The Palm Reader's Proposition

Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her jeans for the third time, eyeing the entrance of Jefferson High's annual spring festival like it was a lion's den.

"You're literally spiraling, Maya," said Jordan, flicking a piece of **spinach** from his braces. He'd insisted on getting the vegan wrap from the new food truck, which was currently betraying him. "It's just a fortune teller booth. For charity."

"Easy for you to say," Maya muttered, clutching her carefully crumpled five-dollar bill. "You're not the one who accidentally told the whole debate team you'd never had a boyfriend. Like, ever." The humiliation still burned fresh in her throat.

The booth was decorated with purple fabric and twinkling lights. A cardboard cutout of a **sphinx** leaned against the entrance, its painted smile weirdly knowing. Atop it sat a sign: MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE REVEALED. ALL PROCEEDS TO THE ANIMAL SHELTER.

"Next!" called Priya from inside the booth. She was wearing a sequined vest she'd definitely borrowed from her mom and way too much eyeliner.

Maya froze. This was stupid. She should bail. But then she'd have to walk past the debate team's table, and they'd definitely whisper. She ducked inside the tiny booth.

"Oh hey, Maya!" Priya whispered, dropping the mystical voice. "Wait, are you doing this because of what happened yesterday? Because honestly, nobody cares—"

"Just read my **palm** already," Maya said, defeated.

Priya squinted at Maya's hand, tapping her chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Hmm. Interesting. Very interesting."

"What? What do you see?"

"I see..." Priya paused dramatically. "Someone who needs to stop overthinking everything. Your life line is literally fine, Maya. You're sixteen, not eighty." She grinned. "Also, you have spinach in your teeth."

Maya's eyes widened. "Since when?!"

"Since lunch probably. Jordan mentioned it earlier but was too polite to say anything directly." Priya leaned in. "Here's the thing about prophecies—they only matter if you believe them. So here's mine: you're going to be okay. Not because the stars said so, but because you're genuinely cool when you're not stuck in your head."

Maya blinked. The suffocating knot in her chest loosened. "That's it? That's the prophecy?"

"That's it," Priya said, sliding a piece of paper across the table. It read: THIS CERTIFIES THAT MAYA CHEN IS GOING TO BE ABSOLUTELY FINE.

Outside, the festival noise swelled—laughter, music, the ridiculous sight of the debate team doing karaoke. Maya grinned, finally stepping out of the booth. She caught Jordan's eye and gave him a thumbs up.

Her palms weren't sweating anymore.