Palm Readings & Parking Lots

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually dripping. She wiped them on her jeans again, leaving dark streaks on the denim.

"You're spiraling," Chloe whispered, nudging her with a sneaker. They were crouched behind the concession stand at the fall festival, definitely not spying on Lucas by the popcorn machine. Definitely not. "He's just a guy. A guy who thinks he's too cool for school events but still showed up anyway."

"He's looking this way," Maya hissed, ducking lower. Her heart did that stupid fluttery thing it always did when he was within a fifty-foot radius. "He's totally gonna think I'm a creep."

Chloe rolled her eyes so hard Maya practically felt it. "Or he'll think you're shy. Or he won't think anything at all because he's too busy being a moody teenager with great hair. You gotta stop treating this like a covert operation, Maya. This isn't some spy movie. You're not gonna defuse any bombs. You're just gonna—"

"Talk to him," Maya finished sarcastically. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's been crushing on him since seventh grade and still hasn't managed to form a complete sentence in his presence."

The autumn wind rustled the nearby trees, carrying the scent of kettle corn and everything Maya was too anxious to enjoy. This whole identity crisis thing was getting old. She was tired of being the quiet one, the background character in everyone else's story.

Lucas started walking toward them. Maya's brain short-circuited.

"Okay, I can't bear this," she whisper-yelled, grabbing Chloe's arm. "Abort mission. I repeat, abort mission."

"Too late," Chloe said, straightening up and flashing a bright smile. "Hey, Lucas! What's up?"

He stopped. His dark eyes found Maya's, and for a second, she forgot how to breathe.

"Hey," Lucas said, then to Maya: "Your sister's looking for you. Something about your mom's palm reading setup?"

Palm readings. Right. Maya's family's booth was like, ten feet away. How had she forgotten that her actual entire family was witnessing this pathetic attempt at covert social espionage?

"Oh," she said brilliantly. "Cool. Thanks."

"Cool," he echoed.

The most awkward silence in the history of the universe stretched between them. Maya felt like she was being offered as a sacrifice to the god of teenage humiliation.

Then something weird happened. Lucas smiled—a real one, crinkling by his eyes. "Your mom told my fortune last year. Said I'd meet someone unexpected."

Maya's brain stopped working. "Yeah? What else did she say?"

"That's classified," he said, then—"Wanna walk over there together?"

Maya stood up, her palms still damp but her heart doing something different now. Something like hope.

She caught Chloe's expression. Pure I-told-you-so energy, but also genuine happiness. Her best friend looked sly as a fox, like she'd planned this whole thing.

Maybe she had.

"Yeah," Maya said, falling into step beside Lucas. "Let's go."

Behind her, Chloe did a tiny victory dance. Nobody saw it except the festival lights flickering on, one by one, painting everything gold.