Palm Reader's Prophecy

Maya's palms were sweating buckets, which was honestly embarrassing considering she was just standing in line at a carnival fortune teller booth with her bestie. The sign said "Madame Zora Knows All" but the booth smelled like stale popcorn and desperation.

"You're next," Chloe hissed, practically vibrating with energy. "This is gonna be so iconic."

Maya stepped inside. Madame Zora was maybe twenty, wearing way too much eyeliner and a crystal that was definitely plastic from a discount store.

"Your palm tells me..." Zora squinted dramatically at Maya's hand, "you're running from something."

Maya's stomach did a flip. Because yeah, she was totally running from the fact that she'd accidentally agreed to tutor her crush in chemistry, and she was barely passing herself.

"Also," Zora continued, "you need more vitamin D in your life. The sun is your friend, bestie."

Rude. But also accurate.

"And here's the tea," Zora said, suddenly intense. "Before this night ends, you'll either kiss someone or win a goldfish. Choose wisely."

Maya walked out in a daze. Chloe was practically waiting at her elbow. "So? What's the verdict?"

"Apparently I need to get outside more and I have to choose between kissing someone or winning a fish?"

Chloe's eyes lit up. "Oh my god, do you know who's here? JAVIER from third period English. He's by the ring toss."

Before Maya could process this, her stomach growled loud enough to startle a passing toddler. She'd been so busy overthinking everything that she'd forgotten to eat. Again.

"You know what?" Maya said, suddenly done with all of it. "I'm getting myself one of those giant pretzels, and then I'm winning that goldfish."

She did both. The pretzel was life-changing. The goldfish was a tiny, unimpressive orange blob in a plastic bag, but when she named it Triton and carried it home like it was the most precious thing in the world, something shifted. Maybe it wasn't about choosing between romance and fish. Maybe it was about choosing herself for once.

Her mom would definitely ask questions about the fish. Her palms would definitely sweat when she had to explain it. But for the first time in forever, Maya wasn't running from anything. She was just... there. Existing. With her fish and her pretzel and the sudden realization that sometimes the best prophecies are the ones you write yourself.