Palm Readings and Dead Eyes

Maya's frizzy **hair** had a mind of its own, kind of like her social life at Northwood High. She stood in the corner of Tyler's basement party, watching everyone else living their best lives while she practiced her breathing exercises to calm the sweating in her **palm**s.

The party was supposed to be lit, but honestly? Most people looked like **zombie**s from finals week - dead eyes, shuffling movements, surviving on caffeine and vibes alone. Even the "cool kids" who usually ran the school's social hierarchy seemed off tonight.

Then she saw Jake, the guy she'd been lowkey crushing on since September, standing by the makeshift fortune-telling station some genius had set up. A girl with too much eyeliner and a questionable tarot deck was reading palms for five bucks.

"Your turn," Jake said, catching Maya staring. He waved toward the empty chair. "I dare you."

Challenge accepted. Maya sat down, extending her hand. The fortune-teller traced her life line with manicured nails, then suddenly stopped.

"Interesting," the girl said, dropping the mystical voice. "You've been waiting for something to happen. But here's the thing -" she leaned closer, "**lightning** doesn't strike when you're hiding in the corner. It hits when you're out in the open."

Maya pulled her hand back, weirdly shook. Jake was watching her with actual interest, not polite tolerance.

"So," he said, "you believe in that stuff?"

"Maybe," Maya said, feeling something shift inside her. "Or maybe I'm just done hiding in corners."

Outside, actual lightning cracked across the sky, and somehow that made more sense than anything else tonight. Sometimes you need a fake fortune teller and a basement party to realize you've been the one making yourself a zombie all along.

"Wanna get some air?" Jake asked.

Maya's palms stopped sweating. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

The storm was just beginning, but for the first time in forever, she wasn't afraid of getting caught in the rain.