The Palm Reader's Party

My phone died at 7:42 PM—literally the worst timing ever. Maya's sweet sixteen was in full swing, and I was standing by the snack table like a total loser, clutching my dead iPhone like it still had answers.

"You need a charger?" Jake appeared beside me, holding out a braided **cable** like it was a lifeline. "I've got this portable battery thing. My mom made me bring it, said I shouldn't be stranded."

"You're literally my hero," I said, plugging in. Jake's been my **friend** since sixth grade, when he accidentally threw a basketball at my head in gym class. We've been through everything—first crushes, failed algebra tests, the time his dog ate my science project.

But lately, I'd been catching him watching me with this weird look, like he was trying to **spy** into my brain or something. Whenever I'd turn around, he'd suddenly find his phone fascinating.

The party got weirder when Maya's cousin Luna set up a card table in the corner and announced she was doing palm readings for five bucks. Everyone was crowded around, laughing and making jokes about how fake it was.

"Your turn," Jake nudged me. "Go on. I'll pay."

I sat down, and Luna took my hand, tracing the lines on my **palm** with one manicured fingernail. "You're waiting for something," she said softly. "But you're so busy looking everywhere else that you can't see what's right in front of you."

I pulled my hand back, my heart suddenly racing. Was she talking about Jake? About the way he'd been acting lately?

Later that night, Jake and I ended up on the porch, away from the music and laughter. My phone was fully charged now, but I didn't care.

"So, palm readings, huh?" Jake said, kicking at a loose board on the porch. "Pretty crazy stuff."

"Yeah," I managed, my palms suddenly sweating again. "Crazy."

"Hey, can I tell you something?" Jake asked, looking at me with those intense dark eyes. "I've been trying to **bear** it inside forever, but I can't anymore."

"What?" My voice came out barely a whisper.

"That I—"

Inside, someone screamed that the cake was being cut, shattering the moment. We both jumped, laughing nervously.

"Later," Jake promised. "I'll tell you later."

But he didn't have to. As we walked back inside, his hand brushed mine, and I knew. I'd been looking everywhere else for months, but he'd been right there the whole time.