Author's Note: Hey everyone, thanks for your patience during the summer.
I'm shaky on this update's plausibility and writing. As with every chapter, the style is meant to be casual mixed with precise. But this might lean too far towards the former. I also planned to split perspectives between Merida and Anna, until I realized how much space Merida's took. So this one is solely her. And that hints...
WARNING: This chapter centers on Merida's relationship with her history teacher, though it's not suggestive until the last few paragraphs.
Merida sat on her bed the next evening, elbows on knees, looking down at the carpet. The sounds of her family downstairs seemed far away. When one of the dogs scrabbled past her closed door, she grabbed her hair and curled on her side. Tracing the history of her predicament, exactly as it happened, was infuriatingly overwhelming.
The year before, Merida had become yet another person who knocked knees in front of Elsa. She'd seen it repeatedly. Guys asking her out, girls asking her out, Merida's own friend Anna giving shy ducks of the head whenever Elsa walked by. Each time Merida would watch Anna's eyes follow Elsa down the room and think, give it up, girl. She was so untouchable, the rumors couldn't agree whether she was asexual or a prude. Looking for Mr./Miss Right. Either way hadn't mattered to Merida, because she never took an interest in girls.
Until one time Elsa crossed her path in the hallways like they did every day. On that day Merida was not struck with not apathy but a sudden revelation. She had stopped, right in the middle of the hall, and turned in wonder at the ethereal beauty now leaving her in the distance. What blessing was it that Merida could be graced with such a presence? Elsa was the prettiest girl in school and Merida had the opportunity to speak with her every day. But for some reason she didn't! And in the next second she realized she had no idea why this was so important. Her eyes flicked down to Elsa's blue skirt for the quickest second, before she looked back up in shame and fear. Elsa rounded the last row of lockers around the corner, not having noticed a thing.
The incident kept Merida silent for the rest of the school day. On her way to the bus stop, her mind overflowed. Why? How? Girls? What do I say? Do I have a chance? Why now? What if she has a boyfriend? Is there something me wrong with? Get her alone? But Anna? Anna, you poor thing! Don't have a chance. You. Elsa. Me? Girls? I play hackeysack and she sips tea? WHY?
Why, why, why, indeed. Merida had fallen head over heels in infatuation, and despite every ounce of logic she challenged it with, the traitorous beast refused to let things be. While nearing the doorway to the cafeteria the next day, she caught sight of a green flyer on the wall printed with bland bold font. It was reminding students of the upcoming dance. The dance! People asked each other to them all the time. It was the classic moment of high school opportunity, and as Merida bolted away from the doors in panic, she believed she could have been Elsa's Miss Right.
As soon as she saw Elsa she stumbled over, catching her off-guard in the hall. Despite Merida's sincerity, she knew she looked like a fool. She blurted the invitation, then shut her mouth, staring.
Elsa had leaned back a fraction of a fraction, her shoulder raised. She'd processed the request, then said, with admirable composure, "No. Sorry."
And Merida was struck down.
Mortifying as it was, the experience didn't sate Merida's curiosity. Merida drew close a black bear figurine on her bed and fiddled with it as the next memory replayed. A week later her mind and body had still been screaming about girls, so she decided to do field research on students more her speed. She knew the girls' soccer team had P.E. the same time as her dreadfully boring English class. That morning she left her house two books lighter than usual. She drummed her pencil all through the history period, failing miserably to calm her puttering feet. Anna shared her English class that year and they normally met at the stairwell. But it was surprisingly easy to give her the slip during the passing period. She'd hidden among the waves of students filling the halls, sweatshirt hood over her head. Within minutes she was on the nearly empty bleachers in the field below the school buildings, notebook in hand and feeling the slightest bit creepy when the team marched onto the field.
During the practice, she pretended to take notes so it looked like she had reason to be there. She had even hung her mother's old camera by its strap around her neck to resemble a columnist for the school paper. Merida felt stupid, but none of the other audience members questioned her.
She watched the team divide into two and begin. Amazingly, she saw it through new eyes: previously she had only considered the bursts of energy needed to keep up with the sport. Now she saw a form of elegance under the raw power, a coordination that worked not only in action but also art. She looked down and saw she'd been doodling the girls' red shorts in her notebook. She bit her lip and added lines where the body would be, forming a picture of fluidity and adrenaline.
Halfway through the practice she knew she couldn't deny it. After she disappeared behind the staircase she hunched over, more in embarrassment for being embarrassed that she was currently interested in both boys and girls. Merida had no idea how her mother would react if she ever found out. Elinor had never expressed negativity about it in front of her—indeed, the topic of girls with girls was never mentioned between them at all. Even so, Merida couldn't shake the suspicion her mother would disapprove of it just as she did of so many other things in Merida's life. For as long as she could remember, compromising was very difficult for them to manage. And they had always been over Merida's habits and hobbies, not a magical transformation of her view on love. She couldn't stand the idea of being criticized for something she couldn't control. She scratched her neck, feeling an itch.
She was so deep in her potential conflict that she hadn't watched where she was going. She walked into one of the lampposts at the end of the courtyard, stumbled to the right, and found a body standing in her path. Her gaze trailed up and she recognized those eyes—oh, why me, of all the days!—of her second period history teacher, looking back down at her with the faintest hint of a smile.
She pretended to be shocked. "Merida," she said, body jilting in a startle. Her long manicured fingers fanned over her chest. "I didn't expect to see you out here at this time."
Merida's mind had not yet unjammed. She said nothing.
"I mean," her teacher went on, her eyes rolling whimsically as she spoke, "I didn't think students would be outside at all around this time. Not unless they were practicing soccer." The eye roll ended right on Merida. Merida froze again, observing the sprigs of grass popping up between the courtyard bricks.
But you aren't on the team, are you?" the teacher asked.
Merida shook her head.
She heard a low, almost amused chuckle. She looked back up and saw the teacher with her eyes closed, laughing about some private joke.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. "You've been naughty, haven't you, Merida?" she said.
It was playful rather than accusatory, two green irises piercing right into her. Somehow Merida found this scarier than if she were definitely getting into trouble. "Yes," she said, since the teacher's tone made it clear she was waiting for affirmation. "I was not supposed to be down there."
The teacher leaned back against the lamppost, one hand clutched to her chest and the other her forehead. "Merida," she said, falsely anguished, "I knew you were one of my more difficult students, but this is more than I could imagine." Then, as if she remembered she was in public, she pushed off the pole and stood straight again. "This generation is like a bunch of princesses, sometimes," she said fluidly with a shake of her head. Merida looked down, but still felt her gaze. "Running about, doing as you please. It's not fun when the adults curb your sense of freedom, is it?"
"No, ma'am," said Merida.
To her surprise, her teacher shrugged. "Well, even if you are headstrong, it's not like you've skipped a day of my class." She bent her knees, waving one finger like a wand and halting it toward Merida's nose. "So, this time, I won't poison your day by turning you in. Whose class did you miss, anyway?"
"Mrs. Wanda's," Merida replied, hoping she hadn't just severed the lenient humiliation.
"Mrs. Wanda," the teacher repeated, still with humor rather than bitterness. "Even the staff thinks she's insufferable."
Her heels clacked as she came closer. All of a sudden, Merida noticed how slender her neck looked in front of her dark purple blazer. "I only stepped out to get something from the car," she said, as the bell signaling the end of third period went off. The bronze gong sounded a mile away behind the school's brick walls. "And now my students will run free without homework," the teacher continued, cheeks sucking in as she piped out the last few words. "How about this," she told Merida, as the sound of two thousand traveling students filled the building, "I could use help getting through my students' homework. Maybe you'd take a lunch in my classroom for that? It would be a win-win; you pay off punishment and I get more done. Don't worry, I'll buy," she said, as the soccer team came marching up the stairs.
Merida shrugged, tried to process. "Sure," she said, and just like that, the teacher's peer turned into a smile.
It wasn't bad, the punishment. Merida spent the period at her desk, eating lunch and correcting papers as the teacher worked at her table. Occasionally she left to make sure Merida was getting the answers right. In these times Merida would become conscious of the way the teacher stood behind her, how those slender arms glided over hers as she traced Merida's corrections with her finger. The third time Merida turned her head to follow her teacher's procession back to her workspace. She couldn't help but notice how much the tails of her blazer hung past her waist. It reminded her of royalty.
Near the end of the lunch period, Merida had stood up to throw away her plate. "Thank you so much for this, Merida," the teacher said, looking over from her computer. She shrugged. "It's not the most orthodox way of finishing up work, but what's a little rebellion now and then?"
Merida had been putting the strap of her messenger bag around her shoulder, but stopped. A second later, she turned around. "Do you ever need help with this again?" she asked, facing the teacher. "I mean, bad little me, skipping class to watch soccer practice. Who says I might not try it again? Besides, I thought it was kind of fun."
And itwas, that sliver of delicious terror she got knowing she'd done something inappropriate. The teacher had looked at her with genuine surprise, her eyebrows lifting airily. A second later the smile came back, longer than in the courtyard, one that filled Merida with devious excitement and a horrible sense of danger. The teacher asked, "Are you playing with me, Merida?" but she gave Merida her phone number nonetheless.
Soon enough they were seeing more of each other, and Merida found excuses to sneak away after school hours. They had some flings during the summer, too. She felt top of the world at first, despite the uneasiness that lingered—a teacher seeing a student never sounded flattering for a reason. Still, it was a powerful way of rebellion. If only the others knew what she was doing! But the idea of Anna and Rapunzel knowing made Merida shrink back like a slug on salt. They'd be horrified! And now, sitting on her bed after two semesters of meeting with her teacher, she found herself wanting to tell them. "I thought it was cool, I was spiting my mother behind my back, but it's getting too much, now!"
Maybe her mother insisted she start being more responsible for a reason. Finding a way to pay for college sounded like a breeze compared to this. The taboo loomed over her every minute. She remembered the last time she went to her teacher's house, the clumsy movements as their bodies mashed into each other on the couch, and how underneath the alarm bells blaring in her mind, she knew the woman breathing on top of her had her cornered by guilt. Tell and the teacher will lose her job, for something Merida chose. Tell and everyone will know what Merida did. And…she was of age, too.
Merida reached for the tips of her duvet and flung them over her head, squeezing the stuffed bear to her chest. How much trouble would she be in if it wasn't statutory? She was sure she'd still be held just as accountable as her partner in crime. Why didn't it hit her sooner? And to think, as Merida would sit up on her teacher's couch every time like a proper lady afterward, staring into one of the many mirrors on the walls, that it was all for her teacher to drift her fingers lazily through Merida's hair and tell her their times alone made her feel younger and fairer.
A win-win. Merida used to think so. Now she knew this wasn't victory over her mother at all, and that the very woman she spited was now who she wanted most. And that woman was busy milling about the kitchen downstairs, chopping up onions and shaking salt onto the meat sizzling in the frying pan. Elinor was a million miles away on a completely different planet, and before Merida broke into silent tears under her sheets, she came to accept the evil Queen showed her she wasn't as independent as she once thought.