The Fortune Teller's Secret

Maya's sweaty palms were giving her away. Again.

"Let me see your hand," she told Liam, trying to sound like she'd been doing this forever instead of, like, three days. The cafeteria noise swirled around them — laughter, shouting, the thud of backpacks hitting tables. Maya felt like she was performing surgery without training.

Liam extended his hand. Maya pretended to study the lines, but really she was **running** through the fake script she'd memorized from a YouTube video at 2 AM. Something about life lines and heart lines and whatever.

"You're gonna meet someone special," she said, hoping she sounded mystical instead of desperate. "Soon."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "That's it? That's your whole vibe?"

Behind him, Chloe watched with sharp eyes. Maya's stomach did that thing it always did when Chloe was nearby — like someone was squeezing it, but also like she wanted Chloe to squeeze it, and wow, she needed to get it together.

The bell rang. Saved by the actual bell.

Maya escaped to her spot behind the school, where the stray **cat** — she called him Midnight — waited for her like they had an appointment. He bumped his head against her shin, purring like a tiny engine.

"You're the only one who gets me," she whispered, sinking into the grass. "Everyone thinks I'm this cool fortune teller girl, but really I'm just... faking it."

Midnight yawned, unimpressed.

That afternoon, Maya tried something different. She pulled her **hair** back into a slick ponytail, swapped her usual hoodie for a vintage blazer she'd thrifted. New look, new Maya. Someone who didn't have to pretend to read palms to get people to talk to her.

But when she walked into the coffee shop where everyone hung out, she saw Chloe sitting alone in the corner booth. Chloe was staring at her own hands, turning them over and over like she was reading something no one else could see.

Their eyes met. Maya almost looked away — but then she didn't.

Chloe's face did this thing where it softened, like she'd been caught doing something private but wasn't mad about it. She patted the seat across from her.

Maya sat down, her heart hammering. "What are you looking at?"

Chloe held up her palm. Lines crossing everywhere, chaotic and beautiful. "I was hoping you'd tell me."

Something shifted between them — something real.

"I don't actually know how to do this," Maya admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've been making it up."

Chloe smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made Maya feel like she'd been **running** toward something important without even knowing it. "Figured. That's kinda why I wanted you to do mine."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only person who bothers to really look at people." Chloe tilted her head. "That's not nothing."

Outside, the cat — their cat now — paced along the windowsill like a tiny sentry. Maya placed her hand next to Chloe's on the table, palms up, both of them open and uncertain and ready for whatever came next.