Author's Note: Hey all, here's the next update. The student-teacher relationship is briefly implied at the end of Merida's segment, but that's about it on the warning front.
Of course, actually going to the library was a completely different case.
Elsa was going to her car when she remembered, and after a sudden jolt she'd called her mother, saying she was staying back to study. She'd hurried through the school, slowing when other people came into sight, and then appeared in the library almost with a prance, her heart whirring.
Anna was one of the couches, books laid out on the table. She saw Elsa and waved, moving her backpack from the cushion beside her. Elsa sat, still nervous.
"How are you?"
"Stumped," said Anna. "I could really use your help."
They were in the library for an hour, solving equations, walking step-by-step through historical productions. Elsa had insisted on teaching Anna easier ways of remembering math formulas, which the redhead triumphed in the back of her notebook after much toil. In return she'd depleted the front desk of its flash cards and made Elsa write important information on them.
"This looks a lot easier than reading from the book over and over again," she said, flipping a card to see the significance of an event.
"You'll learn a lot faster," said Anna. "In freshman year I took this horrible English class with the same teacher I have now. And she hasn't changed. Same attitude and everything. I still remember the first day of this year." She looked unnerved by the memory. But remembering her audience, played the part. She unfolded her arms, dropped her brow, and spoke in a hushed yet nasally voice.
"I see it's Anna Arendelle back for another year of fantastic achievement in my classroom. Oh, and her two gal pals as well. I trust in the two-year gap I've taught you all you must have learned something?"
Elsa snorted back laughter at Anna's dead-on impersonation. A few students by the bookshelves looked up annoyed, and Elsa coughed into her hand. She and Anna kept studying.
"Mrs. Wanda, right?" Elsa asked.
"Right."
"I heard she used to be a matchmaker. Then she went out of business and went to teaching high school."
"That's fake! Where did you hear that?"
"My friends," Elsa said, embarrassed.
"Whatever it was, she's pretty bad at teaching. And she's had it in for us since day one. I wouldn't have made it out of freshman English if it weren't for those flash cards. And Merida's doodles."
They laughed again on that couch, and looked at each other contently. A second later Elsa's cell phone vibrated.
"Oh jeez," she said, digging through her purse. The glowing screen showed the text was from her mother. She clicked a button to read it. "I forgot—there's a church thing tonight and I need to get ready."
"You guys go to church?" Anna sounded curious.
"Yes, every Sunday. And there's an event we said we'd attend two weeks ago. I'm sorry, Anna, I have to go. But it was fun!"
"Well…it was fun too," said Anna, only slightly put out by the sudden cutoff. "Hope you have a good time at the…thing."
Elsa smiled at her, then put the flash cards in her purse. "I'll see you later," she said more quietly, and after the briefest hesitation she left the library, almost hitting Merida DunBroch on her way out the door.
Merida exhaled through her mouth on the sidewalk, staring up at her family's classy nice home. At least, nice on the outside.
An explosion of noise greeted her at the door. Two deerhounds ran into each other on their way down the hall, toenails clacking loudly on the floor. Three red-haired blurs followed, and Merida was ready to join them. But she couldn't. Air escaped on the side of her lips this time as she straightened to face her mother.
No time was spent on civil pleasantries. "Staying back for English again!" She didn't sound completely angry; a crease of worry crossed her forehead when she continued to chastise. "That's the third time this month, Merida, and she says you keep slacking off with those two friends of yours."
"She'd say anything bad about us," Merida muttered.
Her mother stopped. "Merida, I am just abashed by your behavior. You're a senior in high school! You shouldn't have teachers nagging at you about poor and missing schoolwork."
The dogs and the three boys rushed back down the room. Merida started into the house.
"Don't you walk by me, Merida, I'm not done yet!"
Merida spun slowly on one foot, her head rolling back. Now her mother looked angry. "I have been teaching you since you were a child how to be proper, and responsible, and a well-mannered woman. And you throw it all away because you can't listen to a woman for an hour every day—"
"I throw it away because you try to control me!" said Merida. "Dresses and outings, perfect table etiquette. If you didn't micromanage everything I do then maybe I wouldn't be tossing everything into the bin!"
"I do not control you, Merida, that's ridiculous."
"Then how come you insist on getting me to do things I don't want to do, when I already tell you I don't like doing them?"
"It's a compromise, Merida, you can't always have things your way—"
"I don't want things always my way!" Merida yelled. "I want to not to have to be a copy of you!"
The house went silent, except for soft pitter-patters of the boys sneaking into their room. At first Merida's mother didn't speak, many thoughts running through her eyes.
"I'm not trying to make you a copy," she said. "I'm trying to help you be a proper—"
"What if I don't want to be proper?" interrupted Merida.
This time her mother stayed silent. Merida went to her room without picking up anything in her way, making sure to slouch before she reached the staircase.
There was always a certain amount of messiness in the home, because of everyone Mrs. DunBroch lived with, but Merida transcended the stray items and fallen clothing with a landfill of her own. The bedroom was piled in disarray, nothing having a definite place. It wasn't stained or stinky, but anything that got lost was not certain to be recovered quickly. It did her mother's nerves something terrible, but Merida knew there was a silent agreement between them that her room was her castle. A very sloppy, chaotic castle.
Merida threw her messenger bag on the desk, a plastic horse flying off onto her beanbag. The various papers on the desk crunched and slid under the weight. Merida flopped onto her bed, letting herself sink into the sheets.
In the back of her head she knew she was overreacting. Not even Rapunzel got so many calls home, despite Mrs. Wanda's unusual amount of scorn towards her. Thinking of Rapunzel at all made Merida slightly remorseful. It was a wonder that girl could survive living with her grandmother. And Anna's parents were weirdly absent. Not that Merida would mind having her mother out of her hair more often, but the times she came to Anna's house it seemed so empty, though God knew they were rolling in cash. So were the DunBrochs, dysfunctional as they appeared. Beyond the constant wrestling and shouting a guest could find expensive paintings, tastefully chosen furniture. All pointless, Merida thought with a scoff.
Her mother wouldn't even pay her off to college. Merida knew her parents' combined income was much more than that, especially if she started getting scholarships. Her father tried siding with her but Elinor stood her ground, saying they'd pay the first semester and nothing more. "It's about time you start taking care of yourself, Merida," she'd said.
And yet here she was nosing into all of Merida's business, trying to make her perfect and proper and this right little princess. Pushing her away yet reeling her back in whenever she started doing her own thing. It was lucky she never heard half the stuff Merida did outside the home, she'd have a heart attack.
On her bed now, Merida sighed. Her arms flopped out to the drape of the covers. A vista of clouds spread above her, specially painted along with the fields lining the walls.
Her hand snaked into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She thumbed through the numbers, frowning at the one that had no place there but remained a priority all the same.
It was a secret kept deliciously from her mother, but that didn't keep the chill from running up Merida's back when she put the phone under her pillow.
Anna saw Kristoff one last time before he went to the airport.
"Try not to miss me too much," she joked as she carried one of his suitcases out the door.
Kristoff threw a duffel bag on top of the zoo supplies he kept in the van. "It's gonna be real hard, Anna," he said. "I'll stay up at night wondering how I could have ever left my best friend to help kids in Africa."
Anna tossed the suitcase into an open spot. The van shook from the impact. "So that's it, right?"
"That's all of it."
They hugged in the open garage, Anna standing on her toes. When they parted Kristoff was looking down with a lopsided grin. "So, you think you can handle Merida and Rapunzel on your own with that robot?"
"I'll keep it under control. Besides, Vanessa will be there to help me."
She thought he would chuckle at that, but all of a sudden he looked solemn. A few seconds passed before he talked again.
"Anna, I really think you should watch yourself with her."
"Why?" Anna said. "You keep telling me that."
She was annoyed, and showed it. The pensiveness on Kristoff's face slackened as his lips rolled for an answer.
"I just really, really feel like she's a user."
Anna felt slapped in the face. "A user? Why would you say that? She's so nice!"
"That's it, she's unbelievably nice, but for what reason? There are little things she does"—his fingers wiggled as he said it—"little things that hint she's hiding something."
"What would she be hiding? What little hints?"
"I don't know! But…it's like she's way too interested in other peoples' business. In the bowling alley, it was really personal just up and asking Elsa's friend about who he's dating."
"So sometimes she gets a little nosey."
"And that thing she said about Elsa being on the market? Like she's something to be bought and used? That's not a view you'd take, Anna. It's…dehumanizing."
"It's slang," said Anna, but she was looking away.
Kristoff didn't say anything as her shoulders rose up and down. When it looked like she was near tears he said, "I can't stop you from doing whatever it is you're going to do. But I would be very, very careful with anything you tell her, because…" Anna waited. Kristoff slumped. "Because I care about you."
"Vanessa cares about me, too," Anna muttered.
"You don't sound like you mean it."
Anna's lower lip curled. "Don't you think you should get to the airport?" she said, not rudely.
It was a valid point. Kristoff circled his wrists in defeat and closed the hatch of the van. Anna's eyes slid over when he opened the driver seat door.
She went to him, and they hugged again. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
She thought about it, and furiously found it didn't make sense. Not that her parents asked her what was wrong, when they all sat down for dinner.