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❛ ʟᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ & ʟᴀᴄᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ʟɪɢʜᴛɴɪɴɢ sᴛʀɪᴋᴇs
ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ꒱


❝ I'D NEVER SEEN IT / BUT I
FOUND THIS LOVE, I'M
GONNA FEED IT / YOU BETTER
BELIEVE / I'M GONNA TREAT IT
BETTER THAN ANYTHING I'VE
EVER HAD ❞

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While Miya didn't think that Harper's claim of her loving books by the end of the year was possible, the extra help she was receiving from her 'cool' teacher was certainly making English easier than it had ever been before. Harper didn't even do popcorn reading, where the class led the recitation of whatever book they were currently studying and randomly called on a student to read the next passage. That had always been Miya's worst fear since she couldn't pre-read her section before she was called upon. The yellow overlay sheets and additional help during lunchtime were proving especially useful as they eased her anxiety about reading aloud in class.

Still, when Riley and Farkle walked down the hallway carrying large boxes filled with books— their yearbooks— her insides curdled as she remembered her least favorite page: the superlatives. In England, Jonah had always been voted most likely to succeed or smartest, while she considered herself lucky if the worst category she earned was most likely to never change at all.

Riley beamed at their classmates as she passed out the books. "Yearbooks! Find out who we are and what we really think about each other."

Maya turned to Lucas with a sly smile on her face. "You wanna know what I think about you?"

Lucas grimaced, knowing exactly where this was going. "No, I do not."

"But I wanna tell you," the blonde insisted as she jumped down from the half wall.

"I don't think you need to," Lucas protested, taking a cautious step back.

"I'm gonna do it anyway."

"Don't do it."

Maya closed the distance between them, backing him against the wall. "It's been a while."

"I'm asking you not to do it," he pleaded.

She simply arched a brow. "I'm gonna do it. You wanna run, or you want it straight in the face?"

The Texan glanced at their friends helplessly as she began humming a scale to warm up. "Well, I wanna run, but how would that look?" When he received no response, he added desperately, "you guys wouldn't judge me if I run, right?" When his question was ignored, he beseeched her, "come on, man. There's always another option."

Maya continued with another scale. Then, with a twist of her head to gear up for the eruption, she whipped around to face him with a forceful, "ha HURRR!" right in his face, so powerful it ruffled the ends of his hair.

He blinked as he recovered from the onslaught. "You okay now?"

She chuckled, pleased with herself. "That was good."

"You know else is good?" Riley asked not to be deterred from her original subject. "Yearbooks. All of our classmates say what they think of us."

"Yearbook, find out how we'll be remembered," Farkle agreed. He handed a copy to Lucas with a faux-irritated glare. "Guess what? You took another nice picture, you freak."

"Thanks, Farkle," the other teen acknowledged, bemused. He opened the book curiously. "How will you be remembered?"

"Did they do it to you again?" Maya wondered as she flipped through the pages of her version.

"Most likely to be Farkle. . ." Lucas read off. "Farkle."

Miya turned the pages of her own book, deciding to rip the band aid off before her friends could tell her what her category was. There was the faintest hope of it being different now that she was in a new school, but she didn't need to excel at math to know that being friends with only four out of her tens of classmates was not the majority vote. Sure enough, when her gaze fell on her picture, her heart sank and she closed her book with a sharp snap.

"I didn't think I'd win it again this year, but I did," Farkle sighed.

"What does that mean exactly, Farkle?" Riley wondered.

He shrugged. "How should I know? They turned being me into a category."

Lucas' gaze flicked over the page to find his other friends. His lips quirked up as he found Riley's category. "Hey, Riley won most likely to smile herself to death."

"Aw. Well, who wouldn't wanna go that way?" The brunette beamed at the 'compliment.' "I mean, when the time comes, why you gotta be a gloomy Gus?"

"Riles, I don't think they meant this as a good thing," Maya told her gently.

"They can't be all bad," Lucas reasoned. "What did you get, Miya?"

As he flipped the page, Miya dropped her yearbook on the floor in her haste. She launched forward and slammed her hands down on the book to prevent him from seeing the additional superlatives. She looked up at him, her dark eyes widening with a silent plea as she begged him, "don't look, please. It's not that important."

He blinked at her, taken aback by the urgency in her tone, and was unexpectedly moved by her appeal. "O-okay. Sure."

Just as he closed his book to obey her request, Maya scoffed. "You know we all have books, right?"

Disregarding her wish, the blonde turned the page of her own copy. Miya abandoned Lucas' side and rushed over to her next friend to do the same. "No! Please, Maya!" She thought frantically about how she could sway the rebellious girl, then declared firmly: "name-twin power!"

Maya's stared at her in surprise, her mouth dropping open slightly in shock. Miya had never been as enthusiastic about their similar names as she had been. For her to invoke their bond like that helped her understand the importance of the Asian girl's entreaty. "O. . . kay," she conceded slowly, letting the page fall back in place.

The brunette turned to her remaining two friends; they were both watching her with confusion, though Farkle's— as smart as he was— had a tinge of understanding as well. Without waiting for her to beg him as well, he promptly ripped out the page she was on and crumpled it into a ball. "I don't care what anyone else thinks of you," he informed her steadily. "You're my best friend: I don't need a yearbook to tell me that."

She smiled at him with relief, touched by his solidarity. But his confidence faltered as he considered his and Riley's own titles. "They're making fun of me and you, and I suspect Miya, too, no matter what we think of each other."

The exuberance on Riley's face faded. "What?"

Maya squinted at her. "Would you stop smiling?"

"I'm not smiling, Maya," she corrected her friend. "This is my upset face." Then, her expression became impossibly brighter, her mouth opening to nearly its fullest extent. "This is smiling."

"You know what? I don't care what they say," Farkle stated.

"Neither do I," Riley added.

"I don't care what they say at all."

The brunette tightened her grip determinedly on her book. "Neither do I at all!" She growled in frustration, then leaned closer to the genius to whisper, "how did this stuff even get in here? We're the editors."

Farkle shook his head. "Wow, we must have very poor quality control."

Maya leaned over to peer at Lucas' copy. "What did you get, huckleberry?"

He started, having completely forgotten about his category with all the fuss. He rifled through the pages until he'd found the right section again. "I got most likely to be okay with anything that ever happens."

She smirked at him. "How do you feel about that?"

"Well, actually, I'm okay with that," he answered, then paused as the realization dawned on him. "Oh!"

Their short conversation had given Riley enough time to let her label sink in. She dipped her head and tried for a 'moody' tone. "I'm not all sunshine and rainbows. I have a dark side."

Maya was unconvinced. "Let me see your dark-side face."

Riley gave them her best frown, which was really just her lips pressing together in a less vibrant-than-usual smile while her eyes widened in an attempt to look serious. They let out 'aws' at the sight. Lucas' brows furrowed as he thought about his friends' trademark dramatics. "Look, guys, we're not gonna make a huge deal out of this, are we?"

"Of course not," Miya replied softly, looking down at the cover of her yearbook so that her hair fell in front of her face. "It's only the same thing that's happened every single grade I've ever been in. I'm used to it by now."

"Yeah. Who cares?" Farkle reasoned.

"It's only what everybody thinks of us," Riley argued.

Lucas shifted his weight, jutting his hip out stubbornly. "What's more important to you? What you think of yourself or what other people think of you?"

"What I think of myself," the brunette admitted, though it wasn't quite the answer Lucas had been hoping for as she continued, "and what I think of myself is that it really bothers me what other people think of me."

"Yeah!" Farkle exclaimed.

"Well, forget about it," the Texan dismissed her. "It's not like you can just turn around and be someone new."

Farkle gave him a considering look. "Yeah." Then, as he turned around, he ripped his turtleneck off to reveal a black t-shirt underneath. He pulled a beanie out of his pocket and placed it on his head. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he announced, "this is me now."

Miya froze, gaping at Farkle with wide eyes as the world around her seemed to blur and slow down. What just happened? she thought, her heartbeat quickening in her chest. The Farkle she had known her entire life— the awkward, overly self-assured genius with turtlenecks and who had goofy catchphrases— had just transformed into someone entirely new yet still him.

The sight of him standing there, effortlessly cool in his black t-shirt and beanie, his hands shoved casually in his pockets, made her chest tighten. Suddenly, she wasn't sure if she was looking at her best friend anymore. Or, maybe she was, but everything felt. . . different.

Her heart stuttered as he smirked— an actual, confident smirk— and told them, "Farkle is gone. You will never see him again."

Miya's eyes stayed glued to the History classroom door that he disappeared into long after they couldn't see him anymore, her thoughts still whirling. It was the sort of transformation you'd see in a romcom where the 'nerd' takes off their glasses and everyone realizes they're secretly a model. But this wasn't a movie. This was real life, and the realization hit her like lightning: he's attractive.

Her hands gripped the yearbook tightly, her knuckles whitening. Farkle Minkus. Attractive. Those were words she'd never thought to put together in the same sentence, let alone apply to him. And yet, there he was, being exactly that. Her chest tightened as warmth bloomed in her cheeks.

Miya, get a grip. It's Farkle. She forced herself to breathe, trying to ground herself in reality. They had literally joked about how they could never see each other that way. "I don't want to be a third fiddle," she'd said. They'd laughed at the possibility of that ever happening. But now, the that conversation made her stomach churn uncomfortably. Maybe being third choice wouldn't be so bad— not when it came to Farkle.

She shook her head slightly, trying to dismiss the sudden flood of emotions as something shallow. It was just his new style, right? That was all this was. She was reacting to the change, not him. Because it couldn't be him. That would make no sense. She couldn't have feelings for her best friend— not after all these years. Right?

The brunette desperately tried to reason with herself: it's just the t-shirt and beanie. That's all. It doesn't mean anything. But deep down, a small voice whispered that it did.

🌎🌎🌎

Cory Matthews both loved and dreaded his first period history class. He got to see his daughter, but there was always something going on with her chaotic group of friends that made each day unpredictable. Today was no different as he walked into the room to find Farkle leaning against his desk— but not the Farkle he was familiar with, no; that would've been too easy. This time, the genius' style had changed completely so that he gave off an effortless air of 'cool' The curly-haired man glanced at his daughter to see if this was affecting her in any way and was relieved to see that she still appeared to be normal. Steeling himself, he prepared to address this new development. "Okay, what have we got here?"

"I'm Donnie Barnes!" came the teen's response which, needless to say, did not clear anything up.

Mr. Matthews looked to his students for help, but the only explanation he got was Maya's eyeroll as she commented, "really, Farkle, of all the names in the world you could pick for another personality, you pick Donnie Barnes?"

He crossed his arms defensively. "You don't get it, do you? I'm Donnie Barnes, regular guy."

"I'd see that movie," Cory admitted.

"Donnie Barnes is the real me," he explained. "Farkle Minkus is my goofy other personality."

Although she was still coming to terms with her change of heart, Miya frowned at his reasoning. While his new clothes truthfully did make his attractive characteristics more apparent, she was beginning to realize that she had always liked his goofy personality. That was the boy she'd become friends with initially. That was the boy she'd been caring about for the last ten years of her life. She didn't know Donnie Barnes and she wasn't sure if he would have the same loyalty as Farkle Minkus— her best friend above all else— did.

Lucas disliked this decision, too, and he stood up sharply to walk to the front of the room. "No, you're Farkle. Look, I'll prove it to you." He flipped Mr. Matthews' nameplate over to reveal Farkle on the other side. "See?"

Predictably, the genius was one step ahead. He turned the nameplate over to the third side so that it read Donnie Barnes: Regular Guy. As the Texan looked at the name in disbelief, Farkle insisted, "I don't wanna be most likely to be Farkle. Face it, cowboy. There's a new pretty boy in town. Thank you. I am—" he began, bowing in his typical, triumphant way. He froze, then relaxed and calmly slid into his seat as he finished casually, "Donnie Barnes."

Lucas pivoted to seek help from his teacher. "Are you gonna do something? Because this is where you do something, right? Are you gonna do something? Is there a lesson? You got a lesson? Is there a lesson?"

"Iceland—"

"Iceland!" the teen repeated, pointing hopefully at his friend. "You all fixed?" He bent to take a closer look at the genius. "No? I don't think he's all fixed." Lucas then gave Mr. Matthews an accusing look. "If that was Riley, you know you'd fix her."

"Sit down, Lucas," Cory told him.

He obeyed, though not without grumbling, "oh, you know I'm right."

"Iceland and Greenland," the curly-haired man stated. "What do you think about them, Mr. Barnes?"

Farkle slouched in his seat comfortably. "When I look like this, I don't have to think. Right, Lucas?"

Lucas stared at him, offended. "Dude, I won the scholar athlete award."

"Ooh, nerd alert!" The class laughed at his quip, but it was a certain giggle that made Farkle turn around, his brows knitting together as he met Miya's gaze. Her dark eyes sparkled at him as she chuckled, her hand coming up to hide her smile as she glanced apologetically at Lucas. It was far from the first time he'd ever made her laugh, but his newfound appearance didn't stop his genius brain from working overtime as he analyzed her. He noted the strange way she ducked her head and how the tip of her nose turned a bit pink.

However, he wasn't given long to take in her reaction as Cory regained the class's attention. "Iceland and Greenland, anybody?"

"Iceland is a land of ice," Riley volunteered.

"Wrong."

"Then Greenland is a land of green," Maya offered.

Their teacher pointed at her. "Wrong!"

She crossed her arms and scowled. "Then who cares? Stupid countries don't even know who they are. Stupid countries."

"The Vikings discovered this beautiful green country," Cory lectured them.

"I come from Vikings," Farkle shared.

Lucas faced him questioningly. "You do?"

"You don't know me," he retorted.

Miya gazed at the back of his head, her humor from earlier dissipating. "I thought I did."

Farkle twisted in his seat to give her a concerned look. "You do. You do."

But the brunette only met his eyes with a worried expression of her own, troubled by her best friend's change. Mr. Matthews returned to the lesson. "So, the Vikings, they didn't want anyone else taking their new country, so they decided to name it Iceland. Everyone figures it must be cold. Nobody wants to go there."

Riley considered this. "So they made everybody think of it in that way even though it wasn't true?"

"That's right," he confirmed. "Then another Viking comes along, Erik the Red, and he discovers a land of snow and ice. He wants everyone to go there instead, so he names that Greenland, and everyone goes there. The jerks!"

"So you're saying the perception of a thing doesn't make it so?" Lucas chimed in, speaking up with his friends in mind.

"I'm saying people are always gonna say stuff," the curly-haired man emphasized. "How you react to what they say is what makes you the person you are."

His daughter fiddled with her pen as she took in his advice. "So don't react."

"That's right."

"Just keep on smiling," she decided.

"Would you, please? Lesson over."

The brunette grinned contentedly. "And nothing anybody else says is ever going to make me feel any different."

As if determined to prove her wrong, one of the girls who sat towards the back of the class lifted up her yearbook to show them the superlative page. "Hey, Maya, Lucas, congratulations on winning favorite couple."

Maya jerked around to stare at the page in horror, her face paling as she thought about how this would make Riley feel. Lucas was equally stunned as he opened his own book to take in this information firsthand. "How is that possible?"

"How could anybody ever see me and Lucas as a couple?" the blonde demanded.

"Everybody does," the girl replied as if it should've been obvious.

Riley gestured between herself and Lucas. "But we're so much alike."

"And they're so different," another student enthused.

"But we're like a summer rain," the Matthews girl protested.

Sarah grinned. "And they're like fi-yah."

"Daddy, remember when you told me not to react?" Riley asked.

"Yes?"

She pulled her hair over her face and mumbled, "I'm gonna react."

🌎🌎🌎

To say the afternoon once school let out was weird wouldn't be an exaggeration. Riley went straight home and looked for everything black that existed in her parents' apartment. Meanwhile, Miya and Farkle were picked up by the Minkus' official-looking car to be driven back to the penthouse. The Asian girl couldn't stop stealing glances at her once-familiar best friend as she tried to adjust to his new appearance. How did someone manage to look so good in a beanie and black shirt? (Especially when she had never noticed him like that before?)

As the sleek black car hummed along the bustling streets of Manhattan, Miya pressed her cheek against the cool window, feigning interest in the blurred scenery outside. The truth was, her attention kept straying to Farkle (she refused to call him 'Donnie' no matter what other changes he sought out) who was sitting next to her, scrolling through something on his phone like this whole situation wasn't utterly mind-bending.

"How are you not weirded out by this?" she blurted, her voice higher pitched than she intended.

Farkle looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Weirded out by what?"

She gestured vaguely toward him, her hand flopping uselessly in the air. "This! You! Donnie Barnes! Since when do you own a black shirt? And a beanie, of all things?"

Farkle tilted his head, bemusement dancing in his blue eyes. "Since I realized that being the embodiment of Farkle Minkus for a third year in a row might be getting. . . old? I figured a change would be good. Plus, I've been around Maya long enough now that I want to embrace my inner rebel." He smirked, tugging the beanie down slightly for effect.

Miya's stomach did an unwelcome somersault. What was that? She stared at him for a moment too long, then snapped her head back to the window, cheeks flaming.

"Uh-huh," she mumbled. "Rebel. Sure."

If Farkle noticed her sudden inability to form coherent sentences, he didn't show it. Instead, he leaned back against the plush seat, his long legs stretched out in a way that was somehow both casual and disarming. "Besides, you don't think this look suits me?"

Miya froze. It was such a simple question, but the way he asked it— his voice smooth and tinged with amusement— felt like it carried a weight she wasn't ready to handle. She risked another glance at him and immediately regretted it. He was grinning, his posture exuding a quiet self-assuredness she hadn't noticed before.

"It's. . . fine," she managed, her words coming out stiff and unconvincing. "I mean, yeah. It's cool, I guess. Whatever."

Farkle raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Cool? You think I look cool?"

"No!" she denied quickly, her face going even redder. "I mean, yes. I mean. . . ugh, forget it."

A low chuckle escaped him and Miya felt like she might melt into the leather seat. How was it possible for someone to sound so effortlessly charming when they were laughing at her?

"I think you're acting weird," he stated after a beat, his tone light and teasing. "You're usually the one making fun of me and now you're all. . ." He waved a hand in her direction. ". . .frazzled."

"I am not frazzled," Miya snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. But the effect was ruined by the fact that her voice cracked slightly on the last word.

Farkle smirked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His blue eyes gleamed as he studied her, his gaze far too penetrating for Miya's liking. "Oh, you're definitely frazzled," he informed her with a smugness that could only come from his personality change.

Miya nearly choked on her own indignation, though a part of her felt comforted as they fell into their familiar, playful, banter-like argument. "You're delusional! I am not frazzled!"

"Whatever you say." The genius's grin widened and he sat up straighter, the shift in posture making him seem taller. "But I think you're deflecting."

"Deflecting?!" she sputtered, her arms flailing. "What am I even deflecting from, huh? You're the one sitting there acting like you've suddenly transformed into some wannabe heartthrob and I'm just trying to process it!"

The brunet tilted his head, feigning deep contemplation. "Wannabe heartthrob? Huh. That's oddly specific."

"Don't read into it!"

"I think I just did." His tone was maddeningly calm and, for the first time ever, his expression made her want to throw something at him— preferably something soft, so she wouldn't feel too guilty about it later.

Miya let out a groan and buried her face in her hands, her thoughts a jumbled mess. This was Farkle, her best friend, her confidant, the guy who used to wear turtlenecks in ninety degree weather! Why was she suddenly so hyperaware of him? Why did his teasing make her heart race instead of just making her roll her eyes?

"Argh, you're being so insufferable," she muttered, her voice muffled but full of frustration.

"Insufferable?" Farkle repeated with mock offense. "That's harsh, 'Nacci. I'm calling you out on ad hominem."

Her eyes narrowed at his Latin phrase. "Don't pull your debate team nonsense on me. I'm immune."

"Oh, really?" Farkle retorted, leaning closer, his smirk widening as if daring her to break. "Because so far, I'm winning this argument."

"Winning?" Miya spluttered, sitting up straighter as she tried to match his height advantage. "You think you're winning? That's rich, coming from the guy who—who—"

The brunette's words caught in her throat, her mind racing for a retort that wouldn't make her sound like a lovesick fool. But before she could come up with anything, Farkle did the unthinkable.

He reached out and booped her on the nose.

The gesture was so unexpected, so completely ridiculous and un-Farkle-like, that it effectively silenced her. Her mouth hung open in a silent protest as she stared at him, wide-eyed and frozen. The warmth of his fingertip lingered on her nose and she couldn't look away from the playful glint in his eyes.

"What— what was that?" she finally managed to stammer.

Farkle leaned back with a satisfied grin, crossing his arms as if he'd just won some grand battle. "A tactical move," he remarked nonchalantly. "Worked like a charm, didn't it?"

Her hand instinctively went to her nose, as though she could erase the lingering sensation of his touch. But instead of the fiery retort she wanted to hurl at him, all that came out was a breathy, "oh."

Farkle's eyebrows shot up. "Oh?" he repeated. He tilted his head, studying her reaction, having expected her to have a sharp retort at the ready. "That's. . . not the response I was expecting."

Miya couldn't help herself; she gazed at him, completely entranced, her mind a swirling mess of emotions she couldn't even begin to untangle. The sight of her, dazed and uncharacteristically quiet, seemed to catch him off guard.

"Wait, are you—" he started, but then he stopped, his expression shifting into something close to concern. "Miya? Are you—"

"I'm fine!" But her voice cracked again, and she knew she wasn't fooling anyone.

He laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "I think this really does mean I won this round."

"Don't get used to it," she grumbled, crossing her arms and looking out the window to hide how flustered she was.

🌎🌎🌎

At school the next morning, Miya was peacefully gathering her necessary items for class at her locker when she was suddenly ambushed by Maya. An unknown hand grasped her shoulder and forcefully whirled her around, making her books fall to the floor with a series of thuds. Her back hit the lockers (though thankfully not hard enough to hurt) and her hands instinctively flew up on either side of her head. Then she took in the fierce, urgent expression Maya wore on her face.

Her blonde hair was held up in a ponytail and she was inexplicably carrying a brunette wig. She had on a brightly colored dress and a red admiral jacket that Miya was pretty sure she'd seen Riley wear at one point. The Hart girl's blue eyes were intense as they met her gaze and Miya found herself speechless by the odd occurrence.

"Now it's my turn to invoke the name-twin power, name-twin," she announced. "I need your help before I do something drastic and irrevocable."

"W-what?" she stuttered, still coming to terms with seeing Maya so abruptly.

"Riley's stopped being herself now, too. You haven't seen her yet today, but she's wearing all black," the blonde shared with her, sounding horrified. "She redecorated the bay window without my permission and hung black drapes and covered up all of her color. I need her back, name-twin. But the only way I can get her back is if I get Farkle back. And then only way I can do that is if you talk to him."

The Asian girl blinked at Maya, still pinned to her locker as her books lay scattered around her feet. The franticness in the other girl's voice was enough to make her nervous, but the ridiculous sight of Maya in a Riley-esque outfit was almost too much to process. She tried to make sense of the torrent of words.

"Maya, don't you think you're being a little. . . dramatic?" Miya inquired cautiously, lowering her hands now that it was clear she wasn't in physical danger.

"Dramatic?" Maya demanded. "Miya, this is life or death! Riley and Farkle are two-thirds of my sanity. I'm already losing it because Riley turned into this dark little rain cloud and—" she paused, gesturing wildly at the brunette wig, "—if I have to put this on to become her to fix this, I will."

Miya sighed. She stayed still, a part of her feeling that if she moved, she would further frighten a cornered predator. "Maya, I get that you're upset, but people change. It's natural. Okay, so maybe Riley's is a bit more forced, but Farkle— maybe he likes having a different style. You can't expect him to stay the same forever. Have you considered that?"

The blonde's expression hardened as she glared at the other girl. Although school had never been her strong suit, she certainly wasn't stupid. She'd seen Miya's own change happen ever since the yearbook fiasco started. She'd caught her friend gazing dreamily a few times at Farkle after his transformation, though she hid it well— and maybe didn't even realize it herself. In her panic, she latched onto this reasoning to use it as a defense mechanism against Miya's sound logic.

She used her words as weapons as she took a step back, accusing the brunette: "but this isn't just change. This is pretending. He's pretending to be someone he's not because he thinks being Farkle isn't good enough. And that's not okay!" Her voice cracked, betraying how deeply this was affecting her. "You don't see that, do you? You're too busy looking at him and you don't even care if he's happy."

Miya's eyes widened in shock. "Excuse me? That is not why I'm saying this!" she objected, fully aware of the heat that was rising to her cheeks. "I just think that if Farkle's happy being different— although, granted, 'Donnie' is a stupid name— then maybe we should respect that instead of forcing him to go back to something he clearly doesn't want."

"Happy?" Maya scoffed, her voice full of disbelief. "He's not happy, Miya. He's just scared. He thinks if he stops being 'Farkle,' he won't get hurt again. But that's not true. And deep down, you know it." She leaned in, her blue eyes locking onto Miya's with a laser focus. "You're just scared, too. Scared that if he goes back to being himself, you won't have this weird crush on him anymore. Isn't that right?"

Miya's jaw dropped, her face a mix of shock and indignation. She wasn't even sure that she had a crush on him! She had eyes! She could see when someone was attractive! And they'd simply been opened to include Farkle in that category. That meant nothing.

"That's not fair, Maya," she countered, her voice low but steady. "I just want him to do what makes him happy. And you're so caught up in your idea of who Farkle should be that you can't see he's trying to grow. Maybe this is who he is now. Did you ever think of that?"

Maya's hands fell to her sides, the wig dangling limply from her fingers. For a moment, she looked utterly lost. "No," she retorted firmly. "Because I don't believe it. I know Farkle. The real Farkle. And this isn't him. He's not Donnie Barnes. He's not 'cool.' He's. . . him. I respected your use of 'name-twin power' yesterday," she reminded the Asian girl bitterly. "But I see now that it doesn't go both ways. Fine. I'll do this myself, just like I always have."

Miya sighed heavily, bending down to pick up her fallen books. "Maya, this isn't something you can fix by putting on a wig and pretending to be someone else. If Farkle's going to figure out who he is, he needs to do it on his own and all we can do is support him as much as we can. And Riley. . ." She shrugged awkwardly, not quite sure how to explain the brunette's transformation, which seemed more of a backlash than a true desire to change. "I'll see you in class, Maya."

With that, she closed her locker and turned away from the blonde to enter the History classroom. As expected, 'Donnie Barnes' was still very much present— this, she had known from the minute she had sat down to breakfast with Farkle that morning. But, unlike her friends, she did not roll her eyes or scold him for 'not being himself.' Instead, she simply smiled at him and received one in response as she went to take her usual seat behind her best friend.

Unfortunately, Lucas was bound for disappointment as he covered his eyes upon walking into the room. "Please be back to normal. Please be back to normal."

"I'm Donnie Barnes," Farkle greeted him.

He groaned, though his frustration was soon to become more apparent as Riley walked in. He stared at her, feeling dread settle in his stomach as the situation only got worse. "What the. . ."

She was just as Maya had described: wearing only black, her eyes more heavily outlined in makeup than usual. She'd even cut her hair, her bangs looking like she'd done them herself. Riley moved theatrically to her seat, forcing an air of gracefulness as she sat down. "Life is what we do between nothings."

Miya couldn't help it. She face-palmed.

Lucas seemed to have trouble coming to terms with what was happening. "Is this a New York thing, or what is this? Maya?" he questioned, turning to Riley's best friend with the hope of an explanation.

He would once again be disappointed to find the blonde's desk empty. As if summoned by the sound of her name, the girl appeared in the doorway. She'd put her wig on and the brown locks fell down to her shoulders, accentuating her 'Riley-ness.' She beamed just like her best friend would. "Lollipops and circuses and things that rhyme with that."

"No!" he cried, exasperated. "This is your solution, Maya?"

"Hi," she breathed out, her eyes taking on a dreamy look. What a hypocrite, Miya thought.

"Hey," Lucas answered, just like he would if she were really Riley.

"Hi."

"No!" the Texan exclaimed again, forcing himself out of his stupor. He shook himself as he went to his seat.

Cory was last to join them, his hand over his eyes the same way Lucas had done. "Please be back to normal. Please be back to normal."

Farkle nodded at him coolly. "What's up, hambone?"

"Don't worry, daddy. I'm going to fix everybody right up," Maya spoke up brightly.

The curly-haired man took one look at her dressed as his daughter and screamed. Lucas had had enough. He smacked his hands on his desk pointedly as he stood, then stalked to the front of the classroom. "Alright, you know what? It's Lucas time. You're the best Farkle we got and everyone knows it." He pointed at Riley. "And you are a complete ray of sunshine." His finger moved to indicate Maya. "And you are not. And that's who we are. I don't know what this is, but I do know that if you let someone say who you are, then you really won't be who you are, and you certainly won't end up being who you were meant to be."

Mr. Matthews leaned over to tell the teen quietly, "if you end this with Iceland or Greenland, I'll give you an a on the report right now. Because you and Miya are the only ones in here I recognize."

"Hang on," Miya cut in, also rising to her feet. She felt her face heat up as everyone's gazes fell on her, but she steeled herself against the discomfort. Her friends' creative freedom was far more important. "That's a contradiction. You're saying that they shouldn't let anyone tell them who they are, yet what do you think you just did? You're putting them in a box: Farkle has to be smart, Riley has to be happy and Maya has to be pessimistic."

Lucas frowned, looking a bit defensive. "But they're not being themselves. They're just trying to be something they're not."

"Maybe they are being themselves," Miya shot back. "You ever think of that? Or maybe they're figuring it out. Either way, it's not for you— or any of us— to decide. Trust me, I know what it's like to be shoved into a box and told, 'this is who you are. This is who you'll always be.' It doesn't feel great, Lucas. And it's definitely not fair."

Farkle tilted his head, intrigued, while Riley gave Miya an approving, if dramatically somber, nod. Maya did her best to pretend like she wasn't listening, still holding a grudge from earlier when the Asian girl had denied her help.

Lucas looked taken aback but didn't interrupt, so Miya pressed on. "It doesn't mean they're lost forever. It just means they're just trying to make sense of what's happening."

Maya piped up, breaking her faux-Riley demeanor with a smirk. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna stay Riley. I know how much everybody would miss me if I did."

"No, no," a classmate chimed in. "Stay Riley."

Any progress that Miya seemed to have made vanished as Maya turned to the girl who had spoken. Another one agreed, "yeah, you're a good Riley!"

"Wait. You like us all like this?" the blonde questioned them.

The brunette behind her shrugged. "We like Riley. We don't care who plays her."

"What about Maya?" she hissed.

Riley, doing her best to stay emo, monotoned, "nothing we do matters."

"Maya, you're the most secure person in this room," Lucas reminded her desperately. "You have a great life. Why would you change?" He paused as he reconsidered his words, then admitted, "I mean, okay, not great life. I mean, your family life could be, you know, better. But at least at school, you're, uh. . . you're here a lot. Right?" He turned to Miya pleadingly. "Little help, please?"

She held up her hands. "We've already had a disagreement today. This one's all yours."

"Donnie Barnes?" the Texan called hopefully.

Farkle shook his head. "I think people should be the best person they can be."

"I agree," Maya stated. "Riley Matthews is the best person I can be. Maya is gone, and you're never gonna see her again." She opened her yearbook and rested her head on her hands, humming quietly to herself, sing-songing things that she thought Riley would. "World peace— and bunnies!"

Lucas paced around the room as he tried to get things back under control. "Alright, you all say I'm most likely to be okay with anything. Well, I'm not okay with any of this. I'm not okay with all you guys not realizing that what you say about people matters," he addressed the class, then spoke to his friends: "and I'm not okay with you guys thinking what people say about you matters."

Miya sighed, unable to stay quiet any longer as Lucas's words hung in the air. "Lucas, what people say about you does matter. It's not always right, and it's not always fair, but it still affects how you see yourself. That's why labels like the ones in the yearbook can be so powerful— and so dangerous."

Lucas turned to her accusingly. "So what? You're saying they should just let those labels define them?"

"No," she replied firmly. "I'm saying they should decide what those labels mean for themselves. You can't just tell them to ignore it and go back to who they were like nothing happened. That's not how it works."

"Both of you are right," Mr. Matthews told them and they spun to face him in surprise. He continued, heedless of their reaction: "you know what happened after everybody went to Greenland because someone told them to? Donnie?"

"Riley?" Farkle asked.

"Black Swan?" Maya added with a smile.

"They all died," she responded emotionlessly.

"Yep," her father answered.

Her head snapped around to look at him. "What? Really?"

"Really," he confirmed. "They came to an inhospitable, uninhabited ice ball named Greenland because someone said it was pretty, and the first thing they did was die. The jerks! So please remember, you shouldn't pay attention to what everybody says. Because if you listen to everybody else, you just might end up crashing your little ships onto the rocks.

"But," he continued, nodding in Miya's direction, "that's the history that happened. It can't be changed. What matters is how we responded to it. The next people who travelled there learned and grew from the previous experiences. They began to understand how to survive in both the unforgiveable climates and those that were more hospitable. Now, there are populations on both Iceland and Greenland. While some ships may still crash on the shore occasionally, more often than not, they find their way home."

"That's why, if you have to listen to someone, then you should listen to the people who care about you," Lucas put in, looking over at Farkle pointedly. "Because they have your best interests at heart. Right, buddy? You're much more than just a regular guy."

"But you also don't have to be a super genius if you want to try something else out," Miya reminded him.

Maya awed at his sentiment. "Lucas, you're a very sweet guy. That's why I always liked you since I fell into your lap on the subway. It's why we should have been favorite couple, because we're so much alike. You know, it's like we're two sunshine-y people from the same sunshine-y family. That's why I like you so much. It's like you're my brother." She froze and her eyes widened. "Oh. It's like he's your. . ."

"What?" Riley wondered, alarmed by her friend's reaction.

"Whoa. . ."

"What just happened?" she wanted to know.

Maya yanked off the brunette wig, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest. "Uh, nothing. Nothing happened. I don't wanna be Riley anymore. Only you're Riley. I'm Maya. We don't care what you say. We're not crashing our ships. Come back. Come back right now."

The blonde's voice wavered slightly as she hurried to cover her slip up. She crumpled the wig in her hands, using it as a distraction to avoid looking at Riley directly. It's fine. It's fine. Just keep talking. Don't think about it too much.

But her thoughts betrayed her, racing faster than she could suppress them. Why did that bother me so much? She'd always thought of Riley as family— a sister, her other half. They'd been inseparable since the day they met, practically breathing the same air. It was a bond as natural as the sunrise, something she'd never questioned.

Until now.

She'd never had the chance to compare her feelings with anyone else's. There had always been just Riley for her. But now, in Riley's mindset, she had her best friend's feelings for Lucas to project. They contrasted with her own. The sibling bond she had unexpectedly identified between Lucas and Riley was not the same thing she had always thought she'd felt for the brunette. . . and that scared Maya more than anything.

🌎🌎🌎

The ride back to the Minkus' penthouse was quieter for Miya and Farkle than it had been the day before. Everything that had been addressed in the classroom had given the genius a lot to think about, so Miya left him to it and tried to focus on her homework. However, after a couple hours it became clear that she was in no state to concentrate— something that was already hard for her to do on a normal day. So, using her GPS Minkus tracker on her phone, she located Farkle on the very top floor: the veranda that overlooked the entire city.

She took the elevator up to the level. When she stepped out, wind whipped her shoulder-length dark hair around her face and she tucked it behind her ears to keep it out of the way. She walked over to where he was sitting on the perimeter of the balcony with his feet dangling over the edge as he leaned against the support pole for the railing.

Miya mirrored his position and let her legs kick carelessly against the building beneath them. The city lights glittered like a sea of stars below, and the cool evening air was heavy with the hum of distant traffic. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable— it was the kind of quiet that only existed between people who truly understood each other.

Finally, Farkle broke the silence: "you're the only one who hasn't tried to change me back. Are you really okay with all of this? With the changes I'm going through?"

Miya hesitated briefly before she answered, "I'm okay with you trying new things. As long as you're happy, I'm happy." She smiled softly. "But. . . can I ask for one thing?"

"Anything," Farkle concurred immediately, though his voice held a note of caution.

"Can I still call you Farkle?" she pleaded, her tone light but sincere. "Not because I'm trying to hold you back or anything. It's just. . . Farkle is who I became best friends with. And, honestly, I like your real name a lot better than your fake one."

Farkle blinked, clearly flattered. He felt a warmth spread across his chest at her honesty. He hadn't expected her to be so candid— and certainly not so supportive. Her words left him a little flustered, more than he was willing to admit. He wasn't sure what it meant, but something inside him stirred at the thought of her liking him for who he really was. "I. . . I guess I can drop the whole 'Donnie' thing then," he reasoned, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. "But I want to keep experimenting. Trying new things, y'know? Just. . . not with the name."

Miya smiled, relieved. "I'm perfectly fine with that, Farkle. You don't have to stick to one version of yourself. You'll always have my support, no matter what." She weighed her options, then gathered her courage to speak again, her voice quieter. "Hey, Farkle. . . do you wanna know what category the yearbook put me in?"

He looked at her, his expression steady. "Nothing you say is gonna make me respect you any less, Miya."

She looked at him, her heart starting to race in her chest (she noticed that he used her name, not his nickname for her, as a sign of his earnestness.) She took a deep breath and then confessed: "most likely to flunk out of high school."

Farkle's blue eyes sparked, a righteous outrage appearing on his face. "Wait, what?"

Miya let out a small laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear again. "Yeah. I don't exactly fit the 'genius Asian' stereotype, do I? And my dyslexia doesn't help either."

Farkle furrowed his brow, his voice sincere. "That's ridiculous. Who even decides these categories?"

Miya shrugged, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "People who don't get it, I guess. But honestly, it doesn't bother me as much as it used to. It just. . . it still stings sometimes, y'know? Being judged before you even get a chance. That's why I was so adamant for you guys to be able to define yourselves, for yourselves."

He nodded, understanding now where she was coming from. "I'm glad you were."

After a beat, Miya exhaled and questioned him teasingly, "you still want to take over the world?"

Farkle's lips curled into a grin, his usual confidence coming back as he straightened up a little. "I want to take over myself first," he decided, a hint of determination in his voice. "But then, yeah, the world. I'm not stopping until I do."

Miya laughed at how very Farkle his response was. "Well, I'm right here next to you," she promised.

The genius' expression softened and he turned his head to meet her eyes. "Thanks," he said sincerely. "I never want that to change."

Miya felt her chest tighten, but in a good way. Her heart beat a little faster as she leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence beside her. For a moment, everything else faded away, and it was just her and Farkle.

A/n: I don't know how popular the Rilaya ship is, but tbh I don't really like Joshaya, so I wanted to change things up a bit. Imo, Riley and Maya had the most chemistry out of all the pairings and totally should've been a couple, so I'm at least going to include some of that here— although I'm not sure if I'll make them official or not (unless that's something you guys really want to see?) I know I did a poll at the beginning of the book for who you'd want to end up together of the main cast but the more I think about it, I really like what I've come up with for my version of the Riley-Lucas-Maya love triangle 😉