This entire shitshow was typical of whichever fairy godparent oversaw granting my wishes. Want a free trip, Vic? Congratulations on scoring a romantic getaway with your three-year obsession! And we'll throw in the guy with whom she is madly in love. Whomp, whomp!

I groaned, staring at the ocean from middeck. Dev was my best friend. I hadn't known he wanted me to run interference for Alexis Cambridge. His text had come in the middle of an argument with my parents. In the middle of me setting the table for dinner, moving around the kitchen while Ina, my mother, finished cooking. Right when I had wanted to escape what felt like the lifelong fight to be myself.

"You just want to dress unconventional," Ina said my deadname, "but the internet, that's not real. Corporations change social media to a rainbow flag. So what? Means nothing. Many people say they support your lifestyle, but they don't, bunsó."

"Ina, I'm not trying to win a popularity contest, and please call me Vic like I asked." I clattered another plate on the table.

"Vic." Her eyes cut sharply.

"I was trying to read a text." Innocent, I held up my phone.

She sighed and put her fists on her hips. "You have the most impressive GPA, but no call-backs. Ask yourself why, huh?"

"Because of sexism?" I grumbled.

"Magalang." My stepdad's butchered Tagalog grated on my ears. The blue light of a laptop illuminated Brendan Wells' flat expression, hard at work (ignoring us) in the living room of our tiny apartment. Be respectful, my ass.

Mom's black flats clacked across the kitchen floor. She put a hand over mine, and I begrudgingly released the silverware I was holding to touch my forehead to her knuckles before meeting her gaze. "Sorry, Ina," I muttered.

"Walang naninira sa bakal kundi sariling kalawang," she murmured. "Nothing destroys iron but its own corrosion. They are not calling you back because of your strong need to be different, which is making you stand out in a bad way. Don't you think it is time to. . . fit in?"

"You mean conform, and I shouldn't have—"

"Enough. Enough, enough." Brendan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. I clenched my teeth. "It's not conformity," he said. "We're talking reality, plain and simple. As your parents, it's our job to get you ready for the real world, and no amount of political bullshit semantics mess is gonna change that. You sound like the goddamn CNN."

"We accept you," Mom whispered. "But we must show how important it is to. . . relate to others. Monday, Brendan get you interview at community college, put in good word for you. Wear the right gender clothes I pick out for you, okay? Okay."

I didn't want the stupid job with Brendan. After dinner, I snuck off with a doobie and my Jhene Aiko playlist. Devon had texted: Join a two-week cruise with me and a friend tomorrow? It's paid for. Our third-party bailed. At first, I thought he was joking. An all-expense paid cruise? Poggers. He had explained he needed me to help him keep from sending mixed signals to some girl.

Now that I knew the girl was Alexis Cambridge, I wanted to time travel and say anything but yes. It was bad enough Dev wasn't interested in her, but that I might have to witness her impending gentle let-down was worse. No schadenfreude, even though Lexie was my cyanide in a Styrofoam cup. She had stolen my heart and left me on Read three years ago.

I slumped in a deck chair. A gang of bikinied hotties drifted past and caught my eye. "Hey, baby," one of them blew me a kiss and winked. Scoping my surroundings, I was attracting the attention of buff boy candy, too. Noice. It was like the Powers That Be were trying to remind me this trip didn't have to be a bust.

Another flirtatious vixen poured herself onto the lounge chair next to me and spent five minutes on small talk before jotting her name—Gabrielle—and room number on the back of my hand. What was this? My pink shorts, baggy white axolotls print tee, and olive-green boat shoes were doing the Lord's work.

I could see myself enjoying the rest of the voyage. The deck was comfortably uncrowded. Upmarket loungers fanned out around a gleaming turquoise pool. Reggaeton poured from a quality surround sound system. Groups of folks strolled the different levels, getting acquainted with the layout of the luxury boat. I loved it.

When I ambled to the poolside bar, it was packed. Early birds in various iterations of straw fedoras and linen button-down offered to buy me drinks. I ordered a Miami Vice. Hell yes, I could get used to this for two weeks. People-watching, basking in chaotic bisexuality.

I watched a woman in an orange ruffled top and a multicolored layered skirt juggling a kitschy magic ball as she traversed the deck. "Fortunes! Get your fortunes told," she bellowed. "You want your fortune told, love?" She singled out a guy who shrugged and nodded. His entourage shouted encouragement, too, as the woman settled in their midst to do her thing. Her laughing, radiant face said she didn't take herself too seriously.

Someone nudged me. "Can you believe the whole cruise will be like this?" I feigned interest, but I had no idea what they were talking about. The whole cruise would be like what? Full of LARPer Esmeraldas?

Right away, the hushed interchange between the manghuhula, the psychic, and her mark seemed to impress his travel group. In less than ten minutes, a small crowd had gathered. Wows and how'd you knows went up. I faced the ocean before anyone assumed I was interested in knowing the future. It didn't take a psychic to tell me that my life was on the downswing.

The sky was hyper-blue, studded with white cumulus clouds like something lifted from a travel blog. The morning was sweltering, but a warm breeze stirred as a voice over the loudspeaker announced preparations to leave port.

It was the last call to walk the plank. I could either get ready for my job interview tomorrow or stay aboard and choose my own adventure, irrespective of what my parents wanted.

Cruises were for geriatrics, but this one seemed worth its salt. The Fortuna Neptune cruise line was in the top three worldwide. Last night after Dev's text, I had done my homework, although I hadn't found anything about the specific travel agency, Three's Company. The pandemic had slashed rates. It had also toggled the demographic of travelers from the usual middle-aged couples and retirees to young, body-positive coeds and new adults like us. I didn't see a kid in sight.

My face fell as the manghuhula took a seat beside me. "Hi!" she chirped.

I flashed a tight-lipped smile and bobbed my head, but I zoned in on my drink.

"Sorry to be intrusive, boo." She had, I think, a New Orleans accent. Unless it was fake. "I just—I feel drawn to you. I'm Samentha, pronouns she/her. And you are?"

"Er, I'm not into the spirituality kick, so... Yeah." I scooted my chair away a little.

Laughing, she stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Not into the Spirituality Kick. I guess if I were so unfortunately named, I would be unfriendly, too."

"Vic," I said sheepishly, "pronouns they/them. Nice to meet you."

As I shook her hand, I noticed she had the most arresting eyes. One was dark brown and the other light blue. Paired with her toasted almond skin, the heterochromia was striking. Umber locs cascaded over her shoulder to her bare tummy, and faint stretch marks showed between the bottom of her shirt and waistband of her skirt.

"Vic." She tried my name out with a grin. Her wide gap was attractive. She turned my hand over to see my palm. "Vic, tell me why you're not interested in hearing the truth about yourself. Running from your parents won't make their advice any quieter in your head, no."

"How did you—?" I quirked my lips. I had almost warmed up to her. Shame. "I'm good."

Samentha softened. "Three's Company hired me to make sure patrons enjoy themselves. I hope you don't take my playfulness the wrong way. . . Did I strike a nerve?"

With a dry laugh, I sipped the last of the strawberry and coconut frozen cocktail. "I'm a nonbinary Asian. Of course, my parents have plenty to say about who and how I should be. I'm taking this trip to forge ahead on my own, though."

"My bad. My introduction must've felt like me taking advantage of the obvious. But I like the thought of a quest for self-sovereignty, the right to be your own ruler and lay down your own rules. You—what—twenty-one, twenty-two?"

"Fresh out of school, fully degreed, with no clue what to do next." I nodded, watching a freewheeling seabird catch an aerial and soar across the Gulf. The cruise ship had begun to move. I wondered what Devon and Lexie were doing below deck. Had Lexie found a bigger room for us yet?

"Meanwhile, everybody else seems to think they got your future mapped," Samentha said, "but they can't possibly, because you hardly know where you are, much less where you're going. I majored in psychology. Fate decided I would never use my degree."

"Sorry to hear that." I smile-cringed. Millennials.

"Can I offer you one teeny, tiny piece of unsolicited advice, boo?"

Please, don't. "Sure, why not?" I found myself saying. I lifted my gaze from the residual ice in my cup, and the intense blue and brown eyes of the manghuhula penetrated mine.

"You're not a teenager anymore, Vic. Stop obsessing over what you want that you can't have. Go after what you need. Understand that who you are can be a full-fledge tantrum or a resolute statement, but only one of those will gain you respect. You heard me?" Samentha patted my hand.

"That's eloquent, but—"

"Hold up, 'cause today is a new moon. Believe it or not, since you've set your intentions to spend this trip being self-sovereign, over the next lunar fortnight you gone see an extra boost from the universe. Each time you do what you feel is best for you and assert your rights over your life path, you gone be rewarded.

"However." She leaned in. "Each time you wallow in the past, ignoring what's ahead of you, you gone feel a redirection from the heavens in the form of what you might call bad luck."

"What?" I laughed in disbelief.

"Every exchange of energy requires a give-and-take." She glibly lifted a shoulder.

"Right. Hm. Yeah, I don't believe in luck, but the rest of that was. . ." I made an A-okay symbol with my thumb and forefinger and hopped to my feet. When I patted around for cash, she refused my offer.

"All part of your cruise experience," she explained.

"Oh, thanks! I hate to run, but. . ."

"I'll see you around, Vic." Samentha cheerfully waved.

I beat a hasty retreat. It was too hot out for prophecies and omens, anyway. Dabbing a forearm across my brow, I went in search of someplace else within the ship to kill time, rather than returning to the stateroom. I wondered whether the Friendship Code required me to let Devon know I had been with Lexie. Or if my emotional connection to Lexie required me to tell her that Devon wasn't that into her.

There were other, more pressing concerns on my mind, too. For instance, I hadn't told anyone back home that I was leaving. In retrospect, it felt childish, especially after Samentha's portrayal of selfhood as a tantrum or a resolute statement.

I gathered my phone to text my sister, but I collided with someone, and the phone jostled. As I tried to catch it, the device bounced from fingertip to fingertip, plunking over the railing into the waves. "No, no, no!" I stared at the water in shock.

"Vic! I'm so sorry!" The voice drew my attention.

Tingling warmth flushed me head to toe, and I faced the person—Lexie—who wavered toward me contrite as ever. I withdrew the hand that reached on reflex for her. This girl had k-worded my phone. The manghuhula had been right. Obsessing over the past was straight up bad luck for me.

"Wow." I flashed a sarcastic smile and shook my head. "Right in the middle of letting my parents know where I am. They'll be worried sick, thanks."

Lexie deflated. "Vic, we need to talk."

"Nah, don't worry about it. No hard feelings." I stormed off.