Palm Reader's Prophecy

Maya yanked the beanie **hat** lower over her messy bun, wishing she could disappear into the basement wall. The house party thumped with bass that vibrated in her chest, but she felt like a walking **zombie** after three nights of TikTok-induced insomnia.

"You look like you're plotting something," whispered Leo, the cute junior from her English class. He was leaning against the fridge, looking unfairly good even in dim lighting.

Maya's palms instantly got sweaty. Great. Now he'd think she was gross. "Just observing," she managed, though her voice cracked. "Like a social **spy** gathering intel on who's hooking up with who."

Leo laughed, and Maya felt that stupid flutter in her chest. "Come on. I'll show you something cooler than this mess."

He led her outside to the patio, where the air smelled like chlorine and backyard BBQ. Leo sat on a lounge chair and held out his hand. **Palm** up.

"My sister's obsessed with astrology and tarot and stuff," he said. "Read my fortune."

Maya stared at his hand, long fingers and a tiny scar on his knuckle. "I don't know how to read palms."

"Just make something up. Pretend." His eyes crinkled when he smiled.

She traced a line on his palm with her fingertip, heart hammering. "This, um, this long line means you'll be successful. And this one here..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "This tiny one means you'll meet someone special soon. Like, tonight."

Leo went quiet. The music from inside muffled to a distant pulse. Then he turned his hand over and caught her fingers, intertwining them with his.

"What if the prophecy's already coming true?" he said softly.

Maya forgot how to breathe. The zombie feeling vanished, replaced by electricity. She pulled her hat off and let her hair fall loose, not hiding anymore.

"Maybe," she said, smiling, "it's not magic. Just good timing."