The Lines Between Us

My hair looked like a small angry animal had attacked it. That was Maya's assessment anyway, as she stood behind me in her bathroom, holding scissors like she was about to perform surgery.

"Dude, trust me," she said, chewing gum with her mouth open. "I've watched like fifty YouTube tutorials. I'm basically a pro."

"That's literally the most reassuring thing you've ever said," I deadpanned, staring at my reflection. The version of me with uneven bangs stared back, looking equally unimpressed.

Tonight was Jordan's party—THE party. The one everyone would be talking about on Monday. The one where Tyler would definitely be there, and where I would definitely not say anything cool or interesting because I never did. My palms were already sweating just thinking about it.

Maya started trimming, her tongue sticking out in concentration. "So what's the plan with Tyler? You gonna finally talk to him?"

"I don't know," I mumbled. "Every time I try, my brain decides to take a vacation and my mouth just makes weird sounds."

"Let me see your hand," Maya demanded, setting down the scissors.

"Why?"

"Palm reading, duh. I learned from this girl on TikTok. She's, like, *actually* psychic." She grabbed my hand and spread my fingers across her bathroom counter, which still had toothpaste splatters from the morning. "Okay, so this line means you're gonna live forever, obviously. And this one..." She traced a line with her purple manicured fingernail. "This one says you're gonna talk to Tyler tonight."

"You're making that up."

"Okay but what if I'm not?" She met my eyes in the mirror. "What if this is, like, the universe telling you to just go for it?"

My hair actually looked decent. Maya had somehow fixed the disaster. But it was the way she looked at me—like she believed in something bigger than bad haircuts and sweaty palms and parties that felt like life-or-death situations when you were fifteen.

"Fine," I said, grabbing my phone to check my reflection one more time. "But if this goes wrong, I'm telling everyone you're a fake psychic."

Maya laughed, tossing a hair tie at my head. "Deal. Now let's go before I change my mind and give you bangs."

Somehow, with my friend's confidence in my pocket and my hair not looking like a crime scene, the night didn't seem so scary anymore. Maybe Maya wasn't psychic. Maybe she was just exactly who I needed, exactly when I needed her. That was probably better anyway.