The Palm Reader's Prophecy

I stood against the wall at Maya's birthday party, nursing a flat soda and feeling like I was participating in a social experiment where everyone else got the instructions except me. The room was packed with juniors and seniors I'd gone to school with for years but never actually spoken to.

Then I saw him—Liam Chen—standing by the refreshment table, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. I'd been low-key spying on him from across the cafeteria since September, which sounds creepy when I say it out loud, but in my head it was just... observation. Scientific curiosity.

His hands were jammed in his pockets, which I recognized because I do the same thing when my palms get sweat-drenched nervous. We were both doing that thing where you pretend to be busy with something to avoid looking awkward.

"Hey!" My best friend Sophie materialized beside me, practically vibrating with energy. "You have to get your palm read. This junior transfer student, Cassie, apparently she's, like, actually good at it."

"Soph, palm reading is literally just cold reading plus confirmation bias," I said, because saying intelligent things is my defense mechanism.

"Just do it. I dare you."

Fine. Whatever. I let her drag me across the room to where Cassie sat cross-legged on a beanbag chair, holding someone's hand and squinting like she was decoding alien messages.

When it was my turn, Cassie traced the lines on my palm with surprising gentleness. "You're worried about something big," she said. "A choice you need to make."

I almost laughed. My biggest choice right now was whether to finally talk to Liam or continue my career as a background extra in my own life.

"Someone's watching you," she continued, and my stomach did that embarrassing flutter thing. "But you're also watching someone else. It's like... you're both spies, but neither one knows the other is looking."

Then she pulled a small plastic bag from her pocket—inside was a single goldfish cracker. "Take this. It's your sign. Be brave like the fish that thinks it's a shark."

A goldfish cracker. As a prophecy. I took it anyway because sometimes you just go with the cosmic weirdness.

That's when I looked up and caught Liam's gaze across the room. He smiled—a tiny, nervous thing—and my palms suddenly felt volcanic. Sophie shoved me forward with the subtlety of a cannon blast.

"GO," she hissed.

So I went. And when I finally made it to the refreshment table, Liam said, "Hey, are you the one who got the goldfish prophecy? Because I got told to take this." He held out a Flintstones vitamin. "Cassie said it means I need to grow a spine and ask you to hang out sometime."

I laughed so hard I almost choked on my goldfish cracker.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, and the way his eyes were bright with hope made something warm bloom in my chest.

"That," I said, "is an absolutely yes."

Later that night, I ate the goldfish cracker anyway. Sometimes the universe speaks in snack foods, and you just have to listen.