Maya.

-->

Maya

Maya had been one of few girls on the Rancho Bernardo High School Robotics team, but, with all due respect to the moral and personal virtues of the one or two others, she was perhaps the only one that an average boy would have noticed.

I had known Maya during the one year that she was at our high school. She, back then, was notorious for building up a strong opposition toer for her political and religious views. The few people who kept her afloat were the disillusioned romantics, comprising an antisocial minority, and the men who wanted to have sex with her, comprising a majority.

One night, she handed me a Q'uran. It had been a deep blue night settling into a frighteningly uncertain future, in the November of my Senior Year. The young sophomore girl, with a sheet of auburn hair wrapped about an olive visage, allowed herself to be harassed gently by Vivik, a wildly theatrical but nonetheless Noble and Intelligent human being with a reverence for caffeine and a probing gaze that could threaten all statistical miseducation despite a maniacal grin that seemed to jeer at Reason Itself.

She had intimated few things to me without ever really feeling close to me. One night, standing in an alleyway between a row of trailers and a wall of classrooms, she told me that she had used to live on the internet for the longest time.

I commented on some headlights we saw from the street, postulating something to the effect of them being space aliens. She faked an awkward, stifled giggle.