Poolside Prophecy

The humidity clung to everything like a second skin. I stood at the edge of the pool, my cheap flip-flops sinking into the damp concrete, heart hammering against my ribs like a baseball in a catcher's mitt. Everyone else was already in the water, their laughter carrying across the backyard, but I couldn't make myself jump.

Then I saw her.

Maya had climbed onto the diving board, droplets of water tracing lines down her arms like she'd drawn them there herself. She was telling fortunes again, reading palms between cannonballs. Last week she'd told Ryan he'd meet his soulmate at a convenience store, and now he wouldn't buy slushies anywhere else.

"Your turn," she called out, splashing into the water and surfacing right beside me. Before I could protest, she grabbed my hand.

"Your palm's all sweaty," she teased, her thumb pressing into the center of my hand. "Nervous about something?"

Lightning cracked somewhere in the distance, close enough that the air suddenly tasted like ozone. Someone's phone buzzed with a weather alert. Thunderstorm warning.

"You have a long life line," Maya continued, her finger tracing the crease in my palm. "But this part here..." She tapped the spot below my index finger. "This means you're hiding something."

Everyone was getting out of the pool now, grabbing towels as the sky turned that weird purple-green color that means weather's about to get serious. But we stayed there, water dripping from my hair onto her shoulder, her thumb still pressing into my palm like she could read the truth through my skin.

"I'm not hiding anything," I lied.

"Your hand says otherwise." She looked up, and for the first time all summer, she wasn't laughing. "Also, I saw you watching me during baseball practice yesterday. Don't think I didn't notice."

Then she kissed me.

It wasn't like in the movies. There were no violins, no perfect angles. Just pool chemicals and impending rain and her cold lips against mine, my palms sweating for an entirely different reason now. The storm broke overhead, lightning turning everything white-bright for one perfect second before the sky opened up and everyone started screaming, running for the porch.

We stayed under the overhang, shoulder to shoulder, watching the rain turn the pool into something wilder, something untamed.

"Your prophecy," I said later, my voice barely audible over the thunder. "Did it say anything about what happens next?"

Maya smiled, and somehow the storm felt like the most natural thing in the world. "Some things," she said, "you have to figure out for yourself."