means you'll find love in—"

"WHAT ABOUT THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE?" someone shouted.

"The what?"

"Read her zombie apocalypse survival chances! That's the ONLY thing that matters!"

Maya panicked. "You'll... you'll survive? You have strong survival lines?"

The crowd erupted into cheers, and suddenly she was being passed around like a party trick, reading palms and making increasingly ridiculous predictions. Tyler was watching now, actually watching, and she felt herself flush with something between embarrassment and exhilaration.

Then she saw him walking over.

"Hey," he said, voice low and perfect. "Can you read mine?"

Her heart hammered against her ribs. "Sure."

She took his hand, trying to appear mystical and confident instead of like a girl who'd watched twelve YouTube tutorials. "This line means you'll be successful. And this one—"

Then she heard it.

"Psst. Maya."

Chloe's voice came from behind her, urgent and horrified. "You have spinach. In your teeth. From the dip earlier. It's been there for like an hour."

Maya froze. She'd been talking to Tyler—TO TYLER—with spinach in her teeth. She'd been reading palms and making jokes and feeling cool, all while looking like she'd eaten a salad and forgotten how to use a mirror.

The crowd went quiet.

"I..." Maya started, but there was nothing to say. She covered her mouth with her hand, her face on fire. "I have to go."

She ran.

But then—footsteps behind her. Fast footsteps.

"Maya, wait!"

She turned on the front porch, and there was Tyler, breathless and grinning.

"I have a mirror," he said. "And also, you should know—that zombie apocalypse prediction? I'm pretty sure you're going to survive."

She stared at him. "What?"

"Your palms." He shrugged, stepping closer. "They looked pretty confident to me."