After they spoke, Mercedes felt good about her relationship with Sebastian for the first time. Confident, even. She felt as though the elephant in the room had been addressed: that they weren't the same type of people coming from the same background. As long as she had high expectations (or really any) for the way he would treat her in public or around his friends, she knew she would be disappointed. There were clear social divides and things both parties could never understand about the other, but there was love between them, and if they could get back to that and simply stick to it, the rest was noise.

Of course, they were just friends and would probably only ever be friends, but it was nice to have someone around who cared about her or cared enough to show up at her house in the middle of night just to make sure she didn't go to sleep upset— that type of care and attention was the reason she found herself staring at Sebastian in an enamored gaze when she passed by him in the hallway or scribbling his name in the outline of college-line notebooks. It was affirmed when he would occasionally give her a smirk or tap her shoulder when he passed her as well. It felt like a game that only the two of them knew about. Keeping the secret was more fun than not acknowledging there was one. Sometimes she would overhear people gossiping about him or just talking about a place that they could never reach with his name involved, and she would smile to herself, knowingly, arrogant because she knew she could find out any and everything from him and haughty because someone like her shouldn't have had that type of prestige. Her and Sebastian were friends and growing close even, and that kept her happy.

A lone figure walked by Mercedes while her arms were crossed tightly around her books, her mind idle and her teeth working her lower lip.

"Don't you got somewhere to be,' he asked coolly, incredulously.

Mercedes snapped back to reality, looking the boy over and rolling her eyes. She turned to close her locker and began to walk to class with him, just one in a daily entourage of escorts. "If you skip class again, I can't cover for you. I don't want any teachers thinking less of me than they already do just because,' she rolled her eyes again. It was one of her best talents.

"I ain't never said you had to lie for me, you chose that,' he laughed, and Mercedes let loose a gentle, flirtatious chuckle. That was her dance with most of her classmates. A little flirting here, a little joking there, a soft caress on the back when passing by in class. Hell — there were boys she even kissed goodbye on the cheek, but none of it was romantic. None of them were like that, but maybe they were. Just not with her. To everyone, Mercedes was just a church girl with a sweet smile and fast tongue. She was fun to have around, but no one ever invited her to party or hang around town on the weekend. She didn't smoke, didn't drink and didn't know how to turn her nose down to the people around her who did. It was like inviting your auntie for a 'walk' around the block. Why would you?

"True,' she replied back smoothly, getting closer to one of her last classes of the day. "I take it you're not coming."

He mocked her, repeating what she said with an airy tone. "You talk so white, Mercedes, you know that? You definitely getting the fuck out of this town."

"There's no such thing as 'sounding white',' she replied, a hand moving to her hip, she pursed her lips. "Just sounding literate and sounding illiterate."

He laughed. "I picked my poison. Tell teach I said 'what's up' though,' and with that, her friend walked away swiftly, not to be seen for the rest of the day. Mercedes shook her head and trudged into class, giving a quick smile to the teacher and sitting in her normal seat. The girl she sat by in class, a friend, moved her stuff over so that Mercedes had room at the table. There was a niche she fit in, but she was blinded by the walls put up by others around her— she didn't realize there was much more to see or be, and if she did, she didn't see it as available to her. She knew kids smoked and sold and drank and danced and did everything worse, but not her friends, she told herself. Probably her friends, she told herself, but she closed her eyes. She couldn't know what she wouldn't see, and everyone else was so good at keeping her blind. In the end, it didn't matter.

Everyone was hiding something from everyone else, at least it was nothing that could hurt her.

That evening, Mercedes and her mother went to Wednesday Bible Study that began with a festive and communal praise and worship. The choir roared into microphones that offered deafening bass, and Mercedes sung her heart gladly. While she didn't have the time or transportation to be in her church's choir, she was known as a beautiful, powerful singer and occasionally given the opportunity to come forward and sing, especially on holidays. She had always been passionate about singing and music, but had never gotten the opportunity to shine that light outside of the four walls of Temple Baptist Family and Community Center Church (Incorporated). It was more evidence of Mercedes's insecurities manifesting in the real world, but she told herself that she was keeping her gift, God's gift, safe and secret in a place where it would be appreciated and remarked on. Mercedes knew how teenagers were, slow to praise and quick to reprimand. To take one of the only things she could be subjectively proud of and have it ridiculed in public would crush her— she would never make a peep again.

She practiced piano with some of the band members when she had time, when her mother had lingered behind to talk to a friend or a relative, and if she was asked to sing, she practiced the song in the parking lot all morning during Sunday discipleship classes.

When Mercedes was passionate about something, she tried hard. When she was passionate about people, she tried hard. It sometimes felt like nothing and no one felt as strongly for her as she did it, and in still being the passionate, consistent person she was, she convinced herself that she was a tragic hero cursed to roam the world loving everything and everyone and going unappreciated. In truth, to her mother, to her friends, to her teachers, she just lacked ambition, but with those big brown eyes and round cheeks and subtle indignation permeating every inch of her life, everyone patted her on the back and called her 'baby'.

A good life.

Mercedes's mother held her daughter's hand tightly during the sermon, one Mercedes nodded to and prayed along with but couldn't apply much to her life, because she had yet to do much living. By the way her mother empathized with the preaching, she assumed that the pastor was hitting all the right points for the congregation, but she didn't know if she desired to understand completely. Mercedes didn't want the 'trials and tribulations' that were promised. She wanted to love and be loved, get into college and hang out with Sebastian again soon. Thinking about the latter, she began to giggle while thinking of a joke he had told her recently. Her mother's grip tightened on her hand, and she stayed quiet for the rest of the service.

On the ride home, they drove with the windows down and listened to the sounds of the city and the air rushing into the car as they went home. Mercedes's mother didn't try to make empty small talk, she had always been a more serious woman, light-spirited but usually stressed or weary. By the heaviness on her brow, she knew the woman was thinking of bills or work or family or health. Mercedes knew she was praying. Instead of talking about school or her friends or whatever else couldn't have mattered at that moment, she looked outside of the window at the cars and buildings flying by, their colors merging together. She closed her eyes and hummed a tune lightly, thinking about how it must feel to be able to truly relax. To sit in the passenger seat of a car, feeling the breeze on your skin and truly belonging to that moment. Mercedes felt every minute so heavily, so intensely. There was no bit of life that wasn't all around her and all over her, because all of it was dreadfully boring usually. She sought so hard for meaning, overthought everything and found something out of nothing. Even in the empty night, she thought there was a message. When Mercedes opened her eyes, she was home, and her mother was halfway to the door.

She didn't bother to look the, probably, teary-eyed woman in the face.

The weather was growing brisk, and Mercedes knew that very soon she wouldn't have the option to walk home anymore. That week, she took every opportunity to take the long trek back to her house from school, gathering in everything she saw and heard as if it may not be available to her ever again. For all she knew, for as much transition as she was about to enter into, there was the chance that she would never see some of the things around the city again, at least not the way she was seeing them then.

She could make out fog in the air each time she breathed out, and she buried her hands into her bright purple puff coat. Mercedes tucked her school bag behind her arms and walked slowly, her head down, her mind racing on topics of everything. After some time, she ended up near the consignment shop she frequently visited. She had avoided it for a few weeks after the owner had offered to sell her the grand piano. Mercedes couldn't tell the woman to her face that she couldn't afford it and probably wouldn't ever be able to, so she had smiled along with the conversation.

Every time she thought about the store, she had a massive pit in her stomach the size of a fist. She struggled to face her again and have to lie about saving money or continue to let the woman think eventually she would make the purchase. What if the woman was holding onto the piano for Mercedes?

She felt guilt and intimidation, but still walked into the store, deciding that she would come in only a few more times, while it could still be insinuated she was somehow earning the money. She decided that maybe she could frequent the shop for a few more months before never stepping over the front door threshold again.

That would work.

Walking in, the door made a small chime, and Mercedes was immediately greeted by the owner. Giving her a small nod and wave, the woman went back to poking around some recently donated goods. Mercedes sighed in relief, fortunate that the woman hadn't attempted to make any small talk. She walked over to the piano and sat down on the creaking bench it came alongside. Pushing up the dust cover, Mercedes pushed lightly on a key she didn't know the name of and then another. The sound of the piano was faint, luckily, and there was no one else in the store. She would have been embarrassed by her lack of skill, but she convinced herself the store owner couldn't hear her cautious mistakes. Sooner than later, she had picked a quaint set of notes and had begun to play a soft melody.

"That's nice,' a small voice began behind her, causing Mercedes to jump quickly, grab her bag and close the dust cover abruptly. Looking over her shoulder with wide eyes, she saw a brunette with long brown hair standing with her arms crossed.

"Sorry,' she raised her hands in surrender. "I definitely did not mean to scare you, I'm always just creeping around. I'm not a loud person. I should've said something. Please, keep playing."

Mercedes sat her bag back down, her heart race slowing, but shook her head politely. "I'm still learning, and I don't think I could take you laughing at my lack of skill just yet,' she laughed cordially. "I'm probably going to run home soon anyway."

"Oh,' the girl sighed, her blue eyes almost shimmering in the damp store. "Well, you can stay for a while. We haven't had any customers in a few hours. It's a Thursday, so… I guess it's slow."

"I didn't realize anyone else worked here."

"Oh, well, she's,' the girl pointed vaguely at the front, indicating the shop owner. "She's my grandma. My mom and I just moved here to stay with her, we're kind of…' she began to trail but spoke again after looking Mercedes in the eye. "We're down on our luck, as granny would say. So, I'm just helping out around here until all my registration for school is transferred over. Do you go to school here?"

Mercedes nodded, "Yes, actually. I'm a senior at McKinley. Is that where you're going?"

"Yeah,' she began excitedly. "Sorry, I should've introduced myself. I'm Marley, Marley Rose. I'm a sophomore this year, so still pretty new to it all. High school has been fun though, I'm excited to meet everyone."

Mercedes smiled, a small amount of patronization on her lips. "They'll be excited to meet you too."

The girl went on to explain most of her life's story. Her mother was going to be a cafeteria worker at McKinley, and while she wasn't embarrassed about this inherently, she knew she didn't want too many people knowing the truth. 'People can be mean, and when given the option, they usually are' she had said, Mercedes nodding empathetically. Marley was eager and overzealous, but Mercedes could tell that she was kind, genuine and loyal. They talked about music, their favorite subjects, their favorite poets and how cold the winter was going to be. Before long, Marley was sitting on the bench beside Mercedes teaching her the names of all of the keys.

"It's difficult when you're starting out. You feel like you can never stretch your fingers as far as they need to go,' she flexed her long, bony hands. "Eventually, you get the hang of it… you should come back more, so I can teach you."

"You know, Marley. I might have to take you up on that, I think I like you. I might have to take you under my wing."

Marley laughed, "I'm.. flattered. I know how things work though, popularity and money is so important. I don't care about that kind of stuff. I can't afford to either, which makes it easier,' she gave a dry but knowing laugh. "You have your friends already, I know. If you're able to cut some time out to show me around Lima, I would appreciate it."

Mercedes smiled at the girl, pulling her in for a hug. She didn't know what it was, maybe them meeting at the piano or her candidness. Maybe her bright blue eyes, but, most likely, how Marley had put her on a pedestal so quickly. Mercedes wondered what she could teach Marley about Lima or McKinley, and after deciding that the school and city themselves should come with their own guidebook, she convinced herself that she had met Marley for a reason.

"I think we'll be good friends, Marley."