The Palm Reading of Friendship

Maya pulled her beanie **hat** lower, the brim hiding her forehead as she stood outside the gym. The first day of sophomore year, and she was already calculating the exact distance between herself and the cool kids' table.

"Hey, you're Maya, right?" A girl with streaks of blue in her hair appeared beside her. "I'm Riley. That's such a cute **hat**."

Maya's internal monologue froze. This wasn't supposed to happen. The social hierarchy at Northwood High was as rigid as the dress code, and Riley was firmly planted in the "everyone knows her" tier.

"Thanks," Maya managed, her voice doing that embarrassing crack thing.

Riley leaned against the lockers. "So, I heard you read palms? Is that actually real or just whole vibe thing?"

The rumor mill had officially reached peak efficiency. Maya's palm-reading phase had lasted exactly one summer between seventh and eighth grade, when she'd gone through a witchy aesthetic after watching too much supernatural content. Now it was following her like a cursed emoji.

"I mean, I used to," Maya said. "But it's mostly just cold reading. You tell people what they want to hear."

"Show me," Riley insisted, holding out her hand.

Maya hesitated. But something about Riley's expectant smile made her extend her own hand. She traced the lines on Riley's **palm**, pretending to see things she didn't actually see.

"You're... " Maya paused. "You're worried people only like the version of you that's always happy and supportive. You're afraid if you show what's actually going on, they'll realize you're not as perfect as they think."

Riley's smile faltered for a microsecond. Then she laughed. "Wow. You're actually scary good at this."

"That's what everyone says," Maya said quietly. "But it's just observation. Anyone could do it."

"Maybe," Riley said, studying her own palm. "Or maybe you actually pay attention. That's rare."

The bell rang. Students flooded the hallway, and for a moment, Maya thought Riley would drift away to her actual friends.

"Hey," Riley said. "You should come to my table at lunch. We're doing this whole thing where we question if the school's existence is a simulation. It's lowkey hilarious."

Maya's stomach did that thing where it felt like it was both full of butterflies and completely empty at the same time. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm not exactly-"

"A **friend**?" Riley raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure that's how it works, Maya. You show up, you sit down, we talk about how capitalism ruined everything. It's not that deep."

As Riley walked away, Maya touched her hat's brim. Maybe sophomore year wouldn't be about surviving after all. Maybe it would be about finally starting to live.