Poolside Sphinx and Palm Secrets

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could barely grip her red Solo cup. The pool party at Jake's house was supposed to be lit, but so far it was mostly just humid—like, emotionally and physically humid.

She'd spent three hours getting ready, perfecting that effortless messy bun that actually required zero effort. Now she stood by the palm tree in Jake's backyard, nursing her lukewarm soda and scrolling through Instagram stories of everyone having way more fun than she was.

"You look like you're mentally swimming upstream," a voice said.

Maya jumped. It was Orion, the quiet transfer student with the intense eyes that everyone called 'sphinx' because he never spoke but somehow knew everything. Like, actual ancient Egypt vibes.

"I'm good," Maya said, because she'd rather die than admit she felt like a social zombie who'd been going through the motions since seventh grade. "Just taking a breather."

"Mind if I crash your solo party?" He gestured to the empty space beside her.

She shrugged, trying to play it cool while internally screaming. Orion sat down, and they both watched a bunch of juniors cannonball into the pool with zero self-awareness.

"My sister thinks palm readings are BS," Orion said suddenly, "but she made me memorize all the meanings anyway. Want yours done?"

Maya blinked. "You? Palm reading?"

"I swear, cross my heart, if I'm wrong I'll never speak to you again." He held out his hand, palm up. "Your turn."

Cautiously, she placed her hand in his. His fingers were warm and dry, unlike hers. He traced the lines on her palm with surprising gentleness.

"You've got a really deep heart line," he said softly. "Like, you feel everything. But your head line is crazy strong too. You overthink everything, don't you?"

Maya's breath hitched. Because since when did Orion —the human sphinx who'd been in their school for two months— know she spent every night spiraling about whether she was authentic or just really good at faking it?

"You're performing for an audience that isn't even watching," Orion continued, still studying her palm like it held the answers to the universe. "You think you need to be different than you are. But you're already interesting."

"Since when do you know me?" Maya tried to make it sound like a joke, but her voice cracked.

"I watch people," Orion said, finally looking up. His eyes were seriously intense. "You're always noticing everyone else's details. But you never let anyone notice yours."

Something cracked open in Maya's chest. Maybe it was the humidity, maybe it was the randomest palm reading in history, or maybe it was just that someone actually saw her.

"I could teach you," she heard herself say. "I mean, I read palms too. My aunt showed me last summer."

Orion smiled —a real one, crinkles by his eyes and everything. "Deal. But only if you stop pretending you don't care about anything."

Maya looked back at the party, the swimming juniors, the fake Instagram happiness, the whole carefully constructed social hierarchy that had exhausted her for years.

"Deal," she said.

And for the first time since she could remember, her palms weren't sweating anymore.