Palm Reading at Parker's Party

My palms were sweating like crazy. Not just a little damp—full-on slippery, grip-losing moisture. Of course this would happen the night Maya decides to drag me to Parker's party, where apparently half the junior class is gathered in someone's basement that smells like cheap body spray and desperation.

"You're doing it again," Maya said, nudging me. "That thing where you look like you're mentally calculating escape routes."

"Because I AM," I shot back. "I've been here twenty minutes and I already miss my bed."

Maya rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "You promised you'd try. Remember? New semester, new you?"

Right. The New Me. The version of myself who doesn't overthink everything and definitely doesn't have panic attacks in other people's bathrooms. The version who can talk to people without rehearsing conversations in the shower first.

That's when I saw it across the room—Jordan, sitting on the couch with that sphinx-like expression she always wore. Mysterious. Unreadable. The kind of person who could know all your secrets and never let on. We'd been sort-of friends since seventh grade, but lately she'd been distant, texting less, always busy with her new theater friends.

Parker's cousin Brianna was doing palm readings in the corner because apparently that's what cool people do at parties now. Everyone was oohing and ahhing like she was some kind of psychic instead of just someone who watched too many YouTube tutorials.

"Your turn!" Brianna grabbed my wrist before I could escape.

The room went quiet. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might actually break a rib.

"Hmm," Brianna said, tracing the lines on my hand with way too much intensity. "You're going to meet someone important tonight. Someone who'll change everything."

I laughed nervously. "Yeah, okay. Nice try."

But then I looked up and locked eyes with Jordan across the room. She actually smiled—a real one, not the fake polite one she'd been giving me for weeks. And then she was walking over, making her way through the crowd like she had some kind of mission.

"Hey," Jordan said, sliding onto the couch next to me. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Me?" I squeaked. Smooth. Truly smooth.

"Yeah, you. I wanted to tell you something." She leaned closer. "I missed you. Like, a lot. I've been dealing with some stuff and I didn't know how to talk about it, but that's not fair to you. You're my friend, and I've been a terrible one lately."

My palms weren't sweating anymore. They were just warm, and so was everything else.

"It's okay," I said. "I've been there too."

Maybe the New Me didn't have to be a completely different person. Maybe she just had to be brave enough to stay.