Author's Note: Thank you to my amazing, loyal, reviewers, followers, and favorites! If you have any opinion on this chapter, feel free to let me know, I'd appreciate it! :)

So, I'm not going to ramble on and on, but I do want to apologize for how long this took. I also apologize for how short this chapter is and how sloppily it's been slapped together! :/ I'm going to be honest, I'm pretty disappointed with how this one turned out, but I wanted to get you guys something (since it had been quite a while) and I wrote this on no inspiration, so...

Again, I apologize, but I really do hope you enjoy it a little bit! Thank you to those who are still reading and reviewing, you guys make my day! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own GMW, just the story!

Chapter Thirty-Six: A Veil is Lifted

"Why do we have to talk about it?"

"You know why."

Maya bent her head over the mug of untouched tea, swirling the spoon through the liquid to mix the already melted honey. "I apologized, didn't I?"

"Too many times, yes." Farkle sent her a small smile, leaning on the sand colored table with pointy elbows. "But we didn't discuss it."

Riley scooched her chair closer, ever the one loathe to hold grudges, and placed her hand on Maya's arm. "We just need to know what's been going on, okay?"

The blonde girl in question raised a pair of melancholy cerulean eyes, full of wistfulness but one that was paired with some sort of relief. When they met Lucas's however, they darkened, though it was more surprising still when his matched her tone as well. "I don't exactly know where to start."

"The beginning is always a good idea," Zay suggested through a mouthful of dinner, having never finished his plate in the mad rush for the door.

Riley smiled, but Maya's eyes were downcast upon the grain of the wood again, transfixed upon some unknown point. "I think you already know most of it," she began, a choked word or two appearing among the others. "The texting issue, my art, my father's...family."

"We don't know about your dad," Farkle interjected kindly.

"Don't pretend, I know Lucas told you." She didn't sound angry or even hurt, much to the surprise of the group, just somber like she had been for the last hour.

"I didn't, Maya," Lucas said softly, arms crossed against his chest as he leaned back in his chair defensively. "I wouldn't have told them that."

Her eyes snapped to his, revealing some aspect of herself they were used to seeing. "I can't trust your word on that and you know why."

He did.

"Why don't you just tell it from your point of view, regardless of if he told us or not, okay?" Riley suggested, squeezing her shoulder lightly.

It took her a moment, but after waiting patiently, they were soon rewarded with an explanation. "My dad..." she trailed off, swirling the spoon again and watching as the silver caught the glare of the electric lights above. "Invited me to his house a couple of months ago."

"Really?" Zay inquired, sounding worried for the first time.

Maya glanced at Lucas for a moment, then returned to her stewing tea. "Well, actually it was his wife and their...kid." Her statement was met with silence, so she continued on as if there had never been a pause. "She's very cute."

"Did he know?" Farkle asked boldly, ignoring the look from Lucas.

"No."

Riley inhaled sharply. "What did he do?"

"I don't think we need to delve too deep into this subject," Farkle spoke up, sensing Maya's conflict and hurt.

Expecting her to jump at the chance to cease speaking, he was astonished when she interrupted, brushing off her chance at an escape. "He was surprised at first, but he mostly welcomed me, I suppose. And you all know he took me on a trip, of course." Maya pushed away the immediate recollections of the vacation, not wanting to go too far into them, easy as it was.

"Is that the week you weren't at school?" Riley queried, understanding dawning on her face. "I thought you were visiting a relative."

Maya revealed an uncharacteristic smile curve onto her features. "I was, in a way."

"Well, I see how that must have been difficult," Zay responded slowly, chewing thoughtfully. "What else has been going on?"

When Lucas and Maya exchanged looks again, Riley threw up her hands and scooched back her chair in frustration. "Will you two stop? I know you both are hiding something."

Lucas sighed, drumming his fingers upon the table, trying to decided how much to reveal. On the other side of the wood, Maya was doing the same, though she was more reticent then he was planning to be.

"You know the art museum demolition?"

Their friends all nodded one by one as remembrance rang through their minds. "What about it?" asked Farkle, who took a sip of his own tea.

Without any sugar coating, any plan of discreetly telling them, Maya blurted out the truth—much to Lucas's chagrin. "We were involved."

"Really, Maya?" he groaned, splaying his fingers across his forehead as every eye turned to him.

"You're joking, aren't you?" Riley stammered, face pale and clearly unbelieving of her own words.

"No," Maya admitted quietly.

"I believe it," Zay snorted.

"Really?" Farkle stood up, oddly angry for some reason. "She defaced art. You know, the one thing she's always loved no matter what?"

"Farkle, calm down," was the response from his friend, who raised a dark eyebrow. "It's Lucas you should be shocked with. Mr. Perfect, Mr. Moral Compass, Mr.-"

"We get the idea, Zay," Lucas interjected flatly.

"Why?" Riley shook her head in disbelief. Why would either of you do that?"

It was difficult for both Maya and Lucas to continue, sensing the aura of disappointment and confusion in their friends. Mostly for the former, who was already dealing with a whole plethora of confessions and apologies. "It's a really long story," she finally spoke, chipping off a flake of scarlet nail polish.

"We have time," Farkle decided tersely, plunking back into his seat.

Maya bit her lip habitually. "Fine, I roped Cowboy into it after he insisted I wouldn't, and then one day I decided I was being stupid so I stopped. The end."

Everyone snorted, rather synchronously too.

"I think you have to come up with a better story than that, Shortstack," Lucas prompted. "You're not exactly helping our case."

"I'm helping yours," she shot back. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Lucas leaned forward, maintaining stern eye contact. "I made my decision, not you."

"But—"

"Will somebody just explain something?" Zay asked in exasperation, craning his neck to survey the far side of the table where the two arguing teen sat. "Because none of us are following."

Maya muttered something unflattering, which only Lucas caught, consequently earning herself a glare from the latter. "Okay, my cousin Jazz invited me to spray paint—" she stopped with an indescribable expression on her face, though obviously battling some kind of decision. Finally, when she spoke again, her words were cautious but full of admittance. "She asked me to spray paint a school and I agreed. I didn't know it was our school."

"It was you?" Riley's eyes practically bugged out of her head.

"How much have you not told us? Damn, Maya," Zay whistled. "Did you know that too, Lucas?"

"Yes."

Maya turned to him, puzzled. "How?"

"Oh come on, it was kind of obvious, Maya." He looked fiercely unamused. "Just continue."

Biting back a sharp remark, she glanced out the window at the jet-black night, wondering if she could make another escape. "I then found out her plan to vandalize all the art museums in New York, ending with the one her mother owned. I tried to get out of it, but she threatened me and forced me to stay."

"So this whole thing has been some sort of revenge plot?" Zay nodded as if this sort of thing was a normal occurrence, and returned to his biscuit pleasantly. "Sorry, proceed."

Maya tapped her fingernails against the porcelain mug in mentation. "It's pretty much self-explanatory after that. Lucas found out and insisted on 'protecting me', so he joined up. And then I stopped one night."

"You forgot to mention him," Lucas reminded quietly, not meeting her eyes as she glared fiercely at him.

"I don't think now is a good time, Huckleberry," she seethed, smiling through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes.

"What's not?" Riley blinked, glancing around the table innocently.

Maya huffed, downing a gulp of lukewarm tea before answering, as if to give her some sort of strength to prepare for the aftermath of her statement. "Josh was involved. He helped us break into the museums, Riley."

"That can't be true."

"I wasn't going to tell you, but Ranger Rick is just so polite and patient," Maya mimicked coldly, plunking down her mug and sloshing some of the amber tea onto the table.

The brunette appeared not to have heard any of what had just transpired after her friend's words, instead shaking her head vigorously as if to clear it from her memory. "Josh wouldn't do that."

"I'm not lying, Riles."

"You have to be," she exclaimed, eyebrows furrowing in bafflement, transforming her sweet face into a pained one.

"She's not," Lucas confirmed, standing up and drawing all the attention away from the girls. "But I think that's enough for tonight. I'll see you all tomorrow."

"Lucas—" Maya began, but was quickly halted by a barely imperceptible shake of his head.

"Good night." He headed up the stairs, wood creaking and groaning under the weight of his weary footsteps, leaving behind four mystified expressions.

"What was that about?" Farkle pondered, staring up after Lucas.

"I don't know, but I think he's right," Maya said, pushing out her chair too. "No more can possibly be said tonight. I think we all might just explode."

"That's a scientific impossibility," the boy automatically responded as if on auto-pilot.

"Is it?"

Zay swallowed his stew, stood up, and grabbed his bowl. "The answer is no, Farkle. The answer is no."

And then Riley lifted her pointed chin, staring wobbly at the seat in front of her. "In fact, some of us already have."

Maya dumped her tea into the sink, watching it gurgle down the drain as if hoping it would suck away the conversation with it, before turning to her friend with a softened gaze. "I'm sorry, Riley."

"I know, it's okay." She drew her knees to her chest, resting her cheek upon them with a sigh.

It wasn't.

"That's your idea? Can't we just leave it be?" Maya asked, slamming the cupboard door close with a bang.

"No."

She briefly observed the huddled group, clumped together like fish in a barrel, all ignoring the curiousness of last night for a common goal. They were strange people, she concluded.

"You are all incredibly stubborn," Maya huffed aloud, placing a hand on her forehead, truly tired of the debates.

"You're one to talk," Lucas scoffed, leaning over Farkle's shoulder as he tapped away on Maya's phone, intense concentration apparent on his features.

The blonde made her way to the desk languidly, attempting to hide her concern behind a mask of nonchalance, but unsteady footsteps giving her emotions away. "What if I don't want to know who it is?"

"What if we do?" Riley ventured, her eyes too drawn to the light like a moth to a flame.

"Why?" she complained.

Everyone ignored her, watching with curious gazes as Farkle plugged in the phone and began dissecting the information that automatically appeared upon the screen. A set of numbers appeared—ones that Maya happily overlooked as she stared at anything else—while her friends murmured amongst themselves about locations and suggestions of transportation.

Seeing that none of them were going to cease their pursuit, Maya groaned loudly and fell onto the couch in an amusing display of histrionics. "I don't want to know!"

"Why not?" Zay inquired, peering at her briefly, before returning his attention to the task at hand.

"Why would I want to know who's been sending me those texts?" She exclaimed incredulously, bolting up to a sitting position, clearly frustrated.

"Because you can exact revenge?" he suggested, before scrambling away from the dangerous looks he received from his other friends.

"Don't give her ideas," Riley whispered, flitting her eyes from Maya to the computer. "You know how she gets."

The blonde rolled her eyes, standing up to physically drive some sense into the group. "I can hear you, I'm two feet away."

"We know." Riley smiled sanguinely, pleased when her statement was met with approving chuckles.

As Maya approached, her eyes finally caught notice of the numbers upon the computer screen and her face paled, contrasting the creamy white of her skin with an eerie translucence. "Farkle."

"Yes?" His eyes remained squinted upon the imagery on the screen, but his head tilted slightly in her direction, meaning she had half of his attention. Which was more than usual.

"Are you sure that's right?"

"Yes, Maya. I'm sure I'm right." He scowled beneath furrowed brows, pushing his space bar rapidly in order to get the computer to follow his desired commands.

"Not you, it," she snapped, pushing Lucas out of the way to bow her head over the keyboard. He stumbled back passively, but sent her an odd, baffled expression that she readily ignored.

Farkle heaved a rather exaggerated sigh, and relinquished his position over command on the computer. "I'm sure. I built it myself."

"There's no way it can be wrong?"

"For goodness sake—"

Lucas interjected, placing a placating hand on Farkle's shoulder. "Maya, what's wrong?"

Ignoring his comment, she frantically clicked away on the keyboard, fire flashing in her eyes and sparks emitting from their expanse, daring anyone to come into close proximity. Lucas neglected the warning, instead approaching her form with bold calmness as he gently turned her shoulders towards him.

"Maya."

She didn't shift from his eyes, nor did she remove herself from his touch, most surprising to all the room's occupants. Instead they retained eye contact, though Maya's lips proved to be sealed shut, most irritatingly to Lucas.

"Come on, what's wrong?" he inquired, pushing her to open up.

She snuck a glance at the screen, then back at Lucas, then back at the address all typed up in neat rows of block letters. "That address..."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Maya inhaled deeply, now removing herself from Lucas's hands and taking a tentative step backwards as if afraid of an explosive reaction. Instead of its supposed relaxation however, it garnered a far more worried expression from the boy.

"What's going on?" he broached, frustration lacing his tone, threatening to become more.

She looked away. "That's Jazz's address."