Poolside Palm Reader

The house party was already lowkey lit when Maya arrived, clutching her red solo cup like it was a lifeline. Sophomore year and she still felt like a fraud at these things, watching from the edges as the "popular crew" dominated the **pool** area with their effortless vibes and perfect Tik poses.

"You're blocking the **water**," said a voice behind her. Maya turned to find Leo — the quiet skater boy from her English class — gesturing at the giant inflatable **goldfish** floating awkwardly against the pool's edge.

"Oh. Sorry." She stepped aside, accidentally stepping on someone's abandoned paper plate. The **spinach** artichoke dip smeared across her white Converse. "Perfect. Just perfect."

Leo actually laughed. "Same time last month? Spilled an entire slushie on some freshman's limited edition Jordans. Thought I was gonna die."

Maya cracked a smile. "For real?"

"Swear on my life." He held up his **palm** like he was taking an oath. "Chaos follows me, dude. It's a curse."

"Is that why you're hiding back here?" she asked, feeling weirdly comfortable with this random conversation.

"Nah. Just not really into the whole performing thing tonight." He leaned against the fence. "You?

"Same," Maya admitted, something loosening in her chest. "Always feel like I'm doing it wrong. Like everyone got the handbook and I missed the memo."

"Bro SAME." Leo's eyes widened. "I'm convinced there's a group chat where they plan all this stuff and literally nobody invited us."

They both burst out laughing, and suddenly the party didn't feel so intimidating. They spent the next hour making up increasingly wild theories about the "popular conspiracy" — Leo was convinced they practiced their laugh in mirrors, Maya argued they were actually aliens conducting social experiments.

When Maya's mom finally texted that she was outside, Maya didn't want to leave.

"Hey," Leo said, "maybe next time we just skip the pretending and go straight to hiding in the back?"

"Deal." She grinned, walking to her mom's car with actual spring in her step.

Later that night, she'd realize something bigger: she'd spent months trying to fit into a world that wasn't hers, when all she'd really needed was someone else who felt like they didn't fit either.