Palm Readings & Goldfish Secrets

The first party of sophomore year smelled like coconut wax warmer and nervous energy. Maya pressed her palm against her jeans, wiping sweat she pretended didn't exist. She'd spent the morning researching palmistry online after someone said she looked "mystical" — whatever that meant when you wore oversized hoodies and avoided eye contact in the hallway.

"You're going to read my palm?" Jake asked, leaning against his parents' pristine counter. The kitchen had those vitamin organizers on the windowsill, each day perfectly sorted. His mom was probably the type who meal-prepped and called it "self-care." Maya wanted to be that kind of organized, except she forgot to eat until 3 PM and lived off coffee.

"Sure," Maya said, trying to sound like she did this all the time instead of literally ten minutes ago. She traced the line on his palm with a confidence she absolutely did not feel. "This is your life line. It's... pretty deep. You'll live a long time. Unless that bull from freshman year science finally gets revenge."

Jake laughed, actually laughed, and Maya felt something shift in her chest like underwater currents. "That bull had personal issues," he said. "But seriously, what else can you tell me?"

Maya hesitated, then went for it. "You're gonna major in something practical. Business, maybe. You'll have a cat named something ridiculous like Professor Meowser. And you'll never admit you still sleep with a childhood stuffed animal."

"Professor Meowser is already on the shortlist," Jake said, grinning. "And the stuffed animal is a penguin named Waddles. Fight me."

Behind them, someone screamed like they'd seen a ghost.

They both turned. A goldfish — probably from the centerpiece that was definitely not supposed to be touched — was flopping on the linoleum, its orange scales catching the kitchen light. Three girls were frozen in horror, and someone's cat, a calico with zero respect for formal events, was already calculating its trajectory.

"NO," Jake yelled, lunging for the fish.

Maya moved faster, scooping the goldfish into her hands and dumping it into a nearby cup of what she really hoped was water and not something disastrous. The fish swam in circles, visibly judging everyone.

"That was... actually kind of heroic," Jake said, looking at her differently now. Not like she was the weird quiet girl in the back of English class, but like someone who'd just saved a life.

"Goldfish rights are human rights," Maya said, because what do you even say after that?

The cat, defeated, sat down and started aggressively grooming its tail like it had meant to do that all along.

"Hey," Jake said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Want to get food sometime? There's this Thai place that has actual vegetarian options that don't taste like sadness."

Maya's palm felt sweaty again, but differently this time. "Only if you promise to never make me hold your pet fish again."

"Deal," he said, and something about the way he smiled made Maya think maybe palm reading wasn't totally fake after all.