The Digital Palm Reader

Jordan's phone buzzed against the cafeteria table. Again.

"She's watching your story again," Tae said, not looking up from his own phone. "Third time today."

Jordan's palm went sweaty against the device. "Maybe she just... keeps checking."

"Bro, she's literally your ex-best friend who hasn't spoken to you since the group chat incident in September. That's not normal checking. That's spy behavior." Tae finally looked up, eyebrows raised. "You need to block her."

Jordan stared at Maya's username at the top of his story views. They'd been inseparable since seventh grade, until Jordan had finally confronted Maya about constantly mocking their friendgroup's inside jokes in front of her new theater friends. The fight had exploded across three separate group chats. Now, months later, Maya still watched everything Jordan posted but never reached out.

"I don't know," Jordan said. "Maybe she wants to apologize."

"Or maybe she's waiting for you to mess up so she can screenshot it and send it to everyone with the caption 'look who's embarrassing themselves now.'" Tae gestured with his french fry. "Some people don't know how to just be normal. They'd rather hover than actually fix things."

The reminder stung because Jordan had done the exact same thing—watching Maya's stories, wondering if she was hurting too, if she missed their midnight study sessions and shared Spotify playlists. The digital palm reading of someone's life through their posts, trying to predict their future from fifteen-second clips.

That afternoon, Jordan finally did it. Blocked Maya's account. Deleted her contact. The teen anxiety of maybe they'll reach out vs. maybe they won't—gone. The fear of missing out replaced by something else: peace.

Two days later, Jordan sat in AP Chem when a folded note landed on their desk. Actual paper. Old school.

"I'm sorry," it read in Maya's familiar looping handwriting. "I didn't know how to fix it. I thought watching your stories was like... keeping up. But Tae told me I was being creepy. Can we get boba after school?"

Jordan looked across the room. Maya was already watching, offering a small, genuine smile. Not spy behavior. Just friend behavior, done badly.

Jordan smiled back and wrote "Fine but you're paying" on the note, sliding it back across the aisle. Sometimes you have to let go of the digital palm reading and actually talk to people.