Palm Readings & Pillow Forts

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could practically water plants with them. Which was ironic, considering she was currently trapped inside what Chloe proudly called "The Pillow Fort of Emotional Discovery."

"Dude, you're such a zombie," Chloe said, adjusting the fairy lights strung across Maya's ceiling. "You've been studying for finals since literally the dawn of time."

"It's been three days, not eternity." Maya flopped onto her bed, her brain feeling like it had been put through a blender. "I can't believe I let you talk me into a sleepover when I have a calc test Monday."

"Because you're my best friend and I bear the burden of ensuring you don't become a complete hermit." Chloe brandished a phone like a weapon. "Also, we're totally going to spy on whoever Jordan brings to his party tonight."

Maya perked up despite herself. Jordan, the cute junior from cross country, was having his first party since his parents went to Cabo. Everyone was going to be there. Everyone including Lucas.

Lucas, who'd sat behind her in English since September and somehow never noticed her staring at his hands when he took notes. Lucas, with his messy dark hair and tendency to rewrite essays three times because "they weren't quite right yet."

"We're not spying," Maya said, but she was already sitting up. "We're just... observationally gathering data."

"That's literally what spying IS." Chloe pulled up Instagram on her phone. "Oh damn, Jordan posted a story. Look at all those people."

Maya leaned in close, their shoulders pressed together, and there it was—a grainy video of Jordan's backyard, strings of lights, people she recognized from school. And there, near the back, was Lucas, laughing at something someone said, holding a red plastic cup like it was foreign technology.

"He's actually there," Maya whispered.

"And you're here, in your pillow fort, like a little goblin." Chloe grabbed Maya's hand. "Okay, fine, palm reading time. If I can't convince you to crash the party, at least let me predict your future."

"You don't know how to read palms."

"I watched like six YouTube videos. Give me your hand."

Maya hesitated, then extended her hand, palm up. Her heart line, her head line, her life line—all etched into skin she'd never really thought about before. Chloe traced them with a finger, brow furrowed in mock concentration.

"Your life line is super long," Chloe announced. "So that's good. You're not dying anytime soon. But your heart line..." She paused dramatically. "It's got this weird break in it. Like, something's gonna happen. Soon."

"That's conveniently vague."

"I'm telling you. Something's coming." Then Chloe's phone buzzed. Her eyes went wide. "Oh my GOD."

"What?"

"Jordan just posted another story. They're doing karaoke. Lucas is about to sing."

Maya's palms started sweating again. But this time, she didn't wipe them on her jeans.

"We're not really going to—"

"We're absolutely going," Chloe said, already pulling on her sneakers. "Your heart line predicted it. The universe literally wants you to get out of this pillow fort."

Maya thought about Lucas. She thought about being a zombie who only studied and never did anything brave. She thought about how she'd bear the regret of not going more than the embarrassment of showing up uninvited.

She grabbed her hoodie.

"Fine. But if we get caught, I'm blaming your palm reading."