Lucas
"Hey, Maya wait up" I catch up to her on her way out of school right after the bell rings. She looks around and smiles at me, clutching the only book she bothers to carry around to her chest. I think it's a sketch book.
"Hey Bucky McBoing Boing," she says. That's a new nick name I got when I made the mistake of showing her a picture of me in a bouncy house when I was 8. Or really, she was snooping in my house and happened upon it.
"Clutterbucket," I respond teasingly, pushing the door open and holding it for her.
"You know I can open a door on my own right?" She asks before she steps outside.
"Well, with those skinny arms I'm surprised you can do anything,"
"Shut up!" She says pushing me playfully. I laugh and resist the urge to offer to carry her book. It's a big book, but I know she'd refuse and get offended if I even brought it up.
"So you're not mad at me?" I ask. She looks up at me, obviously confused.
"Why would I be mad?"
"I don't know, this morning you seemed kind of upset with me."
Her face contorts and I can tell she knows what I'm talking about. "That wasn't towards you, just life," she stares ahead, not looking at me.
"What's going on in your life?" I ask, I know I'm being pushy, but I've grown accustomed to talking to Maya. It's easy.
"Can we just not talk about it?" She's looking down now, her voice having gone slightly quieter. Maybe it's not so easy. I stop my pushing, she'll tell me when she's ready. At least I hope she will. We walk in a comfortable silence. Being around her after two weeks of limited contact has me breathing easier. I don't know how I got so accustomed to her presence in such a short amount of time.
I try to start up a conversation a few times but she seems distracted. Or maybe she is mad at me. She won't look at me.
I walk to the subway with her, and on our stop, she rushes out before me, I don't know what to make of that, but I do know Maya well enough to know that if I want my face to stay the way it is, I shouldn't follow her.