What the Palm Reader Saw

The humidity in Florida hit different—like the air was literally made of warm **water**. Maya dragged me toward the fortune teller booth at the spring carnival, her excitement totally cringe but also kinda adorable.

"My cousin got her palm read last year and the lady knew EVERYTHING," Maya insisted, practically vibrating. "Please? It'll be iconic."

I let my supposed best **friend** pull me behind the purple velvet curtain. My palms were sweating so hard I probably looked like I'd just ran a marathon. Which was perfect, honestly, since I was definitely low-key freaking out.

The fortune teller—Ms. Zora, according to the handwritten sign—grabbed my hand before I could fully process the sketchy vibes. Her nails were crazy long, painted electric blue.

"You're carrying something," she said, tracing a line across my **palm**. "Something heavy. Someone else's secret."

I felt my face go hot. Maya raised her eyebrows, suddenly way too interested.

"There's a **cat** in your path," Ms. Zora continued. "Not literal. Someone who appears innocent but scratches when you turn away."

My stomach did this weird flip thing. I didn't need a psychic to figure out who that might be. I'd been catching subtle vibes from certain people lately—fake smiles that didn't reach their eyes, conversations that stopped when I walked into rooms.

"And you'll have to **bear** witness soon," Ms. Zora said, suddenly intense. "To something that changes everything. The question is: will you speak?"

We left the booth in total silence. Maya kept glancing at me sideways, like she was actually seeing me for the first time. Not as the quiet girl who never caused drama, but as someone who might have her own secrets—her own truths.

"So..." Maya said, once we reached our bikes. "You gonna tell me what's actually going on?"

I looked at her, really looked at her. Maybe Ms. Zora was just really good at cold reading. Maybe she'd said that stuff to everyone.

Or maybe it was time I finally said what I'd been holding in for months: how I knew who'd started that rumor about her. How I'd stayed silent because I was scared. How carrying that secret was slowly eating me alive.

"Yeah," I said. "Actually. I am."

The air didn't feel so heavy anymore.