Palm Reads and Poolside Truths

The sweat pooling in my palms wasn't from the July heat. It was pure, unadulterated terror.

"You're gonna tell her, right?" Marcus asked, nudging my shoulder. "Or you gonna keep feeding her that bull about your mom being a psychic?"

I'd been telling people my mom could read palms since seventh grade. It was the only interesting thing about me, or so I'd thought. Now here I was at Jessica's end-of-summer pool party, watching Maya—the girl I'd been crushing on since orientation—walk across the deck toward me, her swimsuit shimmering like liquid hope.

"Hey Leo," she said, dropping onto the lounge chair beside me. "Your mom free this weekend? My cousin's having relationship drama and needs... clarity."

The pool water sparkled behind her, an ocean of my own impending doom.

"Look, Maya, I—"

"YO,watch THIS!" Someone yelled.

We turned to see Jordan, this quiet kid who'd been sitting on the diving board, suddenly launch himself into a full bull-rider pose, arms flailing, screaming something that sounded like a cowboy war cry. He hit the water in an epic catastrophe of splash and limbs.

Everyone cracked up. Everyone except Tyler, who started doing that laugh that's actually mean.

"Jordan thinks he's SO cool," Tyler called out. "Bro, you look like a confused bear trying to swim."

Jordan resurfaced, water dripping from his hair, his expression crushed. And I realized—I could keep sitting here, letting him get shredded, or I could finally stop being the person who just watched things happen.

I stood up.

"Actually," I said, my voice cracking, "that was pretty sick, Jordan. You got any more moves?"

Jordan's face lit up. "I've been working on this one—"

"Nobody cares, Jordan," Tyler snapped.

"I care," I said, surprising myself. "And if you're gonna roast people, at least be original. That bear joke was weak."

Marcus and a few others nodded. Tyler looked around, realized he'd lost the room, and muttered something about getting more chips.

Maya was watching me, this tiny smile on her face. "You know," she said, "my cousin's actually really into astrology. You could've just said that instead of making stuff up."

"Yeah," I said, finally wiping my sweaty palms on my shorts. "I'm working on that whole 'being myself' thing."

"Good," she said. "Because the real version seems way cooler."