The dance is coming up and the day starts with Lucas, and you’re not surprised, because isn’t it usually all about Lucas, anyways?
Before you can take inventory of the situation, though, Matthews is about to give Riley the talk in front of everyone and you can’t help but quip out that he should show you all what he even actually knows, ‘cause you can’t imagine it’s much. You mean, look at him!
And, good Lord, the guy actually starts, but Riley cuts him off right away (thank God) and then everything just gets exciting as Lucas shoves his way in the class going off about how damn likable he is, and you kind of roll your eyes, amusing as this all may be.
Suddenly Farkle is yelling because the lesson plan has changed again and now Matthews is telling you about dates and what’s supposed to happen next, the kind of stuff Riley tells you about with dreamy reflective eyes when the sky is dark and hangs low and you’re laying on her floor, stuff about boys and girls and the way it’s supposed to be, the kind of stuff that doesn’t capture you like it does her, like dark movie theatres and hushed murmurs with stolen glances and holding hands with boys. Stuff that you should like. All so romantic when she gazes at the ceiling with a dopey smile and tells you about things you pretend to understand.
When you center your gravity again, Farkle is turning love into science as if it’s all that interchangeable, but in light of everything, you don’t hate him for it, because you know Riley doesn’t actually like him, anyways, so when he goes on, it doesn’t mean much.
And just like that, right in front of you, your history teacher takes a moment to seriously consider the offer of exchanging his only daughter for some farm animals from a boy she doesn’t even like, and you figure that yes, it must be a Thursday.
But Riley protests and you’re proud, because, hey, that’s your girl, until she declares “I will decide who I go on my first date with at such time if somebody asks me,” and Huckleberry raises his hand, and yeah, it’s gonna be a long few days.
“Why do you think he put his hand down?” She turns to you with big trusting eyes that tell you it’s your job to make it all better, and you lean back against the lockers.
“Because your dad wouldn’t call on him,” You laugh, because how hilarious is that? “And I don’t think he ever will again.” You shake your head with a grin because you know she wants to go with him, but even still, you get this kind of amusement watching him get shot down by Mr. Matthews. Which maybe is wrong of you.
Then she looks over at him and asks you why life isn’t simple anymore, and even though you’re supposed to have the answers to her questions, you can’t help but just want to agree with her, because why does it have to be like this?
Because the thing is that everything is about boys now, and that’s all she talks about anymore, and she’s your best friend, and you want to be able to know what she’s talking about, you want to be able to understand her, that’s the least you can do for her. You need a boy, A boy that you can like, to entertain your mind so that when she grins and talks with a soft voice for hours about what growing up really means, you can know what she means and feel what she feels, because that’s the way it should be by now, because that’s what’s supposed to happen: holding hands with boys.
So, a boy. You need to find a boy, and then it’ll all make sense. Which, theoretically, is not that hard. In practice? Lord help us all.
“When did all of this pressure happen?” You bite your lip and cross your arms and mean what you say for the first time in a while.
“Boys have it easy, they get to ask,” She states, and she kind of pulls you back to reality, because oh, yeah, that’s what you were talking about. Right. “Oh, yeah, they wouldn’t last a day in our shoes. Waiting for them to get the courage to ask us,” Riley scowls slightly.
“And then doing the vacuuming and ironing the babies,” You mock. “Riley, this isn’t the nineties anymore. You want something, you go get it,” and you don’t want to say it for some reason, but you want her to be happy, and Lucas will make her happy, so you say it anyways, even if it feels bitter in the back of your throat.
“You’re telling me you’re not a little bit afraid of this?” She asks, and it’s too serious and you feel like a liar a little when you deny it with one word, solid and as fast as you can manage.
“You’re saying that if you had feelings for someone, you wouldn’t be nervous?” She asks, and you wish she’d stop pressing the issue, because it’s like she knows something or she’s just rubbing it in or something now, and you don’t want to keep talking about this, so you try and think or holding hands with boys, instead.
“No, the only thing that makes me nervous is that the thing that everybody wants to happen never happens because everybody's too afraid to make it happen,” You say, and you hope that if you speak fast she’ll lose track of the whole conversation and move on, because usually that works well enough if you’re really trying, and you don’t want to talk about this anymore.
You don’t know what you’re doing, but you know that you want the situation to move on, so before you realize what you’re doing, you’re walking up to Lucas and Farkle and you pipe out “Hey, Ranger Rick,” like you’ve got some sort of plan.
He greets you back and calls you ‘other one,’ but you ignore it and keep going because you figure you’re on a roll. “You wanna go out with me?” It takes you a second to hear what you say but it’s said none the less, so it’s time to go with it and make it work, maybe.
He hesitates and you don’t blame him. “What?”
“Do you wanna take me to a movie and put our hands in the popcorn at the same time and see what happens, or what?” You list down the way that it’s supposed to go while Farkle runs over to Riley and, yes, it’s Thursday again.
Next, you’re at her window, and she’s calling you traitor, and you know this whole thing is gonna be exhausting already, but you’re pretty nearly sure of what you’re doing now, so how bad can it be?
“Traitor, me? Could this possibly be because I asked Lucas out?” You feign surprise.
“You asked Lucas out.” She repeats you with a dazed expression because she thinks this is all much different than it is, and you think that she thinks you see something in him, but you don’t.
Not anything at all, actually. Because Lucas may be handsome and athletic according to everyone else in the world, but you asked him out, you asked out a boy, and nothing. No butterflies, not that there was supposed to be- hollow chest, vacant face, empty- the way it always is with boys. Which, you know, thanks to Riley, is not the way it is supposed to feel.
But, see, the thing about boys, the problem with boys, or maybe the problem with you, is that even if they’re not ugly or something, it feels misdirected or something, like they weren’t made to be attractive to you or whatever, like they were intended and designed for other girls, and just not you. Like they’re not yours to like and look at and want, even if they should be. Like there’s not a boy that’s supposed to be yours some day, even though none of that even makes any sense. Hell, you barely know what you’re talking about anymore.
But Riley, Riley is different. And when she looks at Lucas, she does the whole butterflies, blushing, giggling thing, the whole deal, and now she’s sitting there just staring at you, ‘cause yeah, you asked Lucas out.
“What, you’re upset?” You look at her innocently, and you’re kind of impressed that you had that whole inner monolog run through your head in only a couple seconds and barely missed a beat even so.
“I’m beyond upset, I’m whatever the next one is!” She growls in a way that’s kind of cute, and you can’t help but give her a soft grin.
“What, you think he’s cute?” You tease, but your voice kind of cracks on the ‘what,’ and you absolutely hate it and you wish that it wouldn’t, but lucky for you, she’s too caught up in thoughts of her little boyfriend to bother noticing- okay, that sounds a little bitter, wanna maybe calm down?- and she moves on.
“He’s aight,” She shrugs and tries to play it cool, but you see the blush creeping across her face and your face softens for a minute as you smile fondly at her.
“What, you wanted him to ask you out?” You cock an expectant eyebrow and state the things you already knew, because of course she wants him to ask her out, he’s all she even talks about, and it sometimes kind of bugs you, even, not because you’re jealous or anything, but you’d think she could talk about something, anything other than some dumb boy.
“Maybe, but now you ruined my eight-year plan,” Riley says angrily, and yeah, maybe she really does care about him.
“Riles, you’ve been all goofy about Lucas since the day you fell on his lap on the subway,” You say, and it sounds like you’re trying to convince her of something, trying to convince yourself of something, ‘cause you know what’s gonna happen next, and you just hope it’s the right thing, but it doesn’t feel like it.
“You pushed me,” She retorts, and for some reason it stings and feels like a sour reminder, but she’s right, and that’s what you do, anyways- push her towards whatever will make her happy.
“And now I pushed him.” Yeah, you know what happens next.
“What do you mean?” She furrows her eyebrows and it kind of bugs you that she doesn’t trust that you have her best interest in mind when you doing this kind of hurts you, but you’re doing it regardless, and you don’t even have to in the first place.
“Don’t worry about it,” You tell her, because it won’t be long now before Mr. Prince Charming shows up all chivalrous looking like everything she deserves and asks her to the dance now, ‘cause there’s nothing that pushes a dumb boy like someone showing him exactly what he doesn’t want, right? That’s, like, rule number three.
“I am worried. I am worried about our friendship which you called into question on this day,” She says, and you almost scoff, because oh, God, give me a break.
You’d never do anything to ruin your friendship with her. Which, a voice in the back of your head says, is exactly why you need a boy. Right.
“Oh, alright, you wanna ask each other questions? Go ahead.” It comes out like a challenge almost.
“Why did you ask him?” She shoots back, and you don’t really have a good answer, ‘cause even if you know where this is going next, you didn’t know what you were doing when you first asked him.
“How long have you know me?” You question, leaning in, because there’s no better way to dodge around a question than with another question.
“Where are you taking him?” She presses.
“You think I would hurt you?” You dare her to say so.
“What’re you gonna wear?” She says, and she deflates a little, because she stills thinks you care about her little boyfriend who’s probably not even good enough for her, but all you care about it making her happy.
“You don’t think I have a bigger plan?” You ask, and you hate that she’d underestimate you.
“Can I at least be your maid of honor?” She pleads.
“Of course, when I marry anybody else in the world besides Ranger Rick,” You say, ignoring the annoying little voice in the back of your head that for some reason says you’d rather she be the bride, which is definitely weird and totally uncalled for and makes no sense, and, see, this is exactly why you need a boy!
“What, you’re just going to date him and then throw him away?” Clearly she thinks real high of you, huh?
“Hey, Whackjob?” You laugh.
“Yes?” She looks at you with those wide eyes.
“He doesn't want to go out with me. He's not going out with me. He's never going out with me,” You clarify, but you’re only half sure you’re still talking about him and not her, which sort of freaks you out, so you shrug it off and move on real fast.
She pauses. “Well, if he doesn’t want to out with you, do you not want me to go out with him?” Her voice softens into complete sincerity laced with a little concern, too, and you hate that she hit the nail on the head and you refrain from biting your lip because you shouldn’t feel like this and it’s making you mad.
“C’mere,” You say, because you can’t say anything else, and that’s all it takes to convince her, and she leans her head on your shoulder.
Christ, you’re a goner, because, yeah, butterflies and blushing and all of that stupid stuff, and your stomach lurches, and maybe this is how holding hands with boys is supposed to feel.
“Life is changing, isn’t it?” Open and trusting and expectant.
“Yes. But this never will.” You’ll find a way to make sure of that.
The doorbell rings and she sits up and whatever this was is over. “Who’s that? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“Oh, I was,” You muse, and here’s what happens next. Thursday. Right.
Lucas is at the door like you know he would be since he’s the prince and Riley’s the princess and that’s just the way it goes.
“Hi, Lucas,” She says with a smile, but her dad’s still blocking the door, apparently bound and determined not to let Lucas ask out Riley.
But he wouldn’t be Mr. Perfect if he didn’t decide that he’s here to talk to Matthews, ‘cause he wants to do this the ‘right way.’ You try not to roll your eyes. He’s here to ask Cory’s permission to ask Riley out, you’d bet anything, and you pretend the only reason it makes you mad is that you hate the idea that girls are something that have to be passed from man to man, because it definitely has nothing to do with him asking Riley out.
Matthews pushes him out, but it doesn’t take him much strength to push back in, and they do a funny little back and forth, but then the other shoe drops. “I’m asking you permission to ask out your daughter.”
Of course you were right.
But then it’s Topanga’s turn, and you think maybe she’ll crush the whole thing and then you can pretend to be disappointed for Riley, but- “Lucas, you are about the most charming young man I have ever met.” Right. So, no luck.
But, Topanga goes on, and you love how thrilled Riley looks with that shine on her face, so when you think Matthews is about to ruin it for her, you go to intervene. You repeat what he says to Topanga- “Mr. Matthews, we really need to talk."
“Good, help me!” He pleads, and that almost makes it too easy, but you’re better than that, (you think,) so you won’t ruin this for her.
Instead, you sit him down, and decide to have fun with it, instead. “When a father turns a certain age, things will start to happen that you don’t understand. It’ll confuse you, but it’s a magical time,” You smirk.
“Shut up!” He spits, which is probably fair.
“Look, don't worry. This is all normal, and it's just your body's way of telling you that you are a woman,” You chime with a devious grin. “Look, If it makes you feel any better, don't think of it as a date. Think of it as a beautiful fantasy world that only includes the two of them and not you anymore,” You shrug, but once more you think maybe you’re talking to yourself instead of him and that bugs you.
Fuck, you need a boy. Topanga walks over to you and says you’re fierce but Christ, you don’t feel like it, ‘cause you’re staring at Riley but she’s only interested in Lucas and everything is annoying. Ugh.
And then Josh walks in and you want to thank the universe because you need a boy and it said okay, and how hard can it possibly be? Because he’s tall and older and not ugly and he has Riley’s eyes, so he should be easy to like, so you do what girls are supposed to do when you like boys and your knees buckle an appropriate amount but Topanga catches you.
And then he says he’s staying for the summer and you fall again but then you’re back on your feet. And even though you do everything a girl with a crush on a boy is supposed to do, you think you should be happier, because he’s great, right? How could any girl not like him? And he’s attractive, you guess. And thinking that feels like an accomplishment.
And you know it probably shouldn’t. It shouldn’t be like this, you shouldn’t feel proud every time you can find a quality about a boy that’s not totally repulsive, liking boys shouldn’t feel like a scavenger hunt to find something okay, and it shouldn’t be this hard, you know it shouldn’t, but hey, maybe there’s just something wrong with you.
But maybe you’re just not trying hard enough, so when you make out the word party, you pipe up something about going to the party with him, even if you only half know what he’s talking about.
He shoots you down again like you always know he will, and suddenly you hear yourself rambling about something dumb you heard on the news and trying to act like girls with crushes on boys do even if you’re not making any sense and it doesn’t take you long to drive him out.
Lucas starts asking for Cory’s permission again until Riley’s brother runs in with his evident new bride and, yes, it’s boys and girls even in kindergarten, apparently. Pleasant reminder.
Farkle comes in ‘cause if it’s not Lucas then it’s some other boy, of course, and he announces to everyone that you asked out Lucas.
Matthews turns to you. “What? Why would you do that?” You almost laugh, ‘cause isn’t that a question for the masses?
“Because nobody does nothin’,” You try, giving a shrug.
“You lit the fire, huh?” Topanga asks.
You almost sigh, but don’t. “Somebody had to push these two kids together,” You force a pressed smile and Topanga tells you you’re fierce again and you don’t believe it.
And then, right before your eyes, Cory gives Lucas permission to take Riley to the dance, and frankly, you didn’t think it would get this far in the first place, but here you are, and she’s smiling and you’re trying to but it’s not working out.
But then there’s a condition, and you already know it can’t mean great things for you. “Uh oh,” You mutter.
And now, just to make sure Riley can go on her date with Ranger Rick, you have to go out with Farkle. Of course. And you try and act like your problem with it is just that he’s Farkle and not that he’s a boy, but you don’t really have yourself fooled.
But Riley is begging you and she’s so, so happy, and you just don’t know how to deny that, so you swallow your pride and everything else and say “yeah, fine,” and Farkle falls to the floor.
In the bakery Riley’s still gushing over how much she appreciates your small sacrifice. “I can't believe you'd let Farkle be your first date so Lucas can be mine.” Yeah, you’re such a martyr.
Briefly you explain to her that there’s no way you’re gonna let this little pity outing with Farkle be your first date, no matter what he thinks, but that seems to scare her, because she goes, “Does that mean that my first date with Lucas isn’t actually a date?” With those worried eyes of hers and all, and it’s time to reassure her again, even if it kind of stings in the back of your throat.
“No, no, your date with Lucas is serious right-of-passage, coming-of-age, growing-up stuff,” You promise, and then she asks you if she should be scared with these innocent, expectant, excited eyes.
You laugh a little. “Of Range Rick? Sure, honey, you be as scared as you like.” But of course she doesn’t have to be scared of Lucas. He’s perfect, this really Nice Guy who’s exactly what she wants and would never hurt her or make anything complicated for her. He’s what she wants.
She glances somewhere and her face drops completely. You raise an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t think you need to be anywhere near that scared,” You snicker slightly.
But she’s looking behind you now, instead, and then, real abrupt, tells you that the two of you have to go. “Why?” You ask, always one to protest.
You try to turn around to follow her gaze, but she won’t let you. “Maya, please. Do you trust me?”
“More than anyone in the world.” That’s the truth,
She tells you not to turn around, and you agree, until you don’t, because curiosity beats trust in most situations, and that’s just the truth, and anyways, you’re certainly not about to blindly listen to her when anything could be behind you, and she’s not even making sense.
You turn around and see Josh with some girl, and you remember that you’re supposed to care a whole lot, because that’s what girls do when they like boys, so you try to feel hurt and mutter something about Farkle, and the two of you leave while you try to ignore the blush spreading across your face as she puts her arm around you.
You climb in through her window about an hour before the dance and declare that you’re ready to get things over with. You get words of approval for your outfit, and you’re glad.
See, the more you thought about it, the more you began to think that maybe the whole ‘boy’ thing was mostly your fault, ‘cause really, you’re not even trying that hard anymore. So, eighty four percent it is, even if it’s just Farkle, because you should be trying.
You don’t tell Riley that- you ramble off something about it being a big deal to Farkle, like you care about common courtesy or something.
But then Riley brings up Josh again, and Christ, you still have to care about that, too? Life’s exhausting. You promise her you’re fine, and say something about burying it in your dungeon of sadness, as if Josh is anywhere near that important to you to warrant something like that.
Then, if only to deflate the situation, you add in a bit about your ballerina nightmares, and you figure the night can only get more interesting from there.
It’s not long before you find yourself in the subway station with Riley standing next to you looking stunning, and fuck, your breath hitches, and you hate it.
Farkle calls you back to reality when the two of you approach the boys, saying something about running towards each other, but you’re less than interested. Then Riley starts and it’s kind of adorable, but you hate that you think that, so you stop her, instead.
Farkle rambles but then Lucas says something mushy and dumb and you kind of hate him in the moment but Riley is absolutely smitten and you’re glad she’s happy but it still sort of hurts for some reason and it’s gnawing away at you and you’re pissed.
Lucky for you, the train comes just in time.
Inside the train Riley is happy and asks what could possibly go wrong, and then you see Josh, and as exhausted of this as you may be, you’d give anything to get away from Riley while she’s looking at Lucas all googley eyed like that, so you walk right on over, ‘cause anything’s got to be better than that.
You hear the girl Josh is talking to say something like ‘three years’ before she walks away, and you think that maybe the universe has a good sense of humor or something.
“She pulled the three-years-older thing on you, huh?” You give him a smirk. He plays the ‘oh poor me’ thing, and you nearly roll your eyes. He tells you it hurts, as if he actually cared about that girl on some deep emotional level or something, but then you hear him ask you if it hurts, too.
Your eyes drift to Riley, talking to Lucas with that dopey grin, and something in your chest churns. Does it hurt? You inhale deep. “A little, yeah.”
He asks you how you deal with it and you chime in again with your whole dungeon of sadness but you stopped paying attention to him because Riley’s become your whole world, and now she’s all you see, and it’s a sharp kind of pain that you’d rather ignore but can’t really muster that much willpower.
He asks if he’s in your dungeon, ‘cause he thinks he’s just that important, so you go ahead and humor him, ‘cause it’s probably the least you can do.
Josh walks away and suddenly it’s Riley by your side, instead, and it feels so much more right that it’s surreal, like this huge weight off of your chest, because you’re not pretending anymore, and it’s easy, somehow.
“What happened to your date?” You ask, and you’re glad it doesn’t come out smug like it sounds in your head as you grab the pole and look into her eyes.
“We had a good time, and then my best friend got all needy,” Riley says with a playful grin, and everything is right for the world (if only for a minute).
“Yeah, I know how that goes. Thanks for being there for me,” You say, and it’s all too honest even though you know that things are changing now, and you’ll never be to her what she is to you, and that hurts, and you hate to admit it, so you don’t right now, because you don’t want things to hurt right now.
She tells you she’s sure you’ll make it up to her someday, and you smile kind of sadly, ‘cause you know it’s not you she’s supposed to be with right now, and so you push her back to Lucas, and God, it nearly kills you.
You flinch when she kisses him, but you knew it’d end up like this. It always does.
It’s hours later and the sky is low and she’s talking about thing you just don’t understand again, and that’s how you really know something’s wrong with you, because she’s talking about boys and summer rain and beautiful things in this dreamy voice, and when you try and think of someone who makes you feel that way you only see her eyes, and you think you must be fucking dumb because she’s so happy, going on and on about Lucas, and your eyes sting and you’re nearly crying, and isn’t that absolutely ridiculous? Because you don’t cry, and especially not over someone else, and she’s happy, so you should be happy! You’re fucking ridiculous, and it’s not her fault you’re this way, so can you just stop ruining this for her?
You make your voice solid and hard and make some quip about Farkle, and she seems content with this, chirping about it being a magical night with that little voice of hers, and everything starts to hurt again.
“You realize, Maya, that life as we know it has changed?” She asks you, and she’s right, and you hate it, because things changing only means that this is going to get worse for you, and you can hardly bare to look at her, but you grit your teeth and push past it, anyways, and ask her if she’s scared. (You are.)
She tells you she’s not, since she has you, and it feels like a cruel joke when she puts her arm around you, because you know it’s never going to be the same. She’s too preoccupied with holding hands with boys, and she doesn’t love you like you love her, and coming to terms with that is the worst of it all.
It’s going to be a very long life.