Palm Readings and Pyramid Schemes

Marcus's mom had done it again. Another "business opportunity" that was definitely not a pyramid scheme, according to the pyramid scheme itself.

"It's about financial freedom, Momo!" his mom chirped, arranging crystal pyramids on the dining table like they were sacred artifacts. "These pyramids harness ancient energy to—"

"To take money from desperate people, Mom?" Marcus adjusted his beanie, pulling it low. The hat was his armor—his vintage dad cap collection was basically his personality at this point.

"You're just not open-minded," she said, hurt.

Marcus grabbed his phone. Jordan was blowing up his group chat: *PARTY AT TIFF'S. HER PARENTS ARE GONE. NO CAP.*

Perfect timing. He needed to escape the pyramid-infested zone.

***

The party was exactly what Marcus expected: too loud, too many people trying too hard. He stuck to the kitchen, nursing a warm soda.

"Omg, are you Marcus?"

A girl appeared. Maya, from AP World. She was wearing the most terrifyingly cool outfit he'd ever seen—like, who actually looked good in a thrifted blazer?

"Yeah," he said, suddenly very aware of his stupid dad cap.

"I heard you can read palms," she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

What?

"Uh—"

"PLEASE." She grabbed his hand. "Tell me my future. Does Tyler like me? Is my life going to suck forever? Be honest. I can handle it."

Her palm was soft, her nail polish chipped. Marcus had never read palms in his life. But something about Maya—her messy hair, her desperate eyes, the way she didn't seem to notice he was socially awkward—made him want to try.

"Okay," he said, tracing a line on her palm. "See this? This is your adventure line. It's... really long. Like, suspiciously long."

Maya gasped. "No way."

"And this." He touched another line. "This is your—uh—your cryptocurrency line. You're gonna be rich, but like, ethically."

She laughed. "You're so full of shit." But she was smiling. "Tyler?"

Marcus looked at her palm. He didn't know Tyler from a hole in the wall, but he could guess.

"Tyler's..." He made a face. "Tyler's gonna text you at 2 AM wanting to hang out, but you're gonna screenshot it and send it to the group chat instead."

"Oh my GOD." Maya doubled over. "That is EXACTLY what he did last weekend."

They ended up on the roof, talking about everything and nothing. Marcus learned Maya wanted to be a journalist, hated her stepdad, and had never seen Star Wars. He learned that the pyramids in his living room weren't the worst thing that could happen to someone.

"Your turn," Maya said, grabbing his hand.

Marcus flinched. He wasn't ready for someone to see his future. Or his past.

"You don't have to," she said softly. "Just... your life line. That's all."

He let her trace the line on his palm. Her fingers were gentle.

"It's long," she said. "Like, really long. You're gonna be okay, Marcus."

Something in his chest loosened. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," he said. "Maybe."

***

Marcus got home at 2 AM. The pyramids were still on the table, glowing softly in the streetlight outside.

His mom was asleep on the couch, curled around a crystal like it was a teddy bear.

Marcus covered her with a blanket. Then he carefully moved the pyramids to the side, clearing space for morning breakfast.

Some things were cringe. Some things were embarrassing. But maybe—even between pyramid schemes and palm readings and parties where you didn't know anybody—you could find something real.

He texted Maya: *moon tomorrow?*

She responded immediately: *fr.

*

Marcus put his phone on the charger, hat still on, and finally fell asleep.