Callie

We should dance when we sing!
C'mon, Mar. I know you like dancing
And people like to see it.
No one will laugh if we practice!
They won't laugh at our singing, either
'cause we practiced
and you're with me.

Tide Goes Out is great. The words are pure poetry, a good expression of her ideas about herself, and how persistence and trying hard can make things work well even when circumstances leave you high and dry or drowning. Or both at once. The melody is soothing; really, it should almost be a lullaby.

It would be a better one if she had anything to go with it.

Marie opens a new tab and tries again. Maybe violin would work? She has no idea where they'd get a violin player for splatfest, but she—no, that doesn't go with the melody at all, violin would just overwhelm it. Or maybe it's the rhythm; the background is understated, should it be faster than the melody? But maybe that would overwhelm it...

Marie tears off her headphones and beats her head on the desk. Without them on, she can hear everything: the television in the next room that Callie left on to a televised ranked match; their upstairs neighbor vacuuming; the birds outside her window.

The birds have better song-writing skills than she does.

She picks her head back up and opens a new window... or tries to. Her score-writing program produces an error message. She has 200 open, unsaved drafts-each a version of background for Tide Goes Out she decided against already. She needs to close something to continue.

Time for a break.

Marie grabs her mask and hat and heads for the door. Cookies, she decides as she pulls on her shoes. Or maybe ice cream. She'll go by the square, get a nice big cone from the cart that sets up shop outside the viewing room whenever she and Callie aren't there, sit in the park, and draw the scenery until her brain's back together. Then she'll come back here and look over those drafts with a fresh eye before deciding if they really all stank worse than Octavio.

It's not fair, Marie decides, as she takes the stairs two at a time and emerges into sunlight. Callie hasn't said a thing about having problems with her solo piece. She's sunbathing in Octo Valley today, probably napping in the sunshine again, without a care in the world. Callie gets overwhelmed easily, sure, but life comes a lot easier for her than it ever has for Marie.

The line for ice cream is short for once; Marie gets a sugar cone and they dip her scoop of cookie-dough in fast-hardening caramel. It's not far to the park from here, and by the time she's found a spot by the little stream where no one else is close enough to recognize her, it's made a nice hard shell for her to bite through.

Marie's got half the caramel eaten and a serious dent made in the ice cream when a shadow falls over her. She looks up to see Crusty Sean standing over her, a misshapen blue squidsicle with candy suckers clutched in his claw. "May I?"

Marie grins and pats the grass beside her. "Go ahead. Been a while since we caught up; how's your folks, Sean?"

Sean settles into the grass beside Marie and bites off one of the squidsicle's gummy suckers. "They're very well. Enjoying their retirement. They keep urging me to do something better than sell shoes, but..." he shakes his head.

Marie bites another chunk of caramel. "It can be hard to know what you really like doing," Marie says, and almost laughs. "I don't think I really understood that until Cal and I had jobs at Walleye; it took three days to know that, whatever it is, it's not that."

Sean's almost got the head of his squidsicle gone. "I like selling things, but shoes are... I don't know." He takes a moment to regard his own feet. "I can't get excited about them. Never really have. But I didn't know I liked selling things at all until I got hired at Shella Fresh. Still wish I could make my living cooking, though. I don't have enough time to play in the kitchen and do my job."

Marie grins, finishing her caramel and chasing a drip with her tongue. "I didn't think I was good at singing until Callie convinced me to try, when we were kids. I'm not sure I wanna sing forever, but I can't imagine my life without music." She bites into the cone. "Trouble is, I'm not sure I can do it without her."

Sean taps her foot with a claw. "Worried about your final fest?"

"We've never been against each other before," Marie says. "Not really. And I know—after this, she wants to go into movies and television. And I don't know what I want. But it won't be the same."

Sean regards his bare popsicle stick. "Nothing ever is. But the changes don't have to be bad ones. Do you like being on the news?"

"Love it," Marie says at once, finishing her cone. "I'd do it every day, if I could. I just wish everyone didn't stare at me all the time."

"Why not try radio, then?" Sean shrugs. "Not much money in it for starters, but you must have savings. Host a show or two, see how you feel about that, it'll keep you in people's minds if you decide to go back into tv but may offer you a new outlet otherwise."

That's... actually a good idea. Marie elbows him. "I'll think about it. As for you, Mr. Salesman Cook, why not try opening a dining cart?"

Crusty Sean gapes at her. Marie gives him a wave and leaves before he can think of a way to protest. Radio, huh...

But first, she has to get through this—splatfest and song writing. Time to get back to it. But sign-ups are open now. Might as well get it over with.

Marie ducks over and signs up for Team Callie. Because Callie deserves it.