Hey guys! Thanks to all that reviewed:
ChainedPromisesAndBrokenDreams: Thanks! Yes, I'll be sure to include some Ariel/Vanessa/Eric drama.
MiAmorEstaAqui: Gracias, amiga! Your comment meant a lot to me!
Lalita: Love youuuuuu….And Jim Hawkins also makes me swooon!
Unbelievable: Thanks, hon! Yeah, my name is Crystal. I'll be updating soon! Be sure to R&R!
CalzonaMerDer: Sweetie, this is so cute. It is one of my fave types of comments when someone says they like Disney OK, and then my story amped up their love for Disney! And…judging by your pen name I'm guessing you're a…Grey's Anatomy fan? OMG, I LOVE Grey's Anatomy! Callie and Arizona, Meredith and Derek…do you like Cristina and Owen? Sorry I'm rambling. It's just that I love watching Grey's Anatomy.
Okay, enough of this…let's get on with the chapter! And if u guys would like to see other POVs besides Char, Cindy, Jim, Ariel, Wendy, Peter, and Hades (you know, Belle, Mulan, any other Disney character) put it in a PM or a review. If there are no reviews or anything asking for extra POVs, we'll just stick to our current POVs. Kk?
On with the story! (I feel so bad for Arista in this chapter. Stupid sisters!)
I have a feeling this will end up bad…
-Ariel
The clattering noises coming from downstairs woke Ariel up. She rolled over in bed, her red hair falling over, standing out in a scarlet cloud around her face. She peered down at the clock. It read 3:43.
Ariel closed her blue eyes again—only to be awakened by the clattering once again. Sucking in air between her teeth, Ariel pushed herself out of bed; wearing white high-waisted shorts and a blue lace tank top.
Pushing her hair formally behind her ears, she started out into the hallway. She grabbed her iPhone off her dresser, her fingers poised and ready to call 9-1-1 if necessary. Her soft pink socks smothered any footsteps as she tiptoed neatly down the stairs and paused at the French doors leading into the Tritons' enormous kitchen.
Ariel took a deep breath and pushed the door open. A girl with a greasy mop of blonde hair in a messy bun, a white England-schoolgirl nightgown, and red eyeshades dangling around her neck was rumaging around in the Tritons' fridge. Ariel could only stare as she eyed last night's shepherd's pie in the girl's hand.
She looked at the table, and noticed the girl had already set out a cold turkey leg, watermelon slices, a package of Chips Ahoy! and a half-eaten cherry pie.
The girl turned around and let out a little squeak of surprise, almost dropping the shepherd's pie.
"What. In. . . .Doing?!" Ariel hissed. "Have you gone insane, Arista?"
Arista looked sheepishly at Ariel and ate a forkful of pie. "I'm hungry. You want a cookie?"
Ariel smacked the package away from Arista. "I do not want a cookie!" Ariel grabbed the shepherd's pie and the cold turkey leg and the watermelon slices, sticking them back into the fridge, cramming them in wherever they'd fit. Meridith, the housekeeper, would fix it tomorrow.
Ariel put the cookies away, and grabbed the cherry pie away from Arista. "What's wrong with you? We just had hot dogs for dinner!"
Arista shrugged, looking close to tears. "I'm really hungry, and I just felt like eating. I'm sorry if I woke you. It's just—" Arista gestured helplessly to her ballooning tummy. "I feel so pressurized, Ariel. And I got a lot on my plate right now." She began to cry.
"Hormones," Ariel said, facepalming and sinking to the table, massaging her temples.
"I'm sorry," Arista choked.
Ariel pulled Arista in for a quick hug. "Calm down, girl," said Ariel with a reassuring smile. "Things will work out, I promise. You're having cravings. All pregnant women do."
"Ariel?" whispered Arista.
Ariel looked up while sticking the cherry pie into the fridge.
"Robbie and I went apartment shopping."
Ariel hid her surprise and didn't bat an eyelash. "Okay…and?"
"We picked an apartment. A nice one in the heart of NYC. Close enough to walk. Or take a bus if I'm feeling tired—which I probably will be."
Ariel's mouth fell open. "Wait…so you'll actually be going to school? With the baby bump visible?"
Arista shrugged. "I bought a lot of XXL sweaters. From the Men's section. At JCPenney. They'll probably hide the baby bump well."
Ariel could not believe what she was hearing. She looked at Arista. Smudged mascara, a greasy ugly mop of hair, lips colorless, wearing a schoolgirl's nightgown, wearing MEN'S SWEATERS. XXXL. From JCPenney. Living with a nerd named Robbie in an apartment all alone. In several months going to give birth to a living breathing baby. Her sister.
Was this really the same girl who had a chance at being an Olympic swimmer? Her fun-loving super-ticklish sister? The same girl went on every ride in Rockin' Rapids without barfing once? The same girl who drove her sisters nuts by staying in the bathroom for hours to fix her hair and make sure her figure was exactly right by doing the exact amount of Selana Workouts?
The girl who made sure she had a 100% chance of winning Beauty Pageant Queen and had the most boyfriends in high school so far out of all of them besides Alana, and who had kissed a boy first. Fun-loving out-there gorgeous, talented, awesome, childish, immature, hilarious Arista. She was the last one Ariel thought would be in a committed relationship with someone and ready to have a baby.
"XXXL sweaters," Ariel said vaguely, not making eye contact with Arista. "So you're really gonna carry through with this?"
"Yeah."
"The girls will find out soon enough."
"We just have to make sure they don't."
Ariel was doubtful. "And if they do?"
Arista bit her lip. "We'll deny it?"
"You're a dumb blonde, you know that?" Ariel said playfully, poking Arista's cheek. Then she sighed and walked up the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Arista called.
"To bed," Ariel responded curtly. "Are you coming?"
"Wait," said Arista. "I have to finish this pie."
At breakfast was the second big sign that made Ariel think the other girls knew about Arista's pregnancy.
The Triton girls were eating plain blueberry pancakes without honey or syrup or even butter to try and avoid the extra layer of carbs.
Adella arrived with a tray of Cheesecake Bars. They were this new thing that apparently everyone was eating. They were being made by Tiana Baker in her restaurant, Tiana's Place. Tiana Baker was a senior, and the youngest individual to run a restaurant in NYC. They were supposed to be delicious and make your tastebuds beg for more—according to the wrapper—but they were carbs. In the Triton girls' sights.
"Cheesecake Bar?" Adella offered Ariel.
"Nah."
"Andrina?"
"Eeeew."
"Aquata?"
"No, thanks,"
"Alana?"
"Pass."
"Attina?"
"Hell to the no."
"Arista?"
Usually the Triton girls were very ritualistic. Each day, just for the hell of it, one of the sisters would bring a tray of carb-loaded edibles and the girls would refuse as it was offered. Then they'd read the carb listings on the back, laugh out loud, and leave the tray for their father and Meredith, if she wanted any.
But Arista defied gravity. "Yeah!" she exclaimed, grabbing a cheesecake bar off the tray and peeling the wrapper off.
Adella's mouth dropped open, and she cut a quick glance to Attina, the oldest.
Attina leaned forward. "Uh, Arista. The correct answer is 'No, thanks.'"
Arista ignored her and bit in.
"Uh, girl!" Andrina stood up, hands on her hips. "No offense, but you can't afford any more carbs. Because you're kinda..maybe…sorta…"
"Fat?" suggested Aquata. "We don't deny here. We're a family, right?"
Arista's face kind of froze up, and Ariel's cheeks turned bright pink from embarrassment of her snarky sisters. But Arista shrugged. "I'm hungry."
"Gurrrrl," Alana drawled. "You already had, like, five pancakes already. Isn't that right, Meredith?"
Meredith turned away, not replying. She was a shy, timid woman who seemed to be afraid of the Triton Girls.
Suddenly, Arista jumped up and raced out of the kitchen into the bathroom.
"It's all those carbs," sniffed Andrina.
Slamming her palms onto the table, Ariel got up and exited sharply as well.
"Okay," she heard Adella declare. "What crawled up her ass?"
Ariel quickly stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door tightly behind her. Arista was bent over the toilet, throwing up violently.
Ariel closed her eyes and stayed shuddering against the door. She hated the noises, the smell, the tears running down Arista's cheeks. The mocking scorns of her sisters in the kitchen.
Arista stopped throwing up. She wiped her mouth and slowly lifted herself to the edge of the tub, her eyes glassy.
Ariel flipped the fan switch and gingerly closed the toilet lid, flushing it quickly. She sat next to Arista, perching in a graceful birdlike way on the edge of the tub.
"I'm not like them," whispered Arista dazedly. "I know some people call us 'The Triton Girls' behind our backs. I don't want to be known that way. I want to be known as Arista Triton. My own person. I don't want to be grouped with them like we're sticks of gum in a pack."
Ariel sighed.
"I remember Daddy asking us what we wanted to be when we grew up. You all were like, 'Princesses. Beauty queens. Fairies. Swim champions. Makeup artists. Fashionistas. Models.' I was the only one who wanted to be a musician. I wanted to go to Juilliard. Study music. I wanted to get good grades, go to a good college. I wanted to have a top-notch education, and pursue my passion at the same time."
Ariel nodded. Arista's passion was playing the saxophone. She had spend a long time working hard to become the best she could be. She was never even that much obssessed with looks as the other Triton girls.
"I wanted to be different," Arista said sadly. "I wanted to end up someone important." Her ice blue eyes narrowed. "After all, we all know that besides Attina, all of the other girls will probably end up prostitutes."
Ariel gasped. "Arista!"
Arista looked down. "Sorry. That was a little too far."
"Like hell it was!" Ariel yelled. Then she quieted down. "I guess…I agreed to help, but I didn't much, did I?"
"You helped just by keeping my secret." Arista gave Ariel a tiny smile. "Robbie pulled out his money from the bank. I gave him mine and your shares."
Ariel blinked in surprise. "Oh."
"And he called Lex. Our real estate agent."
"Mmmhmm."
"And Robbie and me agreed to buy the apartment. I'm doing New Mommy workouts at the Y, and I can still swim after the baby is born."
Ariel nodded slowly. Tears settled on her eyelashes, but she didn't wipe them away.
Arista wrapped her arms around Ariel.
Someone knocked on the door. "I heard someone barfing. Arista, is that you?"
It was Attina.
Ariel stood. Arista grabbed her arm. "No, don't open it!" she hissed.
So they just sat there, not responding, in their own sisterly world. Suddenly, Arista gasped, grabbing Ariel's hand tightly, gesturing down at her belly. "I think I felt a movement."
Ariel thought it was doubtful, but she smiled anyway. "You got someone growing inside you."
Arista laughed softly. "I'm gonna be a mother."
Ariel stood sharply, turning away and looking into the mirror. She saw a tired redhead with bags under her eyes and tears on her dark lashes. "Arista, I still don't approve. I'll help you, but I don't approve. I just don't see that you're making the right decision here."
Arista was silent for a long time—contemplating, Ariel thought smugly—but then she touhed Ariel's arm. "Think of it this way," she answered. "Mom had Attina. Then Andrina. Then Adella. Then Alana, then Aquata. She had five girls. And then she got pregnant again with me. She was a bit tired of the pain, the irritation of not being able to sleep on your side, the contractions, the morning sickness, the cravings, the difficulty of walking, climbing stairs, and all the pains and troubles that come with pregnancy. But she didn't care about that—she was focused on the hope. The hope that soon she'd have a new little girl, and the joy of holding something that was truly hers."
Ariel threw her arms in the air. "I know, Arista. I understand. But you're too young."
"Don't forget," Arista murmured. "Mom had an underage pregnancy too."
Ariel sank onto the toilet seat, covering her face with her hands.
"Arista? Aaaaariel! Open the door!" wailed Attina. "Ohmygod, I think Arista's dying."
"Dammit, Attina, she's just a little sick," Ariel snapped, opening the door a crack, gesturing for Arista to disappear from Attina's view. Attina craned her neck. "Is she alright?" her voice echoed genuine sisterly concern.
Ariel sighed. "She's fine. Let her relax for a few seconds."
Attina nodded, and Ariel smacked the door shut, watching Arista's ice blue eyes travel down to her stomach and then up to Ariel's eyes again. "Mom?" Ariel whispered. "She did?"
"She had Attina when she was seventeen, like me."
Ariel giggled. "And then the babies just kept coming, huh?"
"Exactly. And I think I'm ready. I'm mature enough, and I love kids. It'll be hard, but I can do it. And you're with me on this, right, Ariel?"
Ariel nodded. "Of course." Sighing inwardly, Ariel turned to go, images of her mother floating in her mind. Athena Waters-Triton had the same red hair as Ariel, and the same rebellious attitude as a teenager. Ariel opened the door and looked back, and realized Arista had bent over the toilet seat again.
When you want to scare your dumb sisters, a mouse is all it takes. Rule #1 of the Annoying Brothers Manual.
-Peter
"WHAT?" Cindy exploded, staring at Peter in confusion, shock, but most of all, anger. "PETER TREMAINE, YOU DID WHAT?"
Peter shied back from Cindy. He had never seen the petite, lithe, passive girl so shaken up before. He inhaled sharply. "Cindy, can you please be quiet?"
Cindy sank to her bed. "Ohhh, Peter," she breathed. "How could you do something like this?"
Peter looked down. "I loved that girl."
"What girl?"
"Wendy Darling," Peter said reluctantly. He hated owning up to love. He wanted people to think of him as fun and childish, not seeing girls in a new light and growing up.
"You can't stay a boy forever," whispered Cindy. "Oh, Peter, of course you like her. Did she like you back?"
Peter looked down at the floor again. "No," he said in a voice so low Cindy had to strain to hear him. She buried her face in her hands, let out a long intake of breath, then peered out between her fingers. "You need to return the Crystal."
"They found it."
Cindy did a double-take. "They WHAT?" She stood up, grabbing Peter's arm. "So now you're going to jail?"
"Not exactly," Peter admitted. "I hid the Crystal somewhere."
Cindy furrowed her brow. "Okay…"
"I hid it in one of my classmates' rooms."
Cindy once again had that shocked/horrified look on her face that sent guilt erupting in waves throughout Jim's body. "WHY? Why would you DO that?"
"He stole her from me. Wendy."
Cindy collapsed onto her bed. "Peter. You have GOT to be kidding me, Peter. Do you realize what you've done?! You've framed that poor innocent kid and now he's going to be condemned for murder! How can you live with yourself?"
Peter sighed. "I don't know, but I was hoping Wendy would forget him and move on once he'd die."
Cindy shook her head. "True love never dies. Only grows stronger through time."
Peter slammed his hand against her desk, knocking some of her makeup off the table. "That's not true! People break up all the time! And this wasn't true love. They were just dancing. And besides, Hawkins could get himself a million girlfriends. He has to go after the one I want."
Cindy shook his head. "Oh, Peter."
He hated when she said that. "Stop it, Cindy."
She sat up slowly and looked at him thoughtfully. "I don't know what to say, Peter."
Peter put his finger to his lips. "Just keep the secret."
Cindy stood. "No. I can't, it's wrong. You have to call in and say the kid didn't do it; he was framed."
"What, so I can DIE?" Peter roared.
Cindy bit her lip hard, so hard she tasted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. "Peter, I don't know."
"Just keep the secret," Peter whispered. "Everything will work out. The Agents aren't really gonna kill a minor. They're just doing it to scare a bunch of chicken New Yorkers."
Cindy looked doubtful.
"Please, Cindy," Peter begged.
Cindy sucked in air. "Fine."
Peter smiled and turned to leave. But Cindy grabbed his arm. "Now you have to do something for me," she said.
Peter raised an eyebrow curiously.
"Get my phone."
Peter leaned back. "Wait, what? Get your phone? Where is it?"
Cindy looked both ways, then turned back to Peter. "In Stepmother's room. In her top drawer. The key is around her neck, got it? I need to talk to someone."
"Who?"
Cindy didn't reply. "Just go."
Confused, Peter scratched his messy mane of red hair. "How?"
Cindy started back to bed. "Your call. Whatever way you want; but Peter, I want my phone by morning. Got it?"
Peter nodded. "I swear."
The first thing he did was visit the mouse cages in the servant's kitchen. He checked each one, and found them all empty. Just as he was losing hope, he arrived at the last one and spotted a little field mouse scampering around. Grinning, Peter opened the cage a bit. The mouse rushed out, and Peter clamped it tightly in his cupped hands.
"It's okay," he said breathlessly, as he walked upstairs to a small room next door to Drisella's. Smiling inwardly at what he was supposed to do, he opened the door a crack and knelt to the ground. He opened his mouth.
"Luuuuucifer…."
The fat black and white cat lying in a bed in the corner of the dark room let out a feeble meow. Go away, the meow said.
Peter didn't give up. "Luuuuucifer. Smell the mousy-mouse? Look, I got a nice fresh one for you. Straight from the mousecage. Lucifer! Wake up!"
The cat now opened one of his yellow eyes and got out of bed, running to Peter's ankles and circling him like a fat panther.
Peter smiled and began to back out of the room.
"Meeeeeay," Lucifer moaned at the movement of his delicious mouse, and began to follow Peter. Peter twisted the doorhandle to Drisella's room, tiptoed in, and bent down. "Lucifer! See the mouse? See the tasty mouse? Ready for it? Ready for it, Lucifer?"
Lucifer literally drooled on the ground while bouncing on all four chubby paws, his gaze locked on the wiggling field mouse.
Peter took a deep breath and tossed the mouse into Drisella's bed. It scampered underneath the covers and to Peter's intense glee—into Drisella's blue and green nightgown. Lucifer, with a yowl of delight, leaped off the ground, went airborne, and then disappeared into Drisella's duvet.
Peter raced into the hallway, laughing, and heard the terrified shriek of his stepsister. He saw Anastasia, red hair up in neon pink rollers, run out. "What the heck was that?" she demanded.
"I don't know," Peter lied. "Better go check."
Drisella came running out, Lucifer on her face, clawing, biting, snapping. Anastasia gasped. There were angry scratch marks on Drisella's face and arms. Peter stifled a laugh. He felt guilty, but this was for Cindy.
"What should I dooooooo?" wailed Drisella.
"Um," Anastasia looked at Peter.
Peter raised his eyebrows. "Go to Mother."
Drisella began running down a lunatic down the hallway, and jiggled the doorhandle to Lady Tremaine's room. "MothermothermothermothermotherMOTHER!" shrieked Drisella.
Lady Tremaine's annoyed voice sounded from inside. "What IS it, Drisella?"
"MOUUUUUSE!" shrieked Drisella. "Mother, p-p-please open the door!"
Lady Tremaine threw open the door, and Drisella tackled her, crawling over her, doing a desperate, shaky dance in front of the mirror, trying to dissuade the poor mouse.
Peter saw it scamper out from under her, for the door, unseen by the eyes of Drisella, Anastasia, or Lady Tremaine.
Peter grabbed the mouse. "Lucifer!" he yelled, pretending to be reprimanding the cat. The cat looked at him. He hastily waved the mouse by the tail. Lucifer sprang at Peter. Peter changed course and threw it onto his mother.
With another squeal, Lucifer jumped onto Lady Tremaine.
"M-m-mother!" cried Anastasia, thoroughly horrified.
Drisella was sobbing in a corner.
Peter dashed into his room, grabbed his knife out from under his pillow, raced back to Lady Tremaine's room to wait for the right moment….
Within seconds, he felt the moment was coming up. Before anyone could say anthing, Peter sprang forward and cut the string. The key fell to the ground, and Peter scooped it up, shoving it into his pocket. He put the knife away and grabbed Lucifer, pulling him off, with Lady Tremaine muttering curses far more vile than the words out of a sailor's mouth.
"That damn cat!" she yelled. "And that damn Cinderella! She never even checks for mice!"
Peter dumped Lucifer with his mouse prize on the stairs. "Get lost," he hissed at the cat.
Then he grabbed his own cell phone and dialed Lady Tremaine's home phone number.
It rang and rang and rang.
Lady Tremaine seemed to be trying to ignore it—until at last, luck gave out and she got up, stamping her way downstairs to answer the phone.
Peter spoke in a falsetto as he unlocked the top drawer. "Uh, hello? Is your refrigerator running?"
"What?!" Lady Tremaine sounded like she was in a crappy mood, which she was.
Peter spotted the purple-and-green case of the iPhone. He grabbed it and pocketed it, hurling the key out the window, and slamming the drawer shut.
"Hello, who is this?" Lady Tremaine was demanding.
"Sorry, wrong number," Peter snapped, and hung up.
He smiled as he left the phone by a sleeping Cindy's bedside table and climbed into his own bed downstairs—but even as he did, he thought of Jim Hawkins.
And he wasn't able to get any sleep.
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