Palms and Promises

Maya's hands were literally shaking as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the box of biotin **vitamin** supplements her mom had bought her. "It'll help your **hair** grow faster," her mom had promised, but Maya wasn't convinced. She'd already chopped it all off into a pixie cut last week—spur of the moment, post-breakup decision—and now she was stuck with this awkward growing-out phase that made her look like a confused hedgehog.

The first day back at school after her dramatic hair transformation, Maya's palms were sweating so bad she could barely hold her phone. When Jordan, the cute junior she'd been crushing on forever, actually noticed her new hair in homeroom, her face burned hotter than her phone after three hours of scrolling TikTok.

"Your hair looks... different," Jordan said, leaning closer. "In a good way."

Maya's heart did that thing where it felt like it was trying to escape her chest. She shoved her hands in her pockets, hoping her sweaty palms weren't too obvious. Then, without thinking, she extended her hand to grab a fallen pen from his desk.

"Wait," Jordan said, catching her wrist. "Let me see your palm."

"What? No!" Maya pulled back, but he was already turning her hand over, his fingers warm against hers.

"My grandma taught me palm reading," he said, tracing the lines on her palm with his thumb. "You're gonna do something brave this month. I can tell."

Maya rolled her eyes but didn't pull away. Maybe the hair cut wasn't the last spontaneous thing she'd do. Maybe the brave thing was letting herself be seen—really seen—for the first time since everything fell apart.

"Maybe," she said, letting her fingers linger in his for just a second longer than necessary. "Or maybe I just need more vitamins."