The Palm Reader's Prophecy

Maya's palms were sweating—like, actually dripping— as she clutched the crumpled dollar bill in her hand. The summer carnival spun around her in a blur of neon lights and sugary smells, but she was zeroed in on the purple tent with the gold stars.

"You want your palm read?" The woman inside had what looked like half the accessories aisle at Claire's hanging from her neck. Her eyes were rimmed with sparkly blue shadow.

Maya nodded, sliding into the folding chair. Her best friend since kindergarten, Chloe, had bailed on tonight. Again. Apparently "hanging with the cool crowd" meant ditching your actual friend for people who'd been mean to her last week.

"Interesting," the palm reader said, tracing lines across Maya's hand. "You're at a crossroads, sweetie. Someone's wearing a mask... and I don't mean for Halloween." She tapped Maya's palm. "This person's hiding something big. And you—you're holding onto something that isn't yours."

Maya's stomach dropped. She was literally wearing Chloe's favorite vintage bucket hat—the one Chloe had loaned her freshman year and never asked for back. Until last week, when she'd casually mentioned it "looked better on Maya anyway." Nice. Code for "I'm upgrading my friend group."

The tent flap rustled. Someone ducked inside, knocking a strand of twinkly lights askew.

"Sorry!" It was some guy from Maya's English class. What was his name? Jason? Jordan? He was wearing the absolute worst fedora she'd ever seen.

"You here for a reading too?" Maya asked, then immediately cringed. Why was she talking to random fedora guys?

"Nah, my sister made me come." He dropped into the chair next to hers. "I'm Jace, by the way. We read Lord of the Flies together."

They talked for twenty minutes. About English, about how overrated carnivals were, about how Chloe's new friend group had tried to get him to vape behind the gym last week and he'd said no.

"She's not herself lately," Jace said. "None of them are."

Maya looked at Chloe's hat sitting on her knee. The palm reader's words echoed in her head: *holding onto something that isn't yours.*

"Hey," she said. "You want to see something genuinely cursed?"

She pulled the bucket hat off her knee and plopped it on Jace's head. It looked ridiculous. They both cracked up.

"Okay," Jace said, adjusting the brim, "we need to find you a hat that's actually yours. Maybe something from this century?"

Maya smiled so wide her face hurt. Her palms were dry for the first time all night. Chloe could keep her new crowd. Maya was going to make her own.