Palms Poolside

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could barely grip her phone. sophomore year, and somehow she'd been invited to Chloe's legendary end-of-summer pool party. The kind of event that defined your social status for the entire year.

"Hey, palm reader!" Chloe called out, pointing to the folding table where Maya had reluctantly set up her homemade sign. "Come do me next!"

Maya's stomach did flips. She'd only started learning palm reading from YouTube videos as a joke with her best friend, but now she was actually doing it. At the party of the century.

Then she saw him lumbering toward the table. Derek "The Bull" Masterson. Three-hundred-pound linebacker, king of the cafeteria, Maya's personal tormentor since seventh grade when he'd "accidentally" knocked her tray over every single day for three months.

Her palms went from sweaty to practically dripping. "I-I can take a break if—"

"Nah, I'm good." Derek dropped onto the tiny folding chair that groaned under his weight. He extended his massive hand, calloused from football, with a fresh bruise across his knuckles. "Let's see what you got."

Maya's voice trembled as she traced his life line. "You're... under a lot of pressure. People expect big things from you."

Derek snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."

She studied his palm more carefully, really looked. "But this line here..." She pointed to a small, delicate marking near his thumb. "This means you're hiding something. Something creative. Something that isn't... football."

Derek went completely still. The pool area got quiet as people stopped cannonballing to watch.

"I write poetry," he mumbled, so quietly Maya almost missed it. "But, like, don't tell anyone. I'd be absolutely cooked."

Maya met his eyes and saw something she'd never expected: terror. The Bull was scared.

"Your poem about the season opener," she said softly. "The one you read in English last year? It was actually kind of fire."

Derek's jaw dropped. "You remember that?"

"Everyone was too busy being basic to pay attention," Maya said, her confidence growing. "But I did. It was good."

Something shifted. The tension evaporated. Derek grinned — a real one, not his usual smirk. "Yeah? Well, maybe you're not bad at this palm thing."

"And maybe you're not just a bully," she shot back before she could stop herself.

He laughed, actually laughed. "Fair."

By the time the sun set, Maya had read half the party's palms, and somehow she'd gone from invisible to the center of attention. Not because she was Chloe's friend, or because she was cool, but because she'd actually seen someone.

Her palms were still sweaty. But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing anymore.