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Nicola: You're right, the lust is kicking in big time for Michael. Now we have to wait for him to realize the lust is love.
Mag: George Clooney and Mother Teresa . . . that was Liz and Michael, right? Let's see, they break up in chapter . . . I honestly have no idea. And I know it sucks, but I promise they WILL break up eventually. As will Max and Maria. And they're all going to be changed people for it. Not completely changed, but somewhat changed.
Steffi: You want a hint as to when their first kiss is? Well . . . oh, here comes more frustration . . . it's a long time from now. Let's see, in the fic, they're in February, Valentine's Day-ish, and when Michael and Maria kiss, it's like mid-April.
Zoya: So you're calling Liz "thing" now? I like! I'm not warning you when her POV is, though! ha ha ha, I'm so mean!
misty: Oh, there's going to be more than 50 chapter of tension. (I'm so cruel!) But no, you won't have to wait until the very end to get the M+M action, though you will have to wait awhile.
meredith1010: I know, wouldn't it be nice to have Michael waiting on you like that? Every girl's fantasy. You're right, he's sooooo in love. He just needs to realize it! He's a dumb-ass!
emadaps: You're just eagerly anticipating Liz crying, aren't you? It will happen, though I can't pinpoint exactly when.
maji343:

I think one of the reasons why they joke about the drinking is because they don't wanna face how serious things are getting now.

This is a good observation and so true. In fact, the reason why Michael and Maria joke about and make light of so many things in their lives is that they're deathly afraid of anything serious. At all. It's much easier to live a carefree, wild life.
Lume: Thanks, I'm glad you liked Amy's thoughts in that part.
Sarah: Scroll down quickly through the UC parts. That's an excellent strategy! I'm glad you loved the church scene so much. The funniest you've read in the fandom? Wow, what a compliment! Thanks, hun!
mmluver89: Hold on to the idea that Michael and Liz are going to break up, because I promise they will, but it might not be soon. And yes, I agree with you, Liz is a bad captain. She might get better, but she'll never be like Maria. And let's face it, that's what she wants right now, is to be like Maria. Deluded Liz.
Dee: Oh, I'm so happy to have you reading this! I don't know how you managed to catch up, but I'm sure glad you did! lol, yes, Maria was definitely a "Promiscuous Girl" and she probably always will be to an extent, but she's calming it down just a little bit.
laumika and the History of Fashion Class: Oh my gosh, thanks so much you guys! I love to know that you're reading (and that I'm able to help you with your English and your slang--I'm love slang!) I can relate to not paying attention during class. I often read Candy stories during my classes, too. And the Candy love is . . . later. Much later. But it will be worth it, I promise! You should all become members here at CID, by the way. We would love to have you. Again, thanks so much for reading. It amazes me how bilingual a lot of M+M fans are!
JulyMichelle:

i think more important than their lovelife is their friendship

This is a very good observation! Michael and Maria's friendship is the foundation of their entire relationship, which is what makes pursuing anything romantic so terrifying for them. They don't want to risk ruining their friendship. This is why Michael is able to date Liz so easily, though. Their relationship really doesn't have any foundation, and it doesn't scare him at all. I can't promise that they will be over soon. In fact, they still are going to date for awhile, but . . . come on, it's Michael and Liz. It's not as though they're ever going to have a great relationship.

Thanks, everyone! And to my strikers who are (hopefully) still reading and just not feedbacking . . . one of these days, I'll get words out of you again!








Part 44

The next day, Maria forced herself to get up and go to class. As fun as it was to hang around and be lazy, she still had graduation to worry about. Nerds seemed less willing to do her homework than they used to, so now she actually had to take notes in lectures and pay attention and study. It was horrible.

She was only on her way to her first class when her cell phone rang. She had a feeling she knew who it was, but she glanced at the caller ID anyway.

Michael.

Smiling, she flipped her phone. "You're calling me already? I thought you'd last a little longer."

"I just wanted to make sure you were doin' alright," he said.

"Yes, because getting my stomach pumped hinders my ability to walk to class," she said sarcastically.

After a bit of a pause, he asked, "So you're doin' alright?"

"Oh my god, somehow I'm surviving," she said. "Michael, this is, like, beyond spoiling. This is practically parenting." When she said it, she almost cracked up laughing, because she could never seriously think of her sexy friend like that.

"Just be grateful," he said. "I'll see you later."

"You'll call me later," she said matter-of-factly, knowing him well enough to know he would.

"Yeah, probably," he admitted. "Bye."

"Bye." She closed her phone again and shook her head, unable to keep from smiling. As much as she acted exasperated with his caretaking behavior, she loved it. He was so adorable. Still annoying, but adorable, too.

She was still smiling and thinking about him when she heard someone say her name. She looked around for the source, but she quickly realized that no one was talking to her. Two sorority-type girls was talking about her.

Well, that's good, she thought. At least some people remember their former campus queen. Except . . . they weren't saying nice things.

"Yeah, and apparently she was throwing herself all over every guy in the room," one of the girls said, apparently unaware that the object of her conversation was within hearing distance. "You know that Brad guy that lives there? He was practically peeling her off him."

"Oh, that's so desperate," the other girl said.

Maria couldn't remember exactly what had happened, but she knew that was a lie. That creep and his friends had been trying to take advantage of her. She remembered the fear.

"Well, the whole thing was obviously just an attempt to get attention," the first girl went on. "She's not that popular anymore, and her looks are definitely fading, so she was trying to get people to notice her again."

"Yeah," the other girl agreed. "She's just jealous of Liz."

Maria looked away, unable to believe what she was hearing. She knew she wasn't as popular anymore, but she couldn't believe that girls who had probably at one time idolized her were slamming her like that. Was everyone slamming her like that? There had been a time when she would have marched right up to them and had it out, but not anymore. Because for once in her life, she wasn't sure she would win.

It was a suck feeling, what she felt. She felt like the Britney Spears of the university: screwed up and a has-been.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Michael walked in the door later that afternoon, he found Maria sitting in the kitchen with an opened carton of ice cream in front of her. From what he could tell, she was already halfway through it.

"Uh-oh," he said, sitting down across from her. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you always assume something's wrong when I eat ice cream, huh?"

"Uh, 'cause I know you."

She groaned. "I hate you."

He took her spoon out of her hand and took a bite himself. "What's wrong?" he asked again, growing impatient.

"Everything," she answered, seizing her spoon back again. "Everything sucks."

He raised his eyebrows, instantly a little worried.

"Well, not everything," she assured him. "Don't worry. I'm indulging in ice cream, not booze."

"You still haven't answered my question. What the hell's wrong?"

She sighed, digging the spoon around in the ice cream, not really eating it anymore. "Okay, let me ask you something," she said, "and just answer in a totally honest, male way."

"As opposed to that female way I'm so well known for?"

She rolled her eyes and said. "Would you get serious?"

"Would you get to the asking?"

She bit her bottom lip for a moment before inquiring, "Am I getting ugly?"

Had he not been sitting, the question would have knocked him off his feet. "What?" he spat in response.

"You heard me. Am I getting ugly?"

He just sat there, dumbfounded, wondering what had triggered the absurd question.

"Great, no answer. That means I am," she concluded.

"No, Maria, I'm just . . . I'm shocked that you would even think that. Why the hell would you think that?"

"I don't think it, but apparently other people do. I heard these two girls talking today, and they basically said that I'm getting unpopular and ugly."

"Well, then they're either jealous or insane," Michael said. "I'm not gonna lie, Maria. You're, like, the hottest girl I've ever seen."

She smiled a little, and her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah."

She paused momentarily, then asked, "What about Liz?"

Shit, he thought. Forgot about her. "Well, that's different. She's got that whole sweet, innocent look goin' on. You got the wild, passionate thing."

She stared right at him and asked a question that he wasn't expecting. "Which one do you like best?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Because he didn't know.

Just then, the front door opened and Liz walked in. "Hey, guys," she said. She came to stand beside Michael and noted, "Ooh. Ice cream. What happened?"

"Nothin'," Michael replied, hoping to keep the conversation between himself and Maria. It wasn't something Liz needed to hear.

"Hey, so, how'd practice go yesterday?" Maria asked her.

"Oh, um . . . good," Liz replied.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Did you guys drill it with music?"

Liz nodded. "Mmm-hmm."

"So you think it's gonna be ready in-gosh, a week?"

"Oh, yeah, it . . . looked good in practice."

"Good," Maria said. "Good job, Liz."

Liz smiled. "Hmm."

Michael could tell without doubt that his girlfriend was lying. That dance team hadn't spent one second practicing. But it would only piss Maria off if she knew, and it sounded like she'd already had a bad enough day.

Just then, Michael heard someone else come into the room and clear her oh-so-religious throat. "Sorry," Amy said. "I don't mean to interrupt."

"Ice cream," Michael muttered, taking Maria's spoon once again and delving in. Whenever that woman came around, his day always went to hell, too.

"Maria, can I speak to you for a moment?" Amy asked.

Maria didn't move a muscle, but Michael could tell she was thinking about it. "Don't do it," he said.

She glanced down at him, then back up at her mother. It was obvious she didn't want to, but she gave in anyway. "If I'm not out in five minutes," she said, "come save my life again."

He sighed heavily as she followed her mother into the bedroom. If Amy did anything to upset Maria, which she undoubtedly would, she'd have one very pissed off roommate on her hands.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria sat down on the bed a safe distance away from her mother, dreading the lecture she was probably about to receive. It was inevitable, though, and she knew it, so she figured she'd just get it over with.

Amy sighed and said, "You can blame me for your reckless behavior the other night all you want, but in the end it was your choice, so I refuse to feel guilty."

"Great," Maria said, not really caring. Contrary to what Amy obviously thought, she didn't blame her. She just didn't like her.

"I just wanted to get that out in the air," Amy said.

"Before you lecture me?" Maria guessed.

"Maria, I just want you to make some changes," she said. "How long have you been doing this now? Eight, ten years?"

"Doing what?"

"Being a selfish, spoiled little girl."

"Selfish?" she echoed. "Spoiled? Okay, I have my moments, but don't make me out to be a bad person. I'm not a bad person." Was she?

"Well, you're not who I wanted you to be," Amy came right out and said. "When you were born, Maria, even though I knew it'd be difficult, even though I knew we'd have our troubles, I thought we'd be the best of friends. I thought we'd have that kind of mother-daughter relationship. I thought you'd be smart and compassionate and talented."

"Oh, and I'm not any of those things?"

"If you are, I definitely don't see it," Amy said. "You've obviously put little effort into your higher education. You don't seem to respect or care for anyone, except for your roommates. And you're pursuing this dance thing as though it's actually attainable."

"Wow," Maria said. "You really are a bitch."

"One of these days, you'll wake up and see that I'm right," Amy went on. "You should have listened to me. You should have let me guide you."

"No, thanks."

"It just breaks my heart, Maria," Amy said dramatically, holding one hand to her chest. "I wanted better for you."

Maria shook her head in disbelief and asked, "What's so bad about this? You don't get it, Mom. I'm happy. I'm happy here."

"Happy enough to almost drink yourself to death?"

"You see, that's why I don't want you here, Mom! Because when you are here, I'm not happy! Don't you get it? You're not a good mother. You're not."

"No, I am, Maria. It's you who's not a good daughter."

"Why can't you just accept me, Mom?" she demanded, rising to her feet. "I make mistakes; I have problems. Oh, well!"

"Oh well?"

"Yes! God, do you not understand that constant put-downs aren't motivation for leading a better life?" Maria groaned in utter exasperation and stormed out of the room. She couldn't take another second of it.

Her mother followed her out into the living room. Michael and Liz were still there. Max, Kyle, Isabel, and Tess had joined them as well. They all stopped what they were doing and looked up when commotion flew into the room.

"Listen to me, Maria!" Amy yelled.

"No!" she shouted, whirling back around to face her. "I'm tired of listening to you! I'm tired of hearing about what a screw-up I am! I'm tired of being told I should be all these things I'm not! I don't wanna listen, Mom! I hate it!"

"Well, I hate you, Maria!"

Maria froze, unable to believe her mother had just said that. She'd said some pretty awful things over time, but that had to be the worse. Maria couldn't even formulate a response.

"I do!" Amy said. "I never thought I'd say that about my own daughter, but I do. I love you, but at the same time . . . I hate the person you've become. I hate that you won't listen to me, that you won't let me help you."

Maria felt tears sting her eyes, but she tried to blink them away. "Stop," she pleaded.

But Amy didn't stop. She just kept going. "I hate that you drink, and you don't go to church, and you treat sex like it's not sacred, and you lie and you manipulate and you cheat and you steal. I hate all those things, Maria, so much!"

"Stop," Maria said again, closing her eyes as one tear fell over. Her own mother hated her. It was something she had never thought was possible, no matter how bad it got.

"I won't stop, Maria. You need to hear this! I understand now that you will never be what I want you to be!"

Maria cried harder, wishing she could stop.

"Ms. DeLuca . . ." Max tried to interject.

"Don't defend her, Max. You have no reason to." She turned her attention back to Maria then and kept hounding her. "You will never be successful; you will never be respectable."

"Stop, please!"

"You will be what you are right now for the rest of your life, and that is a selfish, spoiled little whore!"

Maria choked out a sob, almost falling to her knees.

But before Amy could go on, Michael stepped in. "Hey!" he shouted, coming to stand in between them. "Don't you ever call her that!"

"Why not? It's true, and she knows it."

"Shut up!" he roared, pointing a finger at her. "Shut your self-righteous mouth!"

Maria calmed down a bit when Amy was silent and managed to open her teary eyes.

"You think you're some great person," Michael went on, his anger towards her greater than any Maria had ever seen before. "You think you're good. But a good person would never hate her daughter. So you're a bad person, Amy. But you're too deluded to realize it."

She clenched her jaw and growled, "How dare you--"

"No, how dare you!" he cut in. "How dare you waltz in here, acting like you know everything, acting like you're better than us! I'm fuckin' sick of it! I am not gonna let you stay here and beat down my best friend!"

Maria's mouth dropped open a little. Had he just said . . .

He opened the door with one hand, his eyes locked on hers. "So get the hell out of our house."

Amy looked at him in utter astonishment for a few seconds, then turned and looked at everyone else pleadingly. No one made a move to defend her.

"Max?" she tried. Obviously she thought she could get through to him.

"You need to leave, Ms. DeLuca," he said sternly. "Right now."

She looked back at Michael again and protested, "But, my things . . ."

"Get out," Michael said again, "or I swear to fucking God, I'll throw you out."

Maria bent down and picked up Amy's purse from where it was sitting on the floor and threw it at her angrily. Amy caught it, staring at her in astonishment. Maria stood beside Michael, the two of them an unbreakable united front against her. She seemed to be understanding in that moment that it was really over, that she would never be welcome there again, and that this might be the last time she would ever see any of them.

"You two deserve each other," she muttered in disdain as she walked out the front door and out of their lives. "You're all going to hell."

Michael slammed the door the moment she was gone, and nobody said anything. He still looked furious, and everyone else looked shocked. Maria wasn't sure how to feel. Part of her was still stunned and saddened by her mother's words. The other part couldn't stop thinking about the way Michael had passionately defended her.

Max came up to her and asked, "Are you okay?"

She looked Michael in the eye and nodded mutely. She was going to be fine . . . thanks to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The door to Maria's bedroom was slightly ajar that night, so Michael didn't bother to knock. Not that he would have anyway. She never seemed to mind him walking in there without knocking.

He pushed open the door and found her lying on the bed, on her side. She looked up at him and said, "Hey."

"Hey," he echoed, shutting the door. "How you doin'?"

She sat up and smiled a little. "Do you realize how many times you've asked me that today?"

"Do you realize how many times you've avoided answering?" he asked in return.

She considered it for a moment and said, "Fair enough."

He sat down beside her on the bed, unsure how to approach what was probably a difficult subject for her, so he just began with, "That was some pretty crappy stuff your mom said."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I always knew she didn't like me. But now I know she hates me. It's just kinda . . . but I guess I hate her, too, so . . ." She trailed off and shrugged.

Michael nodded. He was definitely a member of the Amy DeLuca hate-club as well. Most people were. "I'm sorry I got into it," he said. "Maybe I shouldn't have, but . . ." He paused a moment, remembering the fury he had felt towards that woman in that moment, the strong desire to protect his friend from all her hurtful remarks. "Max should've said something."

She shrugged. "He tried. It's not in his nature."

"I guess not." Michael sighed. "Oh, man, Maria. In eight years, I've never once seen you cry," he said, "and now that I have, I just . . . don't like it."

"I don't like it, either," she said. "That's why I don't do it."

"Yeah," he said, understanding. He never cried, either.

"I guess a small part of me feels sad," she admitted, "you know, knowing that I'll never get her approval. But the bigger part of me's just, like, relieved that it's all over, that she's out of my life for good now."

"Yeah. That's kinda how I felt when my mom went to jail."

"Oh, yeah, here I am complaining about my mom. Your parents are way worse. Remember when your dad tried to hit on me?"

"Yeah, I was so pissed."

"Where is he, anyway?"

Michael shrugged. "I don't know. Last I heard, Australia. Maybe he'll get bit by one of those poisonous spiders or something." He chuckled. "I shouldn't say that, but . . . whatever."

"Whatever," she agreed with one nod of her head. "Screw parents."

"Screw parents," he agreed. "We do just fine on our own."

"Mmm-hmm," she agreed. "Seriously, though, not to get all, like, mushy, but I don't know what I'd do without you and Max and Kyle. I mean, without you, I'd probably be a lot less irritated, but . . ."

"Don't lie. You like it."

She didn't deny it. She just smiled.

"Hey, listen, though," he said. "I started thinking about something today. I know that I . . . say stuff sometimes. Like I call you a slut and whore and stuff, and I'm just kidding; but if it upsets you, you know, I'll stop."

"Oh, no, it's different when you say it," she said. "I know that you don't really mean it, so it doesn't bother me. Actually, I kind of take it as a term of endearment. Or a nickname."

He chuckled. "Okay, I just wanted to make sure."

"Yeah, so don't stop."

"Okay, I won't." He was glad he wouldn't have to. He took a deep breath and said, "Hey, so I don't . . . say stuff like this a lot, 'cause it's embarrassing, but . . . since you almost died and with all this mom stuff . . ." He trailed off and brought his gaze down to stare at the comforter, mumbling, "You are my best friend, Maria. You know that." He looked back at her, then, and saw her smiling.

"You're my best friend, too," she confessed quietly. And after a moment, she added, "Dumb-ass."

Now that was more like it. "Oh, slut."

She smiled and laughed a little, and he just sat there and watched her. Now that Amy was gone, hopefully she'd be smiling a lot more.

She had a great smile.








TBC . . .

-April