The Palm Reader's Prophecy

Maya stared at her sweaty palm, wondering if it was actually nervousness or just the ninety-degree heat of the spring carnival. She'd been voluntold to work the fortune-telling booth as a fundraiser for the debate team, which basically meant sitting in a tent wearing a ridiculous purple velvet hat with plastic stars hanging off it while people paid two dollars to have her make up their future.

"You're next," Maya called out, trying to sound mystical and failing.

Jake slid into the folding chair opposite her. Jake, who sat at the apex of the sophomore pyramid—varsity lacrosse, seemingly perfect hair, the kind of guy who existed in a completely different social stratosphere. Maya felt her heart do that annoying fluttery thing.

"Read my palm," he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

She took his hand. His palm was warm, calloused from lacrosse. She had no idea what she was doing, but she'd spent the entire week watching palm reading videos on YouTube at 2 AM.

"Your lifeline is... really long," she improvised. "You're going to live forever. Or at least until you're like, ninety."

Jake laughed, and it was genuine, not that fake polite laugh popular kids gave everyone else. "What else? Am I gonna be rich? Famous?"

Maya traced a line on his hand. "You're going to do something unexpected. Something nobody thinks you will."

Jake looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since seventh grade. "Like what?"

"Like..." Maya swallowed. "Like quitting lacrosse to join the debate team."

For a second, she thought she'd messed up. But then Jake's face broke into this huge grin, the kind that made something shift in Maya's chest.

"I was actually going to ask you about that," he said. "I've been wanting to quit for months. My dad would lose it, though."

"So quit," Maya said. "You're literally at the top of the pyramid, Jake. You can do whatever you want."

He stared at his palm, then back at her. "You're wearing a hat with plastic stars."

"I know. It's humiliating."

"It's kind of awesome, though," Jake said. "Nobody else would wear it and not care what people think."

Maya felt something warm spread through her chest. "I care. I just... I care about other things more."

"Like what?"

"Like being honest. Even when it's weird."

Jake nodded slowly, like she'd just told him something profound. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "What time is debate club meeting tomorrow?"

Maya grinned. "3:15. Room 207. But you gotta bring your own snacks."

"Deal." He stood up, then paused. "Hey, Maya?"

"Yeah?"

"Your prediction. About me doing something unexpected. I think it already happened."

He walked away, and Maya sat there in her purple velvet hat with the plastic stars, watching him go, her palm still tingling from where she'd held his hand. Sometimes the universe didn't give you signs. Sometimes you just had to make your own magic.