Spirit Animals & Soda Cans

The house party reeked of cheap cologne and desperation. Maya clutched her red Solo cup like a lifeline, watching Jordan from across the room. He was laughing with his friends, that effortless laugh that made her stomach do somersaults. She'd been crushing on him since September, and tonight was supposed to be her chance.

Her best friend Chen suddenly grabbed her arm. "You gotta see this. There's literally a fortune teller in the bathroom."

"A what?"

"A **palm** reader! Some sophomore's aunt who's 'psychic.' Come on."

The bathroom line stretched down the hall, but somehow they wound up inside anyway. A woman with too much eyeliner and scarves draped everywhere sat on the closed toilet lid, holding people's hands. When it was Maya's turn, the woman traced the lines on her **palm** with manicured nails.

"You have an old soul," she intoned, voice dropping to something like seriousness. "But you're confused. Looking for direction."

Maya almost laughed. Yeah, no kidding. Try being a junior who still couldn't figure out who she was supposed to be.

"Your spirit animal is the **cat**," the woman continued. "Independent. Observant. But you need to learn to **palm**..." She paused, obviously flustered. "I mean, you need to learn to trust your instincts."

Chen snorted from the doorway.

"What about him?" Maya asked, pointing vaguely toward the living room where Jordan held court.

The woman squinted. "That one... hm. Complicated. He's got the **bear** in him. Protective, but he'll hibernate when things get real. And the **bull**—stubborn as hell once he makes up his mind. But there's something else too. The **dog**. Loyal to a fault, once you're in his circle."

Maya's heart did that stupid fluttery thing again. Loyal. Protective.

"But honey," the woman added, squeezing her hand, "don't mistake loyalty for love. And don't mistake a crush for your whole personality. You're more than who you like."

Something in her chest loosened. The woman was probably making it all up, but still. It hit different when someone said it out loud.

Later that night, Maya found Jordan on the porch, smoking and looking at stars. They talked for twenty minutes about nothing and everything. He was kind of funny, actually. Not perfect, but decent.

When he walked her to her car, she thought about kissing him. Instead, she said, "I'll see you at school."

"Yeah," he smiled. "See ya."

Driving home, windows down and music up, Maya realized something: she didn't need a spirit animal reading to tell her who she was. She was the girl who knew what she wanted—and what she didn't. And that was enough.

Her **cat** would be waiting at home. And tomorrow? Tomorrow she'd figure out the rest.