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❛ ʟᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ & ʟᴀᴄᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚  ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴀ ғᴏʀᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ
ʀᴏᴀᴅ ꒱


❝ I DON'T THINK
THERE'S A UNIVERSE
WHERE WE DON'T ALL
FIND EACH OTHER SOMEHOW ❞

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"So, what did you think of Mr. Matthews' lesson today?" Farkle inquired as they walked home from school. While they normally took one of the Minkus' many cars, the group had met at Topanga's to do their homework together and the fall day had been too nice to be cooped up inside. Although Farkle was always reluctant to do much exercise, he eventually conceded to his girlfriend's pleading.

"Chaos theory?" Miya recalled. They'd made a big deal about no longer wanting to dress up for Halloween, which had prompted their teacher to lecture them about the importance of choices.

He nodded. "I've always found alternate realities intriguing. There's probably one where I'm already ruling the world, or maybe one where my great-grandfather never left Denmark." (He consciously avoided thinking of the other, grimmer realities where his ancestors had made decisions that led to him not existing at all.)

"So you believe in the multiverse, then?"

"Yes, of course," Farkle confirmed as if she should've known that. "I can't imagine that, out of all the infinite possibilities, this is the only version of reality that exists." He gestured vaguely with his free hand (as his other one was holding hers) to the street around them: the rows of townhouses, the passing cars, the crunch of early autumn leaves beneath their feet. "Statistically, that just seems. . . unlikely. What about you?"

She didn't speak right away, mulling over his question until she shared, "I suppose I've never really thought about it, but I think it's believable. Sometimes I do think about how different my life would be if certain people hadn't made the decisions they had."

"Oh? Like what?" the genius wondered curiously.

"Well, besides the obvious one: 'what if my bio mom had kept me?,' there's also 'what if Shawn hadn't left my mom?'" Miya answered.

"Those are pretty big what ifs," Farkle concurred. "Do you think about them in depth or just. . . like that? As a question?"

Despite herself, Miya felt her face heat up and she looked away, self-consciously tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She knew Farkle wouldn't judge her either way, but it still took some courage to mumble, "yeah. Um, more in depth." She expected him to question her further but when he didn't, she cast a sidelong glance at him to see that he was watching her expectantly, silently urging her to continue. She did, though her voice remained quiet as she spoke. "I don't really focus on the bio mom one much since I can't imagine a reality where my mom-mom wouldn't adopt me, though one probably does exist. I mostly think about the one where Shawn would've been my. . ." She made a face, almost seeming to struggle around the word as she finished, "dad."

He couldn't help but chuckle at the clear disgust on her face. This time when she stopped again, he did encourage her, "tell me about it."

She blinked up at him, surprised. "Really?"

"Of course," he replied simply, his brow furrowing in that way it did whenever he didn't understand why someone was surprised by his sincerity. "I always want to hear what you think about things."

Miya stared at him, thrown off by how easily the words left his mouth— like he hadn't registered how soft they sounded, how he always managed to sound so genuine, and the way they tugged at something warm in her chest. It hadn't taken her long to notice that Farkle could be smooth when he wasn't trying to be, yet it still caught her off guard every time. Her face warmed further as she began, "I, well— okay. Um, it always starts with the fact that my mom would still go to England because she would never let a man tell her what to do, except this time Shawn wouldn't get cold feet. He'd go with her and they would live there for a few years until they realized they both missed their best friends and family, which would cause them to move back to the States.

"Meanwhile, Uncle Kendrick and Aunt Celeste would still live in the U.S. since they wouldn't need to move with my mom for emotional support. They'd probably relocate to New York since there's a Sotheby's here. My bio mom would still drop me off at their house, but I'd actually live with them for the first few years of my life since my mom-mom wouldn't be there to help watch me. Then, when my mom does move back to the U.S., that's when she'd start pitching in and taking care of me, which would lead to her eventually adopting me."

"So you have thought about this. A lot, apparently," Farkle teased her. Miya looked away, embarrassed. He dropped his joking tone to inquire more seriously, "and. . . what about us?"

The brunette's lips parted slightly, a bit taken aback by the question he'd brought up. ". . .Us?"

It was his turn to avoid her gaze as he shrugged. "You've already figured out what your family would be like, but. . . what about your friends?" More softly, he clarified, "me?"

It took her awhile to respond to that. When she did, she gave him a sheepish smile. "Well, to be honest, it's still kinda hard for me to imagine we're together in this universe, so I don't know about other ones. I guess. . . I'd definitely know Riley since my mom and her dad are best friends and maybe Maya by association. And. . . since I never lived in London that means Jonah and I wouldn't meet." She giggled at the unexpected face Farkle made at that. "What?"

"I don't like that he's smarter than me," he confessed reluctantly.

Miya frowned at him. "No he's not. Not noticeably, at least. Maybe you beat each other by one or two IQ points— I'm not sure who would have more, so don't ask— but that's it."

Farkle shook his head. "Not just academically." He hesitated for a moment and Miya was surprised by the flush that crept up his neck. "He was the first one to see you that way. Romantically, I mean."

"Jonah?"

He didn't physically acknowledge the question, preferring to stare straight ahead at the sidewalk as if it were suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world as he admitted, "yeah. He got there first. If I hadn't been so caught up with Riley and Maya. . ."

For a few moments, she didn't know what to say. She had always thought her. . . insecurity was a one-way thing, where she judged herself based on her boyfriend's previous affections. In fact, she'd thought Farkle was above jealousy; he was too logical, too methodical for that. But the way his fingers twitched in hers betrayed just how hard this admission was for him, like it wasn't the first time he'd thought about it.

"I had no idea," she murmured. Then, louder, "but I was so young when I dated Jonah. I had no idea what I wanted or even if I really liked him that way. He had always been my best friend and he was the only one who stood up for me so I think that's where my feelings got confused. And when we were together, it kind of felt like we kept. . . missing each other. Like, I'd reach for his hand but he'd move it. Or I would try and kiss him but he'd turn his head." She lifted their joined hands. "It wasn't like this. I think. . . you and I found each other when we were supposed to."

Farkle glanced at her, his expression softening as the meaning in her words sank in. "So. . . in the parallel world you were talking about, I'd get to date you first then?"

"Yeah," she allowed with a laugh, recognizing that he wanted to move on from talking about something he wasn't proud of. But, she made sure to tuck it away in her subconscious so she could reassure him if the need ever arose. "But. . . I don't think we'd meet until later. After all, we only knew each other when we were little because my mom needed new friends after hers ditched her for New York and that was why she called your dad. If she and Shawn never broke up, I don't think she'd have reached out to him so we would've only met in school."

"That's fair," Farkle conceded. "So we'd probably meet later." He glanced at her. "Anything else in this surprisingly detailed world you've thought of?"

Her steps slowed a little, her sneakers crunching the leaves beneath her feet. Almost sheepishly she mumbled, "yeah. Since I lived in the U.S. my whole life, that means I wouldn't have gone to school in London. And I probably. . . I probably would be a lot more confident than I am now. I think if I'd stayed here, I might've been less afraid of standing out."

Farkle's brow furrowed, but not out of pity— out of the kind of quiet anger he felt when he realized someone had made her feel small. "You were just a kid. You shouldn't have had to feel that way."

"I know," she agreed quickly, not wanting to linger on it. She tried for a lighter tone. "But it's fine. I'm here now."

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Still, that's not fair."

"Maybe not." She shrugged. "But if I hadn't gone, I probably would've done a lot of things differently."

"Like what?" he wanted to know.

Miya hesitated, glancing at him from under her lashes before she spoke in a small, shy voice, "I probably would've tried out for cheerleading."

Farkle blinked. "Cheerleading?"

Instantly, her face flushed. "I know, it sounds stupid—"

"It doesn't," he interrupted her firmly.

"Come on," she argued, "you don't have to pretend. I know it's not exactly the most. . . intellectual dream."

"Who says it has to be?" he demanded, though not angrily. "You'd make a great cheerleader."

"You think so?" Miya wondered.

"You're creative and you've got great rhythm," he reasoned. "Why wouldn't you be good at it?"

Miya looked at him for a moment, trying to gauge whether he really meant it. But Farkle's face was calm, open, and sincere, like he couldn't even imagine why she'd think he'd judge her.

"I just. . ." She trailed off, chewing her lip. "It always seemed so shallow, you know? Like something I wasn't supposed to want. I guess I thought if I told anyone, they'd laugh. But. . . maybe in another reality, I actually did it."

🌎🌎🌎

[2016 , alternate timeline]

"ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR. . ." Miya counted over the equally loud music that blared through the gym from the Bluetooth speakers. Her bow-topped dark brown ponytail swung behind her as she clapped to the beat. The remaining nine girls of the JV cheerleading team followed the beats she called out for them in a rehearsed routine.

They had been practicing since September and there were definitely areas that still needed to be polished. They hit the final formation almost perfectly. Almost. Kayla's arm dropped half a second too early and one of the flyers wobbled in her cradle. Miya glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was nearly six. She blew her whistle and the music cut off.

"Alright, that's enough for today!" she announced. "We'll clean up that transition tomorrow. It's looking so much better than Monday, seriously."

There was a chorus of relieved groans and small cheers as the girls stretched out their arms and collected their water bottles and bags.

"I mean it," Miya insisted, beaming at them. "Kenzie, your jump was amazing this time; the height, wow. Brooke, that recovery? Smoothest I've seen. And Abby, keep on smiling— that's what sells it, okay?"

A few of the girls grinned at her encouragement, the exhaustion on their faces softening. Miya had that effect: upbeat even when everyone else was ready to collapse.

"Same time tomorrow!" she dismissed them as the group trickled toward the exit, the chatter of voices fading into the hallway.

When the gym doors finally swung shut behind the last of them, Miya bent over to pick up the first mat that she had to put back, exhaling a long breath. Her arms ached, her throat was dry, but she still felt a twinge of pride at how far they'd come.

"You know," came a voice from behind her, lilting with mischief, "your mysterious cute boy was here again."

Miya straightened, glancing over her shoulder to see Chloe— her best friend in the cheer team— leaning against the bleachers with a smirk. She was the stereotypical cheerleader with perfect blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was never seen out of uniform and was known to occasionally cartwheel in the middle of the hallway on the way to class. But, the one main trope she lacked was meanness. In fact, she was one of the nicest people Miya knew— which was why they were such great friends.

"Oh, not this again," Miya groaned, trying to hide her fluster as she went back to moving the mat. "He's not mine."

"Uh-huh," Chloe hummed, coming over to pick up the other end. "Considering you're the only one who thinks he's cute, I think that makes him technically yours."

The Asian girl sighed. This wasn't the first time Chloe had teased her about their sole audience member and she knew it was far from the last. "That's not how that works."

"Sure it is," Chloe told her with mock sincerity, grunting as they lifted the blue vinyl. "He shows up to every practice, never stays long enough for anyone to talk to him and somehow, you're the one always looking around when he leaves."

"I am not!"

Chloe arched a brow as they shuffled towards the closet. "Mm-hm. You totally are."

Miya rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe he just likes cheerleading."

"Yeah," the blonde snorted. She dropped her end of the mat and helped Miya push it up against the others. "And I'm secretly a calculus prodigy."

They laughed together as they went to go fetch the next one. While Miya always denied how cute she thought the mystery boy was, she could admit to herself that she was crushing on him from afar. He always wore some kind of busy, science-themed formal jacket and what looked like a brightly-colored turtleneck underneath (though she never actually got close enough to him to tell.) Most of the girls on her team were interested in their jock counterparts, but Miya never took much notice of them— not like she did the boy who showed up to practice almost more consistently than some of her actual teammates.

"You should really try to get his name," Chloe couldn't help but add— as she always did when Miya denied her too forcefully. "He's only here for you, you know."

Miya hid her warm face by ducking down to pick up the second mat. "You don't know that for sure."

"Uh, yeah, I do," the blonde deadpanned as she resumed her place at the other end. "I've told you before; you know, that one day you missed practice because you were sick? That was only one day he didn't come. That's why I also call him your 'cute, creepy stalker' because if someone's following your every move, at least you consider them attractive."

The brunette glared at her, though it lacked any true heat. "Can we please drop this subject? I just want get these mats put away; I don't want to keep Riley waiting."

🌎🌎🌎

Riley had started out as a friend of convenience. Her parents (Cory and Topanga) had been best friends with Miya's parents since childhood so the two girls had met when they were young, just after Juliet had formally adopted Miya. Riley was extremely quirky— borderline eccentric (or, if one were to use a meaner word, crazy)— and her odd personality made it hard for her to have friends. Honestly, Miya had been put off by her at first, too, but after giving her the benefit of the doubt, she'd seen the kind, lonely girl underneath the noise. They'd become fast friends after that and the two girls spent most of their time sitting in Riley's bay window or in her mom's bakery.

They'd even tried out to be cheerleaders together way back in the first year of middle school but Riley had struggled with controlling her gangly limbs and hadn't made the cut. Miya had been willing to not accept spot she'd been offered on the team since she didn't want to make her best friend feel bad, but Riley had insisted that she take it. The Matthews girl had been true to her word and supported Miya, always boasting loudly how her best friend was 'the captain of the cheerleading team!' which Miya would quickly amend, 'JV, Riley, JV!' but the distinction wasn't important to Riley.

The brunette always waited for her after school so they could walk home together. She stood outside the doors like she always did, her brown hair held back by a green bow— a cheerleading bow that Miya had gotten for her because she knew how much Riley wanted to be on the team and had hoped her best friend would be happy with at least looking the part. She was, and wore the bow almost every day. Miya wore her bow often, too, to match with her best friend (and Riley had the right idea— it looked great in their dark hair.)

When Miya stepped out of the gym, she found Riley standing there, bouncing on her toes with anticipation. Riley's expression brightened further at the sight of the other girl and she bounded forward. She tucked her stuffed bear under one arm and used her free one to link their arms together as they made to leave. (Chloe knew of this arrangement and, for all her niceness, found Riley too off-putting, so she made sure to wait until the Matthews girl was gone before she left herself.)

"How was practice today?" Riley wanted to know as she tugged Miya towards the door, her enthusiasm putting her one step ahead of the Asian girl. "Did you finally get that transition you guys have been struggling with? What about that cute boy who always watches you? Did he come again? Did you talk to him? Did anyone miss practice today? Was Brooke on time or was she late again?"

Miya smiled, amused by her best friend's rambling questions. Riley never let her answer any of them until she was all out of things she wanted to know. Her loud voice carried down the hall and was even decipherable over the noise of the city once they made it outside. Once she'd run out of steam, Miya did her best to remember exactly what Riley had asked her as she replied to the other girl.

"Practice was good." Miya adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "We're still working on the transition. Amy is having a hard time sticking her landing in the cradle; I don't know what's off about it. Brooke showed up only five minutes late today. . ."

She trailed off under the impression that she'd forgotten the other questions, though truthfully she was avoiding talking about the mystery boy. Chloe and Riley always talked about him (and Miya was curious herself) but what was there to say except the same thing every time? He always leaves before anyone can talk to him.

So, before Riley could press her again, she inquired, "what about you? Did your dad teach names and dates again? And. . . Maya's not giving you any more trouble than usual, is she?"

Riley nodded with uncharacteristic solemnity in response to Miya's first question, hugging her bear closer to her chest. While her dad also taught Miya, the only class they actually had together was lunch. "He taught us about Thomas Edison today. I thought he was going to make a connection to our lives about how important it was not to give up on things even if we fail the first time, but instead all he talked about— well, actually all Farkle talked about— was when he lived and died and what he did to become famous." She sighed. "Beary and I always wonder what it would be like to learn more than just the basic history— like, the real meaning behind the lessons."

Miya kicked at some of the leaves that had drifted across the sidewalk, sending them fluttering into the air. "Well, maybe you should ask him."

"Do you think he'd listen?"

"You're his daughter and he cares about you, of course he'll listen," the Asian girl reassured her. "He's a great teacher and any great teacher wants their students to get the most out of their lessons. And Maya?" she added, being only slightly hypocritical in the fact that she wouldn't let Riley avoid the question while she neglected to address the one about the mystery boy.

Riley shrugged, seemingly unaffected. "I think Maya and I— and you— could be really good friends, so maybe if I keep doing her homework she'll finally like me!"

Miya let out a breath and subtly shook her head in exasperation. "Riles, that's not how a real friendship starts. You shouldn't let her push you around like that."

"I don't mind, Peaches!" the brunette chirped, adding an extra skip to her step. "I like homework. And I don't want her to fail. Then she'd just be mad all the time, and that wouldn't help anybody."

"There's a difference between helping someone and letting them take advantage of you," Miya cautioned her, hearing the echo of all the times she'd tried to get Riley to stand up for herself in her words.

🌎🌎🌎

At the beginning of history class the next day, Cory pulled Miya aside and told her that he wanted her to stay after for a moment. Her heart sank at his words, knowing what they meant. While she would consider herself 'average smart,' she occasionally struggled with school as her Dyslexia made reading and writing difficult. Though it had gotten easier over the years, she still sometimes needed accommodations. Now that she'd been made captain of the JV team, she'd had less time for her studies and knew that was being reflected in her grades. She had no doubt about what her Uncle Cory wanted to discuss.

Her stomach twisted in knots as she took her usual seat, which was front and center (unbeknownst to her, she and Chloe sat in a perfect mirror of Riley and Maya.) She did her best to focus on the lecture until the bell rang, but her mind kept replaying the older man's words on a loop in her head. When the bell finally rang, Miya took her time gathering her things, pretending to double-check her notes while everyone else hurried out.

Mr. Matthews waited by his desk, shuffling a few papers but clearly keeping an eye on her. Once the last of the students were gone, she shuffled towards him with her backpack slung over one shoulder, her head bowed to avoid his gaze.

"Miya," he addressed her in that gentle, teacher-voice tone that was somehow even worse than if he'd used his 'Uncle Cory' one. "I wanted to talk to you about your progress so far. It's getting to the middle of the first quarter and I know you've had a lot on your plate lately."

Miya studied the pile of papers on his desk intently. "Yeah. . . cheer practice has been really busy."

"I figured as much," he acknowledged. "That promotion to captain is a big deal. It sounds like you're doing a great job and you know that we're all very proud of you. But. . ." He adjusted his glasses in the way he always did when he was about to give them a lot of homework or say something students didn't want to hear. ". . .your grades in history have slipped a bit."

She swallowed, feeling her throat tighten with embarrassment. "I know. I've been trying to keep up, I just. . . the words become jumbled when I try to figure out which war's which or who invented what and by the time I figure it out, we've moved on."

"I know reading and remembering names and dates can be tricky for you," Cory recalled warmly. "That's why I want to be proactive instead of waiting until it's a bigger problem. You're a good student, Miya. I know you work hard and I don't want you to feel like you're falling behind."

She shifted awkwardly, desperately wishing for this entire conversation to be in the past already. "So. . . what does that mean?"

"I think it might help to have a tutor," he suggested. "Someone who can go over the material with you one-on-one, at your own pace. Just a couple of afternoons a week. It'll make things a lot less stressful."

Miya frowned, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip— just like her mom's always did. "A tutor?"

"Yes. Someone I trust." He hesitated, as though debating how much to say. "You may have heard of him; he's one of the smartest kids in school."

"He?" she repeated. The door opened as if on cue. A boy wearing a busy, science-themed sports jacket with a vibrantly-colored turtleneck underneath walked into the room. Miya's eyes went wide. "You!"

Cory must've caught the note of familiarity in her tone and he smiled approvingly. "You two know each other, then?"

"We-well, not. . . not exactly," she stammered, her mind trying to catch up to the fact that the mystery boy was standing right in front of her! Her heart caught at the sight of him, warmth spreading through her chest at the fact that he was finally standing close enough for her to take in details that the bleachers' distance usually made indistinct.

To her surprise, the other teen didn't look, well, surprised at all. He looked like he'd expected this. Like he'd known it would be her. He didn't really meet her eyes, his own landing on her once before he steadfastly focused on their teacher. Cory gestured to the boy to introduce him. "Farkle Minkus."

"Farkle Minkus," Miya reiterated, though when she said it, it was to feel how the letters rolled off her tongue— to finally put a name to a face. What she really wanted to know was why he came to the JV cheer practices, but the only word she managed to get past her lips was a soft, "hi."

His gaze snapped back to hers, some of his confidence becoming uncertainty as he searched her face for. . . something, she didn't know. But apparently, she passed the test as his guarded expression dissipated and became friendlier. "Hi."

Mr. Matthews beamed at them and clapped his hands together enthusiastically. "Alright then! It looks like this is the beginning of a great team. Why don't you two figure out a schedule that works for you?"

🌎🌎🌎

"You're home later than usual," Juliet remarked as Miya stepped into her family's apartment later that day. It was really her grandad's apartment, but he'd given it to her mom and dad when they moved back to the U.S. after being in England for a few years. It was a nice size and had two bedrooms— one of which was hers, though she knew she'd eventually have to share it with her baby sister.

The brunette went over to the kitchen island where Shawn had a notebook and his camera in front of him as he was penning his next article for the travel magazine he wrote for. Miya's baby sister, Ophelia, sat in a high chair perpendicular to him. (Ophelia's name had been Juliet's idea; as someone who had beat the Shakespearian stereotype, she wanted to give her daughter the same opportunity.)

She had a bright orange plastic spoon clutched in her hand and she twisted in her chair at the sound of the door opening to give the older girl a happy, toothy smile. Miya placed a kiss on top of the toddler's fair, red hair that she had inherited from her mother, while the younger girl's blue eyes— something she got from both of her parents— watched her with attentive curiosity. "Mimi!"

"I texted you to let you know," the Asian girl pointed out as she gave her dad a one-armed hug before she dumped her backpack on one of the remaining stools. "Anyway, didn't Uncle Cory tell you about getting someone to tutor me?"

"That's right," the redhead realized, using a towel to dry off the wooden spoon she was done washing. "Who did he pick?"

Miya shot Shawn a wary glance, but he was absorbed in his work and didn't seem to be paying attention to them. Lowering her voice, she began, "do you remember that mystery boy I told you about?"

Juliet's expression brightened. "Oh yeah, the cute one that followed you everywhere?"

Shawn's head shot up without hesitation, his eyes narrowing on his older daughter. "Cute boy? What cute boy? No dating until you're eighteen!"

Miya groaned, feeling her face heat up. "Daaad! Mom, make him stop!" Then, to try and mitigate her dad's overprotectiveness, she added, "and he doesn't follow me everywhere, he just comes to cheer practice."

It was probably the mention of 'cheer practice' that made Ophelia chime in importantly, "rah-rah!" as she waved her hands in the air like she'd seen her sister do with pom-poms.

"Take it easy on her, Shawnie," Juliet chided her husband good-naturedly. She moved closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder, a touch that he leaned into without thought. "I started dating when I was her age."

"Yeah, and look how that turned out," he grumbled. "You didn't start making good choices until. . . what age did we start dating?" He pretended to think about it for a moment. "Oh! Right. Eighteen."

"I don't even want to date him!" Miya exclaimed, though the warmth on her face betrayed her. "And that's not even why I brought him up! I was trying to say that that's who Uncle Cory picked to be my tutor. I know his name now," she finished happily. "It's Farkle Minkus."

Shawn snorted at that. "Poor kid." Then he paused as recognition dawned on him. "Hang on. . . Minkus. I know that name." He looked over at his wife, who he believed knew everything. "How do I know that name?"

"That's the last name of that nerdy guy you picked on in middle school," Juliet recalled promptly. "Steve? No. . . Stuart! It was Stuart. He had a kid?"

"Guess so, though I wouldn't be surprised if that kid was some kind of robot," the dark-haired man remarked. His gaze softened as it fell on Ophelia as she bounced in her seat. "I'm glad I reproduced before he did."

"Ugh, dad! That's so gross!" Miya complained as she unzipped her backpack to take out her remaining homework. "And besides, Farkle's older than Ophelia, so techincally—"

Juliet shook her head subtly and mouthed, 'don't go there.' Miya decided to take her mom's advice and cut off her argument so her dad wouldn't get any ideas about enforcing his 'no dating until eighteen' rule. Her mom helped her out by changing the subject. "So, when is this first study session?"

"Tomorrow after school," Miya replied, "at the library. Uncle Cory thought it'd be a good public place so no one—" She gave her dad a look. "—freaks out."

"For once he came up with a good idea," Juliet murmured, smiling faintly. "You'll do great, sweetheart."

Shawn only crossed his arms in a faux-threat. "Just make sure he knows I can use a camera and a shovel."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Shawn."

"What? Just setting boundaries."

🌎🌎🌎

The next day found Miya at the library as promised. Farkle was already there waiting for her with his homework supplies at the ready. She took a seat next to him rather shyly, taking the opportunity to dig through her backpack so she could appear busy. But, it didn't take long for her to set everything up and there was nothing else to distract her from the question she'd wanted to ask him since the first cheer practice.

"Why do you watch us practice?" She winced, realizing how harsh her tone sounded and hastily amended, "I don't mean it as a bad thing! I just. . . do you like cheer or something? Do you want to join the team? There are male cheerleaders, you know, even if we don't have any on the team right now." Miya quickly pressed her lips together to keep from rambling further.

It was Farkle's turn to be embarrassed and he needlessly rearranged his already neat pens and pencils. "No, I don't want to join the team. It's probably obvious, but I'm not exactly the athletic type." His laugh had a faint, self-deprecating edge to it. Miya watched, curiously, as the tips of his ears turned pink. "I just like doing my homework in the gym."

Miya stared at him as she could tell that was an outright lie. "Wouldn't the library be better? It's quieter." She paused, then added quietly, "some of the girls think you watch our practices to. . . support someone. Do you have a sister who's on the team?"

It took longer for him to answer this time and she guessed that he was trying to come up with another excuse. When he didn't seem to be able to, he deflated and admitted, "no, I don't have a sister, but. . . yeah, I am there to support someone."

There was a flicker of something in his expression— an almost imperceptible shift, as though he was holding back the real motive. Miya caught it immediately. She leaned a little closer, elbows resting on the table, and tried to read his face. "You mean you're there for a friend?" she pressed lightly. "Someone who needs a cheerleader for the cheerleader?"

The pencil Farkle was holding began to tap at a what felt like a nervous rate. "Something like that."

Her eyes narrowed contemplatively. While she had always struggled in school, she'd had a talent for picking up on others' emotions. She could tell that he was dodging, that much was clear. And she hoped— in a way that made her stomach twist pleasantly— that she knew who he was 'supporting.'

"Well," Miya decided after a pause, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "whoever she is, she's lucky to have someone watching out for her."

That made him look up, his blue eyes sharp and searching. "You think so?"

"Of course," she promised. "You seem like you'd be a good friend."

Farkle blinked, the compliment catching him off guard. "I don't know about that," he murmured, but his lips twitched into a faint, almost bashful smile. "I. . . don't really have any."

There was a beat of silence between them. Miya's gaze drifted down to her open notebook, though her mind wasn't on the homework they'd have to start soon. She wanted to say something else— something more direct.

"You know," she mused slowly, tracing the edge of her pencil against the paper, "I've. . . been wanting to talk to you for a long time but you always left before I could. I just felt like. . . well, I thought—" She struggled to get out the sentiment she was trying to convey and felt her face heat up at her stammering. "I thought we could make a good team if we ever got a chance. Apparently my Uncle Cory thought so too, without even realizing it."

Farkle looked confused for a second, then curious. "You mean, for tutoring?"

"I mean. . . in general," Miya corrected him. Her tone was light, almost teasing, but there was something honest beneath it— something that made her heart beat faster as she waited for his reaction.

Farkle didn't look up right away. He stared down at his notebook, the pencil in his hand now completely still. "A team?" he repeated. He made it sound like the word was almost a foreign concept to him. Then, finally, his gaze lifted to meet hers, and though there was warmth in it, there was also a kind of distance. "I don't think I'm really the 'team' type. I want to rule the world one day."

Miya blinked, thrown off by the bluntness of the statement. "Rule the world?"

A confidence she hadn't seen before seemed to come over him as he talked about his long-held goal. "Yeah. Not in a villain kind of way," he clarified, lips quirking into a small grin. "Just. . . I want to build something big. Change things. Make them better. And that's sort of a one-person operation."

For a moment, Miya just studied his face: the spark in his eyes when he talked about his ambitions, the way his hands stilled once he talked about something that really mattered to him. He wasn't joking. He really believed it. Still. . .

"That seems lonely," she commented softly.

Farkle tilted his head, considering her words, but there was no sadness in his expression, just quiet conviction. "Well," he declared, voice calm but final, "I don't see any solution to that."

Miya sat back, unsure what to say to that. She didn't interrogate him further but she wanted to tell him that maybe, just maybe, ruling the world wasn't worth it if you had to do it alone. But, she didn't know him well enough yet to convince him otherwise. That didn't stop her from feeling the sting of rejection even if he hadn't really denied her. The library around them felt a little too quiet now, every sound amplified: the soft hum of the overhead lights, the faint rustle of pages from a nearby table. She tried to smile but it felt forced.

"Guess we better start on the homework, then," she murmured, reaching for her pencil again.

"Yeah," Farkle concurred, looking back down at his notes. But as he did, he couldn't help sneaking a quick glance at her from the corner of his eye— the kind of glance that wasn't supposed to mean anything.

And yet, it did.

🌎🌎🌎

Despite the fact that Farkle seemed pretty set on being alone, Miya started seeking him out more actively than she ever had before. She knew he existed in more than just the gym and the library so she looked for his busy sports jacket wherever she went. After a few days of searching for him in the crowds of students that filled the hallway between classes, she felt better about not seeing him before; he didn't seem to be anywhere.

Now that she had his name, she questioned Riley about him. The brunette was very happy to learn that he was who her mystery boy was and shared as much as she could about him since Farkle was in her history class. From what Miya gathered, besides the class he had with Riley, the rest of his schedule was full of advanced classes which were in another part of the building and that was why she'd never seen him during school hours. So, she purposefully sought him out (and tried to ignore the fact that now she was being kind of stalker-like, but how else was she supposed to convince him that they would be great together?)

He was understandably startled as he came out of his honors chemistry class to find her standing there. She had her cheer uniform on since she had practice at the end of the day and the green bow that went with it was perched in her dark hair. Her outfit was gaining a lot of attention due to the 'nerds' that populated this area of school. Farkle seemed to become almost self-conscious at the sight of her and she was pretty sure he made to duck away from her before she could talk to him, but she was faster. She bounced up to him (feeling very much like Riley for a split second) and greeted him with a bright, "Farkle, hi!"

Farkle froze mid-step, eyes darting around as if to confirm that she was, in fact, talking to him.

"Oh. . . uh, hi," he muttered, the word coming out awkwardly, almost shyly. He adjusted the strap of his backpack, glancing past her shoulder before looking back at her uncertainly.

Miya's bright smile faltered for a second. Maybe it was weird that she'd tracked him down and that's what was putting him off. "I, um, was just waiting for you," she explained, forcing cheer into her voice again. "I figured since we're kind of friends now, I could walk with you to your next class?"

Farkle blinked, clearly puzzled. "You were. . . waiting for me?"

Her fingers toyed with the hem of her uniform skirt as she nodded, suddenly second guessing herself under his disbelief. "Yeah. You know, like how you always came to cheer practices?"

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I just didn't think. . ." He trailed off awkwardly. "Honestly, I thought you didn't really want to talk to me. I figured people like you don't really hang out with people like me."

Miya blinked, confusion flickering across her face before realization dawned. "Oh," she murmured softly. Then, more firmly, she promised: "I swear cheerleaders aren't as stuck up as Hollywood makes us seem." She let out a laugh, half teasing, half sincere. "Well, okay, sometimes they can be, but I'm not. I really do want to be friends."

Farkle's brows drew together, as though her insistence didn't quite compute. "You. . . do?"

"Yes," she stated firmly, stepping closer so he couldn't mistake her sincerity. "I meant what I said about how we'd make a good team, even if you don't believe it yet."

For a second, he looked like he might argue, but instead he just sighed in defeat. "You're very. . . persistent."

Miya grinned. "Thank you."

Although he protested every time, she met him outside his classes more often. At first, Farkle tried to brush her off, claiming he had somewhere to be, or that she didn't have to bother, but Miya was never deterred. She'd fall into step beside him, chatting about her day, waving at people in the hall while and greeted them if she recognized them. He was surprised by how many people she knew and how much information she retained about apparent strangers as she was able to follow up with things she'd talked to them about previously. After a week or so, he stopped pretending to mind. And though he still rolled his eyes when she showed up, Miya noticed the tiny upward twitch in his mouth every time she did.

Then one day, everything flipped.

The bell had just rung and Miya stepped out of her English classroom. Every time she was done with English for the day, relief would flood through her in a wave and all she would feel was the desire to run out of the classroom. She never wasted time in putting her books away, eager to get out of there as fast as possible. So, she always ended up balancing a heavy stack of books against her side on her way to her next class. Today, she almost dropped them when she saw who was waiting for her across the hall.

"Farkle?" she exclaimed.

He straightened, his expression as unreadable. Without saying anything, he reached for the books in her arms. She hesitated, half-waiting for him to explain what he was doing there, but he just took them neatly and walked on.

"Uh— wait!" she called, hurrying after him. "Is my class on the way to yours or something?"

"No," he responded simply, not slowing down.

That single word left her speechless. She opened her mouth to say something else, but he'd already turned the corner, walking briskly down the hall with her books in hand. For a long moment, Miya just stood there, staring after him. Then a slow smile spread across her face, her cheeks warm as she hugged her arms to her chest. He could pretend all he wanted, but she knew. She'd finally worn him down.

🌎🌎🌎

Cory pulled Miya aside again as it neared the end of the first semester (and Halloween.) She had the same, sinking feeling in her stomach again, though she thought it might be for a different reason this time. Farkle had joined them after class as well, just like he had when Cory had first proposed him as her tutor. However, instead of having an air of concern and please-don't-make-your-mom-mad-at-me about him, Mr. Matthews smiled proudly at his unofficially-adopted niece. He had her most recent three tests in front of him, showing off her B-average.

"Miya, I've got to say, I'm really proud of you," he congratulated her warmly, tapping the tests on his desk. "These are solid improvements. You've come a long way since the beginning of the semester."

Miya's stomach unclenched a bit and her lips curved into a small, pleased smile. "Thank you. I've been trying really hard."

"I can tell," Cory reassured her. Then he turned his attention towards the boy beside her. "And you've been a big part of that, Farkle. The two of you seem to work really well together. You've both put in the work. I only set up the tutoring arrangement to make sure Miya got the support she needed, but at this point, you're doing great. You can keep studying together if you want, but I don't think I need to enforce it anymore."

The words hit Miya like a small pang in the chest.

She was proud; she'd earned those grades, and it felt good to have someone who was like family recognize that. But as she glanced over at Farkle, who was smiling politely, a quiet dread crept in. That was it, wasn't it? The perfect out.

Now he didn't have to meet with her after school or sit with her at the library or walk her to class. He'd done his job, tutoring was over. And she couldn't exactly ask him to stay when the whole purpose they'd hung out in the first place had just been removed.

"Thanks, Uncle Cory," she stated, trying to sound upbeat. "That means a lot."

Cory beamed at her. "You earned it, Miya. I'm sure your mom will be proud."

The 'and dad' was implied, but they both knew Shawn didn't care about academics, unlike Juliet.

Farkle held the door open for her as they left the classroom, and for once, she didn't smile at him or fill the silence with bubbly conversation. Her voice, when it came, was quiet. "You must be happy," she remarked, looking down at the floor.

He frowned slightly. "Happy?"

"That you don't have to tutor me anymore," she clarified, forcing a laugh. "You're free now. You can go back to doing whatever you were doing before. . . without me bugging you all the time."

Farkle opened his mouth, then closed it again. He hadn't expected to feel this way: disappointed. The truth was, he liked having an excuse to spend time with her, even if it was under the guise of homework and test prep. It had given him something to look forward to, something that made his otherwise predictable school days more exciting. He felt dread begin to curl within him at the thought of going back to the way things had been before, of simply watching her from afar and being too intimidated to talk to the friendly, pretty cheerleader without a reason to.

"I wouldn't call it bugging," he corrected her after a pause.

Miya looked up, surprised. "No?"

He shook his head, his expression softening. "You're. . . a good study partner."

It wasn't the most eloquent thing to say, but there was an honesty in his tone that made her chest tighten. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The halls were mostly quiet since it was the end of the day. Miya swallowed, her voice small and hopeful when she spoke again: "so. . . maybe you changed your mind about being friends, then?"

Farkle blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Friends?"

"Yeah. You know, hanging out, talking. . . not just tutoring." Her hands fidgeted with the strap of her bag. "You said you don't really do the whole team thing, but I thought maybe that could change."

He hesitated, uncertain. "And how do you propose that will happen?"

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, catching him completely off guard. Farkle stiffened at first, unused to being hugged, especially not by someone like Miya, warm and open and full of energy even when she was quiet. After a moment, though, he mumbled, almost inaudibly, "okay."

🌎🌎🌎

That night, while Miya helped her mom clean up the dinner dishes, Juliet gave her daughter a fond look. "Cory told me about the improvements you've made with your grades. I'm always proud of you, but especially of how hard you've been working lately."

Miya ducked her head as her Uncle Cory's prediction came true. "Thanks, Mom. But. . . I didn't do it all by myself." She glanced towards the door to make sure her dad wasn't coming back anytime soon. When it remained closed, she continued, "Farkle helped me a lot. Like, a lot. I knew he was a genius, but he's really smart. I can't believe all the things he knows. He makes everything make sense somehow."

Juliet's smile widened knowingly. "So. . . are you going to keep seeing him even though Cory freed you from tutoring?"

The brunette felt her face heat up and clanked the dishes together extra-loudly to hide her fluster. "Yeah. He wasn't too excited about being friends at first but I wore him down— not in a bad way! Or, at least I hope not. He just seemed to want a friend, but wasn't letting himself have one and. . . I made him see differently."

Juliet chuckled quietly, wiping her hands with a towel. "Did you invite him to go trick-or-treating with you and Riley tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Miya confirmed. "After I made sure it was okay with Riley, of course. She already knew him since they were in the same class. Apparently he's going as this. . . concept called 'Farkle Time' which is something Uncle Cory lets him do. I don't really get it but he seemed excited about it."

Just then, the front door clicked open and Shawn stepped back inside, brushing his hands off after taking out the trash. He caught the tail end of the conversation and raised an eyebrow. "You're still talking about that robot kid? What happened to my 'no dating until eighteen' rule?" He glanced between them, feigning exasperation. "Does no one listen to me in this house?"

Juliet laughed, walking over to him as he went to wash his hands at the sink. "Of course we don't, honey," she joked, reaching up to ruffle his hair teasingly. "We just let you think we do."

"Unbelievable," Shawn muttered with a mock sigh, though there was an unmistakable smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He turned to look at Ophelia, who was sitting in her high chair, legs swinging as she colored intently. "At least I've got one daughter who listens to me."

Miya smirked as she handed her mom another dish. "Give it a few years, dad. Ophelia'll probably want to date when she's in high school, too."

Shawn froze mid-swipe with the dish towel. "Don't even say that." He put the towel down and strode dramatically toward Juliet, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Julie, we need another kid. Come on. Maybe this time I'll get a son who won't betray me with teenage crushes and study sessions."

Juliet leaned back against him, amused. "You really think a son would side with you?"

"Of course he would," Shawn vowed, pressing a kiss into her hair. "We'd be a team. Boys stick together. He'd never leave me."

The redhead turned a bit to glance up at him with a smirk. "Unless you're the one willing to grow a kid inside of you, you're only getting one child out of me."

Shawn groaned as if she'd just betrayed him. "You're killing me, Julie."

"Mm, that's marriage for you," she quipped, turning back to the sink.

Miya giggled quietly as she stacked the last of the dishes. Ophelia let out a happy babble from her high chair, waving her crayon in the air, and Shawn grinned in defeat.

"Well," he declared, heading to dry his hands, "guess it's me and you against the world, Ophelia."

Juliet gave her husband a playful pout. "Hey, I thought that was us!"

"Mm, that's marriage for you," he shot back jokingly as he scooped Ophelia up out of her chair, causing her to let out a happy squeal-laugh at the unexpected change in height.

Miya's expression softened as she watched her parents tease each other. Maybe it was because she was adopted, but it was in moments like these that she felt the quiet warmth of belonging settle over her most noticeably. And, maybe it was cliché, but even just a simple evening of them all being together made her feel the steady, unspoken love of her family more clearly than words could ever express.

🌎🌎🌎

There was just one more obstacle Miya had to face before she could enjoy her night out with her friends. Riley had told her about her efforts to get Maya's grades to improve because she truly believed the blonde had potential. Maya tried to scare her out of doing so but, Riley being Riley, persisted— until the consequences came back to bite her.

She'd come to Miya then, more scared than she was willing to let on, about how Maya had threatened to hurt her if a teacher ever called on her. While Riley didn't believe she actually would, she didn't want to face the rebellious girl alone. Miya agreed to come with her, but had ended up telling Farkle about the altercation as well. While he wasn't necessarily the most. . . intimidating (or brave) person in school, he insisted on coming, too. That led to all three of them being in the main hallway at three o'clock as Maya had ordered.

The blonde came up the stairs to find the three of them in a line: Riley first, then Miya, then Farkle. They were the only three people standing in the mostly empty hallway She gave the group a bored once-over. "Yeah, I gotta say, bowhead, not a lot of people would be on time for this party. And you brought friends. Wonderful."

"Well, than they're rude," Riley decided cheerfully. "And like you said, it's a party! The more the merrier."

Maya remained standing a few feet away them, noticeably separated from the trio as she focused on the tall brunette. "How can you possibly look at someone like me and see a B-minus?"

"I see better than that," Riley informed her earnestly. "I see better than what anyone assumes about us. Most people would write Miya off as popular cheerleader and expect her to skate by on her grades, but she works really hard for them."

"Thanks, Riles," Miya muttered, equal parts embarrassed, vaguely annoyed and pleased that her friend recognized her effort.

"You're welcome, Peaches!" the Matthews girl chirped. She tucked her arm into Miya's and pulled her towards the bay window seat that was embedded into the wall behind them. Farkle remained standing awkwardly in the middle of the hallway with Maya but, after a beat, she followed them. Riley stopped in front of the seat. "Sit down!"

Maya gave her a deadpan look. "I'm not sitting next to you."

"Then you can sit next to Miya," Riley offered, giving her no room to argue. She repeated firmly, "sit down."

"I'm not sitting next to either of you," the blonde snapped. "I'm Maya Hart."

"Sit down!" Miya commanded her, using an even stronger tone than Riley had.

Maya did so, begrudgingly, stomping over to the seat. Riley and Miya sat on either side of her, the three of them squishing into the small space. Riley looked at Maya expectantly. "Okay. Now you talk to us."

"No. I throw stuff at you and make you do my homework," Maya retorted.

"Yeah, that doesn't fly with me," Miya interjected sharply. "I know how you treat Riley and I don't let anyone treat my friends like that. You're going to talk to her now."

Maya gave her an appraising look. "I could take you."

"You could try," the Asian girl countered sweetly, "but I do cheer. It may look like a girly sport to the casual observer, but I can lift twice my weight." (An exaggeration? Sure, but she saw the doubt that flashed in the blonde's eyes and felt a burst of smug pride.)

"Talk to us," Riley pleaded, shooting her best friend a warning look to not instigate. "Maybe there's something we could say that would change each other."

"I don't wanna change," Maya huffed.

Riley, of course, had no social grace and stated bluntly: "I heard that your father's gone. I'm a really good listener."

Maya yanked the brunette's bow from her head and threw it to the side. Miya scowled at her but conceded to Riley's wishes and didn't protest. Maya was quiet for a moment, then she looked over to the dark recess of the stairs to the upper floor and announced, "I know you're here, cowboy. Maybe you're right." The Asian girl startled as a good-looking boy dressed in black, complete with a black cowboy hat emerged from the shadows. Maya continued, "so maybe I'm not as tough as people think I am. Maybe I don't want to be. Ya happy, you-you. . . you huckleberry?"

The boy smiled, seeming almost happy at the nickname. Riley looked over at him, just as surprised as Miya. "You were there the whole time?"

"I just felt like I wasn't supposed to let anything happen," he explained.

As if sensing that the girls had had their moment, Farkle came over to join them as Maya demanded, "you think she needs protecting from me?"

It took a minute for Miya to place the boy's face but she was eventually able to recognize him as Lucas, the moody Texan that Riley had been taken with all year. He met her gaze and then Farkle's, acknowledging the support the Matthews girl had. "Maybe not anymore."

Miya looked around at the four other teens: Riley still beaming with hope, Maya pretending not to care, Farkle awkwardly loyal as ever and Lucas with his quiet strength. Somehow, it all clicked. It hit her then— the thing Riley had been insisting for weeks, why she'd been so sure this group of people, random as they seemed, mattered. Miya's lips parted as she watched the dynamic take shape before her eyes. There was something about it that just fit. Like puzzle pieces that had been scattered across the table, finally locking together.

"Wow," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. When Riley turned toward her, curiously, she admitted, "you were right, Riles."

"About what?" Riley tilted her head, confused but hopeful, like she always was when Miya agreed with her on something idealistic.

"About this." Miya motioned between the four of them. "You were the one who thought we'd all get along. That we'd be good friends. I see it now. I mean, look at us. We shouldn't work together; we don't even make sense. But somehow. . . somehow it does," she finished softly. "I don't think there's a universe where we don't all find each other somehow."

Riley's face brightened in the way that made it impossible not to smile back at her. "See? I told you. Sometimes the universe just. . . knows."

A/n: I gotta admit, my motivation seriously tanked after last chapter for some reason, a contributing factor being that it only got one comment- I think that's a new lowest record. BUT I powered through and only finished this in 3 weeks 🤣

Anyway, I firmly believe that Riley would be supportive of her friends no matter what, even if they got something she wanted (like a cheerleading position.) I mean, the love triangle is a perfect example of that! So anyone who thinks that Riley would be rude/jealous to someone- literally anyone, even if they were mean to her- is wrong. She's just not a vindictive person and tries to always see the best in people. To me, her flaws are more that she's naive and self-centered/focused on her and Maya to an extreme rather than being mean on purpose to anyone else. 🤷‍♀️