Marcie remembered her first day of kindergarten.

Apprehensive, she had clutched her bag tightly, even as Adam had not-so-gently pulled her hand along. The classroom was an explosion of colors, and neat little desks were ready for another year. Flustered grown-ups struggled to contain crying children who begged for their parents not to leave. The whole scene was overwhelming, and tears had started to swell in her eyes. But in the flurry of activity, she felt arms wrapping around her, clutching her, hugging her, and Matt was saying he'd been so scared she wouldn't come.

That was the moment Marcie decided to be brave.

"Princess?"

A clear voice brought the teenager out of her musings. She focused on the man in front of her, tall, lanky, peering at her with confusion. She had been zoned out, she realized, and had missed whatever question asked.

"Um…" Marcie chewed on her lip, swinging her legs nervously in her seat. She'd been so excited when Ariel and Eric had suggested she go to school with Melody. Finally, it felt like this was something she could be comfortable with, something she understood. School was school, right? "Sorry, I didn't hear the question?"

The man brightened, while from the corner of her eye, Marcie saw Melody balk. There were only three people in this room, how could she have not heard the question? The better, more correct answer was that she hadn't been paying attention.

Nevertheless, the man took her at her word, saying, "Not a problem, your highness. I was asking at what place your reading and writing education left off? That will help me to determine where I should begin today's lesson."

"I was taking English," Marcie explained, pushing her glasses up her nose, thoughtfully adding, "We had vocab homework."

"'Vocab'?" The man, who's name Marcie could not remember, questioned quizzically.

"Vocabulary words," the redheaded teen responded, tilting her head at him. "It's all in my workbook. I brought it just in case, even though Ariel said I didn't need to. Wanna see?"

"That would probably be easiest," the man agreed, his brown eyes reluctant. He knew he was the girl's first tutor of the day, and as such, carried a responsibility to create a certain kind of atmosphere in the schoolroom.

Without hesitation, Marcie reached down into her book, pulling out the worn workbook, and flipped to a page that had been previously dog eared. Wordlessly, she lifted the book higher, offering it to the man. He took a few steps towards the teenager, taking the book from her, and studying the words intensely on the page.

It took all a half-minute for him to startle, and ask incredulously, "This is what you were learning?"

Marcie blinked, her brows pulling close together. "Yeah, why?"

The tutor flipped to another page in the workbook, almost flabbergasted. He shook his head, closing the book, and handing it back to Marcie. "Princess, how long have you been taking lessons?"

"Um…" Marcie chewed on her bottom lip again, before answering, "I started at four…so, like, ten years?"

Beside the redhead, Melody's interest was piqued as she leaned away from her wooden desk, towards Marcie, asking, "Four?"

Marcie looked at her, shrugging. "I'm a year behind my class. It's the way my birthday falls, on the cutoff date. I started younger."

"In those ten years, have your lessons covered literature?" The tutor continued on, sounding hopeful, though there was an undercurrent of doubt. "The Tales of Flynnigan Ryder, Notes of Hapes, Belladonna's Garden, Mercurial Sense?"

"We haven't read those books," Marcie frowned, before adding, "But we were gonna start Romeo and Juliet soon. That's why our vocab was stuff like 'metaphor' and 'protagonist'."

"The Tales of Flynnigan Ryder is a classic!" Melody declared. "Everyone has read it. Even Mother."

"Never heard of it," Marcie responded, brushing off the other girl's reaction. "Maybe we read it next year?"

"I read it when I was ten," Melody said, raising a single brow. She moved her body in her seat slightly, to show off a thick novel. "Now I'm reading Belladonna's Garden."

Marcie's face colored, and she felt herself bristling at the implication in Melody's voice. "I'm not stupid. I just haven't gotten there yet, is all. I'm only a ninth grader."

"Of course, your highness," the tutor came back into the conversation, trying to sound hopeful, though he still looked at Marcie doubtfully. "I am sure you will catch up to Princess Melody in no time. Why don't you spend the rest of the lesson...absorbing, the conversation about Belladonna's Garden?"

"Oh," Marcie replied, eyes flickering to her workbook, and then to the book on Melody's desk. She realized what he was trying to say: she was way behind, and there was nothing else he could do with her. "Yeah. Okay."

The day sluggishly moved on, and Marcie felt her excitement turn to dread every time a new teacher came into the room. By the time the morning ended, they had been through three, and Marcie was beginning to see the same pattern repeated. First, they were eager to meet her, kind even. Next, they asked her about school, or brought up some subject she'd never even heard off. Then, the enthusiasm faded, and ultimately she was relegated to some busywork: copy this, read that, try to follow along.

At lunchtime, she stayed behind in the schoolroom. Melody had urged her to eat, but Marcie didn't have much of an appetite. Not after having spilled half an ink jar across her paper during science and then answering that the second-longest river was the Mississippi in geography. Instead, she went up to the board, taking a piece of chalk and drawing three lines and a treble across.

She didn't realize how much time she spent absorbed at the board until she heard footsteps. Grabbing the eraser, and her bare hand, she wiped the chalk clean off. Her heart pounded as she ran back into her seat, bending her head low over a book, pretending to be interested in its contents.

Melody opened the door with no regard, letting it bang against the opposite wall. Marcie cringed, looking up at her. Melody swept her eyes over the room, finding nothing out of sorts. Her face showed a level of disappointment, almost like she had expected to catch the other teenager doing something interesting.

She went to her own desk, sitting in her seat, and after a moment, regarded Marcie. "Were you studying this whole time?"

The redhead, not wanting to get into it, and decided to give a vague reply of, "I've been busy."

"Mom and Dad asked how you were doing," Melody paused, waiting for a reaction. When she received nothing but a blank stare, she continued on. "I said Mr. Voreen said you would catch up."

"Gee, thanks," Marcie answered, dryly. She closed the book on her desk, putting it next to her book bag, alongside a growing stack of other books and papers.

"Well, he did," Melody pointed out, stubbornly. She pushed a loose lock of dark hair behind her ear, saying, "It's etiquette now anyway. This is easy, it's not even a real class. Don't make Lady Denshire mad, though."

"What happens if you make her mad?" Marcie wondered, puzzled at the odd statement.

Melody opened her mouth to respond, then promptly shut it, sitting up straight as an arrow as the telltale sound of footsteps came through the door. Marcie's head swiveled in the direction, and her face twisted at the sight.

She assumed this was Lady Denshire. She was old, ancient in anyone's book, despite the amount of face powder she used to hide her wrinkles. She was small, gray hair pulled back severely. Her dress was dark green, with subtle gold threading throughout. Her hazel eyes were razor sharp, falling first onto Melody, and then studying Marcie. It was almost like she had her figured out before she really knew her. The teenager shrank back from the heat of her intense gaze.

Her footsteps were tiny, and as she came to stand in front of the two girls, she dipped low. Marcie had been through enough of these teachers today to realize that was how they greeted them; men bowed, women bent down. It still felt odd; usually her teachers were struggling to contain a rowdy class and didn't have time for such ridiculous salutations.

"Your highnesses," the woman murmured. Then, she stood back up, and her eyes honed in on Marcie. "Princess Harmony, it is an honor to finally meet you."

"Um…yeah, same, I guess," the teen answered, causing the woman before her to frown.

Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the teen's slumped posture, asking, "Your highness, are you in possession of a straight spine?"

Marcie took in the question, and then felt her forehead crease. "Not sure, ma'am."

Melody shut her eyes, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Lady Denshire, however, was thoroughly not amused. Her mouth formed a thin, pinched line. "A Princess does not smart-mouth her tutors."

"I'm not," Marcie protested, pushing her glasses up her nose, and leaning forward. "You asked me if my spine was straight. I said I'm not sure, 'cause last time I got tested was in third grade, and they said it was kinda curved, but that I'd probably grow out of it. So, I'm not sure if I already grew out of it or if I'm still growing out of it."

Melody made a sound beside her. Marcie looked over at the other girl, perplexed. What was so funny? She looked back at Lady Denshire, who was staring daggers into the redhead. Eventually, as though seeing no other path, the woman turned on her heel back towards the board.

"Your highnesses," she instructed, picking up chalk and putting it up to the blackboard, "Let us begin today's lesson with a test. Answer the following questions on a separate paper—penmanship will be considered."

Marcie made a sound of surprise, raising her hand immediately. Melody regarded the move with confusion, unsure of what the girl was trying to accomplish.

"Lady Denshire?" Melody called out, unsure. "Harmony has her hand raised?"

The tutor looked over her shoulder, turning around, putting the chalk down. "Is there a reason your hand is raised, your highness?"

"I have a question," Marcie stated, finally lowering her arm. She leaned over her desk, resting on her elbows, and asked, "So, like, is this a test or is this a pop quiz?"

"A Princess listens the first time, your highness," Lady Denshire responded, her nose going into the air. "I stated that today's lesson will begin with a test."

"Okay, then I have another question: how many points is this test?"

Melody bit her lip again. She believed Harmony was poking fun at Lady Denshire. Lady Denshire apparently did as well, and a scowl appeared on her features, cracking her pristine powdered face.

"A Princess does not ask ridiculous questions to get a rise out of others," Lady Denshire responded, clearly vexed at the idea that she was being made to play the fool.

Marcie pushed up her glasses, under her desk fumbling with her bracelet charm. "I'm asking a serious question. How many points is this test? I don't want my grade to go down in case I don't do good."

"Perhaps your old tutors allowed such nonsense, but rest assured Princess, that I will not," the woman stated firmly, turning to go back to the board.

"Wait, hold on! One more question!" Lady Denshire huffed, but squared her shoulders back anyway, and turned to the teenager once again. "Since this is like, my first day, can I be excused from the test? 'Cause like, I don't even know what it's on, and I didn't study."

"No excuses," Lady Denshire responded, turning once again towards the board. "A Princess must be prepared at all times for whatever comes her way. Start answering the questions as I write them."

"Aw, man," Marcie complained, mostly to herself.

Melody couldn't keep from smiling, still trying to hold back giggles, as she handed Marcie clean sheet of paper. The other teen took it, and then looked at the dry inkwell before her, and going into her backpack to scrounge up a writing implement. She pulled out a dull pencil and decided it would have to do.

Melody was already scribbling down answers in neat, perfect cursive. Marcie looked at the board, squinting, but was unable to read the questions clearly, not from the angle she was sitting.

She leaned over to Melody, whispering as low as she could, "What does the first one say?"

Melody jerked, regarding her with surprise, even as Lady Denshire, with her back to them, harshly stated, "No talking!"

Marcie shrank back to her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't doing anything wrong! This solidified it; she did not like etiquette class. Or Lady Denshire for that matter.

Well, she figured, if I can't read the board, and can't talk, I got nothing else to do but sit there. Again. Or…an idea came to light in her mind, and she grinned slightly, hunching over the desk to write on the paper.

After a moment of scribbling, she leaned back, still grinning, and satisfied. She folded the paper into several squares, before grabbing it. Then, yawning, she stretched out her arms exaggeratedly far, dropping the paper onto Melody's desk.

Melody reacted to the note with surprise again, looking at the paper, to Marcie, to the paper, to Marcie. The other teen gave her a flash of a grin, her features urging the dark-haired girl to open-up the squares. Curious, Melody did, unfolding each square carefully, until she could read the messy script.

Melody gave a sharp bark of laughter, having not expected to find what she did. The laughter caused Lady Denshire to whirl around, her eyes immediately connecting to the note Melody held. Melody gasped and hid it behind her back.

"Your highness, what is that you are attempting to hide?" Lady Denshire asked, her patience running thin, and her voice piercing. She extended her hand, palm up, fingertips curling slightly. "Let me see it."

Melody looked over at Marcie, as though expecting some sort of explanation on what to do. Marcie shook her head fiercely, making a motion as if to rip the paper up and then…eat it?

"Princess Melody?" Lady Denshire's voice was sharp, enough that it caused Melody to hang her head, sighing. She slowly took out the paper from behind her back, handing it over in shame.

Lady Denshire unfolded the note. It was a crudely drawn stick figure, a word bubble coming from its mouth that said, "A Princess does not blah blah blah". Two other stick figures sat at school desks. Both had been put to sleep, judging from the amount of Z's coming from them.

Lady Denshire straightened her back even more. Her eyes swept from Melody who looked ashamed and terrified, to Marcie, who was frankly staring at her with a satisfied glean in her eyes.

"Princess Melody," Lady Denshire began, her voice cold and collected, "Who was it that decided to draw during their lesson?"

"I…I…" Melody looked back at Marcie, helplessly. She had never been in this position before, had never had to do this sort of thing. Her heart thumped in her chest, even as Marcie gave her a pleading look not to tell. She sighed. "It was Harmony."


"It was me," Adam's voice was brave, even though it quivered on the last note of his lie. Behind him, Marcie shook, clutching onto his arms as though that was all the protection she needed. He was nine, and she was five, and she saw him in this moment as all that stood between. "I forgot to close the outside trash. It's my fault the raccoons got in again."

"It's the second time!" The shadow loomed large over Adam, and Marcie felt him flinch, but despite the snarl in the voice, he did not move. "There was garbage all over the sidewalk!"

"I'm sorry, it was a mistake. I won't forget next time." Adam's voice was getting nervous now, rising an octave higher. The shadow loomed over him further; Marcie felt herself being pushed further back behind him. "I promise. I won't ever forget again!"

"Like hell you won't!"

Without warning, Adam was yanked away, leading to his startled cry. Marcie only saw him being dragged by his collar into the other room, the door slamming behind. She ran to the door, tugging at the knob with all her might, and when that failed, pounding her fists against it.

"It was my fault!" She cried out, sobbing, beating her small hands against the wood. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! It was my fault!"


Marcie actively face palmed. So much for not snitching and getting through this together. She looked up at Lady Denshire, regarding her plainly, ready to accept whatever punishment. Maybe it would be lines. Maybe an essay. She knew the risk of passing notes.

"Princess Harmony, you have been nothing but a distraction from today's lesson, and I am sure to let their majesties know as much," two bright spots had appeared on her cheeks through the powder; she wasn't annoyed now, she was mad. "I haven't the faintest idea with whom you were raised, or where, but it is clear that it has left a lasting, detrimental impact on your character. I should have known as much from reading about your exploits climbing up a ship's mast."

Marcie's eyes bounced back and forth, her red brows knitting together. "What do you mean reading about me climbing up?"

"It was in all the papers yesterday," Melody broke in, seemingly just as confused as the other teenager. "You didn't see?"

"How would I see it?" Marcie wondered, bewildered, looking at the dark-haired girl funnily. "I don't get newspapers. Why would anyone wanna talk about that? It wasn't a big deal."

"Because princesses, especially missing-just-returned ones, don't climb all the way up to a crow's nest every day!" Melody exclaimed. "Most everyone who was interviewed said you were fearless—up until Dad had to pull you out of the harbor. Is it true you can't swim? Is that why you never want to go down to the beach?"

"It wasn't a big deal," Marcie reiterated, dodging the questions thrown at her, looking back at Lady Denshire. "What does that have to do with my character anyway?"

"It shows an astounding amount of carelessness on your part, Princess," Lady Denshire said, in a determined tone. "One I can only imagine comes from being raised without proper instruction."

Marcie's eyes darkened. "My brother, and my friends, and my town, made me into who I am today."

"Disrespectful enough to pass notes in my class?"

"Well, if you would've answered my questions instead of telling me what a princess doesn't do, maybe I wouldn't have passed a note in the first place," Marcie answered, frustrated now. "It's not my fault, I didn't do anything that bad."

"A Princess does not argue with her teachers!" Lady Denshire lashed out, voice raising to make her point known.

"I'm not arguing!" Marcie responded in kind, her voice raised in annoyance as well. "You're not listening to me!"

"A Princess does not—!"

"I don't want to be a Princess!" Marcie finally exploded at the woman, unable to find any other way for her opinion to come across. "I never even asked to come here! I was totally fine being normal, going to normal school, having a normal life!"

"Your highness has a lot to learn about being grateful for her position," Lady Denshire snapped back. "You should be thankful to be on the receiving end of such a fine education!"

"Thankful, for this?!" Marcie declared, incredulous at the notion. "Lady, this class sucks. This school sucks."

"Well, if you have such strong opinions on the nature of your lessons, perhaps it would behoove your highness to not attend them!" Lady Denshire replied, a bite to her words.

Marcie stared at her. "What does that even mean?"

This time, it was Lady Denshire who was face-palming. She pointed at the door to the room. "You are dismissed, your highness, until you are capable of acting appropriately, and with an apology in hand."

"You're kicking me out?" Marcie asked, breathlessly, feeling a cold sweat take over. She'd never been kicked out of class, ever! Her fingers tightened into a fist. She had to be brave. "Well…fine!"

She grabbed her backpack, dropping her pencil inside, and stood up. She was at least twice the size of the old woman, who regarded her with a level of disdain. Melody watched the exchange with wide eyes, her mouth forming a perfect "o" in horror.

"This isn't even a real class anyway," the teen said, tugging the zipper closed as she grabbed her bag, and slinging the bag across her shoulders. Huffing, she continued speaking as she walked out the door, stating, "Melody said so."


By evening, word had gotten around the palace.

Princess Harmony had gotten into a fistfight with Lady Denshire, in which Lady Denshire won, and decided the Princess was no longer welcome in her classroom.

In reality, Ariel and Eric had received a host of complaints from the tutors who were able to meet the Princess, and even the ones who hadn't. Most seemed to be issues stemming from the fact that Harmony was so far behind it would take months for her to be at the same level as Melody, or frankly, any other teenager living in the kingdom, according to Royal Charter standards. Add to that the issues surrounding this note that the girl had passed—one that had made Eric laugh until his wife had elbowed him in the ribs.

Ariel waited until after dinner to finally get to the bottom of it all. She hadn't expected the teen to show for the meal, but still a part of her was disappointed. She worried that the progress they were making could have been wiped away in a single moment.

Thankfully, even in a palace so big, there were no secrets, especially as to where a certain redheaded teenager had spent a large part of her day.

"Your majesty!" The Stable Master said, doffing his cap immediately upon seeing Ariel. He bowed, and the Queen smiled as he came up. He put a palm to his forehead then, as though thinking too hard, saying, "Wait, I thought you weren't supposed to be riding? On the count of the Doctor's orders?"

Ariel's smile dipped, and her shoulders dropped slightly. She sighed. "Eric came and spoke to you, didn't he?"

"Yes, ma'am, he did," Then the man frowned, closing his eyes as he said, "I wasn't supposed to say that."

"It's alright," Ariel returned. "I'm actually not here to go riding. I heard…well, more like overheard…that she might be out here?"

The Stable Master's gaze turned upwards, past the horses, towards the hayloft. "Came out here hours ago, asking if it wouldn't be too much trouble to go up, if she kept out of the way. I said sure, and there she's stayed."

"I see," Ariel answered, following his line of sight, but seeing nothing. Not a shoe, nor an arm, nor a redheaded teenager. "Do you mind if I talk to her? Maybe I can get her to come down."

"By all means, your majesty," the Stable Master replied, shaking his head. "Not sure what a Princess wants to be doing out in this barn, but she's kept to her word, hasn't made a sound or gotten in the way."

"That's something," Ariel said, though whether it was a good something or a bad something she wasn't sure. "Hopefully this won't take too long."

"I'll go in for dinner, ma'am, give you and the Princess some time," the Stable Master said, eager to look for any excuse to go in and get more food.

"That would be nice, thank you," Ariel said, watching as the man bowed, and then walked off in the direction of the palace. All that was left was the quiet noises of the barn; horses in their stalls, some neighing softly, others clicking or stomping. The hayloft was silent.

Determined, Ariel walked to the ladder, lifting her skirts slightly so that she could climb up. Her head floated above the loft when she saw the teenager, who was laying on her stomach, using her schoolbag as a pillow, facing outwards, resting her chin in her arms. She watched Ariel with mild interest, but said nothing.

Ariel noted her eyes were red and puffy; she'd been crying. How had no one heard her? "When you didn't come to dinner, I was beginning to think you'd spend all night out here."

There was no reply. From behind her glasses, the girl's eyes were vividly ice blue, but whatever emotion she felt was tucked away deeply. The pale yellow dress she wore was stained with dirt and dry sticks of hay stuck to her. She no longer wore her pink outergarment; that had been sent straight to the wash after she arrived soaking wet to days ago. It didn't matter; her arms were still covered by the long sleeves of the dress.

Ariel sighed again, resisting the urge to pull the hay out from the teen's short red hair. She tried to sound soothing. "I heard about today. I know starting something new isn't always easy, but, um, when you go back, you'll see that—"

"I'm not going back."

Her reply was simple. It was like she was asking for someone to pass the syrup. She was sure of what she wanted.

"Sweetheart, school isn't easy, but you can't quit. It's important." Ariel tried in vain to make some sense to the teen, who continued to appear unimpressed. "It's only been one day—and not even a full day, a morning. We spoke to all the tutors. Everyone is willing to give you extra help in order to keep up. Even Lady Denshire is willing to do so…provided you apologize first."

"I'm not going back," Marcie reiterated, a trace of stubbornness in her voice now. "And I don't need extra help. Or any help."

Ariel felt her own stubbornness rise-up. Her voice turned hard as she said, "This isn't a debate, young lady. You're going back to school."

"Okay, I'll go to school," Marcie said suddenly, sitting up and crossing her legs in a crisscross-applesauce pattern.

Ariel blanched. Was it that easy to win the argument? She'd been expecting a lot more of a fight. "Well, alright then. I'll let your tutors know."

"No," Marcie said, tugging at the charm on her wrist. "I'm not going back there."

Ariel blinked. "But you said—"

"I said I'll go to school," the teenager answered, eyeing Ariel seriously. "Send me back to Amherst High School, and I'll go to school."

Ariel wasn't sure whether to knock her head against the wall in frustration or give the girl a tongue lashing for arguing semantics. Surely, she was not this bad as a teenager!

Marcie sat patiently, waiting for Ariel's response. A thousand scenarios flew through the woman's mind, a thousand different ways this could end, but eventually she asked, "May I come up?"

Marcie sighed, but nodded all the same, scooting back to give Ariel some room. She pushed her glasses up her nose just as Ariel made herself comfortable in the hayloft, putting her legs to the side demurely. The woman noticed Marcie's action, frowning lightly.

"How long have you worn eyeglasses?" She asked, the question having nothing to do with their previous conversation, but a thought she'd had for a while.

"Since I was four," Marcie answered, her eyes dropping to the charm on her wrist. "I kept bumping into things. Adam says the school sent home a note."

"Has your eyesight gotten better in the ten years you've worn them?" Ariel wondered, curiously. Certainly she and Eric had good vision, so it was surprising that one of their daughters did not.

Marcie shook her head. "Keeps getting worse. I should've gotten new lenses last year, and had the frames tightened too, so they don't keep slipping, but…"

The girl trailed off, shrugging. "It's okay. Could be worse. I'm thankful for what I got."

There was a bitterness to the end of her sentence, the girl still unwilling to look up. She tugged at the charm, twirling it this way and that. Ariel studied her for a long moment, biting her lip, unsure of how to respond.

At length, she said, "Lady Denshire mentioned you said something about not wanting to be a Princess."

Marcie pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them against her as tightly as she could. "She said I'm ungrateful. Maybe I am. l've got presents and a big house and food and new clothes and I know you guys are working hard to get me back. It's a lot more than I've ever had."

"But…?" Ariel probed, carefully, trying to engage the teen.

Marcie frowned, ignoring the question and supplying one of her own. "When you left your home, how long did it take for you to feel like everything was gonna be okay?"

Ariel jolted a bit at the question; she hadn't expected the girl to ask something so detailed, not after how she'd probed her. Surprised, she answered as honestly as she could with, "It took a while, more than a week."

"Ten days," Marcie corrected, still not making eye contact. "Did you wonder what would happen if it didn't end up okay?"

"It wasn't a particularly pressing concern," Ariel admitted. "I'm usually optimistic."

"Oh."

Ariel winced. That was not the answer the teen had been looking for. "Why? What do you mean if things don't end up okay?"

"I mean, what if this whole princess thing isn't for me?" Marcie answered. "Climbing up a boat shouldn't be that big of a deal, but it was. It made newspapers. That's not normal; I would know, I've never made the newspaper, and I've climbed way higher than that."

Ariel's face paled. She and Eric had been hoping to let that headline slide off without the teen ever finding out. "Who told you about that?"

"Lady Denshire, Melody, everyone else who came into this barn and didn't know I was up here," Marcie responded, ticking off the names one by one on her fingers. Her fingers folded together into a fist. "This is gonna be what it's like, until you guys get me back, isn't it? Everybody keeps saying so. I'm gonna have to be a certain way because of this Princess thing. First, I don't get to be Marcie anymore, then I've gotta act different too."

"It's a lot of adjustments to make," Ariel conceded, watching with worried eyes as the teen returned to pulling at her bracelet charm. "But these things take time. I took time. Eric and I thought, after you said you missed school, that going back would be helpful."

It was Ariel's turn to sigh now, releasing her legs. She'd been a mother for fourteen years now, and thought she was doing a decent job of it. She understood Melody, her constant need for adventure over her studies, especially in the sea. But a child who was teetering on the edge, worried over adjusting to a new life? She wasn't sure how to handle that.

"Maybe we rushed into this. Maybe you need extra lessons first, to get you to catch up, and then—"

"I'm not going back," Marcie stated, swiftly, looking up at Ariel seriously. "I'll go to school when I get back home. Not here."

"Sweetheart," Ariel tried a different approach, gently, wary of the girl's reactions. "We don't even know when you'll get back to Earth. You could be here for….a bit, until we figure the In-Between out."

"Then you'll have to figure it out faster," Marcie determined. "It's awful to sit there and not get what's going on. All those teachers think I'm stupid."

Ariel flinched at the word, but held her ground, saying firmly, "That's absolutely not true. Don't call yourself that."

Did the tutors find her a little odd? Yes, there was no way around that. Most people seemed to think so, after all. But the tutors she had seen today did say for the most part, she was quiet, unassuming, and seemed unsure of her new environment. Well, all but Lady Denshire, who found her to be impetuous and argumentative

"I'm not saying I'm stupid, only that that's what they think," Marcie continued, ignoring Ariel's protest. "I'm average, I'm okay with not standing out. And I'm only a ninth grader; 's not my fault that we haven't covered everything Melody has."

"No one is blaming you," Ariel answered swiftly, fiercely. "And please don't compare yourself to Melody. The two of you are not the same. Melody has spent her entire life in Elsemaine; you've been here for less than two weeks."

"Yeah, but I'm the one getting kicked out of class," Marcie retorted, her eyes fierce with annoyance. "Meanwhile she's the one who laughed like a hyena."

"You were the one passing notes in the first place," Ariel reminded, firmly, not letting the girl escape her role in all this.

Marcie's face scrunched into a scowl. "Oh, sure, take her side."

Ariel held back a frustrated noise, attempting to keep calm, pushing tendrils of her red hair behind her ear. Is this how her father had felt, settling arguments between her and her sisters? She would rather argue with an angry sea monster. "I'm not taking sides, but I'm positive you know better than to pass notes in school."

"Yeah, well," Marcie mumbled, feeling her resolve on the issue wane. She did know better than to pass notes, and if she'd been caught in high school, she would have faced consequences. "At least I don't rat people out."

"Melody was asked to hand over the note, and she did," Ariel corrected, leveling heavy look towards the teenager. "What would you have done in her position?"

"I would've eaten it," Marcie answered, quickly, needing no time to consider the notion.

Ariel leveled her a bewildered look. "You would have eaten paper?"

Behind her glasses, Ariel saw the resolve hardening in the girl's still puffy, ice blue eyes. As much as she put this front up, it was clear the day had taken an emotional toll on her. Still, Marcie raised her chin, defiant. "Done it before. Everyone knows snitches get stitches."

"Please, don't tell me you're alluding to violence," Ariel responded, closing her eyes, before looking up at the ceiling. She was beginning to reach her wits end with the girl. This conversation was going around and around in circles, with neither party yielding.

"If we were in real school, and she pulled a stunt like that, she'd be eating lunch alone," Marcie answered, indignation in her voice. "You know who eats lunch alone? The weird kids."

Ariel's head snapped back to the teen, sharply. "Your sister is not weird."

"How come she's always going to the beach by herself then?" Marcie wondered, her blue eyes squaring off with Ariel's. "When I've got free time, I hang out with my friends."

"You don't have the faintest idea what being a princess is like," Ariel said bitingly, anger and frustration behind her tone. Now was not the time to bring up why Melody loved the water so much. "Melody has a lot more on her plate than you realize. You can't make broad judgments about others without knowing what they're going through."

"Yeah, well, I can say for sure that I hate her," Marcie answered flatly, holding onto Ariel's stare.

She flinched at the accusation, but tried to stay calm. Flying off the handle here would not solve anything. "I know you're upset, but you can't hate your sister. You may dislike what happened but—"

"How come I can't hate her?" Marcie interrupted, brows scrunching together.

Ariel blinked, looking at the teenager with outright confusion. Was the girl being serious? "Because…she's your sister."

"What's that gotta do with anything?" Marcie asked, thick red brows still knit together. She arched a brow, reminding, "Few days ago, I didn't even know she existed."

"You can't hate your sister, and Melody will always be your sister." Ariel answered, trying to find a way to break through to the girl. "I've had disagreements with my sisters too. But hating them? That's impossible, they're my family."

"Family doesn't tattle on each other," Marcie responded, fierce in her determination. Her loyalty was unwavering. "I would never hand up Matt and Em like that. And if I did it to Adam? He'd never drive me to Kearney again."

She wasn't sure why she was pushing the envelope so far, only that she was upset that school had gone so awry. She wanted someone else to understand how it felt to be this miserable. She really didn't even care about Melody, she was more upset that that everything she did seemed to be wrong.

Ariel finally had enough, her temper breaking as she spat out, "They're not your family! We are!"

Marcie recoiled at the anger in the tone, her features wounded for a moment, before she dropped her head. It wasn't anything she didn't know, but it hurt to hear it aloud. She took in a deep, shuddering breath, steadying herself, before saying, "I'm not gonna go back to school here. You can't make me."

"Then…!" Ariel blistered, her face flushing the red of her hair. Gone was the time for staying calm and reacting neutrally. She pointed in the direction of the palace; Marcie instinctively flinched against the movement. "Then you can go to your room!"

"That's okay," Marcie answered, not really concerned with the punishment, or the words, but more Ariel's actions when she was so mad. The girl crawled past Ariel, giving the woman as wide a berth as possible, cautious, slow, and ready to duck her head if need be.

"And…And you're missing the Autumn Festival this weekend too!" Ariel lashed out again, the last threshold of punishment she could use against the teen.

Marcie put her feet into the ladder, her heart in her ears. She had to get out of here before things got worse. She could probably outpace Ariel, but she wasn't sure it would be the most sensible option in the long run. She did not offer a clever retort to the woman, knowing to quit while she was ahead.

She jumped to the ground, sneakers firm on the dirt. She heard Ariel make a noise above her, sounding like a frustrated groan. Marcie felt a twinge of guilt, deep in her gut, and thought about turning around and apologizing. Ultimately, however, she walked back slowly to the palace, shoulders low, defeated.


Disclaimer: Ariel, Eric, Melody, and the setting for this story are from The Little Mermaid, which is property of Disney. I own nothing; everything represented from the film(s), tv series, etc. is/are the property of Disney. Other characters are from my own imagination and are not associated with Disney.