The Dog Who Read Palms
Maya's palms were sweating so much she could practically water plants with them. First day at Northwood High, and she'd already managed to trip over her own feet in front of what had to be the entire freshman class. Smooth. Real smooth.
"You good?" A girl with teal-streaked hair extended a hand. "I'm Zara."
"Maya." She wiped her palms on her jeans—again. "Just getting familiar with the floor. You know, quality control."
Zara laughed. "Same. I once fell UP the stairs during spirit week. Viral on TikTok and everything."
Before Maya could respond to this golden gift of social currency, something barrelled into her legs.
A dog. A very large, very confused-looking golden retriever wearing a stolen hot dog bun like a crown.
"DUDE!" Zara scrambled after the escapee. "That's Mr. Henderson's dog! He's gonna lose it if Buster gets loose again."
The dog—Buster, apparently—decided Maya was his new best friend. He sat directly on her feet and gazed up with zero respect for personal boundaries. His nose nudged her hand, and when she pulled away, he whined like she'd personally betrayed him.
"Is he... reading my palm?" Maya cracked, trying to play it cool even as her heart did that flail thing it did when attention landed on her.
"Dude." Zara stared. "He literally has not approached anyone since Mrs. Henderson died. Like, he's been basically emo-dogging it in their backyard for months."
Buster rested his head on Maya's knee like they'd known each other for years. Her anxiety somehow didn't spiral. Maybe it was the ridiculous hot dog bun still perched on his head. Maybe it was Zara's genuine shock. Or maybe—just maybe—this was the universe's weird way of saying she'd found her people.
"We should probably get him home before he starts a podcast," Maya said, scratching behind his ears.
"Oh my god, yes." Zara pulled out her phone. "We're definitely taking a selfie first though. This is friendship origin story material."
Maya's palms were still sweating, but for the first time all day, she didn't wipe them.