he braids her hair.
When they're two weeks away from the last day of eighth grade, the school decides to have a lockdown drill. The class of 19 all crowds into the cramped art closet, minus one. As Ms. Kossal does a head count, she realizes Riley went to the bathroom and didn't make it back before the alarm went off. Maya immediately whips out her phone and searches the crowd for Farkle, Zay, and Lucas. She pushes through to the opposite side of the huddle and demands they bombard Riley with texts too. Exactly two minutes and thirteen seconds after Maya enlists the boys to help her find Riley, she receives a text telling her "I'm fine Peaches, I'm in my dad's room." After that, Maya takes it down a notch and settles herself on the floor, continuing to text Riley. Lucas can still see the slight shake of her hands and how she's starting to pull her hair towards her mouth, so he sits on the floor behind her. He wordlessly gathers all of her hair behind her head, so it rests on her back. The thought of screaming doesn't even cross her mind as her brain immediately registers the familiar calluses against her bare shoulders. He gently combs most of the knots out of her golden mane with his fingers, being careful not to pull too hard. He plays with her hair until she stops shaking. He is halfway through slowly negotiating her unruly waves into a single french braid when they are finally allowed to leave the closet. He quickly finishes her braid and puts a spare hair tie around it. They wordlessly stand up and walk out of the closet with the rest of the class, Lucas's guiding hands on Maya's shoulders so she doesn't walk into the doorframe while texting Riley.
"What just happened?" Farkle asked Zay as they sat back down.
"What do ya mean?" Zay responds.
"That whole thing. You know, with the floor and the hair and the braids."
"Lucas has basically lived with horses his whole life, of course he knows how to braid hair."
"That's not what I meant. I meant with-," Farkle starts to say back, but is cut off by Riley entering the room.
"I like your hair," Riley squeals.
"Oh thanks," Maya mutters as she runs her hand over the textured plait. "I do too."
