First day written, first day publish. Edited.
I am back and ready to write. I know you guys are really angry with me right now. Just because the books i was finishing is gone and you really liked them. Im sorry and i hope i am forgiven.
IF you are first visiting my account make sure to click the follow the button and for those of you who been here with me since day one, thank you for not unfollowing.
I am not, i repeat, i am not putting the original characters of girl meets world in this book. ONLY Lucas and Maya. I'm just putting my imagination in this book. I don't wanna put Riley in this book or anyone else from gmw. I might put Riley but let's just see how this goes. Please no hate. You might as well stop reading if you hate my decision.
As long as there's lucaya then i dont care about the characters. Now let's read.....
•••
Chapter 1 - Last year of school
Today wasn't the most exciting day for me, unlike most squealing, dressed up, packed up girly girls and decked out, polished, cologned up rich boys. I saw them reunite with their friends and linger at the main entrance of the posh school. Like, I'm aware wealthy people went here since they can afford it, but I can't imagine how much money was collected for back to school shopping. Probably a whole lot more than the normal, public school I had wanted to go to since people there, for once, were not egoistic jerks.
"Well, look at all those amazing people! I can't wait till they see your hair today," my mother said, trying to engage me. There were still ten minutes until the bell rang, so I decided to stay in our blue Lamborghini not to bring myself much attention. I was forced to dress nicely and do my hair for just that day. My mom tapped her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. "Honey, go out there. You're friends are waiting for you."
You missed something mom: I don't have any friends.
"Maya, I have to go to work," my mother interrupted my thoughts. "I said I'll be there at 8:10 am sharp, I can't be late." I sighed. My parents were totally oblivious to the nonsense happening at school for three years. Welcome to one more torturing year. I just didn't want to involve them into the mess I'm in.
"Fine," I said. "But can you go drop me at the back of the school?" My mom gave me a questioning look, but she did as I asked. I really didn't want to make an appearance with the Lamborghini.
"Good luck," my mom said, and pecked my cheek. "I love you lots!" I grabbed my backpack and quickly walked outside. Before I entered the school, I put on my hoodie and went directly to the washroom. I opened my backpack and took out my printed schedule which still smelled of expensive ink.
I had Music last. It was my favorite subject since the only thing I had to interact with was my guitar. I think it's still in the music room somewhere. I had all my worst subjects before lunch and groaned loudly. When the bell rang, I reluctantly walked out while adjusting my hoodie. There were already kids storming through the hallways and I just rammed through tiny spaces trying to get to math class.
"Oh my, look who it is," someone said out of no where. I was grabbed by one shoulder and stopped in the middle of the hallway. It was Brigit, the school's official popular female and gossip‐girl. "I love your hair and your dress. Why don't you take that sweater off so you can show off some more?" she said sweetly, with a coffee mug in one hand. I tried to get through but her grip was firm, her nails digging into my shoulder. "You know it's very rude to‐"
"Brigit, I don't have time for you right now," I said looking directly into her eyes. "I'm getting late for class."
"Oh, what a pity," she said, sighing. She brought the mug over my head and tipped it over. I opened my mouth in surprise. She always had something to dump on me. "Hm, wouldn't want to finish all my coffee on you.," she said, walking away. I stood there completely stunned, with two options in mind: appear in front of everyone with coffee in my hair but not get late, or go clean up and get late.
I put on my hoodie and ran to my math class. Cleaning up would bring no new impression on me either way. Unfortunately, I was late none the less as I entered the large classroom filled with 30 students watching me step in, and a displeased teacher.
"You're. Late," she punctuated. A couple of students snickered and I rolled my eyes. "I saw what you did there with your eyes, young lady. And please put down your hoodie, it's not proper manners." My jaw tightened as I took it off and the snickers turned into laughter as the teacher looked at me like I was a horror show
"Looks like someone's mouth was on their head to drink coffee," a student said and everyone cracked up.
"I don't even drink caffeine, smartass," I said. While the teacher shook her head, I walked all the way to the back of the classroom. I was sticky for the rest of the period, and all I did was look out the window as the sunshine skirted over the streets. I already knew everyone so the introductions didn't impact me that much.
It was like this for bio...for English...and finally lunch. I had to go through some of the most obnoxious people, including Brigit, and I was glad I was able to clean myself to save myself the embarrassment. At lunch, I wasn't surprised to see the usual commotion at that particular table near the large window in the cafeteria. It's where the pops ﴾as I call them﴿ usually sit, Brigit, Dexter, Zac, Aspen, Becky, Cyrus.
And oh my God, Lucas.
He's like a magnet to every girl and he knows it. He's probably the richest, too, with those two ears pierced and blonde hair. His fame annoyed me to death sometimes.
"What're you looking at?" said a girly voice. I pulled my gaze away from the table and turned to see Aspen, Brigit's bestfriend. "Do not even try to take Dexter away from me." I furrowed my brows as she left. First of all, I had done nothing to get Dexter's attention, and second of all, I wasn't even looking at him.
I decided to just not eat lunch and walked out of the cafeteria. I swung my bag around and walked to the empty hallway to the music room. It was empty and dark with tiny windows lined up at the top. Mr. Hanson is probably the only teacher that liked me, and the only teacher I liked back...for now.
"Well, hey, baldy!" I called, my voice echoing through the sliver of dust in a sun ray. I saw a chubby, short man turn around from the gloom and give me a toothy grin.
"Oh, Maya! Look who's early!" he said. I smiled and walked towards him. "Didn't you eat lunch?"
"Not in front of them," I said. He gave me a sympathetic smile and went to the guitar shelves. "May I have a warm up. I know I still suck at playing guitar even though I've tried for three years."
"You'll get there, don't you worry, you brunette," he said, chuckling. I am naturally blonde but i dyed my hair. He got out a ebony guitar case and put it out in front of me. "Is all yours. I have some things to check up on, so call me if you need me." I nodded and he disappeared into the music office.
I took out my white, bordered with black, electric guitar and brushed my fingers over the smooth edges. I took a stool and got into position, taking the puck and strumming a few strings. I didn't know how to play many songs, but I just liked the sound of the guitar. The slow, vibrating, melodic sound which was swift and calming. Somehow, it just made me so sad, like my heart was melting.
I started to strum strings in a random pattern, discovering a simple rhythm. My parents call me gifted for this, but I made up words that went along with any beat. I just played the same pattern over and over again for a long time while humming something random. My stomach grumbled in hunger and I breathed out, ignoring it.
"We all got nightmares in our dreams. We look for someone to believe in us," I sang in a whisper. I thought of other words and quietly sang them, too. Before I knew it, I had the chorus down and my voice was a lot certain and stronger than before. I almost wasn't aware of the voices outside of the music room. Thank god the walls were sound‐proof.
The music door opened and I immediately stopped. I saw some guy walk in with his backpack slung on one shoulder and once I adjusted to the darkness, I noticed it was Lucas. What's he doing here?! Did he hear me sing?
"Mr. Hansen!" He shouted, walking into the room. I got off the stool and quickly packed my guitar. That's when Lucas saw my moving silhouette. "Damn, it's dark in here. Who is that?"he said, squinting his eyes. I put my guitar case back on the shelf as he went to the light switches. I had disappeared into the music office before he turned back around. My heart was beating way too fast.
"Oh, hey," Mr. Hansen said, looking up from his music sheets. "Did you need something?" I took a few breaths and looked around for words.
"Um, someone's here for you," I said. "And I...uh, I need a band‐aid. Yeah, I cut my finger."
"Oh, okay," he said, opening a drawer and giving me a band‐aid. "Be more careful, alright?" He went into the music room and I sighed in relief. I heard voices and I wrapped the bandage around my imaginary cut.
I stayed in there until Mr. Hansen came back.
"Well, need anything else?" he said. I shook my head slowly. "Alright, off you go then. You're not typically allowed in here." I pinched my eyes and sighed. Whatever, who cares if Lucas saw me?
I heard the guitar being played softly as I exited, slowly and quietly somewhere in the music room, and I leaned back on a shelf. I predicted it was Lucas playing it, since he did everything perfectly. He was playing it like it was a piece of cake.
Slowly, I was being pulled into the song and just as I was about to have a peace‐session right then and there, the bell rang. I still hid behind the shelves until everybody came for that class.
Once everyone was settled and Mr. Hansen came back, I sat somewhere at the back of the crowd, preparing myself for another boring introduction. My mind kept going back to the song; it made me feel in bliss. It was one of the reasons why I had my heart set on playing the guitar. But I just suck at it. I was just one of those unlucky people that was different from everybody else.
I stayed after school to not walk through those filled hallways, and Mr. Hansen was okay with it. Unfortunately, Lucas stayed back, too. I eavesdropped him and Mr. Hansen talking about how he didn't want people swarming him as he excited the building. But it was enough to annoy me to death as I found a way to hide myself from him.
I took a stool and faced the back of the music room, right up to a wall. I was lightly stroking the strings, and listening to the movement behind me as Lucas got a stool and set his playing position.
"Um, you sure you want to play like that?" I heard him call to me.
"I thought you don't talk to loners," I said bluntly, pausing my strumming.
"What?" he said laughing. "You just seem a little crazy facing the wall like that." I rolled my eyes. I speak with the most popular guy in school, and the first thing he says to me is an insult. During the whole way, I listened to him play his song while I just absently strummed my own guitar. It was so beautiful, I just couldn't stop flowing into a world of dreams and fantasies which would never come true.
Finally it was time to go. I put my hood on and blocked my face as I packed my guitaras quickly as I can. I left before Lucas even got off the stool. I had to walk home for 15 minutes since my mom and dad were too busy with work. It was only special occasions like the first day ofschool where they show me some grace and drop me off. While carrying the case, I walked out the back‐door of the school and headed home.
•••
Once I reached home, I stopped at the driveway and looked up at the building. In my opinion, it was way too big for only three people, a pool which no one really used, and a water fountain. I sighed and sat on the porch, taking my hood off and removing the guitar from mycase. I tried to play the utterly difficult song Lucas was playing earlier, but I gave up instantly.
"Hey there, destined to be a loser!" I heard someone yell. I looked over as a car slowed down in front of my house. "Forgot your keys or something?!" Even the glare of his blue car annoyed me.
"Shut that hole of your face, Dexter!" I called back in annoyance. I saw Aspen in the passenger seat glaring at me as Dexter laughed and rode off. I got up lazily and unlocked the door and slipped inside. Out of everyone else in the school, Dexter, the most obnoxious andegoistic person I've ever met, had to live in my neighborhood.
I dragged my feet on the stairs and went into my room, closing the door and fallingonto the bed. I missed my parents so much. We rarely spent any time together. I guess I was friends with my isolation. I took out my homework and got that out of the way before taking a shower. I usually spent lots of time in the shower, thinking through a lot of things. But today, I just wanted to get Brigit's coffee out of my hair before my mom found out.
I wasted four hours just playing and practicing the guitar, making up random songs and being disappointed and unsatisfied at the end. At around 9:00 pm, I left the guitar on the bed and stretched.
Wearing a top and PJ pants, I walked downstairs and grabbed a bag of chips. I went into the powder room. I ran my hand through my hair and looked at myself as I ate. I had long, brown hair that reached almost to my waist. I usually wear it in a high ponytail. Doing the summer, I had dyed it and my mom was do excited about it. I haven't cut it in years as an attempt to look less attractive for the sake of all the jealous girls at school. I'm not trying to be vain. It looked messy, was really tangled, and uneven at some parts. I wasn't necessarily fat or way too thin either, no matter how much junk food I ate.
I stashed more chips into my mouth, where somewhere in this neighborhood, a super‐sexy girl is probably eating salad or something. I sighed and walked out, going to the living roomwhere a large, ebony grand piano sat in the centre of the carpet. The piano made me so angry I wish I could stomp on the keys until they all broke off. Without taking any lessons, did I master piano perfectly, but even with years of intense practice, I still fail to play the guitar.
I put my bag of chips on the piano and licked the salt from my fingers. After getting my hands clean, I placed them on the black and white keys. I tried to collect pieces of Lucas' song and slowly played it on the piano. I sighed, closing my blue eyes and dropping my head on the piano keys, making a loud, choppy sound. I only wished to play this song on the guitar.
...
Somehow, I had dozed off because I felt someone lightly shaking me. I lifted my head, causing the keys to move and play something. My dad smiled at me as my mom took the bag of chips off of the piano.
"What were you playing?" my dad asked me eagerly. I shrugged my shoulders. They've always wanted me to become a pianist, but supported my dream of becoming a guitar player. Nonetheless, they loved it when I played the piano they bought five years ago.
"Something," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
"Can you play for us?" my mom said. I reached for the chips but she put it out of my reach. "Please?" It was those warm moments when my parents and I talked to each other and briefly had family time. So I fulfilled their wish. I played the song without much emotion, the sound echoing and bouncing off the walls. Once I was done, I stood up and my parents smiled.
"That was great!" my dad said. "We're so sorry for not being here with you, hon. We love you so much."
"I know, I love you guys, too," I said, looking at the clock. "I slept until 1 in the morning? Why'd you guys come so late today?"
"The better question is, why are you eating potato chips for dinner?" my mom countered. I rolled my eyes and walked past them. "And as for the late arrival, we had to stop by Marcello's house. We're preparing for the world business fair, isn't that exciting?"
"Well, I hope you have fun. Good night, mom and dad," I said, going back upstairs. Marcello was our best family friend who helped us a lot when we needed and who we helped alot when they needed. I've never met the rest of his family and they didn't live very far away. But whenever my parents and Marcello met up, it meant something big.
Once I closed the door to my bedroom, I sighed and walked over to the guitar. I put it away, got comfortable in my bed, and fell asleep. Another boring day in an even more boring school year.