The Palm Sweat Paradox

Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her denim shorts for the third time, watching the backyard party unfold before her. The June heat pressed down on everything, including her social anxiety.

"You need more **vitamin** D, chica," Sofia called, tossing her a papaya- flavored LaCroix from the cooler. "You're glowing like you've been underground all semester."

"Har har," Maya muttered, cracking the can. Sofia was the kind of effortlessly cool that made Maya feel like she was constantly reading from a different script. Like everyone else had received the social playbook and she'd been absent that day.

Across the yard, Caleb's **baseball** cap was backwards—because apparently that was still a thing. He and his friends were lobbing a ball back and forth, their laughter carrying over the fence. Maya had sat behind Caleb in pre-calc since August, and the most she'd ever said to him was "excuse me" when she dropped her pen once.

"Hey, pass me a drink too?"

Maya jumped. It was Caleb, standing there with his glove tucked under one arm, actually looking at her.

"Oh, uh, sure." She fumbled with the cooler, her face burning. "Want one? They're... papaya flavored."

"Wild, thanks." He cracked it open and leaned against the **palm** tree that towered over the patio. "So, Maya right? You're in Mr. Harrison's class?"

"Yeah. The **sphinx** of math teachers," she said, then immediately wanted to dissolve into the patio concrete. Why had she said that?

Caleb laughed though. "Totally. That man speaks in riddles." He took a sip. "This actually isn't terrible."

"The papaya?"

"The party. I mean, I was dreading it, but..." He gestured at the scene—Sofia now attempting to teach someone's little brother to salsa dance, the fairy lights strung between trees, the way the golden hour made everything look like a movie set. "It's actually kinda nice."

Maya looked at him—really looked at him. He wasn't effortlessly cool. He was just standing there, slightly awkward, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah," she said, and for the first time all afternoon, she meant it. "It really is."