She learned to keep her mouth shut from a young age - her father didn't like it when she interrupted him. She became quiet, talking only when she needed to. She spent hours in her room, playing with dolls, pretending they were her parents. In the doll's house, they never fought, and every Sunday they went out to the ice cream shop. In her house, her parents always yelled at each other, arguing over money and jobs, but most of all, herself.
"Nobody wants to buy art!" Her father would yell. "You need to stop encouraging her, and focus on finding a job."
"I want to let Maya show us who she really is." Her mother would argue. "She hardly speaks, and that's your fault. We never get to see her anymore, and she's starting school next month."
"I just want her to be successful."
"And I just want her to be happy."
Her mother took her to the playground to make new friends, but instead she would lay on the ground, drawing with chalk. Instead of playing board games, she would sketch a flower, or a lion. Her drawings were good, for a five year old, and she took pride in them. Her mother would set up canvas and paint for her, and she would spend hours painting. Sometimes she would make a magical kingdom, with her parents as the king and queen, and sometimes she would paint her house. One day, she painted a dark gray background, with their yellow house in the foreground. The paint she used was too bright, so she mixed it with brown, making a dusty looking yellow. She painted black trees, shadowy and crisp, with a few dark gray leaves clinging to the branches. When her father saw it, he ripped it in half, throwing it into the dumpster behind the diner where her mom worked. He refused to tell her why, but she heard him talking with her mom later.
"She sees this house like a dungeon!" He yelled.
"Maybe it's not as surreal as we thought."
"Dammit, Katy! She's the most surreal artist I've ever seen. You know what this means."
She never found out what 'this' meant. She only knew that her father moved out the next day, leaving a bouquet of white roses behind for his daughter. She didn't see him after that, and wouldn't for a long time after. Her mother spent a whole day locked in her room. Maya could hear sobs coming through the door. Choked, heartbroken sobs. But she herself wasn't too upset, really. He hadn't been much of a father to her, and she never really got to know him. Sure, she missed him, but she didn't understand yet why the situation was so sad. Because she wouldn't get to participate in father-daughter activities anymore, and her father would never take her out to get ice cream after a piano recital.
"He wasn't much of a dad, anyway." She told herself.
It was her first day of school. Skipping Stone Elementary, the closest, cheapest school they could find. She wasn't nervous as she walked through the doors, carrying her little blue lunchbox in one hand, and a backpack half full with cheap pencils and a flimsy notebook. She went to the room at the end of the hall - room 12. As she walked in, she saw the other kids already sitting down at their desks. She sat in the only empty one, which was right behind a brunette girl in a pink dress. Maya rolled her eyes. She had always been more of a tomboy, choosing red over pink, but blue overall, with jeans and tee shirts instead of skirts or dresses.
"Hi!" The brunette in front of her turned around, smiling perkily. "I'm Riley."
"Maya." Maya responded, ignoring the other girl's hand.
"Well, Maya." The teacher said, walking to her desk. "You were late, but I'll let that go for today, since it is your first day."
Maya looked down at her sneakers, blushing. She didn't like being called out - it normally meant getting in trouble.
"Okay, class." The teacher introduced herself. "I'm Mrs. Albert, your teacher."
Maya snorted. Like I didn't already know that.
Mrs. Albert glanced at Maya curiously, but continued with the lesson.
At lunch, Riley sat next to Maya. The blonde looked up, surprised. She had been drawing their classroom in great detail, but couldn't remember how the continents on the globe were laid out.
"Hi!" Riley greeted, all smiles. "What're you working on?"
"Um…" Maya trailed off, looking at Riley in wonder.
Riley pulled the small sketchbook out of Maya's hands, looking at the drawing. "This is really good."
"Thank you." May blushed.
Riley stared at it for a few more seconds. "This is really really good."
As the week went on, Riley continued to sit with Maya every day at lunch. She watched her sketch, oblivious to the hidden meanings behind all the drawings.
"What's this?" She asked one day, pointing to a picture in the book.
"That's a baby bird." Maya explained patiently.
"Why's it on the ground?" Riley tilted her head innocently.
"It fell out of it's nest." Maya told her, shutting the book abruptly. "Let's eat."
That weekend, Riley invited Maya for a playdate. As the two walked into Riley's house, Maya stared around in wonder.
"This place is really nice." Maya looked around rapidly, trying to take it all in at once. "What's that?"
"That's a TV, silly." Riley laughed. "We use it to watch things, like sports and ponies."
"Hi Riley!" A woman said, stepping out of the hallway. "Who's this?"
"This is Maya, mommy." Riley said, bouncing happily. "We're having a playdate."
"Hi, Maya." The woman held out her hand. "I'm Topanga."
"Hello." Maya said, shyly shaking Topanga's hand.
"Hey, Riley!" A loud voice came from the hallway. A man stepped out, standing behind Topanga. "Make a new friend?"
"This is Maya." Riley introduced her again, still bouncing.
"Hello, Maya." The man said, smiling hugely. "I'm Cory."
Noticing her sketchbook, Topanga tilted her head. "Whatcha got there?"
Maya moved her book further behind her back, but Riley answered for her. "That's her sketchbook. She draws things really well."
Cory knelt down in front of the blonde. "May I see?" He asked gently.
Slowly, Maya brought the book out from behind her back. Cory took it carefully, opening it to the first page. There, on the front, was a drawing of her classroom. The page after that, a woman stared out at him. She wore a dirty waitress outfit, with a nametag. Katy Hart.
"Is this your mom, sweetie?" Topanga asked, looking over Cory's shoulder.
"Sometimes." Maya answered truthfully. "Sometimes it doesn't really feel like she is."