Sweaty Palms at Sunset

My palms were practically leaking as I stood at the edge of Jensen's pool, clutching my red solo cup like it was a lifeline. The party was already in full swing — someone had blasted Doja Cat so loud the water vibrated, and half the junior class was already in the pool, laughing and splashing like they didn't have a collective care in the world.

I wasn't swimming. Obviously.

"You coming in or what?"

I flinched. Maya. Of course she'd notice me standing here like a total loser, looking like I was contemplating the meaning of life instead of just, you know, getting wet.

"Um," I said eloquently. My brain had short-circuited. "Maybe later?"

She tilted her head, droplets sliding down her collarbone. "You've been saying 'maybe later' since seventh grade, Chloe."

Burn.

The truth was, I'd been working on my backstory all summer. Operation: Stop Being Invisible. I'd even gotten this vintage fox tee from a thrift store — said "what does the fox say" on it in that weirdly cringe font from 2013. Wearing it was either going to make me ironically cool or just, like, actually cringe. I still wasn't sure which.

But then Tyler Jensen — actual Tyler, whose dad owned that dealership with the annoying commercials — cannonballed into the water, sending a wave right over my sandals. He surfaced, grinning like he'd just discovered America.

"Yo! Fox girl! You gonna stand there looking mad suspect or what?"

Everyone was looking. Why was everyone looking?

"I'm good," I managed, but then Maya literally grabbed my hand.

"No you're not. You're doing that thing where you overthink everything until you talk yourself out of living your actual life." She pulled me toward the water. "Besides, I heard you can read palms."

"What? No, that's —"

"Prove it."

So there I was, standing waist-deep in the pool, holding Tyler Jensen's actual palm while thirty people watched. The water felt like bathwater, warm and weirdly intimate. I could feel my face doing something terrible.

"Okay," I said, channeling every intuitive thought I'd ever had. "You're going to bear the weight of expectations, but like, in a cool way? Also, you're definitely failing calc."

He stared. Then he literally died laughing, and so did everyone else, and somehow — somehow — I wasn't the butt of the joke. For once.

Later, floating on my back and watching the palm trees silhouette against a purple sunset, I realized something obvious: nobody was watching me as hard as I'd been watching myself. The water held me up. The fox shirt was still cringe, but whatever. Sometimes you just have to dive in.