“Oh, Mayabushka!” Mrs. Hart smiled before dropping the accent and returning to her usual self. She rushed to Maya and, embracing her, said, “I’m gonna be here all the time now, baby girl! How great is that?”
Maya was almost too pained to look at Riley, but she tried. Her best friend returned the look of complete agony. With these new developments, it was pretty much official: the best year ever had turned into the worst year ever.
Maya and Riley straightened themselves up and prepared for a difficult, but necessary, conversation with their parents.
“Mom,” Maya began, “you can’t be here.”
“Dad, Mom, you’re everywhere,” Riley chimed in, looking at her parents.
“We just need some space,” Maya explained.
“It’s like you’re circling around us,” Riley added.
Mr. and Mrs. Matthews’s faces clouded over with confusion. “I’m sorry,” Mr. Matthews said. “You think we’re circling around you?”
“Yes.” Riley nodded.
“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Matthews smirked as she turned to Mr. Matthews. “So, I guess we’re all done with parenting?”
“Yes, it seems we’re all done with that part now!” Mr. Matthews grabbed his wife’s hand and pumped it up and down. “Good job, Topanga!”
“Good job, Cory!” Mrs. Matthews laughed. “Remember that whole potty training thing that we did for her? And now she wants to leave….”
“Oh, I loved every minute of that. Good times!” Mr. Matthews shook his head and chuckled as they reminisced.
“So, you’re okay with this?” Riley wasn’t entirely convinced.
“Oh, yeah, we understand,” Mrs. Matthews assured her. “You’re a grown-up. You know everything there is to know.”
“Yup, you’re ready to move away,” Mr. Matthews agreed.
Wait. What?
“Well, I mean, I’d like to stay in my old bedroom….” Riley wasn’t sure this was headed in exactly the direction she’d intended.
“Okay, you’ll just drop us a line when you get married and have kids?” Mrs. Matthews asked.
“Mom, I just don’t want you to be everywhere.”
“Okay, well, when you need us, we’ll be at home,” Mrs. Matthews assured Riley as Mr. Matthews held up his hands and backed away.
“And I’ll be back there,” Mrs. Hart said to Maya, motioning behind the counter of the bakery, “staying out of your way.”
“Okay.” Maya shrugged.
“Good. So nobody feels bad about this,” Riley said, attempting to get a bit more clarification on the matter.
“Well, let’s see what happens,” Mr. Matthews said with a quick smile.
Riley wasn’t totally sure she should accept that, but what else could she do? As she and Maya went and sat down in a booth, Mrs. Svorski went to the counter to talk to Mrs. Hart. “So, you here now?” she asked her.
“I’m here now.” Mrs. Hart smiled.
“Good.” Mrs. Svorski nodded. Then she turned around to give Auggie an affectionate pinch on the cheek.
“Ready?” Mrs. Matthews asked Auggie, taking him by the hand. He nodded, picking up the flour shaker Mrs. Svorski had given to him, before glancing around the bakery and heading to the door with his parents. As they made their way out, they paused and looked back inside at Mrs. Svorski, who was wandering around and gazing at the pictures, so full of history—her history—hanging on the walls.
“So,” Riley said to Maya as they sat in the booth.
“Here we are,” Maya replied with a smile.
“Kings,” Riley said.
But somehow, she wasn’t feeling very regal.
Riley stood in front of an image of the earth slowly rotating.
“The sun doesn’t go around the earth,” Riley said. “We’re the ones moving. We orbit the sun. Because we need it. We need its light and its heat. And if it wasn’t there, we’d be dark and alone.”
Just then, the images behind Riley faded to black. She stepped away from the screen where she had been speaking—where she had, in fact, been giving a eulogy—and walked to an easel, where a large photograph of a smiling Mrs. Svorski perched.
“I wasn’t in Mrs. Svorski’s orbit for very long,” Riley said to the roomful of friends and loved ones who were gathered in the bakery, “and I missed out on someone wonderful. My brother knew better. He was her very good friend.”
Riley looked at Auggie, who sat at a table in his little gray suit, devastated, clutching the flour shaker Mrs. Svorski had given him. Riley’s parents stood behind Auggie, trying to hold it together. Riley walked to Maya, who was seated at a table with Mrs. Hart, Lucas, and Farkle, and brought her to the front of the room, where Riley had been speaking.
“We think that we’re the center of the universe,” Riley said, still clutching Maya’s hand, as the screen behind them lit up again with images of the heavens. “But the truth is we need to circle the ones we love for as long as they’re here.”
At that, Maya stepped away from Riley, walked to Mrs. Hart, and hugged her mother harder than she ever had in her life. Following her best friend’s lead, Riley walked to her parents and Auggie and circled her arms around them.
“We need to hold them close, because no matter how far we travel, they are the ones who hold us in place. It’s gravity. Without it, we would all just float away from each other,” Riley said before walking back up to the screen, which flashed images of New York City, followed by Earth and the solar system, more galaxies, and the vastness of the universe.
“We’re not kings at all. Just tiny little specks. My name is Riley Matthews. From New York City, the United States of America, continent of North America, Western Hemisphere, Earth, the solar system, the universe. The mind of God. That’s from Our Town. My father’s favorite play.” Riley looked at her father, who beamed with pride. “Just for a moment we’re all together,” Riley continued. “Let’s really look at one another.” She gazed out at her family, who looked back at her. Maya looked up at her mother, who stared down lovingly at her, stroking her hair.
“Good night, Mrs. Svorski,” Riley said, looking fondly at the photograph one last time.
As Mr. and Mrs. Matthews stared into each other’s eyes, Riley walked to Auggie, picked him up, and sat him on her lap, hugging him tightly.
“Good job, Riley,” Auggie told her.
“I know you’re gonna miss her, buddy,” Riley replied.
“She gave me her flour shaker,” Auggie said, holding up the metal canister and handing it to his big sister.
“That’s really nice,” Riley said, admiring the gift and giving it a shake. “What’s inside?” Pulling out a piece of paper, Riley said, “It’s a note. Maybe she wrote you a note.”
Auggie looked down at the slip of paper and could almost hear Mrs. Svorski’s voice in his head as he read the words: “‘It’s not my-krainian bakery. I’m dead!’”
Auggie was horrified at first, but then he couldn’t help laughing. He knew that was the reaction that would have made Mrs. Svorski happy. Then, suddenly, everyone around him started laughing, too. A bakery filled with laughter. Mrs. Svorski would have really loved that.
Auggie turned to look up at Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. “I love you guys,” he said softly, and they all hugged each other.
Back at the apartment, everyone but Mr. Matthews was asleep. He walked into the living room, where moonlight streamed in through the windows, and sat down on the couch, scrolling through the numbers on his phone until he found the one he was looking for.
“Hello, Mr. Matthews,” came the weary old voice on the other end of the line after a couple of rings.
“Hey, Mr. Feeny. You doing okay?”
“Yes, Cory,” the longtime teacher from his childhood replied. “I’m still here.”
“Great,” Mr. Matthews said with a smile. “That’s great.”
Knowing that Mr. Feeny was still around was all it took to give him a bit of peace—to reassure him that, for all the ways in wh
ich his world was still changing, in which his family’s world was changing, there were parts of it that hadn’t. Not completely, anyway.
Riley and Maya stood at their lockers. It was a brand-new day of an almost brand-new school year, and Riley was feeling good. Finally.
“Y’know what I like?” Riley asked Maya as she slammed her locker door, then quickly snapped her fingers. “Life! And I like it when it doesn’t change. We should sing our happy song.”
“We don’t have a happy song,” Maya pointed out, furrowing her brow.
“We should have a happy song!” Riley replied as they made their way to first period.
“We will never have a happy song,” Maya fired back firmly.
“Not with that attitude,” Riley noted, ever the yin to Maya’s yang. Or was it yang to Maya’s yin? The details didn’t really matter. The point was that they balanced each other out. It was one of the many things Riley loved about their best friendship. It was something she could count on—and she liked being able to count on things.
“So you don’t want anything to change?” Maya asked as they walked into history class and headed for their desks.
“Nooo,” Riley confirmed, sitting down. “Don’t like change. Change fills my pockets with pennies of uncertainty.”
As Maya shot yet another puzzled look in Riley’s direction, their classmates settled into their seats and Mr. Matthews began talking to the class. “All right, so, shall we actually, finally learn about what happened in Belgium in 1831?”
“No!” Farkle barked defiantly.
“No?” Mr. Matthews asked, dumbfounded. It was a little odd. Farkle was always ready to learn.
“I always get my hopes up and then something happens to hurt my little Farkle heart,” the ginger-haired boy, clad in one of his trademark turtlenecks—this one green—under an orange-and-blue-striped rugby shirt, explained. “Well, this time I refuse to believe.”
“In 1831…” Mr. Matthews began in a tantalizing voice, clearly trying to coax Farkle out of his cynical shell.
“Yeeesss?” It sure didn’t take much to reel Farkle back in. “Wait!” he said to Riley when she turned to look at him. “Anything suddenly going to happen to you?”
“No changes. Lovin’ life,” Riley insisted.
“Anything going to happen to you?” Farkle asked, turning to Lucas.
“Nothing ever happens to me,” Lucas replied.
“Maya?” Farkle asked, turning to look at Maya. But she was crashed out, head on desk, actually snoring. Seeing her asleep, Farkle shivered, a bit too riled up with excitement. “Omigosh! This is it!”
Unfazed, Mr. Matthews returned to his lesson. “In 1831, Belgium—”
But before he could go any further, yet again he was interrupted—this time by a new student walking through the door.
“What?” the boy asked as he marched into the room, puffing up his chest with confidence. “Y’all started without me?”
“Get out!” Farkle growled, jumping to his feet. His eyes widened like he’d been possessed, his voice so loud and angry that even Maya woke up and turned her attention toward the new student.
“Somebody in this room is going to be very surprised to see me,” said the boy. He had a mesmerizing smile and dark skin that practically glowed against his aqua-blue-and-yellow plaid shirt.
“Is it me?” Riley asked, captivated.
“No, sugar, but could you be any cuter?” the boy replied, his dark eyes locking with hers.
“Well, I can’t answer that,” Riley managed to respond, even though the boy’s extreme charm was making her feel a little dizzy.
“You got a transcript, kid?” Mr. Matthews interrupted the moment.
“Yeah, I do,” said the boy, handing a manila folder to Riley’s dad. “And hey, check out them grades. Here, let me sing them to you.” He got into position, like he was about to audition for a singing competition, and then sang out, “De de de de de, de—ef.”
“Yeah, I know that song,” Maya said with a smile.
“‘Isaiah Babineaux,’” Mr. Matthews read from the paper in the folder. “From Austin, Texas.”
Wait a second. Austin, Texas? Riley thought. Was it possible that this new guy and Lucas knew each other? Riley, along with every other student, turned to look at Lucas, obviously putting the same Austin-plus-Austin equation together—and the answer, based on the look of frustration on Lucas’s face, was a clear yes.
“What are you doing here, Zay?” Lucas asked glumly.
“Well, the first thing I’m doin’ is waitin’ for a better reaction from you.”
“Maya, something’s changing,” Riley muttered to her best friend, not liking the direction things appeared to be taking.
“Okay, Mr. Teach, where do I sit?” Isaiah asked, leaning against Mr. Matthews’s desk, scoping out the classroom. “You know, usually I’m more of a back-row kind of guy.”
Back-row Brenda, peering at the new guy through her giant red-framed glasses, looked like she might explode with excitement as she waved enthusiastically in his direction.
“Whoa.” Isaiah squinted at Brenda, examining her more closely. “That’s unusual.”
“Have a seat right there, Mr. Babineaux,” Mr. Matthews said, motioning to the desk behind Lucas.
Riley turned. “Lucas, you know this Isaiah?” she inquired.
“Yeah, tell ’em—you know me good,” Isaiah said, sitting on top of his desk instead of in the seat.
“How ’bout we talk later, okay?” Lucas replied, clearly not in the mood to explain their relationship to anyone—then or perhaps ever.
Isaiah, or “Zay,” got the message, raising his hands in defeat and backing off.
“Well, Mr. Babineaux, if you work out as well as last year’s new student,” Mr. Matthews said, motioning to Lucas, “we’re happy to have you.”
“Wait, what?” Zay seemed surprised. “Lucas, you’re doing okay here?”
“Why wouldn’t he be doing okay here?” Riley asked.
“Not currently on probation?” Zay continued his line of questioning. “No disciplinary action? They just let you wander free?”
What is he talking about? Riley thought. Lucas? Disciplinary action? Does Zay have Lucas mixed up with someone else?
“Sit down!” Farkle growled in the same demon-crazed voice he’d used earlier, which was terrifying enough that Zay finally retreated to his seat. Eager to seize the moment, Farkle turned to Mr. Matthews and, in a calm and happy voice, added, “Okay. New guy’s all settled in and there’s still class time left. So do it! Do it while I’m still tingly!”
“So,” Mr. Matthews said, laughing, as he followed Farkle’s direction, “in 1831, Belgium declared its—”
But yet again, he was interrupted. This time it was Yogi, their quiet little classmate who never said anything. “What is the secret of life?” Yogi asked.
Everyone turned to glare at Yogi, Farkle especially. “I’m sorry, Mr. Farkle,” the dark-haired boy said with a soft smile, closing his eyes and clenching his fists intently before rising to his feet, opening his eyes, and addressing Mr. Matthews. “I know I am not your daughter, but I, too, have value in this world. What is the secret of life?”
Sighing, Mr. Matthews looked at Farkle and flung up his hands in defeat. Laughing apologetically, he grabbed the eraser from the chalkboard and headed for the large letters spelling out BELGIUM, 1831.
“Don’t do it!” Farkle half begged, half commanded Mr. Matthews, who stopped and turned to look at Farkle. “Put that eraser down and nobody gets hurt!”
But Mr. Matthews took eraser to board. Just like that, the day’s lesson—and all hope of the class’s avoiding change—disappeared.
“HUWAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!” Farkle screamed a possessed scream, pulling his rugby shirt up to hide his entire head, which he then slammed on the desk.
Wow. Guess I’m not the only one around here who doesn’t like change, Riley thought.
“Yogi has asked the
primary riddle of the universe,” Mr. Matthews told the class. “What is the secret of life? People spend their whole lives trying to figure it out. I was lucky. I had a teacher who cared enough about me to make sure I knew. Lucas. You got an opinion on this?”
“Yeah, whaddya got, Mr. Moral Compass?” Maya asked, turning in her chair to look at Lucas.
“Did you just call Lucas Friar your moral compass?” Zay asked with an incredulous laugh, slapping Lucas on the back. “Ha! They just called you moral compass!”
Lucas turned and stared Zay down until, once again, Zay retreated—this time with a soft “okay.”
“Something bad is happening, Maya,” Riley whispered to her best friend. But Maya seemed more intrigued than upset.
“Yeah, it occurs to me you’re trying to tell us Ranger Rick was a little different back in Texas,” Maya said to Zay.
“A little?” Zay replied, then addressed Lucas. “What do they know exactly? ’Cause I wouldn’t wanna say anything wrong. They know you’re a year older, right?”
“Yeah, now they do,” Lucas said awkwardly, turning around to glare at Zay.
“Oh, yeah, it’s my fault,” Zay replied—and then, as if it should already have been obvious to everyone there, he added, “Look at ya!”
Wait. What? It can’t be true. Can it? Lucas—a year older than the rest of us? A year older than me? Riley thought.
“Okay, that’s enough, Mr. Babineaux,” Mr. Matthews said.
“Oh, so you know about him?” Zay asked the teacher.
“I know all about Mr. Friar,” Mr. Matthews replied, his voice soft and sad.
There’s no way this is happening. Not only is Lucas a year older than us—than me—but my dad already knows something else about him? Riley’s palms were sweating; her heart was racing. She was sure she was going to pass out at any second.
“Excuse me?” Riley finally managed to say, turning to stare at her father.
“Riley, you’re shaking,” Maya said, but Riley needed to focus on her dad, to find out exactly what he’d heard—and kept from her.
“Dad, you know something?”
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