The Fortune in Her Palm

Maya's mom said the carnival was just a cheesy school fundraiser, but to Maya, standing at the entrance with her hair frizzing in the humidity, it felt like the most important night of freshman year. The purple streak she'd spent two hours perfecting was already rebelling against the Florida heat.

She spotted him immediately. Lucas. Basketball jersey, that lopsided grin, looking unfairly good in the neon glow of the rides. Maya ducked behind the nearest concession stand, yanking her beanie **hat** down to cover her hair. Bad enough she had braces; she didn't need purple fuzz adding to the disaster.

"You know," a voice said, "hats inside are basically a beacon that says 'I'm hiding something.'"

Maya jumped. An elderly woman sat in a tiny booth draped in crushed velvet, a crystal ball on the table between them. THE MYSTICAL MADAME ZORA, read the handwritten sign.

"Sit," Madame Zora commanded. To Maya's horror, her feet obeyed. "You're hiding more than that **hair** under there, aren't you?"

How did she—

Zora's weathered hand shot out and grabbed Maya's wrist, turning her **palm** upward. "Interesting. Very interesting."

"You can tell my future?" Maya whispered, forgetting to pull away.

"Better." Zora's eyes twinkled. "I can tell you what you already know but refuse to believe." She traced a line on Maya's palm. "This here? That's not a fate line. That's the mark of someone who thinks she needs to disappear to be seen."

The air left Maya's lungs.

"Take off the **hat**, child."

"But my—"

"Your hair is purple because you wanted it to be. Bold choice. Courageous choice." Zora released her hand. "The hiding part? That's not you. That's what you think everyone wants."

From somewhere nearby, Maya heard Lucas laugh. Something shifted inside her, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

She pulled off the **hat**. Her purple hair sprang free, frizzy and imperfect and completely hers.

"Now go," Zora said, shooing her away. "The person you're waiting to meet has been here all along."

Maya walked toward Lucas, not running, not hiding. Her **palm** was still tingling where Zora had touched it, but for the first time all night, it wasn't from nerves.