The Palm Reader's Dilemma

Maya pressed her **palm** against the cool cafeteria table, studying the lifeline like it held the secrets to surviving sophomore year. Around her, the **baseball** team laughed at their usual table, jerseys bright against the beige walls. She adjusted her beanie **hat**, pulling it lower over her forehead. Her cover.

"You're doing it again," said Jamal, sliding onto the bench across from her. "The spy thing."

"I'm not spying," Maya protested, though her eyes had definitely drifted toward Tyler, the pitcher with the easy grin who somehow made calculus look like a suggestion rather than a requirement. "I'm conducting social research."

"Right. Because that's totally normal." Jamal smirked. "You know, my cousin says you should just talk to him. Like a regular person."

Maya scoffed. "Regular people don't overthink every single interaction until their brain feels like scrambled eggs. Besides, he's out of my league. He's basically a walking **sphinx**—all mysterious and perfect and riddle-like."

"You do realize the sphinx was a monster that ate people who couldn't solve its riddles?"

"Your point?"

Jamal shook his head. "You're impossible."

The next day, everything changed. Maya was bent over her locker when a shadow fell across her. She looked up into Tyler's hazel eyes. Up close, he wasn't a sphinx at all. He had a tiny freckle on his nose and his smile was kinda crooked.

"Hey," he said. "I noticed you watching practice yesterday."

Maya's face burned. "Oh my god, I was just—"

"Wondering why I kept missing that curveball?" He grinned. "Me too. Want to help me figure it out?"

She blinked. "You want MY help?"

"You seem to notice everything," he said, shrugging. "Besides, my pitching coach says I'm too much in my head. Maybe you can spy on my mechanics and tell me what I'm doing wrong."

Later, as they sat in the bleachers, Tyler absentmindedly twisting his baseball cap in his hands, Maya realized something important. The lifeline on her palm might not hold the future, but sometimes—just sometimes—the universe gave you a break.

"Your problem," she said, pointing at his elbow, "is you're thinking too hard. Just throw."

He threw a perfect strike ten minutes later.

"You're kind of amazing," he said.

Maya smiled, finally pulling off her hat. "I know."