The Palm Reader's Strikeout

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could barely grip her locker handle. Another Monday at Northwood High, another day at the bottom of the social pyramid. She'd spent all weekend binge-wisting The Bachelorette through her dad's bootleg cable connection, avoiding reality like it was a pop quiz she hadn't studied for.

"Hey, cable girl," someone sneered as she walked to third period. Maya ignored them, adjusting her oversized baseball cap — her dad's old Mets hat that smelled like cedar chips and bad decisions. It was her shield, her invisibility cloak, her way of saying "I don't care what you think" without actually having to say anything.

Then she saw him by the water fountain: Jason Chen, who sat at the very top of the popularity pyramid, looking nervous. His palms were literally sweating on the metal water fountain. Jason Chen, who was supposedly perfect, standing there looking like he might throw up.

Maya's brain short-circuited. She walked over, grabbed a handful of napkins from her bag, and said, "Here. I saw this TikTok about palm reading — supposedly, sweaty palms mean you're about to meet someone important. Or you're dehydrated. Probably both."

Jason stared at her, then laughed — this weird, surprised sound. "I was about to ask if you had any napkins. I'm trying out for the baseball team today and I'm freaking out."

"Baseball?" Maya raised an eyebrow. "You? The guy who got perfect attendance?"

"Exactly. Nobody knows I played since I was seven." Jason wiped his palms. "What about you? That cable setup at your house is legendary. Everyone knows you get every channel."

Maya blinked. Her social invisibility had just made her famous. "My dad's cousin works for the company. It's not that cool."

"It's actually super cool." Jason checked his watch. "Hey, after tryouts, you want to come watch? I might need a palm reader to predict my doom."

Something shifted in Maya's chest, warm and unfamiliar. She adjusted her baseball cap, grinned, and said, "Only if you promise not to strike out."

She walked to class with sweaty palms and a smile so wide her face hurt. The social pyramid could wait — she had a baseball game to attend.