Riddles in the Palm of My Hand

Maya stared at the gummy **vitamin** on her tongue—strawberry-kale fusion, gross but necessary according to her TikTok feed. Her mom swore they'd make her **hair** grow three inches by homecoming, but so far, the only thing growing was her impatience.

"You ready?" Kenji called from downstairs. Their first hang. Not a date. Definitely not a date.

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could practically water plants with them. She grabbed her phone to check his last text again—still the same cryptic message from last night: *look for the bear 🐻*

What did that even mean? Was Kenji speaking in **sphinx**-level riddles now? He was the quiet type, but this was next-level mysterious.

She found him by the oak tree in the park, wearing that oversized black hoodie she'd seen him in every day since seventh grade. His hair was messier than usual.

"Hey," he said. Then nothing else. The silence stretched like the world's most awkward rubber band.

Maya's brain was screaming *say something cool* but her mouth had other plans. "So. The **bear** situation."

Kenji actually laughed. "Right. Follow me."

They walked past the playground where Maya had wiped out on the swings in fourth grade, past the tennis courts where she'd failed gym class spectacularly. She kept shoving her hands in her pockets because her palms were still freaking Niagara Falls.

He stopped at the old wooden structure behind the community center—the one nobody used anymore. Carved into one of the beams, barely visible under years of weather and someone's attempted Sharpie vandalism, was a tiny bear.

"My grandpa carved it," Kenji said softly. "Before he got sick. I come here when I want to feel close to him."

Maya's chest did this weird squeeze thing. "Why show me?"

Kenji shrugged, looking at his shoes. "I don't know. You just seem like you'd get it. Like you notice things other people don't."

The sun caught in her hair—the hair she'd been stressing over for weeks—and suddenly the vitamins didn't matter. The awkwardness dissolved into something else, something warmer.

"I do notice," she said. And she reached out, her palm finally dry, and took his hand.

Neither of them said anything else. They didn't have to. The bear beam witnessed it all.