Saltwater Truths

Maya's palms were sweating. Literally. Which was ironic considering she was the one supposedly reading *other* people's palms for twenty bucks a pop on the Venice Beach boardwalk.

"You're gonna meet someone tall, dark, and mysterious," she said, barely glancing at the bewildered tourist's hand. "Probably before finals week."

The tourist handed over a crumpled twenty and walked away, seemingly satisfied. Maya slipped the cash into her pocket, fighting the urge to roll her at her own hustle. She wasn't psychic — she was just a sixteen-year-old who needed money to replace the phone she'd dropped in a *pool* three weeks ago. The universe had a weird sense of humor.

Then she saw HER.

Jordan. Her former best friend. The one who'd ghosted her sophomore year to join the "it" crowd, the one who now sat at the popular lunch table looking straight through Maya like she was transparent. The one Maya had spent months crying over when she thought no one was watching.

Jordan was walking toward her booth, and Maya's stomach did that thing where it felt like she'd swallowed a dozen butterflies.

"Hey," Jordan said, rocking on her heels. "I heard you're doing readings now."

"Yeah," Maya managed. "It's dumb, I know."

"Can I get one?"

Maya almost laughed. This girl who had everything — the perfect hair, the perfect friends, the perfect life — wanted HER fake wisdom?

"Sure. Twenty bucks."

Jordan placed her hand on the table, and Maya actually looked at it for the first time. She traced the lines automatically, making up some nonsense about love and career choices until suddenly a massive golden retriever came barreling out of nowhere, knocking over Maya's crystal ball (a plastic prop from Amazon) and sending Jordan's favorite iced coffee flying.

"Charlie!" Some guy yelled, chasing after the dog. "Sorry! He's obsessed with —"

And then, in the chaos, as they both scrambled to save Jordan's bag from becoming coffee-soaked collateral damage, they started laughing. Really laughing. The kind that makes your abs hurt and your eyes water.

"I missed you," Jordan said suddenly, the words hanging between them like something fragile and important.

"You're the one who left," Maya said, before she could stop herself.

"I know," Jordan whispered. "I was scared, okay? scared of being the weird kids forever. scared of growing up and it not being enough."

The ocean behind them roared, and in that moment, Maya realized something: they were both just pretending. Jordan pretending to have it all together, Maya pretending she could see the future when she could barely handle her own present.

"I dropped my phone in a pool," Maya blurted out. "That's why I'm doing this. That's my big mysterious life tragedy."

Jordan snorted. "I failed my driver's test three times. My parents still drive me to practice."

They sat there on the boardwalk, sticky with spilled coffee and salt air, while the chaotic dog's owner finally caught Charlie and apologized profusely. Neither of them moved.

"Want to get boba?" Jordan asked. "My treat. Since I ruined your setup."

Maya looked at her friend — really looked at her — and saw the same scared kid she'd met in seventh grade, wearing a more expensive outfit.

"Only if you let me read your palm for real this time," Maya said. "No charge."