Palm Reader Spy

The house party thumped against Maya's ribs. She wasn't supposed to be here—her parents thought she was at Zara's studying chemistry—but here she stood, pressed against a wall in some senior's basement, feeling like a total fraud.

"You're literally vibrating," whispered Sam, her best friend since seventh grade. "Chill. You're supposed to be having fun."

Fun. Right. Maya's palms were so sweaty she could've watered a succulent. She wiped them on her dress—stupid move, now there were damp spots on the fabric. Great.

Across the room, Leo laughed at something. His hair was perfect. Of course it was perfect. Maya had been basically spy-level stalking him from afar for three months, which was pathetic but also, like, valid? She knew his coffee order (iced oat milk latte, two pumps vanilla), his schedule (AP Calc third period, always five minutes late), and the fact he chewed his lip when he was thinking.

Pathetic? Maybe. Dedicated? Absolutely.

"Yo, Maya!" Sam elbowed her. "Jordan wants you to read his palm."

Jordan. The guy who'd spent all of sophomore school spreading that rumor about Maya hooking up with the math teacher. Total bull, but people still made jokes.

"Pass," Maya said.

"Come on," Jordan called from the couch. "You did that whole palm reading thing at freshman orientation. Do me."

Sam hissed, "Just do it. Kill him with something devastating."

Maya sighed. Because apparently she had no self-respect left to lose tonight.

She crossed the room. Jordan held out his hand—grubby fingernails, a weird scar on his knuckle. Maya took it and tried to channel her grandmother, who actually knew this stuff for realsies.

"Your lifeline's short," she said, improvising wildly. "And your, um, fate line..." She traced a random crease. "It says you'll spread rumors about people to compensate for your own insecurities."

Silence.

Then Jordan burst out laughing. "Okay, that's actually kind of sick burn. Fair."

Maya dropped his hand and immediately started panic-wiping her palms again because GROSS.

"You're alright," Jordan said, actually smiling for once. "Hey Leo!" he yelled across the room. "Maya here says I'm gonna die young but with really good hair. You should get yours done."

Leo looked up. Their eyes met. For like, three whole seconds.

"Yeah," Leo said, still looking at her. "Yeah, I'm coming over."

Maya's palms stopped sweating. Mostly. Okay, not at all.

Sam mouthed "YOU'RE WELCOME" from across the room.

Maya didn't feel like a spy anymore. She felt like someone who was maybe, possibly, about to have her first real conversation with Leo while her best friend watched from the sidelines like the chaotic genius she was.

And Jordan? Well. His hair really was pretty good. She'd give him that.