To be clear: President Maya had never actually expected Nana to succeed her as student council president.
What she'd wanted was simple. She'd handed Nana the spring sports meet precisely because it was low-risk — a by-the-numbers project that had been run the same way for years. Follow the template, hit the usual benchmarks, walk away with a respectable entry on her student council record.
And yet, Nana had somehow managed to stall at the very first step. She couldn't even get the sports clubs to cooperate.
It had genuinely surprised Maya. Around her, Nana never shut up — she chattered away without the slightest self-consciousness. Everyone else who had to deal with President Maya got tongue-tied within thirty seconds, stumbling over their words, going red, forgetting what they'd come to say. Nana just talked. Naturally. Like a completely normal human being.
As it turned out, that was because Nana treated Maya as a friend. The sports club members looked at the President with a very different attitude — cautiously, deferentially, half-afraid. This had nothing to do with ability. It was entirely down to how people related to whoever was standing in front of them.
"Sit down for a bit," Maya said. "I'll think of something. We're not going to let you embarrass yourself."
Nana sat. Maya's brow furrowed in concentration.
Watching Maya rack her brain on her behalf, Nana felt both moved and faintly awkward. Not so much about the project failure — that topic had been aired out already. The awkwardness came from something else entirely.
She hadn't come here about the sports meet at all.
Maybe she really was grateful for what Maya had arranged. But honestly? Nana didn't have a single ounce of ambition in her body. Stuff failed, stuff failed. If she couldn't make it in the high school student council, she'd just leave. If she couldn't get into college, she'd go find a job. She was like every other ordinary girl from Hell's Kitchen: just trying to get through the day.
She definitely didn't have the same grand designs as her friend Maya.
"This, uh..." Nana twisted her jacket hem. "Maya. I came to ask about something. I like Matt — like, I really like him. I was hoping for some advice. And also — what do you think of my new hairstyle?"
Listening to Nana, Maya nearly choked on nothing.
You're about to be publicly humiliated, and you're here to talk about a boy?
"Your new hairstyle," Maya said, keeping her voice even, "looks like a pile of poop. Your braids from when you were little were cuter." She paused. "As for worrying about whether Matt will like it — don't. He can't see it. At all."
Nana's expression went blank. Then crumpled.
"I'm such an idiot. I completely forgot Matt can't see anymore." She slumped. "And I copied this style from Liz on the cheerleading squad. Spent weeks of tips on it. Now you're roasting me for it."
Liz. Cheerleading squad. Liz—
Something clicked.
"I have an idea that will help you, Nana."
"What is it? Are you going to have Matt feel my hair? That could actually be kind of—"
"It's about the sports meet. Please have at least one ambition."
"Okay, okay! Tell me."
Maya picked up her water cup, took a slow sip to collect her thoughts, then set it down.
"Go tell the sports club members that this year, the cheerleading squad will be personally presenting awards to all the winners. And on top of that, every winner earns the right to invite one cheerleader to be their dance partner at the song-and-dance competition in Central Park."
Nana hesitated. "That'll definitely get the sports guys moving. But... will the cheerleaders actually agree to this?"
"Think about it." Maya folded her hands. "First: athletes might not all be classically handsome, but their physiques speak for themselves. More importantly — do you really think a group of girls who live for the spotlight is going to turn down an opportunity to be the center of attention at a school event?"
Their school was small and underfunded. The basketball team, the football team — first round of every city competition, gone. The cheerleaders had barely performed in front of a real crowd in years. They were starving for a stage.
"Also," Maya added, "don't tell anyone this idea came from me. And don't go straight to the cheerleaders the moment you walk out of my office — people will connect the dots. Give it some time first."
"Why does it matter?" Nana shrugged. "I genuinely don't care if people call me your shadow. Even if they say I can't do anything without you, I'm fine with it. Really."
"Well, I care." Maya's voice was quiet but firm. "You're not my shadow. You're my friend. I want you to succeed in this student council on your own merits. I want you to get into college. I want you to have enough options to actually leave Hell's Kitchen someday. I want you to be able to walk into any store on Fifth Avenue without thinking twice. I want better for you, Nana."
A long pause.
Then Nana burst out laughing.
"Ha! Maya, that was genuinely touching, I swear. But realistically — can't I just ride your coattails? You're obviously going to be a massive deal someday. As long as you don't forget little old me, I'll have a golden meal ticket for life! Ha ha ha!"
Maya's posture collapsed. She pressed a hand to her forehead.
She had been absolutely nailing that speech.
"Fine," she said, without energy. "Do what you want."
But Nana's laughter settled. Her expression turned serious in a way that didn't happen often — unhurried, and completely genuine.
"I mean it, though, Maya. I will get into college. Even if I can't keep up with your pace — I'll always be watching your back."
Maya blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity.
She was about to say something when the lunch bell chimed — the bright, cheerful sequence that echoed through the hallways.
It was worth noting: American middle schools ran on a credit system. Since this particular school operated on a four-year structure, credit accumulation began in sixth grade. Maya had long since earned enough credits and was essentially coasting through her remaining time. Nana still had requirements to fulfill, but clearly this morning's class hadn't been among them — which was why she'd been free to wander in and chat.
The bell meant morning classes were over. Time for the cafeteria.
"Come on," Maya said. "Let's get lunch."
"You go ahead," Nana said, already drifting toward the door with a bounce in her step. "I've got plans. I'm meeting Matt at the rose garden."
"What? You're skipping lunch to go see Matt? Did you make him a packed lunch or something?"
Vivid color bloomed across Nana's cheeks. She twisted her jacket hem and wouldn't quite look at Maya.
"I'm... going to confess to him. When you love someone, you should say it out loud — let them know. I'm going to tell Matt." She lifted her chin. "I love him."