Maya Hart learned at a young age that good things didn't last—more specifically, that good things didn't last for her. She never knew where the good went, but she figured it went to other little girls who deserved it more than she did.

She was six years old when she learned. Six years old and happy. As far as she was concerned, she had a good thing going. Ok, so maybe her family didn't have nice things. Maybe her apartment was creaky and leaky and really scary at night. And maybe she didn't have any friends at her elementary school. But she did have a mom and a dad who loved her and told her so all the time. Maybe her dad went away sometimes, but he always came back. And she had art. Maybe she wasn't supposed to sneak paper and crayons onto the playground, but she did it anyway. Her family and her art, that was her good.

And then her good had a bad day. She got yelled at for sneaking the crayons onto the playground. She wouldn't have gotten caught if it weren't for the fact that she forgot to sneak out paper too, so instead she just drew on the ground. She figured crayons were the same as chalk anyway. Mrs. Lenore didn't think so. Maya sulked for the rest of the day, and when school was over she was even happier than usual to go home.

She was in the hallway when she heard the screaming. She could hear them almost perfectly, even with the door closed. She opened the front door quietly (as if anyone would have heard it anyway). Her dad was in the kitchen and her mom was behind him, screaming. He had his back to her, and Maya watched as he spun around and screamed back, his hand hovering just next to her mom's cheek. Maya crept to her room.

Even at six years old Maya never cried, but that night she really wanted to.

Her good had a lot of bad days after that. Her parents kept screaming and Mrs. Lenore kept screaming and sometimes when she was alone Maya screamed. She had turned seven and it felt like her good was getting smaller. Her dad went away more often and for longer and her mom didn't tell Maya how much she loved her everyday. So she was determined to hold onto the other part of her good. She drew all of the time—when she ate breakfast, when she was supposed to be doing her schoolwork (who needed math anyway?), when she was on the playground (sometimes on paper, sometimes not). It was mostly what Mrs. Lenore screamed about, but Maya didn't care so much anymore. Mrs. Lenore's screaming wasn't so scary anymore, and it made her parents pay attention to her.

Riley Matthews made her good big again. Maya was seven and a half when she met Riley, and she knew they would be best friends forever. She was made of smiles and rainbows and happiness and maybe Maya would have to teach her a thing or two, but that was ok with her. She spent most days with Riley. Riley's house wasn't creaky or leaky or scary at night, and no one was ever screaming. Riley's family was pretty cool too. Soon the whole Matthews clan was part of her good.

And then Maya's good crashed and burned. Her dad had gone away, which was nothing new, but he always came back after three or four days. This time he had been gone for seven. Seven long days that made Maya's seven years seem like nothing. Then it was twelve days, and then it was eighteen days, and then it was a month.

"What's the matter Maya?" Riley asked her one day. It was a special day. Riley was about to be a big sister. It was Riley's day. Maya didn't want to be selfish—she didn't want to make it all about her. But she also felt like she was about to burst.

"We don't know where my daddy is."

That day Maya knew in her heart that her dad was never coming back. After that day Maya's mom worked a lot more and was sad a lot more. The apartment was still creaky and leaky, but now it was scary even during the day, because it was always empty. Maya still had art and Riley and the Matthews, but her family was broken. Her good was broken.

And she realized that good things didn't last for Maya Hart.


Maya didn't change much after that, and neither did her good. It was small and broken and filled with Riley Matthews and little else. Riley was the most important thing in Maya's world. If there was one good thing that was going to last in Maya's life it was Riley. She would make sure of it, because Riley was the one thing she could never bear to lose. She never thought she would lose her over something so stupid.

It was a stupid fight—a really, really stupid fight. Maya and Riley had fought before, but this was different. Both girls were sure they were right, and Maya was furious that Riley couldn't understand her point.

"In life, no matter what happens sometimes all you need is someone who will be there for you no matter what!"

Maybe her point was weighed down by abandonment issues and insecurity, but Maya thought Riley was her someone.

They fought for three days, but it felt like three lifetimes. In those three days Maya thought she had lost Riley, and with Riley the rest of the Matthews, and then all that was left of her good was her half mom and art. When they made up Maya was reminded of two things:

1) She would do whatever it took to keep Riley Matthews in her life, no matter what, because

2) Good things didn't last for Maya Hart.


The next part of her good to be threatened was art. Art was something that, while she was doing it, made her good feel bigger than it really was. When she was drawing or painting (or even, occasionally, sculpting) she forgot about her broken family and broken good, instead focusing on creating something. It was her escape.

Until Ms. Kossal told her that the school was losing the art program. Sure Maya could still do art without art class, but it wasn't the same. She wouldn't learn anything new or have access to nicer materials. She would just have the sky and a pack of colored pencils.

She would lose another part of her good.

"It's ok Riles, just another door closed."

She wouldn't make a big deal. She wouldn't be dramatic. She would be ok.

Except she wouldn't. She wasn't. And Riley knew that. She saw right through her, got her to react, to admit she cared. To do something about it. To take her good back. To actively seek her good.

They saved art in the end, but it was just another point on a long list of why good things didn't last for Maya Hart.


There was one part of her good that Maya was a bit uncomfortable with and his name was Lucas Friar. She couldn't deny that he was part of her good, as much as she might want to. She couldn't deny that he made her feel happy and cared for and safe. He wasn't part of her good because she liked him, or because he might like her back. He was part of her good because, like Riley, he made her a better person and made her life a better life.

Which was why she didn't want him to be a part of her good. Good things didn't last, and she couldn't lose Lucas. So she resisted, and it showed. Sometimes their relationship was easy and smooth, and then she would be reminded of how easily she could lose him and she would freeze up and ignore him for days.

And then she realized she liked him and shit hit the fan. Because if there was one thing she dreaded more than anything it was losing Riley. So she shut down her feelings, ignored them, tucked them away. Riley and Lucas were Riley and Lucas and all was right in the world.

Until Riley found out. She found out Maya liked Lucas and there was a blur of events—Riley didn't like Lucas and Maya did and he almost kissed her and she was so confused she didn't know what to think or feel or do. Neither of them did, and together they felt for footing in this new strange relationship. Relationship. Maya Hart had a relationship with Lucas Friar?

They went on a few dates, trying to get used to each other after the startling revelations. And it was weird, but Maya liked it. And if Riley was acting a little different then maybe Maya would turn the other way, because maybe Maya wanted to seek out her good.

"Riley still loves Lucas!"

It was the New Year and Maya Hart spent it with a broken heart and a knotted, guilty stomach. Of course Riley still liked Lucas (love was certainly pushing it, but Farkle wasn't one to know those things). Of course that's why she was acting the way she was. Maya had been selfish—how could she steal the boy Riley liked? Except really she didn't steal Lucas, and she liked him just as much, different as her feelings were. If that was selfish then maybe she would be selfish for a little bit longer.

For the next few months their feelings remained need-to-know, and according to them, no one needed to know. The subject was avoided and circled and walked around and Maya liked it that way.

The boys didn't like it that way, and insisted Lucas had to make a decision, had to choose a girl. Maya could feel her heart falter. She looked from Riley to Lucas and back. There was no situation in which her good stayed intact. If Lucas chose Riley she lost Lucas, and if Lucas chose her she lost Riley. Maya was sure of one thing and that was that she could never, ever lose Riley Matthews.

So Maya did what Maya does best—she pushed. Pushed him away, pushed her feelings away. Removed herself from the triangle, from the equation. With an aching heart she declared she didn't like Lucas. And—despite what her brain told her was logical—much to her aching heart's disappointment, everyone listened to her, believed her. Lucas and Riley were Lucas and Riley and Maya was what Maya always was:

Alone.

Because good things didn't last for Maya Hart.