Palm Reader's Prophecy

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could practically water plants with them. She gripped her red solo cup like it was a lifeline, surveying the backyard bonfire party through the gaps in her fingers. Her best friend Chloe had dragged her here, promising this would be "the night Maya finally came out of her shell."

"You need a vitamin D supplement or something," Chloe had joked earlier. "You're practically translucent from staying in your room all summer."

Maya adjusted her dad's fishing hat — her attempt at hiding without actually hiding. It was working too well. Nobody had talked to her in forty-five minutes, unless you count the time someone asked her to move so they could get to the cooler.

Then she saw him: Lucas, the boy who sat behind her in English, setting up a folding table with a handwritten sign: PALM READING - $2 OR YOUR DIGNITY.

Maya's feet moved before her brain could protest. She found herself sitting across from him, her heart hammering against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

"Let's see what we've got here," Lucas said, taking her hand. His touch was gentle, his fingers tracing lines across her palm. "You've got a strong head line. Means you're overthinking everything."

Maya's breath caught. Was it that obvious?

"Your life line..." Lucas paused, studying her hand like it held the secrets of the universe. "You're waiting for something to happen, but you're too scared to make it happen yourself."

He looked up, and for the first time, Maya noticed his eyes — warm and brown, crinkled at the corners like he smiled a lot.

"The hat's not doing you any favors, by the way," he added.

Maya's hand flew to her head.

"I mean, you're cute, but it's like you're wearing a 'don't look at me' sign on your forehead." Lucas grinned. "Your turn. Two dollars or your dignity."

"I don't have any cash," she whispered.

"Then I guess I'm taking your dignity." He turned his hand over, palm up. "Read mine."

Maya stared at his hand, then up at his expecting face. Something shifted inside her — not a dramatic transformation, but a tiny click, like a key finally finding its lock.

"Your heart line is crooked," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "That means you fall for the wrong people."

Lucas laughed, and it was the best sound Maya had heard all summer.

"Accurate," he said. "Very accurate."

Maya took off the hat.