The Palm Reader's Truth

Maya's palms were sweating—like, actually dripping—so she shoved them in her pockets before Connor could notice. They were sitting on her driveway's asphalt, waiting for her mom to leave for her shift. That's when it would happen: the party Maya had been low-key stressing about for two weeks straight.

"Your lifeline's super long," said Avery, appearing behind them like the ghost of friendships past. She grabbed Maya's wrist, studied her palm like it held the answers to tomorrow's chem exam. "You're gonna live forever. Or at least until finals."

Connor laughed, and Maya felt that thing in her chest—the flutter that was equal parts amazing and absolute torture. This was it. Her chance.

Then her mom's car finally backed out. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" she called through the open window.

The house filled up fast. Someone brought a speaker. Someone else brought whatever cheap stuff they'd swiped from their parents' liquor cabinet. Maya positioned herself near the food table because that's what you did when you were terrified and also hoping your crush would spontaneously decide to talk to you.

He didn't.

Instead, she found herself on the back porch with Jax, who was two years older and had that whole mysterious thing going on. He was leaning against the railing, looking annoyingly comfortable.

"You're the new girl, right?"

"Been here six months, but yeah."

"Fresh meat."

"Gross."

He laughed, and it wasn't terrible. "My cousin's obsessed with you, by the way."

"Who?"

"Connor. He talks about you constantly. It's honestly kinda pathetic." Then Jax's expression shifted, like he realized he'd said too much. "Forget I said that."

Maya's heart did something complicated. Connor talked about her? Constantly?

Inside, the party was getting loud. Someone shouted something about a dare. Then came the screaming—laughter at first, then something sharper.

She followed everyone into the backyard. There, under the moonlight, was a fox. A real one, just standing there, watching them like it had questions about their life choices too.

"Is it—" someone started.

"Rabid?" finished someone else.

The fox tilted its head. Then it bolted, gone as fast as it had appeared.

"Anyone else feel like that was a sign?" Maya heard herself say.

Connor appeared beside her. His eyes found hers in the dark. "What kind of sign?"

"Dunno. Just... we're all freaking out about everything, and that fox was just living its best life."

Connor smiled, and wow, it was even better up close. "You're weird."

"Thanks."

"No, I mean—" He stepped closer. "I like it."

Her palms weren't sweating anymore.

"Your mom's a palm reader, right?" he asked.

"No, that was Avery making stuff up."

"Oh. Good." He took her hand. "Because I was worried she'd see how this ends and spoil it."

"How what ends?"

He didn't answer. Just leaned in.

The fox watching from the treeline? Maya decided to bear that particular detail witness: sometimes, you don't need to read palms to know exactly what's coming next.