10

Sophomore year is the year Farkle Minkus learns about hubris.

It all starts with the word Mr. Matthews slaps on the board in the middle of the year, turning to the class with an excited smirk on his face. Farkle both appreciates and detests that look—it means there's an intriguing lesson coming their way, but knowing Cory, it probably won't be delivered with a whole lot of tact.

Hamartia.

"Can anybody tell me what this word means?"

Farkle keeps his hand on his desk, glancing around the room to see if any of his classmates will try to take the bullet for once. Riley's hand is hovering a couple of inches above the surface of her desk, an uncertain gleam in her eyes as if she wants to give it a go but doesn't trust herself to get it right. Maya's squinting at the board behind her, obviously completely lost but making a show of being interested.

Behind him, he hears the fabric of Smackle's outfit rustle as she shoots her hand in the air, not waiting around for their peers to catch up. He smirks to himself.

Cory tilts his head, smiling at Maya. "You look pretty deep in thought there, Miss Hart."

"You always seem to think I am," she admits, crossing her legs and raising her eyebrows at him.

"Give it a guess. What do you think it means?"

She hums, licking her lips before lighting up with an idea. "It's an instrument. That instrument that Lucas plays to all the cows back on the farm. You know, when he's hanging out with his friends. Because the cows are his friends."

Farkle doesn't even have to turn around to know Lucas is rolling his eyes. Cory narrows his eyes. "Are you talking about a harmonica?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right. That's what that's called."

"When are you going to sick of the Texas jokes?" Lucas asks tiredly, tapping his pen against his binder.

Maya whips around, giving him a challenging look. "You really gonna tell me you don't have a harmonica in your backpack right now?"

"No, I don't!"

"Zay, check his bag."

Lucas pulls his backpack away from Zay's grasp, shoving it under his chair. Riley attempts to put the lesson back on track, clasping her hands in front of her on her desk and looking up at her father eagerly. "So, if it's not a musical instrument, then what is it?"

Cory casts a glance to Farkle's corner of the room. It's become tradition for him to turn to the Smarkle Corporation every class. Although Farkle wonders why the two of them don't just take over the school at this point, there's a small part of him that really enjoys being needed so reliably.

He gestures offhandedly behind him, allowing his girlfriend to take the reins.

"Hamartia is a literary term. Coming originally from the Greeks, it refers to the weakness of the protagonist that ultimately leads to their downfall when they cannot overcome it. It's classically used in all tragedies, from the Greeks to Shakespeare."

Cory nods, opening discussion back up to the classroom with a wave of his hands. "Also known as?"

Lucas raises his hand tentatively. "Fatal flaw?"

"Very good, Mr. Friar. Fatal flaw. All of us have one. Fatal flaws have brought the greatest heroes and villains in history down to their knees."

Maya flips her hair over her shoulder, leaning forward in her seat to object. "Haven't we already done a whole flaws thing? Haven't we moved past this?"

Farkle clears his throat. Back in middle school he'd pipe up whenever he knew the answer, but as he's gotten older he's found a lot more enjoyment in picking just the right thing to say. He usually waits for the best moment to step into the conversation—it at least makes Cory's straight-forward lessons a little more interesting if he tries to play along with the game.

"A fatal flaw isn't just another one of those everyday flaws like 'nothing' or 'insecure.' It's something intrinsic, something so built into our sense of being that we don't even recognize it as a flaw. That's why it's so easy to be destroyed by it."

Cory points emphatically at Farkle, accentuating his point. "This is something that goes deeper than your surface insecurities, Maya. It requires introspection. And that's why I want to start you all on the path as early as possible. So, with that, your assignment."

Farkle grins. The rest of the class groans.

"Take some time this week and examine your strengths and your weaknesses. What makes you the person that you are? What would it take to take you down? Can you recognize your own hamartia? Think on it. That, as well as the assigned reading on ancient Greece. See how these things line up?"

Cory spends the rest of the class going on about Greek and Roman history, but Farkle doesn't pay a whole lot of attention. He zones out and focuses on doodling out a periodic table on his notes, attempting to commit it to memory with repeated reinforcement.

Any time Smackle speaks up from behind him, he smirks in spite of himself and loses his train of thought. He doesn't understand anything about emotions, and if he's being honest he finds them frankly terrifying, but he can't help the proud little pang in his chest whenever he thinks about her.

She's the only person in the world with whom he's perfectly fine being the less impressive one. That alone feels inexplicable.

At Topanga's later that week, it's obvious that the group is struggling with this assignment.

Maya leans back in the armchair and flips through a magazine, feet propped up on table without any consideration for the food sitting only a few inches away. Zay sits next to Lucas and Riley on the loveseat, chewing a pencil between his teeth and frowning at his history textbook.

"Anyone having any luck?" Smackle questions.

Maya drops the magazine on her lap, throwing her hands into the air. "You know, Mr. Matthews said so himself that this stuff can take years to figure out. How am I supposed to figure out my biggest weakness in a week?"

"What are you supposed to do if you don't have any flaws?" Zay asks innocently. "Because that's the real reason I'm struggling."

Riley brushes some hair behind her ear, sitting forward and reaching to grab her laptop off the table. "Maybe that's the point," she suggests. She lifts her eyes to lock eyes with all of them, shrugging. "You know, my dad can be tricky like that. Maybe he doesn't expect us to figure it out by the end of the week. Just wants us to start thinking about it."

Farkle makes a face, catching the attention of Maya across from him. She raises an eyebrow, sitting up straighter in her seat. "What's up with you, Farkle? What's with the face?"

"Oh, nothing." Maya narrows her eyes at him. Riley, Lucas, and Zay turn their attention on him expectantly, but he doesn't go on until Smackle elbows him insistently. "Ow. Thank you, Isadora. Really, it's nothing. I just find it funny that all of you seem to think this assignment is so difficult."

"Most assignments are," Maya grumbles. "Mostly because I don't want to do them."

Riley frowns at Farkle, tilting her head curiously. "Do you find it easy or something?"

"What doesn't Farkle find easy?" Zay mutters, focusing back on his textbook and placing the pencil back between his teeth.

"Thanks, Zay." Farkle smiles, holding his hands up in surrender. "I don't think it's particularly simple or challenging either way. It's only funny that you all or struggling when your fatal flaws are all so painfully obvious."

"What?" Lucas squints at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, come on! I could tell all three of you your fatal flaw right here, right now. It's written all over you. I don't even need to be perceptive to get it."

He can tell Riley's processing his words, and the slight crinkle at the corner of her eyes indicates she's not too thrilled with his assumption. But it's Maya who jumps in first, leaning forward on her elbows with a wide grin on her face.

"You think you got us figured out? Let's hear it. I'm so ready to hear this."

Farkle nods appreciatively at Maya, jumping to his feet and walking around the loveseat to stand behind Zay. He reaches forward and pats his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Zay here suffers from sarcasm as a defense mechanism. He uses humor to cover up for his genuine insecurities."

Zay rolls his eyes. "Alright, sure, genius. How is that gonna kill me though?"

"I don't know. Guess we'll find out if you don't work on it, huh?" The two of them exchange a brief stare-off, before Zay grumbles and wiggles out of his grasp.

Farkle slides on down to stand behind Lucas, taking his shoulders. "Lucas has the uniquely paradoxical flaw of being too pretty. He's so pretty that no one is ever going to take him seriously, which is really going to suck in a few years when we're all trying to make it or break it in this world." Lucas frowns and tries to shake him off, but Farkle merely moves his hands to his face instead, patting his cheeks condescendingly. "There, there, face. There, there."

Riley hops to her feet as Lucas slaps his hands away, waiting for Farkle to come around to the other side of the couch. "That's not true. You can't just decide what our fatal flaws are going to be."

"I'm not deciding. I'm observing and then constructing a theory based on presented evidence. It's the scientific method. There's a difference."

Lucas looks between the two of them, still a little stung from Farkle's evaluation of him. "Yeah, but you can't know our flaws. Only we can know them. We have to figure them out on our own. You can't just swoop in and point them out."

"Exactly. You can't just become an authority on a subject that's supposed to be introspective," Riley argues, glancing over his shoulder at Maya. "Back me up here."

"Sorry, honey," she replies with a shrug, falling back against the chair. "I don't think Farkle is necessarily wrong. Honestly, I kind of want him to tell me my flaw. Keeps me from having to do the homework myself."

Riley bites her tongue at her best friend's nonchalance. Farkle shrugs, crossing his arms. "Sorry, Riley. But what I've observed speaks for itself. When have I ever been wrong about what's going on with you guys? I think I know what I'm talking about. And like I said, the scientific method speaks for itself. Right, Smackle?"

There's a pause. The silence from the other side of the group causes Riley to turn around and Farkle to lean around her to lock eyes with Smackle, both of them in relative shock.

Smackle clears her throat, smoothing her skirt out anxiously. "I am sorry, Farkle. But I believe I have to side with Riley on this particular argument."

"What?" Farkle pushes past Riley and stares at Smackle, stunned, before whipping back around to face her again. "What did you do to my girlfriend?"

"I simply agree that this problem is introspective," Smackle says loudly, regaining all of their focus. "It's not a homework assignment that we can get help on from one another. It's something we have to figure out individually. It's certainly impressive that you seem to have such a grasp on all of their personal plights, but I don't know if that's the correct answer or the one we're looking for."

"The point is that you may know us, but you don't know everything going on inside us," Riley states, matching Farkle's glare when he spins back to lock eyes with her. "Just because you're a genius doesn't mean you're always right."

He scoffs, standing straighter and jutting his chin out. "The point is, Riley, that you're practically putting your fatal flaw on display right now."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Naivety. It's your greatest weakness. Goes along with that whole believing people are inherently good and all that. Hence, why you're disagreeing with me. You're naïve enough to believe that there's pieces of the human nature that others can't perceive. Thankfully, I've just helped you loads on your assignment. You're welcome."

Riley stares at him, taking a deep breath before leaning down to grab her things. "Come on."

Lucas starts when she nudges his arm, immediately starting to gather their books. Farkle rolls his eyes. "Are you really going to storm off now? Just because you're wrong?"

"Well, if you're so good at recognizing our flaws, you know what your flaw is, Farkle?" she huffs, standing tall and not backing down from his inquisitive gaze. "You're stubborn."

"Stubborn?" Farkle laughs, shaking his head. "You think that's a fatal flaw? A flaw grand enough to bring a god to its knees?"

"You're stubborn. And…" she trails off, working up the courage to say what's on her mind. "And arrogant!"

"Whoa," Zay says, exchanging a surprised look with Maya.

Lucas shoulders his bag and picks up Riley's off the couch. Riley narrows her eyes at Farkle for a second longer, swallowing her frustration.

"Good luck on the homework," she says offhandedly to the group, leading the way out of the café. Lucas is right on her heels, following along like the reliable boyfriend Farkle knows he is. He kind of thinks of him like a golden retriever most days.

Right now, he just thinks emotions don't make any sense, and he certainly doesn't get why Riley's so full of them over this. He sneers at the door where she disappear through, shrugging at Maya before settling back down next to Smackle.

"You guys think I'm arrogant?"

"Absolutely," Zay says. He glances at Farkle's flat expression. "Oh, was I supposed to say no?"

The further into the week they get, the more irritated each of Farkle's friends becomes at the assignment at hand. Maya gives up entirely, choosing to believe she's perfect instead. She claims this will go off well in class, as Cory will be proud of her for choosing self-esteem over self-deprecation. Zay decides to go with the comedy thing just to get through the week.

Riley is still icing Farkle out, and this gets to him way more than trying to figure out what to deem his own hamartia. He complains about it after school to Smackle and Maya as they're hanging out on the sidewalk outside his place.

"I just don't get why she's so upset over it," Farkle whines as Smackle holds his hands, lightly tugging him down the sidewalk as he attempts to teach himself how to skateboard. Maya made fun of him for it, but he'll be damned if he goes to college with no other form of transport besides his own two feet. A bike is too much maintenance. A skateboard, he figures, is something he can carry around without too much of a hassle.

Besides, when he puts his mind to something, he knows he can learn anything. Skateboarding included.

"It's self-perception," Maya points out, reclining back against the stairs that lead up to the entrance of Minkus International. "This is Riley's favorite sort of assignment, and you're stealing her thunder. Not only that, but you went for Lucas's appearance. That's a big no-no in the Riley Matthews handbook."

"Someone sounds bitter," he teases.

Maya rolls her eyes. Smackle slowly lets go off Farkle's hands and watches as he propels himself a few feet down the pavement before stumbling and tripping as the skateboard flies out from under him for the firth time that afternoon. He curses and Maya breaks into laughter, shaking her head in disappointment.

Smackle stops the skateboard with her foot and picks it up, holding it out for him to take. He does, tossing Maya a glare. "Have you had enough?"

"Look, I know you two would rather be alone," she says slyly, showing off a devious grin. "And trust me, this wasn't my first choice for afternoon activities. But when I went to the bay window, the curtain was down. Did you guys know those curtains actually moved? I thought they were just decorative. I didn't even bother trying to see if it was locked. I did not want to get close to it. If Riley and Lucas were hanging out and made a point of closing the curtain…"

The shudder Maya gives is motivated by genuine horror.

Farkle smirks at her disdain, but he feels a similar sense of uneasiness at the harsh reality that the dynamic of their friend group is going to shift. He doesn't know how, and he doesn't know quite when, but at some point in the next three years it has to shuffle and shift and grow into something new. That's the nature of any community, and he knows he just has to handle it as best he can when it happens.

It's likely that Lucas and Riley's slowly evolving romantic relationship is going to be a catalyst in one way or another. Whether they intend for it to be or not is irrelevant. If locking Maya out of the bay window to spend some alone time together is the first step, Farkle is bracing himself for the meteor that's bound to be hurtling towards their little universe any day now.

He figures he could bring this up to Maya, or reference the harsh way she's been treating Lucas since the school year began (also a possible contender for the role of catalyst), but he chooses to ignore it for now. He's got bigger problems to focus on.

"Well, you're here. So you might as well make yourself useful." Farkle puts the skateboard back on the ground and steps onto it. He stabilizes himself on Smackle's shoulders, before locking eyes with her and nodding towards the steps. "You take a break. Maya's turn to do some heavy lifting."

Smackle nods, stepping back and gesturing for Maya to take over.

She does, reluctantly getting to her feet and groaning to make it clear how much effort this requires. They link hands and she begins lugging him down the sidewalk, severely less gentler than Smackle.

"Plant your foot when you push forward. Okay, don't break my hands here. Balance—God, Farkle, would you support yourself a little bit here?"

It takes less than a minute for Farkle to fall off the board. He shoves Maya away from him, climbing back to his feet. "Nevermind. I want Smackle back."

"Course you do."

Farkle scrapes the skateboard off the ground and wanders back over to the front steps, collapsing onto the them as Maya slings her backpack over her shoulder. "Look, just give Riley some time to cool off. You know she'll get over it. She always does."

He nods. "If it's for her friends, she'll do anything."

"Exactly. So relax." Maya walks backwards towards the subway, winking at Smackle. "Have fun trying to teach this idiot how to keep his balance."

"Goodbye, Maya," Smackle says with a chuckle, waving her off as she turns on her heel and disappears around the corner.

Farkle places the skateboard on the step in front of them, putting his foot on it and wheeling it back and forth absentmindedly. The two of them are quiet for a moment, not in any rush to fill the silence with conversation. It's one thing he appreciates about Smackle—they both understand the benefit of thoughtful silence every once and a while.

"You're always quiet when she's around," Farkle comments. "Maya."

"Am I?" Smackle asks curiously. She locks eyes with him, clasping her hands together on her lap. "I'm not purposefully being that way. I suppose she's imposing a personality enough that I feel as though I don't need to fill the air with anymore volume. Also, she sure knows how to dominate a conversation."

He smiles at her, leaning forward to rest his hand on top of hers. She gazes down at their hands gratefully. "She definitely does."

Smackle removes one hand from underneath his to lay it on top, lightly ghosting her fingers over the back of his hand. Farkle examines her, for some reason getting caught on her lips. He's been doing that a lot lately, ever since they had their first kiss a couple months back. There's no logic behind it, no reason. But every time they kiss he gets the urge to stare at her lips a little bit longer.

Maybe if studies them long enough, he'll discover all the secrets to emotionality. All the answers are hidden somewhere in her smile and the shades of red that color her lips.

"Farkle?" she says softly, obviously having asked him a question that he wasn't paying attention to. He clears his throat, nodding at her to go on. "I asked whether or not you'd figured out your hamartia yet. Since you've spent so much time working out everyone else's."

"Not yet. Haven't spent a lot of time working on it." He forces himself to raise his gaze from her mouth to meet her eyes. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You know I love it when you do."

He grins, adjusting slightly to face her more fully. He nearly slips on the skateboard in the process, earning a laugh from her as he kicks it out of the way. "Why did you agree with Riley? Do you really think she's right? That we can't see weakness in others?"

"Well, yes and no. That's essentially two separate questions."

"How so?"

Smackle pushes her glasses higher up on her nose, gazing out towards the park across the street. When she returns her hand to his, he gently links their fingers together. "I don't think we're not capable of seeing weakness in others. Certainly, that's not true. I can make observations about your behavior and assume particular traits are a detriment rather than an asset to your overall success."

"Yes. Thank you."

"But I think Riley's right in the sense that only each individual person can recognize what their own hamartia is. Like, even if you were right about Riley, or Zay, or Lucas, unless they admitted it to themselves they wouldn't be able to see it as such. We can help one another see our weaknesses, but it's up to the person with them to actively determine them as such." She exhales quietly. When her eyes meet his again, her expression is quizzical. "Does that make sense?"

He knows that he's supposed to be the people expert between the two of them, but he feels like she's always teaching him something new. She's rather perceptive, even if she doesn't believe it to be true. "It does, yeah. But why is Riley so upset?"

"I don't know about that. You're the observer of human nature. But if I had to hypothesize, I'd say she's probably offended that you think you can make such broad assumptions about them. This sort of assignment is deeply personal. Not to mention she has whatever you mentioned going on with Maya and Lucas, so she's likely hypersensitive at the moment."

Farkle nods, thinking. She's certainly right that a lot of Riley's frustration is probably stemming from factors that actually have very little to do with him, and she's simply taking it out on him because it's an available outlet. Luckily, he's not fazed by it, but does prefer to be on good terms with Riley rather than with her giving him the cold shoulder. Considering how genuinely kind she is, getting the silent treatment from Riley stings worse than it would from others.

"So if we can help others figure out their flaws," Farkle says slowly, tilting his head at her. "What do you think mine is?"

"Is this an appropriate conversation to have? You're not going to get upset if I'm honest, right? You're not going to leave."

"I would never leave," he assures her. It's a phrase they've said back and forth more than a couple of times in many different contexts, but it holds a lot of weight between the two of them for some reason Farkle doesn't think he'll ever quite understand. More of that emotional nonsense. But it's a comforting phrase for the both of them.

She breaks into a shy smile, glancing down at their hands. Farkle's distracted by her lips again until she continues speaking.

"I don't think Riley is necessarily wrong about the core of your weakness, but I don't think arrogance is the right word. The term I'd use is hubris."

"Hubris? Like pride?"

Smackle nods, choosing her words carefully as she goes on. "Pride so powerful it can bring even the most powerful of gods to their own destruction. Oedipus suffered from it, as did Achilles. There's a common phrase that stems from it. Pride goeth before the fall. Essentially, if you're unwilling to admit when you're wrong, that'll take you down before you ever get to be right in a meaningful way."

He hates the fact that despite encouraging her to be honest, the harsh bluntness of her hypothesis stings a little bit. It didn't bother him much when Riley accused him of being arrogant, but having Isadora Smackle think of him as prideful rubs him the wrong way. He doesn't want her to think of him that way.

"You're quiet," Smackle notes, watching him nervously. "I've said something wrong."

"No, no," he says thoughtfully, patting her hand. "I think you said just the right thing. I certainly have a lot to consider before class tomorrow."

She smiles. Giving her a tentative look, he leans forward and presses a quick kiss to her lips. When he pulls away, the smile is even wider than before. Just like holding hands and hugging, they're warming up to the kissing thing. They're figuring it out together.

"I didn't even bother to ask," he says after they've been silent for a few long moments, ruminating on the peck. "Have you completed the assignment?"

"Farkle, dearest, I'm me," she says matter-of-factly. "Do you even need to ask that question?"

He laughs. "Then let me rephrase it. What do you think your fatal flaw is?"

She pauses, her expression becoming pensive. It's quiet for a couple seconds. "No amount of intelligence felt very useful if I couldn't properly interface with others. Back at Einstein Academy, even though I was succeeding academically, I was worried about the fact that I didn't really understand how to get my thoughts across. And it was a little lonely. That would have eventually done my future a great disservice, I think."

She sighs, adjusting her glasses again out of habit. They lock eyes again and she smiles at the affectionate beam on his face.

Her grip tightens on his hand. "That's why I love spending time with you and Riley so much. All of them, really. I figure, everything I learn from you all is helping me overcome that. I'm already well on my way to overcoming my hamartia."

Farkle swallows, unsettled by the way his heart is pounding in his chest and the way his ears feel hot. But he sort of likes the feeling too. "I'm glad you like spending time with me."

"I always have."

He scoots closer to her, allowing her to link her arm around his and rest her head on his shoulder. They settle into contemplative silence again, Farkle placing his foot back on the skateboard and rolling it absentmindedly back and forth on the first step.

In class on Friday morning, the moment the bell rings Farkle is on his feet and heading towards the blackboard.

Cory places his hands on his hips. "I haven't even asked a question yet."

"Farkle time, sir," he says determinedly, grabbing the chalk from the tray and giving Cory a resolute look. "It's important."

For all his teaching tricks, Cory has never been one to argue against Farkle time. He raises his hands in surrender, wandering to the side of the classroom and leaning against the windowsill. Farkle catches Maya and Riley exchange a look as he turns to write a word on the board underneath hamartia. Once he's finished, he wipes the chalk dust from his hands and comes to stand in the front of the room, as they always do when they're giving a report.

"Hubris. Pride so powerful it brought down some of the greatest heroes in history. If I have a fatal flaw, this would be it."

Smackle gives him an inspiring smile. He clears his throat and steps forward to stand in front of Riley's desk, waiting for her to make eye contact with him.

"Standing up here and doing this, especially in front of the whole class, is killing me. Believe me when I say that. But I know it needs to be done." Farkle takes a deep breath, not breaking his gaze. "I was wrong. I'm not always right. And I think the first step to overcoming my own hamartia, rather than being destroyed by it, is to acknowledge that my friendships are more important than my sense of ego preservation."

After a long moment of examining him, Riley breaks into a satisfied grin. "Thank you. I know that was hard for you."

Cory comes up next to him, patting his back supportively. "Looks like you're on the right track, Farkle. Take a seat."

He does, sliding back into his desk. He feels Smackle tap the back of his head, grinning instinctively and swiveling around to face her. She blows him a kiss.

"How about the rest of you? How did the assignment go? Riley? Maya?" He makes his way down the aisle, stopping amidst the six of them. "Lucas?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Lucas admits. He glances around at the rest of the class, folding his hands together. "I couldn't figure it out in time."

A few other students nod in agreement. Zay shrugs apathetically.

Cory leans forward and touches the edge of his desk, raising his eyebrows. "You know what? That's okay. It's okay that you don't know yet."

"Oh, thank God," Maya exhales. "Getting a failing grade for an assignment I actually tried on was going to be a rough experience."

Cory shoots her an amused glare, straightening back up and heading back towards the front of the classroom. "As I said, this isn't necessarily something you can discover in a week's time. It takes years, decades sometimes. A whole lot of self-evaluation. But I wanted to get you all started on the path now, because once you do discover it, the awareness that comes with it can give you a whole new perspective on things."

"But what if it destroys us?" Riley asks, insecurity coloring her features. "What if it destroys us before we can figure it out?"

"It won't. Because you have a whole classroom of friends here who are going to help you figure it out before it comes to that. Even though it's an introspective process, you don't have to tackle it alone."

Riley absorbs this, glancing over her shoulder to glance at Lucas and Maya. The six of them exchange knowing smirks. Just as they've tackled everything else that's come at them so far, they'll handle their fatal flaws together. Farkle knows this, even if he'll have to sacrifice a little bit of pride along the way.

The morning after the meteorite hits them that summer, Farkle heads to the bay window to check in on Riley. Considering what he'd heard from Maya the night before, he figures it's within his best interest to get her side of the story.

The curtain isn't drawn when he climbs up the fire escape and kneels in front of the bay window, tapping against the glass. Riley appears from the other side of the room where the door is, opening the pane and stepping back to let him climb in.

"Hey," Farkle says casually, hopping into the seat and looking around. "Lucas here?"

"Uh, no," she replies distractedly, wandering over to the bed and straightening out the covers in a nervous fashion. "He's coming over later."

"Ah."

Riley settles down on the edge of the bed, twiddling with the jellybean necklace around her neck. She chews her lip, only lifting her eyes to look at him after the silence becomes unbearable. They have a tacit exchange, sort of mentally catching up to everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours.

Her lower lip trembles. "I'm assuming Maya told you."

"She visited, yes."

Riley opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Farkle gets up from his spot in the bay window and joins her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders bracingly. She exhales shakily, wiping her eyes frantically.

"I didn't think she was going to just walk out," she croaks, trying very hard not to cry.

Farkle tightens his arm around her in a side hug. "Maya's got to figure out her own stuff now. Based on what she told me and what I witnessed all year, I don't think you're necessarily in the wrong. You made a decision, even worse that it was one you shouldn't have been forced to make. Now, both of you have to live with it and see how it pans out. She's just hurt because she thinks you're choosing Lucas over her."

"But that's not what this is!" Riley snaps, throwing her hands up in the air before dropping them back against her legs. "I'm not choosing either of them over the other. I'm just trying to balance them both, but she's made it this thing where it's either/or. I never wanted it to be that way."

"I know that."

"And when I told her last night, it wasn't about choosing Lucas. It was…" She takes a long, calming breath. Regardless, her voice still cracks when she continues. "I couldn't let her dominate my relationship with Lucas. And it wasn't fair of her to be so mean to him all year."

"I know that, too."

She sighs, hiding her head in her hands. Farkle is genuinely sorry to see things panning out this way, even though he's not surprised. If anyone deserved to be spared of emotional turmoil, it would be Riley Matthews without a doubt.

"I still love her. She's still my best friend. But she doesn't seem to think that's possible."

"She just needs space," Farkle says diplomatically. "To be honest, I think this separation will be good for the two of you. Give you time to figure both of yourselves out. Then, when you come back together—,"

"What if we don't?"

"When you come back together," Farkle repeats, assuaging her concerns with emphasis. "You'll be able to talk things out. Look at it with a clear head. Come out stronger than you were before. If I've learned anything about emotions in the last few years, that would be my best hypothesis."

Riley glances at him, smiling gratefully at him despite the dewy look in her eyes. She leans her head on his shoulder. Farkle is very aware of how different the gesture feels coming from her rather than Smackle. With Riley, it's commonplace. When it's Isadora, it's far more significant.

He still doesn't understand how a person can make an identical action feel so dissimilar.

"You know," Farkle says briskly, aiming for a change of subject. "I think I figured out your hamartia."

Riley pulls away from him, giving him a warning glare. "You're not going to lecture me, are you? I'm not in the mood."

"No. I'm just offering guidance this time. Not trying to teach you a lesson." When her guard lowers and her features soften again, he continues. "Altruism."

"Definition, please? Could you use it in a sentence?"

"Altruism. Noun. The belief in selflessness and putting others needs before your own." Farkle watches as realization dawns on her. With the meaning, she suddenly understands exactly why he brought it up. It's obvious she's familiar with the term. "You're one of the best friends I've ever known, Riley. You always put us before yourself. The whole Texas debacle is one thing. You tearing yourself apart to keep both Lucas and Maya happy while she's waging war against him is another. You'd set yourself on fire just to keep the rest of us warm."

A tear manages to slip down her cheek. She wipes it away furiously with the heel of her hand. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It's a good thing. So is pride, in a lot of ways. But too much of it can destroy you. That's where the 'fatal' comes into fatal flaw. You burn yourself up to give us warmth, but you melt away in the process. Don't melt away, Riley."

She exhales with a laugh. The smile she offers him is strained. "I'll try."

"Don't worry. I think with this whole thing with Maya, you're on the right track. Standing up for yourself is the first step." He returns her smile. "Hopefully, you and I both are well on our way to tackling our hamartia."

The hug she gives him is full of warmth. More of the firelight she's burning herself up to produce.

As he's climbing out the bay window, she leans out after him. "Farkle?"

"Riley?"

She hesitates. "You'll keep an eye on Maya, right?"

It's not even a question. Farkle nods sharply. "I will."

He climbs down the fire escape, grabbing the skateboard he stashed in the bushes and stepping back onto the sidewalk. Slapping the board on the ground in front of him, he starts a tentative roll towards the subway station. He's still a beginner, but he's learning the ropes.

Bracing himself for the worst, he skates down the sidewalk towards the uncertain prospects of the year ahead. In the midst of the world boiling around them in the aftermath of the meteorite, he's determined that they're going to make it out alive.

11

Junior year is the year Farkle Minkus learns about perception.

He's always considered himself a rather discerning person, and seeing how his friends always get miffed at how well he can figure them all out he knows he's got some knack for it. But as the prequel to senior year begins and everything gets harder—classes, relationships, maintaining some semblance of sanity—Farkle decides he wants to explore as many different perspectives as he can.

So when Maya and Zay invite him along to the latest party at Wyatt's, he certainly doesn't say no.

Even though he has Riley's nagging voice in his head the first time he takes a drag from the communal joint of marijuana ("There's absolutely no way that's sanitary, what if you get mono?"), he manages to convince himself that he's just experimenting. That's what they're supposed to do while they're young, after all.

By the time he actually starts to feel any effects he's thinking about how if the Beatles had never tried weed, then Abbey Road probably wouldn't exist, or Revolver, not to mention Dark Side of the Moon. If Pink Floyd can get stoned and find some dazzling musical genius waiting in the back of their heads, then Farkle figures there's something locked away in the back of his brain just screaming to be unlocked. If drugs are going to do the trick to get it free, so be it.

Although nothing brilliant suddenly dawns on him like a great epiphany, he finds the trip fun for the most part and isn't hesitant to tag along with Maya and Zay to more parties in the future. In some ways, it feels nice to be included in the hubbub of the popular scene. When he hangs out with the two of them, there's always something exciting and crazy happening. It's never boring, to say the least.

He also spends a lot of time at home in his room, sparking up in an attempt to perfect the craft and be able to use it when he needs a blast of inspiration. It becomes sort of a pattern for him—he drops Smackle off, heads home, puts on Beck and zones out. Waiting for the epiphany. Waiting for something extraordinary to happen.

All that aside, however, he's still keeping up on his schoolwork and maintaining his promise to Riley. He's always got one eye on Maya at every party they go to, making sure she doesn't push it too far. He doesn't know exactly what's going on with Brett Ryan, but Zay assures him that nothing too serious has happened and that he'll keep informed in case something does.

Surprisingly, though, Riley doesn't seem too preoccupied with Maya's shenanigans. If Farkle's perception hasn't been skewed too badly by the drugs, he's pretty sure she seems to be spending a lot more time worrying about Lucas. Which doesn't make sense, because he seems fine to him.

In AP Biology that afternoon, Farkle jots down some notes for another class while daydreaming about what the party at Sarah's is going to be like that evening. He only looks up when Smackle elbows him, nodding eagerly towards the front of the room.

"Tests. Tests are coming back."

"Oh, nice," Farkle says, giving Lucas a smirk across from him. "Hoffman's probably giving them back a little early so we can use them to study for the midterm. You know, presuming we'd need to study."

"Ha," Lucas says, looking immediately back down at his binder.

Farkle grins pleasantly at Hoffman as he hands them their tests, flipping his over to glance at his grade. Perfect score, just as he expected. He exchanges a look with Smackle, who smiles as well and shows off her hundred percent.

"How'd you do, Lucas?" Smackle asks, watching as Lucas stuffs the test into the folder of his binder.

"Huh?" He crumbles the edges as he rushes to put it away. "Oh, fine. You know, whatever."

Farkle leans forward to pull the exam from the binder pocket but Lucas yanks it out of his reach. He raises his eyebrows at him. "Come on, let us see."

"It's my test. I don't have to show you if I don't want to."

"This is like the third test you've refused to show us. Come on."

Smackle watches with slight amusement as Farkle practically launches himself over the lab tables, Lucas dangling the binder just out of his reach. "Really, Lucas. There's no shame in getting good grades. I know you're modest, but you're among friends. We should share in each other's successes."

"It's okay, I'm fine being modest. We'll stick with that."

The bell rings, releasing them for the day. Lucas darts from his chair the moment he can, leaving Smackle and Farkle to pack up on their own. They join hands as they head out into the hallway, sauntering towards the front lobby where they always meet up with the others to walk to the subway.

"What are your weekend plans?" Smackle asks, grinning a little bit when he drops his head down slightly to listen to her better. Although he knows her height is something she's a bit insecure about, he enjoys the fact that she seems to find their height difference a positive in their relationship rather than a negative.

He hums. "Maya, Zay, and I are going to this thing at Sarah's tonight. Then, Saturday afternoon, I have this executive lunch with my father. He's meeting with all this sponsors from the east coast chains to try and strike up some partnerships. Figure I should if I want to inherit the family business someday."

"Sarah? Why Sarah?"

"Location, mostly." They stroll to a stop under the giant clock on the wall of the lobby. Farkle leans back against the wall and brushes some hair behind Smackle's ear. He can't help but think about what Zay asked him earlier in the day—about whether or not Smackle actually minds him going out to party every weekend. She's never said anything, but now that she's asking he can't help but wonder. "You know, I could use a companion for the luncheon. My dad said I could bring a guest."

Smackle smiles bashfully, raising an eyebrow interestedly. "I'm assuming you have someone in mind?"

"I guess," he says teasingly, feeling a weird flutter in his chest as Smackle reaches up to straighten out the collar of his jacket. "Depends on whether she wants to spend an entire afternoon with her intellectual inferior."

"I am fairly certain there is nothing she would rather spend an afternoon doing." After a moment, Smackle glances around them and leans in close to whisper. "We are talking about me, right?"

Farkle laughs, closing the space between them to give her a peck on the lips.

Maya and Zay approach just as they're pulling apart, making an assortment of disgusted noises. "Please, we're just children," Maya whines. "Spare us."

Things get out of hand at Sarah's studio rager, and although he doesn't know all the details Farkle can tell it's bad by the way things shape up over the next few days.

Smackle is rather short with him at the luncheon, but they're constantly being accosted by rich executive friends of his father and he hardly has the chance to pull her aside and talk to her about it. It's not until they're heading home and he's walking her back to her apartment that he finally gets the opportunity to confront her about it.

They stand in front of the steps to her door. She clears her throat, giving him a tight smile and squeezing his hand. "Thank you for inviting me. I had a wonderful time."

"You're welcome." He leans forward to press a kiss to her cheek, noticing when she doesn't immediately smile like she usually does. She starts to pull her hand away but he holds on tight. "Wait. Is something wrong?"

"No. Why would something be wrong?"

"You've been cold like this entire afternoon. Metaphorically, not literally. You barely said more than fifteen words to me the whole lunch." She drops her gaze down to the floor, avoiding eye contact. He dips his head down to get her attention again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Not exactly."

He blinks. "Not exactly? What are you talking about?"

"Do you not remember last night? Anything that happened last night?"

A wave of uncertainty rushes through him like electricity. They're parlaying into emotional territory, the one area of expertise he hasn't mastered and doesn't trust himself to handle properly. And the fact of the matter is, he has no idea what she's referring to. He was so stoned last night, he doesn't remember when he left the party or even if Maya and Zay got home okay.

"What are you talking about?"

Smackle bites her lip anxiously, guiding him to the stairs so that they can sit. She still avoids his eyes, staring at the railing over his shoulder instead. "I don't know all the details about everyone else, but something definitely went down last night. Riley called me last night saying that Lucas hadn't answered her in a while. But he didn't go to the party with you all, or at least I thought, so I called you to see if you knew where he was."

Farkle swallows, horror setting in. "You called me?"

"Yes. I suppose maybe I shouldn't have."

"Did I…" Farkle isn't sure he wants to know the answer to his question. "Did I answer?"

"You did. You sounded very far-off, though. I'm assuming that would be the intoxication speaking."

"Oh my God." He doesn't like the way his palms are sweating. "I didn't… I didn't say anything bad, did I?"

"Oh, no," she assures him, patting his hand tentatively. "As I said, you didn't do anything. It was just… weird. Talking to you, but not really talking to you. I don't know, it doesn't make a lot of logical sense to me either."

He doesn't know what to say. Smackle finally meets his eyes, giving him a soft smile.

"I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with experimenting, Farkle. I think in some ways, it's something we're supposed to do. I don't want you to feel like you've done something wrong. Especially if you enjoy it." She hesitates, dropping her eye contact again as she stumbles over her words. "I just miss you. That's all."

He hardly has time to process all of what he's just been told when she leans forward to kiss his cheek, getting to her feet and removing her hand from his. "See you on Monday."

She leaves him sitting on the steps alone, feeling closer to an epiphany than the weed ever got him. But he's not liking the taste of realization.

Come Monday, it's definitely apparent that something went down on Friday night.

Maya and Zay aren't saying anything, but both of them are shaken and not talking excitedly about any future weekend activities. Zay outright refuses to speak on the subject, claiming that he just went a little too hard and there's nothing more to discuss. But it's not really the two of them that sets off alarm bells in his head.

It's the fact that Lucas is sporting more than a couple bruises and a busted lip, and no one seems to have any clue where he got them. Not even Riley.

Of course, Wyatt has the rumor mill churning by third period that afternoon, but Farkle knows the best way to get the facts is to go to the closest primary source. He knows Lucas won't talk, so he corners Maya in the hallway before lunch hour.

"I know you know what happened to Lucas," Farkle demands, using his height to his advantage to block Maya's escape routes as she tries to dash away from him. He may be lanky, but he's got six feet of nerve and gangly limbs to help him catch her if she fakes him out.

She rolls her eyes, moving to sidestep him but he's quicker. "Whatever goes on with Lucas is his business. If he's fighting that's not my problem."

"It is your problem. Partially because you know why it happened, I know you do. But also because if something is happening to Lucas, it's happening to all of us. That's the way we work. You know this."

"When was the last time we were actually a group?" Maya snaps, locking eyes with him. Despite the harsh demeanor, he knows she's still stinging from the fallout last summer and that's where the anger stems from. "Look, if Lucas wanted people to know why he looks like the stunt double from a bad remake of Rocky, he'd tell them. So why don't you go ask him?"

"Maya," he says insistently, taking her arms to keep her from squirming away. He waits for her to meet his eyes. "I don't have to be a genius to figure out that whatever happened to him has to do with the fact that you and Zay keep getting wilder and wilder every time you go out. I know this is all just fun and games to you. But don't you think maybe things are getting a little bit out of hand?"

She blinks at him, torn between tearing down her walls and putting up more defenses. The moment her brow furrows, Farkle knows he's lost her and she's going for the latter.

Maya wrenches out of his grasp, backing a bit down the hallway. "You're really telling me about going too far? Really, Farkle?" She laughs, shaking her head. "Why should I take advice from you?"

"Because I'm your friend."

"So? You're the last person I should take advice from. You're just… you're just a pothead!"

Although he promised himself to remain rational, this dig from one of his closest friends hurts in a way he wasn't anticipating. He swallows, straightening his posture and jutting his chin out. "If that's what you think, then fine."

Maya stares at him, absorbing the recoil from her own words. She shakes her head again, starting to back away. "I'm just gonna go. I'm gonna walk away."

Farkle watches her go. "I'm just looking out for you, Maya."

She glances at him over her shoulder. Her eyes are dangerously bright.

"I can take care of myself."

With that, she stalks around the corner and disappears from view. Farkle has to wonder if he'll ever see her again, or if she'll take that stride out of his life for good. It's Maya. He could never be completely certain one way or the other.

When the weekend rolls around, Farkle doesn't go to the parties popping up all around the city. He doesn't answer the inquisitive text from Zay asking whether or not he's going to turn out. He lays on his bed and stares at the constellations on his ceiling, trying to figure out how to move forward and where he goes from here.

The stars always know where they're supposed to go. They follow a clear path, determined by the cosmos and gravity and not by their own free will. Farkle supposes he's the lucky one, able to carve out his own path. But as far as junior year is concerned, it doesn't feel like a very nice burden to carry.

Breaking his resolve, Farkle jumps to his feet and grabs his jacket and keys. Heading out the door with his skateboard, he goes straight for the subway and tries to let gravity pull him in the direction he needs to go. When he emerges from the station and walks a little ways down the street, he finds himself standing just where he figured he'd end up.

Right outside the Matthews apartment building.

He uses the age old trick of claiming he's the pizza guy to get someone else to buzz him in, because he's not completely sure he's not going to get to their front door and then bolt at the last second. He did sort of ditch Riley in favor of Maya, and even though he knows she doesn't mind he doesn't feel all that great about it.

He knocks at the door anyway.

When Riley pulls open the door, she looks genuinely shocked to see him standing there. Her eyes are wide with surprise. "Farkle? What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too," he mumbles. Glancing over her shoulder, he sees Lucas and Smackle sitting at the dining table just like he assumed they'd be. Smackle whips around to lock eyes with him, just as surprised as Riley. "Can I come in?"

She steps back without hesitation, gesturing for him to walk in. He does, making his way over to the table and plopping down on the bench next to Smackle. It's silent for a long moment as Riley makes her way back, sitting back down next to Lucas.

Farkle stares at the biology books on the table in front of them, notes spread out. He glances at Smackle's, somewhat messy but distinguishable enough. Across from hers, Lucas's are neatly organized but smudged with eraser dustings. He must've erased certain words like a thousand times.

He never takes notes. He wonders if maybe he should.

"Farkle?" Smackle prods, sensing he's there for a reason.

"I've been out of it this year," he admits, barreling through the emotions like he always does. It's hard to say, so he just rushes through it and hopes for the best. "I know that. I think I got what I needed out of the experience, and it was worth it overall. But I've learned what I needed to learn."

Riley tilts her head at him, smiling lightly. "All done experimenting?"

"Experimenting? Never. And sorry Riley, but I like weed. I'm not gonna apologize for that." She giggles at him. "But I don't think I need to dedicate my entire year to it. Think I'm ready to come back home."

Smackle nudges him slightly, getting him to look at her. "Why did you come here?"

He examines her for a long moment, casting a glance at Lucas and Riley before breaking into a smirk. He drapes his arm around her shoulder. "I just miss you. That's all."

There's nothing scientific about it, but he decides that her smile is his favorite thing in the world. Marijuana is one thing, but Isadora Smackle is something else.

"What about Zay?" Lucas asks, breaking his silence. Focusing on him, it's still somewhat of a jolt to see the healing bruises on his face. But underneath the now tougher-looking exterior, the soft concern of the Lucas Farkle knows very well is still obviously apparent. "I mean, is he okay?"

"And Maya."

Farkle bites his lip, placing his hand on the table and tapping his fingers. "I don't know what's going on with them," he admits. "But they've got each other. I can assure you of that."

Riley locks eyes with Lucas, bringing her hand up to take his on the table in front of them. Normally, this sort of public display of affection would warrant a comment of some kind, but Farkle keeps quiet. He knows they're both really struggling with being apart from their best friends. No matter how necessary it is for the four of them.

She turns her eyes to him. "You'll still watch out for her. Right? As best as you can?"

It's not even a question. Farkle nods. "I will. Always."

Riley's smile is soft. She kicks him lightly under the table—a gesture of thanks.

Farkle allows Smackle to scoot closer to him, leaning forward to pull the notes towards him. "So, what are we working on? Single-celled organisms? Mitosis? Didn't realize this was a big old study session."

"You don't have to help," Lucas says quickly, trying to avoid the subject.

Farkle lifts his head to meet his eyes, making him hold his gaze. "If you need help, you can tell me. I'll help you study. We'll get you to pass this class. You have my word on that, and I'm as good as my word."

Smackle nods. "He's pretty good on his word."

Lucas hesitates, only betraying a small smile after a long moment of uncertainty. "Thanks."

"Of course. Now, let's get cracking. Someone get me a coffee. This is going to be a long night."

Farkle is grateful that by the time the summer before senior year is staring them in the face, the group manages to find their way back together again. He had the feeling they would in the end—stars always know where they're supposed to go—but it's a relief when it seems as though everything is going to be back to the way things were. Only better, because they've grown.

It wasn't easy or smooth-sailing, of course. He doesn't know the details, but whatever that went on with Lucas and made him disappear back to Texas to a month threw Riley and Zay through a real loop. He and Smackle don't spend too much obsessing over it the way Maya does—they both know that whatever Lucas did, he had a serious reason for doing so. He'd come back when he was ready. Farkle believed in that, if nothing else.

And come back he did. The day that Farkle came by to check on Riley and saw the bay window curtain closed, he figured he had to have finally returned. He sent a text to Riley asking if Lucas was okay and left it at that. He'd see them soon enough.

Once all of the drama from the previous year seemed to have been resolved, all there was left was the last year of their high school careers just beyond the horizon. And with that thought in mind, Farkle makes a point of crossing off any last minute things he wants to do while he's here, with these people, in this place they've been practically their whole lives.

One of those last minute things is getting Lucas Friar high.

"You can't go into college with absolutely no experience," Zay argues as they're sitting on the floor in Farkle's room. "Like, I get it, you don't want to party. You don't trust alcohol. I get that, I do. But you can't go into college with nothing to show for it because what happens when you eat a pot brownie and don't realize it? I can't spend my entire college career worrying about you, man. Because you know I will."

Lucas, arms wrapped around his knees and looking about as closed off as he can possibly managed, gives Zay a deadpan look. "You absolutely will not. You'll be too busy chasing down whatever girls will give you the time of day."

"Hey, now."

Farkle snorts, finishing up rolling the joint and giving Zay a sympathetic look. "Don't take it personally. You know how Lucas gets when he's nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

"I'm not nervous. I'm not afraid of anything! Let's go Charlie Gardner, let me destroy you at the couples game!"

Farkle cracks up. Lucas shoves Zay lightly and he holds his hands up in surrender. Once they've stopped kicking at each other, Farkle grabs his lighter from the floor next to him and lights the joint, taking the first drag. "It's not scary, Lucas. I promise. You're just here with me and Zay, and they say you should experiment with this stuff in a safe space. What safer space is there than the two of us?"

Zay nods in agreement, giving Lucas an encouraging smile. "We're here for you, man. We just want you to try it."

"This is peer pressure."

"Yes, it is. Well spotted."

Farkle takes another drag, exhaling and raising his eyebrows. "You know I can do smoke rings."

"I don't believe you. That's some bullshit."

He takes one more drag and exhales the smoke in as creative a way as he possibly can. Lucas looks mildly horrified. Zay just looks miffed. "Alright. Okay, show off, we get it."

Farkle holds out the joint for Lucas to take. "Your turn."

He looks back and forth between the two of them, Zay's excited nod finally breaking him. "Fine, fine."

Farkle and Zay cheer, applauding him as he makes an attempt to take a first puff. It takes him a minute to figure out how to do it and Zay is already cackling at his expense. When he finally inhales he immediately starts coughing, covering his mouth and grimacing.

"Ah, listen to those baby coughs. So pure and clean," Farkle jokes.

Zay whips the joint from his fingers, leaning back and getting a hit of his own. "Look at him. He looks like a dog when it's eaten something sticky and can't get the taste out of its mouth."

It's a surprisingly accurate description. Lucas is sitting there, squinting in distaste and licking his lips repeatedly. "That's disgusting. That was so gross."

"Ah, you get used to it," Farkle comments. Zay hums in agreement, taking another hit.

Lucas glares at him, before lunging forward and taking the joint back. "Give me that."

They laugh and whoop again as Lucas takes another drag, even though he looks as though he'd rather throw up. But he pushes through, shaking his head disdainfully. "When is this supposed to work, exactly?"

"Give it a little time, dude," Farkle says sagely, returning the joint back to his possession. "Give it time."

Time given, by the time all of them are actually somewhat under the influence Lucas turns out to be surprisingly talkative. He goes off on a tangent about horses for about five minutes before they somehow get the topic back on the girls. Zay hasn't stopped chuckling for the last ten minutes.

Lucas leans his head back against the side of the bed, exhaling loudly. "I just cannot believe like… Can you believe there was a legitimate love triangle in our friend group? We lived a love triangle."

"Um, you lived a love triangle," Farkle corrects him. "Keep me out of that nonsense."

"But listen," he says urgently, sitting up and reaching out to pat Farkle's arm to get his attention. "Like, listen. The wildest thing is like, how much of the triangle didn't make any sense? Like, Maya didn't care about me half the time, really, and we know I didn't care about her. So what were we really doing anyway? And then all the bullshit that followed in sophomore year with Riley, it's just like…"

He stops talking abruptly, his jaw dropping open slightly. Zay and Farkle exchange a concerned look, both slapping his arms to shake him out of it. "What?"

"Oh my God!" Lucas shouts, shifting restlessly from his spot on the floor and pointing to himself. His eyes are wider than Farkle has ever seen them. "I wasn't the point in the triangle. Riley was! The triangle was about Riley! Me versus Maya for Riley!"

Farkle isn't completely sure this statement is true, but Lucas delivers the truth bomb with such gusto that it's hard not to believe it. That, and the drugs.

"This is a god damn breakthrough!" Zay yells.

Lucas slumps back against the bed again, completely dumbstruck by his epiphany. Farkle is a little jealous he still hasn't had his mind-blowing realization yet, but he hopes it's a little more groundbreaking than this one.

All the sudden, Lucas sits up and rummages through his pocket. "You know what I wanna do? I wanna call Riley."

Farkle immediately tries to stop him. "Are you sure you wanna—?"

Zay lunges forward and slaps Farkle's hand away, an entertained gleam in his eyes. "Let him do it. Please, let him call Riley."

Lucas is already dialing the number, lifting the phone to his ear and leaning back against the bed again. He gives the two of them an impatient look, tapping his feet against the floor. "Fuck, why does this thing just ring forever?"

"That's how a phone works."

Zay snorts. "Put it on speaker. Put it on speaker now."

"Riley? Hey," Lucas says, his entire face lighting up at her voice. Farkle figures he'd light up at Riley no matter how much influence he was put under. He makes a mental note to draft an experiment. "I just had the biggest realization. You're never going to believe this."

There's a pause as Riley responds on the other end. Zay kicks at Lucas, mouthing for him to put the phone on speaker.

Lucas shoves him off, making an effort to fumble with the phone and put it on speaker. "Fuck, why is this so hard to use," he mutters, finally managing to hit the right button.

"What?" Riley's voice echoes through the room. "Lucas, are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" he asks loudly. "Riley, I'm good. I'm so good. I'm so good! How are you? Are you okay? You doing okay?"

"I'm fine," she says slowly. "You said you had a realization?"

"Did I?" Lucas lays the phone on the floor, flopping onto his stomach and propping his chin on his hand. "I can't even fucking remember. But listen. Listen."

"I'm listening."

"Okay, but, listen." Lucas takes a deep breath, obviously trying to formulate some very important thought into words. "Oh my God, I love you."

Zay is trying very hard not to laugh out loud. He hides his head in his sweatshirt, physically shaking from silent hysterics.

"Like, I'm in love with you. Holy shit."

Riley is silent for a long moment. "I love you, too. Are you sure you're okay?"

Lucas presses his hand to his forehead, legitimately overwhelmed with the topic at hand. He shakes his head, speechless. Farkle isn't completely sure he's not about to cry. "You're just like… you're like a sheep. You're a soft, little sheep."

"Um, okay. Thank you?"

"You're a sheep, wow." Lucas sighs. "Wow, I love sheep."

Marijuana and secondhand embarrassment is truly a combination like no other. Farkle covers his mouth and tucks his forehead against his knee, trying to keep quiet. Zay is practically losing it, curled up on the floor and crying from holding back his laughter.

"Lucas? You'd tell me if you weren't okay, right?"

"Of course I would!" Lucas sits up, cradling the phone in his hand and collapsing back against the bed once more. He kind of looks like he wants the hug the phone, as if it'll be the same as hugging her. "Riley, I would never keep something from you. Not anymore. Listen. I have to go. But I love you. Okay? You know that? I love you."

"I know that. I love you, too."

"Okay. Good. I love you. Just… I love you."

Riley barely gets a goodbye in before he hangs up, tossing the phone on the ground and releasing a loud sigh. He clasps his hands together and stares at the wall for a long moment, completely deadpan. Farkle is the first one to break the silence.

"You called her a sheep."

Lucas glances at him. "I did."

Immediately, the three of them burst into hysterical laughter. Farkle has an epiphany in that moment—not a grand one, not the realization, but he realizes that no matter happens in the future he's got this group. They're his constellation, and they're always going to lead him in the right direction eventually.

Nothing like a little experimentation in perception to make an important discovery.

12

Senior year is the year Farkle Minkus learns about loss.

He gets the logistics of it, obviously. Something you once had, you no longer have. It's taken from you, in one way or another. The absence of something that once felt permanent. He understand what loss is, he knows the definition, there's not exactly a whole lot to learn.

Back at the end of junior year, he can remember poking fun at Lucas when he got so upset over one of his twenty-four houses passing away. Not an outright jab, considering the sensitive subject matter, but it did seem a little ridiculous to be so distraught over an animal that he hadn't seen in over three years.

Besides, emotions have never been Farkle's thing, and he figures loss is sort of one of those things that's steeped dangerously in them. Not something he wants to get into.

But loss certainly wants to come after him. It comes when he's least expecting it, while he's dragged to their senior year homecoming game by the rest of the group.

They're deep in the student section, Lucas, Riley, Maya, and Zay decked out in their best red attire and cheering at the top of their lungs. Smackle is next to him, dressed normally but sporting a red headband for some semblance of belonging. The marching band is conveniently right next to them on the bleachers, so it's impossible to hear anything. It's a miracle any of them aren't deaf.

Also a miracle is the fact that Farkle feels his phone vibrate in his pocket at all. He pulls it out, seeing his father light up on the caller ID and lifting the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Farkle, are you—?"

Something happens on the field and cheers erupt from the student body around him. He scowls, squeezing his way through the crowd and heading towards the stairs of the bleachers. "What? I can't hear you."

"You need to—!" Another roar from the student section. "Something—!"

Farkle leaps off the last step and treads off the main path where game patrons are filing in and out. The band blares the fight song. He has to plug his other ear with his finger to have even a chance of catching anything his dad is saying.

"Dad, I can't hear you. What's going on?"

"Farkle, your grandfather just passed away. You need to come home immediately. Right now."

He almost drops the phone. It almost slips from his fingers onto the dirt at his feet. The band suddenly doesn't sound so loud anymore. It seems kind of far away. His hands feel numb. There's this lump in the back of his throat, and he feels a little bit like he's having a heart attack.

Before he knows it, a hand clamps on his shoulder and suddenly Lucas, Riley, and Smackle are around him. He must look messed up if they spotted his expression from all the way up the bleachers.

Riley steps in front of him, saying something to him. He doesn't catch it right away. He's pretty sure he hasn't hung up the phone yet.

"Farkle? What's wrong?"

"I have to go," he chokes out. He wiggles out of Lucas's grasp and slides between Riley and Smackle, shaking his head slightly. "I have to get home. I have to go."

The three of them watch him go, but don't make any move to stop him.

Your grandfather passed away.

The words rattle around in his skull, but for some reason his brain won't process them. His genius brain, capable of anything, suddenly isn't working.

It's a tough week in the immediate aftermath of hearing the news.

Riley and Maya are surprised to hear that he and his grandfather were so close, but Smackle doesn't seem surprised. She points out that he's always very protective of the things that are very important to him—he doesn't like to share them. To her, it's no shock at all that he's so torn up over this.

Still, it's a shock to him. It's more emotion than he's ever had to handle at one time, even more than when he realized he loved Smackle. Even more, and a lot less fulfilling. This type of emotion is just draining, and he finds himself wanting to spend more time alone ruminating over it than actively trying to combat it.

He starts going to school earlier in the morning, hoping to avoid the discussion and pseudo-therapy session with Riley on the subway. He knows she's just trying to help, but he can't stomach her optimism at the moment. She may be the expert on emotions, but this is something he's sure he wants to understand.

With his grandfather's funeral service right around the corner, however, he figures he's going to have to soon enough.

Wandering the school grounds early that Friday morning, he's surprised to see a familiar figure there at the crack of dawn as well. Lucas is sitting alone up in the bleachers, squinting through the mist and staring out at the dull, grey New York winter morning.

"Lucas?" Farkle calls as he climbs the stairs, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

It takes a couple of moments for Lucas to come back down to Earth from wherever his mind was. He blinks at him, smiling when he recognizes him. "Hey, Farkle."

"Hey." He slides down onto the bleacher next to him. "What are you doing here?"

Lucas shrugs, adjusting the sleeves of his jean jacket restlessly. "I like to come up here sometimes. Just think. It's quiet, you know?"

Farkle nods, glancing around at the barren field around them. It's crazy, how dead the place can be despite being so filled with noise and life during games. "Sure is."

They sit in the silence. Time seems to pass more quickly up in the bleachers. Farkle clasps his hands together and rests them on his knee, clearing his throat. "Lucas?"

He hums.

"I'm sorry that I made fun of you for getting upset about your horse. You know, when she passed."

"Sophia," Lucas automatically fills in, tilting his head to look at him. "I wasn't mad at you."

"I know. Still sorry. I just… didn't get it."

Lucas examines him for a second, smiling softly. "Okay. Apology accepted."

More silence. Farkle's impressed by how unimposing the silence feels. He suddenly understand why Riley likes spending so much time alone with Lucas. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Normally, I'd say yes. But your favors tend to be weird and involve experimentation, so depends."

This gets a chuckle of Farkle. Lucas grins at him.

"My grandfather's funeral service is this weekend." Farkle hesitates. "I was wondering if maybe you'd come with me."

"Me?" Lucas gives him a skeptical look. "I didn't know your grandpa."

"I know," Farkle says quietly. He props his foot up on the bleacher in front of them, slipping slightly on the condensation. "But you know me. And you're good with this stuff, you know. All of it."

"Emotions?"

"Yeah, that."

There's a long pause. Lucas nods, nudging his arm. "I'd be honored."

Farkle gives him an appreciative smile. They settle back into silence, letting the mist coat them until life returns back to campus for the school day.

With his friends' help, Farkle comes around to dealing with loss.

It's not easy, and it doesn't happen right away. He still finds himself wounded even months after the fact, if he thinks about it at the wrong time of day or gets reminded of his grandfather in a way he wasn't anticipating. But Lucas and Riley are there to give him guidance, and Smackle is there to comfort him without any lesson involved.

Until she isn't. Until Farkle makes the decision to push her away.

All the statistics make it very clear that long distance doesn't work out. It doesn't work, and it ends in nasty, vicious ways and he doesn't ever want to see that happen to him and Smackle. He never wants anything like that to befall Isadora Smackle.

So he steps back. Like he said he would if it was ever necessary, he steps back.

Thankfully, the college decision process distracts him from the harsh reality of how much separating from her stings. He's torn between Princeton and Washington University, only he hasn't actually told anybody about this divide and everyone has basically made up their minds that he's going to Princeton. Especially his father, who he doesn't want to disappoint.

He doesn't want to disappoint anyone. But as Riley and Maya keep telling him, the person he should be most focused on not disappointing is himself.

At the end of his rope, he takes Riley's seemingly convoluted advice and takes a trip to the cemetery one afternoon. It's a particularly creepy place and Farkle isn't fond of it, but it's where his grandfather now rests so he figures he should get used to it.

He picks his way through the assorted graves, not doing a great job of hiding his chagrin, until he finally gets to the new plot where his grandfather resides. His headstone looks fresh and clean, a far cry from some of the older grave markers he avoided on the way over.

Farkle kneels down, dropping the flower he was carrying on the grass in front of the tombstone. He clears his throat. "Riley gave me that. She said I should put it here. She also told me that coming here and talking to a piece of stone would make me feel better. I think she's crazy."

The headstone doesn't answer. Of course it doesn't. Farkle debates getting up and walking away but finds himself settling into a sitting position instead. He brings his knees up and props his elbows on them, chewing the inside of his cheek uncertainly.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. I don't think talking to you as if you're still here is going to make all of my problems suddenly go away. Or am I supposed to pretend I think you're listening? You're dead. That's the fact of the matter. You're dead and that's it and now your rotting corpse is in the ground underneath me. And that's supposed to make me feel better."

He trails off, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the situation. Somewhere nearby, a morning dove coos. It's weird, how this plot of land feels so far away from the noise of the city when it's really only a couple stops on the subway.

"I broke up with Isadora," he finds himself saying. He links his fingers together. "It's was just going to be worse if I didn't. I know that, logically. But what I don't get is why it hurts so badly when I know it's exactly what I'm supposed to do. It's what's best for everyone. And now I sound like a lunatic because I'm sitting here talking to you about it. And it's not even you. It's a headstone. It's a piece of stone stuck in the ground. As if you're going to tell me what to do."

The morning dove coos again. A couple of meters away, a family approaches a headstone and lays down some flowers. There's a little girl with them. She looks a lot more comfortable in the graveyard than he does.

He feels that pain in the back of his throat again.

"I don't want to go to Princeton," he whispers, not trusting his voice to stay even. It cracks, just like he thought it would. "I wish you were here to tell me what to do."

The family across the way walks away. Farkle wipes his eyes, cursing under his breath and getting to his feet.

"But you're not. I have to do this on my own." He glances down at the grave, swallowing hard. "You're just a headstone."

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, heading back towards the entrance. In the back of his mind, he hates the fact that despite the nonsensical nature of the conversation, he does feel a little bit better.

After sending in his acceptance to Washington University in St. Louis, Farkle feels the weight of the world lift off his shoulders.

The rest of the year seems to go by in a flash. The last high school musical. Their final debate tournament in which he and Smackle secured Abigail Adams the championship title for the first year ever. Senior skip day, senior prom. Topanga and Cory's wedding vow renewals.

All the sudden, he's packing up his things and preparing for the road trip. When Maya mentioned the idea to him after the vow reception he immediately went to work, organizing hotels and possible food locations. Lucas helps him structure out the driving rotation. The truly impressive part is that they managed to do all of the planning under Riley's nose.

As he's packing up the last box in his room, his dad wanders over and tapes it shut for him. The two of them drop it on the ground and look around at the large room, even more vast with so much of his stuff packed away. He's only taking the necessities, the things that feel important to him, but just removing that makes the room feel so different.

Emotions, at play again. But he's less afraid of them now than he used to be.

"Hey, dad?" he says timidly, mustering up his courage when his father turns his critical eye on him. It's a look he's always respected, and attempted to emulate in a lot of ways. "You're okay with me going to WashU, right? Like, you're cool with it?"

"Well, we just packed up your entire room to send it there, didn't we?"

"I know, I know. I just… I just want you to be proud of me. I know Princeton was really important to you."

Stuart's expression softens considerably. He steps forward and pulls Farkle into a hug—rare, in this family, but not unwelcome. "Wherever you go, I will be proud of you. You're going to do amazing things no matter where you are."

Farkle feels that pain in his throat one more time. But this time, it's a good pain. "Thanks, dad."

The two of them finish stacking boxes and then Stuart says goodnight, leaving him alone to go over the itinerary one last time. He flips through the notebook Lucas filled with their ideas. He's glad to see less eraser marks on these notes than the ones he saw in junior year.

He's just gearing up to turn off the light and settle into bed when his phone buzzes on his side table. He stretches to grab it, seeing Maya's name lighting up the caller ID.

"Hello? What do you want, Penelope?"

"Hilarious! Listen. Can you book a hotel for tonight?"

Farkle glances up at the constellations above him, making a face. "I could, yeah. But I'm not going to unless you give me a good reason."

"We're leaving tonight. Get your stuff ready and book a hotel for just inside Pennsylvania. I'll be there in like fifteen minutes."

"Wait." Farkle sits up, sliding to the end of the bed. "Maya, what's happening?"

"I'll explain everything. I promise. Just book that hotel, and make it quick. Be there soon."

She hangs up before he has the chance to argue, leaving him utterly confused but buzzing with energy. Maya has this contagious effect, he's felt it ever since they were kids. And he has the feeling that whatever she's planning, it's going to be an adventure full of that energy.

Farkle scrambles to grab his suitcase and backpack, booking on hotel on his Expedia app as fast as he can manage. He's just hitting confirm when his phone buzzes again, indicating that Maya is waiting for him outside. He's not sure if the transaction went through, but he'll find out when they get wherever they're going.

He takes the stairs all the way down, two at a time. When he gets to the front door and is staring out the glass doors at the ratty old van waiting for him he pauses, feet rooted to the floor in a brief instance of nostalgia.

He glances behind him at the home he's leaving behind. He'll see it again in the winter, but it's going to be the longest he's ever been away. He's lived here his whole life, and suddenly everything about his life is going to change. He has to convince himself that he's ready.

Outside, the car honks. Maya, jolting him out of his reservations as she always does.

No time to be hesitant. Time to move forward.

Grabbing his suitcase, Farkle steps out the doors and out into the late night. Darting to the car where Maya Hart is waiting for him, eager to start whatever crazy adventure awaits them down the road.