Palm Reading at the Party

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could probably water plants with them. This was it—her first actual high school house party, and she was currently hiding behind a potted fake plant, spying on Jake from across the room.

"You know he's not gonna magically appear in front of you, right?"

Maya jumped. It was Sam, her neighbor since third grade, now wearing way too much eyeliner and holding what looked like a vitamin gummy. "It's not drugs," Sam said, catching her look. "My mom makes me take these. Says I'm deficient in something. Want one? They're cherry."

"I'm good," Maya said. "I'm already dying of nerves."

"Same. That's why we're over here being absolute creeps instead of actually talking to people." Sam nodded toward Jake, who was laughing at something by the soda table. "So what's the plan? You gonna keep playing spy all night, or..."

Before Maya could answer, something brushed against her leg. She looked down to see the host's fat orange cat weaving between her ankles like it owned the place. The cat jumped onto the couch beside them and stared at Maya with what looked like judgment.

"Great. Now the cat's disappointed in me too."

Suddenly, CRACK—a flash of **lightning** lit up the entire room through the sliding glass doors. Half the party screamed. The lights flickered and died. Total darkness.

"Everyone stay calm!" someone shouted.

A phone flashlight clicked on. Then another. The room glowed with scattered beams. And there was Jake, standing right in front of her, probably heading toward the bathroom when the lights went out.

"Hey," he said. "Maya, right? You sit behind me in bio."

Her palms were officially a disaster. "Yeah! Hi! I like your... shirt? It's very... shirt-like."

Sam snorted so loudly it was practically a bark.

"Thanks," Jake said, completely missing the awkwardness. "Hey, some of us are going to do palm readings in the basement since there's nothing else to do. You wanna?"

Palm readings. Like, actually holding hands. Maya's brain short-circuited.

"Yes," she said, way too quickly. "Like, palm reading? I mean sure. Sounds fake and fun. I'm in."

The cat purred like it approved.

Later, in the candlelit basement, Jake would trace the lines on her **palm** and tell her she was going to do something brave someday. She didn't believe in any of it, obviously. But she did believe in the way he looked at her, and the way her stupid traitorous hand didn't even sweat that time.

Sometimes the universe gives you exactly what you need, even if it has to strike it into you with **lightning** first.