Author's Note: Thank you to those who have already favorited, reviewed, and followed! Please don't forget to REVIEW and enjoy! (Edited by Chereche!)
Fun fact time: Remember those two girls from Season 3 Episode 7 where Maya goes and tries to find herself (when she goes down to the park)? Coco and Jazz are loosely based off on them, though at first it was more of a sub-conscious writer's decision, only later becoming intentional. I really liked the idea of her having connections with people from her past that she longer had tons of contact with.
Also, random thank you to all of you who have kept up with this story. I recently re-read my first chapter and inwardly cringed, so thank you so much for sticking with it regardless of my earlier writing ability! XD If I ever have the TIME or inclination, I will probably try and re-write the first "couple" (*cough 30 chapters cough*) ones.
Reveal for bully is coming soon. You guys have any clue as to who it is? ;)
Disclaimer: I don't own Girl Meets World, just the story!
Chapter Thirty-Three: Decisions Are Happening in New York City
"Texas."
"Texas," she confirmed.
Maya snorted and adopted a look of skeptical disinterest, though inside she was curious-albeit still suspicious-about the subject. "And what makes you think I want to fly all the way down to the Cowboy's playground?"
Her mother's lips briefly quirked up at her daughter's humorous comment, but she managed to maintain her serious demeanor and proceeded to explain further. "I don't know, Maya. It's a great opportunity to take time to spend with your friends."
The younger blonde stretched an arm over her mother's bent form and snatched a bowl of pungent red flakes. "Because I don't see them every day?" It was a pointed yet jovial comment, one which she took careful consideration as to the tone she displayed, but it was hiding her true feelings—as usual. She saw her friends every day, however due to the unresolved tension between their scattered group, there was no talking or even friendly glances exchanged. Just silent acknowledgments and longing looks from the opposite side of their conflict.
"Don't you dare put paprika in the pasta," her mother exclaimed, warning her pleadingly as she snagged the bowl mid-way in the air. Unfortunately, this caused part of the shallow bowl to tip and spill part of its contents into the dish of macaroni. She turned to her daughter with a genuine exasperation, causing Maya to forget her secret gloominess and instead prompting a burst of loud chuckles.
Her mother swatted her arm gently with a wooden spoon, shook her head, and turned to the red-yellow pan in front of her with resentment. "You ruined it," she sighed, poking the noodles with her spoon.
Maya managed to cease her giggling as she deftly snuck the tipped bowl from the table's surface. "Have you even tried it? It's delicious." The blonde dumped the rest into the dish, and her mother immediately threw up her hands and scooted around her daughter, heading for the living room.
"Fine, you can finish dinner," she called over her shoulder, plopping onto a much needed cushion, tired from running around doing errands all day.
"Good." Maya opened their cabinet doors. "I'm adding a little thyme to it, then."
Her mother twisted forcefully in her chair, watching her move around their diminutive kitchen. "Despite what you apparently believe, you're not a chef, Maya Penelope."
She shrugged, getting out a tablespoon from an extremely cluttered drawer to her left. "I am now."
Her mother began to speak once again on her cooking abilities, but instead chose to shake her head and approach the previous conversation they had been having. "I have money for the ticket."
Maya slumped down as she glared at the woman sitting in front of her, annoyed at the fact that this topic was one they she insisted they had. "Do we have to talk about this?"
"What's wrong with this subject? What's going on?" Her eyebrows furrowed, and she craned her neck back to study her.
"Nothing, I just don't want to go," she lied, sliding to the right to escape her mother's gaze, instantly letting out a long breath privately.
"Well, if that's it, then I wish you'd just think about it." She clearly didn't believe a word she said, but at least she silently agreed to leave it alone. "I mean, what else are you going to be doing for spring break? Sitting around, watching re-runs of TV shows, and eating us out of house and home?"
"Sounds good to me," Maya commented, mixing her concoction of herbs, cheese, and noodles.
"Come on, you're being silly. What's wrong with Texas? Why don't you want to go?"
Immediately visions of a campfire and a certain Huckleberry flooded her brain. "Do you even remember that I was in a triangle?" Maya awkwardly asked, not used to broaching this subject often with her mother, although it wasn't the only reason for her reluctance.
"Ah, yes. Texas." She could hear the smile in her mother's tone, and it made her irritable. Maya yanked open the door to the oven and plunked the dish onto the rack, slamming it shut. "Okay, I see this is a sensitive topic," she continued cautiously, glancing at her daughter.
"No, really?" Maya said sarcastically, perching on the edge of their counter, not wanting to walk closer to her mother at this point in the battle they found themselves in.
She shot her an ill received sympathetic glance, then ran a hand over her face. "Please just tell me you'll make a decision."
"Fine," Maya conceded reluctantly.
"By tonight would be nice," she added cautiously, gauging her response cautiously.
"Tonight?" Maya shot her mother a pointed glare, her response loud and exasperated.
"Yes, we need to buy the tickets and we've waited long enough."
"Why do you need me to go to Texas so badly?" Now she was growing suspicious and wary at her mother's insistence. She could see it in her mother face, the immediate nervousness and concern as she asked, which didn't help calm the skeptical feeling she had about the motive behind the trip.
"Like I said, I just think you should spend time with your friends." Her mother's eyes revealed the swirling thoughts scrambling for some excuse or theory.
"Really. That's it? Because I could spend time with them here you know," Maya rebutted, raising her eyebrows, not hiding her suspect.
The older of the two women in the standstill lowered her bright eyes and let her slanted bangs obscure her twisted features, reminding her of a habit she once possessed in her teenage years. How was she to supposed to withhold the group's plan without creating more tension and anger in her young daughter? Maya already had plenty of that simmering in her, and with part of that deriving from a place of hurt caused by her, she couldn't afford to be the root of more.
"Mom." Maya's voice was laced with irritation as she leaned forward, her elbows pressing into the skin of her legs.
She raised her head. "I think that it would benefit you to get away from New York," she said honestly. Maya recoiled in surprise and puzzlement. "You need a change of environment," her mother continued wistfully.
"Why?" Maya queried softly and anxiously. Her fingers twitched as she itched to spring them forward and clasp onto a short thread or a tendril of blonde hair.
"Because sometimes people need a change of scenery. Sometimes it allows clarity or understanding to come to them, especially if that new place holds some kind of meaning or memory for them."
Maya swallowed, clearing her throat as she attempted to disguise the clear fracas the answer had caused for her. "Yeah, some meaning all right," she joked, her voice sounding groggy and unconvincing.
Her mother smiled regardless. "Triangles are just two-dimensional pyramids, Baby Girl."
"Excuse me?" Maya forgot her reminiscing and confusion, completely baffled by this remark. Triangles are what now?
The older blonde laughed, a sound that wasn't heard quite often enough and so spread throughout the room with a presence of peace and lightness. "We like to look at things like we view two-dimensional shapes, such as squares, circles, et cetera. In the case of a triangle, all we see are three sides, one that we often associate with a mountain or some kind of tall obstacle. We go up one side and go down the other."
"I'm not following."
"There's more than one side to climb up. More than one way to accomplish whatever mission you may have, whether that be to reach the apex of your mountain or just make it to the other side."
"I see." She really didn't, it sounded too philosophical and silly for it to bear any meaning or relation to her current predicaments.
"And not all pyramids are three sided," her mother added ambiguously.
The timer abruptly went off, blaring the vexing beeping loudly. Maya sighed and slid off of the counter, pressing the off button and proceeding to check on their dinner. "Trust me, there were only three sides to our triangle," she called, snatching a pair of oven mitts to grab the scalding pan on the rack.
"Didn't say that there were more than three," was the response, much to her chagrin.
Maya closed the oven, threw down the mitts and rolled her eyes at her mother. "Then what did you mean?"
"The triangle was only one problem you had to deal with, that's the other side."
She plunked down two plates and rifled through their chaotic silverware drawer. "You're saying I was dealing with other issues, somehow making our three sided pyramid a four sided one? That's ridiculous, especially considering the fact that problems aren't human." The blonde smirked at this, before growing somber and annoyed again. "I wasn't dealing with other issues either, by the way."
"Because you are." This was uttered so softly, she wasn't sure anyone could ever have heard it.
Maya heard a murmur of something coming from the living room, so she popped her head around the cabinet door, cocking her head at her mother. "What did you say?"
"Nothing, I just said we should have salad with our pasta this time, maybe try to be healthy for once. Can you grab the ranch and vinaigrette?" Her mother rose from her seat and crossed to the refrigerator, not once glancing at the immobile girl to her left squinting at her with curiosity. Their conversation had changed so abruptly and Maya desperately desired to know the cause for it. Unfortunately, she wouldn't find out, as they finished dinner preparations silently and awkwardly.
Once they had sat at the table for a good ten minutes, Maya sighed and glanced at her mother, reluctantly answering the question that needed to be addressed. "I'll tell you tomorrow before school." She poked at her cheesy noodle, hoping there would be no response.
Her mother nodded at her salad, not even checking to see if her daughter caught her agreement. She really wished she hadn't mentioned pyramids.
He wasn't going to lie, he was struggling. Grasping for control over his overwhelming emotions, grappling for grip on calm and peace. The next week or so was going to be very difficult for him to handle, considering the fact that he would have to sit like an idiot and not lift a single finger to help Maya. At least, not the way he really desired to express currently. One more week, he kept telling himself. That's all.
Lucas forced himself to turn his attention away from these thoughts, instead focusing on the open book of arithmetic problems before him. He blinked in confusion at the charts, his mind devoid of any comprehension, before remembering he had been doing homework since he had gotten home from school, which was about two hours ago. He hadn't completed a single question.
Based on this fact, he knew he absolutely had to begin his task. Lucas attempted the first problem with determination, but instead found himself five minutes later tapping his pencil against the wood of his desk and resting his head in his hands defeated. It's not that he didn't know the answer, it's just he didn't know how to get there or rather he couldn't remember due to other things clouding his brain.
Which then brought up a revelation he hadn't considered before, one that naturally concerned Maya Hart. She was just like this math problem. Lucas could see the solution, he could practically taste the victory, but he wasn't sure how to get there or if it would work. It was too late to back out now and he wouldn't have wanted to anyway, not after all of their work, but Lucas was so concerned that it would backfire. What if Maya found out their true intentions behind the trip, or she didn't listen to Pappy Joe, or Pappy Joe somehow made it worse, because he had done that before? Lucas knew with absolute certainty that his grandfather had a gift for helping others with their dilemmas, but there was always that one time. Or multiple, if he was referring to Pappy Joe.
He couldn't deal with this anymore. Pushing back his chair with a loud scrape, he stood up, slid his books into his backpack, and slung the bag over his shoulder. Silently opening his door, he crept downstairs, and passed by his parents who were obliviously making dinner. It was an activity that rarely took less than an hour to accomplish for them, due to their incessant debates about meaningless topics. Normally, this would irritate Lucas slightly, but today it was a helpful aspect as it would give him ample time to get back home before they recognized that he was absent.
Lucas sucked in a breath, although it wouldn't aid him in any stealthy endeavor, and managed to creep out the door before they could spot him. He paused for a brief moment, recalling the last time he had done something directly against his parent's rules. He desperately hoped he would never have to get Maya out of something like that again. Lucas then proceeded to brush it aside, not wanting to delve into his past too deeply, and began his trek to a place that would hopefully clear his head a little.
Soon enough, he reached the chain link fence and rested his palms on top of the cold, poky surface. His eyes inspected the deserted field, double checking its vacancy, before tossing his bag over the fence. Lucas put a foot on one of the links and slung his leg over, dropping onto the dirt below with a puff of dust. Smiling a bit to himself as he contemplated the baseball field, he in the spur of the moment, flung his backpack onto a green section of turf and jogged out to the bases. Planting his sneaker clad foot onto home plate, he squinted at the diamond before him and abruptly began racing as rapidly as he could around the bases. The bleachers were obviously vacant, but somehow he could hear the echoes of cheers and whistles ringing throughout his pounding head as he sprinted across the dirt track.
His left foot slapped first base.
Lucas's chest heaved heavily as he trudged disappointed towards his waiting family. His brow was beaded with sweat and his clammy hand gripped the handle of a trophy tightly, noticeably vexed as his knuckles turned a distinct white.
"It's okay, Lucas," his mother clucked sadly, hugging him close. "You'll do better next time."
His father twisted his face into an expression of pity as he attempted to hide both a demeanor of annoyance and his phone. "You tried your best, don't worry about it." Lucas glanced disapprovingly at the square bulge in his father's pocket, not believing the sentiment.
A hand slapped his back, a little more forceful than perhaps intended, but it definitely caused him to turn around. Lucas sighed and looked up to meet the expected censure in his grandfather's eyes. Pappy Joe managed to wrest the trophy free from his clenched hands, then lifted it up to inspect it with obvious disdain. "They give you an award for running like a girl, now?" He guffawed at this ridiculous notion, narrowing his blue eyes at the label. "Ah, participant. How proud you must be," he said, handing back the trophy.
"Dad, stop it," his mother warned, shooting him a warning look. "Lucas tried his best, and he can only get better. Don't forget he was the one who invited you in the first place, too."
Pappy Joe grunted. "Lucas should know the truth, you shouldn't hide it from him."
"Yes, but it doesn't mean you have to tear down his self-confidence either," she snapped.
"Right here," Lucas spoke up, irritated at their conversation.
At this, his mother shot her father another glare and Pappy Joe huffed in a boyish manner, which might have been humorous if not for the circumstance. "Okay, son. Your mother is right, boys should have lots of encouragement." Lucas saw a glimmer of a smile flicker onto his mother's face. "However, the encouragement I have for you is non-existent today. You failed and you need to own up to it like a man. You understand?"
He nodded in assent, not sure of what the lesson was. Lucas had lost and for sure didn't deserve this trophy. He handed it back to Pappy Joe with a determined gleam in his eye. His grandfather smiled broadly and thumped him on the back. "Good man."
He skittered back onto home plate with an exaggerated slide, trying to catch his breath. Lucas panted, resting his hands behind his head, and turned his neck to the right. The bleachers remained empty. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. All this venture had done was dig up memories of Pappy Joe, and the corresponding reasons as to why Maya shouldn't have a discussion with him.
Lucas groaned and made his way to the cool metal of the bleachers, scooping up his bag on the way. Ascending the stairs with ominous booms on each step, he made his way to a row near the middle and plunked down onto the scratched surface.
The whole field spread before him and he viewed it with a sense of relaxed familiarity and synonymous anxiety. Baseball represented so much more than his friends realized, as it revealed more about a certain event than he wished to divulge. Even after three years.
And just like that, a flip was switched inside of him.
"What the hell were you thinking, Lucas Friar?" His father shouted, hurling his car keys onto the kitchen counter. "Do you even realize what this means? Expulsion, that's what it means." He yanked the freezer door open, reached inside, and brought out an ice pack which he wrapped carelessly in a towel. "I can't believe what I just saw." He threw the package to Lucas, who barely managed to catch it with his swollen eye. "I just saw my thirteen year old son standing over an unconscious boy at the baseball field with a black eye and sprained wrist. You didn't even have baseball practice today, what the hell were you doing there?" Lucas didn't even attempt to answer the questions, knowing good and well that he could not talk until his father said he could. Not when he was angry. "...say something!" his father snarled, slamming the door shut. Lucas flinched.
"I'm sorry, sir." He lifted the pack gingerly to his black and blue eye.
"Sorry? That's it? That's all you have to say?" Lucas didn't think he'd ever seen him this angry. "Just you wait until your grandfather gets home. Then there will be hell to pay."
Just as these words were uttered, the harbinger of dread himself made an appearance, shaking off hay from his shoulders. His eyes held a new revelation and his parted lips suggested the beginnings of a new joke, but it all halted when he surveyed the scene before him. Lucas was hunched over a carefully held wrist and ice pack, while his father had his chest thrust out and his arms crossed ominously.
Pappy Joe moved forward slowly, pulling off his gloves. "What's going on? You both look like someone died."
"Not yet," Lucas mumbled, receiving a seething look from his father.
"Lucas sent a kid to the hospital," he responded, when his son didn't utter a word about the occurrence.
Lucas lifted his head defiantly. "He wasn't the only one," he retorted, holding up his injured wrist which was throbbing painfully. "You act as though I'm the only one guilty here."
"You have no right to talk right now. You will sit there and think about what you've done and the consequences of your actions. You beat a kid up, Lucas Friar!"
The boy in question stood up abruptly, thrusting a pointed finger at his father. "You weren't there! He beat me up just as much!" he yelled at him.
It was at this point that Pappy Joe intervened, stepping into the space between his father and him. "Go take a walk," he commanded of Lucas's father who angrily ripped his hands from the towel he was holding and slammed the door on his way out. "Tell me what happened, Lucas." Pappy Joe turned to his grandson who was still standing furiously.
"Zay's big mouth got him into trouble is what happened."
"So you thought it was a good idea to beat up his enemies in return?"
Lucas growled. "He was in trouble, I need to protect my friends."
His grandfather laughed. "Where did that get you, son?"
"Aren't you always telling me to be a man and to step up? Well, that's what I did. I didn't let anyone push me around like some kid, so stop treating me like one," Lucas snapped, his face a furious mask.
"Being a man doesn't always mean punching people who are mean to you," he responded calmly. "It means making the bigger choice, being the better person."'
Lucas shook his head in disbelief as he boldly stepped towards his grandfather, his recklessness in part due to the heavy dose of adrenaline coursing through his veins. "All my life you have drilled it into me that I have to win. That I'm not worthy or a man if I don't prove myself to be someone to be reckoned with. That's what I did today, and here you are of all people telling me that I was wrong when I did exactly what you told me to do." With this, he slammed the ice pack onto the floor in anger, ready to defend himself further if necessary.
Pappy Joe didn't bat an eyelash at this action. "No, what I told you to be was a man who proved himself to be a good person and was successful. Not a man who sinks to the level of dumb teenage boys who want a good fight."
"I didn't fight for no reason."
"I know. But it doesn't justify your actions, Lucas." Pappy Joe picked up the fallen ice pack and returned it to him. "Be a good man, but for now, I suggest you come up with a heavy measure of regret and apology, because you have a lot of explaining to do."
Lucas stared blankly at the swiftly setting sun, knowing he had to move now or face the consequence of his parents' anger. But, he couldn't until he had come to some decision. Pappy Joe was a huge risk to take, one that could affect his friends, and in turn his life. He had learned that the hard way already. The question was whether or not it was worth it.
Lucas shifted his gaze to a far off section of sidewalk, where there was a group of rowdy teenagers milling about. What caught his eye was a flash of blonde hair directly in the center of the group. It wasn't Maya, but it might as well have been, because that's all he needed to be sure.
He stood up and grabbed his backpack, promptly running down the stairs with determination. Lucas had to get home to finish assignments, because there was no way he was getting on that plane if he didn't complete his homework.