A certainperson hascommented on this story, basically insulting the Lucaya Fandom and Maya's character. In case the description of the story is not clear enough, I'm saying this again: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T SUPPORT LUCAYA. I mean, why read if you hate Lucaya? Too much free time on your hands? I don't mind constructive criticism, but too far is too far.
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I wander aimlessly. I realized my life circles around Riley a lot. I couldn't go to the Bay Window, I couldn't go to Topanga's. There's nowhere else to go. I end up at school. In the art room. It's about six-thirty in the evening. I get out my supplies.
/I have to use the smallest and shortest aisle. With every stroke of the brush, I express a feeling, an emotion, an understanding. The door creaks open. I whirl around, ready to explain.

"Mr. Jackson, I-" I come face to face with Lucas Friar. "Oh."

"Hey." He says carefully, watching me with his deep eyes.

"Hi, Lucas." I say, fidgeting uncomfortably.

He doesn't ask me if I am okay. He just pulls a small chair and sits next to me.

"I thought you might need someone... to be by your side." I bite my lower lip.

"Lucas, I just want to thank you for this morning. I-" He stops me with a wave of his hand.

"You needed me. It was the right thing to do." To fill the silence, I continue painting to give my hands something to do. Lucas leans over to look at my work. It's a purple cat. At the Bay Window.

"I can't believe Riley actually..." I can't finish.

"Hey. Forget about her. Your life revolves around her so much. You deserve at least a small part of your life back." he says, his hand on my forearm. It's the first time he's done it without hesitation. He doesn't move it away, and I don't protest.
/I turn suddenly, taking my brush with me.

"Riley is-" And then I stop. Because my brush hit Lucas in the face, leaving a patch of purple on his cheek. I can't help it. I laugh until my stomach and cheeks hurt.

"That's a detention, Miss Hart." he says, standing up in a horrible imitation of Mr. Matthews. I laugh more. He grabs a brush from my tray of supplies, and drags a long line of purple down my face. An impish grin on both our faces, we start attacking
/each other with the paints until we look like rainbows. Then Lucas dips his hands into the bucket of water and flicks water at me. My hands fly up to cover my face, and knocks into the tray of paint.

"Wait, wait! Lucas!" I shriek, breathless. "I lost... my watch! I took it off and put it on the tray when I was painting."

"Oh my gosh, Maya, I'm so sorry." Lucas immediately drops to his hands and knees and starts searching the floor. I grab the bucket of water. "Wait a minute. Since when do you wear-" I turn it upside down above Lucas' head, the contents making a glorious
/splash. Lucas looks up, soaked to the bone. We start shouting and shrieking again, attacking each other with paint. Then Lucas grabs the half empty jar of purple paint, and dumps it on me. I shriek. The door opens. We turn, the flush of laughter
/still bright on our faces. It's Mr. Jackson. He sighs.

"Sometimes, I like to paint when it's quiet. You know when it's quiet? My classroom after school." He looks at us with a look on his face.

"Sorry, Mr. Jackson. I had an urge. Besides, I don't really have anywhere else to go." I say. Mr. Jackson spots my painting and comes over to look.

"Hey, now. What's this? I see sentimentality, and memories, and a certain view of the future. What's your voice trying to say, Miss Hart?"

"I don't know." I reply, realizing it's true. What did I want Riley to be? Did I want the old Riley back? Would it affect me and Lucas? We've never been as close as this, because Lucas always felt bound to Riley when she fell into his lap. What did
/Zay and Farkle think?

"Clean yourselves up, please."

"Yes, Mr. Jackson." We step out into the hallway.

"Well... you guys look like the devil." Janitor Harley leans on his mop. He hands us towels. We clean our faces in the toilets. When we step out and hand Janitor Harley our towels, Lucas nods at me and says,

"The purple hair looks good on you." I flush slightly. What did that mean?

"Thanks, Huckleberry." I say, grinning, brushing it off. I can't let Mom's words affect us. What if I lose this comradeship forever?

"Friend trouble?" Janitor Harley guesses. We nod.

"It's Riley."

"What, the Matthews kid? You kids act like you couldn't be separated by the Great Wall of China." He raises his eyebrows in surprise. We tell the whole story to him.

"I never liked that Bradford girl." He says when we're done. "It seems to me," he adds slowly, "that you've got to work it out yourselves. All that I can say is it'll do you well to remember this: Always keep your friends close. For as long as you
/can." He looks at us keenly. "Now please leave the building. I've got cleaning to do, and I don't need your rainbow coloured footprints on my floors." We do as he asks.

"Hey, want to go have some fun?" Lucas asks, a glint in his eyes.

P. S. I'm sorry this chapter is a little shorter than usual.