The Palm Reader's Strikeout

Jake's palms were sweating. Like, actually dripping. Which was ironic considering what was about to happen.

"You're up," said Maya, tapping her phone against her palm like a microphone. She'd set up shop in the corner of Tyler's basement party, charging three bucks to read fortunes. Business was booming.

Jake shuffled forward, baseball cap pulled low. He'd been crushing on Maya since seventh period English, when she'd dissed the Sphinx documentary they were forced to watch with something about how ancient riddles had nothing on modern dating codes. He'd laughed. She'd noticed. Progress.

"Your hands are huge," Maya noted, actually professional for once. She traced the lines on his palm with one manicured fingernail. "You play baseball?"

"Left field. I'm, uh, I'm starting tomorrow. Varsity finally called me up."

Her eyes widened. "Jake, that's huge! congrats!" Then she frowned at his hand. "But your life line... it's kinda messed up here. Like there's something blocking it."

His stomach did that thing it always did when she was near. "What's that mean?"

"Drama. Boys always have drama." She flipped his hand over. "But your head line is straight as hell. You know what you want. And your heart line..." She looked up, smirking. "It curves toward your fingers. You wear it on your sleeve. Literally."

Jake felt his face burning. "Is that good or bad?"

"Depends." Maya dropped his hand but didn't pull away. "You going to the game tonight?"

"Baseball practice ends at seven, but—"

"No, dummy. The game at the fair. They've got that sphinx replica thing at the entrance. Everyone's gonna try to take pics with it for Insta. Supposedly if you touch its paw and make a wish, it actually comes true. My friend Sarah swear it worked for her."

Jake snorted. "You don't believe that."

"No." Maya's voice went soft. "But sometimes it's fun to pretend."

She checked her phone. "Look, your heart line says you're about to do something brave. Your head line says you won't overthink it. And your palm..." She took his hand again, interlacing their fingers. "It says you're not gonna let me go to the fair alone."

Jake's heart was hammering. But he didn't pull away.

"I won't," he said.

Maya grinned, the same smirk from English class. "Good. Because that sphinx statue isn't gonna know what hit it."

Later, Jake would remember two things: that he struck out in practice the next day, and that the sphinx at the fair was definitely just plaster and paint. But holding Maya's hand under the fluorescent lights of Tyler's basement, watching her finally look at him like he was someone worth noticing? That was something even ancient prophecies couldn't predict.