The Cat Who Read My Palm

Maya's palms were sweating. Like, actually sweating through her favorite thrifted dress as she clutched her phone. The party music thumped through Jordyn's house, and everywhere she looked, people were being effortlessly cool. Jordyn herself was in the center of the living room, surrounded by her usual squad, laughing at something that definitely wasn't that funny.

Maya's iPhone buzzed in her hand. Another notification she'd check just to look busy. Just to look like she had somewhere better to be, someone more important texting her. She swiped at the screen, but it was just her mom asking if she'd eaten dinner. Mortifying.

She slipped out the back door, needing air. The patio was quieter, mostly empty except for this calico cat curled up on a lounge chair like it owned the place. Maya approached slowly, and the cat stretched, yawned, and then did the weirdest thing — it batted at her hand with its paw, then held it there, pads pressing into her palm like it was checking her pulse.

"Weirdly intense, right?"

Maya jumped. A guy with messy dark hair and eyeliner that looked actually good leaned against the patio railing. She recognized him—Evan, from her AP English class. He was usually quiet, sitting in the back.

"Your cat just read my palm," Maya said, before she could overthink it.

Evan's eyebrows shot up. "Mrs. Whitman's cat? She's escaped, like, three times this week. But yeah, she's weirdly intuitive." He stepped closer. "Let me see."

Before she could process what was happening, Evan was gently holding her hand, his thumb brushing across her palm. Her heart did something stupid and fluttery. "You have a long life line," he murmured, "but see how it branches here? That means you're at a crossroads. Big decisions coming up."

Maya snorted. "That could apply to literally anyone."

"True." He grinned, and wow, he had nice smile lines. "But also, you have this tiny marking right here—" he pointed to a small crescent near her thumb "—that means you're secretly dramatic."

"Hey!"

"I'm joking." He didn't let go of her hand. "But seriously, you looked like you needed an escape. I get that. Parties can be... a lot."

Maya exhaled, shoulders dropping. "Yeah. Everyone's just so confident and I'm just... standing there checking my phone like something important might happen."

"Something important is happening." The cat rubbed against Evan's jeans. "We're escaping a mediocre party to have an actually interesting conversation. That counts."

Maya's phone buzzed again. She ignored it.

"So," Evan said, "what's your crossroads about?"

Maya looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time all night, her palms were dry. "Everything," she said. "College. Who I'm supposed to be. Whether I should even be at this party."

"That's a lot," he said softly. "But for the record? You should definitely be at this party. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Inside, someone shouted, "CAT! Mrs. Whitman's cat got out!"

Evan sighed. "Duty calls." But he pulled out his phone. "Let me get your number. For the cat. In case it escapes again."

Maya laughed as she typed her contact in. The situation was ridiculous. The cat was watching them with judging eyes. But as she headed back inside, iPhone buzzing in her pocket with a new text from Evan, she thought: maybe the crossroads weren't so scary after all.