The Palm Reading Prophecy

Maya's third-period bathroom mirror sessions had become a daily ritual. Ever since the choppy haircut incident — she'd asked for layers, walked out looking like a poodle struck by lightning — her hair had been Enemy Number One. So when she noticed Tyler, the senior with the annoyingly perfect everything, watching her from his locker down the hall, her paranoia radar went nuclear.

He's definitely a spy, she decided. Probably collecting evidence for his TikTok roast channel.

The universe clearly had other plans when Tyler appeared at the freshman fundraising carnival, sitting behind a palm reading booth decorated with questionable purple fabric.

"Don't ask," he sighed, when Maya raised an eyebrow. "Community service requirement."

Before she could escape, he grabbed her hand. His palm was warm against hers, and suddenly her stomach was doing something concerning that had nothing to do with the questionable carnival corndog she'd eaten earlier.

"Your hair line shows creativity," he said, squinting dramatically at her hand. "And this tiny scar here means you'll discover something important soon."

"You're making this up."

"The spirits never lie, Maya."

The fact that he knew her name made everything approximately 47% more alarming.

Three days later, she found a note in her locker: "Spy meeting behind the gym after school. Come alone."

The rational choice would be staying home. The rational choice was definitely not sneaking behind the gym where the lacrosse team supposedly conducted their dark rituals.

But Maya wasn't exactly known for rational decisions that week.

Tyler wasn't alone. Three other seniors stood in a circle, holding... vitamins?

"We're not spies," Tyler said, shoving a bottle at her. "We're the supplement underground railroad. My mom's a pharmacist, and she gets all these expired vitamins that she can't sell but are still fine, and we distribute them to students who need them because school lunch is basically cardboard with ketchup."

Maya stared at the bottle. Vitamin D3.

"You brought me here for vitamins?"

"And," another senior added, pulling out salon-grade hair products, "we may have intercepted a donation shipment. Some nice shampoo for... artistic hair situations."

Maya's hand went to her hair instinctively.

"How did you —"

"The spirits never lie, Maya." Tyler grinned. "Also, Jessica in bio said you mentioned the haircut disaster. We're not monsters."

Maybe high school wouldn't be completely terrible after all. Even if her hair was still a crime against humanity, at least she had vitamin smugglers on her side.