Palms and Poolside Prophecies

Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time, watching Jenna's pool party unfold from the safety of the patio furniture. The pool gleamed like a turquoise gemstone, surrounded by laughing, splashing bodies who all seemed to know exactly how to exist.

"Hey! You coming in?" Tyler waved from the water, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He'd finally noticed her existence after two months of pre-calc together.

Maya's stomach did something complicated. "Maybe later!"

"You've been saying that for an hour," said Sasha, appearing beside her with two sodas. "Here. Non-alcoholic, unlike whatever they're passing around over there." She gestured toward the deeper end where a water bottle had just been launched from someone's hand.

"Thanks." Maya cracked the can open. "I just... I don't know. Everyone's swimming in their own groups, you know? Like literal schools of fish. Where do I fit?"

Sasha snorted. "First of all, that was a terrible metaphor. Second, you're overthinking it. Watch this." Sasha pulled Maya's hand toward her. "Let me see your palm."

"What? No. That's so weird."

"I'm basically an expert. My grandma taught me." Sasha traced a line on Maya's hand with her finger. "See this? This long one means you're going to do something brave today."

"You're making that up."

"Obviously. But the universe isn't. Notice how I didn't say you'd be good at it. Just brave." Sasha stood up. "Come on. I'm going in, and I need someone to laugh at my terrible cannonball."

Before Maya could protest, Sasha grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the **pool**.

"Wait, I can't—"

"Can't what? Look awkward? Too late for that, we're both wearing three-year-old swimsuits from Target."

They reached the edge. The water looked different up close—less terrifying, more like just water. Tyler was still there, floating on his back, watching them approach.

"Finally," he called out. "We were taking bets on whether you'd actually get in."

Maya looked at her sweaty **palm**, then at Sasha's encouraging expression, then at the water. Something shifted—a tiny rearrangement of possibilities.

She jumped.

The shock of cold water knocked the breath out of her, and she came up sputtering while Sasha hooted with laughter. Tyler swam over, grinning.

"See? Was that so bad?"

"I'm still deciding," Maya said, pushing wet hair out of her face. But she was smiling. For the first time all afternoon, her palms weren't sweating.

"Hey," Tyler said, treading water beside her. "My friends and I are going to the boardwalk tomorrow. You should come."

Maybe Sasha's grandma was onto something with the whole palm-reading thing. Or maybe bravery was just jumping in before you could talk yourself out of it.

Maya looked around at the other kids—no longer schools of fish, just people. Some she knew, some she didn't, some she might want to know.

"Yeah," she said. "I think I will."