The Palm Reader's Prophecy

Maya's palms were sweating — like, actually dripping onto her cutoffs — which was embarrassing because she was just supposed to be walking past Tyler's lunch table, not starring in some cringe rom-com montage.

"You good?" whispered Jenna, her best friend since sixth grade, when they reached the relative safety of the bathroom. "You look like you're about to pass out. Or throw up. Both?"

"I feel like a zombie," Maya groaned, splashing cold water on her face. "I got four hours of sleep because I was doom-scrolling his Insta until 3 AM like a total creep. I'm literally spying on his life from behind a screen while being too scared to say 'hey' in person. This is fine. Everything is fine."

Jenna rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "You're bearing the weight of literally nothing. He's just a guy, Maya. Not the Gilderoy Lockhart of our high school."

"Easy for you to say! You and Kai are practically TikTok official at this point."

That Friday night, the school's fall carnival brought all the usual vibes: overheated gymnasium, suspiciously warm punch, and a suspicious amount of glitter. Maya found herself at the makeshift palm reader's booth — obviously just Mrs. Gable from English class wearing way too much eyeliner — because Jenna literally pushed her toward it.

"Your hands tell stories," Mrs. Gable said, peering at Maya's palm through purple-tinted glasses. "You're carrying something heavy. Fear, maybe? Or... expectation?"

Maya's heart hammered. Was it that obvious?

"But here," the teacher continued, pointing to a line on her hand. "This means courage. You're closer than you think."

Later, amidst the chaos of the photo booth where a bunch of soccer guys were being absolute disasters, Tyler caught Maya's eye. Actually caught it — like, sustained eye contact that wasn't accidental or weird.

"Hey," he said, shouldering through the crowd. "You were in my government class last year, right?"

"Yeah," Maya managed, despite her brain short-circuiting. "I sat behind you."

"Right!" He laughed, and it was genuine and dorky in the best way. "I was going to say something, but you always looked like you were in spy mode or something. Super focused."

"Spy mode?"

"Yeah, like you were observing everything. It was cool. Intense, but cool."

They talked for twenty minutes while Jenna did terrible job of not aggressively watching from nearby. Tyler admitted he'd been wanting to talk to her since spring but didn't know how. Maya's palms stopped sweating somewhere around minute twelve.

The zombie feeling faded too — replaced by that terrifying, electric hum of something starting.

"Bear with me here," Tyler said, pulling out his phone. "But would you want to hang out sometime? Like, not at school?"

Maya grinned, thinking about palm readings and prophecies and how sometimes the universe actually delivered.

"Yeah," she said. "I'd like that."