The Palm Reader's Promise

Maya's palms were sweating, literally dripping, as she stared at the social pyramid of Jefferson High's pool party. Freshmans at the bottom, seniors at the top, and her somewhere in the messy middle trying not to embarrass herself.

"You're not gonna actually swim, are you?" Chloe whispered, flipping her perfect beach waves. "Your hair will frizz."

Maya touched her curls self-consciously. "Maybe."

That's when she saw the cat—a scrawny tabby crouching under the lounge chair where Tyler, the junior class president, sat holding court. Someone had clearly brought it as a joke, but the cat looked miserable.

Maya crouched down, offering her palm. The cat sniffed, then rubbed its cheek against her hand. "Hey there, little guy."

"That cat's weird," Tyler said, suddenly standing over her. "But you're cool for not freaking out."

They talked for twenty minutes about everything and nothing—about how much they both hated the social pyramid at school, about his secret obsession with ancient Egypt, about how he'd always wanted to visit the Great Pyramid but his parents thought it was too dangerous.

"My abuela reads palms," Maya found herself saying. "It's cheesy, but she taught me."

"Show me."

She traced the lines on his hand. "You're gonna do something big with your life. I can feel it."

He grinned. "Jump in with me?"

"What about my hair?"

"What about it?"

The water was cold, the cat watched from the edge, and Chloe stared in horror as Maya dove in fully clothed. Her hair frizzed into wild tendrils, her makeup ran, but for the first time, she didn't care. The pyramid had collapsed, and she was just swimming—freely, happily, herself.