The Palm Reader's Fastball

My palm was sweating against my phone screen when Maya's text popped up: "coming over. bring the good snacks. emergency."

Three minutes later, she flopped onto my bed like she'd been emotionally punted there. Her dog Buster, a chaotic golden retriever mix, scrambled up after her and immediately began attacking my discarded socks.

"He's dead," Maya announced.

"Who?"

"My chances with Tyler. I literally died inside during gym today." She buried her face in my pillow. "I was trying to be chill and lean against the wall like a normal human being, but the cable for the projector was there, and I tripped. In front of everyone. Tyler definitely saw me faceplant."

I pulled my laptop open. "Okay, first of all, Tyler's not worth it if he judges you for tripping over a cable. Second, we need a distraction."

My grandma, who'd moved in three months ago when her apartment building got sold, knocked twice and pushed the door open. She was wearing her lucky baseball cap sideways.

"Grandson," she said, "your friend looks like she needs her palm read."

Maya sat up, wide-eyed. "You can read palms?"

"Grandma thinks she can," I said, but she was already grabbing Maya's hand, her fingers tracing the lines with practiced seriousness.

"You will meet a tall stranger," Grandma pronounced. "But first, you must face your fears. You have courage in your heart. This line here—" she pointed to Maya's life line "—it says you survive embarrassment and become stronger."

Maya was grinning now. "What about Tyler?"

"The cards—" Grandma paused "—the palm says his destiny is connected to baseball somehow. You must find a way to talk about baseball."

"I know nothing about baseball," Maya laughed. "But he's on the team, right?"

"Then that's your opening." Grandma nodded like this was wisdom passed down through generations. "Ask him to teach you. Boys love explaining things. It's a law of nature."

Buster chose that moment to steal my grandma's slippers and bolt from the room. We all cracked up, the weird tension of the day dissolving into chaos and laughter.

Two weeks later, Maya texted me: "asked tyler to explain baseball rules. he talked for 45 MINUTES. it worked."

Some friendships are written in the stars. Others are written in cable mishaps, questionable palm readings, and the way golden retrievers steal slippers at exactly the right moment.