Let's Do This!

by Disney Book Group

  Before her father could answer, Lucas spoke up. “Back in Texas—”

  “Lucas, you sure?” Mr. Matthews asked softly while Zay smiled a self-satisfied smile. Lucas nodded.

  “Back in Texas, I did something. I had to leave.”

  Nooooo! No, no, no, no, no. Lucas was perfect. He was sweet and kind and a good friend to everyone. What could he possibly have done that was so awful?

  “It was great!” Zay chimed in. “I mean, they threw him out of the whole school!”

  “What?” Riley demanded.

  “I came here to get a new start,” Lucas explained to her. “Nobody knew me here.”

  He could say that again!

  “I know him,” Zay said, raising his hand and grinning from ear to ear.

  “Do I know you?” Riley asked softly.

  But she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. It was as if everything Lucas had been, everything she wanted him to be, had been erased as easily as “BELGIUM, 1831” on the chalkboard. He had been changed into something else, like pennies of uncertainty she didn’t want or need. Just like that, she wasn’t liking life—especially its secrets—at all. And Maya was right: they definitely didn’t have a happy song.

  By the time the lunch bell rang, Riley was feeling better. She had decided there was no possible way Lucas was the guy Zay had suggested he was. She knew Lucas. He was the guy she and her friends had known for the past year. The New York Lucas. Nobody’s words—especially words from someone Lucas knew before—could change that. Because if those words were true, that would make Lucas a…No, she couldn’t even think it.

  “We don’t know the story yet,” Maya said between bites of salad, clearly unaware that Riley had already figured out the whole thing. “Let’s know the story before you go to Rileytown.”

  “I’m not going to Rileytown. I’m calm.”

  “I like it worse when you’re calm,” Maya complained. “Come on, be you!”

  Maya grabbed Riley’s arms, lifted them up, and made them flail all around her head as she did her best Riley impression, complete with an enthusiastic “Yyy­yyy­yaa­aaa­aay­yyy­yyy!”

  Riley had to laugh when pieces of food flew off the fork that was still in her hand. But then up walked Lucas, and she grew serious. “Deny it,” she told him with a kind but determined smile as he sat down at the table.

  “Riley—” Lucas said.

  “Tell me whoever this Zay kid is, he can’t just come in here and change you from the Lucas we know,” she continued, reciting the instructions she’d been practicing in her head since first period. “Tell me nothing changes.”

  “That’s all you have to do, Lucas,” Maya chimed in, backing up Riley, as she almost always did. “You hear me? I just called you by your actual name for the first time ever. That’s how important this is to me. Because it’s important to her.” Maya paused for a moment, placing a hand gently on Riley’s shoulder, and then urgently whispered, “Deny it.”

  Lucas shook his head and simply said, “I can’t.”

  Who knew those two little words could bring Riley’s whole world crashing down? She sat there for a moment, trying to wrap her head around what Lucas had just revealed.

  “I like you,” Riley finally told him, determined to be as honest as she’d ever been in her whole life. Something he, apparently, hadn’t been. “I went on my first date with you. Do you think it’s right to let me like you without telling me who you are?”

  The way he smiled when she told him she liked him nearly melted Riley’s heart. Nearly. But relationships weren’t based on smiles.

  “You know who I am,” Lucas insisted, his green eyes as sincere as they’d always been. “I’m Ranger Rick. We rode on a white horse. I asked your father’s blessing just to go on a date with you. Who does that?”

  He had a point—a lot of points. But what about the stuff Zay had said? “Were you thrown out of school?” Riley asked.

  “Yes.”

  “For a whole year?”

  “Yes.”

  “I finally like you,” Maya interjected, pointing a forkful of lettuce at him.

  “You told me you wanted to be a veterinarian,” Riley recounted. “You told me you gave birth to a horse.”

  “That had to hurt,” Maya added with a slight southern drawl.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Riley asked plainly.

  “It’s not something I’m proud of,” Lucas replied with a shrug. “I thought I could start over. I guess I was wrong. I guess you do something and that’s the end of you.”

  Lucas looked so lost and alone—like his sweet, sad story could make Riley rethink the situation. But what he was saying was ridiculous. “You think that’s what I’m upset about? Whatever you did?”

  Riley was beside herself. She wasn’t that judgmental, and Lucas of all people should know that about her. But apparently he didn’t—and that broke her heart into even tinier pieces. “Then I don’t know you,” she said, shaking her head, tears beginning to sting her eyes. “And you don’t know me.”

  “Why are you acting like this?” Lucas demanded in a raised, almost angry, voice.

  “Friends talk to you and real friends listen, remember?” she explained as calmly as she could, recalling one of the very first real conversations they’d had. “I would have listened. I’m your friend. Whatever you did, why wouldn’t you trust me with it? People who care about you are supposed to trust you with stuff.”

  As the words “people who care about you” echoed in her ears, Riley suddenly remembered the worst part of it all—the part that had made her so upset she’d decided Lucas couldn’t possibly have done those things Zay had talked about. “Waitaminute,” she finally said, getting up from the lunch table, searching Maya’s face and then Lucas’s. Not only had he done what Zay had said, but someone else had kept the truth from her, too—someone who meant the world to her. “My father knew about this?”

  That’s when the tears really started to burn Riley’s eyes. But she wasn’t going to let Lucas see her cry. So she quickly turned and stormed out of the cafeteria, as fast as she possibly could, determined not to look back. After all, looking back was what had started all of this in the first place.

  Mrs. Matthews was just sitting down on the couch with a cup of tea, ready to relax and curl up with a book after another long day in court, when her husband burst through the apartment door.

  “Topanga!” he shouted, rushing to her. “There could be a significant amount of drama heading in our general direction.”

  “Y’know, normal people consider their home to be a sanctuary from the storm of the outside world,” Mrs. Matthews replied. “Why can’t we be normal people?”

  “Because we have this—” Mr. Matthews made a grand gesture toward the front door, eager for his wife to understand exactly what had happened at school. But nobody was there. The door remained closed. “I never get those right,” Mr. Matthews said, shaking his head with disappointment. “But it’s coming!”

  “’Kay,” Mrs. Matthews said, playing along. “What do you wanna do until it does?”

  “I could throw a tantrum about absolutely nothin’ for ya,” Auggie offered from his spot at the kitchen table, ever the dutiful son. “Watch me.”

  Auggie jumped onto the table, stretched out on his belly, and banged his fists and feet. “Why don’t we have any”—the curly-haired boy paused and appeared to be struggling to come up with something really important—“jelly?” he finally demanded.

  “There’s some in the fridge,” Mrs. Matthews replied calmly.

  “Well…I don’t like that kind of jelly!” Auggie insisted, pounding his fists and feet even harder.

  Then, finally, the real storm arrived in the form of Riley.

  “You knew!” she shouted at her father as she stomped into the apartment and slammed the door behind her.

  “Well, I’m not gonna beat that,” Auggie observed, climbing down from the table and watching his sister take over.
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br />   “Boy, are you gonna get yelled at, Matthews!” said Maya as she rushed in through the apartment door before realizing Riley was already there. She turned her attention to her best friend. “Oh, I already missed it? Do it again.”

  “A normal-people sanctuary,” Mrs. Matthews sighed. “I’d like a fountain. Maybe a candle.”

  “How could you keep something like this away from me?” Riley screamed at her father.

  “Just someplace where people don’t get hysterical over every little thing,” Mrs. Matthews continued to muse.

  “Yes, I did know that Lucas was expelled,” Mr. Matthews told his daughter with a shrug, as if it were no big deal.

  “What?” Mrs. Matthews demanded, abandoning her serene fantasy.

  Mr. Matthews turned and whispered to his wife, “Topanga, you knew this. I told you all about this.”

  “Yeah, I know you told me all about this, but I want nothing to do with that,” Mrs. Matthews explained in hushed confidence as she shot a glance at Riley, who was glaring at her father, clearly angrier with him than she’d ever been in her life.

  “Why would you let me like him if you know something about him?” Riley demanded.

  “Riley, honey,” Mrs. Matthews said carefully, “whatever this is about Lucas—that I know nothing about—I’m sure your father knows exactly what you need to learn from it.”

  “Really?” Riley widened her eyes, hopeful yet skeptical, shaking her head. “Dad? You got anything?”

  But her father stood in silence. For once, he seemed to be all out of lessons. For once, he was speechless.

  It was a new day, and Riley had no interest in being in history class. History had officially become her least favorite subject ever.

  “Al washes a car in six minutes,” Mr. Matthews said to the students. “Fred washes the same car in eight minutes. How long does it take Al and Fred to wash the same car together?”

  Wait. Was that his plan? To turn history into math?

  “How is this anything?” Riley asked.

  “Three minutes, twenty-five point seven seconds,” Farkle offered, looking up from the paper where he had been feverishly working on the equation.

  “Wrong,” Mr. Matthews said flatly.

  “I’m sorry, what’d you just say?” Farkle demanded.

  “You’re wrong,” Mr. Matthews repeated.

  “I’m wrong?” Farkle fumed. “You’re a history teacher teaching English, science, whatever you got going on at home.” Farkle paused for effect, then offered an example to illustrate his point: “You waltz your wife in here on career day—”

  “She’s a respected attorney,” Mr. Matthews insisted, like it was the most logical thing in the world.

  “My father says she should’ve been my mother!” Farkle hissed at the teacher.

  Mr. Matthews sighed, exhausted and defeated. “Whaddaya want from me?”

  “Mr. Matthews teaches us about a lot of things,” Lucas chimed in, coming to the teacher’s defense as he shot a critical look at Riley. “He’s open-minded that way.”

  “He can be open-minded, because he knows who we are,” Riley fired back.

  “Oooh.” Lucas smiled slyly at Mr. Matthews. “She took us both out.”

  “I teach this way because in my old school I had a very strict teacher,” Mr. Matthews explained.

  “He teach history, English, or math?” Zay asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mr. Matthews said, clearly still a bit puzzled by that one himself all those years later. “But in his class there was no talking. No interruptions.”

  “So you didn’t like him?” Zay asked.

  “I loved him,” Mr. Matthews insisted.

  “Then why don’t you teach like him?” Farkle asked.

  “Because I would never try to be like him,” Mr. Matthews explained. “I could only fail. I only succeed with you guys if I get my teaching across as effectively as he did.”

  “You do,” Maya told Mr. Matthews, and then turned to look at Zay. “He does.”

  “Thank you, Maya.” Mr. Matthews seemed genuinely touched. “And I will, now. Al washes a car in six minutes. Fred washes the same car in eight minutes.”

  “See? He thinks it’s math class!” Zay tossed up his hands in frustration. “Somebody stop him!” Zay turned and shook a finger at Farkle. “You, what’s your name?”

  “Farkle.”

  “What’d you call me?” Zay scrunched up his face, disgusted.

  “My name is Farkle,” he explained, slowly.

  “Who would do that to you?” Zay asked with a sympathetic frown.

  “So your assignment today is to wash a car,” Mr. Matthews said, intervening. He looked from Riley to Lucas. “Together.”

  “With him?” Riley demanded, pushing an angry thumb in Lucas’s direction.

  “Especially with him,” Mr. Matthews concluded while Riley sulked.

  “If you do it correctly, you will find the answer is three minutes, twenty-five point seven seconds,” Farkle insisted.

  “If you do it correctly, you will find the secret of life.” Mr. Matthews stared at the class, a sad but hopeful look in his eyes.

  Riley felt just as sad, and far from hopeful. The assignment didn’t make sense, and it probably never would. History plus math. Al plus Fred. Riley plus Lucas. Whatever the variables, there was no way it would add up to anything good.

  Standing in the school parking lot just outside the gym, Riley watched as Maya washed the Matthewses’ car while Zay sat comfortably inside the vehicle with his hands behind his head, listening to the radio and nodding in time to the music.

  “Done!” Maya finally announced.

  Farkle, who was keeping track of how long it took each person to wash the car alone, immediately clicked the stopwatch that was hanging around his neck. “Amazing,” Farkle marveled.

  “How long?” Maya asked.

  “Nineteen minutes, forty-two seconds,” Farkle told her. “You are the worst car washer in this class.”

  “Oh,” Maya groaned, tossing her soapy yellow rag on the ground. “You mean no one will ever ask me to wash a car for them?” She walked over to Riley and commanded, “Say it.”

  “You’re a genius,” Riley admitted.

  “Oh, stop,” Maya replied with false humility and a smile, tossing her hair.

  Farkle looked down at his clipboard. “The only two who washed the car in six minutes and eight minutes exactly were Riley and—”

  “Lucas?” Maya interrupted. “Was it Lucas? It couldn’t have been Lucas. Was it Lucas?”

  “Yeah, Lucas.” Farkle nodded and smiled, surprising no one.

  “I’m not washing a car with him,” Riley insisted.

  “Oh yes you are,” Farkle fired back, pointing his finger in her face. “And you are washing it in three minutes, twenty-five point seven seconds, and I will go back to your father and I will say, ‘HAAHHH!’” Determined and serious, Farkle glared at Riley and added, “Now pick up that hose.”

  “Fine.” Riley picked up the hose.

  “And you pick up that bucket,” Farkle commanded Lucas.

  “Yes, sir,” Lucas replied, amused.

  “And…go!” Farkle shouted, holding up the stopwatch.

  Riley began to wash the car, as slowly and as far away from Lucas as she possibly could. She hosed off the front of the car while he used the sponge and soapy water to clean the back.

  “No, no,” Farkle complained. “Work together. The equation doesn’t work if you don’t work together.”

  “Riley, I could use some water over here to rinse this off,” Lucas called to her.

  “Oh. Water?” Riley stared at the ground and readied the hose. “You want some water?”

  “Yes, please,” Lucas responded, ever the polite southern gentleman—not that Riley believed that was the real him anymore.

  “Oh, Huckleberry, Huckleberry…” Maya chuckled and shook her head. “Whatever bad, bad things you did at your old school, you are still such a Huckleberr
y.”

  “Why?” Lucas asked innocently. “You need water to rinse off—”

  As Riley approached with the hose, Maya ducked, and the stream of water shot straight at Lucas. Riley sprayed him so hard that he dove over the hood of the car, desperate to escape the force of the water. Riley kept going at him, attacking him with the hose, while Zay watched from inside the bright blue Mini Cooper, amazed.

  “Tell me what you did!” Riley shouted at Lucas.

  “Nothing this bad!” Lucas said, jumping out from behind the car just long enough for Riley to spray him right in the face. He dove back behind the car.

  “They threw you out of school!” Riley yelled.

  “Wash the car!” Farkle shouted at both of them, marching over with his clipboard. “You’re supposed to be washing the car! Why aren’t you washing the car? Wash the car!”

  But Riley was on a mission. She spun around and sprayed Farkle in the face.

  “Okay!” Farkle quickly backed off.

  “When are you gonna tell me what you did?” Riley demanded, turning back to glare at Lucas.

  “Fine!” Lucas yelled back, soaked from head to toe. “You want me to tell you what I did?”

  “Everything!” Riley insisted.

  “Okay,” Lucas said, softening his voice and talking to her like she was a wild animal as he reached out his hands and slowly approached her. “Good girl. Just give me the hose…and I’ll tell you. Good girl.”

  “Fine.” Riley handed the hose to Lucas.

  Maya, amazed, slapped her forehead with her hand.

  “Thank you,” Riley said to Lucas.

  “No, thank you,” Lucas replied, taking the hose from her with an evil glint in his still beautiful green eyes.

  That was when Riley realized what he had just done. “Maya!” she screamed as Lucas turned the hose on her and opened fire. She flew back against the fence from the force of the water and held on for stability. Zay continued to look on in amazement as he vacated the car and went to sit next to Maya on an overturned bucket.

  “Wow,” Zay said to Maya. “Yours is really something.”

  “She’s a lotta work,” Maya told him.