Palm Reading at the Pool Party

The **water** in the McKennas' pool glowed that impossible electric blue, like something out of a Instagram filter come to life. I stood at the edge clutching my red Solo cup like it was a lifeline, watching the **social pyramid** of sophomore year play itself out in real time. Jordan and her crew dominated the shallow end—cheerleaders, lacrosse stars, the people who actually got tagged in Instagram stories. Meanwhile, I was part of the floating debris: the theater kids, the band geeks, the ones who brought board games to parties.

My palms were sweating so hard I could've filled another Solo cup. Because tonight was the night. I was finally going to talk to Madi—her hair that perfect messy bun, her laugh carrying across the backyard like sunshine. I'd spent three weeks working up to this moment. My best friend Leo said I was overthinking it, which was rich coming from someone who'd once spent forty-five minutes analyzing whether a girl's three-second glance meant true love or she was just looking at the clock behind him.

"Hey, you want this?" Some dude I didn't recognize shoved an **orange** slice toward me. "Vitamin C. For the immune system." He said it with such intensity that I almost accepted it out of pure confusion.

"I'm good," I managed, just as Madi climbed out of the pool, **water** droplets racing down her arms like they were competing for something.

She saw me. She actually saw me. And she was walking over.

"You're that guy who does the palm readings at lunch, right?" She asked, tilting her head.

I stared at her, my brain short-circuiting. "Uh, what?"

"Palm readings. My friend Maya said you told her she'd meet a tall dark stranger, and then she literally met her current boyfriend at Target two days later. So hit me with it—what's my future?"

I held out my hand, trying to look mystical instead of like I was about to pass out. She placed her hand in mine, and suddenly the entire social pyramid didn't matter. The cheerleaders could have their shallow end. The popular kids could have their Instagram stories. I was here, holding Madi's hand, making up the most ridiculous fortune about how she'd become a famous marine biologist who discovered a new species of bioluminescent squid, and she was laughing, actually laughing, and it was better than any prediction I could've come up with.

"You're weird," she said, but she was smiling. "I like weird."

The pool lights flickered on, sending ripples across the **water**, and I realized something: sometimes the best moments aren't the ones you plan for. They're the ones that find you when you stop trying to climb to the top of the pyramid and just start swimming.