She does something uncharacteristic over the winter break: she reads a book.

Putting her 'stay-cation' bag together (her mom has allowed her to spend a week at the Matthews') is what starts her off, and as she's taking the things she will need out of her backpack she finds his book. It sits on her desk for nearly half an hour, with her occasionally taking glimpses of it as she picks through her clothes for what she's going to take. Her inquisitiveness gets the best of her after she finishes, and she is moved to open the novel he left behind to see why books engaged him so.

Saying that she enjoyed the story would be putting it mildly. Very mildly.

She nearly gives everybody a heart attack when she comes out of her room the next day nose deep in a book—and by everybody she means her mother and Mr. Matthews.

Her mother is surprised, but she expresses that it's the good kind of surprise. She's happy to see that her daughter is involved in what she views as school-related.

Mr. Matthews is also surprised, but it's the kind of surprise that doesn't wear off for a long time and which results into staring and openly gaping as if something new and earth-shattering is taking place in front of him. "She's reading a book," he mutters in disbelief for the fifth time during the first night she stays with them.

"Yes, honey. We know," Mrs. Matthews says patiently so as not to offend the girl. "But, Maya, sweetheart, I'm going to have to ask you to put away the book for now. We're about to eat."

She sees the fleeting frown on her best friend's mother's face as she does what she's told. She's not offended, though, because she knows that usually, she asks them to put away their phones and not a classic novel.

"I don't remember being assigned a book to read for the break," Riley muses out loud.

"Oh, we didn't. It's just, you know." She shrugs. "Just checkin' it out."

Riley stares at her for a while, her eyes steady and searching. The wrinkles on her soft features deepen for a bit. Her head tilts in an inquisitive angle. "Maya? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Absolutely. "It's just reading. Is that so wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong with reading. What's out of the ordinary is that you're actually doing it even when it has nothing to do with school," Riley points out. She stares at her a little while longer. Then, her brows shoot up in shock. "Wait. Are you trying to impress Farkle?"

"What? No."

"Are you trying to out-Farkle Farkle?" Mr. Matthews joins in.

"No."

"Is it because you like the picture in the front?" Auggie asks.

"No." She rethinks that. "Well, actually, yes," she amends as she examines the cover pensively. "I do like how they did this."

"It's gotta be something more than the cover," Riley claims.

She wants to lie again, but then the guilt from the first one she's told has started to settle in. She has to tell Riley sooner or later anyways. Plus, her conscience kind of can't take the fact that she's telling untruths left and right in front of a child. So, she admits resignedly, "Okay, fine. I'm reading it because I'm curious. I just want to know why he likes reading so much."

A grin comes to Riley's face. "'He'?" Riley repeats.

She rolls her eyes. "It's not like that, okay? It's not because I like him or anything." Strike two. That feels like a lie, Hart. She shrugs it off. "He just lugs these things around so much that I kinda want to know why."

"He goes to our school?" Riley presses.

She shakes her head. "He's in ninth grade. I met him at the subway two months ago."

Riley's mouth pops open. "Maya!" she exclaims. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Obviously there is," Riley says as she takes the book from her then opens to the cover. "He's got you reading this—" She slowly looks up at her.

"What."

"This is his book."

She tries not to look so busted. "Yeah?" She sighs. "I know what you're thinking. I didn't take it from him. He left it behind at the station, so I took it. I'll give it back when I see him again."

"Does this 'he' have a name?" Mr. Matthews asks, but there's something paternal and protective now in the tone of his voice and in his nearly stoic expression.

"His name is Cade," she says. "Cade Cassidy."

"Cassidy?" Mrs. Matthews says as she walks back into the kitchen. "Why does that name ring a bell?"

"Didn't you work with a Cassidy lawyer during your brief stint as a paralegal years ago?" Mr. Matthews asks.

Mrs. Matthews nods. "Yeah. Yeah, Mr. August Cassidy," she says with a smile. "The man has guts of steel and is very intelligent. He's also a little scary, to be honest. Last I heard, he has a successful law firm."

"Does he have a family?" she asks.

Mrs. Matthews nods with a frown. "I think so. We met him a few years before Riley was born. His wife is a social worker, I think. Wasn't she pregnant with their first child when he introduced us to her at that banquet?" she asks her husband.

He nods. "Yeah."

"Cade said his mom used to be a social worker! He said she owns a flower shop now," she says. "He didn't mention much about his dad, but he did say he has a sister."

Mrs. Matthews places a hand on her hip as she leans on the kitchen counter. "Huh," she ponders out loud. "I heard he has a daughter, and someone did tell me recently that Mrs. Cassidy runs a flower shop – but I've never heard anything about them having a son."

The bright expression on her face gradually diminishes into a frown.

"The Cassidy's we know only have one kid, Maya," Mr. Matthews explains.

Riley sees the conflicting emotions starting to tumble inside her best friend's head. In an attempt to help, she says, "Well, what does Cade exactly look like?"

"Um…" She shifts up in her seat. "He has brown eyes, wears glasses. He's about as tall as I am. He's thin, but I can't really tell because he's covered with his jacket all the time. He's dark-skinned. Clean cut hair."

"He may just have the same last name. Maybe, coincidentally, he has a mom that used to be a social worker, too, who now owns a shop, and maybe he has a sister," Mrs. Matthews says with a consolatory smile. She spins around towards the stove to uncover the large pan that contains their dinner. "Mr. Cassidy is tall, but neither he nor his wife is dark skinned."

Her heart skips a beat. She doesn't want to believe that Cade had lied to her. He has no reason to, first of all, and second, he just doesn't seem like the kind of person who would dupe somebody like this.

Maybe Mrs. Matthews is right. Maybe he just happens to be a Cassidy whose mother took the same career path as Mrs. Matthews' former boss's wife did and whose sister was born around the same time the lawyer's daughter was born. Yeah. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's just all a big coincidence.

But that's the problem. The pieces fit so perfectly for it to only be a coincidence.

She doesn't pick the book back up until after dinner. When she does, instead of resuming her reading, she tucks it underneath her stay-cation bag and forgets about it throughout the whole break.

She doesn't want to be involved with anything that has to do with a boy who may just have lied to her.

. . .

"Are you even sure he's real?"

Lucas is the first to harmlessly coin that idea three months after they return from their break. She's talked to her friends about what happened (she had to, because they noticed how bummed out and a tad bit extra cranky she was, and Riley, who, to her credit, wasn't forewarned against speaking about Mismatched Boy, explained it to them), and they agreed to help her hunt down this Cade character so she can confront him. Even Farkle, who seems very unenthusiastic and maybe even slightly jealous, agrees to help albeit half-heartedly.

However, after weeks and weeks of staking out the subway, before and after school, the boy she's spoken to has yet to show up.

It makes her angrier at first.

Then, after Lucas said what he said, she begins to wonder the likelihood of that.

She knows she's not crazy. Well, okay, maybe a little, but she's not too messed up on the top floor to not be able to tell what's real and what's not.

He's real. She knows he is.

But as time marches forward, with the spring sun testing the horizons while melting the snow off the ground to revive the sleeping trees, she doesn't find any traces of him. Her doubt regarding his existence only increases when, after she and Riley begin asking the people who frequent the station if they had ever seen the boy that's usually with her, they all tell her, "No, kid. I don't see you with no boy. You're just by yourself."

Again, she's not crazy. He's real. She knows he is. How could she have gotten a hold of something as tangible as a book with his name on it if he isn't?

So she doesn't give up on waiting, even if others do.

. . .

"You're not a figment of my imagination, right?"

He looks up at her with a frown which switches to a smile when he sees her. "Well, hello to you, too," he says as he casts his eyes back to the opened book on his hands.

She walks around the bench to take the seat beside him. A heavy expression sits on her face as she stares at him, fully taking in his countenance. His outfit is consistent with what she knows him for: he's wearing a light, gray jacket over a black checkered button-up with a purple gradient shirt underneath. He still has the same backpack with the same shoes. His glasses are new, though. "You're not, like, a product of my hallucination, are you?" she insists.

He scoffs a chuckle. "No, I'm real. I'm not a hallucination," he says. He then scans their surroundings with a slight, disgusted look. "Although, with how strong the fumes are in this place, I'm kind of surprised people here hadn't gone crazy."

She only stares at him. She wonders if it would be appropriate to poke him, just to see if he'll vanish with her touch.

"How have you been?" he asks, oblivious to her thoughts. "It's been a long time since we saw each other. I've kind of been looking for you."

"I've been looking for you, too" comes out of her mouth before she can put a break on it.

He sits up. "You have?"

To disguise her embarrassment and to save herself from having to explain, she goes to her backpack to retrieve his book.

A huge grin comes to his face when she hands it to him with a mild scowl. "Oh! I've been looking for this!" he says, eyeing the book with excitement. "I left it behind."

"Yeah."

"Did you read it?"

"A bit."

"Did you like it?"

"You know, my friends think I'm insane now," she tells him, unable anymore to bear the inkling of hurt feelings she's been carrying after being ridiculed for some time.

His brows draw together. "Because you read a book?"

"Because I've been trying to return a book to someone who others apparently haven't seen," she says. His bottom lip only juts up thoughtfully. "My friends and I came here every day, and you weren't here. You only appear when it's just me, like today. We asked others, but they said they only see me. They don't see you."

"Ouch," he says. "I mean, I don't mind being invisible, but I didn't think I'd be that invisible." Seeing that she's upset, he tells her, "I don't know what to do about that, Maya. I'm obviously real. I just haven't been here for some time because my sister's had no choice but to take me home from school."

"No choice?"

"That's really the only reason I take the subway in the first place. She kicks me off the car whenever her friends want to hang out."

The hurt she's been harboring morphs into a budding seed of indignation when she hears that. "No offense, but your sister sounds evil," she comments.

He shrugs. "That's the pitfall of having a status at high school. You do whatever it takes to maintain it," he says. He fiddles with the textbooks he's holding onto for a moment. "She's not bad, though. She cares about me when it comes down to it. She actually just bought me new books from her spring break trip to Germany with her best friend and her family. It's kind of nice."

It had better be, she mutters inwardly.

"That's just how things are between siblings," he adds. "You know how it is, don't you?"

"Actually, I don't," she says. "I didn't grow up with any siblings. The closest I have to that is Riley. Auggie, too."

"Okay, who's Riley and who's Auggie?"

"Riley's my best friend, Auggie's her little brother."

"Ah," he nods. "Well, still. You've gotta be familiar with the fights and all that."

She wants to say no, but she is, in a way, so she just diverts the conversation. "What'd you do this spring break?"

"Stayed at my grandparents' house in DC. My folks were going to take me to Hawaii with them, but it's their anniversary so I told them they can leave me behind. Mom didn't want to, but I was fine. Grand'Dee and Vivi had all the HBO and Starz channels and a big fridge filled with food. It was spring break as far as I was concerned."

"Vivi? You call your grandmother by her first name?"

"She doesn't want to be called grandma," he says. "Besides, she's the one who told us to call her that."

"Oh."

He sighs. "I know. We're a weird family."

She says nothing, and it causes them to fall into a brief span of silence. When something occurs to her, she says, "You know, you haven't told me much about your dad."

He looks at her, but there's something guarded in the way he does so. "My dad works in an office," he says.

"Does he?" she keeps on, her old suspicions arising because of how rehearsed his answer sounded. "Like in a bank? Maybe a law firm?"

He steels after that. "That's not fair. We never talk about your dad," he reasons.

She feels as if a sharp chisel has been driven through her heart. "That's because he's not in my life," she says quietly, her eyes lowering down. "I told you, it's just me and my mom." She senses him staring, probably feeling sorry.

She hates it when people pity her.

Her defense mechanism kicks in because of it, and it triggers a surge of indifference to go through her. She shakes her head dismissively. "Whatever. Forget I asked. You don't have to talk about your dad if you don't want to."

He opens his mouth to apologize but closes it when he realizes that he doesn't know how to fix the mess he had made. He tries a second time. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," he says.

"Upset me? You didn't upset me," she says quickly and unfeelingly.

He neither challenges her nor corrects her even if he knows that what she said isn't true. Instead, he sits by and allows the disaster to quiet them both until it has fully run its course.

A long while passes them by. Then, he speaks. "'I'm nobody. Who are you? Are you nobody, too?'"

She looks at him, still displeased with what has transpired but is also puzzled by what he has just said.

"'Then there's a pair of us – don't tell. They'd banish, you know,'" he continues. An edge of his lips curls. "My mom loves that poem. She told us about Emily Dickinson, who wrote it. Not a lot of people liked her work during her time. They thought that the way she wrote and the way she punctuated her poems were strange. They didn't seem to like her much back then. Now, she's considered to be one of the best."

"Is this your way of saying I'm sorry?"

He takes a deep breath then releases it. "It's my way of saying that I hope you'd consider forgiving a Nobody," he says to her. "I don't have any friends. You're really the only one I've ever made in a long time. Well, at least one that doesn't just tolerate me because our parents are friends. Please give me another chance?"

A shrill, mechanical churning increases in volume at the distance, and it pulls many people surrounding them towards the platform.

She thinks about it. "I'm bringing my friends here after school tomorrow. You have to introduce yourself to them," she says flatly.

He adjusts the straps of his backpack as he gets up. "If nothing comes up, I'll be here," he says.

"Only one chance, Cassidy."

"I'll do my best to make it count, Roberts."

Her brows wrinkle and her eyes narrow. "My last name isn't Roberts."

"Shot in the dark. You've never really told me your full name," he says as he walks backwards towards the train.

She huffs."Hart. Maya Hart."

He smiles. "Okay, Maya Hart," he says. "Until tomorrow."

This time, she doesn't bother to watch him leave. She's still too hurt and offended.

However, she's willing to yield. If he proves himself trustworthy, then she'll work to forgive him. After all, he seems sincere and honest.

. . .

He doesn't show up the next day.

. . .

She stares at the cards in her hand uninterestedly. If it had been up to her, she wouldn't have showed up at school today. With almost everything for that year done and summer break just a day away, there's nothing to do in class. Really, she only came because Riley wants to go even if almost half of the student body will be gone for vacation already.

Mr. Matthews' class looks really dry of students. The teacher has kindly allowed them to do whatever they want, given that they do so quietly. She's glad that Riley has thought of bringing a deck of Uno cards to pass the time with, but it's getting to the point that even playing a game isn't cutting it. Lucas and Farkle still look invested in it, and Riley's entertained enough. She, however, is in agony of being mind-numbingly bored.

A light but clear knock on the door causes everybody in the room to look up.

For a moment, she doesn't know whether to believe her eyes or not.

"Hi," he says, a bouquet of peach roses gripped in his hands. "Are you Mr. Cory Matthews?"

"Yes," Mr. Matthews says as he sits up and scans him. "How can I help you?"

"Um… I'm looking for May—" He smiles when he catches sight of her. "I'm looking for Maya Hart. I have a delivery for her."

"Delivery?"

He nods. "I owe her an apology. It's long due," he says. He gestures towards the room. "May I?"

Mr. Matthews glances at him then at her and then him again. He nods with a small smile. "Sure."

She expects him to walk in, but instead he looks behind him then motions to someone they can't see to go ahead of him, pointing them towards her desk. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven men come in with big arrangements of faint, yellow roses, and one by one they place the vases around her until she's mostly surrounded with flowers. She looks around speechlessly, unsure on how to receive this grand display.

She looks to Riley for help, to see how she should feel about it, but she finds her best friend with her mouth open, a smile slowly pulling on the edges of her mouth as she takes in everything with a wide-eyed wonder.

He makes his way towards them as the men leave. "You must be Lucas, and Farkle. Right?" he asks the boys as he points to each of them.

Lucas nods.

Farkle only stares.

He smiles. He then turns to the brunette in front of him. "And you're Riley?" he asks her.

Riley nods.

His smile grows to a grin. "Great, because these are for you," he says, handing over the bouquet of peach roses to her.

Riley takes it from him, cradling the bundle as she admires it.

"Sorry I couldn't come that day to meet you guys at the subway. There was a family emergency. I haven't been back there since," he says with a look to her. He takes a deep breath and extends his hand to the general direction of their little circle. "I'm Cade Cassidy, by the way. I'm Maya's very alive and very real friend."

Shock ripples through the room, and the look it draws on everybody's faces makes Maya's heart flutter with pride and gives her the feeling of redemption she's been seeking for.

Riley's the first to shake his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Cade," she says, uttering each syllable slowly out of disbelief.

Farkle shakes his hand next, with Lucas being the last.

"How did you know where to find me?" Maya asks.

"I may have told my sister about the deal we made, and she may have looked you up on Facebook," he answers with a cryptic smile.

She nods, grinning. "Ah."

"Look, Maya, I'm sorry. I asked you for a chance, and I didn't follow through again. This is the best I can do to make up for it, and – I hope this is okay," he says.

She looks at him. Despite the too festive and, frankly, very assaultive button-up shirt he's wearing, her eyes are focused on his. In it, she sees sincerity and contrition. Her instincts tell her that she should be mad and that she should reject his gifts of apology, but she just couldn't, especially when she reasons that his inability to be there when she was expecting him was beyond his control. Plus, he made this much effort just to find her and introduce himself to her friends like she had asked. It should count. "We go to lunch in five minutes," she says. "You have time to hang out with us?"

He thinks about it, but as he realizes that that may be an intrusion, he looks towards the teacher in the room who, as he has hoped, is listening to them.

Mr. Matthews nods. "Visitors are allowed in the cafeteria, as far as I know," he says.

He looks back at her with a bright expression. "Hanging out sounds good."

A similar happy look emerges on her face.

The lunch goes by magnificently, making it the best one she's had that school year. The cafeteria food tastes as bland and unimpressive as they did before that, but she likes them very much for some reason. She thinks it's because of the flowers he has given her (Mr. Matthews agreed to keep it for her in his classroom until it's time to go home). She also believes that him being there with her and her friends contributes to it.

It makes her happy to see them accept him well. Riley is definitely highly impressed by him, and through her nudges she seems to be pushing the two of them together to something past platonic. Lucas asks him some introductory questions, which is good because it draws Cade to their small group. Once he finds out he's in high school, Farkle asks him many things about it, particularly the countless myths he's heard.

She smiles and laughs throughout that afternoon. Even after he bids them goodbye and leaves, that happiness stays on her face.

She doesn't really notice it until later on that day after Riley, Mr. Matthews, Lucas, and Farkle finished helping her haul in the huge amount of flowers back to her home. "It's been a long time since you've smiled this much," Riley comments as she sets the arrangement her best friend has chosen for her room on the dresser, the boys out of earshot.

What do you mean?, she almost asks. Then, she sees her own reflection in the mirror and understood. "I'm just glad that you guys know now that I didn't just create an imaginary friend," she says.

She realizes that that's only partially true the next day when she wakes up with that bright and cheerful bouquet of roses greeting her first thing, and it makes her smile again.

Why is she glad? Actually, why does everything that has to do with him make her glad? There's nothing special about him and about this good friendship that he wants to forge with her. He and it are different, yet not uncommon. Then again, there's also an element of normalcy and stability in both.

Maybe that's it. Everything about him is dichotomous. He's odd, but sure of himself. He's generally predictable, but he's also full of surprises. He's spontaneous in that he only appears once in a blue moon, but he's constant in that he's always with her in mind and in heart.

He never forgets her, even if she's long moved on from thoughts of him.

Maybe that's what really makes her glad, to know that, to another person, she's worth thinking and caring about.