Title: Open Arms

Rating: K+

Genre(s): angst and friendship

Character: Maya Hart

A/N: My first Girl Meets World story! I was really intrigued with Maya's character and backstory from the beginning of the series, but during Girl Meets Father, I knew I had to write a little something following that! I hope you all enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Girl Meets World or Journey's song title Open Arms.

Open Arms

Maya looks forward to Mondays. When she rolls out of bed each morning promptly at 5:45, she can't help but think she's the only thirteen-year-old girl in all of America who appreciates everything Mondays bring at the beginning of each week. Of course, she'll never say that Mondays are her favorite; that isn't the right answer. Kids her age love Fridays and simply adore Saturdays, not Mondays. Just the name itself causes shivers to roll up her peers' back and drift through their souls in total horror.

Not Maya.

Maya loves Mondays.

Maybe it has something to do with going over to Riley's in the morning, expecting Mrs. Matthews to demand she sit and eat a bowl of mushy, overcooked oatmeal with the whole Matthews Clan.

(Or maybe that has everything to do with it).

Sitting in the front row of seventh grade history class isn't all that bad. Sure, it isn't really Maya's style, being the teacher's pet whom avidly scribbles down notes and glues her nose to the pages of her textbook (like Farkle—there was no way she'd ever strive to be like Farkle), but the front row is where Riley sits.

Friends don't abandon friends, even when it comes down to something as measly as where to sit in class.

Maya understands this and really likes it too.

She also knows that if she did ever decide to pursue a spot in the back of the class, Riley would follow her there.

(The fact always made Maya's lips curl up more than they already did when around her best friend).

Every weekday during third period, she sits in the front row. How ironic is it really, that her desk is positioned smack dead in the middle of the blackboard and adjacent to her teacher's own desk? It's like The World—the one Riley constantly reminds her they both live in (which is a little weird, but she goes along with it)—wants her to actually succeed in life. She sighs, slumps further into her seat with her arms crossed over her chest. She stares up at the ceiling, knowing that Mr. Matthews and Riley are watching her intensely.

Here is the thing: Maya is an amazing multi-tasker. She can keep up her tough girl, "I Hate School" image whilst simultaneously locking the information of Mr. Mathews's lecture of Charles Darwin inside her brain. She doesn't need to stare at the blackboard or make eye contact with her teacher to process information better. She can already do that.

So why does she still fail her exams? She knows the information, she truly does. It's when she's expected to write it down on a blank test when she freaks out.

What makes it worse is that she is required to write in pen.

Pen: Maya abhors pens. Can't go back and erase a mistake that easily with a pen like she could with a pencil. She closes her eyes and takes a breath, the demonic pen shaking in her nervous hand. She writes down some words to the first question, but they don't sound right, she thinks. She crosses out her answer, decides to skip it and come back at the end, but she can't.

It's not that simple.

The ink is still there. The words are crossed out, but the ink is still there. She can still read what she originally wrote and hates how it sounds more than she did before. A line through the words isn't good enough; it's too exposed and way too noticeable. Maya scribbles away every inch of her bad answer until all that's left is one very wet patch of ink. At least she can't see the words any more.

She scoffs quietly: the mess she just made caused only by three words. They morphed into a stain, a defect, a mark that refuses to vanish from the piece of solid white paper that isn't pristine any longer. It's there, out in the open and Mr. Matthews will think she doesn't know the answer—well, Maya does know—but that's not what her teacher will think. The whole test is tainted by her pen, her first thought, her mind.

Maya doesn't put much effort into the rest of the test.

She just…she just doesn't know how to compose her thoughts into something intelligent enough.

(How to make her thoughts good enough).

It's when she sits at Riley's dining table later that night, face-to-face with her history teacher looking her dead in the eye, when he says: "I won't let you fail."

That's when she realizes she finally has something to fall back on.

Mr. and Mrs. Matthews insist that Maya stay the night. It's mainly because Riley kept begging her parents to let her and Maya have a sleepover, but Maya didn't complain. She loves being with her best friend.

It's one in the morning and Maya is wide-awake. Riley lost their bet of "Can Riley Pull an All-Nighter?" by conking out ten minutes ago. Now she is drooling incessantly on her pillow, her eyelids fluttering with dreams. Maya didn't mind; she just earned five bucks from her friend's need for sleep.

She decides she's hungry after slowly going insane due to the eery sensation of silence. Maya removes herself from her cozy pile of blankets to mosey over to the fridge. Mrs. Mathews always keeps a stock of turkey sandwiches stashed for these types of situations (any kind really). Maya reaches the fridge right when Riley's little brother Auggie appears in the doorway.

"What are you doing up?" She questions the mop-headed boy. Auggie stares up at her and shrugs.

"Not tired." He replies with ease and large eyes. He steps closer to her, pulls on her pajama pants. Maya crouches down to meet him in the eyes. Auggie leans close and whispers in her ear: "I won't tell Mommy if you won't. Deal?"

Maya giggles in pure joy—something Auggie often makes her feel like doing. "I knew I liked you, kid. Deal."

They shake hands. "Good. Now hand me a sandwich, why don't ya?"

They sit at the dining table, munching on sandwiches and laughing softly at Riley's loud snoring. It's 1:30 now, and neither of them feel like going back to sleep.

"Hey," Auggie says, keeping his voice low. He licks his fingers free of mayonnaise and looks up at Maya again. "You like to color, right?"

"Sure." Maya says with a full mouth. She wipes her greasy hands on her pants and nods her head. "But kids my age call it drawing."

"Wanna color?" He asks innocently, not changing his vocabulary or wanting to behave grown up anymore. Maya smiles down at him again. It's weird, she thinks: Maya isn't one to get along—or even like—children. Usually little kids, kids at her own age, or adults for that matter, never want to be around her since she's "scary" and "frightening" and "just plain rude."

But Auggie doesn't judge her or view her like most people do.

(He's very much like his father in that aspect).

It's when she utters: "sure" and spots Auggie's dimples in the dark when she thinks she's actually not so bad.

Riley. Oh Riley, Riley, Riley. There's something about this girl that makes Maya feel…good. There's really no other way to describe it.

There is a reason why Maya wakes up every weekday at 5:45 am: if she woke up any later, she'd be late to walk with Riley to school.

There is a reason why she sits and stays by Riley in every class they have together: Riley helps her focus.

There is a reason why she sits with her at lunch: they have each other's backs.

There is a reason why she follows Riley home every day: the atmosphere is better wherever Riley goes.

There is a reason why she tells Riley—and Riley only—the truth about where she lives, where she comes from and how her dad chose his new family over her.

Riley is Riley: she is the one who listens when Maya complains about homework and about Riley's own father straight to her face. She is the one who gives her good advice which she seldom takes. She is the one who lets Maya follow her own mind and strong will without reprimanding her, yet also the one to pick up the pieces wherever Maya's ideas and vigor has led her. She's everything Maya isn't and is at the same exact time.

Most importantly, Riley is the one who calls Maya her best friend. Being a best friend to someone like Riley…well, there aren't enough words in the English language for Maya to even begin to describe how spectacular that feels.

Maya Hart's life is anything but picturesque. She's got a dad who refuses to call her or send birthday cards anymore, a mom who works harder than she should ever have to and insecurities about how she thinks and walks through life weighing on her shoulders every day.

But she's got four people in her World that make every day shine a little brighter.

It's when Mrs. Matthews offers her breakfast each morning, when Mr. Matthews assures her he won't let her fail, when Auggie shows off his dimples to her and when Riley still chooses to whisper "you're my best friend" to her and only her.

That's when she knows she'll be okay.

A/N: I really love the bond Maya has with the Matthew's family :) I hope as the show progresses that we all get to learn more about Maya's history too! I hope you all liked this :)