Palm Readings and Zombie Energy

Maya hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. Finals week would do that to you — turn you into a total zombie, shuffling through hallways with dark circles like permanent eyeliner. Her mom had left a bowl of vitamin gummies on the counter with a note that said "For your BRAIN," like they were some kind of academic performance enhancer.

She'd been crushing on Leo since September, since he'd let her copy his chemistry notes without even making her beg. Tonight, somehow, she'd ended up at Jordan's house party, standing in the kitchen while Leo's friend Chloe did fake palm readings for anyone who'd hold still long enough.

"Let me see your hand," Chloe said, grabbing Maya's wrist. "Ooh, short life line. That's bad news."

"Thanks, Chloe. Really boosting my confidence here."

Leo laughed from where he leaned against the refrigerator, and Maya's stomach did that embarrassing flip thing. "She's just messing with you. Your palm is fine."

"It's not about the palm," Chloe said, suddenly weirdly serious. "It's about the zombie energy you're giving off. When's the last time you slept?"

Maya started to deflect, make a joke about how her brain was running on vitamin supplements and spite, but Leo was still looking at her with those stupidly pretty eyes. Actually looking at her, not through her.

"Since Tuesday," she admitted. "I have a history test Monday."

"Dude, come on." Leo pushed off the refrigerator. "Let's go sit outside. It's too loud in here."

They ended up on Jordan's front steps, shoulder to shoulder. The neighborhood cat — this ancient calico that everyone fed — strolled across the lawn like she owned the place. The cat paused at the bottom of the steps and stared at them, judgmental and knowing.

"That cat's seen some things," Leo said. "She watched me throw up homecoming sophomore year."

Maya snorted, which was gross but also kind of perfect. "She's watched me fail at being a functional human being for like, three years now."

"You're doing fine."

"I literally haven't slept since Tuesday. I'm operating on vitamin gummies and panic."

Leo's palm brushed against hers, just for a second, warm and calloused from basketball practice. "Go home and sleep, Maya. The history test will still be there, and you'll crush it anyway."

The cat meowed, like she was agreeing.

"Yeah," Maya said, letting herself believe it, just for tonight. "Yeah, okay."

The cat watched them go, like cats do, as Maya walked home feeling somehow less like a zombie and more like a girl who might actually be okay.