The Palm Reader's Dilemma

I spent the entire summer **running** from my best friend's texts. Which sounds terrible, I know, but Jenna had discovered she was psychic at summer camp and was now offering free palm readings during lunch. The problem wasn't that I didn't believe her—I didn't, but that wasn't the point. The problem was that my **palm** apparently held the future, and I wasn't ready to hear what it had to say about me and Connor from chem lab.

"You're being dramatic," Jenna said, sliding onto the bench beside me. She adjusted her dad's old **baseball** cap—she'd been wearing it every day since she got back, said it helped channel the universal energies. I personally thought it just made her look like she was about to ask if we wanted fries with that, but I kept that to myself.

"You literally told me you saw marriage in my future," I said. "Jenna, I'm fifteen. I can barely decide what to order at Starbucks."

"Okay but CONNOR," she said, like that explained everything. "He looked at you during lab yesterday. My sources say he's going to ask you to homecoming."

"Your sources are your psychic grandmother who lives in Florida and also believes crystals can cure strep throat."

Jenna gasped. "Don't disrespect Gammy's wisdom just because you're emotionally closed off."

The truth was, I wanted to know. I really, really did. Connor was cute and funny and had that perfect messy hair that looked effortless but definitely took twenty minutes. But also, what if Jenna was wrong? What if she read my **palm** and saw... nothing? What if my future was empty space and unrequited crushes and forever being the person who happened at other people?

"Fine," I said. "Read it. But if you tell me I'm going to marry Connor and then he asks Sarah to homecoming instead, I'm never speaking to you again."

Jenna grinned and grabbed my hand. Her face went serious, like she was solving complex math instead of making things up based on my sweaty teenage hand. She traced a line across my palm, hmm-ing dramatically.

"Well?"

"Okay so," she said, "I see... a lot of... very strong energy around... not making decisions yet? And also you should probably text Connor first because he's literally more nervous than you are?"

"You're making that up."

"Maybe," she said, sliding the **baseball** cap lower over her eyes. "But wouldn't it be cooler if I wasn't?"

I pulled out my phone. Connor had posted a story—an unflattering selfie with the caption 'lab partner who actually does work hmu.' I typed out a text before I could overthink it.

"So?" Jenna asked.

"He replied immediately."

"TOLD YOU," she said. "Also Gammy says you owe me five dollars."

"She's not even here!"

"She's everywhere," Jenna said mysteriously. "Now about my psychic business venture—I'm thinking of charging starting next week."

Some things, I thought, watching Connor's typing bubble appear and disappear and appear again, you didn't need psychic powers to see coming.