Chapter 1: The Purest Expression of Grief
Summary:
THE REAL WORLD
Chapter Text
She had never been the type to lie, and Riley Matthews wasn’t gonna start now. She’d been hurt at her discovery of The Riley Matthews Committee. She had never thought of herself as particularly weak or unable to handle things. That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t sometimes a little bit ditzy, but she had long ago decided that ditzy wasn’t the worst thing to be- she’d far rather be called ditzy than cruel or boring or shallow. That was the word that was sticking in her mind tonight. She didn’t believe that she was shallow, not to any extent, but the events of the past days had thrown her for a loop. Not necessarily finding out what it was like to be on “the Other Side”, but more to find out what her friends thought of her. She understood that maybe she was seen as a little more immature than the others- because she’d grown up as a good girl in a good household- but she didn’t think that her inherent nature warranted this idea that Maya had come up with. The Riley Matthews Committee may have, once upon a time, been a sweet gesture on behalf of her best friend and her overprotective dad, but she was fourteen now and she deserved to know something about the world!
That Lucas had been part of it hurt her too- he hadn’t ever known her as a naive little girl, he didn’t have the excuse of still feeling overprotective of the little girl she’d once been! And sure, He had known her as a naive slightly taller girl, but that still didn’t give him the right to censor what she knew!
But, truly, it wasn’t Maya or her dad or Lucas that she was most mad at. No, that special position was reserved for one Farkle Minkus.
Farkle was all about pursuing the unknown. Farkle was the one who had explained to her why the only way to understand things was to hold them in front of a microscope. He’d always told her to push herself, had worked with her after the Science Class Debacle (that definitely deserved capital letters). He’d started bringing her over after school and explaining things like celestial coordinates and the Doppler shift and spectroscopic parallax. He was the one encouraging her to go out and learn more and change the world, more than any of them, and he’d set her on this track with safe search on. It broke her heart more than she really knew how to explain, because Farkle, of all her friends and family, was supposed to be the one who always wanted her to get better, instead of just wanting better for her.
She wondered how many slip-ups she’d made over the years that people had laughed at her for behind her back. As a general rule, she believed she handled her mistakes with a certain gracefulness (that maybe couldn’t be found in her actions, but so what?). But how could that be the truth if she didn’t know she was making them. She thought back over the last year alone, and she found plenty of incidents that left her cheeks burning a hideous bright red. Overhearing a conversation between Maya and Farkle about something called Black Lives Matter and having it immediately shut down when she walked in to join them. The thing with the fish. Letting Maya go out to that party- who knows what could have happened to them there, and Riley had only just scratched the surface of everything she needed to know.
And so, after the debate, after Zay had forgiven her (and she hadn’t let the public apology and the song be her only apology. Maybe that was what was expected of her, but she expected more of herself. She’d sat down with Zay, after school, privately, and talked through it with him. Zay was actually really funny, and he called her ‘sugar’ and ‘gumdrop’ and ‘cotton candy face’, which she thought was hilarious) she had done something she hadn’t done (to her mother's dismay) since Maya crawled in through her window. She locked it.
She would forgive Maya and Farkle, eventually. She wasn’t mean, and she knew her best friends had only had her best interests at heart. She’d already forgiven Lucas and her father, and her best friends meant so much more to her than she could put into words, so of course, she’d forgive them. But this weekend would be for her. Tonight, she’d take for herself, before the next drama started (and one would). Because that was what she needed.
Her mother called her down for dinner before she could start trawling through the depths of the internet, though. Maybe for the best. Her stomach was growling like nobody’s business, and she didn’t think she was strong enough to be in her room when Maya came down to say goodnight only to find the windows locked. Because if that happened- well, Riley knew she’d unlock the windows, and lie and say that she’d done it unthinkingly, and she’d let the whole Riley Matthews Committee thing go, and she didn’t want to do that. As she walked down the staircase she trailed her hand over the frames on the wall- newspaper articles from some of her mom’s biggest court cases. There were several from the beginning of her career that were just divorces, but as the dates grew more recent, Riley realised what kind of person her mother was. Protection Orders Against Domestic Violence and Termination of Parental Rights and Adoptions were her most common cases. Her mom was the one removing the kids from abusive households and making sure the women were kept safe, and there was Riley, stealing a cookie and smiling at people and thinking she was changing the world.
“Honey?” Her mother startled her from her thoughts, “Are you feeling okay? Normally you’re chowing down by now.”
Her mom smiled at her and Riley felt her heart melt. Topanga Matthews was truly one of a kind. Both her parents were, she thought, catching a glimpse of her dad, tucking a napkin into Auggie’s shirt so it wouldn’t get stained- “...is Maya coming over?”
Riley hadn’t followed her mother’s train of thought, but the question brought her back to a screeching halt. She loved her parents so much, she really did, but she was also angry. And it was her mom who had told her that she always had the right to be angry, wasn’t it? They’d kept stuff from her, important stuff, stuff about the world that she should know. Both of them had, even if her mom wasn’t on The Riley Matthews Committee. So Riley was angry, but she choked it down because her mom was smiling at her and dishing up spaghetti, and her dad was talking about the debate at school today (sometimes, to herself, she wished that she didn’t have to rehash the entire day’s events at home during dinner. Sometimes she wanted her life to be just her life, not hers and her dad’s. But she’d never say that because she was Riley Matthews with the good financial status and the good home life and what more could she ask for).
So Riley spouted off some excuse about how Maya was at the diner tonight, that she and her mother were trying to make up for the time they missed and how Maya had promised to bring her the leftover tuna melt (she tried to ignore how her mom sent her that look that meant ‘don’t take it because Maya has less money than us and can’t afford to give up food’). And so that was how the night went.
It was like any other family dinner, Riley thought, except for the fact that she could feel her laptop burning her from nearly a floor away, her startup tabs (Google Drive and Youtube) open next to current affairs. And the fact that she couldn’t draw her mind from Maya, who’d probably figured out what Riley was doing by now, and had since crawled back to her apartment, heartbroken. And that image was the one that left her dawdling downstairs long after she would normally have retreated to her bedroom. She stayed for two whole episodes of Impossible! even though Auggie knew more of the answers than she did and watching the game show with her family always made her feel more insecure. She even stayed until her parents broke out the port, and then still longer, talking with them until they chased her off to her bedroom, citing a needing a break from the drama.
It wasn’t that Riley didn’t want to learn more about the world without The Riley Committee sponsored safe search, because she did, more than anything. But she wasn’t stupid (no matter what the people in her class believed). She knew that doing this would change the dynamics of her friendships forever, and even though they were growing up, and she knew the dynamics of her friendships would change a million times more before she was done with high school, she liked this phase.
But still, this was something she had to wanted to do for herself. So she put on her pyjamas and shut off the lights and threw the knitted blanket her Gramma Rhiannon had knitted for her and she opened her laptop. Paris Accords to go Through said the first article. The EU Rebuffs Greece’s Demand for Austerity Relief said the next. Refugee Crisis in Europe Growing Worse- Why Won’t America Help? Racial Profiling in the US Hits All-Time High Donald Trump to Run for President in 2016 with Republican Party
The real estate mogul and TV reality star launched his presidential campaign Tuesday, ending more than two decades of persistent flirtation with the idea of running for the Oval Office.
"So, ladies and gentlemen, I am officially running for president of the United States, and we are going to make our country great again," Trump told the crowd in a lengthy and meandering 45-minute speech that hit on his signature issues like currency manipulation from China and job creation, while also taking shots at the president and his competitors on the Republican side.
"Sadly the American dream is dead," Trump said at the end of his speech. "But if I get elected president I will bring it back bigger and better and stronger than ever before."
Riley hadn’t ever really liked what she heard about Donald Trump, and this just proved her point. She read on, booking marking sites and exploring links. She even developed a tumblr (@daughterofhistory) and hit ‘follow’ on nearly a hundred blogs about activism and feminism and Black Lives Matter.
When the light broke through the bay window curtains, she squinted and rolled out of bed. It was a Saturday, and she had work to do. Downstairs her mom was already making pancakes, and her dad had gone to see Uncle Shawn. She plopped down next to Auggie and continued reading on her tablet (she’d also started a subscription to the New York Times and Mary Review).
All through breakfast, she spoke to no one. She continued her reading spree until she felt like she had run out of resources. And then she turned to historical articles, to summaries of the Assault Weapons Ban and the Watts riots and Stonewall. She ate without speaking, her reading monopolising her time.
Eventually, once Auggie had finished his breakfast (and even washed his own dishes!) and she’d cleaned up (half-heartedly, still reading about Tamir Rice and Malala) she turned to her mother, eyes wide and tablet nearly flat.
“Mom, can we go out?”
Chapter 2: Ain’t You Sick of Being Insecure
Summary:
CHANGE
Notes:
Hello everyone! I must say, I haven't felt this inspired to write in a while. Obviously, Girl Meets World just brings it out in me. I hope you enjoy the continuation of this fic. It's going to be a long one, I can promise you that. If you enjoyed it and wanted to let me know, please comment <3 I know how much effort it feels like to write a comment, so I really treasure each and every one (I write out my favourites and keep them in my phone case- or I did. I recently dropped my phone in the toilet)
Whipped Cream & Other Delights,
TheHarleyQueen
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Riley left the house, she was wearing one of the mom’s old outfits from the 90s- one of the few she had left that she broke out whenever she, dad and Uncle Shawn were setting out on some sort of adventure. She and her mom had sat and talked over The Plan for what felt like forever (really, it was more like an hour). Her mom hadn’t believed when Riley came to speak to her with three garbage bags full of clothes in her hands.
But Riley did know some things (contrary to popular opinion, apparently). And one of those things was most definitely, without a doubt, clothes. She knew that the Maya Hart New Winter Coat Fund™ wasn’t made because her best friend was selfish or mean or whatever everyone else said because Maya Hart’s Old Winter Coat™ was fraying around the bottom and the sleeves only came midway down her forearm. She also knew that she wore some of the most expensive clothes in their friend group. Most of Maya’s clothes were second hand, with the exception of a few choice pieces that were shared between her and her mom. She knew Farkle wore clothes costing between 20 and 2000 dollars. She knew Zay had more money than Lucas because even though Zay’s clothes also looked like they were from back home in Texas, they didn’t have the small patches sewn up, never had the mark of something that had been mended, unlike Lucas’s. She knew Smackle had more money than her clothes let on (because when she wore jewellery, it was quality stuff, unlike Riley’s, which were mostly made to look quality).
Because Riley’s thing had always been clothes. When it was just the three of them, Maya was the artist and Farkle was the genius and Riley was the one who dressed them when they went to go get their awards on stage. Now that it was the six of them and they were older, Maya was the artist and the beauty, and Farkle was the genius and the philanthropist, Lucas was the athlete and the handsome, Zay the clown and dancer, Smackle the brilliant and the lover. And Riley was still just Riley, the goofball who dressed everyone else up.
So no matter what her mom thought, this plan had actually been a long time coming, because every time Riley went out with her friends, she’d look down at her clothes and feel guilty, because she wasn’t Farkle who was giving away twice what he wore (which made it okay to wear clothes that cost more than some people’s rent). She was just Riley, who spent her allowance on clothes she didn’t need because they looked pretty, and that made her feel terrible. So this plan that she’d detailed to her mom, the one where she sold all her clothes, bought a new wardrobe back that was cheaper than the one she’d auctioned off, and gave the rest to charity, wasn’t the spur-of-the-moment Riley plan her mom thought it was.
And that was how Riley ended up leaving the house in an old outfit of her mom’s, with five black bags (she’d actually been deeper through her closet and found two more bags worth of clothes that she hadn’t worn in years) on the way to Demolition.
Since the “I’d like to sell all of my clothes please!” incident, she and her mom had actually created a pretty good working relationship with Aubrey (they came by Demolition often, helped to wash, fold and price the second-hand clothes while Mom gave Aubrey some basic lessons in law). So when Riley stepped into Demolition to sell all of her clothes a second time, she actually sat down with Aubrey and they negotiated until they came to a fair price (as mentioned earlier, one of the two things Riley had always known without a doubt was the value of clothes; the other was that Pluto was a planet) while her mom manned the register. It was a long process- Riley knew that she’d be giving a lot of money away in this plan (most of it her own) but she did need to make enough money off her clothes to go and buy some new stuff (she most certainly wasn’t thinking, on any level, about how giving away clothes still wasn’t enough to make up for all the mistakes she’d made over the years, the times when she hadn’t known any better that haunted her).
It was past midday when she and her mom left Demolition with more money than Riley had ever had at one time in her mom’s purse. Then it was time for the fun (Riley wasn’t thinking about how this shouldn’t be fun because she was atoning. She wasn’t).
Except.
So Riley did the only thing she could.
She and her mom spent the entire afternoon working through thrift stores. None of the outfits she bought screamed Riley at her, but she didn’t really want to be Riley anymore. Because Riley was “Smiley Riley” was “Ditzy Riley” was “Maya’s Best Friend Riley”, not “Riley Matthews: Her Own Person”. She wanted to be like everyone else, not the girl who had The Riley Matthews Committee because she was too naive to know about the world. And she was having fun, with her mom, who she saw less and less these days (she knew what their apartment cost, knew that they lived comfortably because of the time her mom put into her work). So Riley worked through the thrift stores with her mom, making sure that the clothes she bought left enough money for her to be able to donate a sizable sum at the end (because she didn’t want her mom to tell her dad tonight that she’d used something important as an excuse to get a new wardrobe. She could already hear the words flying around in her head and she knew her mom hadn't had a chance to say them).
It was 4:26 pm exactly when she found the jeans (she knew because her mom had said that they were going to the shelter at half-past-four, and Riley still needed one more pair of pants). They had rips in them, and not the artistic type. They looked as if they’d been made in the eighties, but Riley knew these jeans. She’d seen the girls with the signs saying “a woman’s place is in the revolution” in jeans like these. These were the jeans that would help her remember what she wanted to be. And they were on sale (they’d been lying in the store for nearly ten years, but the owner wasn’t going to tell Riley that. They were just happy to be rid of them). So Riley hurried over to the counter to pay, and her mom looked at her through the corner of her eye (“I can’t believe Riley wants to look like she’s homeless” she could hear her mom’s voice, but her mom wasn’t like that) but said nothing. And the owner smiled so wide that Riley decided that it didn’t matter if no one else liked the jeans, because she did, and she’d made someone else happy by buying them, and that was two people happier than before, so they couldn’t be terrible.
On their way home, Riley and her mom stopped by Help USA to donate the money that was leftover from selling Riley’s closet (the ballpark figure was $1000. Riley tried not to cringe when she thought about how selfish she’d been). And when they handed the sum over, Riley swore she’d come back, that she’d offer to help out in any way she could, because this what life was about (and she still had to atone). Knowing that she was, for once, helping someone made her feel like it didn’t matter what she’d said and done before because this was what she was supposed to be doing.
When they arrived back home, Riley kissed her mom on the cheek and thanked her softly, before heading up to her room to put away the new clothes.
Upstairs, she placed all the new clothes on her bed and threw open her closet. Steadily, she started hanging up all of her new clothes, humming under her breath. As she got into the song and the motions, she let her thoughts drift from her actions and into the future. Into school on Monday and The Riley Matthews Committee and the patriarchy. She was so in her head that she didn’t notice him slipping in through the window.
“Good afternoon, Riley,” came Farkle’s voice, from less than an inch behind her. She jumped, the top she was hanging flying across the room. But she smiled at him and hugged him close because she was still mad about The Riley Committee but they could talk about that. What they didn’t need to talk about was that they were still friends. That they always would be.
“I see you went shopping,” he smiled, walking across the room to pick up the shirt and grabbing the hanger from her, moving to help her with her task. This was what she loved about Farkle; they were always so in sync. He was really a great person (unlike you). She smiled and picked up the next thing on the bed- a pair of leggings.
“Yeah. Mom and I wanted to spend some time together,” she paused, allowing him to take the hanger from her while she went and collected new clothes to hang, “...Farkle?” She began, before thinking better of it. But there was a chance that he was truly a robot because he seemed to notice that something was off, “Yeah, Riles?” Everyone called her Riles, but she liked it best when Farkle (and Maya) did it. After all, he was the first one who’d ever done it- “do you ever feel bad that we have more money than our friends?” She asked in one rushed breath. But thankfully, he didn’t make her repeat it (he’s good like that). Rather, he sat down, right where he was, and patted the floor next to him, motioning for her to join him. When she did, he started to braid her hair (it was something she’d taught him a long time ago. Now, whenever he was upset or thinking very hard, he braided her hair. It was a tradition).
After a lengthy silence, he spoke, “sometimes.” He took a hairband from around her wrist and tied the simple braid together, before looking her in the eyes. Riley squirmed where she was sitting, fiddling with the end of the braid.
“I know it’s not something I did wrong- or something they did wrong- to mean that I have more money than them. But when I see a discoloured patch on Lucas’s jeans that mean that they’ve had to be mended again, or when I “donate” to Maya’s new winter coat fund… yeah, I feel bad. And I want to do more for them, but I know they wouldn’t want me to. So I don’t say anything,” he smiled softly at her, even as she undid and redid his braid (her own nervous habit), “why?”
But Riley couldn’t answer that. She didn’t even know why she was feeling so guilty about it today. She’d wanted to do one thing; donate to Help USA. She’d done that, but she didn’t feel any better. She still had more than Maya, more that she didn’t deserve. So she changed the subject.
“I was really mad at you about the Riley Committee thing.”
Farkle blinked in confusion before his face softened and he let her divert the topic. They needed to talk about this anyway, “Yeah, I know.”
But she pushed herself up to pace around her room, needing to work her frustration out, “It’s embarrassing, Farkle! There’s important stuff that I didn’t know about! You said you’d always want me to get better, but keeping me from the world isn’t doing that! I’m not a little girl, and it hurt that you thought that of me!” He didn’t respond, sensing that there was more to be said on her part, before they could reasonably talk about it.
“Farkle, do you have any clue what it was like to suddenly learn that your friends think that you can’t handle anything? That you’re a- a child that needs to be protected? I understand my dad keeping stuff from me, okay. He’s always been overprotective. I even understand Maya doing it- I’m her good influence or something, and maybe she was scared that I wouldn’t want to be the good influence if I knew what the world was like- and maybe that’s true! But you, of all people, Farkle, should know that I want to make my own decisions. And you took that away from me! How could you?” She broke off when her throat blocked up with tears. She wasn’t going to cry about this. She wasn’t that weak.
But when Farkle stood up and pulled her against him in a sturdy hug, she couldn’t stop herself. She let out a choked sob.
“I’ve been thinking about everything,” he whispered to her, “and you’re right. I did the wrong thing. I had tons of chances to tell you and I didn’t. And that was wrong. But I can’t undo it. Can you forgive me?” And she pulled back and smiled at him softly because of course, she could. He was Farkle. She’d forgive him for anything.
They exchanged a smile and went back to hanging up Riley’s new clothes, silently, side by side.
When she felt comfortable in her routine, she began talking again, softly. He knew not to interrupt her, “I sold all my old clothes today. I bought this stuff from thrift stores and second-hand shops. I don’t want to be the girl whose most important part of her is the way she dresses, anymore. I gave the rest of the money away. I felt guilty about having expensive clothes I didn’t need when people are out there starving.”
Farkle didn’t say anything (what would he say, really? It’s true. You should feel guilty) he just smiled at her and began to hum.
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun
When they were done, Farkle placed a soft kiss against her forehead and whispered in her ear- “you will always be more than how you dress, Riles. I love you.”
{That moment would change their world. They didn’t know it yet, though.}
He crawled out through the window (no one really knew how much time she and Farkle spent together. Between him climbing through her window and her going over for lessons in astronomy, they had grown closer than most knew). She smiled after him.
Not a minute later, Maya climbed through the same window and began her speech about what Riley would not do tomorrow. She never noticed that Riley’s entire life had changed last night. But then again, Riley was really good at hiding things.
For example, when something felt wrong the next morning, and she couldn’t find Barry the Bear, she hid it.
Riley was good at hiding things.
Notes:
Bonus:
Chapter 3: Like Graffiti on the Walls of the Heartland
Summary:
THE GREAT LADY OF NEW YORK
Notes:
Well, I'm writing two tests and an exam this week, but I'm doing this instead of studying. What can you do?
If you enjoy this, please consider commenting, even if it's one word.
Whipped Cream & Other Delights,
TheHarleyQueen
Chapter Text
THE GREAT LADY OF NEW YORK read the chalkboard. Of course; it was Culture Week, so of course, her dad would deviate from the syllabus. She loved him to pieces, but sometimes she wondered if he actually had a teaching plan other than Belgium, 1831. And Riley was pretty certain she already knew exactly how this Culture Week was going to go. This wasn’t her first rodeo.
When she was four, her nursery school teacher had told them to go find out where their family came from, and dress up in that style for the concert (where they, of course, performed the iconic This Land is Your Land). Riley had stood on the stage in her favourite dress, but had still looked out-of-place next to the bright huipil of the girl next to her or the IsiNene and iBheshu of the boy behind her. Riley knew that she wasn’t the Great Lady of anywhere. She was from New York, and Philadelphia, and San Francisco, and so on. The United States of America seemed to be all the Matthews/Lawrences had ever known.
But still, Riley put on a smile, as her dad reminded her that everyone had a story, even though, whenever she asked, their story was cream cheese and the Liberty Bell. She had long ago googled where her parents’ last names came from, and that only ever led to the vague answer of Europe. So, yes, she had a pretty good idea of how Culture Week went down in her family. She wouldn’t bother asking again. Rather, she’d listen quietly as Maya bumbled her way through the history of the Statue of Liberty and Nigel spoke about his grandmother’s history. She’d play along with her dad so that he could introduce his assignment.
Through the rest of the school day, she couldn’t keep her mind from Culture Week. Booths were steadily being set up through the halls, and she daydreamed through English and Maths, turning her mind to the more difficult problem of making her presentation good enough to get a reasonable grade, even though her Matthews and Lawrence heritage was nothing to be excited over.
Even though she spent the entire day thinking (with the exception of science. She’d learnt that she couldn’t let her attention drift for even a moment in Science, or her grade would most certainly make a drop from an A to an A-. You made a big deal about being good enough in this subject, now you have to prove it), but it was only in her last class of the day that an actual plan started to form. They were supposed to be learning to draw human figures (but Maya had already deviated into a human figure curled up in the foetal position, and a tin of purple paint with the letters RILEY MATTHEWS stamped on had been left on her desk). But Riley wasn’t in a purple cat mood, and her human figure would never be completed. Rather, her shoulder blade became a clasp and her hipbone became the first of the stripes, and before she knew it, she was lost in a different world, Hallelujah blaring through her headphones, adjusting proportions and colours until it was perfect (she was so in her head that she didn’t even notice when Mr Jackson briefly glanced over her work, expecting to see another purple cat, only to be brought to a halt by the piece on Riley’s sketch pad. She didn’t notice when he stood behind her for nearly two minutes, the kind of time he usually only spent on students like Maya and Lucas, who would probably take art as a full-time subject next year). And when the bell rang, she stuffed her pencils into her bag and nearly ran out the door, only for Mr Jackson to stop her and ask her to remain behind. She did so (she would never disobey a teacher) thoughts frantically racing about how to explain away that she hadn’t done the assignment, but not even to paint a purple cat. She didn’t need to, though.
“Can I see that dress again, Ms Matthews?” he asked her, voice betraying nothing. She silently pulled the sketch pad from her bag and showed it to him. It was the only drawing inside, even though they’d done six or seven sketch pieces in class already. Mr Jackson said nothing about that, simply taking a pencil from his desk and adjusting a few of the measurements and notes Riley had made about the material that would be required to make the dress. He handed the pad back to her and she put it away before he spoke again.
“Ms Matthews, I don’t normally do this kind of thing. I believe that to be an artist, one should know all aspects of art, even if you don’t use any of them. But you have a real talent in a difficult field of art. So I’ll make you a deal.” He met her eyes and smiled, “If you can make that dress, as it is on the paper, I’ll mark you on the dress instead of the task you were supposed to do.”
He clearly wasn’t mad about that fact that she hadn’t done what she was supposed to, and for a moment, Riley understood why Maya and Lucas both enjoyed art. When you were told you’d done something good, and original, it felt amazing. When she was in middle school, she’d always tried to garner that praise in art. When that hadn’t worked, she’d decided to stick with the purple cats anyway, hoping to at least be commended for her dedication. When that, too, hadn’t worked, she’d felt it was too late to return to what everyone else did in art. If she did, she was sure there would be an intervention in history class, and she hadn’t wanted to sit through another of those. So purple cats it was.
But now, after being told that something she did in art meant something, Riley thought that she might actually enjoy art as a subject. She smiled at Mr Jackson and nodded before leaving the classroom, without a word. She didn’t think that there was anything to be said.
It was only when she was outside that she remembered the other reason she didn’t like art class. Because, even though she was with Lucas (and she was happy. She was!) and Maya and Josh were in it for the long game, and Maya and Zay were in it for the short game (and that was an interesting development on Sunday), art class was like the fireside for Maya and Lucas. Where they bonded. Where she felt like Lucas chose wrong.
“What are we talking about?” she asked as she joined the conversation. Lucas and Maya immediately went silent, stifling giggles (they were talking about you. You’re pathetic).
“Nothing, Riles. Just joking around,” but again, she shot Lucas one of their Art-Class-Fireplace Looks and Riley thought she’d never felt more alone, even surrounded by people.
“Anyhow. Are we going to Topanga’s? As good a place as any to do research, right?” Maya asked, smiling at her. Riley smiled back at her best friend (she still hasn’t brought up the new clothes. And why should she? It’s not her problem), “I’ll meet you there, Peaches. I’ve got something to do first.”
Maya blinked at her in surprise, but then smiled and hooked her arm into Lucas’s. He himself (who’s said nothing to you yet) pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before walking with Maya, tipping an imaginary cowboy hat and calling her ma’am. Riley smiled sadly after them (can’t blame them for not being interested in you. Just look at your history. You’re not interesting) before walking a couple of paces behind them to the school doors (it doesn’t matter that you’re all going in the same direction. You don’t have to walk together. You’re not a super-possessive girlfriend who’s jealous when her boyfriend talks to his friends).
Riley did not know where to find material. She probably should have been done ages ago. School had ended nearly two hours ago, now, and all she had found was material printed with the American flag. She needed actual material, needed thread, needed a clasp. And she was stuck. She didn’t know why she’d ever thought this was a good idea- she didn’t even know how to sew! She was going to fail tomorrow and look stupid on Friday and Mr Jackson would be disappointed in her and she didn’t even have a sewing machine and she couldn’t even ask her parents to help because neither her mom or dad knew how to sew, because- well, there was an idea.
She pulled out her phone and dialled the only person who could possibly help her right now.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Hi, Uncle Shawn. It’s Riley,” (it didn’t sting that he didn’t have her number, even though he had Maya’s. It didn’t).
“Hey, baby-Cory! What can I help you with today?”
“Mom and dad say you know how to sew, and I need help.”
“You need help sewing something?”
“No, I need to learn how to sew before tomorrow. I have to make a dress.”
On the other end of the line, Shawn Hunter blinked in surprise. Well, no one ever said that the child of Cory and Topanga would be a reasonable, easy-going child.
“Uh, well, you can come over, I guess? We’ll have a lot of work to do.”
“But I don’t have the material yet!” Riley cried into the phone, biting at her fingernails.
“I think we’ll have to do a lot of work before you’re ready to make a dress, kiddo. Does it have to be done by tomorrow?”
Riley bit her lip, a piece of her nail between her teeth, “I could probably get dad to push my presentation back to Friday,” she murmured timidly.
“Perfect! You know where I live. See you in-”
“Twenty minutes.”
“See you in twenty minutes, baby Cory!”
Riley hung up the phone and hurried over to the cash register to pay for the flag material. She’d need it eventually, she knew. Made sense to just buy it now.
In her hurry, she completely forgot that she’d agreed to meet at Topanga’s.
It was past ten when the door to Maya’s apartment opened. Well, she was here for Shawn, but in her head, it would always be Maya’s apartment (even though she knew that they were looking to move). She and Uncle Shawn had been buried in the technicalities of sewing for hours.
She’d already called her parents to assure them she was fine, just spending the night at Maya’s. Uncle Shawn had offered her grilled cheese for dinner and she’d accepted. Over dinner, he’d told her why he knew how to sew. She’d known he grew up poor, but hearing it from him, about the trailer park and needing to mend all his own clothes because he didn’t have a parent who could do it for him, made her appreciate him all over again. He was her Uncle Shawn, and no matter how awkward they’d once been together, they loved each other.
It was after ten, past Maya’s curfew, and he was trying not to show it, but Uncle Shawn had been glancing at the clock every few minutes, worried about his pseudo-step-daughter. But when the key clicked in the lock and Maya came in, she was happy and light. She spoke to someone in the hall, softly, and closed the door behind her on a good note.
“Oh, hey Riles! We missed you at Topanga’s. Your mom said you were busy, though, so we didn’t want to bother you,” she frowned, leaving small lines between her brows, “were you waiting for me?” And Riley couldn’t say anything, because she’d placed a name with the voice from the hall. Lucas had walked Maya home (but that meant nothing, right? The triangle was over). But she didn’t have to answer, because, at that same moment, Katy Hunter brushed through the door behind her daughter, taking up the room with her busy personality (Riley loved Maya’s mom. She was always so happy). Riley just resumed her lesson on seam allowances. She stayed up with her Uncle Shawn the whole night, long after her best friend had gone to bed (after pillaging the kitchen for potatoes. Riley wasn’t quite sure what that was about).
It was nearing six am when Uncle Shawn stood up and pulled her up by the shoulders.
“Now, my young Padawan,” he began, smiling proudly, “go out into the world. Sew everything you can. Just don’t sew your fingers together.” They shared a smile and yawn, and Riley knew it would be another school day without any sleep (but it was worth it, and she’d been surviving off less and less sleep recently. It was taking longer to fall asleep, her thoughts plagued by Real World Problems).
Riley left Maya’s house for the subway at seven. She borrowed a set of Maya’s clothes and ate a slice of toast at the Hunter-Hart household, and promised her Uncle Shawn she’d be back after school to steal the sewing machine. She walked next to her best friend, and they spoke about Maya’s presentation plan, how she was going to hand out potatoes and show off Irish soap (Riley didn’t have the heart to point out that bagpipes were Scottish. For all she knew, Maya had done it on purpose). They also stopped at a convenience store on the way to school and Riley bought some cheese (throwing cheese at people would definitely convince her dad that they all needed to redo the project).
Riley was great at being the old Riley, the pre-knowledge of The Riley Committee Riley. But as she said the words “Riley McCheese”, she saw how Farkle’s face fell, and knew that she’d need to talk to her lab partner, her best friend, privately.
It was a lot of work to corner him though. Eventually, while she was taking notes in science, she scribbled a note (between the definition of a Brønsted-Lowry acid), asking him to join her on her hunt for material after school. Farkle could never say no to her.
And that was how she’d found herself comparing linings in a fabric store while Farkle Minkus braided her hair. What he’d found the previous day must have been beyond upsetting for him, because he’d braided her hair three times already, starting with a french and then a dutch and then a fishtail. Now he was working on a lattice braid while consulting Riley on colours. She let him. He’d talk when he was ready.
She was right about that. As he walked her to Maya’s apartment, her hair in one of the most complicated braids she’d ever seen, he quietly whispered to her about the Danish Minkus's, (Minki, she could hear Maya saying) and how he was pretty sure they were Jewish. He told her what little he knew about his great-grandfather, who’d left Denmark to escape the Nazis (as best he could tell). And even as Riley’s heart broke listening to him (he sounded so lost. Like he didn’t know who he was anymore. She supposed that that was true. In another life, Farkle may have been Jewish), her resolve strengthened to make this dress. Because her presentation would be about Farkle’s great-grandfather, and Nigel’s grandmother, and Zay’s ancestors (she didn’t know what he’d find, yet, but she was sure it was nothing good).
She spent the whole night finishing the dress. Farkle sat next to her, researching. And she’d missed another night at Topanga’s, missed possible anecdotes and missed Lucas and Maya, but she needed to do this. All her life, when heritage days came around, she was just Riley Matthews of America. This time, she’d be more. This time, she’d be the Great Lady of New York.
Uncle Shawn helped her with the dress too. She did the big pieces, but he attached the cape, he stitched the fleur-de-lis onto the shoulder (the Statue of Liberty is French, after all).
And maybe Maya was confused to walk into her house and see her two best friends sitting side by side, but she didn’t comment, didn’t pry. There was something about this Culture Week that had changed them, and she didn’t know how to reach them. Rather, she retreated to her room (and Riley didn’t think about how she wasn’t good enough company for Maya. Rather, she smiled and kissed Farkle on the nose when he pointed out a misdone stitch and texted Zay about Ghana) while Riley and Farkle finished their presentations for the next day. Something the two of them, who had thought that they had no story, only to realise their stories were some of the greatest, needed to do together.
The next day, the five of them walked through the Culture Fair, walking between the Cambodian and Irish and Ghanan and Flemish booths (Lucas had tracked his last name back to the people of Flanders), and Riley knew she’d chosen the right way to present her topic (there was no America booth), because she saw how sad Farkle was to have missed his heritage. So when the speaker told her to “get outta here!” Riley gave Farkle a tight hug and slipped away from her friends to get dressed. History was her last class today. But she’d be taking the dress to Mr Jackson after school.
She missed Maya’s presentation (you’re a terrible friend) but this was important to her, and she couldn’t let it go, not for anyone. And when her dad called her name up, she tentatively entered the classroom, her train behind her, her stomach fluttering, her dress tight (“go big or go home, baby Cory,” Uncle Shawn had said when she and Farkle left last night). The class stared, and she was afraid she’d lost her voice, but then Farkle smiled at her and she felt like she was on top of the world. Her best friends believed in her, how could she not be?
“Almost everyone in the USA today is an immigrant. We all came from somewhere,” she began. She locked eyes with Farkle. He’d helped her research the history of the country. He believed in her idea, “my ancestors took the land from the people it belonged to and killed them. There is only 10% of the Native American population left. And then my ancestors stayed here for so long that they can’t really be considered anything other than American.” Between sentences, she took deep breaths. This is a good idea, she told herself (even as she could feel the anxiety that came with a bad grade crawling up inside her) this is a real story.
“My ancestors’ stories aren’t great ones. They’re cruel. But my story, today, is that I am American. I am made of all of the people in all of the colonies and all of the states,” she gestured to her dress, “because that’s what the United States comes down to. People change people. The secret of life.” She smiled at her dad, but couldn’t read his face. She swallowed and continued, “The Matthews and Lawrence families originate from somewhere in Europe, but they’re American. That’s a great story. That a million tiny things, and millions of people, had to influence everyone’s lives to bring me to this point. America doesn’t have a booth in Cultural Week because we’re every culture.”
She smiled at the class, holding eye contact with Nigel and Zay and Farkle (and she tried to make eye contact with Lucas, but he wasn’t looking at her), “Once upon a time, Riley Matthews lived in New York City. Because of that, she lived everywhere.”
She took her seat, and her dad looked up from his marking sheet, “Thanks, Riley.” Then he spoke more directly to the class, “Go on. Get outta here.”
And as her classmates walked past her, they brushed her dress and smiled at her, and Riley thought she’d made a real difference.
And eventually, she left too, to admire the portrait that had given the idea in the first place. Farkle stood behind her, and Zay, Lucas, and Maya behind them. And when the other three questioned his history, she took his hand and held it tight as he told the story of his great-grandfather, his eyes fixed on a spot above their heads. And when the final bell rang, Riley pulled him into a tight hug.
It was only that night when she discovered why Lucas wouldn’t make eye contact with her during her presentation. She’d called him to wish him goodnight when he brought it up.
“Actually, Riles, can we talk about your presentation today?”
“Sure,” she responded, making herself more comfortable, “but I do have to go to bed soon. I’ve had, like, six hours of sleep in the last two days”. To prove her point, she stifled a yawn.
“Yeah, I’ll be quick. Look, it made me look really bad when you brought that stuff up, okay?”
Except it wasn’t okay, because she didn’t even understand what he was talking about. But when she voiced as much, he just continued, “Yeah. Look, my ancestors were those guys, okay. I’m a white guy from Texas. My ancestors had slaves. They were part of the Confederacy. All of it. And bringing all that bad blood up… I felt like everyone was looking at me weirdly, okay. It’s like… I get you wanted to establish yourself, and whatever, but like, I wish you’d asked if it was okay with me first, you know?”
And Riley had so much she wanted to say. It’s my history too, Lucas. We can’t run from the past. It’s weirder that you’re running from it than that it happened. But it wasn’t her place. Maybe he did feel uncomfortable. So instead, she said, “No one thinks that of you. You’re Mr Perfect in everyone’s eyes. And I know that’s not always ideal, but I promise that everyone knows you’re nothing like the people I was talking about.”
Lucas said nothing, though, and she didn’t know what more to do. So she wished him goodnight and hung up.
Sleep wouldn’t find her that night, though. Rather, she would lie for a couple of hours before turning on her laptop and writing a blog post about her day. She fell asleep around three in the morning, laptop on her stomach.
Sleepless nights were becoming more and more frequent for Riley Matthews.
Chapter 4: They’re So Pretty, It Hurts
Summary:
THE SAGA COMMITTEE
Notes:
I am completely overwhelmed by the support this story is getting! I'm so glad all of you enjoy it. I'm really trying hard to make the characters true to life instead of two dimensional (all of them, even Lucas and Maya and Smackle) so I try and put a lot of time into each chapter.
Also, there's a book mentioned in this chapter: A Guide to Gender: The Social Justice Advocate's Handbook . You can get it online for free, and I really recommend you do. It's absolutely amazing.
Whipped Cream & Other Delights,
TheHarleyQueen
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Riley had first learnt about the LGBT+ community when she was six-and-a-half. The addition to her education came at the heels of her walking in on Uncle Eric (who was temporarily staying with them) and kind-of-Uncle Jack kissing on the couch. Uncle Eric had sat down with her and told her that some boys liked boys (and some girls liked girls) the same way mommy and daddy liked each other. Then kind-of-Uncle Jack told her that some girls were born in boy’s bodies, and vice versa.
Uncle Eric had told kind-of-Uncle Jack that he was lumping too much on her at a time, but Riley had taken it in her stride. All that had changed was her vocabulary. Even at six-years-old (six-and-a-half!) Riley incorporated they/them pronouns into her daily speech. She also made sure to ask any new friends about their pronouns. It wasn’t hard, but everything she did made Uncle Eric really happy, and now he kissed kind-of-Uncle Jack when he left for work, and he talked about dates with his boyfriend, and he was happy.
When Riley was fourteen, the Supreme Court of the United States legalised same-sex marriage in all fifty states.
She hadn’t expected it. She’d read a little bit about Obergefell v. Hodges but it had been a trying week and by Friday morning, she was tired and couldn’t deal and overworked and wanted the week to be over. And for a couple of hours, it seemed like it was going to be another ordinary Friday. Lucas walked her to class (he was talking about something, something that was probably important and Riley should be listening, but her head was somewhere far too high in the clouds to listen. And she tried, she really did, but at that moment focusing on Lucas seemed like it would require more energy than she had- than she’d ever had) and Maya smiled at her and made comments that Riley was too tired to curb.
Not that she’d stop Maya from doing what she did anyway. Riley adored Maya. Farkle had once said Riley was like the sun and Maya was like the moon, but he was wrong because Maya was Riley’s sun and all her stars, what kept her breathing and alive and something. So that was the one time Farkle was wrong, because Maya was the sun, who gave life, and Riley was the Earth, who took what she could and stayed near the sun.
She was in History when the day turned around for the better.
It was 10:10 when Uncle Eric burst into the classroom, Josh right on his tail (she’d long since given up calling him Uncle Josh, mostly because people looked at her funny when she did. She knew he was only three when she was born, but Josh had somehow always been an Uncle figure to her- not to be confused with her other Uncle figure, of course).
“Pack your stuff, neech, we have a family emergency!” he called out. He and Josh were both wearing about a billion colours; Uncle Eric had on a rainbow sweater, rainbow sneakers, and had somehow managed to find rainbow pants. Comparatively, Josh was dressed down, only in jeans, a three-tone shirt, and glitter.
“I’m her family. I think I’d know if there was a family emergency,” her dad told her Uncle, but Uncle Eric just pushed Josh over to help her with her stuff and smiled at her dad, “Listen, Cor, I’ve never asked you for much. But I have a neech-related emergency. I need a Riley.” And, well, her dad’s weak spot was always family. As she walked out, she placed a kiss on his cheek and he reminded her that she had to be back by the end of school.
After that, she and Uncle Eric and Josh were running to the subway, “What’s going on?” She tried to ask, but her uncles just shouted at her to keep up, so she put her recent growth spurt to use and ran.
It was only when they were on the subway, headed to Times Square when Riley finally got the story out of Josh between pants.
“The… supreme court… legalised gay… marriage,” he huffed out, but that was all she needed. Today was a good day; how could a day when something so amazing happened be anything else? So while they were on the subway she got Uncle Eric to do her hair nicely, and she texted Farkle to let him know about the verdict, and then she sat in a happy silence until they reached the station, at which point the three of them tumbled out onto the street and into (what Riley supposed was) the middle of an impromptu pride parade. There were stalls and people yelling and people crying, and she was pretty certain that that couple over there was straight-up getting married, but it was awesome. She’d never been to New York Pride before, her parents had always said that she was too young, but she figured that for a first-ever pride parade, this one was pretty good.
Then Uncle Eric was going to find Uncle Jack (they still weren’t married, but now that they could, all over the country, it was only a matter of time) and Josh was pulling her over to a small group of temporary stalls and browsing through rainbow gear and merch.
While he was picking out face paints, Josh turned to her and mumbled, “You know I’m pansexual, hey Riles? And you’re okay with that?” And at that moment he was so nervous, and all she could possibly do was throw her arms around his neck and hug him tight, “Yeah, it’s okay with me, Uncle Josh.” (He still smiled when she said it).
And when she felt other bodies piling onto the hug and pulled away to see Uncle Eric and Uncle Jack and Uncle Shawn (who had apparently been with Uncle Jack) she laughed out loud, because she wasn’t sure that there was anything more beautiful.
And the Uncle Eric presented her with a shirt that read ‘I LOVE MY GAY UNCLES’, and shouted, “For you to wear today! I’ll buy you something else if you’d rather have that!” and Riley knew that there was only one thing that could possibly make this day any better, so she pulled out another shirt instead, “I was thinking of maybe getting this one?”
“World’s Okayest Bisexual,” Uncle Eric read aloud, before realising what she was telling them. And so Riley was pulled into another queer-Matthews-family hug, but not before Josh had pulled the shirt out of her hand and replaced it with another, one with a pink sword and a protest sign on the front that read ‘BI-FURIOUS’.
“Much more your style,” Uncle Shawn commented.
And so Riley turned back to the parade, slipping the new shirt on over her other clothes.
Later in the day, Josh would paint the bi flag on her cheek, and Uncle Eric would sprinkle glitter in her hair, and she’d dance to Hayley Kiyoko. Later that day, she’d drag her uncles back to her school, to drop her off before her last class of the day (art) started, and they’d all dance together to one last song on the subway. Later that day, Maya would see Josh and wave at him through the school window, and Josh would suddenly be distracted (and Riley wouldn’t think that she was getting left behind by everyone. This was their thing, and she refused to let herself ruin it).
These days, Riley Matthews might have a day that ranged from anywhere between top-of-the-world to so-low-you-can’t-move.
This was one of the (steadily fewer) top-of-the-world days.
On the day Riley was challenged by Maya to make a new friend, something changed. She’d picked a girl she’d met before (even though Maya was unaware). She knew Chai- they’d spoken before. Chai was at Pride. Chai had hugged her, wearing a rainbow knit sweater. She knew Chai, but she would have liked to know her better, to know small things like her favourite colour instead of just big things like her sexuality. She’d been struck by Chai, her pretty clothes and her pale blue eyes and her long legs. And when Chai didn’t like her (didn’t like her at all) and all Riley could really remember was Her- Her texts and Her voice and when She told Riley she should “Get out of my school, freak!”
But Riley acted well (well, acted Riley) and made it out to be about someone not liking her, instead of someone lying to her face.
Riley had spoken to her mom about it and her mom had been… Topanga Matthews about it (when it was later revealed that Chai’s family had four accounts of tax evasion, Riley would never admit to being happy).
She’d spoken to Lucas and he’d been unsympathetic. He’d tried to help, but Riley didn’t think that there was anyone in the world who didn’t like Lucas (except her, sometimes).
She’d spoken to Zay, but he’d told her to run away from her problems.
She’d spoken to Smackle, who’d been more concerned about whether this was happening to her.
She’d spoken to Farkle as they stargazed in the day, and he’d just smiled softly and told her that a lot of people didn’t like him and that he’d had to learn to live with it (she’d rolled on top of him and hugged him tightly, trying to tell herself that she’d never let go).
She’d asked Maya, but Maya was perfectly content with their friend circle as it was, and didn’t understand why Riley wanted a new friend so badly (didn’t understand that this wasn’t about a new friend anymore, that it was about a girl who Riley had felt a connection with, a girl who was lying).
Now, before anything more was said, Riley would never cheat on Lucas. She wouldn’t. She didn’t want to be a selfish-greedy bisexual (she was already a selfish-greedy human). But maybe… maybe she had a crush on Chai, a little one, and while she’d never act on it while she was with Lucas (would never act on it at all if Chai continued to hate her) a small, small part of her needed to know that it wasn’t just Lucas. She liked girls, but she didn’t think that girls liked her back (or at least, that was what Chai was proving- why’s she lying?).
It may have taken a week (a week filled with many other dramas) but when Riley finally got Chai to come around (they weren’t friends, not even close, but Chai smiled and Riley was counting it) it felt like a hollow victory. Riley felt shallow again, two sides warring within her (it’s just a crush, you wouldn’t have acted on it versus you betrayed Lucas after causing so much drama over him, you shouldn’t be having these feelings while you’re in a relationship, you’re a terrible person, you’re the reason bisexuals get a bad name) it was obvious which side was winning.
Her week had suddenly fallen to so-low-you-can’t-move.
Between the newly-dubbed ‘Trials of Chai’, there was Health Class. Originally, she’d felt she was raising a valid concern. “I don’t want to meet you” wasn’t exactly a great way to start a compulsory class that taught her something that was important to the way of the world.
The thing was: Riley didn’t like Coach Fanucchi. At first, she didn’t like Coach Fanucchi because he didn’t like them. But ten minutes into their lecture on page 73, she didn’t like him because he would be the reason that they didn’t learn anything, and that would make him the reason someone suffered. His complete lack of input on the subject would result in someone making a stupid choice, and then a girl somewhere might end up like Sage (who Riley liked, who was eating lunch in her dad’s class now, who was crying in a bathroom stall on Breakup Monday for a completely different reason to all the other girls) or they’d end up like Kyle (two years above them, he’d been rushed to the hospital in the middle of her dad’s class on the Civil War, only to be told that his vomiting was a rare symptom of the HIV he’d contracted somewhere).
Either way, at least one student in this class would end up like Uncle Shawn (completely repressed, embarrassed to admit that they may not be cishet) because the statistics said two in twenty, and Riley was one. Because this course, for what little it did say, glossed over twice the amount of that information. Coach Fanucchi didn’t mention contraceptives beyond condoms, didn’t cover safe sex beyond not having it until marriage, and didn’t bring up the LGBT+ community either way.
So yes, Riley used her privilege as a teacher’s kid and asked her dad to talk to Coach Fanucchi, but instead, she got her dad talking about soup and Smackle describing page 73 with an enthusiasm that was surely only found in erotica. And Riley had heard about the terrible standard of sex ed in America, but she’d somehow not thought it would happen to her.
And the story of Health Class and Chai blended together in her head until it was three in the morning and Riley couldn’t sleep, too busy thinking about how much her school sucked.
It also led to Riley creating her own committee.
There weren’t many kids at the first meeting of the Sexuality and Gender Acceptance Committee that Riley hosted. She didn’t expect there to be. She’d fought through hell to get the committee to be allowed, but she hadn’t been allowed to openly advertise it (the principal said that it was “inappropriate brainwashing” - it had taken Riley threatening him with the superintendent of schools to even get permission to hold the meeting).
But she tried her best with what she had. She hung up a rainbow flag at the back of the classroom (a class that was usually used for art theory, and so there was nothing in the room aside from a couple of desks and chairs). She baked cookies with rainbow m&ms and served jelly tots and three different shades of kool-aid. She brought several memory sticks with copies of A Guide to Gender: The Social Justice Advocate's Handbook and Love, Simon.
In the end, ten kids showed up. Farkle, Zay, and Smackle (who stated quite plainly when she came through the door that Farkle had insisted she come, even though she didn’t want to), a sophomore lesbian couple (one of whom had purple hair!), a junior who sat quietly in the corner in dungarees wearing a badge that said ‘ASK ME ABOUT MY PRONOUNS’, a girl in a flowy dress that Riley absolutely loved, and, to Riley’s immense shock, Thor, Nikki and Francesca.
So she put on a brave face (to be honest, she’d expected maybe Farkle) and her new T-shirt, and stood up to speak.
“Um… good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to the first meeting of the Sexuality and Gender Acceptance Committee, or SAGA for short. I didn’t expect such a huge turnout, and I’m so glad all of you came. I want this group to be a safe space, and even though I’m not allowed to have meetings during school hours, I’m truly touched that all of you took the time and effort to show up after school.” She gave a soft smile and was gratified when the two sophomores and the junior smiled back at her.
“So when I was googling how to start one of these, they recommended we go around and introduce ourselves. Um, I’ll start, and then hopefully you’ll all catch on?” She asked it as a question, but no one said anything in response, so she took it as a go-ahead, “So, I just want everyone to remember that you don’t have to say anything that makes you uncomfortable or anything you’re unsure of. So, uh, I’m Riley. I’m a freshman, I’m bisexual and I use she/her pronouns. Also, my favourite show is Red Planet Diaries.”
She looked around, hoping someone would pick up from her without a cue. There was silence. She was about to ask Farkle to go next, when the kid in the corner spoke up, “I’m Ashley. I’m a junior. I use they/them pronouns, and I’m pretty sure I’m genderqueer. A fun fact… I, uh, love photography.”
And that opened the floodgates, allowing the others to introduce themselves and be sure that there wouldn’t be judgement.
The sophomores introduced themselves as Emma and Mila. Emma had purple hair and they both used she/her pronouns. Emma owned three cats and Mila collected snowglobes. They also confirmed the rumours Riley had heard, saying that they were both lesbians.
The girl in the cool dress introduced herself as Heather. She was transgender, used she/her pronouns and didn’t know how to ride a bike.
Zay said that he was an ally, used he/him pronouns, and did ballet (Riley wanted to say it didn’t count because she already knew that, but relented).
Farkle also said ally and he/him, but he didn’t do ballet (that Riley knew of. The boy knew the Waltz, the Foxtrot and the Cha Cha, so she wouldn’t be surprised). Rather, he did his entire introduction in six languages: English, Spanish, Dutch, German, Mandarin Chinese and Sesotho.
Smackle said she used female pronouns and that she was also an ally, and said something about all the joints in her hand being hypermobile.
When the attention of the room turned to the three seniors, Thor took both Nikki and Francesca’s hand and pressed a kiss to each of them. They each said their names and their pronouns, and then Nikki started speaking, “So the three of us are polyamorous. Um, I’m bi and Francesca is -” her girlfriend broke in to announce that she was demisexual, but liked boys and girls, “and Thor is just really straight and proud to have two girlfriends.”
They started answering Heather’s questions, and Mila joined in on their conversation every now and then. Riley struck up a conversation with Ashley about their outfit and Zay and Emma helped begin an in-depth discussion on the merits of dungarees, which Farkle followed confusedly.
Later, the two groups sort of merged into one and began a discussion on the lack of LGBT+ focus in Health Class, and Nikki and Francesca shared what knowledge they had garnered over their years of research. It was all that Riley had hoped for.
When everyone left at four, Farkle stayed behind to help her clean up. He was talking animatedly, and as he tied the flag into a short skirt over her leggings using an over-complicated knot, Riley smiled.
She brought a college student, a photographer, and the Mayor of New York in for the second meeting of the SAGA committee.
Two meetings later, Chai sat through a meeting. She didn’t talk to anyone, only listened, and she introduced herself as an ally. But it was a start, and Riley thought very firmly that the SAGA Committee was a far better investment than The Riley Committee.
Notes:
Because this fanfiction is set to address several real-life situations (including but not limited to depression, being LGBT+, ADHD), I want to clear some things up before I really dive into that stuff. I don't have ADHD, so all my information there will come from research and first-hand accounts (I do have a close friend that has really severe ADHD, so I do ask him about this stuff, but I want it to be known that I'm doing my best to represent it with what information I do have). However, I have been diagnosed with mild Depression and I am LGBT (if you're curious, I identify as queer) and so everything in those veins is a mix of research and personal experience.
Whipped Cream & Other Delights,
TheHarleyQueen
Chapter 5: All The Kids are Depressed, Nothing Ever Makes Sense
Summary:
SECRETS
Notes:
I hope you guys like this. This is really the start of Riley's depression/ADHD arc. I owe you guys such a big thanks for everything you say. It really, truly inspires me to write more, and longer. I was checking my page count, and this story so far has five chapter and is already several pages longer than the longest story from my Seven Deadly Sins verse, and that's down to the commenters (not that the people who commented on the Seven Deadly Sins verse weren't amazing, but you all very clearly relate to these characters, and I love you for that).
Whipped Cream & Other Delights,
TheHarleyQueen
Chapter Text
“I love working hard to achieve positive changes in the human condition.”
Well, fuck.
Riley took stock of the situation she found herself in: It was a Monday morning. She was dressed (+2 points for being able to get dressed today). She was sitting next to Maya (+4 points for socialising when you didn’t have to) and she’d done her homework (+100 points. That’s hard). She’d watched… a lot of Red Planet Diaries over the weekend in preparation for the finale today.
Her mom was mad at her (-1 000 000 points).
So instead of doing what she wanted, and watching the last four episodes, she silently picked up her school bag. She couldn’t challenge her mom. There were lots of things Riley could do now. She could sew and dance and name the stars (not with Riley names, but with their real names). But one thing she would never be able to do, for as long as she lived, would be to stand up to Topanga Lawrence Matthews.
She fantasized about it, sometimes. When her mom got really intense, when she wouldn’t believe Riley no matter how many times she swore something to be true, when she looked at the 77% Riley got in Biology and said that Riley should get a distinction, regardless of the 94% she had for Science, Riley imagined standing up to her mom, telling her no, telling her how angry and frustrated and heartbroken her mom could make her. But she never would, not even when other people told her that her mom was being unreasonable, not even when other people told her how they stood up to their parents - Riley Matthews would never defy Topanga Lawrence Matthews (attorney at law).
Then again, it wasn’t limited to her mom. Riley rarely stood up to her dad, too. Her dad may have been less frightening than her mom (by a long shot) but he was her dad, and that was to be respected. Her dad didn’t shout or fight the way her mom did, but his decision was always final. And Riley, for all she thought it was unfair, accepted that. Because they were her parents and that was how she’d been raised.
So, when her mom hustled her and Maya out the window, Riley didn’t come back, not like she wanted to, not like Maya suggested. She just left, her mom calling out behind her about being in the bakery directly after school. Riley would be there because she was the good daughter and that role meant more to the people around her than she did.
On the way to school, Riley tried to stay silent. She just… didn’t want to talk. Maya chattered on about the Red Planet Diaries, and Riley let her, smiling and nodding when it was required of her, planning the scenario she’d just left over and over in her head. What if she hadn’t left, what if she’d told her mother no, ...what if?
They met Lucas on the subway, and when she pressed a kiss to his lips and asked how his weekend was, he smiled back and told her that he’d flown down to Texas (she should have known that). He told her about Major, the stallion he’d always ridden before he left, and how good it felt to be on his back again. And Riley (like she always did when Lucas came back from Texas) sat there and looked pretty and felt stupid. But when he asked her about her weekend, she started gushing about Red Planet Diaries, and all was well.
At school, Riley asked Emma how her weekend was and Maya rolled her eyes (neither Maya nor Lucas were a part of SAGA, but Riley didn’t blame them- they had art classes at the same time). And Riley waved at Thor, Nikki and Francesca and they waved back, and Lucas hissed under his breath that he still didn’t like them and didn’t know why she did. And maybe Riley was still in her head about the thing with her mom, but she’d done this before, gone through the paces when all she wanted to do was curl up and die, and no one had noticed then. She’d make sure that nobody noticed now.
As she walked into class, she tried to take stock of what the ‘life lesson’ would be. There was no drama in her life (that other people could see)... she had no idea where the lesson would go.
On the chalkboard, it said THE COLD WAR
“So as it turns out,” her dad began, standing up from his desk, “There’s actually a syllabus I have to teach at this here high school. And it’s mainly about the Cold War.”
“Now,” he continues, facing the class with a sense of glee, “Who can tell me about the most important battle in the Cold War?” And Riley isn’t an idiot, knows this is a trick question, knows Farkle will answer it correctly and still, Maya puts her hand up. This is how they are.
“Fourth of July, 1776,” Maya responds proudly, and Riley knows she’s doing it because Riley’s dad thinks it’s funny. True to form, her dad bursts into laughter and Riley remembers last Christmas when her mom was saying that her whole life has been dad passing her over for his best friend, and now all Riley can think is same. Except it’s her being passed over for her own best friend, and that seems to make things infinitely worse.
Right on cue, her father asks Farkle for the correct answer, and Farkle tells them that there were no battles in the Cold War, that it was a war between ideologies, and her dad sweeps away with that, but all Riley can think about is her own war of ideologies, fighting for herself or listening to her mom, and how is it that even when he’s not trying, her dad’s lessons are about her life?
She drifts through the rest of the day, her thoughts too loud and the lights too bright. She can’t focus on what her teachers are saying and she strays in and out of her friends’ conversations. The meticulous notes she takes in Science seem like a Herculean task but she does them anyway, her mom’s disappointed face when she saw the biology mark at the forefront of her mind. In Art, she can’t even be bothered to look like she’s putting in effort, especially not when she’s sitting next to Maya, who draws and paints whatever she wants and makes it look so easy, so she puts her head down on her arms and puts in her headphones, telling herself that the still life they’re supposed to do can be done… later. Whenever. Some time that’s not now.
When she leaves Art for the cafeteria, she walks side-by-side with Lucas, and they chat quietly but Riley isn’t really saying anything, isn’t hearing the conversation. The buzz of the school is too great, and she wants to cry because she’s so tired and nothing makes sense anymore.
She can’t stomach her food, too. She can’t eat but then she thinks about the people who really can’t eat, who don’t have access to food, and she tries to swallow even the smallest amount of her cafeteria meal but the food turns to ash in her mouth and her throat closes up, and she can’t do anything but run to the bathroom (she has to escape, has to get out, can’t can’t can’t) and she knows, without looking, that Farkle will be the only one to follow her because Maya is… somewhere, again, and she shoved Lucas’s arm off her when she stood up, so he’ll be angry about that (God, she has issues, but Lucas the Good is always so angry).
But Riley ducks into a girl’s bathroom stall and fumbles with the lock, and then it’s just her, finally, and she can just sit there, against the dirty, tiled floor and the bathroom door, her head between her knees, sore and uncomfortable but too tired to shift even an inch.
She doesn’t think that Farkle will follow her in, but eventually, the warning bell rings and he does, he comes and sits by the door and she’s sure that people are looking at him strangely, but she can’t possibly get up and go to class now. For once in her life, she can’t pretend everything’s normal, because just the idea of standing up and going to class makes her want to burst into tears, but she’s too tired to do even that, she sits there and she’s way past getting a tardy, she’ll be getting detention for this, but she can’t seem to bring herself to care. And Farkle just sits and leans against the door and whispers to her softly, asks her to open the door and let him in, asks her if she wants to go home, tells her to breathe with him. It’s all generic platitudes, he must have read somewhere what to do when your friend has gone completely insane, but she lets him talk, and eventually, his voice soothes into being stable enough that she feels she can stand up and then open the door. To his credit, Farkle doesn’t immediately try to pull her into an embrace, sensing that she doesn’t want to (can’t) be touched.
Instead, Farkle just calls his driver and they go back to his house, and at that moment she’s sure he’s her entire support structure. They lie on his floor and look at the stars as they drift, so, so slowly and he doesn’t make her talk, just lies there with her. At that moment, she wants to give Farkle a friendship ring of his own.
Riley never shows up to Topanga’s at 2:30 sharp.
When Riley comes through the door at half-past five, she’s done her homework (+20 points- Farkle helped) and she walked home (+5 points for exercise!). But her mom’s sitting at the dining table, and Riley realises a couple of things in very quick succession.
Firstly: she left school with no letter, no explanation, nothing.
Secondly: she switched her phone off after telling her parents she was with Farkle.
Thirdly: she was supposed to help out at the bakery this afternoon.
“So, you decided to not show up at the bakery?” her mother asks, and it’s a cold fury that fills her voice. Riley gulps and steels herself for the fast-approaching scolding, but she says nothing.
“You decided that rewatching your show was more important than helping me?” And Riley can’t explain that she wasn’t watching the show, because she has no excuse. She can’t tell her mom that… what? She ditched school because she was feeling bad?
“Don’t you have anything to say in your defence?” All she can do is shake her head, but her mother goes on, “I’m going to ground you for three weeks. You sat in the bay window for three days. No computer, no phone, no finale. You sit here, and you think about how maybe you are a good person now, but it’s because your parents raised you right! And we helped you make all of the right decisions- except for this one! So you sit, and you think, and if you think correctly, at the end of three weeks, I’ll get an apology.”
And Riley can’t even say that it’s unfair because she ditched school and she ditched her mom and she deserves this. So she hands over her phone silently (her mom already has her laptop, she’s sure) and walks up to her room, closing the door softly behind her, and finally, she let the tears fall (but silently, silently, no one must know).
When Riley walks into history the next day, they're all talking about the finale. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t mention that she hasn’t watched it, but rather nods along politely and doesn’t contribute to the discussion, but Farkle must know something’s up because he doesn’t talk either (he’s not grounded, his parents don’t pay enough attention to care when they got a call from the school saying Farkle wasn’t in class- they just said he’d gone home early, and that was that).
The board said 25 DECEMBER, 1991.
“Sometimes, a diplomatic solution is preferable to the terrible cost of war,” and Riley recognises that and she knows what this is about - not just Mikhail Gorbachev, but the fact that Riley was told to come home directly after school today, but she had a SAGA meeting (when she’d told her mom that, her mom had said it would go on without her, but Riley didn’t know that, and so she had to go).
History was her last class of the day, and SAGA was directly after that. Since the first meeting, she started catering a little less, but she still always pinned the flag up and brought the main topic. The Committee had changed a bit since she’d first started it. Emma, Mila, Heather, and Ashley all still attended, but Smackle didn’t come anymore, and Chai had since joined, as well as a gay senior called Noah- Nikki’s twin brother.
That was how Riley ended up walking through her front door at 4:30, her mother’s furious face directly in front of her.
“I would like to begin with the peace talks.” It was a weak start - Riley was definitely in the wrong this time - but at least it was a start.
“Is this an apology?” It wasn’t, because Riley didn’t need to be apologising for this. For yesterday, maybe. But not for this. It was a diplomatic solution.
Eventually, they talked for a while. Riley didn’t tell her mom why she’d left school- she couldn’t. She spouted something about Farkle needing her help, and it was good enough for her parents. She agreed that leaving school early and not coming to the bakery was wrong, but refused to apologise for directly disobeying an instruction today, even when her mom asked her to. So they compromised. Being grounded for two weeks (starting today) excluding the SAGA Committee.
“I love you too.”
And she took it in her stride, she thought. And she took the time to read a book Farkle had leant her: Cosmos, by Carl Sagan. She was never going to stand up to her mom. If she had any say in it, she was never going to tell anyone the way she’d felt yesterday. That wasn’t Riley of her, it didn’t make sense, she didn’t have a reason to feel like that.
Riley’s monster was a lot scarier than her mother.
Chapter 6: My Soul, So Cynical
Summary:
PANIC DISORDER
Notes:
This had less content than I would have liked, but I was really stuck on this chapter. I do, however, have some really good content coming up, so I'm content to let this chapter build the world a little bit.
Whipped Cream & Other Delights
TheHarleyQueen
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
WARNING: BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT RILEY HAS TWO PANIC ATTACKS IN THIS CHAPTER. THEY ARE NOT PARTICULARLY GRAPHIC, BUT IF YOU ARE WORRIED, THERE IS A SUMMARY OF THE CHAPTER AT THE END.
The day after her sentence was over, Riley went to Farkle’s house... apartment… floor. They were lounging in a blanket fort, watching The Theory of Everything on Farkle’s movie TV (not to be confused with his gaming TV. It was Farkle’s worst-kept secret that his parents tried to buy his love to excuse them from not being around). Riley had watched it when it came out and immediately thought of Farkle. He had refused to watch it though, saying that he didn’t want to affect his opinion of Hawking’s work with an emotional opinion about Hawking himself. She’d been pestering him about watching the movie for the last year, every single time they had a movie night, and when she’d opened her mouth to begin the well-worn argument, he’d surprised her by agreeing to watch it, right off the bat. Hell, he’d even brought out the disk- he’d been prepared. She would have questioned that, too, but then he’d flashed her a crooked grin and tossed her a bag of microwavable popcorn, and she’d let it slide.
But she couldn’t keep her attention on the movie. At first, she’d only looked over once or twice to make sure he was paying attention, wasn’t just humouring her by playing the movie. Then she’d noticed how into it he seemed and started glancing over semi-regularly to see his reaction to a particular scene. Now, they were three-quarters of the way through and she hadn’t looked at the screen in five minutes, too taken with how taken he was with the film.
When the credits started to roll, they left it. It was a time-honoured tradition of Riley/Maya/Farkle to play a movie until it was completely over, and that included all of the credits. So they stared at each other, tears glistening in Farkle’s eyes, while ‘Arrival of the Birds’ played around them. Then Farkle pulled her against his side and pressed a kiss against her cheek, burrowing his face into her hair. In response, she tucked her face into his neck, and they lay there, wrapped in blankets until the sounds of the movie faded out entirely.
“Riley,” Farkle whispered, and she knew what he wanted to talk about- two weeks ago, when she’d gone completely mad in the cafeteria, which had resulted in her getting grounded for two weeks. She mumbled a response against his skin, “Riley, I think you have a panic disorder.”
Just like that, her entire world came crashing down onto her. She wrenched away from him, scrambling to collect her shoes and hastily pulling them on, managing to put them on the wrong feet and then struggling to correct her mistake. In her madness, Farkle wrapped his thin arms around her, making it impossible for her to move. She hadn’t realised, before, how strong Farkle actually was (she knew he’s had a personal trainer from a very young age, his parents more concerned with how his image affected their social circles than their own son) and now she couldn’t pull herself from his grasp. He started whispering nothings into her ear, his chest rising and falling against her back, and slowly, she matched her breath to his, her eyes fluttering shut. He was her height and still growing, well on his way to being six feet.
When she came back into herself, she realised that he was whispering symptoms against her skin.
“-heart rate, feeling of choking, abdominal distress, sensations of shortness of breath or smothering, fear of losing control or “going crazy”, chest pain, feeling lightheaded, chills or heat sensations, derealisation or depersonalisation. Riley, you had a panic attack.” She rested her head on his shoulder, keeping her eyes closed. She wasn’t broken. She hadn’t had a panic attack. She didn’t have a reason to.
He kept his arms wrapped around her, pinning hers to her sides.
“Look, Riley, I can’t tell you what to do, but-” She didn’t want to hear it. She’d had been in life skills in middle school, had heard the ‘correct steps’ for dealing with a friend with a problem for three years in a row.
“No, Farkle you can’t,” she turned herself in his grasp so that their breath was occupying the same space, “I- the- Farkle, whatever the hell happened two weeks ago, you can’t tell anyone. Please, I’m begging you. If you love me at all-” and she could see the pain in his, because she knew he loved her and she kept using this against him, “you won’t tell anyone about what happened in the bathroom. Please, Farkle.” She could feel the tears dripping off her chin, could feel the sticky track on her face, and she could see that Farkle’s eyes were also brimming with unshed tears, but this was so much bigger than them, and she didn’t want this to become who they were, keeping secrets from the rest of their group, but the very thought of two weeks ago left her cold and scared and feeling like her chest had closed down.
“But, Riley, if it happens again-”
“If it happens again, I’ll deal with it. Everyone else has enough to deal with. Maya’s stressed because her mom’s up for a role, Lucas is having problems in his classes, and Zay has a recital coming up. I’m not putting this on them.”
Farkle just pulled her tighter against him and said nothing. She didn’t try to make him. She didn’t know when everything got so complicated.
She was in Chemistry the next time she felt that wrongness. Quickly, the lights became too bright, the white fluorescent baring her soul to the class. She was hit by a brick wall of fear and she wanted to claw out her trachea, wanted to breathe, felt like she was going to die, right there in Chem, with Farkle’s eyes dancing over her in worry.
The bench they were sitting at was too hard, and her notes in front of her, carefully plain and readable (she had terrible handwriting, usually) didn’t look like anything she had ever seen before. She felt like she was floating, and dying, and she couldn't look away from the ink-stained corner of her notes.
From nowhere, she remembered a moment last year when she’d been joking around and had said- “Please direct me to the edge of the earth. I assume it’s near the river.” Well, she was in the middle of the river, off the edge of the world, then, because she was drowning and all the wanted to do was bring her knees up against her and to press her head into Farkle’s chest.
And Farkle, her sweet, intuitive Farkle, he stood up and quietly spoke to Ms Murphy and tried to lead her out of class, whispering to her to wrap one of her arms around her abdomen, to make it look like she was ill (she was ill, she was dying). But she couldn’t, she’d miss the class and wouldn’t understand the notes, how did he not understand this? It took a hurried, whispered debate, but eventually, she conceded to go to the medbay if Farkle stayed in Chemistry to take notes. He sighed, but sat back on the bench stool, promising to pack up her things if the period ended and she wasn’t back.
Riley didn’t go to the nurse.
Rather, she ducked into the first bathroom she could find, bending over one of the porcelain sinks, breathing heavily. She splashed cold water across her face, but the droplets just clung to her eyelashes and made them too thick and made it look like she’d been crying {all she wanted to do was cry}. She dug her fingers into her hair and placed her weight on the sink, and suddenly breathing wasn’t the hardest concept she knew anymore, but rather standing up, taking her weight by herself. Strains of songs floated through her head.
When the bathroom door slammed open and she caught sight of Farkle standing just outside the bathroom, she finally let go, heaving sobs racking her body and heavy tears falling from her eyes. She let him gather her up in those thin, strong arms. She and Farkle sunk to the floor together, the cold, dirty floor coming up to meet them.
He held her as she sobbed, and she had never been more grateful that she and Farkle were the only ones from their group in the Chemistry slot this year, because she was already seeing her dad’s blackboard covered in names like J.K. ROWLING and PRINCESS DIANA, because if Maya and Lucas were in this class, this would have been reported to her dad before the bell rang.
This time, Riley didn’t have the privilege of leaving school, of going to lie on Farkle’s bed and do nothing. This time, she had to pick herself up off the floor when the bell rang, had to wipe her eyes on her forearms and splash more water on her face and then walk off to English, because going to the nurse meant her dad finding out, and not going to the nurse meant ditching school.
So after Chemistry, Riley just… went on with her day. She sat next to Maya in English and giggled and gossiped, and she let Lucas wrap his arm around her at lunch, let him press small kisses to her cheek and her lips and her neck (even though they were sitting with Farkle and Maya and Zay and Smackle and it didn’t seem appropriate to her) because she thought it was cute that he liked her so much. She went to History after recess and sat through another Career Day {in one universe, Maya had kidnapped Anastasia Boulangerie so that her mother would get a better chance at the role written for her. In this timeline, Maya didn’t kidnap anyone, and Bobbie Jo Thibodeaux was never reunited with Katy Grace Clutterbucket after Anastasia Boulangerie came into the picture, in this universe, Katy Hunter got the part in the movie because Anastasia Boulangerie remembered being Bobbie Jo Thibodeaux, but the role in Heart, 2016 didn’t kickstart the acting career she’d once dreamt of- that was okay, though, because Katy Hunter had different dreams from Katy Grace Clutterbucket and was perfectly happy with her wonderful daughter and her wonderful husband}.
She went to Topanga’s after school, with Maya, and the girls sat at their table for hours, working on their assigned essays for Lord of the Flies. Lucas came by to join them after JV Football practice and Maya moved to a different couch to give them space to sit together (and maybe Riley missed Maya’s soft warmth pressed against her thigh, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to sit next to her boyfriend). She smiled at Farkle when he came in with Smackle after he finished with Debate club and she with Chess club (the couple had agreed to take up different extracurriculars so as not to completely dominate all other competition in their respective activities), and grinned at him when he bought her a danish and pulled out his Chemistry notes and began to copy them for her.
Really, it was like Chemistry had never happened. And Riley couldn’t have been more grateful.
Her date with Lucas was lovely. They’d both been busy, him with football and her with SAGA and studying, and they hadn’t had a chance to go on a date (just the two of them) in over a month. But it was sweet. The place was just down the road from Topanga’s, but even that small distance guaranteed them that Maya’s mom wouldn’t be spying on them and reporting back to her mother. They sat cross-legged on couches and ate from a menu that was basically an assortment of takeout food (she got Chinese, he got a good strong American burger).
They talked about everything and nothing, really. They shared theories about the Red Planet Diaries finale and she talked about her and Maya’s plans for the weekend (they were running lines with Maya’s mom, as Morgan and Richard, the B Story romance between Katelyn’s daughter and her best friend in Heart). She did her ‘male voice’ and Lucas made fun of the overtly Texan Lachlan’s lines- “I’m wearing my cowboy hat!”.
And… she really, really liked Lucas. She enjoyed spending time with him and liked talking about the farm his family owned and the stories he came back with, liked splitting ice cream with him, liked everything about him.
That was why she was so shocked when their date became the next time she- had a panic attack (really, she couldn’t deny it anymore). She couldn’t have said why- she couldn’t pinpoint the downwards spiral on a specific moment. She remembered a Justin Bieber song playing, remembered Lucas calling the waitress over and asking politely for the check, remembered smoothing her sweaty palms down on the denim skirt she was wearing, remembered excusing herself to the bathroom after paying before they left.
After that- there was a gap, really. Somewhere in her walk to the bathroom, her pace picked up until she was nearly sprinting to lock herself in the bathroom stall, where she sat on the toilet, head resting in her hands as she tried to breathe slowly, to calm her racing heart. She massaged her temples and tried to think but she was shaking and her breath was coming in heaving gasps. It felt like her lungs had locked themselves up, felt like a hand had reached inside her and was twisting the organs just below her ribcage. She hated it. She’d been on dates with Lucas before, had never had a problem. She fumbled over her phone, unlocking the screen and sending Farkle a single message.
But even as she watched the ticks, begging God to let them appear as blue, the message didn’t deliver, so she had to be the one to slow her breathing, the way he’d coached her. She had to leave the bathroom before she felt ready because she couldn’t let anything on, and she had to put on her face, without the help of her best friend {since when had Farkle been given the title of Best Friend without Maya being mentioned in the same sentence?}.
Riley wouldn’t always have Farkle to rely on- couldn’t. That wasn’t how the world worked. But even when Riley was swept away by the river’s currents, she had his advice. His advice steered her to the shore of the river, away from the edge of her world.
Notes:
This chapter starts two weeks after the end of Chapter 5. Riley and Farkle are at his house, watching The Theory of Everything. Once the movie is over, Farkle cautiously brings up the idea of Riley having a panic disorder, but she swears him to secrecy about it, telling him she'll "deal with" whatever comes up.
The scene skips to a Chemistry class the next day, in which Riley begins to feel the same way she did before her previous panic attack. She starts to disassociate a bit, and when Farkle realises what's happening, he gets the teacher to excuse her from class. Riley tries to refuse, telling him that she can't miss the notes they'll be getting, so they compromise that Farkle stays in class to take notes the way Riley does while she goes to the school nurse. When she leaves class, she goes to the nearest bathroom instead, knowing that if she goes to the nurse, her dad will find out. Farkle anticipates this and comes to find her after class, and she breaks down crying in the bathroom. After she pulls herself together, the two go on with their day.
The final scene details a date between Lucas and Riley. Everything goes very well, but at the end of the night, she finds herself in the bathroom having another panic attack. It's not caused by anything specific (as panic attacks sometimes seem to have no reason) but it is the first time she has to deal with one alone.
Throughout the chapter, mentions of the plot of Girl Meets Hollywood are woven in. Maya doesn't kidnap Bobbie Jo Thibodeaux/Anastasia Boulangerie, because that is highly unrealistic and I'm trying to rewrite the plot at least semi-realistically. Katy Hunter does still get the role in the film, but several other roles that are mentioned in the episode are changed to give the movie a more "realistic" shot- for example, there is no character called Banana.
The movie will probably be mentioned at several points later in this story, so here's a brief summary of the 'new' movie:
Katy Hunter will star in Heart as Katelyn, a down-on-her-luck actress who finds love and happiness in her true love, Cedrick. The two are pushed together by Katelyn’s daughter, Morgan, and her best friend Richard (who form the B Story romance) and their friends, Lachlan, Jon and Braxton.
Chapter 7: Chaos Theory, The Butterfly Effect, And The Computer Glitch That Started It All
Summary:
FOR WANT OF A NAIL
Notes:
Happy Halloween! For all those who noticed that I didn't write a chapter for Girl Meets World: Of Terror (3) this is it! This chapter doesn't affect now we're patriots's storyline at all. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Whipped Cream & Other Delights,
TheHarleyQueen
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Xn+1 = RXn (1-Xn)
Riley Matthews got to school earlier than most. Her dad taught History at Abigail Adams, and she preferred to ride with him than to walk or take the subway (she never knew what to do with herself on the subway, never knew where to sit or what to do with her hands). But arriving early allowed her to sit on the bench near her locker and text her uncle, who’d either be heading to his classes or to work as her Uncle Eric’s PA (Uncle Eric was the Mayor of New York City, and Josh was only three years older than her). It also gave her time to put up posters for Debate Club (in spite of this being her first year in Debate, and in high school at all, the head of debate had taken a liking to her, seemed to be training her up to be his successor).
Riley loved Debate Club, and not only because she was good at it. She loved hearing other people’s opinions on all nature of matters, loved to learn new perspectives. She also loved arguing her point, so really, Debate Club had been the natural booth for her to gravitate towards at the Student Organisations Fair.
As she stapled a poster advertising this week’s topic (Should churches (defined as churches, temples, mosques, synagogues, etc.) remain tax-exempt?) to the notice board in the stairwell, she watched the student begin to stream in, picking out certain faces amongst them. Noah Argota, the head of the Debate Club, waved at her and shot her a wink before disappearing into the wave of students. Noah was great as the Debate Club president, never chose topics like abortion or LGBTQ+ rights, because he knew they weren’t up for debate, and he always shot down those who tried to propose them as valid debate ideas.
She smiled at Chai, who nodded back. She and Chai had kissed, once, a couple of months ago, but nothing had ever come of it. Chai wasn’t ready to be out yet, which Riley respected wholeheartedly, and Riley, well…
Riley had a huge crush on the girl who sat behind her in History.
Her name was Maya Hart, and she was so pretty. She has curly blonde hair that she brushed less than she should and wore tight leggings and leather jackets and heeled boots every day, come hell or high water. She painted her lips bright red and her eyes dark, and when she deigned (was forced) to join class discussions, she was clearly highly intelligent, well-read, and had fascinating opinions. She was angry at the world and didn’t talk much, but she was nice, beneath it all, and it was all Riley could do not to kiss her every time they made eye contact. Especially when she saw Maya smiling softly at people from her vantage point against the pillar, longing to be part of a group but scared of making the first move.
And the reason she hadn’t asked her out yet was walking into class now. Lucas Friar.
He’d moved here from Texas in middle school, but hadn’t ever seemed to make friends- mostly he just jumped around from girlfriend to girlfriend (Missy Bradford, Sarah Carpenter, even Isadora Smackle from Einstein Academy, for a brief period). But he always came back to Maya Hart.
Riley could never understand their relationship- they fought all the time, and she didn’t think that they had ever actually put a label on what they were, but the two of them sat side-by-side in most classes, flirting and fighting and touching and ignoring each other. There was nothing that could tell the rest of the class what mood they’d be in on any given day- they weren’t friends with anyone except each other. Most of the time, Riley’s dad said he just hoped for a day when they were happy, because when they were ignoring each other they somehow dragged the whole class into it. He’d tried to work their dynamic into his lessons before -Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton, who’d worked together when it counted- but none of it worked. Maya Hart and Lucas Friar were simply untouchable, unfortunately for Riley.
On the other hand, she thought, as she caught a glimpse of a figure rushing into school after the bell rang, as always. She and Farkle seemed to have accidentally become a different sort of untouchable. Riley wasn’t sure when it had happened. Farkle Minkus had been a family friend, once upon a time, but now he was just her best friend.
Her mom and his dad had been intellectual rivals in high school, and she sometimes got the feeling that his dad had sort of expected them to get married one day. Her dad and made fun of/been friends with Mr Minkus through heir entire school career, and seemed to be terrified of Mrs Minkus (although, to be completely honest, Riley hadn’t seen Mrs Minkus in nearly two years) so their families had pushed Riley and Farkle together as kids. Back in middle school, when Farkle had retreated into himself, she’d been the one to deal with the kid who was pressing him against the lockers to whisper cruel things in his ear. Later, he’d been the one to hold her when she cried about the texts she was receiving (just stop breathing/no one likes you/do you even have friends/bet your sleeping with him slut/gonna cry to daddy bitch/your pathetic/everyone will be happier if you just dont wake up), had been the one who took her to the mall to get her number changed, had immediately blocked the contact in her phone (but not before tracing it back to the bully and threatening to ruin her - not that Riley knew that).
They weren’t even done with their first year of high school, but somehow, everyone knew her and Farkle. She was on Debate and had started SAGA, and he was on the mathletes and in Physics Club and Chess, and both of them had joined the yearbook committee and the school magazine (Riley as a photographer and Farkle as a junior editor). They were both on the Honour Roll, and both took part in sport (she did girls’ soccer and Farkle had been strong-armed into joining cross-country).
Riley wasn’t quite sure how it happened. She and Farkle had gone into high school intending on joining the clubs they’d been part of in middle school but had then befriended seniors and had been recruited by teachers. And their willingness to participate seemed to have earned them a weird place of honour in the school. She hadn’t even realised until a couple of days ago.
She’d been approached by Trev Rivera, two years her senior, and he’d asked her on a date to Olive Garden. She’d politely declined (there was no way she was going on her first date with a junior she didn’t even know), but he’d started harassing her, popping up after every class and walking her to her next class, trying to persuade her to say yes. Farkle had tried to step in and it hadn’t helped at all. Eventually, she’d been leaving the cafeteria with Farkle while the juniors and seniors had been walking in, and he’d asked her again, and she’d told him to fuck off.
That, of course, had led to him grabbing her wrist and telling her that she should “be more polite, he was trying to be nice”. Farkle had immediately told him to let go, and she’d been gathering her strength to rip her arm from Trev’s grip when Antione Grant and Thor Benward had appeared behind her, telling Trev to let go (he’d done so without another word, slinking away to lick his wounds). They’d nodded at her and continued to their regular table, and Farkle had pulled her away to Art (where she spent the lesson watching Maya engaged in her own, beautiful world, and wishing she was part of it).
She smiled at Farkle and grabbed his hand, pulling him into History.
Her father had written NORMANDY LANDINGS on the board. He stood up from his desk as the students all made themselves comfortable, and began his lecture.
“The Normandy Landings, codenamed Operation Neptune and commonly referred to as ‘D-Day’, was the largest seaborne invasion in history. “D-Day” was an Army designation used to indicate the start date for specific field operations. In this case, the “D” in D-Day doesn’t actually stand for anything—it’s merely an alliterative placeholder used to designate a particular day on the calendar. But because this invasion was so big, the word “D-Day” took on a new meaning. We now use it in everyday life to refer to an important day, when something big happens.”
He moved to the window, his preferred vantage for teaching, mostly because he said he felt that the “kids in the back” couldn’t escape him from there, “We learn about history because it’s important to learn from our mistakes. But we forget that most events in History affected our lives today in some way.”
Riley could feel Maya shooting spitballs at her, could imagine that Lucas was laughing at her from where he sat behind Farkle, but said nothing. She didn’t want to be a distraction. Rather, she leaned over and took Farkle’s hand as Yogi began to question her dad on their assignment (write a 400-word essay on a word from history that took on a new meaning because of what happened). She heard Lucas fake-wretch, and couldn’t resist turning around to glare at him. He just smirked in return, raising his voice to call her dad’s attention.
“Hey teacher-man, how come Maya and I aren’t allowed public displays of affection, but your daughter and her boyfriend can basically sit on each other’s laps without taking any shit? I’m pretty sure that’s nepotism or something.”
Riley could feel herself flushing scarlet, and Farkle dropped her hand just as fast. They’d considered it, once, and had decided that it might be quite nice if they weren’t both severely crushing on other people. She hadn’t known that there were rumours like that about them, and couldn’t resist glancing back at Maya to see what she thought. She was just staring silently at the back of Riley’s head.
“Well, Mr Friar, I don’t personally feel that friendships should be discouraged in this class, but there is a difference between holding hands and you actually trying to keep Ms Hart on your lap during class. And I would appreciate it if you’d refrain from swearing in my class.”
“Sure thing, teacher-man,” Lucas replied, not sounding at all as if he intended to keep his word, “but only if you give me my hat back.” Lucas wore a black cowboy hat to school every day, and her dad confiscated it at the beginning of each class and gave it back at the end, otherwise, he wouldn’t take it off.
Somehow, that was what got Maya’s attention. She barked a laugh and fired her shot, “Hey Friar, you’re not as tough as everyone thinks you are.”
It didn’t seem to get to Lucas though. Riley wondered, again, at the dynamic between the two of them, “Hey Hart- neither are you.”
The bell rang before the class could devolve any further, and everyone shoved their things into their bags, eager to be out as soon as possible while Lucas and Maya were glaring at each other like that. Riley still couldn’t remove the blush from her cheeks.
Xn+1 = RXn (1-Xn)
Later, Riley was at Topanga’s, waiting for her shift to be over. They had several waitresses, but her mom usually gave them off on Friday evenings, when business was slow, and let Riley earn her pocket money by working on weekends. There was currently no one in the cafe, so Riley was bent over the counter, working on her essay, when she walked in.
This was a secret the two of them shared.
Riley knew that Maya was heading out to a night shift at the same diner her mom worked at. She knew that Maya was coming from a shift at Village Cleaners Laundry, where she’d been since school let out. That was why Riley did this- she knew that Maya couldn’t. Maya hadn’t asked, but when her dad had told her to find out why Maya just wasn’t turning in assignments, and Riley had found out, she’d offered.
She’d tried to consistently keep the work at the level Maya had been handing in before she’d taken a second job, but sometimes she slipped up, and Maya got upset (Riley hated to upset Maya).
That was why Riley silently passed Maya the typed-out essay that she’d done at home and smiled at her, even as Maya slipped into the bathroom and put on her uniform for the diner. She also pushed a danish at Maya on the way out (maybe she couldn’t date Maya the way she wanted to for fear of Lucas Friar, but she could damn well take care of her).
But today was different.
Because today, Lucas Friar stormed in not five minutes after Maya left.
“Where is she?” he was practically snarling. She tried to act nonchalant.
“I don’t know.” The part half of their deal relied on no one finding out, especially not Lucas Friar.
“You’re lying. I know you are. Listen, Maya’s my-” he paused and she leaned in, hopeful, wondering if she’d finally figure out what they were to each other, “she’s mine. And I want to help her. Please.”
Riley had never seen Lucas so blatantly emotional about something. It was a complete 180 on his usual attitude, and she didn’t know what to do, because maybe he could help Maya better than she could, but then Maya wouldn’t talk to her again, and Riley couldn’t let that happen.
She settled on a shrug.
“Sorry, can’t help you with Maya. But can I help you with anything else? Coffee? A danish?” she busted out Customer Service Riley.
Lucas Friar shot her a dark glare.
“Listen, Matthews,” he began, his voice low and rough, “let me tell you a story.”
“In this world, there are sheep, and there are wolves. Sheep stick together, and wolves stick together. But they don’t cross over. There has never been a sheep and a wolf that stuck together against the rest of the pack, or the rest of the flock. And it’s not hard to tell which is which.
I’m a wolf. Maya’s a wolf. We stick together, we’re a pack. You and Minkus, well, you’re sheep. You’re part of an easily misguided flock. It’s not your fault. That’s just the way it is.”
He braced his hand on the table and leaned forward, to the point where their foreheads were nearly touching, “But you’re a sheep, and Maya’s a wolf. And she’d drop you in a moment, so stop trying to stick with her. You’re part of a flock, not a pack.” Riley wasn’t quite sure what to do with the insinuation (more like the blatant statement) that she was a sheep, so she just asked again- “I’m sorry, sir, but can I help you with something regarding our service?” She plastered on the smile of all waitresses but remained tense, ready to defend herself.
“I regret talking,” he said, sounding as if he thought she couldn’t understand what he was saying. She kept the smile on and waited.
Eventually, he relented. “Coffee, black. And the WiFi password, if you have one.”
She rattled off the password and turned to make coffee. He retreated to a corner and pulled out his laptop, clearly settling in.
“We close at ten!” she called to him.
He didn’t acknowledge her.
Xn+1 = RXn (1-Xn)
It went like this. A butterfly flapped its wings in Central Park. A four-year-old girl pointed at it, pulling her mother to a standstill. This meant that they didn’t see the cyclist, who had to serve to avoid hitting the mother and her child. He fell over three yards later, right at the feet of young, stressed attorney, Topanga Lawrence-Matthews. She spilt her coffee all over her blouse, which meant that she had to duck into the nearest bathroom to try to clean herself up before walking home.
This detour to the bathroom meant that she took an extra fifteen minutes to walk home. In that extra fifteen minutes, her husband was worried sick, but couldn’t reach her because her phone had died after being doused with hot coffee.
Because she arrived home fifteen minutes later than usual, her husband, Cory Matthews, was stressed beyond belief when she finally arrived, shirt stained and tired. Because he was stressed, Cory Matthews welcomed her home with a “where were you, Topanga?” instead of an “I missed you, babe”.
Because she was greeted in slightly harsher terms than usual when she arrived home, and because she was still covered in coffee, Topanga Lawrence-Matthews didn’t immediately go up to say hi to her six-year-old daughter. Rather, she started crying in her husband’s arms, the stress of working two jobs and keeping their family afloat (even with the help of his parents) overwhelming her.
Because his wife was crying, Cory stayed to comfort her, instead of checking on his daughter, who’d been playing in her room for half-an-hour, where he’d sent her after he’d begun to worry about his wife.
Because the two of them didn’t go up to their daughter’s room, Riley Matthews never opened her windows on the first day of spring.
Because Riley Matthews didn’t open her windows, Maya Hart didn’t hear her singing while she was crawling around the fire escape of the building next to hers.
Because Maya Hart didn’t hear the singing, she never went to investigate, which meant that she never crawled in through a bay window and never met Riley Matthews.
Because a butterfly flapped its wings in Central Park, Riley and Maya didn’t meet until they were far older.
Because a butterfly flapped its wings in Central Park, Topanga Lawrence-Matthews came home and cried into her husband's shoulder about the stress she was under.
Because Topanga Lawrence-Matthews came home and cried into her husband's shoulder about the stress she was under, she and her husband had a long talk about ways they could ensure that she’d be less stressed.
This led to them deciding not to have any more surprises like Riley (they could always adopt if they desperately wanted more kids).
A couple of months and several long talks after a butterfly flapped its wings in Central Park, Topanga Lawrence-Matthews made the appointment to have her tubes tied.
Because a butterfly flapped its wings in Central Park, August Matthews was never born.
Xn+1 = RXn (1-Xn)
Riley was at a Debate meeting with Einstein Academy, and Farkle was there to support her. She was up against Isadora Smackle, well-known as the toughest of her competitors. Their topic was Churches and Taxes- Smackle arguing for churches being taxed, Riley arguing against it.
The debate ended in a stalemate, and Riley took it in her stride.
She went up to shake Isadora’s hand after the debate, and Farkle joined her. She laughed quietly- Farkle’s crush on Isadora Smackle was the least subtle thing in the world, and it was deadly obvious that Isadora returned his affections. So, once the generic platitudes were through, Riley stepped aside and let Farkle engage her back into Churches and Taxes. She smirked, and when she caught Farkle’s eye, she mouthed ask her out. He blushed a light pink, but nodded slightly, and turned back to Isadora.
Riley smiled softly and began her walk home.
She was near Topanga’s when she bumped into Maya. Literally.
But it seemed that Maya wasn’t going to say anything, and so Riley wouldn’t either. Except- “Thanks for not telling Lucas where I was.”
Riley turned around to face Maya, “You didn’t want me to.”
Maya shook her hair out of her face and shrugged, “Yeah, but still. He said he gave you the whole speech about wolves-and-sheep, and you still didn’t crack. So good on you.” It looked as though that was all Maya had to say, but Riley wasn’t ready to be done with the conversation “Maybe I’m not a sheep.”
Maya smirked at her, all pretty cheekbones and sparkling eyes, “Oh yeah? What are you, then?”
“Maybe I’m a hummingbird.”
Maya snorted, and Riley thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard, “A hummingbird?”
“Yeah,” Riley nodded once, decisively, “Fast, busy, with a nose in everybody’s business.” That got a proper smile out of her.
“Well then, Hummingbird. Don’t let me stop you.”
Xn+1 = RXn (1-Xn)
“Well done on your B minus, Ms Hart,” her dad was saying, holding Maya’s test paper up for the whole class, “You’ve got some serious potential. I appreciate your take on the term Bourgeoisie, especially when you pointed out that most people fall into a class that would be considered the bourgeoisie according to Marx. Well done.”
Lucas Friar jammed his elbow into Maya’s side, snickering to her about actually having intellectual opinions. Maya shot a confused look at Riley in return (and no wonder- Riley had overheard her talking about that very subject a couple of weeks ago- it had been how she’d decided what to write).
History was their last class, and when the bell rang, Maya and Lucas damn near sprinted towards the exit. Riley stayed behind. Her dad took her home, too, and he only ever left after four. Riley had soccer practise today, but only from 3:30. So she sat in her dad’s class quietly and wondered about Maya.
When she left the class at 3, already changed, sports back over her shoulder, she nearly bumped into Maya.
“B minus, Hummingbird?”
“Well, yeah.” Riley smiled softly at Maya, leading her over to an alcove, “Maya, I only used stuff I’d heard you say before. I’m just the one who wrote it down. You’re a B minus, Maya, if not better.”
Maya Hart refused to meet her eyes, choosing instead to look at Riley’s jean jacket. It was old, had belonged to her dad in the 80s and 90s, but neither he nor her mom used it anymore, and it had somehow made its way into Riley’s closet.
“I know you’re there, cowboy,” Maya suddenly said, and Lucas Friar stepped out of the shadows. Riley wondered, again, at how they did that. How they were so in sync.
“You’re doing her homework?” He asked, confusion in his tone. Riley half-shrugged, nodding.
“She doesn’t have time.” Lucas held her gaze, both of them refusing to break away. After thirty seconds of tense silence, he nodded.
“Guess you’re part of the pack after all.”
But Riley shook her head at him, smiling at Maya. “Nah. I’m a hummingbird.”
Xn+1 = RXn (1-Xn)
Chaos is the science of surprises, of the nonlinear and the unpredictable. These phenomena are often described by fractal mathematics, which captures the infinite complexity of nature. A fractal is a never-ending pattern. Fractals are infinitely complex patterns that are self-similar across different scales. They are created by repeating a simple process over and over in an ongoing feedback loop. Driven by recursion, fractals are images of dynamic systems – the pictures of Chaos. Geometrically, they exist in between our familiar dimensions. Recognizing the chaotic, fractal nature of our world can give us new insight, power, and wisdom.
In another time, Farkle and Isadora stay in a relationship all through high school, but part ways on friendly terms when he chooses to go to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and she to the University of California, San Francisco Medical Center. They wanted different things from life.
In another time, Lucas Friar doesn’t become a veterinarian. He moves back to his family’s ranch and takes over the running of the place when his grandfather dies. He’s good at it, has a head for business. He eventually marries Vanessa Kinney, the cheerleader who dated his middle school best friend.
In another time, Isaiah "Zay" Babineaux never quite develops his passion for dance, and he too stays on the family ranch and handles things. He and Lucas never quite reconnect, Lucas angry about missing a year of his life and Zay pining over Vanessa.
In another time, Maya Hart loves art but never tries to make a career out of it. She gets into a teaching college and becomes a History teacher at Abigail Adams after Cory Matthews was promoted to vice-principal. She never tells him that Riley wrote the essay on the bourgeois.
In another time, Farkle doesn’t take to quantum mechanics the way he did when he was teaching Riley about the universe, so he takes over his father’s company. He’s good at what he does and increases Minkus International’s charity donations by over 35%.
In another time, Riley Matthews moves to London in 2016, partly glad to be out of the shitstorm that is the USA elections. But without her friends, she never gets into astronomy, and she majors in fashion design (she’s good, excellent even. She’s eventually hired to work for Victoria’s Secret, and people love her designs). She’s at the Fashion Show when she bumps into her childhood friend, Farkle Minkus, and things evolve from there.
In another time, their baby girl, Ada, is born 12 months after they’re reunited.
In another time, Riley Matthews and Farkle Minkus married in 2029, three years after Ada Matthews-Minkus is born.
In another time, Riley Matthews-Minkus and Farkle Minkus had five children; Ada, Rosalind, Hugo and Henrietta, and Alexander.
This is not that time.
But that doesn’t mean that, in this time, things were worse.
No, they’re just… different.
All because a butterfly flapped its wings in Central Park.
Notes:
https://www.history.com/news/why-was-it-called-d-day
https://fractalfoundation.org/resources/what-is-chaos-theory/
https://www.forbes.com/sites/startswithabang/2018/02/13/chaos-theory-the-butterfly-effect-and-the-computer-glitch-that-started-it-all/
Chapter 8: When Rome’s in Ruins, We Are The Lions
Summary:
FIRST FIGHT
Notes:
So it took me forever to write this chapter, I know, but I was struggling to add relationship conflicts without letting the characters seem out of character. I hope you enjoy this chapter, though.
You should go watch this, though. It was an excellent inspiration to get started on writing this story again.Whipped Cream & Other Delights,
TheHarleyQueen
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
So, to start with, Riley did not intend for the day to end up like this. It’s Tuesday, which means SAGA, which means spending time with friends and talking about real stuff and Riley was so excited. She’d even come up with a topic that she was really looking forward to discussing- How’d you figure it out? She and Lucas had a date planned afterwards, too, at a Dim Sum restaurant. Really, she hadn’t intended to end up at Topanga’s with Emma, Mila and Farkle. That was not how today was supposed to go {but really, Riley was so happy with this}.
It started like this.
In History, they were covering the Cold War. Nothing new had happened in her life, so there was no need for her father to take the syllabus into his own hands. She was leaning back to hold Maya’s hand, and they weren’t paying complete attention. History was the one subject that Riley could get away with it- after all, she literally lived with a History tutor. Lucas was scribbling notes at top speed, and Farkle was listening to her dad but took no notes (he didn’t need to- he remembered it all anyway). It was a good day. After class, she’d go to SAGA and Maya and Lucas would go to Art Club, and then she’d meet Lucas for their date, and all was good.
Then her dad said that they could talk amongst themselves (later, Riley would think that that was where it started going downhill).
So she turned to Farkle, still holding Maya’s hand, and started up a conversation they’d been having over the last couple of days, about the SAGA committee doing something to raise money for an LGBT+ shelter. She didn’t think anything of it, as she and Farkle traded ideas and joked about sugar-filled muffins (she’d long since put aside any grudge she might have had over that).
She suggested he come over for dinner on Wednesday, so that they could make official plans (she also invited him over for dinner because she knew that, otherwise, he’d be eating dinner alone, likely on his bed, because his dad was in Japan for business and his mom was on a Caribbean spa-cruise). He agreed enthusiastically, and Maya looked up from her drawing to let Riley know that she was eating with Shawn and her mom that night (Maya, Shawn and Katy all came ‘round on Fridays, but Riley had been seeing less of Maya- not that she was sad that Maya had a happy family now). Riley had nodded and pressed a kiss to her cheek {she hadn’t noticed Lucas’s look of worry at the ideas of only Farkle going to Riley’s. If only he knew how much time the two of them spent together}.
Lucas was a really good boyfriend, and a good guy, but he could sometimes get jealous.
But then the bell rang, and Riley didn’t notice that Lucas was worried, wasn’t given the chance to assuage his fears- after all, as far as both she and Farkle were concerned, there was nothing of a romantic nature between them {except latent feelings that he didn’t remember, and a deep gratitude on her part, for the stars, and for keeping her secrets, and maybe a friendship that went so deep that it could one day bubble into something more, if she weren’t with Lucas and he wasn’t with Smackle}.
After History, Riley went to the Art Theory class to set up for the SAGA meeting (really, that just meant pinning up the flag and placing the chairs in a circle). She was blasting Nine In The Afternoon, and when Farkle grabbed her and pulled her into a dance, she just went with it, laughing.
After History, Lucas allowed his face to crack. He liked Riley, really and truly (it was always Riley). And he’d never been there for her SAGA committee, even though he should have been. So after History, Lucas went to Maya and begged her to ditch Art Club with him, just for a day, and to go to SAGA instead. Maya agreed with grace but insisted that they first go to Art Club and let them know where they would be.
That was how Maya and Lucas walked into the Art Theory Class at 3:15, looking around at the collected members of SAGA, who had all already taken their seats. Most of them, Lucas didn’t recognise, but he did know Thor Benward and his two girlfriends (Nikki and… Francesca?). It had been the scandal that shook the school when everyone figured out he was dating both of them, but no one said anything to their faces. And yeah, he’d known that they were kind of Riley’s friends, now, but he didn’t realise that they were regularly attending her committee.
Their entrance brought all conversation to a halt. Farkle stared with wide eyes, and Thor frowned slightly, and Zay watched Riley quietly. Everyone in the room was waiting on her reaction {she’d once brought up that she was sad that Lucas and Maya had never attended a meeting- even though she’d quickly rushed to correct herself, saying that she knew that they had other commitments and didn’t hold that against them at all}. But Riley, sweet Riley, burst into a beaming smile and welcomed them into the room, bounding over to pull her best friend and her boyfriend into a hug.
“Oh, I’m so happy you’re here,” she babbled, rushing across the room to set up two extra chairs. “And it’s so perfect! Our topic today is how did you know, which- I think- is an excellent entry topic, especially for allies, because it’s such a great way to understand the mind of the community better!”
Maya and Lucas took their seats quietly, by comparison, even as they quietly spoke about the other members in the room, wondering at Emma’s hair and Noah’s eyeliner.
Riley called the meeting to order, asking them to introduce themselves as everyone else in SAGA did and looked at Maya with pleading eyes, asking her to oblige.
“Uh, well, I’m Maya Hart. I’m a girl, and an ally, I guess?” she looked up at Riley, who smiled encouragingly, “I, uh, I like to paint.”
Maya knocked Lucas with her shoulder as if tagging him in. They exchanged a soft smile. After all, this was what their friendship (and, for a brief period, their relationship) was made of- teasing and pushing and toeing the line. Lucas smirked and looked around the room, struggling to find a starting point.
“I’m Lucas Friar. I’m a guy and an ally. I’m dating Riley.” Farkle subtly raised an eyebrow, questioning the validity of the ‘fact’ that everyone knew. But no one said anything, and Riley grinned again, overjoyed that her best friend and boyfriend were finally taking an interest.
An awkward silence fell over the room. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes when a new member joined, there were a couple of moments like this as everyone tried to acclimatise to the new dynamics. But it generally only happened once or twice and then everyone fell back into a comfortable pattern.
Luckily for them, Heather spoke up, starting softly, but growing in confidence.
“Okay so, for me it was like- I just… always knew. My mom is bi and she’s pretty actively involved in the community- she works at a centre for at-risk LGBT+ youth and everything. And, uh, I started insisting from a pretty young age that I wanted to be called Heather, like my aunt. I don’t know, I just thought it was the coolest name, I guess. So I started seeing a gender therapist- I’m still seeing her, she’s great- and we came to the conclusion that I was transgender… probably around six? I mean, I’d been dressing as a girl and using the name Heather for longer, but ‘cause it’s still officially a “mental disorder”-” her lip curled in a way that clearly showed what she thought of that, and she wasn’t the only one in the room. “They want to be careful before giving any kind of diagnosis.”
She broke off, her mind somewhere else entirely, and Noah gently cleared his throat to bring her back. “So for me, there was no moment of realisation. I grew up with it. It just was.” Mila put a hand on her shoulder, and Zay grabbed her hand, and they both smiled at her.
“Thank you for telling us that,” Riley said, “that was really brave.”
Noah spoke next, confident from the get-go.
“I mean, it wasn’t something I just knew or anything. But I - we” he corrected himself when his sister shot him a mock-offended glance, “have this uncle, who lives in South Africa, right. And he’s gay too. But we didn’t meet him till we were like, six, and before that, it just wasn’t a factor or anything. But then, like two weeks before we’re about to meet him, our dad’s like ‘Son, you do know that Uncle Quentin’s gay, right?’ and I didn’t even know what gay meant, so I go ‘Uh, yeah’ and just leave it, ‘cause I was six and didn’t care. But then we’re going to pick up Uncle Quentin from the airport, and he gets off the plane with his husband and I stood there in all my six-year-old glory like what. And Nikki hisses at me from my left ‘he’s gay, dumbass. That means that he likes boys the way other boys like girls’ and something switched on and I was like- that’s me too.”
He shrugged. “After that, it was just a thing. Mom and dad weren’t upset or anything, when I told them, and I got my first boyfriend when I was sixteen. It only lasted for two weeks,” he informed them wryly, “but still.”
“For me- it was the opposite,” Riley started, looking between Lucas and Maya. She’d told Farkle all of this before when they were setting up for the first SAGA meeting. “I have a ton of LGBTQ+ relatives. Like, my dad’s older brother and his partner explained it all to me when I was pretty young, and his best friend alternated between having boyfriends and girlfriends in all the time I knew him. My other uncle came out as pan last year. But for me, I took forever to figure it out. Until I was…fourteen, I identified as completely straight. An ally of the LGBTQ+ community, but straight nonetheless.” She took a deep breath. “Around that time, I started having a bit of a crush on a couple of girls, but I never really noticed it as anything more than platonic. I just thought that I really admired those girls.” Titters went around the room, and Francesca and Emma and Mila all acknowledged that feeling.
“I only really figured it out this year, actually. I spent more time online, reading about LGBTQ+ stuff and feminist literature and so on, and I actually remember that my uncle had sent me this link to an LGBTQ+ blog, and when the author was describing first figuring out that she had a crush on a girl, but also liked guys the same way, that was when it finally clicked for me that I was probably bisexual.” She ran a hand through her hair and Maya smiled at her encouragingly, and Farkle knocked her with his shoulder, and all was good.
Except.
“See, I don’t get that though,” Lucas began, and Riley smiled encouragingly. That he was participating made her so happy that she was blinded to his frown, to the way that Zay eyed him cautiously{the south had left certain ideas in their heads, and while neither could be said to be blatantly homophobic, they both had impressions that were definitely wrong. After the first SAGA meeting, Zay had started reading, trying to learn where his education had steered him wrong. He’d forgotten that Lucas might have the same ideas}.
“Isn’t it selfish-” he began, missing the way Nikki, Thor and Francesca grabbed each other’s hands, all having sat through being called selfish before, missing the way Farkle’s face went stony and the way Ashley tensed. Missing how Riley’s smile froze and her eyes stuck on him, silently pleading for… something. Anything. “Isn’t it selfish to like both? Like, I don’t understand it. Does that mean you’re going to cheat on me?”
Riley shook her head softly, beginning an explanation, “It’s not like that. It’s more like… you know how, even though you’re in a relationship, you can still find other girls attractive?” She raised her eyebrows, daring him to deny it, eyes unintentionally flickering over to Maya. “That’s completely normal. So with bisexuals, it’s like that. It’s like, you can find men and women attractive, but you choose to be faithful to your partner.” She placed her hand on his and breathed an inaudible sigh of relief when he didn’t pull away. But his frown just deepened.
“Riles” she bit her tongue, praying that she wouldn’t snap only Maya and Farkle can call me that “I just think it’s a bit unfair. Like, it doesn’t make sense. How can you like girls and boys?” By this point, every eye in the room was riveted on him, and when Farkle tried to speak, he just spoke over his friend, “I thought that this club was something you had to do for like, Shawn and Josh, and yourself, I guess. I just thought that you wanted a place to feel like you weren’t innocent or something, I don’t know. And I wanted to support you in that- I still do, really. But I just- Riley, you’re being selfish. How will I ever know that you’re committed to me?”
Her left hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into her palm, even as her right hand reached for his.
“Faith, Lucas, and communication. Just like in every relationship.” She lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, but he shook his head and pulled from her grasp, standing up, “Riley. I love you and support you, but I just.” He glanced wildly around the room, trying to find the right words, “How can I know that you’re mine if you’re here, with people like you, and you might end up liking one of them more than you like me?”
Riley was standing too, now, and so were Farkle and Maya and Thor and Noah {likely defensive and ready to jump into action. Lucas would never hurt her, but they didn’t know that}.
“Riley, I don’t care if you’re a lesbian, or whatever, but this-” he flung his hand out wildly, gesturing to the Art Theory room, “- this is just you trying to tear apart our relationship.”
Riley flinched back as if burnt, cowering into Farkle’s arms. Hurt shone through the tears in her eyes. How could he and he’s right, you know he’s right warred in her mind and she was frozen on the spot, unable to look away, unable to move, kept physically in place by mental struggles. The feeling of wrong that preceded her attacks welled up in her throat but she pushed it back down, not here and not in front of everyone stronger than any fear or panic.
It was Emma who eventually broke the tension in the room, crossing the floor hand-in-hand with her girlfriend and both of them slinging their arms around Riley, leading her out with Farkle by her side.
{“You’re a complete idiot, Lucas Friar,” siad Francesca when she was sure they were out of earshot, “ You have this amazing, kind, beautiful girlfriend who fought for you, and you can’t see what you’re doing to her by saying that shit. Get yourself a fucking brain.”}
They’d walked to Topanga’s, and Emma had ordered her the biggest goddamn milkshake Riley had seen in her life (she worked at Topanga’s and didn’t know they served milkshakes that big). She started telling a story about her twelve-year-old self’s boyfriend’s reaction when she’d kissed Mila in a round of spin-the-bottle (a twelve-year-old’s kiss wasn’t much, but she’d definitely broken it off with the boy after that, even though they’d been going out a full six weeks, or forever in middle-school time).
And, somehow, before Riley knew it, it was half-past six and the sky was dark, and she’d finished her milkshake and was resting her head on Farkle’s shoulder, tears of laughter streaming down everyone’s faces.
And a tiny, tiny part of Riley imagined what it would be like if this was a double date if instead of high fiving him she could lean up and press a kiss to Farkle’s cheek when he made a bad pun. And that tiny, tiny part of Riley loved what it saw, and how it felt.
But that tiny, tiny part of Riley’s heart sank when it saw the notification on Farkle’s phone.
13 texts from Smackle💖🔬
Because, even in the warmth of Topanga’s even in one of the best moments in her high school career yet, commitments followed them.
And even that tiny part of Riley would never betray her friends like that.
In spite of all of that, the tiny part of Riley that was sat there by the fire, curled up against Farkle, laughing and happy, stored the memory away as what a good date should feel like.
Notes:
My sources regarding Heather's story:
https://www.wisegeek.com/what-does-a-gender-therapist-do.htm
https://www.hrc.org/resources/transgender-children-and-youth-understanding-the-basicsIf you have any corrections to make, please don't hesitate. I want this to be as accurate as possible.
Chapter 9: Walk Me Home in the Dead of Night
Summary:
HOLIDAYS
Notes:
I know it's been so long, but writer's block struck hard. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter very much. If you're curious, they're dancing to Holy Ground by Taylor Swift.
Also, if you follow any of my Descendants writing, I've got a new story in the works. It's nearly ready- who knows, you might even get two stories today.Whipped Cream & Other Delights,
TheHarleyQueen
Chapter Text
Part 1: Christmas
“We all hate Secret Santa.”
And Riley’s heart just dropped. She thought about how long they'd been doing secret Santa- since first grade, when it was more than just her and Maya, from when it was her and Maya and Farkle, and her parents had suggested secret Santa so that none of them (especially Maya) had to spend too much of their allowance.
She muttered a quiet oh and tried to press herself up against the Bay Window wall, hitching her shoulders up and trying to make herself as small as possible. But she swallowed down what she was feeling {Christmas is for happiness, Christmas is supposed to be the best time to be a Riley} and smiled at Maya, saying that they'd just give regular gifts that year, then.
Maya chose that moment to talk about how she was staying at Riley’s house for the holidays, and even though a part of her sang {Last Christmas, with her grandparents and Shawn and Uncle Josh and Maya, had been one of her best Christmases on record- and also, it was Maya, she'd always want Maya around} the rest of her sank, because this was Maya and Maya was supposed to be finally getting the perfect Christmas with Shawn and her mom, and why would she want to change that?
So Riley turned to other things, and laughed and smiled, because even though she was struggling, even though she had been an awful person and even though there was something wrong with her, that didn't mean she couldn't still have fun in between those low moments, right?
Eventually, the two of them made their way to the living room, which was filled with the smell of cinnamon and old homemade ornaments. When Maya had arrived, they'd set to making gingerbread cookies, but Riley had gotten antsy and distracted somewhere through and had wandered off, and Maya had followed soon after. But, from the look of the green and red icing on Auggie’s face, her family must have finished them {her family were used to finishing her attempts at everything from baking to scrapbooking because ditzy Riley just couldn't be bothered to keep track of what she was doing}. So she and Maya sat down with a plate of misshapen Christmas trees and Santa hats, and two mugs of hot chocolate. They giggled as they watched The Grinch, and Riley stubbornly did not think about how everyone hated secret Santa.
Then Maya mentioned something about Lucas being in Texas for the holidays, and Riley couldn't keep the shock from her face- “He's not in New York?” She asked, frowning. Maya shook her head, smiling in her confusion, “Uh, no. His pops insisted he and his family go back down to the farm- they don't go every weekend anymore, ya know? Didn't he tell you?”
Riley bit her lip, shaking her head so hard that her curls went flying, “He didn't even say goodbye.” Tears welled in the corner of her eyes. Sure, she and Lucas were going through a bit of a rough patch, especially after that SAGA meeting, but she'd hoped that they could make up over the holidays-- this year, she had known who she was going to be with at midnight on New Year’s. She moved to put down her mug but spilt, the hot chocolate burning her thighs. She started crying earnestly then, only barely managing to flee up to her room, with zero of the grace she tried to exude when she wanted to leave surreptitiously. Maya followed behind her, and they ended up in the Bay Window again, Riley’s head in Maya’s lap, her body shaking with sobs. It's supposed to be us through everything.
The stress of the year seemed to bear down on her shoulders like the weight of the world, then. The ski lodge and The Riley Committee and her panic attacks and everything came crashing down, and she lay sobbing on Maya’s lap until she lost track of time. She'd fix things with Lucas- too much history and drama went into beginning this relationship for it to fizzle out like this- but at that moment, she couldn't find the strength in her to even consider what she'd do in the next hour, let alone the next week or month. And Maya just stroked her back and was there for her, just like Riley always knew she would be.
Suddenly, it was Christmas Eve, and Riley and Farkle were sitting cross-legged on his floor. The fireplace was crackling and the golden tree they’d decorated together was glimmering softly in the light. A Christmas playlist was playing over the sound system, and Riley was softly humming to Baby, It’s Cold Outside. Her hands were jumping around nervously, and her eyes kept flickering to the present she brought. Farkle’s lips pulled up into a half-smile; she’s easy to read.
“We can just open them now if you want,” he told her, and then grinned when she looked at him, aghast.
“No, we can’t!” She declared, very intentionally not looking at the gift, “We’re still waiting for Maya!”
Farkle ran a hand through his hair and then nodded. Riley pulled out her phone to text Maya again and Farkle went upstairs to talk to his dad. His parents were both home for Christmas, for a change, and they gave all the staff the day off (also for a change).
It took him a while to find his dad, although it shouldn’t have. He’d looked in his parents’ bedroom and then his mom’s bedroom and the kitchen and the living room first, but his dad was, as always, in his study. He knocked on the door, and then waited for nearly two minutes before his dad called for him to come in.
He noticed, in the back of his mind, that the fire had probably gone out a couple of hours ago, but that his dad hadn’t even bothered to fix it. The room was freezing, but there was his dad, hunched over, reading a file marked Minkus International. He would have to be quick, then. His dad didn’t like to waste time when new plans were handed to him.
“Yes, son?” His dad looked up briefly before returning to his papers. Farkle cleared his throat and steeled his nerves, “Uh, dad. I know that you and mom are both home for Christmas for a change.” He thought his dad wouldn’t hear the last part, but from the look on his face, he definitely had, and he was not impressed, “But I was wondering if I could go over tomorrow for a little while- not the whole day!” He added quickly, seeing his dad opening his mouth to deny his request, “It’s just- I have a gift for Riley, that I have to give to her on Christmas, and I’d rather tell her now that I’ll definitely be coming by than drop by unannounced.” That’s what he’d done last year after his mom had retired to her room, tipsier than on a normal day. He hadn’t even seen Riley that day, so he had to try again this year. But he could tell his father’s answer from his face before the first word even slipped out.
“I- uh- nevermind,” he rushed, but it wasn’t good enough.
“Farkle, your mother and I put in a lot of work to ensure that we would both be here for Christmas this year- it’s extremely rude of you to ask to leave the one year that it’s just going to be us. I expect more from you, as a Minkus. The Matthews family will be there every day after Christmas, but both your mother and I lead very busy lives and aren’t around nearly as often.”
“You’re telling me,” Farkle mumbled under his breath, but his dad caught that too.
“Don’t take that tone with me, young man. I work this hard for the greater good, for your greater good, and I have always kept you clothed and fed and safe. That requires sacrifices on my part, and I won’t have you dishonouring that hard work.” Farkle stared at his dad, who just went back to reading his files. Then he gave a brief nod and strode out of the room.
When he reached his own room, Riley was just saying goodbye to Maya.
“Oh, no, Peaches, don’t worry. We’ll have a great time. Spend Christmas with your family. Yeah, yeah. Oh, Farkle’s back, I’ve got to- yes, I love you too, Peaches. I’ve gotta go. Bye!” She hung up, and Farkle could tell, even from the snippet of conversation he caught, that Maya wasn’t coming, but Riley plastered the biggest smile on her face and headed over to the table where they had each put the presents.
“Well, I guess we can begin,” she said cheerfully, and although Farkle scanned every line of her face, looking for something that might betray disappointment, he found nothing. Either she was getting better at hiding when she was sad, or she was genuinely pleased that it would just be the two of them.
She handed him the biggest box from the table, leaving both their gifts for Maya- a fine silver charm bracelet and a selection of charms (a sun, paintbrush, a record, a coffee cup, and a deer) respectively.
He watched as she tore the wrapping on her gift (covered in tiny, smiling planets) and stopped short at the gift, five frames, each with a “star map” in it. Her birthday, the day they met, this Christmas, the day she and Maya met, and the day she started the SAGA committee. He watched the tears well up in her eyes and beamed as she pulled him into a hug, whispering, “This is perfect, Farkle.” into his ear.
Then she motioned towards the large box, and he pulled off the lid to reveal-- a menorah. And all the feelings from Culture Week, the fear of not knowing who he was, the absolute horror he felt when reading about the persecution in this new light, bubbled to the forefront of his mind.
He turned to Riley with wide, sad eyes. It was Riley, and she’d have a reason, but the words bubbled to his lips anyway- “Why would you give me this?”
“Farkle, you found out that your ancestors were Jewish,” she said softly, drawing nearer to him.
“Ever since the day after our culture week, when you found out you might have a new ancestry, I started reading about it. Because I love you. And, I would always want to know who you are. Whoever you are.” They were so close now that they could feel each other’s breath, but neither of them drew back.
“Did you know in Hebrew, everything goes from right to left? All this time, everything you’ve done, you’ve always thought left to right. And, now, maybe consider that there’s another way.”
“I love you, Farkle,” she told him, drawing him into another hug. His body softened against hers, and he sank into the hug. They were Riley and Farkle. They knew each other better than anyone else.
Farkle woke up on Christmas morning to busy shouting. Well, he said Christmas morning, but he only woke up around one pm, so it was really more like Christmas afternoon. He stumbled out of his room to the image of his mother and father, each pulling a couple of suitcases behind them.
“What’s going on?” he asked, suddenly very awake.
His father turned back, still texting.
“Uh, I’ve been called for an emergency conference in Japan. Urgent, you know. Your mother’s coming with- my Christmas present, two weeks in Japan.”
“Give me a couple of minutes, I’ll pack a bag and come with,” Farkle suggested, but he wasn’t halfway through his sentence before his dad was shaking his head.
“No, you stay here. We’ll probably stop by Paris for another week or so afterwards, and you’d be late for school.” It was a weak excuse, but Farkle recognised it for what it was- a dismissal.
He nodded quietly and went to get dressed, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek in a goodbye. She didn’t notice.
He didn’t wait ten minutes after they left before he walked out, leaving a note for the housekeeper. On instinct, he made his way to the Matthews' residence and climbed up the fire escape, leaning against the wall for a couple of minutes before climbing through Riley’s window.
He’d tried to do this last year, but had bumped into Riley’s dad (‘Mr Matthews in class, but Cory is fine when you’re here, Farkle’) and gone home without further attempts.
He brought out the lights and paints that were in his bag- no time like the present.
He’d painted an observatory onto her roof. Planets and stars whenever she looked up. Riley flung herself into his arms, pulling him into the tightest hug he’d ever gotten.
“Thank you, Farkle. Thank you” she whispered, and he smiled into her hair.
“Mind if I come down for dinner?” He’d asked, and she’d shaken her head, smiling widely.
Maybe Christmas really was the best time to be a Riley.
Part 2: New Years
Farkle had invited her to a New Year’s Eve party at his place. She would have gone anyway, of course, but she really doesn’t have anything better to do this year- Josh and Maya are at a party with his friends, and Lucas is still in Texas. In fact, he’s only coming back a couple of days before school.
So she agrees and helps host. And it’s fun. Zay comes, and so do most of their classmates. Emma, Mila and Heather come. Even Francesca, Nikki and Thor stop by for a couple of minutes, wishing all of them a happy new year, before heading to a different party.
It’s nice. Quiet. Fun. There’s no drama, not like it was last year.
Then someone suggested that they go to see the Prospect Park fireworks, and she and Farkle shrugged and went along, everyone trooping down into the subway, running from the pouring rain...
The fireworks are cancelled, they found out when they reached the park. It’s raining too hard. They ran back to the station, laughing as they splashed through the puddles.
Then she was sitting in the subway, soaking wet, next to Farkle and a woman she didn't know. Around her were her stragglers and bedraggled friends and classmates, all drenched and having the time of their lives. New Year's Eve in New York- that's the dream, she's been told. And she did Times Square when she was ten and old enough to stay up till midnight, and she did Prospect Park before that, and she's been to nearly every celebration in the city, but this one, in the subway curled up with her best friend in the whole world, strangers and friends around her all the same, freezing and counting down the minutes- this might be her favourite New York New Years yet. The alarm she set on her phone goes off, and it's two minutes to midnight. They're not even going to reach her station before midnight. By the time she gets home, it will be a new year. They stop at 9th Street and she's supposed to climb off now, but when Farkle tries to stand up and their friends crowd around the door, she tells them to stop. She hits shuffle on her music and pulls him against her and they're dancing, dancing and she doesn't know what she's doing but she loves it, wouldn't give it up for anything. Her face is thick with the makeup Maya did for her and her lips are chapped, but then he spins her and it doesn't matter. The countdown starts, from somewhere on the other end of the carriage. She joins in, and she's spinning when it strikes midnight, spinning when Farkle brings her in so close that she can feel his breath and her head is still spinning when he pulls her into a short, soft kiss. They break apart almost instantly, and she's staring at him with wide and his eyes are almost wider than hers, and they both glanced around furtively but none of their classmates' notice, too caught up in the euphoria of two thousand and sixteen. She's panting and sweat glistens on her jaw, and she breaks them apart, saying, "I have a boyfriend, Farkle, Lucas. Your friend. And you have a... Smackle."
There’s something sad in his eyes, but he nods, understanding.
“Then it was a platonic kiss, Riley. We do that all the time, don’t we?” She nods, almost imperceptibly. Then she smiles widely and spins again, laughing.
They climb off soon after that, and Farkle walks her back home, his arm over her shoulder. They don’t talk about it. It’s 2016, and Lucas is in Texas, Maya is with Josh at a college party, and Smackle had family obligations. It’s 2016, and it was a platonic kiss, she tells herself. They just both just wanted someone to kiss at midnight. It’s the same as him pressing kisses to her forehead.
It’s 2016and she’s been with Farkle for two New Years in a row.
It’s 2016, and she won’t think about how she wants to kiss Farkle again.
It’s 2016, and they laugh and talk as they walk back home, putting the kiss out of mind.
It’s 2016, Riley and Farkle are best friends.
They climb up the fire escape, trying to be quiet but making too much noise anyway, giggling about the entire experience. In her room, she tosses Farkle a couple of pillows and blankets, and he assembles his usual nest on the bay window. She climbs into bed, a smile on her face.
Maybe they’re not perfect, maybe that quick, soft kiss is haunting her as she stares up at her painted ceiling, but she won’t tell anyone that. She has Lucas, he has Smackle, everything is supposed to be perfect.
The next morning, she and Farkle make breakfast for the family (well, Farkle makes breakfast. She makes coffee. It’s safer that way). Her dad smiles and helps out, and her parents ask about their night, and they smile and recount {almost} everything.
Chapter 10: Wish I’d Been a Teen Idle
Summary:
BREAK UP
Notes:
I know it took me, like, a decade and a half to write this chapter, but I really wanted to get it right. And there are so many moments in Sweet Sixteen- I wanted to write all of them, but some of them (the Lucas & Smackle scene, particularly) didn't work in the context of now we're patriots. Which is really unfortunate. I wrote a whole scene depicting Riley's reaction to Lucas seemingly hitting on Smackle and then had to delete it.
I hope you like this, though. I do.
Also, a shoutout to insanity_keeps_things_fun, who allowed me to consult her.
Love,
TheHarleyQueen
Chapter Text
“Hey baby,” Lucas said when they saw each other after school started up again, “I missed you.”
He kissed her softly, pulling back far too soon (in her opinion). She chased after his lips, pulling him back in for another kiss. She could feel him smiling against her mouth, and she smiled back. When she pulled away, she pressed her forehead against his.
“I missed you too,” she whispered. This was the part of her relationship with Lucas that she loved. She loved when it was them, together, and they were happy. She loved not thinking about their problems.
“I have something for you,” Lucas was smiling as he brought out a small jewelry box and presented it to her. It had one of the store-bought bows hastily placed on top.
“I'm sorry I wasn't here for Christmas,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily.
“I already forgave you,” she reminded him, nudging his shoulder with her own, even as she pulled off the lid. It was cute, a long chain with a rose-quartz dragonfly at the end. When she put it on, the dragonfly lay solidly against her breastbone, and she put her hand on it, running her fingers over the quartz, “It's beautiful, Lucas.”
There was a moment of comfortable silence, “Oh!” she exclaimed, rummaging in her bag, “I have something for you too!” She pulled a thin envelope from her bag. Lucas raised his eyebrows, but she just told him to open it.
Inside was an oak leaf, trapped in a thin layer of resin.
“It’s us,” she told him, smiling, “Remember? From the ski lodge?” Lucas nodded at her, smiling, and he pulled her in for another kiss.
“Alright, break it up, lovebirds,” Maya’s voice echoed down the hall, and everyone turned to stare at them. Riley blushed bright pink but stayed where she was, laying her head on Lucas’s chest.
Maya ran down the hall towards them, skidding to a halt inches from where they stood.
“So how was Christmas in your home on the plains, Huckleberry?” she asked, trying to achieve a Texan drawl but just sounding like a cartoon character.
“Not bad, Pancake,” he shot back, handing her another box. Maya opened it- to reveal a blue quartz crystal on a chain. Riley’s smile froze in place, for a second. But you’re being ridiculous, Riley. Jewelry is a normal gift for girls. This means nothing.
Lucas and Maya are in the past, you and Lucas are in the present. And it’s not going to be the future for a long time. Focus on the present.
“In every life there are landmarks,” her dad started the lesson, “What are the historical markers of our lives? Most important first.”
“Arbor Day,” Maya chimed from behind her.
“Cookie day” Zay called from the back of the class.
“No!” Her dad shouted, grin on his face anyway- “Farkle?”
“Birth.”
“We’ll go with that- because it’s not what you said,” he jabbed at Maya, who beamed at him anyway.
“So, if birth is the most important landmark in our lives, what does that mean? What comes after birth?”
“I win the Nobel Prize,” Smackle interjects, and Riley loves this, this comfortable familiarity that comes with knowing exactly where everyone stands, what everyone is meant to be.
“Smackle, we just got born,” her dad chastens, laughing.
“I’ll wait,” she shrugs.
“Our first birthday,” that was Lucas, and she smiled at him fondly.
“So, then, we celebrate our birth every year. What’s next?”
“First steps, first words,” Zay listed off in quick succession, “The first day of school.”
“The day I met Riley and Maya and Smackle and Lucas and Zay.”
“So, we get born, we learn to walk and talk. We meet our friends. And then what?” her dad asks, and Riley doesn’t like where this is going anymore.
“Then we grow up and we’re not so little anymore,” Lucas says, smiling at her. And Riley understands- being not-so-little is what brought them together
“Then we have our various coming-of-age ceremonies,” Farkle says, always the one to know the answer.
“Right. And after that?”
“College,” Riley half-whispers, “And we all go away.”
“Riley seems to have the instinct to accelerate the clock. After all, there’s still a couple of years before that. Why is that, do you think?”
“Because I agree with Zay- we are all growing up very fast,” Riley’s hand goes to cover the back of her neck. She doesn’t like thinking about this, and she wants to stop, but she can’t, and now it’s all she can think about.
“Okay, so there it is, freshmen. You’re all going to be sixteen and seventeen next year. You’re going to thinking about where to go to college-”
“Boston University,” Smackle chimes, and Riley doesn’t miss the way Farkle’s eyes widen in surprise, and then fear, and then something else, and how he flips around to stare at his girlfriend.
“Okay, so Smackle has her life worked out,” her dad jokes, and then his face becomes more serious, “What about the rest of you? Are you better off letting life surprise you?”
“Happy Sweet Sixteen, everybody. Your assignment is to tell me what’s going to happen next.”
So, naturally, just when she’d decided to focus on the now, her dad handed out a worksheet titled- no joke- Focus on the Future. Riley’s life ran on irony and hot chocolate.
The assignment was hard, and not because it had no parameters (Riley was used to that). The problem was Riley. She didn’t know what she wanted to study (only where- New York). Even though they were only freshmen, all of her friends seemed to be on the right track to carve out real lives for themselves. Lucas was going to be a veterinarian, and Maya wanted to go to art school. Farkle’s path was headed towards Princeton, like his father before him, to a double major in engineering and business. Smackle was going to Boston to study neuroscience.
And Zay- well, Riley wasn’t entirely sure about Zay. He had a lot of plans. Sometimes, he’d say he wanted to go back to Texas after graduation, to run the family ranch. Other times, he claimed he’d study business, or the law (“a solid career” he’d say when teachers were in earshot). He’d also talk about Juilliard, or Tisch sometimes, talk about ballet, but then he’d back down again, saying that those were dreams, not viable career goals.
Riley, well, she had liked many things but had no plans for any of them. She loved space, loved Pluto and Mars, and Opportunity and Curiosity and Spirit. At the same time, she loved taking pictures, showing other people what she saw. And she loved clothes (her liberty dress had been her favourite art project of all time).
She and her friends were all set to go in different directions, far too soon, and this project made Riley want to curl into a ball and cry.
She didn’t.
She didn’t have time to cry, didn’t have time to worry about what the future held, because she barely had time to hold herself together now.
She sat with Zay at lunch. Everyone else was talking enthusiastically about the assignment, but they were quiet. They didn’t have plans, they were the odd ones out.
So she leaned against his shoulder, and held Lucas’s hand, and didn’t think about not seeing Maya every day, didn’t think about how school friendships splintered and cracked when people didn’t see each other every day.
And at Topanga’s that evening, when everyone was sitting around with coffee and exam pads, pens at the ready and nothing to write, Riley tried to puzzle through the assignment out loud.
“Okay, let’s pretend that we’ve finished our sophomore year, and we’re juniors now. What’s changed?” She looked around at her circle of friends, the people she loved so much, and she was scared. She can’t picture a future where they’re not all sitting in Topanga’s together. She can’t picture a future beyond high school.
“I don’t understand what can be calculated by projecting the future,” Farkle said, and Riley agrees, not because it’s unscientific, but because she can’t understand how she’s supposed to create a future yet.
“Are you and Maya still best friends?” Lucas asked, and Riley knew the answer to that, without question. It’s Maya. Without Maya, she’s not interesting, she’s only half a person. Maya is everything to her.
“Absolutely.” “Of course.”
That Maya is as confident in them as she is gives Riley hope, and made her feel a little less like she’s on the edge because even if she can’t picture anyone else around her, in the future she’ll always have Maya at her side.
“Are you and I still together?” He asks, and Riley hesitates for a second, this morning and Texas and the SAGA committee incident running through her head.
“...I hope so.”
Farkle and Smackle’s unanimous reaction scares her, especially when Smackle starts talking about her relationship because she can see from Farkle’s face that something is about to go wrong.
“Riley’s confidence in her relationship with Maya is far stronger than her confidence in her relationship with Lucas-”
“What can we take from this?” Farkle breaks in, trying to save her, and she loves him for it, but- “I end up with Lucas.”
Riley’s the only person who sees how Farkle’s face crumples, eyes wide and mournful; the way he snaps “Isadora!” (it’s not a joke, it’s not cute, Farkle’s hurt, and Riley doesn’t know how to comfort him without drawing attention to it).
“Oh, like yelling at me is going to stop the course of destiny,” Riley doesn’t think Smackle means it, knows she actually likes Farkle very much, but Riley wonders how no one else is seeing how sad he is.
“Are you not confident in us?” Lucas asks her, and she’s on the spot, and she can’t think, and so she says exactly what she means, without rewording or rephrasing.
“No.”
She sees the muscles in Lucas’s throat working as he swallows, and her hand goes to the necklace he gave her. She’s left with her mouth open, and she can’t breathe, doesn’t know what to say, and there are tears welling up behind her eyes and she can’t breathe- she knows what’s happening, and she can see that Farkle knows what’s happening, but neither of them knows how to stop it.
“Then why are we together?” Lucas snaps at her.
Riley crosses her arms in front of her body and she feels her shoulders hunch over.
“Because I like you, Lucas. And you like me. We’re fifteen, I thought that was good enough.”
“Yeah, for now. But if we don’t have hope for more, then what does it matter. You’re saying you expect us to break up, Riley. So why should we bother with dating until then?”
Lucas’s cheeks flushed and he looked like he was going to say something more, but Riley couldn’t let him.
“Lucas, let’s take this outside,” she hissed, gesturing with her head to the coffee shop patrons that were staring at them curiously (my teenage drama isn’t for your amusement). The tears she couldn’t were choking her, pressure against her throat as she led her boyfriend out to the courtyard.
“Lucas, I like you. And I want to be with you next year at this time. But I just… I don’t know. There’s nothing that could tear me and Maya apart, but you and me? What if you decide you like someone else better?”
“What if you do?” He shoots back, and Riley takes a half-step backward.
“I wouldn’t.”
“You might. What about those girls from your group? Or Charlie Gardner. Or- fuck, Riley, what about Farkle?”
Riley was shaking her head now, eyes fixed on a spot above Lucas’s head as she swallowed her tears.
“I can’t believe you, Lucas.” She couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and her body was trembling, and she didn’t want to win their fight using tears, she didn’t want to win their fight, she didn’t want to fight.
“Shit,” she heard him swear, and she looked up but couldn’t see anything through the tears, and then she could feel her face in the crook of his neck, his body pressed against hers.
“C’mon, Riles,” he was whispering, and she wanted to snap don’t call me Riles, but she didn’t, she just leaned into him and let him whisper into her hair, instead of telling him to stop touching her and that they were fighting.
Eventually, when she managed to stop crying for long enough to take a full breath, Lucas pressed a kiss to her forehead and then to her lips. He pulled back and wiped the tears from under her eyes, and smiled at her.
“I’m sorry for fighting, baby. I’m sorry. C’mon, let’s get you home.”
She sees Farkle through the window as Lucas leads her away. His face is in his hands and his fingers are woven through his hair.
She was lying in bed, curled up under the covers with her phone pressed to her ear when Farkle told her what had happened after she and Lucas had left. How they’d sat around exchanging awkward glances in silence, before Smackle had brought up Boston, and he’d responded with his dad’s plans for Princeton.
“But she’s serious, Riley, and I think we’re going to break up. Not, like, before we go off to college, but soon-” he breaks off, and there’s rustling through the phone, and Riley thinks she hears him sniff.
Farkle doesn’t cry, not in front of them. Riley knows that. She’s seen him cry maybe three times, in all the years she’s known him. He cried when he was eight, and broke his wrist trying to climb out of a tree. He cried the first time neither of his parents was home for his birthday. And he cried when he was twelve, and being bullied. And he was crying now, even though he was trying to hide it. She could hear his shaky breath through the receiver, and the soft noises of his sobs.
“Oh, Farkle,” she sighed, feeling tears clogging up her throat again. She wanted to cry with him, she wanted to cry for him. She pressed her forehead against the cool pane of the window, and let him cry. What else was there to do?
Riley hated this project. She hated what it had done to their friend group. She wanted everything to freeze, while they were all still in New York and safe and friends and maybe more wanted to go back to when Farkle wasn’t hurting and Smackle wasn’t setting off to Boston in a year.
“Okay Juniors, how are your lives going, what’s next for you? Smarckle.”
“Well, I’ve applied early-decision to Princeton, and I’m pretty certain I’m going to get in,” Farkle started.
“And I’ve been accepted to Harvard on the Restrictive Early Action programme.” Smackle wanted to be a neurosurgeon, and Harvard had the best neuroscience school in the world.
“Are Farkle and Smackle still together next year this time?” Her dad asked, a soft smile on his face. Riley wanted to shake her head at him, to make him stop because she knew what the resolution was, the only option that Farkle and Smackle would take, and it wasn’t something she wanted to hear.
“We aren’t together now,” Farkle told her dad, and Riley very carefully did not make eye contact with Smackle, very carefully Did Not think about New Years.
“Oh.”
The class was silent for a moment, an awkward tension splitting the air.
“It makes sense,” Smackle told them, “Farkle and I will still be friends. We tried to forge romantic ties and they didn’t work. We are still similar people. But we have different ambitions, and those romantic ties weren’t strong enough to hold us together in spite of that.”
Farkle was nodding next to her, and Riley could see that, even though they were both upset over their breakup, they both believed they were doing the right thing.
They sat down silently, and she and Maya took their place.
“We looked at all of the landmarks of our lives, and we found they all have one thing in common. They put us in a world full of people,” Riley began.
“And all we have a choice about is the people we want to keep in our lives,” Maya continued, smiling at her. Riley took her hand. She and Maya were forever and were maybe (probably, hopefully, not) longer than her and Lucas.
“I don’t want us to go anywhere. I want us to stay still-” she said, “Especially us, Lucas. I want us to stay still, for now, and maybe one day move forward. And maybe I’m not confident in us, just yet, but I have hope that I will be.” She smiled at him, warm and hopeful, and felt something burning in her chest when he smiled back.
“Life loves us,” Riley told the class (told Lucas, told Maya, told Farkle, told herself).
“Hope isn’t for suckers after all.”
As soon as she left the class, Lucas spun her around and caught her in a kiss. She melted into it, into him. For once, she felt like all was forgiven like they were completely good.
“Hey baby,” Lucas whispered against the shell of her ear.
She pressed their foreheads together and smiled. Life loved them.
Chapter 11: You Know I Love Springsteen, Faded Blue Jeans, Tennessee Whiskey
Summary:
“They made me partner,” her mom continued, reaching over to card her hands through Auggie’s hair, trying to calm him down, “Of the London office.”
Riley could vaguely hear Auggie telling her dad to ask her mom how she was going to do that from New York, but she was frozen between Maya and Lucas, and her legs were giving out from underneath her. She tried to breathe and found her lungs broken. She wondered if she was having a heart attack.
And Riley just broke.
Notes:
Thanks to Miss Taylor Swift for inspiring me to write this chapter, and Avengers: Endgame for helping me procrastinate.
Chapter Text
She walked through the door, arm-in-arm with Maya, her other hand clasped in her boyfriend's. And froze, because Augie was crying, and her mom looked terrified, and she ran through the list of people that could be hurt (Josh, Uncle Eric, Uncle Shawn, Grandma, Grampa, Grandma Rhiannon, Feeny, Uncle Jon, Ava, Aunt Morgan).
"Tell her no, dad!" Augie yelled, and Riley felt her body sag in relief, even as she felt that anxiety close up her throat.
"Tell her no!"
"No to what, Auggie?"
"Since I joined this firm, I wanted to be partner," her mother told them, slumped in her chair, "They just made me partner!"
"That's great," her dad walked over to her mom, pulling her into a deep embrace, "I'm so proud of you, Topanga. I knew you could do it."
"No!" Auggie screamed again, and Riley tensed, waiting for what had sent her little brother into such a frenzy.
"They made me partner," her mom continued, reaching over to card her hands through Auggie's hair, trying to calm him down, "Of the London office."
Riley could vaguely hear Auggie telling her dad to ask her mom how she was going to do that from New York, but she was frozen between Maya and Lucas, and her legs were giving out from underneath her. She tried to breathe and found her lungs broken. She wondered if she was having a heart attack.
And Riley just broke.
She was crying, she knew, and vaguely thought she was screaming too. Screaming for them to stay away, for them to not touch her. Lucas was still holding her arm, tighter than ever, and in the back of her mind, she knew that he was the only thing that was keeping her from falling, but she had to get away, had to run. She tried to stumble away and barely hit the sofa before collapsing entirely.
"She's having a panic attack," her mom said, "I used to get them all the time, in high school." Riley thought she was explaining to Maya and Lucas, and she desperately wanted her to be here, instead, helping Riley.
She wasn't though, she didn't care. She cared more about Maya and Lucas than her own daughter. In her blind panic, Riley stood up again, feeling like she was going to faint, and managed to make it to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.
"Riley, let me in," her mom said, voice soft. Riley shook her head, sending tears flying, even though her mom couldn't see her.
"Riley," her mom's voice was sterner this time, and Riley cringed against the door, trying to block out whatever she'd done wrong, "If you don't open this door, I can't help you. Come on, baby, open up."
"We can't, mom, we can't go," she tried to insist, voice thick.
"That's not just your decision, Riley. I'm sorry, love, but it can't be. This has to be a family decision."
It didn't. It wasn't going to be. It was going to be her mom's decision, and Topanga Lawrence-Matthews' decisions were always final. The decision made would be final, and soon, and would change her life no matter what it was. And Riley didn't want to change.
"Please come out, Riley. We're going to make the right decision, but it has to be done together."
No, it doesn't.
She didn't say it. She thought about it, even opened her mouth a couple of times to do so, but couldn't. Because it would fundamentally change their family dynamics, in a way that a panic attack never could. Riley standing up to her mom would change things. So she didn't. She stood up and went to the sink, washed her face clean and then unlocked the door. Her mom hugged her tight and Riley didn't know if she needed it or hated it, but she melted into it anyway.
She'd refused to talk to her mom about her panic attack. She'd said that it was the first time it had happened, had said that it wouldn't happen again. Had said it was because of shock. But that night, she'd opened her laptop and typed panic disorder into the search bar.
Panic Disorder | Anxiety and Depression Association of America, ADAA
Panic disorder can interfere a lot with daily life, causing people to miss work, go to many doctor visits, and avoid situations where they fear they might experience a panic attack. The interference is greatest when people also have agoraphobia, as well as panic disorder.
Quiz: Do I Have Panic Disorder?
Take our Do I Have A Panic Disorder Quiz to see if you may be suffering from a panic disorder.
Panic Disorder: What It Is and How to Get Help - WebMD
Panic attacks often happen at random and can leave you shaken. They're a symptom of panic disorder, a type of anxiety disorder. Here's what…
She just about slammed the lid shut, although she was careful not to make too much noise. She took a deep breath, in and out, like Farkle had taught her, and slowly opened it again. The results still sat there, glaring and bright on the screen, and there was no way she was ready for what those links led to. She pulled a notebook towards her and tore out a piece of paper.
She scribbled down the second link, folded up the piece of paper, and shoved it into the second drawer of her night stand. Then she closed the search and cleared her browser history. Maybe Farkle was right, but that didn't mean she needed help. Her solution wasn't perfect, but she was handling it fine. For now.
She didn't talk to any of her friends all weekend. Well, she'd texted Farkle the news, and then she'd shut off all her notifications and refused to look at what anyone had to say.
So, when she walked into History on Monday, she could feel their eyes on her.
"Has your mom made a decision on the London job offer yet?" Maya asked, and RIley just barely refrained from rolling her eyes.
"Don't you think you'll hear as soon as I've heard?" She asked.
"I don't know. I texted you over the weekend and you didn't respond. Wondered if you'd decided to make it easier on yourself by cutting us all out now."
"I just needed some time," Riley insisted, "I was embarrassed. I had a panic attack over nothing, in front of both of you."
Farkle's head shot up to look at her, and she shook her head back at him. Not the time. No, I haven't told them. Don't say anything. He pursed his lips and cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing. And she took what she could get.
"Riley, you didn't need to be embarrassed," Lucas tried to tell her, standing up to pull her into a hug, "We love you. We don't care that you had a panic attack."
"Do you think we could do this somewhere that isn't the middle of the History class?" she hissed.
"Everyone here cares for you, Riley," Lucas told her, and she gritted her teeth in response.
"I know that, but this isn't the time. I just want to get through the day, okay?" She pulled away, moving to sit in her chair, but Lucas grabbed her wrist.
"I love you, Riley," he told her, and he'd said this before, she knew he loved her. But he didn't get to do this, didn't get to use what they had against her. She pulled her wrist from this grip, moving to sit down, saying nothing.
"We need to face this, Riles. This is the end of Riley and Maya." Maya tried to insist, but Riley turned to face the front.
"This isn't happening."
"Yes it is, Riley," Farkle insisted, and she refused to look at him, didn't want the pain and heartache she was feeling to shine through.
"How do you know that?" She asked, still not looking back.
"Look at the board."
BELGIUM 1831
"The Netherlands was a group of friendly states who thought they'd stay together forever-" her dad said, and she kept looking straight ahead, even as Farkle broke in, saying, "Belgium 1831 is us."
"-until Belgium made the decision it was time to go." He dad continued, as if nothing had happened.
"It was decided that Belgium would no longer be part of the United Kingdom of the Netherlands, but its own independent country. Belgium was free. At that point, Belgium was no longer part of a group, but its own sovereign nation ready to meet the world on its own terms."
"What if it wasn't ready yet? What if none of us are ready for this?" Maya asked, desperate. "I'm not ready for this, Riley."
"So, Belgium 1831 is about our freedom?" Riley asks, and her dad smiled sadly in response.
"That was my plan. But sometimes, things happen in life earlier than they're supposed to."
"So, what do we do?"
"Our best," her dad said, "Like we've always done. We leave our good mark and we hope that people remember us fondly."
"I did my best. I hope that you remember me fondly."
"Riley, I know your mother. I know she'll seek out the advice of everyone close to her. I know she'll listen to what we have to say. And I know her decision will be the right one," her dad told her, and she couldn't help but ask-
"No matter what it is?"
"No matter what it is, we go with her," was the answer, and she nodded, because really, she'd known that all along.
Riley didn't go home. She didn't go to Topanga's, either. She went to Farkle's. She knew everyone was over at her place- Shawn and Josh and Uncle Eric and her grandparents, and probably as many more people as her mom could fit into one room. It was a good sign, she knew, that her mother was getting advice, but she couldn't be there for it. So instead, she and Farkle took the subway down to his place, and then curled up on the couch and watched Into the Woods. They didn't talk about it, didn't talk about anything.
Until, eventually, she passed him her phone, open on the results page of a quiz she'd taken.
You answered Yes to 5 question(s).
If you answered yes to one or more of these questions, you might have panic disorder or panic symptoms. Panic attacks can be very scary, and it is normal to feel initially concerned about these sensations. Panic disorder affects about 2-3% of people (adults and children) in the United States per year, so you are not alone. The good news is that panic disorder can be successfully treated with Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, which will help you learn how to effectively manage your panic disorder. If you are experiencing any of the above symptoms, and they are negatively interfering with your life, it might be time to seek help.
It will be important to begin with a structured psychiatric evaluation by a professional to see if you meet the criteria for panic disorder, which will inform your treatment plan. Our mental health impacts many aspects of our lives, such as our physical health and our quality of life, which is why it is so important to address any mental health problems with effective treatments.
This material is not a substitute for the advice of a licensed professional. To begin your search for a mental health professional, go to the ADAA's Therapist Directory.
"You can't tell anyone," she insisted fiercely, "Farkle, this doesn't change anything. Swear to me."
"I've loved you since the first grade," Farkle told her, "I'd do anything for you, Riley."
"I know. That's why I'm asking you to do this. Please."
"I always will, wherever you are," Farkle continued, as if she hadn't said anything, "I can't let anything hurt you, Riley. Especially not you."
"Everything hurts me, Farkle," she tried to explain, "This panic thing. London. My relationship with Lucas, sometimes. I just needed to know this, I needed to know how to stop it. But I'm not broken, I don't need a psychiatrist or meds or whatever else. I just- need some help."
"And if you go to London?" Farkle shot back, "Who's going to be helping you then?"
"If I go to London, it doesn't matter anymore," she told him.
"It matters to me."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, whisper soft, and she closed her eyes against it.
"I love you, Farkle."
"I love you too."
"Take me to Mars," she pleaded, "Take me to Mars so I don't have to go to London. You, me, Mars. We could do it."
"Riley," he whispered, and then she caught his lips in another kiss, even softer than the first.
Their heads rested together, his arms still around her, and he breathed her in.
"I'm sorry!" She exclaimed before he could say anything, "But if this was the end- I had to see-"
"Riley, you and Lucas-"
"Farkle, I fought for me and Lucas. I love Lucas. Maybe one day, I'll be in love with Lucas. But-" she broke off to swallow.
"But?" Farkle prompted.
"But Mars," she shrugged, blinking back tears. Real tears, not panic tears. "But Mars, Farkle. Lucas will never give me Mars."
"Neither will I," he frowned in confusion, "Riley, I'm not a kid anymore. I don't plan on colonizing Mars for us."
"But you once did." Riley explained, "I don't want the planet, Farkle. I want the promise. And-" she broke off, furiously wiping away the tears that dripped silently over her cheeks, and then changed direction, "I don't want London."
"Your mom won't move if she sees it affects you like this," Farkle assured her, but she shook her head, "I don't want her to resent me. I don't want to resent myself for stopping her." She sighed, "I'll see where she takes me."
"You'll come back, though?" He asked, "For college. And after that."
"Yeah," she nodded. "Nowhere I'd rather be."
He smiled through his own tears, and they turned but to the movie, credits rolling. They said nothing.
She found Maya later, after she went home, in the Bay Window.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Riley sat down, and Maya turned to look out the window at the city.
"Shawn's adopting me."
"Maya, that's wonderful!" she declared, genuine happiness for Maya clouding everything else out.
"Yeah." Maya faced her again, and her eyes were glassy with tears, "Maya Hunter. What do you think?"
"Yeah." Riley confirmed, "Definitely."
"Too bad you won't be here to see it."
"We don't know that yet," Riley tried to tell her, even as more of those treacherous tears started slipping out, "We don't."
"Your mom will do great in London, Riles," Maya told her, "She should go."
"I shouldn't."
"I don't know if we get a choice in that."
They sat in silence for nearly a minute, each second ticking by, terribly slow, before Maya broke it again, "Riley?"
"Yeah?"
"Goodbye."
"No."
The whole family met her mom in Topanga's, sitting in the dark.
"I've made my decision," she said softly, "Please don't try to talk me out of it."
"We know better," her dad responded, sitting next to her and putting his arm around her, "So?"
"So, there are a lot of exciting reasons to go. A new place, a new adventure, my promotion. There are a whole bunch of reasons to go. But I've got one reason to stay. Every time I watch you girls in the bay window, I've remembered how much we wanted a place like it of our own. A place where important decisions are made and the best next steps of your life are planned and considered. We would do great in England. We would do great anywhere in the world. I could run the London office. Maybe someday, I'll get to run the New York office. But the place I love running is this place that we're in right now. Where your friends come in, and you plan the best next steps of your life, like we're doing right now. This is my bay window. And I'm not leaving it."
"So, New York?" She had to be sure.
Her mom nodded.
"New York."
The rest of the week passed by in a blur of relief. Her dad finished his syllabus on the United Kingdom of the Netherlands, but she hardly heard it. Lucas didn't let go of her hand, and she didn't care. Maya caught her in a hug whenever they saw each other, and she barely managed to put her arms in the right place. She felt like she'd used up all of her emotions.
When she'd told Farkle, he'd smiled at her, soft, and nodded, like he already knew. He'd kissed her cheek and gone to his first class.
In the last class of Friday, her dad had written BELGIUM 1831 on the board again.
"So what have you learned?" He asked, looking around. Only Farkle's hand went up, and he nodded, letting him answer.
"There comes a time when the right thing to do is to leave the friends you know, see what's out there, and face a new world." Farkle said, his eyes on her.
"Yeah? What do you have to say about that?"
He stood up and walked to the board, erasing what was written.
"Not yet."
Their eyes met.
Neither looked away.
Chapter 12: In My World The Boys Always Call (And the Girls Do Too)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The apathy hit at the same time as finals. Riley had never experienced something so awful before, but she couldn't be bothered to do something about it. Because she couldn't study, couldn't think straight, some days she could barely muster up the strength to walk down the stairs.
Her time with Lucas and Maya and Farkle was cut short because of all the time she was spending not studying, and then the time she spent trying to make it up in the middle of the night, and she could hardly bring herself to care about it.
She sat at her desk, staring blankly at Spanish notes covered in beautiful highlights that sat in front of her. Hungry, but couldn't be bothered to go find something to eat. Tired, but scared that if she closed her eyes, she'd never open them again.
She heard someone push they bay window open.
"Do you think you can come back some other time?" Se asked, not even bothering to turn around and find out who it was. Only so many people came through the bay window, "I'm just- I'm really busy studying right now, and-"
"I know you are, Riley," it was Lucas's voice behind her, and his body that pressed against her back when his arms wrapped around her, folding into a hug, "Because you've been really busy studying for weeks. And you're going to do amazing on these exams, but you need a break, baby. You'll drive yourself mad like this. Take an hour break. C'mon, baby. It's a Friday." She smiled softly, not letting him see, before schooling her face and spinning her chair around to face him.
"Why should I?" she challenged, but a smirk was already itching at the corners of her lips.
"Well, 'cause I packed a picnic for us, and it would be a real shame to let it go to waste," he told her, holding up a backpack.
"And, y'know, we haven't been on a date since it was decided that you're staying," he smiled at her hopefully, and she felt her resolve crumble. "Half an hour," she stipulated, "And I can't go too far."
"You don't have to go anywhere, Riles," he affirmed {don't call me Riles}, spreading out a knitted blanket on the floor and tossing a couple of pillows from her bed down as well.
He knew her well, there was no denying it.
They sat down to mini muffins that his mom had made, and orange juice from the shop down the street.
"So, Maya has invited us to a… slam poetry thing, I think? After the exams. What do you think? I mean- me, personally, I'm not major into poetry, but it's at a coffee place that apparently does amazing hot chocolate. It sounds like it could be fun." She stared out the window, chewing slowly, getting her thoughts in order. It would be fun, for the six of them to spend time together. They hadn't really done that since London. Since before Farkle and Smackle broke up. The exams had been keeping them all busy, and most of the time they'd been spending together was during study sessions at Topanga's.
Maya had actually tried to invite her to a slam poetry evening last week when Zay was interested in going. Riley had begged off, claiming the need to study. But obviously they'd gone, and really enjoyed it.
"Riley?"
She snapped back to look at him, a broad smile on her face and worry in her eyes. "We should definitely go. It sounds brilliant."
"But?"
She smiled a half-smile and put her hand on his. "But, I was thinking about our friend group. Farkle and Smackle just broke up. And I'm worried for Zay and Maya. And Josh. How is this arrangement going to work?"
He ran a hand through his hair, and wound his fingers through hers, "I don't know." He said. "I really don't. Zay… really likes Maya. Has liked her for a while, I think. And Maya…" he trailed off, a kindness, not wanting to say anything about the friend that they both adored so much.
"Maya's liked Josh for years," she told him, "It only became serious when we were fourteen, but I remember my birthday parties when we were like, nine, and Josh was twelve. He always spent time with us, but Maya would, like, follow him around. She thought he was amazing. And she still does."
"I love Maya, and I love Josh. And they clearly love each other, in some way. Even if it's a teenage infatuation. But Zay's one of my best friends, too, and I can't let him get hurt. Lucas, if he thinks he's going to- win Maya over, or something, he's going to get his heart broken."
For a long while, Lucas didn't say anything. What was there to say? She reached over and rubbed the crease between his eyebrows, and he met her eyes, flashing a quick smile.
"You're right." He told her. "You're right, and I don't even want to say it, but it's true. And it doesn't mean I don't love- it doesn't mean Maya's any less my friend. But, Riley, we can't do anything."
"We can-"
"No. Please don't- it's not like-" He broke off, and pulled her hands up to his lips to kiss her knuckles, "Sometimes, people's hearts are stronger than their heads. This is one of those times, I think. Even if we tried to explain this to Zay, he wouldn't listen, I don't think."
"They'll break each other's hearts," she warned, and he sighed softly in response.
"Yes. They will. But sometimes, that's the only option. Like with Farkle and Smackle." She raised an eyebrow.
"Farkle and Smackle- they're so much alike. They used science to justify being together for ages. They were more ready for a relationship than you and me, but they weren't going to last. Even if they'd planned on going to the same college, I think. They just both want more out of life."
She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to find the right way to phrase what she wanted to say.
"Riley?"
"It's just… you think Smackle and Farkle were inevitably going to break up, but when I thought we might not last until next year..." she trailed off. She didn't want to ruin their day with this. Lucas drew a deep breath and nodded.
"Yeah. I… was wrong, about that. I thought about it a lot, especially after the whole thing with you maybe going away. And I realised you were right. That we weren't a definite, that something could possibly break us apart. And I just kept thinking about this one thing I said to you- I said that if we were expecting to break up, why should we bother with dating until then. And eventually, I realised that you go into every relationship- friendship, romance, all of it. Thinking there's a chance it won't work out, but you do it anyway, on the off chance that you're wrong. I was wrong about this, Riley. I'm hoping you were wrong about us."
"Me too."
She shifted so she could lean back against him, and they let the silence linger for several moments.
"I love you." He said it out of the blue. He'd said it before, at the ski lodge, and in fights, but never like this, never an unprompted declaration just because he wanted to. She melted into him even more, letting her body conform to the shape of his. "You don't have to say it back, I know you're still-"
"I love you too." For a couple of seconds, there was just quiet, even though she could feel his smile pressed against her hair.
"That's the first time you've told me that since we were in Texas."
"The context was very different then," she agreed, turning her head to brush a light kiss against his lips. He moved his head to meet her. "But I do. I love you. And I want you to know that."
"You know you never have to say yes to anything I ask?" he checked, and she hummed in assent. He let out a soft half-laugh, stroking her hair. "Well, as long as you know that, I'd like to ask if I can kiss you again?" His voice went up at the end of his sentence. She moved again, so that she was sitting cross-legged across from him, and kissed him. His hand caught her jaw and held her there, soft and gentle.
She drew back slightly, and their foreheads resting together. They breathed each other in, the late afternoon light falling across their faces.
"After our talk, when we thought you were moving to London, I thought we'd broken up," Lucas told her. "For like a good couple of hours, I just thought that, even though you weren't leaving, you weren't- you didn't want- I knew that we wouldn't try a long distance relationship, but I was worried that you didn't want to keep trying when you were here. After all the fighting we've done recently? I was scared."
She'd been scared, too. After her mom had told them they were staying, she hadn't known what the conversations she'd had when she thought she was leaving meant. Whether they still counted, or whether it had been a things-I'd-only-say-if-we'll-never-see-each-other-again type of conversation. Eventually, she'd decided to remember the sentiment and ignore the decisions about what they'd be if she was a thousand miles away {had decided to ignore Farkle, because when she thought about him she thought about kissing when the credits rolled and she thought about Mars and her panic disorder}. And she'd sent Lucas a text- just a short one, at first, telling him she was glad she was his girlfriend. He'd responded with a heart, and they'd never brought it up again. But she hadn't thought that the waiting had affected Lucas. It hadn't even occurred to her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know-"
"Don't be sorry. It's absolutely fine that you needed time. But. Riley, I don't ever want you out of my life. I love talking to you, being around you. It's some of the best parts of my day. So, I wanted to ask you, even if we break up- promise me we'll still be friends."
"Yes."
She knew it was a promise she might not be able to keep. If they broke up, both of them would be hurt by it. That was the nature of these things, but he looked so hurt, and scared, and tired, that she didn't feel like she could explain that now.
"Yes. Yes, of course. Above whatever else are, we're friends. Best friends. You, and me. And Maya and Farkle. And Zay and Smackle. It's us, all of us, no matter what."
She ran a thumb across his jaw and leaned in.
"Can I kiss you?"
"Yeah."
After the exams, she and Lucas went to the poetry evening. Her marks had been fine, just as Lucas had promised they would be, and she and Lucas were better than ever.
She and Farkle were worse than ever. She'd hardly spoken to him since the scandal of London. Since she'd kissed him. Because she was with Lucas, and she was happy with Lucas, and she'd decided that that was what she needed to focus on. Because when she was around her best friend, she faltered, sometimes. She became too vulnerable. Became unfocused.
When she arrived with a knitted black beret and her boyfriend on her arm, Maya had immediately pulled them over to a small corner, filled mostly by a soft sofa and Zay.
They engaged in all the usual small talk, but when Zay mentioned that Smackle and Farkle weren't invited, Riley blinked in surprise. And after she'd sent the boys off for drinks, she asked Maya why.
She put her hand on the back of the neck and said, "Well, it's kind of a double date thing? And we didn't want them to feel awkward or pressured, I mean, they only broke up not so long ago. And you know, they've been civil and it's really like they never dated, but we didn't want to make it a whole thing."
"It's a double date thing?" Riley echoed. "Maya- what about Josh? What about the long game?"
"I'm still waiting on my long game, Riley. And I still think it's going to be Josh. But in the meantime, I want to have fun. I still want to go on dates and live my life." And Riley understood the urge, so she said nothing, even though she was thinking about how Josh had asked after Maya at dinner, how he'd slumped just a little after she'd told him that she thought that Maya and Zay were still maybe-dating.
She didn't say anything about it for the rest of the night, deciding to just relax and enjoy herself instead. And it was fun, she had to admit that. Good entertainment, good hot chocolate. Good company.
They stopped at Topanga's before Lucas dropped her off. The coffee shop had been brilliant, but they didn't do pastries like Topanga's did.
That was where they bumped into Farkle.
She'd stared at him, slightly embarrassed. Now that she was confronted with him, truly and properly for the first time since she'd kissed him, she felt a bit ridiculous for ignoring him the way she had.
"What are you doing here?" It slipped out before she even knew what she was saying. And why would she say that? He was more than welcome to be here, in this coffee shop where the six of them spent most of their time, regardless of whether it was below her building or not.
"Danish," he said, holding up a brown paper bag in explanation. "And, uh, I was kind of hoping I'd see you. For the first time in weeks." He looked a bit put out, and she couldn't blame him.
"Riley, can we talk?"
She glanced over to where Lucas, Maya and Zay were ordering, and then nodded, ushering him out the door.
They stood in the spring air for a moment, silent. Both remembering the last time they were standing outside Topanga's with a secret between them.
"I'm not going to tell anyone." This time. He rubbed his fingers across his brow, and the words seemed to stick in his throat.
"If that's what you're scared of, I mean. If that's why you won't talk to me. I know I don't have a great track record, but-"
"I'm sorry!" the words burst from her, without her permission. "I shouldn't have ignored you. It was mean and petty, and unfair."
"Yeah, it was." He agreed quietly. But then he sighed.
"Riley even if- even if it worked, between us- which we don't know that it wouldn't- I mean-" he changed track, "not that we'd specifically want it to or anything, but." He cut himself off and took a deep breath.
"Riles. We're teenagers. We're meant to be doing dumb shit, and on top of that," his lip quirked up in the way it did when he found something ironic, "Both of us have way too many issues to be considering that now. Because Riley and Farkle are forever. And if we wanted to change anything between us-"
"That would be for forever too." It was something Riley knew to be true. She and Maya were forever. She and Farkle were forever. And if either of them would ever consider a romantic relationship with her {something that she ached for, sometimes. Maya, her sun. Precious and feminine and wild. Or Farkle, her Mars. Kind and clever and beautiful}, that relationship would be the last one she'd ever want. Her Cory&Topanga relationship.
Farkle nodded.
"Yeah. And you have a boyfriend you're happy with, a boyfriend that you love." It wasn't him providing reasons for something that couldn't do. It was him stating a fact.
"I love you too."
"I know."
"You're my best friend."
"What about Maya?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Maya is too. So are Lucas, and Zay, and Smackle. All of you are my best friends. I refuse to choose." They held each other's gaze for another second, and a million moments flashed between them {Romeo and Juliet-study nights- here comes the sun- dancing around the art theory room- in Topanga's with Mila and Emma- New Years Day- rubbing BELGIUM 1831 off the board}.
Then she pulled him in for a hug, breathing in the scent of him. They were Riley and Farkle. It would take a lot more than a couple of kisses to drive them apart.
Notes:
Gather around kids, and let me tell you the story of what happens when you write an AU and then don't update for several months: you forget what you changed. I went back and rewrote half this chapter because I forgot that Riley and Farkle kissed in the previous one.
Speaking of which- I do not condone cheating. At all. But sometimes we write characters who do bad things. Riley and Farkle are not bad people. Farkle isn't trying to give them a 'reason' to not cheat when he says that Riley has a boyfriend that she loves. He's not reminding them of that to keep them from cheating. It's an honest observation. And he doesn't want to get in the way of that.
This chapter was really important to me. I wanted to show that Lucas has flaws, yes, but he's also a good person. He's kind and loving and deeply cares for Riley. And he's learning. He'd never considered bisexuality before, and he's gathering new knowledge, forming new opinions. That didn't come through particularly strongly in this chapter, but it will soon.
Lucas isn't a step on the path to Farkle for Riley. He's her boyfriend, and she loves him. Even if we know Riarkle is going to be endgame (which you only know because I tagged it) Riley doesn't. At the moment, Lucas could be just as permanent of a fixture in his life as Maya or Farkle would be- possibly even more because he's the one she's in a relationship with.
Girl Meets World was about adolescent trials and had it been on another network, it would have been like Boy Meets World in that it was about real struggles. I want that to carry through, now that I've chosen to finish what Disney started. I hope that it will satisfy.
Love,
TheHarleyQueenP.S. I don't post for a couple of months and then write a 300 words chapter note? Who do I think I am?
Chapter 13: Heaven is Overrated
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
For Riley, the summer of 2016 arrived with her first Pride festival after coming out. The march was happening on the 26th of June, two days after school ended, and she'd planned it meticulously. She wasn't going to let this day go wrong, not when it was her first Pride march since she'd come out (well, mostly- she'd never explicitly told her parents, but she didn't hide it either). Josh was staying over the night before, so they could get to Abingdon Square early to watch the start of the parade, where Uncle Shawn was going to meet them there with Maya. She'd even organised for Farkle, Smakcle, Lucas and Zay to meet them around one o' clock so that they could see everything that New York Pride could be. She couldn't wait.
But before that, there were two days. Josh was actually staying with them until Pride- because he'd had to vacate the dorm after the semester ended and grandma and grandpa lived up in Philadelphia- and they spent most of those days together. They went to watch Paper Towns on the 24th after school was over, and spent the evening in Topanga's debating what they'd wear to the festival. He also woke her up at what felt like the crack of dawn (really, it was closer to 7 am) on the 25th, insisting that she go on a run with him.
It was a relatively new tradition, something they'd only started a couple of months after Josh moved to the city, and not something they did every weekend. It had helped to keep her fitness up for middle school cheerleading (she had gone to high school cheerleading tryouts, and the coach had let her- and then turned around and asked her politely not to return in her sophomore year) and it had been fun to spend more time with her youngest uncle.
She hadn't intended to wake up at the crack of dawn on the first day of summer vacation, though, and she'd moaned about it until she'd had a cup of coffee shoved into her hands.
But by the time Josh managed to force her out the door, she was looking forward to the brisk air and burning muscles that came with running with Josh. They never went far- neither of them was training for anything. Normally, they ran for only a couple of blocks, and they did it in comfortable silence. It was just a good way to relax and spend time together.
This time was different. They'd just turned onto Bank Street when a car pulled up next to them. There were two guys inside, both somewhere around to Josh's age. One was sitting on the window of the passenger side.
"Come on baby, how 'bout you pull those shorts a little higher."
She tried to ignore them and speed up, and Josh kept pace with her, his face pulling into a frown.
"Gorgeous legs, babe," the passenger yelled across the car. She clenched and unclenched her fists and gritted her teeth, but looked straight ahead. It wasn't like this was the first time that she'd been catcalled, and while she was living in New York, it wouldn't be the last.
"What? You can't say thank you?"
That was what set her uncle off. He whirled to face the men, hissing, "She's fifteen, assholes. Fuck off!" They just snickered in response, and sped up, leaving Riley and Josh behind.
"Gimme a call when you're legal, honey!" The passenger called back.
Once they were well out of sight, Riley let herself shudder and suck in a breath, trying to keep from bursting into tears. Josh pulled her slightly, signalling to stop, and she let herself slow down. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, letting his hug say everything he didn't know how to- I'm sorry, I wish there weren't people like that, You don't deserve this (they were practically the same height, but she felt small again, like when she was ten and he was thirteen and hitting his growth spurt). And Riley tried to follow the steps she'd learned, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, focusing on what was really around her, what she could touch (she'd learned them with Farkle, sitting on his bed, google open and eyes closed). But she could feel the panic crawling up on her, the same way she could feel the catcaller's words on her skin.
It felt like her feet had stuck to the pavement, and as her breathing started to come faster, she looked at her uncle with wide eyes before trying to pull away. She stumbled before she could take two steps, but Josh caught her and all but carried her over to the stairs in front of the nearest brownstone.
He let her cry, and bring her breathing back to normal on her own time. He just stroked her back softly and said nothing. Eventually, she picked her head up from where it was resting on her knees.
"I hate them." Her voice was thick and raspy from crying, and she hugged her knees closer together.
"You'll never see them again-"
"Not those two, specifically. Although, yeah, them too. I hate everyone that does this, that makes people feel this way," she whispered, letting her head fall again.
"Riley, does this happen often?"
She sighed deeply and locked her eyes on the pavement. "Not enough to call it often, but yeah. It happens."
She could feel Josh's eyes on her, soft and kind, but she kept looking down. "It's just. The way of the world, you know? It happens to all the girls I know."
"Then I guess it's lucky that you're planning on doing something about it."
"I'm not planning anything," she denied, even as the beginnings of a smile caught at the edge of her lips.
"Then why do you sound like you're planning something?" He asked. She laughed, throaty and tear-soaked, and let herself really smile.
"Well, I might be planning something."
They walked the rest of the way to her house in silence. Not companionable silence like before, but tense angry silence that split the air around them. They walked in solidarity. holding hands to protect each other from the world.
She called Maya when they got home, asked her to bring all the paint she had. And then she headed up to her closet and dug out one of the dresses she'd bought in her thrift session last year. It was simple, white, and had cost five dollars.
She laid it out across the floor and smiled at Josh. His hand was rubbing the back of his neck, and he was trying not to meet her eyes.
"Uncle Josh?"
It had the intended effect, a glowing smile cracking across his face.
"You don't really call me that anymore." He said, still not meeting her eyes.
"It was kind of weird," she told him, sitting down at his side on the Bay Window seat. He shifted next to her, leaning against the window. In response, she lay her legs across his lap. They just existed, like that, for several minutes, before Josh spoke again.
"I liked it anyway." He shrugged lightly, and his voice faded out for a couple of seconds before he rushed out- "Riley, this thing with me and Maya-" he stopped again and seemed to be choosing each word when he started back up.
"I really, really like Maya. I think she's vibrant and interesting and kind and passionate and she's important to me-" It felt like there was a but coming, and Riley didn't know whether to hope that it was or that it wasn't.
"Did I do the right thing when I said long game? Because she's happy now, and going on dates now, and it feels a bit like a jail bait wait, even though I'm not planning on dating her the moment she turns seventeen. Maya deserves the world, Riley, and I don't know how to give it to her."
This was an area that Riley had experience with. She'd also stayed up late, worrying about Maya, about whether she was a good enough friend for Maya {about whether she was good enough for Maya}. She'd woken up in the middle of the night to bake cookies to give to her best friend as a surprise in the morning, just to prove her worth.
"Josh- Uncle Josh. It's difficult for me to know what to say. Maya's my best friend. I love her, and I love you. And I'd never want either of you to get hurt- or to hurt each other." She watched her uncle carefully, waiting for something to give away how he felt about what she was saying. But his eyes stayed closed, and his face stayed neutral.
"Having said that-you both like each other- so much. You both shine when you're in the same room, never mind actually spending time together."
She pulled in a deep breath. For Maya. You want Maya to be happy.
"People get hurt in relationships. Mom and dad hurt each other when they were teenagers. Lucas and I fight. It happens. But don't give up on somebody, just because you're not ready now."
"You understand why I'm not ready now, though?" he asked, and there was something in his voice. She thought he wanted to be told he'd made the right choice. She thought he wanted to be told he'd made the wrong one.
She also thought about the last couple of years. When Maya was desperate when she started acting like Riley. Her confusion over her possible feelings for Lucas, her hope that she'd pinned on Josh. It was high school drama- drama Josh wanted to be done with, the drama he'd already gone through once.
"Yes."
She loved Maya, loved her wild impulsivity and her style and her passion for art. But she also knew Maya, who was confused about her feelings and felt alone and abandoned and angry at her dad and her step-mom and her half-siblings that she'd never met. Riley knew Maya, who was a mess and didn't love her any less for it, didn't think that her past meant that she was incapable of being in a relationship. She also knew that Maya was fifteen, and not looking for the long-term kind of relationship that Josh wanted. That neither she nor any other fifteen-year-old was planning for their first high school relationship to be their only relationship.
She didn't say any of that though. Some of it was implied, and some of it was between just her and Maya. Instead, she lay down across the Bay Window seat and closed her eyes.
They lay like that, her and her uncle, not acknowledging anything outside of themselves and letting time fade away until the tell-tale knocking of Maya at the window came through.
She had a leather messenger bag slung across her chest (it had once belonged to her dad's dad. Another thing her dad had left behind when he left).
"You ready to smash the patriarchy?"
Riley beamed and took the paints from Maya, spreading them out across the floor. Behind he, she could hear Maya and Josh hugging, and the quiet whisper from her uncle- "Long game?"
"Long game," Maya confirmed he voice soft and warm.
She woke up early the next morning. The nerves had set upon her at some time during the night, and she was awake at four, far too early and far too wired. She'd made coffee and sat in the bay window, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to slow her heart rate.
That was where Josh found her at 6 a.m. when their alarms went off, staring out the bay window as the sun rose.
"You ready for this, neech?"
They weren't in the parade (Uncle Eric was, as the openly-gay mayor of New York, and had offered for them to join him- they'd declined) (thank god- she didn't think she could have handled that) but she was making a statement, and she was scared. She was putting her money where her mouth was, and she wanted it to go perfectly. She didn't think it would. She didn't say any of that, though. Instead, she drained her coffee and stood up, getting ready to get ready.
It was a long process, half because of the extra care she wanted to put into the outfit, half because of the nerves and excitement boiling in her stomach. She was wearing sneakers (the amount of walking she was going to be doing could not be done in heels) and had roped Josh into doing her makeup when they'd first made plans. He painted her eyelids with rainbows and glitter, and she offered up the brightest pink lipstick she had.
They made it out the door by eight- three hours before the PrideFest and the march began, but to Riley, it already felt as if they were running late. She fixed her dress again as if that would somehow change what she was wearing. It didn't.
They were going to meet Uncle Shawn and Maya at Abingdon Square and walk the rest of the way together. That was probably what she was most nervous about. If Uncle Shawn- who'd dressed up as a woman to prove a point about misogyny- thought that she was too much, she'd turn right back around and put on the shorts and t-shirt she'd been planning to wear.
She was more than prepared for that to happen, but when he saw her, he smiled. The widest smile she could imagine, and then wider still. Splashed across her chest was the phrase he'd taught her- ABUSE OF POWER COMES AS NO SURPRISE. She'd tied a thick belt around her waist, and below that, she and Maya had painted on the catcalls she'd had thrown at her in speech bubbles. YOU CAN'T SAY THANK YOU? And GIMME A CALL WHEN YOU'RE LEGAL and YOU LOOK LIKE A GOOD GIRL {last fall when she'd been wearing knee-high socks and a plaid skirt. She hadn't worn that outfit for a month afterwards}.
It was the pride in his eyes that had kept her afloat. That had promised her that she could do this when she walked down the street.
And after that, it was everyone else. At PrideFest, women and men alike had told her that they loved her dress, that they understood. That they had stories of their own. And they told her those stories too. Being yelled at to smile. Told that they'd be raped. Called a dyke by some guy in a red cap. It was surreal, and it was comforting. She wasn't the only one. Other people felt her pain, were just as angry as her {for the first time, it felt like}.
After that, Pride felt like something of a magical blur. Every second she was there, she felt like she'd found her place and her people. She danced with her family and laughed louder than she had the right to.
Farkle, Lucas, Zay and Smackle arrived a little after one. And she felt herself melt, because her boyfriend and her best friend had painted the bi flag on their left cheeks, and glitter splashed in the corners of their eyes. They were wearing matching pins, black and white ones that said 'Your Ally'.
She pecked Farkle on the cheek, and flung herself into Lucas's arms. He spun her around and she laughed, bright and happy. She'd been so scared because she'd known that her sexuality would be a make-or-break thing between them. But if Lucas supported her, there was nothing she couldn't do. She pressed a hard kiss to his mouth, and he softened around her. Uncle Shawn and Josh wolf-whistled somewhere behind them, and when they pulled back, she could see Maya and Zay exchanging a soft greeting kiss. Her eyes flickered over to Josh, worried for how this newest development would make him feel (he hadn't been around Maya-and-Zay yet, and their conversation from the day before was still heavy in Riley's mind) but her youngest uncle was hugging Farkle in greeting and complementing the flag on his cheek.
"I love you," she whispered against Lucas's lips before she pulled back. He smiled and kissed her again, "I love you too." They rejoined their friends, their family, vibrating with excitement and love and only good things.
When she thought about that Pride, even a decade later, Riley always held true to the belief that they were the happiest people in the world, right then. Happy and whole and accepted and loved, by each other and the world and life, and whatever came next.
The rest of the summer passed in warm temperatures and Maya. Summer was Riley and Maya time- it always had been, but since the beginning of high school, and the time that it took away from Riley & Maya time. And Riley refused to let summer do the same. She ensured that there was a time for everything- weekend-long sleepovers, watching movies until the credits, double dates, and wild exploits that always fell through.
It was during one such sleepover/wild exploit that Farkle crawled through her window. He didn't say anything, and neither did she. This happened far too often, and she knew the routine. She sat upright, to give him free access to her hair, and let him braid (normally, she'd put a movie on, but Sweeny Todd was already playing) (Maya's idea). When Farkle's parents weren't home, and he didn't know where else to go, he came to the Matthews residence, and make a nest at the Bay Window {for all her dad's fussing over Lucas being in her room, even before they were dating, he'd never once tried to kick Farkle Minkus out. She wondered how much he knew, and how much he'd guessed. After all, he'd gone to school with Stewart Minkus and Jennifer Bassett-Minkus}.
"Wait, what the fuck?"
But their routine didn't account for Maya.
Farkle remained steadfastly braiding her hair, not saying anything. A fight, then, and a bad one at that. Farkle tended to shut down while he was processing, and it had taken Riley years to get him to the point where he'd come to her instead of just being alone.
It was up to her to explain then. Farkle's silence was almost deafening, and Maya stared at them like she'd never seen them before.
"Maya-"
"Did you think I'd just be okay with you cheating on Lucas?"
Riley could have sworn her eyes were about to fall out of her face.
"I- we're not- that's not what this is-" she stammered.
"So Farkle just crawls through your window and neither of you says anything and this is obviously like a regular thing and it's not cheating?" Riley hadn't seen Maya so mad in ages, and certainly not at her.
"No, we're not, Maya-"
"Riley we all know how close you two are and I really always thought in middle school it was only a matter of time-"
"You thought what?" She really hadn't seen that coming. She shook herself a little, careful not to let her hair fall out of Farkle's grasp, "That's not the point. Maya. I wouldn't cheat on Lucas. You know that." She holds Maya's eyes as she says it as if it's the only way to convince her, blue and brown locked together {she very firmly doesn't think about New Years or London}.
Maya eventually relents. Her posture softens, and shame clouds her eyes, "You're right, honey, I do know that." She lies on her stomach, chin perched in her hand.
"So what's up?"
"None of your business." His voice is dark and angry, and he doesn't sound like the Farkle she knows at all. The last time he'd sounded like this, she'd been receiving anonymous texts.
"What the hell, Farkle?"
"It isn't." He shrugs casually, but it's practised. His shoulders are still tense. He pulls the first braid into a hair tie. "The only reason you're interested is because you still think that Riley's cheating on Lucas. You wouldn't have been so up-in-arms about it if you weren't seriously worried about it. It's fine, Maya. Riley's not cheating on Lucas. Everyone's too blinded by everyone else to figure out that you're still in love with him too."
"Why on Earth would I be quiet about it if I was still in love with Lucas? Why would I still be in love with Lucas? My feelings for him were-"
"Made up to see if he was good enough for Riley, yeah, I know the story Maya. But that's not how it works. You don't just unlove someone. It takes time. So good for you, distracting yourself with Zay until you're actually not in love with him anymore, or whatever you've been doing. But Riley's not cheating on Lucas, and so it's really none of your business what I do when I come over here."
Maya's eyes went steely, and Riley watched her nails dig their way into her palms as her hands curled into fists. She was close to actually throwing a punch, Riley thought, helpless to stop the trainwreck happening in front of her. Maya stands up and grabs her duffel bag, flouncing towards the door.
"I'm gonna call Shawn to pick me up. I get that you're mad, so I'll let it slide, but I expect an apology. I'll be downstairs if anyone needs me." She slammed the door behind her. Riley stared after it, wondering if she should go after her. But her eyes flickered back to Farkle, who was shaking with unshed tears and fury.
"You didn't mean that," she told him, putting her hand on his knee. Letting him rest against her.
"Yeah. No, I didn't. Fuck. I'll have to apologize to Maya. It's- I'm- I don't- shit. Shit, what am I gonna do?" He let go of the second braid, still unfinished, and it fell against her back. He pulled his knees up against his chest and put his head between them.
"Do? Farkle, what can you do?"
"It's my fault she left." It broke Riley's heart, to hear another of her friends go through this. Hell, at this rate she was going to adopt all of them.
"No, Farkle, it's not. You know that. Your parents have problems, and you fight with them, but she made this decision, not you-"
"I told her to go."
She blinked a couple of times, speechless, "She still had a choice."
"No, I told her she needed to leave my dad. For her own good, I mean. They have the same four fights over and over- money, me, she's a drunk, they don't have sex. I had no idea people with more money than they could spend in a lifetime could fight over money." She watched him through a layer of tears, as he stood up and started pacing around her room, "She's never going to get sober while she's with my dad. She goes to rehab, and then they make up, and then they fight, and then she starts drinking again. I've seen it, I've done the calculations and run the simulations. We're what's holding her back, me and my dad. So I finally convinced her to leave him."
"I still don't understand what you can do." She tries to stay calm, but she can feel the sorrow and pity creeping up in her voice, and Farkle doesn't need that right now.
"I have to tell my dad she's gone."
"He doesn't know?"
"He's in Beijing for another week," he informed her.
"You didn't tell me."
"Riley, if I told you every time one of my parents left, you'd be hearing from me every day." And she knew she'd been thinking the same thing earlier, but to hear it said aloud so casually made her heart sink.
"Tell me next time," she insisted anyway, and he nodded, still not looking at her.
"And I know what you're going to do." He finally met her eyes, one hand rubbing a shoulder blade.
"You're going to stay here until he gets back. No-" she spoke louder when he tried to interrupt her- "there's no chance I'm letting you stay in that place alone for a week, especially after this. You know me better than that." He nodded silently while she padded around the room, fetching his usual blankets and pillows to build a bed in the bay window, "And when he gets back, my dad's going to go talk to him. It's not your job," she asserted, "to fix your parents problems. Even if you told your mom she should leave."
"You're right," he said when she offered him the pair of Josh's old sweats and an old T-shirt that he slept in when he'd forgotten to bring something.
"I'm always right," she reminded him with a smile on her face.
She expected him to go to the bathroom to change, then, but he stayed a second longer, blue eyes piercing hers.
"Riley, you can't tell anyone about this."
"They should know. They could help, especially Maya." She tried to convince him.
"I don't want them to know."
"Farkle-"
"Riley, I keep your secrets. I don't tell people about the panic attacks or about New Years or London. Because I love you. If you love me-" He stopped, but Riley knew how the rest of the sentence went. You won't tell. She'd never expected it to feel so much like a knife to the heart when it was directed at her, had always figured it was worse to be the one wielding it.
But she nodded and went down to bid Maya goodnight. Shawn was talking with her mom and dad, and Maya was sitting on the couch, staring into nothing. Riley sat down next to her, as physically close as possible.
"He didn't mean it."
"He send you to tell me that?"
"No. But it's true." Maya nodded once at that and turned to look at Riley.
"I'm not in love with Lucas."
"I know, peaches."
"And I know you're not cheating on him." Riley took Maya's hands in her own, smiling warmly.
"You're a good friend, Maya. I love that you were immediately ready to defend him. He deserves friends like you."
"Tell Farkle I love him? And that I forgive him?"
"You can tell him yourself when he apologizes to you. He's staying here for the week."
"It's that bad?" Maya asked, eyes wide. Riley shrugged. "Sorry our sleepover was ruined."
"I'll just be back tomorrow anyway," Maya reminded her.
After giving her parents the most barebones retelling of the story, she went up to her room. Farkle was curled up in the Bay Window seat. He would be too tall for it if he weren't sleeping with his knees pulled up close to his body. Protection against the world.
She watched him for a few moments longer, as if that would somehow change the reality of the situation.
When it didn't, she softly kissed his cheek (such a different situation than when she'd done it at Pride, hardly two weeks ago) and climbed into her own bed.
She woke up around three in the morning to heart-wrenching sobs, but there was nothing to say. Nothing to do but listen, so she lay with her back facing him and tried her best to share his pain.
Notes:
https://poets.org/poem/more-loving-one
https://www.amny.com/lifestyle/nyc-pride-parade-photos-2015-the-march-the-celebrations-1.10587980
https://www.nctq.org/dmsView/NYC_14-15_Calendar
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/reasons-women-leave-their-marriages-according-to-marriage-therapists_n_579fc7b9e4b0e2e15eb6ea31
https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/contemplating-divorce/201101/how-do-you-know-if-you-should-stay-or-go
https://2019-worldpride-stonewall50.nycpride.org/events/nyc-pride-march/
Google Maps locations for the interested:
Chapter 14: My Love For You is 98% Pure
Summary:
The rest of the summer passed in a dazzling haze of hot mornings and late nights. Riley spent as much time as possible with her friends- because she wasn’t in London, and she was feeling good, and the only way to appreciate that was to live her life to the fullest.
Notes:
I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to update this fic, once again. I know it's frustrating when an author updates sporadically, but I can promise you one thing: thing story will not be abandoned. This is my passion project, and even if it takes me ages, I will finish it.
All my love,
Harley
Chapter Text
“I hate this,” Farkle groaned, falling back on her bed. She smiled over at him, closing her book and putting it aside.
Her parents had agreed to Farkle staying with them for the rest of the summer because Farkle’s dad had extended his trip again. That was, of course, on the condition that he attend therapy once a week (Topanga’s idea- not unsurprising though). And he loathed it {she understood. She’d been fighting so hard to keep herself out of therapy}. Every week he came back complaining of how he never wanted to go back again {he did anyway. Farkle wasn’t going to risk Topanga being disappointed in him}.
She ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed and leaned into the touch. For a moment they just sat in comfortable silence, before Farkle pushed himself up to lie on his elbows.
“I just-” he paused, looking up to the ceiling, “I want this to be over.” She murmured a soft agreement.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, “that I can’t do more.”
“Riley, you’ve already done more than I could have asked for. You’re my best friend.”
She smiled and rolled over to lie on top of him, getting a laugh out of him, “What about Maya?” she asked cautiously.
“Yeah, her too,” he admitted, dragging a hand down over his face. “God, am I an awful person?”
“Of course not,” she denied vehemently, “You don’t have to tell her if you don’t want to.” She’d not-told people so many things that she didn’t exactly have a foot to stand on in this conversation.
“You think I should, though,” he prodded, and her eyes darted away guiltily. Yeah, she did. Maya had experience with this and would understand Farkle’s problems better than Riley ever could.
“It’s not my place to say,” she deferred. He chuckled.
“Yeah, but you’re right. I should tell her. I just- I don’t know if I can, you know?” He asked, but shook his head before she could find a response, “I’m going to apologize next time I see her, but-” he broke off suddenly, and Riley couldn’t blame him. There wasn’t exactly an etiquette book for these kinds of things.
“I wish I could do it for you,” she said, and his eyes brightened, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
“You could.”
“Farkle,” she said sceptically, and he rolled his eyes.
“I know, I know. It’s my experience, and you don’t want to speak for me.” She nuzzled his chest with her head and hummed her assent.
“I still wish-” he started, but he cut himself off- “Movie?”
She nodded against him.
They were Riley and Farkle and no matter what happened around them, they would always support and love each other.
Two days later, Riley woke up to a commotion in the kitchen. That wasn’t uncommon, per se, but this time it as definitely louder than Maya, Shawn and Katy. She sat up, and seeing that Farkle was still on the mattress they’d set up for him, and made her way downstairs (before she walked into the living room, she considered the fact that she was wearing pyjamas shorts and one of Lucas’s middle school baseball tees, before shrugging and following the scent of coffee).
She jumped down the last few steps and came upon a scene that made her smile. Her mom and her boyfriend were in the kitchen, talking quietly and cooking. Maya was chasing Auggie and Ava around the living room. Smackle and Zay were setting the kitchen table, and her dad, Uncle Shawn and Katy were drinking coffee on the sofa. It was warm and happy. It looked like family. It looked like home.
She pulled two mugs from the shelf- hers, which was yellow and had the Hufflepuff crest stamped across it, and Farkle’s, which was printed with a pair of kittens (an old one of hers, but she gave it to him every time he stayed the night). She wove her way through the kitchen, pausing between her mom and Lucas to press a kiss to each of their cheeks. She wandered over to the coffee pot, filling hers to the brim with milk and sugar, and doling out a regular amount of sugar into the cup with the kittens. She could feel Lucas’s eyes following her- his baseball shirt slipped off of one shoulder, and it felt like his eyes were burning into the open skin. She smiled softly to herself, proud, and didn’t acknowledge him as she walked up the stairs.
She walked into her room backwards, using her back to push open the door while her hands were occupied. Farkle moaned and stretched slightly, but looked like he was mostly still asleep. She put her mug down on the floor and then sat down on his mattress, trying to inject as much grace as possible into the process so that the contents of the mug didn’t spill (it didn’t work, but at least she could say that she tried).
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she whispered, pushing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He made a soft noise and burrowed further into the blankets.
“I brought coffee,” she coerced, which brought him far enough out of his cocoon to make a ‘gimme’ motion at her. She grinned and handed over the mug, and he drank deeply from the mug before even opening his eyes.
“You’re an angel,” he insisted, and she laughed brightly, flicking his forehead in reproach, “And you’re ignoring our guests.”
“Guests?” His brow creased slightly as he tried to remember if anyone had been invited for breakfast, “Is SAGA here?” (she’d invited the SAGA committee over for breakfast before when they’d organised a volunteer day at The NYC PRIDE Center) (was it weird that he didn’t think of their clique first?).
“Uh, no. The Hunters are, though,” the first time someone had called them ‘The Hunters’ in front of Maya, she’d burst into tears (happy tears, she promised). Now they did it as much as possible, trying to make it part of the group’s vocabulary.
“And Zay, Lucas and Smackle.” She hesitated, wondering if she should mention it, but- “Is it fine that she’s here?”
She wanted to leave it there, but she felt the words bubbling out of her before she could stop it, “Because I know she’s our friend, but if you need more time- you only broke up a month ago, it would be completely reasonable. We’ve been trying to give you space, inviting you to different stuff and all, but I also think you need to start spending time together again at some point. I won’t ask her to leave, but I can say that you’re not feeling up to coming downstairs, bring breakfast up. No one’s going to ask questions, they know that something went down- I didn’t tell them, but you did snap at Maya, and-” Farkle placed his hand over hers, and she slowed her word vomit.
“Riley. Smackle and I are good. We’ve been hanging out while you guys were on your double dates. We’re fine, I promise. No stress.”
“Oh,” it was weird, and she didn’t quite know what to do with the information. They’d been intentionally excluding the two of them in order to make them more comfortable, and all it led to was… them hanging out anyway? She stayed quiet, though. It wasn’t her business anyway.
Breakfast was… stilted. Not that Riley hadn’t expected that. Between Farkle and Smackle’s recent breakup, Zay and Maya’s recent pseudo-get together, and the sore-spots Farkle had hit when he’d yelled at Maya, their group felt out-of-sync, to say the least.
But they all sat cross-legged on the living-room floor, eating eggs and toast, watching a made-for-tv movie, and Riley was pretty certain that things would go back to being okay.
Lucas, Zay and Smackle let themselves out soon after breakfast was done (but not before Lucas had helped with the dishes- God, she loved his Southern hospitality- or given her a chaste kiss- tender, but aware of their company).
Then it was just the three of them- the original three; like it had been since childhood. At first, she wondered if she’d have to facilitate the conversation or something, but Farkle and Maya slipped away to her room pretty quickly. She watched them up the stairs and then returned her attention to the current conversation- something about snails’ teeth. She laughed at Shawn fiercely denying the possibility of such a thing, and let herself forget about Maya and Farkle for a minute {not quite- her mind was with them and only them}.
Shawn and Katy left about twenty minutes later, asking Riley to let Maya know to be home by ten {Maya hadn’t had a curfew before Shawn- Riley would have to ask her how she felt about it} and Riley found herself cautiously creeping up to her bedroom door. When there weren’t any raised voices, she slowly pushed it open.
She frowned at what she found. Maya and Farkle were sitting as far away from each other as possible (albeit still both on the bay window).
“Guys?” she asked softly, “what’s going on?”
“Ask him,” Maya snapped, looking out the window.
“I tried to apologize,” Farkle argued, “It's not my fault she won’t listen.”
“You won’t tell me anything,” Maya retorted, “I’m allowed to be upset.”
Riley clambered over Farkle’s mattress to sit between the two of them. She took Farkle’s hand in hers, pulling his face to look at her. Tears glistened in his eyes.
“I want to,” he told Riley, “but I just can’t.”
She nodded, and motioned her head towards Maya, eyebrows up. Asking for permission. He nodded.
“Farkle comes here when he fights with his parents,” she told Maya, taking her hand in her other hand, “Or when they fight with each other.”
“Oh,” Maya said softly, understanding. She turned to face them instead of the window, and her knees brushed up against Riley’s.
“Yeah, well, it shouldn’t be a problem anymore.” Farkle’s voice was thick with anger, and she could almost hear the way he was working his jaw to keep his temper under control. He held her hand tighter. “My mom left.”
“Like, for good, or just...?” Maya’s question trails off. There’s nothing to say.
“I don’t fucking know, Maya,” his voice cracked when he swore, and he was crying again. Maya stood up and made her way to his other side, hugging him tightly.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” he told her.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. It was unfair. You didn’t deserve it.”
“I didn’t,” Maya said. “But I understand anyway.” She put her head down on his shoulder, and he rested his on top. And the three of them sat there for a while, May and Farkle in an embrace, Riley holding Farkle’s hand. Letting them feel their pain, because what else could she do?
“Everything’s good now?” she eventually inquired softly, and they nodded in tandem, neither of them opening their eyes.
“I’m glad.” She leaned against Farkle and dropped her head onto his other shoulder.
“You guys are my best friends,” she told them, reaching across Farkle’s lap to link pinkie fingers with Maya, “and I love you both so much. And we’re going to fight a hundred more times, I’m sure,” she laughed softly, “but we’re not going to let it break us.”
“Never,” Maya promised, voice firm, “Thunder.”
“Lightning,” Riley replied.
“Hail?” Farkle joked, smiling broadly. And Riley laughed and pushed him, and they were good.
The rest of the summer passed in a dazzling haze of hot mornings and late nights. Riley spent as much time as possible with her friends- because she wasn’t in London, and she was feeling good, and the only way to appreciate that was to live her life to the fullest.
{So she went on as many dates as possible. She and Lucas liked to stay and watch Gossip Girl, and she made sure there was time for that, but they also went to watch Shakespeare at the park and when they had the money that went out for dinner and to watch new movies with Zay and Maya. They found time to sneak up to her room and if they could get the door closed, make out a bit. The feeling of his hands running over her back and ribs and playing at the edge of her bra sent shivers down her spine.
She took Shawn to the International Center of Photography Museum, spent evenings with her family watching bad TV and invited the Hunters over for dinner every Friday. She had sleepovers with Maya and afternoons where they’d set up camp in the bay window and just talk. She marvelled at the sun bouncing off of Maya’s hair and wondered how difficult it would be to take a picture of it (very). She followed Maya around Central Park and let her paint her surroundings while Riley read.
She went on walks with Farkle, and they visited museums and parks and bookstores together. They visited Brooklyn Museum and marvelled over the Coney Island photograph exhibit and Zanele Muholi: Isibonelo/Evidence. They liked walking the high line together, hanging out far away from everything they were going through. But when they were alone, she also felt safe talking about how scared she was, about her panic attacks and the pressure she felt. In turn, he could talk about his parents and his therapy and his breakup.
She volunteered with the SAGA committee. Once a week, they’d all head over to a shelter or an LGBTQ Youth Centre. She also spent time with them outside of volunteering. She binged Doctor Who with Heather and Ashley, and hung out at Topanga’s with Emma, Mila and Farkle. She, Noah, and Farkle went down to fresh produce markets on Sundays.
She picked up extra shifts at Topanga’s and used the money to take all six of them out. They tried to attend more slam poetry evenings, and even when the poets were awful they had fun. She hosted board game evenings and sometimes invited Josh. They swapped novels and playlists and tried to teach Farkle to play baseball and when he sucked they let him play with them anyway}.
On the last day of summer before school was set to begin, she, Farkle, Smackle, Maya, Lucas, and Zay found themselves picnicking in Bryant Park {well, picnicking was a loose term. She’d packed a blanket into her backpack and they’d bought some food from local food stalls}.
The six of them were lazing around, procrastinating going home and getting ready for the next day. It was peaceful. Zay and Maya were lying side-by-side at the edge of the blanket, and Riley and Farkle were sitting cross-legged, one of her knees brushing his. Lucas’s head was in her lap and she was stroking through his hair. Smackle’s head was on Lucas’s stomach and her feet were stretched out into Farkle’s lap.
“This is nice,” Lucas said, eyes still closed, smiling. She agreed, cheeks aching with the force of her smile. Farkle knocked one of her knees with his and tossed a piece of popcorn towards her. She tried to catch it in her mouth, but failed miserably, giggling wildly.
Farkle snickered at her, dropping another kernel into his own mouth, and then throwing one over to Lucas, who caught it perfectly. She rolled her eyes and bent down to kiss him softly.
“How can you possibly be so impressive?” she asked sarcastically. He reached up and tugged on a curl that had fallen out of her bun twisting it around his finger.
“Just my natural charm, baby,” he told her, and Farkle laughed. Then his eyes grew serious.
“I want to tell you all something,” Farkle said, and Riley’s eyes flickered over in surprise. May and Zay sat up and crawled over, and Smackle pushed herself up as well, slotting in between Zay and Farkle.
“Well- not you all so much as you three. Riley and Maya already know. It’s- uh, it’s about my parents, and why I’ve been staying at Riley’s this summer?” He was so tentative and her heart broke for him.
“Whenever you’re ready, Farkle,” Smackle encouraged him. Riley grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight.
“My mom- my mom left, at the beginning of the summer.” He didn’t start crying when he spoke about it anymore, but his voice was hollow and she hated it.
“And I’ve really been struggling with it, y’know,” he continued, “because my dad’s away so much, so now there’s no one there anymore, and I just- I told her to leave.” Riley could hear everyone else gasping, and she vaguely remembered that he hadn’t even told Maya that he’d been the one to encourage his mother to leave.
“It wasn’t healthy for her, being there, being part of our family,” he swallowed hard, “but I still- I still miss her, and I’m still angry that I wasn’t enough for her.”
He sits, breathing heavily, and there’s nothing really for Riley to say. She’s said everything already.
“That fucking sucks,” Lucas says, brow furrowed. Then he stands up and pulls Farkle up with him into a hug. The rest of them join in, slowly, and Smackle, who’s not always comfortable with so much contact, holds Farkle’s hand.
For a moment, the six of them stand in silence, peaceful and content. The sounds of the city seem far away from their little bubble.
“I want to stay like this forever,” Riley tells them, and Smackle tentatively reaches over to take Riley’s hand.
“We will,” she promises, and Riley believes her.
Chapter 15: When You Are Young, They Assume You Know Nothing
Summary:
She turned back to the freshmen. “Hey, sorry about that. I’m Riley.”
“Yeah, you said,” Flannel Shirt replied. “I’m Michael. Thanks for saving us, I guess.”
“It happened to us last year,” Farkle said before she could, “It sucks, and it’s a waste of time. The guys who did it to us meant well, but still. It’s just bullying that people excuse because it’s a right of passage or whatever. But, seriously, do you guys need help finding out where to go? I know there’s a freshman mixer before school starts, but it’s pretty easy to get confused at first.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Riley’s sophomore year dawned soft and bright, scattering shafts of sunlight across Farkle’s face. She stared at him from across the room, wondering what would come next. Because, no matter how much she wanted it, Farkle couldn’t exactly stay with her for the rest of their high school careers- her parents literally couldn’t afford a third child. Especially not a teenage boy, with a teenage boy’s appetite and a teenage boy’s need for space.
But, for a second, she could stare at him in the cold light of morning and imagine that everything was fine.
Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and she found him staring at her too.
“Good morning,” he whispered, voice scratchy with sleep. She burrowed deeper under the duvet and stared at him with one open eye.
“Is it?” She snarked, grumpy at having to be awake at six in the morning. Farkle chuckled at her softly {but nicely, in that way that only Farkle could do, where it didn’t sound like he was teasing but rather like he was appreciating her}.
“I’d rather be here than be where we were last year at this time.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?” She asked, pushing herself slightly out of bed and raising one eyebrow, “The new terrain to conquer? The new enemies to defeat?”
“It was fun, I guess,” he shrugged as he stood up and started padding around the room, collecting the various clothing items he’d need in order to take a shower. “But last year this time, we were about to fight. A lot of shit hadn’t gone down yet- fuck, we were still mid-triangle, you know?”
Riley did know- she knew very well how far they had all come in the last year and was very aware of how much had changed- more so than some of the others, in some cases.
“Luckily, none of that is going to be a problem this year,” she asserted with put-upon confidence that she’d come by through hours of practising.
“Sure, Riles,” Farkle said, and he was kind of placating her, but from his tone of voice she was pretty sure it was more like a giant, cosmic joke that only the two of them were in on- no more problems this year was laughably bullshit, and they both knew it.
“Well, whatever does go down, at least I know you’ll be on my side.” She shot a half-smile at him, and he briefly caught her hand as he walked past her, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“I’m always on your side,” he told her, “Even when I’m being an idiot.”
“When are you ever being an idiot?” Riley laughed, “You’re the smartest person ever.”
“First week of high school,” he reminded her, tapping her lightly on the nose. She rolled her eyes, pushing herself up and motioning for him to sit down next to her on the bed. He obliged.
“The first week of high school was a fluke,” she told him, “And if I’d needed your help, you would have been there.”
“That’s not the point,” he argued, shaking his head and turning away so that he didn’t have to look at her. “I let you down.”
“I’ve let you down too,” she reminded him, squeezing his hand.
“No you haven’t,” he denied.
“We don’t lie to each other, Farkle. We lie to everyone else. I know I’ve let you down. After London, after New Years. Not… not telling anyone that I have a panic disorder.”
He snapped around sharply to look at her.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he promised her fiercely. “I don’t expect anything from you, Riley.”
“I know,” she assured him, and she really did. “That doesn’t mean that I couldn’t have handled those things better. We’re not talking about this anymore,” she rushed to continue before he could try to break in again.
“We’ve both done some dumb stuff in the past, okay, but it’s you and me. We’re a team, Farkle. We’ve got each other’s backs, no matter what. And we’re probably better people because of all of it.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, eyes soft when they met hers, “We’re a team. You and me, Riles.”
She smiled, cracking her lips and almost hurting her cheeks with the force of it, and she leaned in to press her forehead to his.
They sat there for a moment, breathing each other in, and something like molten lava built in the pit of her stomach. The feeling that built every time that she was about to kiss Farkle.
Maybe she would have kissed him.
Maybe everything would have been different.
But instead, her mom’s voice called out from the kitchen, wondering why there wasn’t a shower running yet, and they jumped apart, both of their chests heaving.
“You and me,” she confirmed to him, before grabbing a pair of socks and a hoodie and heading down to the kitchen.
The halls of Abigail Adams High School were the same as they’d been last year, but the students definitely weren’t. It was weird to think that some of her friends were completely done with high school- that some of them were in college now, like Josh (and, in the case of Noah and Nikki, with Josh).
There were also a whole bunch of freshmen filling up the corridors. Riley did her best to help them out, sending them off in the direction of their new classes, introducing herself, offering her number and help at any point, as she stapled up posters for the first SAGA meeting of the year.
It was kind of cute, she thought, as her sight caught on a bunch of freshmen clustered together- middle school friends, probably.
She nudged Farkle, who was pinning up a poster for Debate Club (he was secretary this year, and she was so proud of him).
“Check them out- they’re like, baby us.”
“Down to the confusing feelings,” Farkle agreed. “Flannel shirt is definitely crushing on Ginny Weasley.”
Riley followed his gaze to the two he was talking about- a girl with fiery hair who was excitedly stammering and stuttering her way through a conversation with a Latinx boy in a blue and red checkered shirt, who was smiling fondly down at her. Riley beamed at them and knocked Farkle’s shoulder, before turning around to continue sticking up posters.
“Good morning, Riley. Good morning, Farkle,” Smackle greeted from behind them. Riley jumped slightly, wondering how long she’d been there. Behind her, Riley could see Lucas and Zay greeting some of their teammates with bear hugs and friendly punches.
“Morning, Smackle,” she beamed, holding her hand up for a high five (Smackle wasn’t always comfortable with hugs, and Riley was learning how to balance that out with her need to cuddle everyone she knew).
“I see you are already preparing for your first SAGA meeting. Would you be opposed to me joining you again? I really enjoyed PrideFest this year, and I know you have several fewer members this year.” Riley grinned at her, heart light. Her friends were so, so good.
“Of course we want you there, Smackle. Everyone’s wel-” she was cut off by a shriek, and when she span around, Lucas has Maya over his shoulder. She finished sticking up her poster and grabbed Farkle’s hand, pulling him (and by extension Smackle) along with her.
“Hey, peaches!” She greeted, and Maya instructed Lucas to turn around so that they could speak {they’re being watched by most of the corridor, and half of Riley hates it, but most of her can’t be bothered to care because they’re all here and they’re gonna own this place}.
“Morning Riles,” Maya returned, pressing a kiss to her cheek {Riley doesn’t blush. She doesn’t. This is Maya and this is their normal level of affection and there’s no reason to be blushing}, “Ranger Rick here’s decided to give me a ride.” Riley couldn't help but burst into giggles, pushing the hair that’s fallen into Maya’s face into pigtails, tying them up with her own hair ties.
“Well, you know what they say,” Riley remarked absentmindedly, too focused on Maya’s hair and Flannel Shirt, who’s talking to Ginny Weasley and two guys she thinks are juniors, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”
An awkward silence fell over their group for a second, but Riley didn't notice it until she finished with Maya’s hair. But when she looked up, everyone was staring at her with wide eyes, and she had to go over what she just said-
Oh.
She could feel the blush staining her cheeks, word sticking on her lips.
“I- I didn’t-” The ridiculousness of the situation settled on her, and she couldn't help it- she burst into giggles. The entire situation was just too funny for her. The way every star had to align for this perfectly awkward moment to happen. And when she made eye contact with Maya, her best friend couldn't keep a straight face either, and they both collapsed into their laughter. Eventually, everyone else joined them, their laughter and excitement for the new year contagious.
When Riley could finally smother her giggles for long enough to breathe, Lucas had already needed to put Maya down for fear he would drop her, and he was leaning against the lockers holding his stomach, so it was easy for her to step between his legs and kiss him thoroughly in greeting. The rest of their group groaned around them, and she had to pull away for a second to laugh again.
“Good morning,” Lucas said, cheeks slightly pink, hands resting on her hips, and she rested her head against his and took deep several deep breaths before she was calm enough to answer him.
“Hey, babe,” she replied, pressing another quick kiss against his lips, and she hoped it conveyed how much she adored him.
“How was your evening?”
“You saw her yesterday, and then spoke on the phone until midnight! What could you possibly need to know?” Farkle asked, but he was smiling, so she didn't think he was too mad about it. She very intently Didn't Think about how he’d looked that morning, with his bedhead and soft eyes and his forehead pressed to hers.
“Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be ‘morrow,” Lucas responded, but it was really more to her than it was to Farkle, his breath warm on her lips. She was pretty sure Farkle was rolling his eyes, but she didn't even care.
“All right, you star-crossed lovers,” Maya interrupted the moment, stretching up on her toes to rest her chin on Riley’s shoulder, “We have homeroom with Mr Jackson, Riles, and that’s halfway across campus, and we need to be there in like, two minutes, so lets all giddy-up.” Riley grinned at her, linking their pinkies, and she was about to start telling Lucas everything she had done in the last seven hours (well, you know, roughly), when her eyes caught on the red-headed freshman girl and her friends again. And the juniors that were still hanging around. And the stairwell.
“Actually, you know what, guys, I’ll catch up. I just wanna put up one or two more posters.” She smiled reassuringly when Maya raised an eyebrow. “Am I ever late?”
“Consistently, but you mean well,” Maya quipped, and Riley pushed her best friend lightly, sending her towards Zay and Lucas.
Then she squared her shoulders, readying her courage. Even if the juniors were being perfectly amicable, she figures it’s better safe than sorry.
“You’ve got a hero complex a mile wide, you know,” Farkle spoke up dryly from behind her, and she wasn't even really surprised.
“Would you love me if I didn’t?” She asked, and he shook his head- not in answer to her question, but at her.
“You’d still be Riley. Of course I’d love you.” She smiled at him and took his hand, walking over to the group that- at this point- were the only other students in the hall. There were about five freshmen, and they looked up at her with trepidation as she approached.
“Hi guys! I’m Riley Matthews. You’re freshmen, right? Are you having trouble finding the right class?” She inserted herself into the conversation, efficiently cutting off the junior boy, who, she thought, might be on the varsity football team.
“Hey, man, get your own freshmen. We found these ones first.” His friend cut in defensively. He was only just taller than her, and she felt pretty safe standing up to him, even if he did have a buzzcut and an eyebrow piercing (which she thinks might be against dress code, but honestly, she’s not gonna be the one to enforce the stupid dress code). She raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, firstly, they’re people. You don’t, like, own them,” she started, and she could see the Football Player’s jaw working. “Also, you’re like the only people left in the hallway, so I just wanted to see if I could help.” She addressed the second part to the freshmen, who looked like they were trying to be as small as physically possible.
“I’m Farkle Minkus,” Farkle continued before the juniors could get a word in, “We’re sophomores, but we spend way too much time here. Do you guys need to find your homeroom?”
Flannel Shirt looked like he was about to answer when Buzzcut spoke again (she really needed to find out everyone’s names)- “Hey, seriously, fuck off. They’re freshmen, man, they gotta get hazed. Chill out and take your girlfriend with you.” Riley had to try really, really hard to not roll her eyes.
“Hazing is a terrible tradition. It’s literally just bullying with a different name. Seriously, this isn’t worth it.” She hoped that that would be the end of it, but when she asked- for the third time- where the freshmen needed to go, Buzzcut stepped between them.
“Hey, bitch, we said fuck off. You don’t want to get into this with us, okay?”
And she didn’t, not really. She didn’t want to ‘get into’ anything with anyone. But she also wasn’t going to stand by when these guys harassed a bunch of new kids because they thought they had some kind of ‘seniority’ over them. She knew exactly how that felt.
“Hey man, her dad’s class is just over there,” Farkle gestured with a jerk of his head, “we don’t really wanna bring him into this. We’re all already late for class.” She squeezed his hand in a silent thanks because if she’d had to say it, it would have been a lot less refined. Especially after Buzzcut called her a bitch.
“You’re gonna fuckin snitch?” Buzzcut sneered, and Riley was already five minutes late to her first class and really didn't have the patience for this.
“Not if you leave these kids alone,” she said, even if it wasn't true. She would tell her dad that night, because it didn't help that these guys just went and found some other kids to bully when she wasn't there.
“Hey, man, it’s not worth it,” Football Player grabbed his friend’s arm, pulling on it lightly. “She’s legit the History teacher’s daughter. She runs that gay club, remember?” Something sparked in Buzzcut’s eyes.
“Right. So she’s a bitch and a dyke.” He rolled his eyes, as if that suddenly made her weaker. “Whatever. There’s other freshmen.” They pushed past her, shoulder-checking her as they went. She stood her ground.
“You shouldn’t call people dykes,” she called out when they were almost at the end of the hall, mostly because she couldn't let it go unsaid.
She turned back to the freshmen. “Hey, sorry about that. I’m Riley.”
“Yeah, you said,” Flannel Shirt replied. “I’m Michael. Thanks for saving us, I guess.”
“It happened to us last year,” Farkle said before she could, “It sucks, and it’s a waste of time. The guys who did it to us meant well, but still. It’s just bullying that people excuse because it’s a right of passage or whatever. But, seriously, do you guys need help finding out where to go? I know there’s a freshman mixer before school starts, but it’s pretty easy to get confused at first.”
“That would be kind of helpful, actually?” one of the other kids in the group answered- they were really short, and skinner than Farkle, and dark-skinned, “We have Mr Matthews? For homeroom?” Riley wasn't sure if they were really confused, or if all their sentences just sounded like questions, but she took it in her stride.
“Oh, his class is right there!” She spun around, ushering the gaggle of freshmen to her dad’s class. When she got there, of course, he was standing at the door, arms crossed over his chest.
“Okay, so I know this looks bad-” Riley started explaining nervously, “but-”
“We’ll talk about it later,” her dad said, and her heart doubled its pace. “Thanks for delivering them. You guys are supposed to be here, right?” He turns to the freshmen. “Michael Delgado, August Healy- you guys went to John Quincy Adams, right?- and uh,” he paused, looking around for his class list. When he couldn't find it, he shrugged a little, and said, “the rest of you?”
The kids looked between themselves for a second, before agreeing in unison. Riley and Farkle watched as they walk into the classroom, before exchanging wide-eyed looks and beginning the sprint to their own homeroom.
Riley hoped that that would be the end of it.
It wasn't.
Honestly, she barely noticed it at first. Then she saw that a couple of the SAGA posters had been vandalized with… well, exactly the kinds of things you’d expect queer posters to be vandalized with. She nodded in resignation when she saw them and spent her lunch period printing out and putting up replacements with Smackle.
When she had World History, she slipped her dad a note about what happened before school, mostly because she's been feeling nearly sick to her stomach with ‘we’ll talk about it later’ clamouring around in her head, wondering if she’ll be punished for being late, wondering if she’ll have a chance to explain.
After the final bell, she walked Farkle to the school psychiatrist’s office. He was officially “moving” back home, so her mom couldn't force him to go to therapy anymore, but apparently her dad had asked Dr Anderson to call Farkle to her office. As she sat on the tiny wooden bench that was fixed to the wall outside the office, she saw her dad walking out of the office with the freshmen she’d saved. She gave them a half-smile and lifted her hand in a slight wave, but they were all hopped up on the energy of their first day of high school, and she didn't think that they even noticed her.
Riley lost track of time for a bit, letting her head rest against the wall and playing her music above the recommended level, and she jumped slightly when Farkle touched her shoulder, alerting her to his presence.
“I’ve been given a clean bill of health,” he joked, pulling one of her earbuds out. She grinned at him.
“Hey, did those guys from earlier bother you?” She frowned in confusion.
“You mean Buzzcut and Football Player?” He chuckled slightly, chewing the inside of his cheek like he did when he was worried about something. He made a vague noise of agreement, pushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
“No. I haven’t seen them since this morning. “
His brow furrowed for a second. “I thought I heard them outside a couple of minutes ago, but maybe it was nothing.”
“They might have been here. I saw my dad leave with the freshmen earlier,” she informed him, “but if they were, they didn’t come near me. I’m fine.”
His face cleared, and he grinned brightly at her.
“Topanaga’s?” he offered, and she couldn't help but press a soft kiss to his cheekbone. “Smackle’s already ordered our drinks.”
The next day, a post she was tagged in on Abigail Adams High School social network was shared over a hundred times. The post in question was a slightly blurry picture of her, sitting outside the school psychiatrist’s office.
@allenellings: @rileymatthews not only a snitch, but fucking psycho as well.
“It’s not fair,” Farkle argued passionately with the computer screen. They had already asked the school administration to remove the post, but it would take time, and Riley couldn’t handle thinking about the post being up for any longer.
Farkle had worked some kind of magic, getting both of them excused from their first class of the day. Instead, they were in the school’s computer lab, using a computer so slow Farkle looked like he might burst into tears from the frustration, trying to hack into Alan Ellings’ high school social media account. Well, Farkle’s trying to hack the account. Riley is perched on the desk the computer is set on, legs crossed at the knees, trying to follow what he’s doing.
“It’s really fine-” Riley went to reassure him, but he interrupted her.
“No it’s fucking not, Riley. You were helping those freshmen. You were waiting for me. It’s fucking bullshit, and you know it.”
She wasn't sure what to say, because… well, she could have been waiting for her own appointment, and they both knew it. So she said nothing. Instead, she lightly knocked Farkle’s elbow with her knee in a comforting gesture.
“There are worse things for people to think. One in five children between the ages of 13 and 18 have been diagnosed with a seriously debilitating mental disorder.” She was parroting one of the NIMH web pages, and she was pretty sure that Farkle knew that, based on the sceptical way he quirked an eyebrow at her. She didn't meet his eyes, and eventually, he turned back to the computer, where a Reset Your Password page was open.
*
Even after they removed the post, there were people staring at her all day. Maya tried her best to take her mind off it, and she was pretty sure Zay and Lucas were warding off anyone who tried to approach her, but it was still a trial to get through the school day, and she spent the day longing for it to be over.
When she’s finally safe in the Art Theory classroom, Smackle gathered her into a bone-crushing hug, and Riley wanted to start crying again.
Ashley, Emma, Mila, Heather and Chai all returned (Emma and Mila had apparently broken up over the summer, and although the air is slightly awkward between the two of them, they both promised her that they’d never leave SAGA because of that). There weren't any new members, though, and Riley tried to not let herself be disappointed. There’s a rumour going around that you’re ‘psycho’, she reminded herself, and people tend to stay away from ‘psychos’.
Still, she went around the loose circle they were sitting in (if it could even be called that. Chai was sitting on a desk that’s been pushed to the wall, and Heather was all but collapsed in Ashley’s lap) making them all do the icebreaker, because she was a firm believer in starting as you intended to continue.
She was about to set them on the topic of LGBTQ+ representation in media, which was always bound to stir up debate, when there was a quiet cough from the doorway.
It was the tiny freshman from the day before. Upon having had more than a second to look at them, Riley is pretty sure they’re Black. Their afro was pulled back by a brightly-coloured bandana, and they were wearing a red sundress. “Uh, hey. Is this the GSA?”
Riley would swear she was vibrating out of her skin in excitement. “Yeah, the SAGA committee- Sexuality and Gender Acceptance-” she clarified when the kid looked confused; “but it’s a GSA. Except GSA is kind of restrictive.”
She gestured for Farkle to pull up another chair, and he did so with a put-upon air of annoyance. “We normally do icebreakers,” he told their newest member, “Name, pronouns, how you identify if you want to reveal that, but you don’t have to, and then some piece of trivia that Riley comes up with- today it’s your favourite book. So, like, I’m Farkle, I use he/him pronouns, and my favourite book is probably Stephen King’s IT.” That had surprised Riley, the first time he’d told her, but Farkle and Maya had a love for horror stories that she would never understand.
Riley chimed in with her own answers- she/her, bisexual, the Lunar Chronicles series.
The freshman brightened up at that, and Riley was pretty sure she had at least found them some common ground.
“Uh, my name is Maggie Graves,” they started, fidgeting with their nails, not meeting anyone’s eyes, “I use different pronouns on different days- today’s a Maggie day, so I’m using she/her pronouns. When I’m using he or they pronouns, my friends normally just call me Graves."
“My favourite book is this old paperback I found in a second-hand bookstore- it’s called Tangerine, and it’s about this kid, Paul, who’s legally blind but he’s super perceptive and he has to change high schools after a sinkhole-” she cut herself off, staring down at her hands again. “Anyway, it’s a pretty cool book.”
But the SAGA committee wasn't the types to let that slide, and Smackle quickly started asking Maggie questions- she didn't seem to know the answer to most of them, cause Smackle was asking about release dates and publishers, but Riley could see her relaxing as she got more involved. And Riley relaxed too.
Because right now, she was with her friends. The Hunters were coming over for dinner on Friday, and she and Lucas had a date planned for Saturday morning. The committee she had started, to put some good back into the world, was going strong.
But things were by no means fixed- the whole school had seen Allen Ellings’ post, because even though they took it down, she knew screenshots of it existed. And the post hit too close to home for her to be comfortable with it being a rumour that got spread around for a while before never entirely disappearing.
Notes:
To everyone who got the notification for this chapter and went "holy shit I forgot I was even following that story", my bad. The writer's block was through the roof, and in my defence, I think I wrote like 3 Descendants fics while this lay around gathering dust.
This being said, ya'll owe this chapter to Dazzlefae2002, shadowylighting, and nearlycurtains, who all left comments on this work in quick enough succession that I actually remembered to write out the half-plot that's been floating around in my head for months.
Hope everyone is staying safe, washing their hands, and educating themselves on the systemic racism our institutions are built on (this is an amazing cache of resources, by the way).
Love,
Harley
Chapter 16: Can’t Risk Falling Off Your Throne
Summary:
She was already late to class- she'd been most of the way there before realizing that she'd left her water bottle in Chemistry, and had to all but sprint back to retrieve it. Now she was going downstairs two at a time, hoping to make it to class before the late bell rang. The stairwell was overflowing with other students also trying to make their way to class before the bell rang, which was probably why she didn't notice Allen Ellings at first.
But a second later, she was well aware of his presence when her foot caught on the one he'd stuck out and she tripped head over heels.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
WARNING: MOST OF THIS CHAPTER DESCRIBES RILEY HAVING A SERIOUS PANIC ATTACK. AS IN, THE PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCES SHE'S GOING THROUGH. IF THIS MAY TRIGGER YOU, STAY SAFE AND READ THE SUMMARY AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER INSTEAD.
By the second Friday of the new school year, Riley was ready to hit someone. Or maybe cry. The rumours had evolved, becoming more and more specific, and more and more outlandish. Someone in the halls asked her if Aaron Ellings had posted the picture because she broke up with him for Lucas. People who normally greeted her in the halls turned away instead. The label of “snitch” clung to her like sweat. It became the only thing about her that mattered.
Allen Elling’s post didn’t even matter. As it turned out, no one cared if she was seeing the school counsellor. What mattered was that she was a snitch and needed to be made an example of. So she was tripped up in the hallways, and the juniors left comments on her AASN page, ridiculing her “childish” likes and warning other students away from her. She tried her best to keep it quiet {she only told Farkle because Farkle would understand, he'd been there before, he knew what it was like} but, eventually, she fell off the precariously-balanced throne that her friends and family had constructed for her.
From the moment she woke, she could feel her worries just under her skin. It was like she was standing on the thinnest piece of ice, and if she even breathed, the ice would shatter and send her crashing into the frozen water below. So she stayed quiet because it was the surest way to keep the tears out of her eyes and the tremor out of her voice. She stayed quiet and swallowed down every fear, storing her pain somewhere behind her heart.
She watched as if from thousands of miles away as she drifted through the day, letting organic chemistry and the civil war blow by her with the same disinterest. She pressed perfunctory kisses to Lucas's lips and let Maya intertwine their fingers without thinking about what it meant.
And that was before everything went to Hell.
She was already late to class- she'd been most of the way there before realizing that she'd left her water bottle in Chemistry, and had to all but sprint back to retrieve it. Now she was going downstairs two at a time, hoping to make it to class before the late bell rang. The stairwell was overflowing with other students also trying to make their way to class before the bell rang, which was probably why she didn't notice Allen Ellings at first.
But a second later, she was well aware of his presence when her foot caught on the one he'd stuck out and she tripped head over heels.
At first, it was just a feeling of weightlessness. But almost as soon as she'd been confused about what was happening, she'd figured it out as well. It was as if she was seeing the entire situation through someone else's eyes- his outstretched foot, her hand spread out in front of her as if she could catch herself, she students who'd been in front of her clearing a path so that she didn't cause a domino effect.
And before she could make up her mind over what to do about it, it was over. She was sprawled across the floor on the opposite end of the hall, her knees likely bruised and her books scattered around her.
She tried to assess her situation but found that she could barely look around. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the ground in front of her, turned pointedly down. She was fairly certain that there was a senior offering her a hand up, but she couldn't take it.
A thousand scenarios ran through her head- she could get up, shake it off, and continue on to class as if nothing had happened. Not give him the satisfaction. She could stand up for herself- ask him what the fuck gave him the right. She could turn to the teacher who'd just stepped out of her classroom and was watching the scene with an air of confusion.
She didn't do any of that.
Her breath was coming out jagged- three breaths in and three breaths out in the time she'd normally breathe once. A voice in the back of her head told her that she was letting her panic run away from her- that she should calm her breathing before it overwhelmed her entirely. It was the same voice telling her to stand up, to not let him see he was affecting her.
But he was affecting her. Her breathing was coming faster and faster, and she couldn't get her legs working, couldn't send the messages that would say stand up, walk away, take this person's hand, go ask Mrs Murray for help.
She felt the tears start to roll down her cheeks, and could hear the soft whine that was coming with her short breaths now, but it was all so distant. She couldn't control it if she tried.
Her fingernails dug into the nearest flesh, which turned out to be her thigh. She'd worn a skirt today, as well. As if it wasn't humiliating enough being tripped down the stairs alone.
She was blinking fast, too, trying to keep the tears at bay, but she only seemed to be sending them down her cheeks faster. Someone called out for help.
"Breathe, Riley, breathe." They said, and she tried to follow their instructions, but her breath was going too fast for even her to catch up with it now. In the next seconds, she felt herself being scooped up and cradled between someone's arms.
Someone's arms- Farkle's arms, she thought. Probably.
"Riley, I need you to stop struggling. I can't get you to the nurse like this. Please, I'm just trying to help."
Something in those words, in the tone or the voice, struck the correct cord in her brain. She still wasn't moving by her own will- she hadn't realised she'd been struggling against the arm when they'd picked her up, even- but at least now she wasn't moving at all.
There were people looking at them- looking at her. She knew this with greater clarity than she knew just about anything else.
There was nothing she could do about it, though, because it turned out that Allen Ellings was right- she was a snitch, and she was a fucking psycho.
She could feel his breath against her hair, and she thought that someone else had stopped them, was trying to take over. She curled tighter, and Farkle snapped something she couldn’t understand above her head.
Someone's arms were reaching out to touch her, and the switch in her brain flicked again. She was crying again, the whine high pitched in her throat as she tried to communicate the lack of air in her lungs, the ache deep inside her skull.
What felt like seconds later, but couldn’t be, she was being set down upon a mattress- the kind they have in school sick rooms and infirmaries, small and stiff with sheets that had been folded down to as to be all but immovable.
The arms- Farkle's arms- tried to retract, when they were certain that she was stable on the bed, and she blindly grabbed out for him again. Because Farkle was safe, he knew what was happening, and he'd know how to fix it.
There was more murmuring, and then his long, thin fingers wove their way through hers. She squeezed tight, then, and was glad to find her muscles responding to her instructions.
Her breathing was still fast, though.
"Ms Matthews, can you try to match my breathing, please?" Another voice managed to make its way through the fog- though, she should be able to hear things through the fog, shouldn't she? Her sight should be the problem. But she could see just fine, and it was the nurse's garbled instructions that made no sense-
"Riley, you have to breathe," Farkle told her, voice firm, "or you'll pass out. Come on now, follow me."
He held their intertwined hands up to his chest, being sure to press hers against his heart, and started a slow breathing pace.
In, two, three four.
Hold, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
In, two, three four.
Hold, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
Riley swallowed some of her tears back down, and her throat felt thicker than before. But she managed to copy Farkle's timing, though her breaths were still shakier than his.
She suddenly became aware that her eyes had been open during the entire event. It felt wrong- it still felt wrong, she thought, realising that she didn't know where to look, now. Not at Farkle, who would just be understanding and kind and soft and sorry in a way she wasn't ready for. Not at the nurse, who was trying to quietly coach Farkle on what he should be doing with a familiar look of pity in his eyes. Not at the white walls of the nurse's room, too stark and cold and too much of a reminder of what was happening and too likely to send her spiralling back down.
Not at her father, who was standing just inside the door of the nurse's office, looking terrified as he watched his daughter crumble.
So she screwed them shut, as tight as she could, and squeezed Farkle's hand again, gratified when he squeezed back.
The barest traces of a smile found themselves at the corners of her lips- you're a liar. You're a fake. How can you cause so much fucking drama in the middle of the school and then calm down when you're alone. You're the fucking attention-seeking stereotype everyone's always joking about.
The voice was cold and spiteful, and yet also smug; like it couldn't wait to say I told you so.
She bit down hard on her inner cheek, trying not to let her breathing pick up speed again, but it wasn't quite working and Farkle was going to be angry and her dad would never forgive her and-
"Come back to me, Riles," Farkle whispered softly, pressing her hand more firmly against his chest.
In, two, three, four.
Hold, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
The inner commentary was wrong, she remembered, because this was Farkle.
This was Farkle, and even when they fought or got mad at each other, they were still a team. They'd promised, and beyond that, it was one of those truisms. A fundamental law of the universe, or something. They were a team, and she wasn't faking it, she knew that. It didn't matter what anyone else thought {well, she could say that as much as she wanted, but that didn't make it true. She cared about what her family thought, and what her boyfriend and best friends thought}.
She sucked in a deep breath, out of time with Farkle's breathing pattern, but somehow much more calming, because it was a choice that she'd made, to take that breath, which meant that she was back in control of her body.
She exhaled, long and low, and then did it twice more before she felt prepared enough to open her eyes again. She looked to Farkle first- obviously she did, of course she did. She would always look to him first.
Her mouth picked up into a half-smile again, and this time, she didn't berate herself. Recovery is good, she chanted internally. The goal is to recover.
Farkle was watching her solemnly, and she was pretty sure that his eyes were shinier than usual, that his lip was quivering just slightly {you're best friends. He cares about you. People care about you}. But he still smiled back at her, even when his brows were still creased with worry.
He raised his other hand- the one that wasn't holding hers like it was a lifeline {for both of them}- to her cheek, skimming his fingers across the skin there, silently asking her to let go of the flesh that was still clenched between her teeth.
She did so silently, letting her tongue run over the indents her teeth had left- she hadn't caused bleeding, but the skin was raw raised, and she'd have to be careful over the next couple of days that she didn't bite on it unthinkingly and actually start bleeding.
The nurse was whispering to her father, but she couldn't be bothered to try and hear what they were saying, not when Farkle's hand was still on her cheek and her hand was still against his heart and their eyes were still met.
Her breathing was slow, now, slower than her regular breathing even, and Farkle was matching his breathing to the rise and fall of her chest.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. He blinked a couple of times, and let his hand drop from her cheek, falling to take her other hand, which was still in her lap.
"Never be sorry for this," Farkle told her, and he was whispering too, but his voice was fierce and for the first time, she could hear anger in his voice. "That- he- the school should have fucking dealt with him before something like this happened."
"None of this is your fault. None of it," he emphasized when she opened her mouth. She smiled warmly.
"I wasn't going to disagree," she informed him softly. "I was going to say thank you."
He didn't say anything to that, just watched her with those sharp eyes- like she was an equation he hadn't cracked yet, an experiment that had yielded unexpected results.
"We're on the same side," he said simply, and that was enough. He didn't need to say anything else. They were perfectly on the same page.
The nurse coughed lightly from somewhere behind her. Farkle's eyes slipped past her to look at him.
"Thank you," Farkle said to him, and he grinned slightly.
"This is my job, man," he said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "But you were probably more helpful this time than I was. Don't tell anyone I said that."
They both shook their heads lightly. Farkle had only been more useful because it was them- Riley and Farkle. They exchanged a small smile.
"Right, Miss Matthews, I am going to have to ask you a couple of questions. Firstly, your father said that you fell down the stairs, is that right?"
Riley's eyes flickered around the room- to the roof, to Farkle, back to the nurse, to anywhere but her father. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess."
Her voice was softer than usual, her vocal cords still thick with tears. "Sorry, could I get a glass of water or something?"
Farkle silently handed her her water bottle- the thing that had started this whole mess in the first place. She silently unscrewed the cap and tilted her head back, taking several deep sips. Eventually, though, she ran out of water and set the bottle down next to her, wiping at her mouth with her hand.
He reached out for her hand again, and she took it gratefully.
"Right, so, first. I just want to make sure that you didn't injure anything- you're not feeling any pain in your joints- nothing feels broken or sprained?"
Riley took stock for a second before firmly shaking her head. Her hips where she'd landed would likely be bruised, and she'd left small crescent-shaped indents on her inner thighs, but nothing felt wrong, per se.
"Okay, okay, that's good. Not even when I press like this?" He palpated lightly along her knees, ankles and wrists. She shook her head again.
"Okay, that's good. Just have to be sure, though. It'll really damage your joints if they're injured and you don't take careful measures to not out further strain on them. Now, these next questions-" he hesitated- "I think you'd probably prefer answering them alone? Your dad and boyfriend can wait outside."
"Oh, she's not- we're not-" Farkle stuttered, dropping her hand like it hand burned him. She was fairly certain her own cheeks were bright red, even though she couldn't help but smile {it was kind of funny, okay}.
"Farkle's my best friend," she told the nurse, who nodded understandingly. "Right, well, still. It would probably be best if you guys waited outside." He spoke to Farkle and her dad directly this time. She nodded at Farkle, who pressed a soft kiss to her temple and left without saying anything.
Her dad lingered, though.
"Dad, I'll be fine," she reassured, even though her smile still felt brittle, "It's cool." Her dad stood for a second longer, evaluating the situation, before nodding once and leaving, closing the door behind him. She could just see the top of his head through the office window as he sat down next to Farkle.
"Okay, Miss Matthews. Are you aware that you have just experienced a panic attack?" She nodded, a sharp jerk of her head. The nurse stared at her for a second, before marking something down on a clipboard that he picked up.
"Have you experienced panic attacks before?" He asked, and she couldn't help but let her eyes dart to where her father was sitting.
"Miss Matthews, unless you are directly causing harm to yourself or others, I will not tell your parents what we speak about in this room." He correctly guessed her fears.
"Doctor-patient confidentiality extends to school nurses as well?" She joked dryly.
"Something like that."
She let her gaze focus on something just beyond her vision. "Yeah, I have. Had panic attacks before, I mean. But they've never been as bad as this one-" she felt the need to clarify.
"Thank you. For how long, would you say?"
"Uh- I don't- I'll have to think back. Only in the last year, I'm pretty sure. I wasn't having them in middle school. But that's- I don't know the day specifically. Sorry."
"Don't stress yourself about it. I'm just trying to see the bigger picture here," he reassured her. There was a second of silence as he read something on his clipboard, and then he looked up, making eye contact with her.
"Miss Matthews, it's really important that you answer this question honestly. I want to help you, but I can only do that if you're willing to be helped. Do you understand what I'm saying?" She nodded quickly in response, bobbing her head up and down several times.
"Riley, have you ever self-harmed, or thought about self-harm?"
It was a question she'd known was coming. It was part of the reason she'd been trying to put this- this whole 'people finding out' thing- off for so long.
"No," she said, and she meant it.
"I noticed that you dig your fingernails into your skin sometimes," he prompted, keeping his eyes on her face, even as hers flickered down to where her hands were clenched into tight fists.
"Yeah, but that's not like- I'm not thinking about that when I do it." She argued. "I'm not trying to hurt myself, it's just what I do with my hands."
"Have you ever done it hard enough to draw blood?" He asked, and she shook her head vigorously.
"It's not a coping mechanism or anything," she promised. "It's just a habit."
He nodded and wrote something more down. "Have you told anyone about the panic attacks?"
"Farkle knows," she told him. He raised a confused eyebrow. "The guy who was in here? Farkle?" She prompted, and his face lit up with understanding.
"He was there when it first started happening, though, so I guess I didn't have to tell him, cause he kind of always knew."
"But no one else?" The nurse prompted, and she shook her head again.
"I didn't need anyone else," she tried to explain. "Farkle and I always look out for each other." The nurse nodded along, but she was pretty sure he still didn't understand.
"And you've never considered seeing a professional about it?" He asked.
She sat silently, wondering how to answer his question.
"It's not as simple as all that," she tried.
"Can you make it simple?" The nurse asked, and she fell silent, thinking.
"No," she said finally. "I can't. There's too much- there are so many layers to this, so many things that I don't know how to explain, not to you." She didn't mean it cruelly, but it was true. He wasn't involved in this, he didn't know about her grades and her family and her friendships and relationship. Wouldn't be able to understand what the ski lodge had been like- it wasn't just teen drama, though it might have looked like it from the outside.
It had been a decision about what her life would be like.
{She wasn't sure she'd made the right decision}.
"Okay." he accepted. "Thank you for being honest with me." He paused, looking down at his clipboard, again.
"I do have to tell your dad that you had a panic attack. I won't tell him what we've talked about unless you want me to, but a panic attack is a health issue, and I do have to tell your parents if you have a health issue at school."
She opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it, and closed it again. But he caught her.
"Did you have a question?"
"Yes. Yes, I think I do." She took a steadying breath. "Can- can I tell him?"
The nurse examined her closely but gave nothing away. Eventually, he agreed- "if you'd feel more comfortable."
"I'm going to invite your dad back in now if that's cool with you?"
She nodded briefly, before hesitating- "Bring Farkle in as well."
"You sure?" He checked, and she nodded again, with much more certainty.
They walked in together, and the first thing she noticed was the tension in Farkle's shoulders. His jaw was clenched, too, and he wasn't looking at her dad. She swallowed heavily.
Her dad was chewing his nails, which meant he was really worried. Her mom had been trying to break him out of the habit for years {even though it was probably better than the pack of cigarettes she kept in her nightstand for particularly stressful days}.
Farkle went right back to where he'd been sitting before, in a stiff plastic chair that looked like it probably belonged to a set of garden furniture.
"Riley, what happened? I-" the nurse cut her dad off before he could say anything more.
"Cory, maybe you should let Riley speak first?" He prompted gently. Her dad deflated, bringing the hands whose nails he'd been biting up to rub between his eyebrows, likely trying to dissolve a stress headache. She got them too.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Um..." He trailed off, and she almost smiled, because this was so very much like her dad.
But, now that she could speak to him, she had no clue what she might say.
"I, um. That is-" she stuttered for several moments, before looking towards the nurse hopelessly. She wanted to be the one to tell her dad, but when she was faced with him, she found that she didn't have the words.
"Riley has just had a panic attack, Cory."
"Like when your mother told you about the opportunity in London?" Her dad asked, and, oh, yeah. She'd forgotten about that. The panic attacks sort of blended together in her mind, after a point when all the feeling were the same- so awful and overwhelming- and the reasons just kind of faded into the background. Still, she hummed in agreement.
"Yeah, pretty much exactly like that," she confirmed. "I've been having them for a while, now."
"This has happened before?" Her dad asked incredulously, and she winced.
"Um, yeah. Yes. Kind of."
"For how long?" Her dad didn't sound angry, but he sounded disappointed {he's disappointed in you, you're supposed to be better than this, you don't have a reason to feel like this}.
"Riley had her first panic attack on the 23rd of November, 2015," Farkle added quietly, and the nurse's eyes, as well as her dad's, flickered to him in surprise.
Farkle glanced down bashfully, knuckles going white from his grip on his knee.
"I was there," he tells them, still not meeting their eyes. She does it for him, defying either one of them to say something.
Her father, apparently, does not get the message.
"And you didn't tell us? Farkle, you lived at our house for most of the summer, and, what? You didn't think this was something we should know?" And Riley wants to defend him- he told her to tell them, but she wasn't ready, still isn't ready even though it's too late and it's happened now.
The silence in the nurse's room is thick. Her dad is disappointed in her and Farkle, and she's terrified of and disappointed in her dad, and ashamed that this has to be happening. She doesn't know how Farkle feels, because he won't look at her.
She blinks back fresh tears that are threatening to flow over, steeling her jaw. But she still says nothing, stuck in the awkward space between wanting to explain, not wanting to explain, and having no words to do it anyway.
"I mean, what should we do?" Her dad asks the nurse. "What's the next course of action here?"
"Well, that depends a lot on Riley. What she's ready for. I do think she should go see Grace- Dr Anderson," he corrected himself quickly, blushing slightly. "I'm not a mental health expert or anything. If she sees Dr Anderson, at least you can get a professional opinion."
He glances back at her and then continues speaking to her dad. "It depends on whether Riley is ready to get help."
She doesn't need help, she wants to say. She and Farkle have been managing just fine. This will all go away eventually.
Instead, she puts her hand over Farkles, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, trying to relax him, and lets herself zone out as her dad speaks about her, not to her.
They leave before the final bell rings. She doesn't want to see everyone else- not the random kids who'd been around in the hallway, whose faces and names she couldn't recall no matter how hard she tried, and not her friends, who she didn't tell about her problems even though they know they can come to her for help. She doesn't want to see the judgement on the faces of strangers, nor the disappointment on the faces of friends.
She doesn't want to see Lucas, her boyfriend, her significant other, the one she's supposed to turn to when she needs help but doesn't because she has Farkle.
Her dad walks them all to his car, Farkle carrying both their bags. Her dad had tried to send him back to class, but Farkle had finally met his gaze again, determination blazing in him.
"My dad won't care that I left early; Marzia will just respond to any email the school sends saying it was for a family thing. I'm coming with." And that was the end of that discussion {it was also a whole other issue- but this time, Riley couldn't escape her problems by trying to fix someone else's}.
They both sat in the backseat, her legs flung over his. No one spoke for the first couple of minutes.
"When'd you get strong enough to pick me up?" Riley broke the silence. Farkle shrugged.
"It's about the application of physics, mostly."
"I'm not exactly light," Riley countered.
"Riley, you're not heavy, either," he deflected. She rolled her eyes fondly and settled back against him.
"Thank you," she said, soft enough that her dad wouldn't be able to make out what she was saying.
"It was never a question, Riley," Farkle told her, and the response didn't quite fit what she said, but she knew what he meant.
"Thank you," she repeats herself, firmer. He wriggled one of his hands out from where it was trapped underneath her legs and pulled a few locks of hair separate from the rest of it. She grinned softly to herself, and let her eyes sink closed as he started a thin braid.
Her dad said nothing, not until they were just outside the apartment door.
"Your mother's home," he informed Riley, and her eyes widened.
"I- but- she-"
"We care about you more," her father told her, effectively silencing anything Riley might have said {what might she have said? I didn't think she'd care enough? Will she be mad that she had to take time out of her schedule for this?}
Farkle put his arm around her shoulders as her dad walked in, and they entered the apartment together.
Notes:
SUMMARY:
This chapter is set roughly a week after Chapter 15. In the beginning, she thinks about a couple of times she's been bullied recently- she's been cyberbullied and people keep tripping her in the corridors. The bulling is less a result of the implication that she has a mental health disorder than it is because of the label of a snitch. Cause, you know. Kids suck.Then the same kid who made the post in the previous chapter trips her down a staircase. She lands on the floor and is relatively unharmed, but she goes into shock and has a pretty bad panic attack. It gets so bad that she can't move, and eventually, Farkle has to carry her to the nurse's office, where he and the nurse help her out of her panic.
The nurse speaks tor her privately, asking about her history with panic attacks, and she answers him honestly. Eventually, he invites her dad in, and she asks Farkle to come back in as well, and they explain to Cory that she had a panic attack and that she's had several over the last year.
Farkle admits to having known about it the whole time, and Cory gets frustrated with him, saying that he lived with them all summer, and should have told him and Topanga.Riley, Cory and Farkle all leave early, and as they reach the apartment, Cory tells Riley that Topanga has left early. Riley is kind of surprised because she'd assumed that Topanga would be too busy for this. Farkle offers her support, and the chapter ends with them walking into the apartment together.
Okay, so, by some miracle, I have finally figured out the timeline for this entire fic up until this point, and it only took me like 20 minutes. You can see it below. But you should be aware of two things: Everyone is one year older (Lucas was born in 1999, Riley, Maya and Farkle were born in 2000). This is because half of my writing made literally no sense otherwise. The other thing is that in the now we're patriots 'verse, Obergefell v. Hodges was decided on the 19th of November 2015, instead of 26 June 2015.
On a more personal note, this chapter is a combination of a couple of things that have happened to me- I was actually once tripped down the stairs at school when I was thirteen. The guy who did it was an asshole, and luckily he left the school two years later. I wasn't hurt, and I actually just stood up and continued on to where I was going. I was forced to sit next to him in class because the teacher was labouring under the delusion that I could be a good influence, but that's a whole other story.
Point is, it kind of sucked, and I can tell you from personal experience that Riley's reaction was about right.
The rest of her reaction is basically a description of the worst panic attack I ever had. This is kind of the climax of the panic disorder arc, and it felt appropriate.
If any of you ever, ever feel like Riley, please speak to someone. Find yourself a Farkle, and then also find yourself a Dr Anderson. I haven't had a panic attack anywhere close to the one I described here in years, and it's because my therapist helped me learn how to cope with the kind of feelings I talk about in this chapter.
I love you all, I hope you're staying safe. Don't get complacent. Wear a mask, sanitize as much as you can, social distance when possible. Vote in your elections, whether you live in the US or not. Look after your mental health.
Love,
Harley
![[image: Han Solo 'I know']](https://media.tenor.com/images/b1e0bcd792ddb100b0d496bf5c27e544/tenor.gif){kind=link}
Chapter 17: I Feel That Ice is Slowly Melting
Summary:
“Then explain to me. Because you and Riley, no matter how much you'd like to think otherwise, are kids. My kids. And I don't understand why you wouldn't come and get help, not when Riley was going through- whatever she’s going through.”
“Riley asked me not to.” Maybe that was a weak excuse - it felt particularly weak when he’d just carried Riley through the hall, almost catatonic - but it was the only one that was true.
“That’s not good enough, Farkle. That’s my daughter, and I’m responsible for her health.”
Yeah, you fucking are. Farkle wanted to snap. So why was I the only one who saw that something was wrong.
But this wasn’t about him. This was about Riley, who he’d managed to carry to the nurse even when he’d thought his knees would buckle. Riley, who’d curled in closer to him when Lucas offered to take her.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The first thing her mother did, when she saw her, was hug her. Her mother was several inches shorter than her, but Riley felt completely enveloped, surrounded by warmth and comfort. For the first time that day, she felt completely safe.
She briefly pulled Farkle into a different position, so that she could bring her arms around her mother without letting go of his hand. Her dad pulled the both of them into a hug, so that her head was leaning on her mother's chest, and her mother's head was leaning on her father's chest.
For a second, she thought she felt Farkle try to pull away, but she held his hand tighter, and then her dad opened his arms to let Farkle nestle himself into the group hug.
Something in Riley's chest settled, and she didn't realize that she was crying again until she could feel the wetness staining her mother's shirt.
Her dad and Farkle detached, but her mother still held on tightly as she guided Riley down to sit on the sofa, and cradled her against her chest as she sobbed.
"Oh, my baby," her mom whispered. "My poor, sweet girl. I never wanted this for you." When Riley finally got up the courage to look up at her, Topanga Lawrence-Matthews had tears in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, mommy," she whispered brokenly, and her mother pulled her close again, tucking Riley's head under her chin.
"This isn't your fault, baby. You don't have anything to be sorry for." With a spare hand, she tugged the soft blanket that always lay over the back of the sofa over them, and Riley burrowed deeper into the warmth.
They sat like that for an indescribable measure of time, as Riley cried and her mother held her, rocking her softly and soothing her like one would a baby. Eventually, Riley's shuddering breaths evened out to something still shaky but no longer choked with tears, and she felt strong enough to push herself up slightly, to sit without the support of her mother. She pulled her feet up onto the couch as she did it, tucking the blanket in around her, leaving it somewhere between a cocoon and a straightjacket.
"How you feeling, baby?" Topanga asked her, brushing her thumb gently across Riley's hairline. She smiled weakly.
"Tired."
"Yeah, crying does that to you." She was watching her with soft, forgiving eyes. Riley couldn't meet her gaze, turning to search for Farkle instead.
She found him in the kitchen, boiling milk for hot cocoa. Their mugs already set out on the counter. Her eyes drifted back down and eventually lodged themselves somewhere to the left of her feet. For a minute, there was silence between the people in the apartment.
"I don't-" her throat was scratchy, and she cleared it a couple of times before trying again. "I don't know what to do next." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother smile.
"Next we talk."
So Riley did. She let it all come spooling out of her, the panic attacks and the worry about not making them proud.
"Because that's all I really want to do," she admitted, chancing a quick look up at her mother's expression.
Topanga was chewing at her lower lip, staring absent-mindedly at Farkle. But then she looked back at Riley.
"Baby girl, I'm already proud of you. And I'm always going to be proud of you. No matter what you do." She reached over and rested a hand on Riley's knee. "But that isn't the most important thing to me. I'm happy to be proud of you, but I'm much happier when you're happy."
Riley stayed quiet, eyes on her mother. Topanga took a deep breath in before continuing.
"Riley, your dad and I love you so much. You and Auggie are our entire world. I don't want anything to hurt you," her voice was thick with tears now, too, and Riley found herself looking away again {you're selfish you hurt your mother apologise apologize apologise}.
"I don't know what to do about this, baby. But we're gonna help you feel better." Her mother promised her, shaking the knee her hand was resting on softly.
Farkle appeared in her line of vision, then, juggling two mugs of hot chocolate. He set them down and went back for the other two.
When everyone had been situated with the correct drink, he sat down on the small pouffe that stood next to the tv, somehow managing to cross his legs underneath him even though he was 5’11 and definitely too big for the chair. Riley took a deep sip of her hot chocolate to hide her smile as she watched him try to make himself smaller.
"Thank you for looking after Riley, Farkle," her mom said, still choked up. Farkle met her gaze head on, back straight.
"There was never a question about that."
There was something in the way he said it- not quite a challenge, not necessarily, but maybe a judgement. It was odd, to have Farkle, whose parents were awful, look at her parents and find them to be not up to his standard.
Her parents just looked at him, though, before turning back towards Riley.
"What do you want to do about this?" Her dad asked, and it threw her. She'd never expected- she'd always assumed that, if they found out, they'd have a twelve-step programme, a solution set up, a million ideas and questions and lesson plans- she knew what her parents were like, after all. She'd sat through History lessons about the meaning of life and Topanga lessons about how to live life.
"I didn't think-" she cut herself off before she could unintentionally insult her parents. "I don't want to go on medication."
"We can't promise you that," her mother argued. "It's important that you're healthy. And if a qualified professional says that you should be on medication, I don't necessarily know that I'll disagree with them."
"Please." It felt weak, almost. It felt like begging. But for some reason, she'd drawn this line in her mind, and she wasn't quite ready to erase it.
"Riley, it's not fair for you to ask us that, and you know it." {And again, she felt awful, because it was true, she knew it was, and she was putting her parents through such stress and she couldn't handle it and what if they resented her for it?}
So instead, she fixed her eyes on the floor in front of her and said nothing {weak, weak, you're taking the weak way out}.
"What if we wait to see what Dr Anderson says first?" her dad put forward.
"We're not promising you that you won't have to take something, but we'll take your opinion into account before we make any decisions" It was the best she would get, so Riley jerked her head in what was probably agreement {what she wanted to do was scream- it's my body. it's my mind. it's my problem. leave me alone}.
She licked her lips and ran her tongue over the raw patch on the inside of her cheek. Her eyes traced over the pattern of the rug, counting each of the blue squares, and then each of the brown {21 and 27, respectively}.
The air was stilted, and it grew more awkward the longer the four of them went without saying anything. When she thought she couldn't take it anymore, fingers picking at her cuticles under the blanket, eyes trained on spots where no one could make eye contact with her, she eventually stood up.
"I think I'm gonna go lie down," she announced, staring at the antique clock her mother loved that hung on the wall in the kitchen.
She reached down to grab the hot chocolate the Farkle had bought, and then Farkle himself, letting him guide her up the three steps and down the hall to her bedroom. He pulled the door shut behind them {the rules around her door, and who was in her room, and when, would look weird to an outsider, but Riley had always understood them perfectly. Farkle and Maya had always been allowed in her bedroom, had always been allowed to have sleepovers with the door closed, and so for them, those rules didn't change, no matter how old they all got.
Maybe they would have changed if there hadn't been Lucas. But there was, and her parents trusted her- if she said she was in a committed relationship with Lucas, then she was in a committed relationship with Lucas. And so the rules for Lucas were slightly different.
No sleepovers without the others, for one thing. Which made sense, and beyond that, didn't disallow sleepovers at all, just required that they be chaperoned.
The other rule was that her parents had to be made aware when Lucas was there- he wasn't given the free license to slip in and out of the bay window like Maya and Farkle were.
She wondered if the rules would change if she told her parents that she'd kissed Farkle twice, now. Wondered if she'd changed, because her parents allowed Farkle in her room with her under the assumption that she was dating someone else, and they would never think that she'd cheat on someone, and she'd broken that trust and then hadn't told them}.
Still, she didn't move to open the door, and instead curled up in Farkle's lap in the bay window {like they'd been sitting in the car, her legs thrown over his, her body curled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder}. She wrapped both of her hands around her mug, and embraced the warmth of his right arm, thrown around her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she smiled peacefully.
Little darling, it's been a lonely, cold winter.
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear.
Here comes the sun, do do do do.
Here comes the sun, and I say.
It's all right.
His singing voice was lower than his speaking voice, and it wasn't phenomenal by any means {couldn't hold a candle to Maya's} but it was good enough for humming Beatles songs. The vibrations of his chest as he half-mumbled the words were soothing, an old comfort that she'd long since forgotten.
Sun, sun, sun, here he comes.
Sun, sun, sun, here he comes.
"You don't know the lyrics at all, do you?" She asked, not bothering to open her eyes, or even move from when she was firmly planted in his lap.
She could feel the way he shook his head, even as he jumped back to the second verse.
Little darling, the smile's returning to their faces.
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here.
She exhaled softly in something that wasn't quite a laugh, and would have tried to join him, but the warmth of the sun coming in through the bay window made her aware, once again, of the heaviness of her limbs, and the continuous motion of Farkle stroking her hair. She set her mostly-empty mug down between them, and she thought she might have heard Farkle put it somewhere out of their way, but by then she was already half asleep.
{Leaving Farkle to think about the tense discussion he’d had earlier;
Farkle sat outside the nurse's office, wringing his hands in his lap. He felt like he was near to rubbing his wrists raw, and his leg was bouncing so fast it was closer to a constant vibration than a bounce. He swallowed thickly, and resisted the urge to look back through the window and just check on her, just check quickly.
The aborted head turn ended with him making direct eye contact with Mr Matthews. For a seemingly-endless moment, they just stared at each other. Then.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Farkle blinked in surprise at the harsh tone in Mr Matthews voice. He titled his head to the side, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means we let you stay with us all summer, Farkle. We fought your dad on that, Topanga and I. He wanted you to stay with his secretary. And we insisted that you stay with us. And you accepted that, and then didn't tell us that Riley was having issues?"
Farkle shook his head.
"It's not like that at all-"
“Then explain to me. Because you and Riley, no matter how much you'd like to think otherwise, are kids. My kids. And I don't understand why you wouldn't come and get help, not when Riley was going through- whatever she’s going through.”
“Riley asked me not to.” Maybe that was a weak excuse - it felt particularly weak when he’d just carried Riley through the hall, almost catatonic - but it was the only one that was true.
“That’s not good enough, Farkle. That’s my daughter, and I’m responsible for her health.”
Yeah, you fucking are. Farkle wanted to snap. So why was I the only one who saw that something was wrong.
But this wasn’t about him. This was about Riley, who he’d managed to carry to the nurse even when he’d thought his knees would buckle. Riley, who’d curled in closer to him when Lucas offered to take her.
So instead he looked away, only to find himself staring at Lucas, Maya, Zay and Smackle, standing a way down the hall. He tried to swallow down the bile that crept up in his throat, tried to push down the anger that came with the thoughts of we’ve been handling this, we don’t need your help - even if it wasn’t true, even if he’d been begging Riley to tell someone else.
Mr Matthews followed his gaze, and his eyes softened when he saw them. It was easy to see why- there was no way the rest of them had known, not with the confusion pasted across their faces, the furrowed brows and hitched shoulders.
“Riley won’t want them here,” Farkle tells him, still watching the others. “She’s embarrassed by this- she didn’t even want you to know. It’ll overwhelm her.”
Mr Matthews was quiet, and when Farkle eventually managed to check on him, see if he’d heard, he was staring at him contemplatively. Farkle flexed his hands into fists and loosened them before he could bring himself to speak again.
“Mr Matthews, this is Riley’s business. But we both know she’s not going back to class for the rest of the day, and the rest of them-” he jerked his head slightly- “have to. So it’s for the best if you send them back to class before she has to come out.”
Mr Matthews let the silence stretch out, and just as Farkle was getting ready to go over himself and try to chase them away himself, he stood up.
“Our conversation isn’t over, yet. I’m disappointed in you, Farkle.” And fuck, that hurt, because Farkle was used to hearing it from his parents - just his dad now, really- but he’d never thought he’d hear it from Riley’s dad.
Minutes later, when Lucas, Maya, Zay and Smackle had been sent back to class (not without a considerable fight from the former two) and Nurse Grayson had called them back in, the words were still stinging}.
Riley woke hours later with a start when the window to her left slid up with a thump and Maya and Lucas crawled in.
For a second, no one moved. Riley and Maya stared at each other, Riley half on Farkle’s lap, Maya still on her hands and knees, feet out the window.
And then everything else didn’t matter, because they were clinging to each other like their lives depended on it, their bodies shaking with the force of their sobs. There was a part of Riley that felt guilty {look what you’ve put everyone through, this is cruel. You should have tried harder to keep this secret}, but most of her was just relieved {it’s over, it’s over, no more hiding, no more pretending, everyone knows and it’s fine}.
Eventually, Farkle’s arms came around both of them, and Lucas managed to squeeze through the gap Maya had left in the window and joined the hug, pulling Riley and Maya against his chest.
There was so much to talk about still, so many things that Riley couldn’t think about without starting to shake, but for a few minutes, she actually felt at peace.
Notes:
Listen, y'all, I am not a consistent woman. I'm doing my best. But I'm hella proud of these chapters going up in such quick succession.
I hope everyone's year is slowly going better. Happy birthday to Amy, who will never read this fic but inspires most of it. I hope all of you are wearing masks when you leave the house, that you're social distancing and washing your hands. Thank fuck for every American who helped vote 45 out of office. To the person who once commented on this fic that "You do know being so far left/liberal is just as bad as being pro-Trump..."- no it's not, fuck you.
This doesn't mean anyone gets to stop, though. We keep pushing for reform, across the world. If you're South African, I encourage you to go to every anti-Gender Based Violence protest that you can. If you're not, I encourage you to help the people in your community in whichever way you can.
Love,
Harley
Chapter 18: I Thought That Love Was A Kind Of Emptiness
Summary:
Riley had been attending weekly sessions with the psychologist since her {very public} breakdown. These appointments always started with the same question—“what do you want to talk about in this session?”—which inevitably left Riley flustered and casting about wildly for a topic of conversation.
Most of the time, she was left to recap the week, leaving Dr Anderson to act as a very reactive diary.
Especially because Riley had been—for the most part—fine since her aforementioned public breakdown, nearly a months ago now.
It had been uncomfortable at first, but most of the school had long since moved on to more interesting scandals {like how Sage had decided to raise the baby, and how Emma and Mila had been seen making out on the bleachers after cheerleading practise, and–
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
There were some things that Riley really liked about Dr Grace Anderson:
- She didn’t charge the Matthews a fortune per session, because she was the Abigail Adams school therapist and gave AAHS students a discount.
- Her office walls were a lovely shade of lavender.
- She seemed nice enough—Nurse Grayson clearly held her in high regard, after all.
Unfortunately, all of these factors were outweighed by one significant strike against her:
- Riley never knew what to say to her.
Riley had been attending weekly sessions with the psychologist since her {very public} breakdown. These appointments always started with the same question—“what do you want to talk about in this session?”—which inevitably left Riley flustered and casting about wildly for a topic of conversation.
Most of the time, she was left to recap the week, leaving Dr Anderson to act as a very reactive diary.
Especially because Riley had been—for the most part—fine since her aforementioned public breakdown, nearly a months ago now.
It had been uncomfortable at first, but most of the school had long since moved on to more interesting scandals {like how Sage had decided to raise the baby, and how Emma and Mila had been seen making out on the bleachers after cheerleading practise, and–
“Riley?” Her eyes snapped over to Dr Anderson, who was watching her with the patient smile of someone practised at distracting people from their runaway thoughts.
“Uh, yeah, sorry. I got a little bit spacey there. What did you say, again?”
“I was asking about your appointment with Dr Shelley tomorrow.” Dr Shelley had come highly recommended by both Nurse Grayson and Dr Anderson herself. The child psychiatrist was set to be the one who gave Riley a diagnosis {who gave everyone else a reason Riley was acting ‘so weird’}.
“I mean. I have one?” It was probably more of a statement than a question, but Riley wasn’t exactly sure what Dr Anderson wanted her to say.
“And how are you feeling about it?”
Riley let the question sit in the air, eyes resting on a point just over Dr Anderson’s shoulder {it always felt like too much when they made eye contact. Too real. Still, she could feel the woman’s dark eyes on her, waiting, watching. Expectant}.
“I don’t know.”
Dr Anderson didn’t say anything. Instead, she just watched Riley in silence.
The set up of her office was bad, Riley decided. There was a window to Dr Anderson's left, and the light of late autumn that shone through the window made it difficult to focus. Eventually, Riley hummed slightly, still staring into the brilliant light.
"I don't want to go," she managed to mumble. She took the moment to chance a glance at Dr Anderson, who was still sitting with no discernable thoughts on her face. Riley quickly looked back down at her hands.
"Why not?"
Riley bit at the inside of her cheek, spreading her fingers wide over her thighs, as if that would stop the frantic bouncing in her legs. She breathed in sharply, steeling herself.
"I don't want to be different," she started, and once those words were out, she couldn't stop the rest of them from tumbling out after them, "I don't want to have a problem with me. I don't deserve to be so upset about things, not when Maya's dad left and she lives in a tiny apartment with her mom, and not when Farkle's mom left and his dad hates him—I can't tell anyone about that, though, so just pretend you never heard it—and not when Lucas lost a year of his life and his family don't want him back home, not really. It's not fair of me to take up so much of people's worries and energies. And I'm also scared that there's not going to be anything wrong with me and that I'm just making normal things out to be worse than they are, and that my parents will be mad that I've wasted their time and money and Farkle will hate me because I've been asking so much of him when I'm not even—"
Riley couldn't see her hands though the tears thick in her eyes and her throat, and she laughed wetly. "I hate crying. I want to be all cried out, by now. But there's always more tears when l least expect it."
"Crying is a healthy emotional response," Dr Anderson told her. "Especially when you're feeling so much and don't have anywhere to process those feelings." Riley rubbed at her eyes, reaching over to grab a tissue from the box on the end table to her left. Dr Anderson seemed content to let her pull herself together for a minute.
"Riley, none of what you're feeling is wrong," Dr Anderson said softly, and all of Riley's efforts became useless as a soft sob pushed its way out of her anyway.
"It's okay to be anxious about this- it's a big upheaval in your life. It's changed the way people see you, and the way you see yourself. From what you've told me in past sessions, it seems like it's very important to you to feel like you're in control. And now there's this whole new set of things you have to deal with, and you don't really know how."
"The best advice I can really give you right now is to be honest, Riley. With Dr Shelley, but more importantly, with yourself. You don't have to second-guess your feelings. Even if you can't bring yourself to be confident in their validity—which you don't have to, not yet—try to acknowledge to yourself that you are feeling something that you dearly don't want to be feeling. Let their existence within you be enough, even if you're worried that others won't think that you're allowed to feel like this. You're allowed to have your own feelings, no matter what other people think about them."
Riley nodded to acknowledge that she'd heard the other woman, and took a deep breath in, trying to stop the hiccups that always seemed to come with crying.
"And Riley, from what you've mentioned about your friends and family, they don't seem like the type to judge you for how you feel. Did they help you when you were worried about your other friends?"
"Yes."
"Then I can't imagine a reason they wouldn't support you when you were struggling. You're here, after all, which meant someone cared about you enough to make sure you got help when you were feeling low." Riley swiped at her eyes again, a small smile creeping its way onto her lips.
"It's difficult to be anxious when you logic things out like that," she told Dr Anderson, swallowing the leftover tears down.
"So I'm told," she joked, offering Riley one of the glasses of water on the table between them. She took it gratefully.
"I know it's difficult, but you could also try bringing these feelings up to the people they involve. You don't even have to do it immediately. Maybe you'll want to do it when you've come to terms with these feelings a bit better by yourself. But I think that, if you do, you'll understand better than ever how much of your thoughts are unfounded anxiety.” Riley looked away very determinedly at that point, and Dr Andreson seemed to recognize that Riley had deemed the conversation over.
Mild Depression. ADHD. Anxiety Disorder.
The word had been fluttering around her head all day, loud and constant and terrifying. She’d come home with small scabs around her hands where she’d rubbed them raw while her parents were inside talking with Dr Shelley. She’d had twelve texts from Farkle, and nearly double that from Maya, and eventually she’d turned her text notifications off and blasted Death of a Bachelor on repeat until she couldn’t hear her own thoughts {the way she liked it, the way that was so much more comfortable than thinking}.
Eventually, a knock on the Bay Window made its way into her head, and she sat up, not sure how to chase her well-meaning best friend away.
But it wasn’t Maya, or Lucas, or even Farkle that was crouched on the fire escape outside her window. Instead, Isadora Smackle waved brightly and knocked lightly on the window again (honestly, Riley was kind of impressed that she’d made it up the fire escape, cause she was wearing a knee-length skirt and short stiletto heels, and whenever Riley made use of the exit she at least wore block heels).
She debated for a second before standing up to let Smackle in, forgetting her phone on the bed and experiencing the unpleasantness of her earphones being yanked out of her ears when she moved too far.
“Hey, Smackle,” she greeted nervously after the other girl had crawled in and made herself comfortable in the Bay Window.
“Good morning, Riley,” Smackle responded with her usual promptness, but she was fidgeting a bit with the bottom of her skirt, and she looked nervous. Riley wanted to put her hand over the other girl’s to comfort her but wasn’t sure that it would. Instead, she settled for crossing her legs and waiting for Smackle to say whatever had brought her over.
“Farkle informed me that you had an appointment with a psychiatrist today,” Smackle said, and Riley nodded. She’d given him permission, in a roundabout way, to tell their friends (well, it was really more like she hadn’t told him not to tell anyone, and he'd—correctly—understood that to mean that she wanted them to know).
“And I know you might not want to talk to anyone, but I had also thought-” Smackle hesitated, for a second, and Riley could see how nervous she was about this; “I thought that maybe you’d like to speak with someone who’d already experienced something similar?”
And oh, right. It wasn’t something that Riley thought about all the time, or even that often, that Smackle was on the autism spectrum. She listened to what Smackle asked her to do and not do, and she then did that, because she was Smackle’s friend and that was what she was supposed to do.
“You said you were diagnosed when you were five, right?”
“You remember that?” Smackle seemed surprised, and no matter how bad Riley was feeling about herself, she couldn’t let that stand.
“Of course I do. It’s something important about you. And that was when we became friends. I wasn’t gonna forget that about you.”
Smackle stared at her, and Riley couldn’t quite read her friend’s expression- her eyes were soft and her jaw was clenched, and she was clutching the bottom of her skirt with a ferocity that would cause it to rip if she wasn’t careful. Riley sat and watched, and wasn’t quite sure what to say {it wasn’t like with Dr Anderson, though. With Smackle, Riley felt comfortable}.
“My parents took me to a neurologist when I was five. I still wasn’t speaking, and they were worried, I think. And when they were given a reason, it soothed them a lot. But they never quite understood. After I was diagnosed, they hired an elocutionist to help me learn to speak, because they didn’t like it when I was non-verbal. They still did all the same things, and I think they were just happy to have a reason for me not liking to be touched, or not speaking, or having what they referred to as ‘meltdowns’ when I was in a particularly loud space.”
“Smackle that’s not right-”
“No. In fact, I find their disregard for my neuroatypicality very frustrating, especially when they seem to think that I should have ‘grown out’ of some of my sensory issues. But the point remains that I, too, would rather have an explanation for what I’m feeling. And I think that might be how you feel too?” She broached the topic delicately, and Riley swallowed hard {it’s difficult, Smackle’s struggled so much, why do you deserve people’s sympathy when she—}.
“The first time I was in one of your dad’s classes- when the guidance counsellor thought that Farkle might have an ASD, remember? He said something like the only label you should wear is your name. And I think that that’s a nice philosophy. But I also think that having a label, like autistic, that I can use for myself is actually quite freeing. It feels rather like proof of validity. Something that I can point to and say ‘see? My struggles are real and you have to acknowledge them now’.” Smackle was quiet, then, and she met Riley’s gaze with a fierce passion.
“I like being able to say I’m autistic because it means that other people have to acknowledge my existence and the existence of the problems I face. And I don’t know for sure, but I think that maybe, whatever the psychiatrist told you might be like that?”
“I think that this is the most you’ve ever said to me at one time,” Riley joked, and Smackle giggled brightly.
“It’s something that I care very much about.”
Riley turned to look out her window, staring down at the cars queueing down West 11th. “I got a whole list,” she told Smackle softly, still not looking at her.
“ADHD and Depression and an Anxiety Disorder. They wrote me a prescription, too, that my parents went to file already. For anti-depressants and anxiety relievers and a month’s worth of insomnia medication. And I’m so glad to have it, so happy I’m not going crazy-” her voice cracked, and Riley swallowed down the flood of words threatening to pour out of her mouth.
She took a deep breath.
“I don’t want this,” she told Smackle, who nodded knowingly.
“I don’t know if anyone ever really does. But it gets better. I grew… comfortable with it, eventually. But do you remember, when you first found out, that I wanted to be normal?” Riley nodded quickly, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, even though she wasn’t crying yet.
“I don’t think like that anymore,” Smackle told her, and she paused for another second, before asking, “Would you like a hug?” Riley nodded, and for the first time, she found herself on the receiving end of a hug where her arms were held close to her body, and the other girl’s arms were around her.
“Let me know when the pressure is sufficient,” Smackle asked, and Riley smiled, a breath of laughter escaping her quite unintentionally.
“It’s good.”
They sat like that for a while, just the two of them, and while it wasn’t a position that Riley had ever expected to find herself in, she found that she was quite comfortable.
“I do have a small request, if you do not mind,” Smackle broke the silence again, and Riley’s head quirked to the side, almost without her permission.
“Shoot.”
“I would like to ask that you call me Isadora from now on. I am the only one in our friend group not called by my first name, and while I do not think that you do it on purpose, I do sometimes feel like it separates me from the rest of you.”
Riley pulled herself from her friend’s grasp, but she wasn’t upset. “You only ever had to ask,” she told Isadora, and then grinned when the other girl lit up with excitement.
“I am gonna hug you properly now, though, if that’s okay with you.”
“I would welcome it,” Isadora answered, and that was all it took for Riley to wrap her arms around the other girl.
They spent the rest of the afternoon there, in the Bay Window, exchanging silly stories and childhood dreams and experiences with mental health, and slowly, Riley started feeling normal again- or maybe a new normal was the better term because she’d never been this friendly with Isadora before, and she was finding it to be really fun. It was nice, to just be girly and silly and also to be allowed to be honest about things that she hadn’t told other people before, for fear that they’d think her crazy.
Notes:
Hello and welcome to 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝓁𝑒𝓎'𝓈 𝒱𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝐿𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈
Okay first things first: I AM NOT A PSYCHOLOGIST/THERAPIST of any other nature. I have been going to therapy (not as consistently as I should have been) for six years this year, so I probably have a pretty good idea of, at least, what my therapist might say in a specific circumstance, this fic should not substitute in for therapy for anyone!!! Half the time I'm using this fic t explore things that I personally experienced, so like. I am not the role model, here. If you cannot afford a therapist, 7cups.com or blahtherapy.com both provide access to free peer listeners and cheap access to licensed therapists (or do your own research, there's tons of online therapy things out there!)
Secondly: I am not on the autism spectrum. I've said it before, but I'm saying it again to remind everybody. I do my best with Smackle's character, and a lot of her dialogue in this specific chapter is things an autistic friend of mine has said to me (I got her approval before I published it, and she liked the chapter when she read it). That being said, if you are autistic/have an ASD and you feel I've misrepresented something (or even if you just want to talk about it!) please feel safe to message me (there's a link to my tumblr at the end of the work, or you can leave a comment on this fic).
Thirdly: This chapter was a bit of a filler chapter. I mean, not entirely, but still. It's not very long, I know, but writing these chapters that delve seriously into mental health is pretty taxing on me sometimes, so I do it when I feel like I can. Luckily, after this chapter, we're gonna turn back to the romances a bit, which is a lot easier for me to write as I have never been involved in a romance, and so I can make up whatever the fuck I want.
If you're reading this and i haven't responded to comments you've left on this fic, that's my bad. It's the next thing on my to-do list. But I do want to let you know that SavvyCat who commented yesterday is probably the reason you've got this chapter today. They said "take your time" and my brain said "that time is now", I guess.
If you read Isle Culture, I promise I know what's gonna happen in the next chapter, I just have to convince my brain to write it down.
I hope that you've enjoyed this chapter, and if you've read it, I hope this note didn't bore you endlessly. I seem to use authors notes as a pseudo-diary, so that's my bad.
As always, I hope everyone is staying healthy!!! Sanitize and wear a mask when you go out, and wash your hand very thoroughly!! Take the vaccine if you somehow have access to it (I live in South Africa, and so will likely only be getting the vaccine next year at the earliest)! Remember to read something about systemic issues today. Look after your mental health, and your physical health! I love you all so very much!!
Love,
HarleyP.S. I'm well aware that the people reading chapter 18 of this fic who then also bothered to read my whole author's note are not the people that need these reminders, but I like to write them anyway. Because sometimes you need a reminder to love yourself
Chapter 19: You've Turned into the Prettiest Girl I've Ever Seen (Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen)
Summary:
"I don't remember this fic," you say when you receive the email.
"I'm still following a Girl Meets World fic?" you say when you read it.
"Fuck I don't remember any of this I'm gonna have to go re-read the whole thing," you say, looking at the first paragraph of this chapter.
"I wish ao3 had a function just to notify me when a fic was done so I could read the whole thing in one shot," you whisper to yourself as you open chapter 1.Riley’s sixteenth birthday approached with Niel Sedaka and Christmas lights. As a kid, she’d refused to let her family put up decorations until after her birthday, but then she’d realized that Christmas was the best time to be a Riley and that a week wasn’t nearly enough time to be as festive as she required.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Riley’s sixteenth birthday approached with Niel Sedaka and Christmas lights. As a kid, she’d refused to let her family put up decorations until after her birthday, but then she’d realized that Christmas was the best time to be a Riley, and that a week wasn’t nearly enough time to be as festive as she required.
So the 3rd of December found her in the family room with Auggie, Farkle and Lucas, hanging stockings on the stairway railing (they’d used to put them on the mantle, but then Auggie’s had caught fire and their mom had decided to hang the flammable decorations up in a place that was less of a fire hazard) and fighting with the plastic tree (Topanga insisted that it was better value-for-money and maybe that was true but Riley was pretty sure that her dad just didn’t like carting fresh trees up the stairs each year, which… fair enough).
It had been a bit of a process, getting both Lucas and Farkle to be there; she’d invited them both for Christmas because Farkle’s dad was leaving on the 20th for a singles cruise through the Portuguese Islands and Lucas’s mom hadn’t been able to afford the plane ticket to come up from Texas {Riley had considered offering to fly her up, as a Christmas present- a group present from her, Farkle and Maya, even though the three of them had already known that it would be mostly-from-Farkle. Her plan had been cut short when Lucas had casually mentioned that she would be taking a train to see her parents, instead}.
{Lucas stayed at a nearby long-term hostel, most of the time, and they had a pretty strict no-overnight-visitors rule that they wouldn’t break, even for his mom, and a train ticket and staying with her parents was cheaper than even a train ticket and a three-night stay in the city (again, both Riley and Farkle had tried to offer their places, but Lucas had looked at them stonily and just changed the subject)}.
When she’d eventually just invited Lucas to spend Christmas with her family, he’d tried to turn her down {“it’s really fine, Riley,” he’d tried. “They have a nice enough spread on Christmas. And there’s only like five of us, so we get to eat so much”}, but Topanga Lawrence-Matthews (Attorney at Law) had refused that answer. And then when she invited Farkle, he’d tried to cite Lucas as an excuse {“c’mon, Riles, you don’t really want me there. First Christmas with your boyfriend and your family, and you wanna invite the weirdo family charity case?”}, but her dad had called Mr Minkus and gotten him to insist that Farkle spend Christmas with them.
And then when she’d invited them to decorate, they’d both tried to wiggle out of it again— Lucas with “we’re decorating the hostel that day” (even though she knew he’d skipped out on decorating the hostel for the last two years) and Farkle with more reasoning about how she surely wanted to spend some time with just her boyfriend and her family (soundly trounced with the decorating-draft dodgers didn’t get Christmas cookies argument). The two of them had been acting weird recently. She wasn’t sure what that was about.
{“Hey pal, can we talk for a minute?” Lucas asked. Farkle started slightly, but then inclined his head, thoughts still on Riley, whose psychiatrist appointment had probably just begun.
They sat together in silence for a minute, watching the breakfast crowd at Topanga’s breeze in and out with the steady dedication of people doing chores on a Saturday morning. Eventually, Lucas cleared his throat and awkwardly mumbled, “...so, you knew?”
*
It wasn’t the first conversation of this nature Farkle had had recently. Obviously, he’d spoken with Mr Matthews outside the nurses’ office, but Topanga had also cornered him when he’d been leaving 285 West Street. She’d been a lot less accusatory than Mr Matthews had been, but she’d still told him that, regardless of what his parents clearly thought, he was still a child, and he wasn’t supposed to be able to be dealing with the sort of thing Riley was going through without help— that even full-grown adults needed help with friends experiencing mental health issues. It had been vaguely comforting if he ignored the slight against his parents. Because she’d also told him that she understood, that she knew that sometimes there was no good option and that she was still proud of him for doing the best he could (and, god, Mr Matthews and Topanga-Lawrence Matthews were really the perfect good cop/bad cop team).
Maya had asked brought it up one evening during one of their tutoring sessions (she couldn’t afford to pay a professional math tutor—with Shawn’s income on top of her mother’s, they now always made ends meet, but it wasn’t always comfortable—and he didn’t need the money and didn’t like being alone in his huge house, just the staff rattling around): “You could have told me, y’know.”
“Riley didn’t want you to think worse of her.”
“Yeah, but she’s not thinking straight. You knew that I could never think worse of Riley. That I’d only ever want to help,” Maya had tried to argue.
“Sure. And if I’d told you, she’d never have trusted either of us again, and the next time it happened, she wouldn't have told anyone, and it would have just gotten worse and worse.”
“It got worse anyway, Farkle!” Maya had yelled, and it was probably good that Shawn and Katy already knew about everything, otherwise they might have worried. “It got worse anyway, and we—her friends—got to watch it all overwhelm her in front of everyone, and there was nothing we could do about it because we didn’t fucking know about it in the first place.”
“Maya, it’s not me that you’re mad at,” he’d placated—
“Yeah, but I can’t yell at Riley about it!”
They’d let it sit there for a minute. Blinking at each other in terse silence. Because he was mad at Riley too; the secrets were fucking difficult to live with (the ones they weren’t keeping together, anyway. New Year's was a joint secret. The panic attacks weren't, not anymore).
“God, I’ve wanted to, though,” he’d admitted. “Like, all the fucking time. Every time she made me promise not to tell anyone.”
“I love her so much,” they’d burst out at the same time, and then laughed.
“She’s my best friend,” Maya’d said softly, and he’d rubbed her shoulder in a soothing gesture.
“Mine, too.”
*
And now, Lucas was staring at him, hand at the nape of his neck, slightly grimacing. And Farkle sighed because there was no way this wasn’t going to be awkward.
“Yeah, Lucas. I knew.”
“And you didn’t think it was something any of us could have helped with?” Lucas’s eyes were hard, even if his body language was still embarrassed. And Farkle just knew that this would be going downhill fast.
“Lucas, you were there the first time she had a panic attack. We had lunch together and she just stood up and ran to the bathroom. You had Feinstein-Chang and couldn’t be late, so I went to check on her. We ditched school for the rest of the day. None of you ever asked about it.”
“Man I assumed she just had her period or something and you took her to lie down.”
Farkle scoffed in disbelief, “What, so a woman is having a bad time and that automatically means she’s on her period? Fuck, that’s real mature Lucas.”
Lucas ran both his hands through his hair as he tried to respond—”That’s not what I meant and you fucking know it. God, you’re so fucking defensive of her it’s insane. You’re not her boyfriend, Farkle.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be!”
It hung in the air, too loud even after it was said. The boys stared at each other, somewhat shocked that it had even been said aloud. It felt like Topanga’s had fallen silent, even with the coffee machine whirring in the background and Katy Hunter’s voice occasionally calling out names and orders.
“Not that— not that someone else should be. Or that — that she doesn’t want you to be, or anything. Riley’s happy with you. I don’t get to make that decision for her.”
Lucas stared at him, hands flexing and clenching, lips twisted into an ugly half-smile. “And the truth comes out,” he noted wryly, “I fucking knew it. You like me fine as a friend, but the moment I get near one of your girls, it doesn’t fucking matter what we’ve been through together. I’m not good enough for them.”
“Lucas, that’s not true—”
“Bullshit, Farkle! ”
“Okay, boys, that's enough!” Katy Hunter was standing between them, hands on her hips. “Y’all gotta take this outside- you’re disturbing the nice, paying customers. And anyway, I don't think you oughtta be talking about Riley or her business when she ain’t here, yeah?”
“Sorry, Mrs Hunter,” they'd mumbled in unison, and Lucas had spun on his heel and been out the door before Farkle could think to catch up with him, so instead he'd bought a danish as an apology to Katy and nestled himself in a sunny corner to worry about Riley in peace}.
“You have the most awesome hot chocolate, Mrs Lawrence-Matthews,” Lucas told her mother, grinning broadly. Riley glanced around to check who all was watching, and when it was just Farkle, she kissed Lucas fast enough that she’d pulled back by the time her mom turned around to respond— “You have manners for the whole of New York,” she told him, dropping an extra mini marshmallow into his cup as a reward, “the rest of these heathens think that hot chocolate is their god-given right.”
“Thank you, mom!” “Thank you, O gracious Topanga, love of my life and mother of my children” Riley and her dad (somewhat) chorused.
“And the Lord said, let there be Swiss Miss,” Farkle quipped drily in response. Her mom cuffed him lightly over the head. “I’ll have you know, Farkle Minkus, that this is genuine Jummy Cocoamy Organic Hot Chocolate Mix.” And anyone could see she was reading off the packet, but Farkle’s lips quirked up in a half-smile and he accepted the kitten-print mug being handed to him.
“ ‘Course, Mrs Topanga. Didn’t mean to besmirch the good name of the Lawrence-Matthewses.” And Topanga Lawrence-Matthews rolled her eyes and kissed her son’s forehead as he mumbled Mattheseseseseses.
“So. You’ve got a tree. And stockings. And hot chocolate. What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Her dad asked, surreptitiously trying to push a marshmallow back and forth between his teeth till it turned to liquid.
“Well, I wanna watch Moana. Farkle wants to watch some weird World War 2 movie. And Lucas still hasn’t seen Doctor Strange, so he’s campaigning for renting it, but Farkle and I have seen it already and Maya’s on some family thing with Shaun so she can’t just decide and make us all watch whatever she chose, which is usually how we pick movies. And I think that we should watch my pick because it’s nearly my birthday so they should be giving me preference, but Farkle says I can’t use that until next week due to some immutable law of the universe, or something.”
Her dad’s eyes glaze over a couple of seconds into the explanation, but her mom follows along, nodding seriously.
“Well, why don’t you invite Zay and Smackle along and ask what they want to do?”
“Oh. Uh, mom, we’re not really using ‘Smackle’ for Isadora anymore. She said it felt weird cause we didn’t call anyone else by their last name.”
“Right. Sorry honey,” Topanga Lawrence-Matthews corrected herself apologetically, “So, invite Zay and Isadora.”
“She’s visiting her grandparents in San Fransico this week. And Zay has a dress rehearsal for his ballet production—” Riley explained.
“No he doesn’t,” Lucas interjected, brow furrowed. “That’s only next week.”
“It’s definitely today. He snapped me from the wings.” Riley countered, dragging her finger across the lock screen and showing Lucas the picture (it was a good picture- or maybe, rather, a good snapchat. Zay was backlit, posing with his tongue out, positioned to that it seemed like the girl pirouetting on stage was standing on top of his head).
“I swear that was supposed to be next week. I remember it was the same day as the baseball boot camp.”
“A baseball boot camp? Lucas, it’s mid-fucking-winter!”
“Language, Farkle!” Her mother scolded, and Farkle’s cheeks pinked and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry Topanga.” Her mom nodded sharply, gratified by the apology, before turning to watch Lucas answer.
“Yeah, but the coach is worried we’re gonna get lazy or something, so he’s running these conditioning camps every three weeks. They kill. But the next one’s only on the third.”
Riley met Farkle’s eyes, silently pleading that he be the one to point out—”Lucas, today’s the third,” her father said, looking up from the exam paper he was desperately trying to get a hot chocolate stain off of.
“No, it’s not.”
“It absolutely is,” Farkle agreed, sitting down next to Lucas and opening his phone screen to prove it.
“Damnit. Goddamnit. Shit— uh, sorry, Mrs Matthews. Okay, it’s only—” he checked his watch, “Five past. There’s still like three and a half hours left. Okay. I gotta go. Thank you so much for the hot chocolate, Mrs Matthews.”
He cast a quick, critical eye over the room from his vantage point in front of the door. Not seeing anything else he’d brought with him, “Bye, Riles, I’ll call you tonight.”
He was out the door before Riley could blink, the sound of the door latching shut coming before she could even get out a good luck!. She stared at the closed door for a couple of seconds before turning to look at Farkle, Cheshire cat grin across her face.
“So. Moana?”
Farkle put his head down on the table and groaned.
{They did end up watching Moana, and Farkle—as predicted by Riley, and Maya, and Zay and Isadora—fucking loved it, even though he’d managed to piece together the entire plot five minutes into the movie. He loved it so much that he insisted on going with them again when Riley and Maya went to watch it (which they allowed because he always paid for popcorn and they’d said “any time”).
And then, faster than she'd ever expected, she was sixteen. A brave new world, more or less. Her birthday was marked with a surprise party (a surprise sweet sixteen, the Sa-Sa-Sa, Maya was a fucking genius), and a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. She spent the day before on a thrift shopping spree with Maya at a market down in Bryant park, and the day-of almost vibrating out of her skin—she skipped her ADHD meds that day, didn't want to feel weighted down and quiet and heavy the way they sometimes made her feel, and she didn't think anyone would notice, but after they had cake Farkle pushed a cup of coffee into her hands with a short "caffeine is a stimulant, you know", and whenever she'd misplace the fidget toy Isadora had given her, she'd find it back in her hands a couple of minutes later (whenever she noticed that she'd been playing with the toy instead of picking at her cuticles or the scab on her lip, she'd smile at the other girl, and Isadora would grin back, hands on her own fidget—which was attached to her necklace, and fucking genius).
And then that evening when everyone had gone home, and it was just her and Maya in her bedroom, the way it had always been, they'd cuddled up together on her bed and found a website that let you watch all the Barbie movies, and marathoned through Barbie and the Diamond Castle, and Barbie in the Princess and the Pauper, and Barie in a Christmas Carol (their favourites, from girlhood. The ones with a pretty blonde girl and her pretty brunette friend who were as close Riley&Maya. The ones where the two best friends lived together and did everything together).
They fell asleep curled around each other and when Riley woke up to the sun streaming through her windows because she’d forgotten to close her curtains, again, she held still for as long as possible, happy to watch Maya, sleeping peacefully and next-to-glowing in the sunlight, golden hair fanned around her face and an old T-shirt of Riley’s as her co-opted pyjamas}.
Notes:
...hi.
Am I aware that this fic was last updated two years ago? Yes. It's been a bit of a rough go of it for me. The pandemic did whatever the opposite of inspiring me to write is. But in other news, I have Officially Been Diagnosed With ADHD (TM) which is wild. I am 22. I also have a boyfriend I've been seeing for nearly a year. And I built a video game! (It's not really published anywhere, but if you want to play it, you can go download this zip file. I wrote the story for it so if you like my writing you might enjoy it :)). And I started a whole 9-to-5 job last week. And this chapter has been sitting in my drafts since 2021. And It's not even 3000 words but it wasn't gonna go anywhere else.
After the Life Update, I actually have a very important thing I'd like to say: if some of the ways Riley's been acting in this fic feel familiar, go get checked out. Because I was writing this fic "as someone who didn't have ADHD" and I put a lot of my general mannerisms into Riley—things I now know I developed from having undiagnosed ADHD. If you are a woman, or female-presenting, or AFAB, especially, because ADHD gets missed in girls, a lot.
I also changed my ao3 user name. I think that was after I last posted a chapter of now we're patriots, so you might be a bit confused.
I love you. I'm glad I exist.
hara_leah