Ariel's voice was slightly nervous, a half-octave higher than normal. She was going on about the list of things they still hadn't reviewed: a new roof for a leaky schoolhouse, a boulder blocking a mountain bypass, and a letter from the King and Queen of Corona, expressing their surprise, and thankfulness, that both their daughters were finally home. He nodded along to what she was saying, pretending to listen, but his gaze was focused on Harmony.

She'd rested her chin in her arms, eyes squinting in the sunlight, leaning out an open carriage window. Her short red hair rustled in the occasional breeze, though she had pushed it back behind her ears. He wondered what she thought about as the kingdom passed by them in a blur.

Her head lifted from her arms, and in a quick motion, her knees were tucked under her. Her brows furrowed, eyes intent on something in the distance. Her fingers curled around the windowsill, and her body leaned further out.

Eric felt his nerves spike. One bump in the road and she'd... "Harmony, get back inside before you fall out."

She craned her neck slightly, behind her, before leaning back out the window again. "No, I won't."

"You're going to fall out the window," Eric reiterated his warning, seeing her now push herself even more out.

"I'm not gonna fall," she responded, stubbornly, ignoring his plea. "I do this all the time, relax."

"Harmony, don't argue," Ariel answered now, sighing. Her eyes flicked between her husband and daughter, before she said, "Listen to your father."

There was a moment of contemplation, as though the teenager was weighing her options. Evidently she believed it was worth her while to listen, because she slinked back into the moving carriage. Her cheeks were bright red from the cold air that had whipped at her face. Her features were sullen and annoyed.

"No one cares when I do that back home," she said, ice blue eyes piercing and aggravated. They relented, however, when she stated, by way of explanation, "There's barns over there."

"This part of the kingdom is mostly farmland," Ariel responded, eyeing the teen, puzzled. "We did tell you we were going to the countryside today."

"No, you didn't," Marcie said, stretching her legs out onto the seat. She noticed Ariel's dress sleeves ended at her elbows; her wrist was no longer wrapped. It had been over a week since she'd convinced the doctor to make Ariel wear the bandage longer. "You said you were going on a trip and I should come too, to get out. I thought we'd be going to the woods, the one's I landed in, when I showed up here."

"Oh," was all Ariel could manage, her voice going quiet. Restlessly, she pulled at her wrist, but the bandage was no longer there for her to tug on.

"I guess I'm not going back home today?" Marcie wondered, hopeful for a moment for a different answer, looking over at both adults. Both grimaced, but it was Eric who shook his head. The girl's shoulders sagged, and disappointment filled her eyes. "I don't wanna be ungrateful, and I know you guys are working on it, but it's been a whole month. Everyone's gonna think I ran away, but I'd never do that."

Ariel felt the familiar pit in her stomach, and ignored it. "If you stay patient—"

"I've been staying patient," Marcie responded, sighing, pleading now. "Can't I help, like at all? I just hang around all day anyway. I could carry books, or look up keywords, or—"

"That's not necessary," Eric cut her off now, his voice taking on a slight edge. Not angry, but it was as though he was worried. "We swore we'd get you back, didn't we? Crossed our hearts and hoped to die? You need to trust us."

"I do trust you," Marcie acknowledged, pushing her glasses up her nose. She looked away, out the window, her brows drawing close together. She struggled to say more, finally settling on, "'S just that it's Adam's senior year and I wanted to see him crush Matt on the football field."

Ariel frowned, trying to recall, asking slowly, "Matt is your…best friend, isn't he?"

"Yup."

"And Adam is your brother?"

"Uh-huh," Marcie confirmed, blinking, looking back over.

Ariel seemed unsure how to phrase her next statement, carefully asking, "You want to see your brother…crush, your best friend?"

"Well," Marcie answered, pointedly, "That's the point of football, isn't it?"

"What's football?" Eric wondered, the word unfamiliar to him.

Marcie sat up slightly, surprised, looking at him oddly. "Football? You don't know what football is?"

"Can't say I do," Eric answered evenly, keeping close eye on the teen's reaction. "Is it a game you play, like tag or hide-and-go-seek?"

"It's a sport," Marcie corrected, genuinely horrified that he didn't know what she was referring to. "And I don't play games. I'm not a little kid."

"Being a teenager doesn't mean you have to be…" Ariel trailed off, biting her lip. She had played childhood games well into her teens, for no other reason than it had been enjoyable. "Well, you're never too old to have fun."

"I have fun," Marcie defended, stubbornly. Then, her shoulders loosened, and she sunk slightly in her seat. It felt like all she ever did was explain herself, or get into an argument. "Where're we going anyway?"

"We're meeting with some farmers from a local village," Eric explained, watching as Marcie eyes lit up with interest. "They have some concerns about next year's harvest."

"What's wrong with it?" Marcie wondered, brows furrowing together.

"That's what we're going to find out," Ariel answered. She smoothed out her dress absently. "Since you like spending time in the barn, we thought you might want to see some farmland in the kingdom."

"I only go up to the hayloft 'cause there's nothing else to do," Marcie returned, a slight whine to her tone. Luckily, Coral gave her extra homework to occupy her time, but even then, it wasn't enough to fill her day.

"If you're bored, it's through your own choices," Ariel responded, firmly, not letting the girl get away with a pity party. "You could be in lessons with Melody right now."

"I'd rather lick a toad," Marcie responded, pulling a sour face.

Eric choked back a laugh. Ariel elbowed him in the ribs, and gave him a very unamused look. "Don't say that. That's not appropriate."

Marcie ran her fingers through her red hair, tugging at the short strands as she went. Maybe it was the frown on the girl's features, but Ariel felt her resolve wane. After all, she was a child.

"You could practice the piano, if you wanted, during the day," Ariel ventured, causing the teen the perk up, and then regard her guardedly.

"Last time I played it, I interrupted you guys," Marcie responded, carefully, as though Ariel had forgotten and would get upset. She held up her hand as though it was evidence, showing off the nearly healed scrape. "Then I broke a vase."

Eric snorted. "Best excuse I've ever come up with to avoid answering a letter."

"You played wonderfully," Ariel complimented, ignoring her husband's comment, and correcting the girl's version of events. "You have an amazing talent."

"No one's ever called it a talent," Marcie mumbled, her cheeks going as red as her hair in embarrassment at the term. "It's always just...messing around."

Ariel tried not to let her face react at the girl's words. Alright, so she didn't think she had a talent, but that wasn't telling. After all, the girl had taught herself to play. She didn't really understand that she was quite good.

On that note, she ventured a question. "Have…you've called him the "Old Man" before, have you told him you're a musician?"

"No, way. He'd tell me it's stupid." The teen waited a moment, shrugging back her shoulders, nonchalantly adding, "He'd be right, too. Even Adam says it's dumb. Music's a dead-end road; for every rock-star, there's ten thousand wannabes. Better to focus on my future."

"And what does this future entail?" Eric asked, curiously, still grinning slightly from the girl's earlier retort.

"Well," Marcie started, pushing her glasses up her nose, "I mean, first, Adam says I've gotta graduate from high school on time. Then I'll go to college, University of Nebraska, I get a degree in something like agriculture, so I can help Matt with the farm back in Amherst. And then I'll buy the old Holler barn, the one on the edge of town that's falling apart, and I'll turn it into a house and it'll be just big enough for me, and maybe a dog."

There was a silent pause in the carriage. Ariel and Eric seemed to not know what to say. They hadn't been prepared for the girl to clearly state her entire life, down to where she'd live.

At length, Ariel finally answered, "You know, the kingdom has a wonderful University as well."

Marcie shrugged. "Lots of places got good schools. But I've been a Husker fan since I could crawl. Adam would never speak to me if I went anywhere else. Caity and him put their applications in as soon as they could, before school even started this year."

"He and Caity," Eric corrected, absently.

"He and Caity—that don't sound right."

"That doesn't sound right," Eric corrected again.

Marcie grinned. "I know, I told you it didn't sound right."

"No, I meant—" He stopped himself suddenly, seeing the girl before him looking rather pleased with herself. He smiled back. "Ah, got it. Good one."

"Matt says sometimes it's like I'm so smart I can't figure out simple stuff," Marcie intoned, smirking still at her joke. "He says it's 'cause I can figure out how to make an old tractor start up, but I don't get a lot of good grades in school."

"Everyone is different in how they learn," Eric responded. He'd been an awful student growing up, mostly from a lack of trying, but he'd slipped into sailing life with an ease that had baffled Captain Sayers.

"One of my sisters always struggled in school. But she was the lead in every school play; she had an amazing ability to memorize anything." Ariel offered, trying to offer an example to Eric's words.

Marcie's smirk dipped. She stared out the window now, watching as the terrain shifted from farmland to the cobblestone roads of a village. She twisted the charm still hanging on a string on her wrist. "It's not that I can't learn. 'S just that I don't have time."

"What do you mean?" Eric asked, not comprehending what she was alluding to.

"It's like…you know, between babysitting jobs and in fall I'll clean the neighbors' gutters, winter I shovel snow, and spring is planting and weeding season, and then Mrs. Beller pays me extra if I climb her roof and clean her upstairs windows. So not always a whole lotta time to study." Marcie shrugged, attempting to make it seem like she didn't care.

But she did care. She loved her high school. High school was an escape, a place where she could warm up if the heat had been turned off that winter, or a lukewarm meal if things had been tough at home. She hated the feeling of falling behind, and Adam always told her school came first, but it was hard not to take on extra work when bills started coming in with aggressive red stamps that said "past due".

"Sounds like you're spreading yourself too thin trying to keep up with that many odd jobs," Eric commented, briefly wondering how the girl found any time in the day.

Hadn't she also mentioned she helped her friend on his farm? That, on top of all these odd jobs, did she ever have time to go home? It seemed like every season there was work she was getting done, and while he understood she had a hardworking ethic, he wondered if the girl was struggling in school, why was no one intervening?

"But if I don't, then—"

The coach rolled to a stop. Someone, the driver, knocked on the roof.

"Looks like we're here, Ariel said, peering through the window. She turned back to look at her daughter, sympathetic. "Let's finish talking on the ride back home, alright sweetie?"

"Yeah, sure," the words were hollow. She'd gotten too comfortable and had almost blurted out a fact that no grownup in her life knew. Kids understood; grownups just wanted to constantly find solutions to problems.

The door to the carriage opened. Eric was the first out, extending a hand back to his wife, who graciously took it as she went down the step. He extended his hand again to Marcie, but she was already halfway out, jumping onto the solid ground without his help. They'd stopped in front of a large, two-story square building, with unpainted wooden shingles, windows symmetrically apart, and a gray roof that peaked at the top.

"Welcome to the Eastern Villages, your majesties," a man greeted them, bowing low. When he came back up, he seemed to notice Marcie, adding in a bewildered tone, "And…Princess?"

Marcie made a face, but said nothing. She couldn't decide what she disliked more, being called Harmony, being called Princess, or being called Your Highness. Matt would have rightly laughed at any of the above; Emma would have asked if she got to wear a tiara, and if so, when she could borrow it.

"We're glad to have come," Eric said, his voice sounding different. Marcie regarded him; the way he held himself, the way he sounded, he was far more formal than she'd ever seen him. More official, someone who wielded real power; like a school principal.

"My name is Dandler Greiner, I'm one of the elders of this collection of villages," the man stated, his eyes shifting between Eric, Ariel, and Marcie. They settled on Marcie for far longer than anyone else, as though expecting her to do something. "Everyone else is gathered in the meeting hall."

"Wonderful, can't wait to meet everyone," Ariel answered, brightly, truly looking forward to meeting new people.

"We, er, weren't expecting the new…old…Princess Harmony to join you, your majesties," the older man explained, awkwardly. Ariel and Eric exchanged a look; Marcie tensed. She understood his tone. "The meeting with village elders and farmers might be long."

"She's not going to be any trouble, if that's what you think, sir," Ariel responded, curiously tilting her head at the odd statement.

"Oh, no, your majesties," the man answered, too quickly. He took in a deep breath, tearing his eyes from the redheaded girl, to the monarchs. "But, uh, the Princess might be better suited elsewhere. These village elders and farmers have traveled from all over the eastern side of the kingdom to be here."

"And we travelled as well," Eric now said, puzzled as much as Ariel. Hadn't they been called out here to discuss the increasingly poor soil quality?

Marcie wrapped her arms around herself. They'd offered her a cloak, but she'd refused. She wanted her pink jacket back, wanted to be able to shove her hands in the pockets when she felt uncomfortable. But she hadn't seen her jacket since she'd fallen into the water, and her jeans, well, she hadn't seen those in weeks.

"Well, yes, of course, and it's appreciated, your majesties," the man stumbled over his words, trying to thread the needle carefully here. "I only mentioned anything because the Princess might get bored listening about the farmlands. Children tend to get restless after a while."

He wanted her scarce because he thought she'd become a whiny distraction, from the way Marcie understood. She was new and he wasn't sure if she would behave. Maybe he'd read the same newspaper Melody had, about climbing up to the treehouse in the boat, and he thought she was a menace. Either way, this was a serious meeting she wasn't welcome in.

"I can scram," Marcie intoned, shrugging. It shouldn't have bothered her, but it did. She wasn't used to people thinking she was a troublemaker. She looked at the Ariel and Eric, briefly, before looking back at her shoes and digging her sneaker into the ground. "I'll find something to do 'round here."

"The schoolhouse, is just up that way, your highness," the man, Dandler, said, looking relieved, and pointing eagerly in the opposite direction. "Maybe you'll find some village children to play with."

Marcie looked up at him, sharply, narrowing her eyes slightly. Why was everyone so intent on treating her like if she was six? She could drive the tractor on Matt's farm since she was five, and been responsible for the household for as long as she could remember. She didn't play.

"It is a nice day out," Ariel acquiesced, not noticing the girl's reaction to the man's words. "Eric? What do you think?"

"It's a nice day," he agreed, although hesitant to let the girl out of their sight for too long. Last he'd done that at the docks, he'd looked up to find her halfway to the crow's nest. Still, a boring meeting probably wasn't where the teen would want to find herself. "You'll stay in the guards' line of sight, the whole time? You won't wander off?"

Marcie looked over at the two men who'd accompanied them, still on their horses, quite serious. She felt like one of the kids she babysat. "Yeah, sure."

"Alright, then," he replied, making up his mind. "You can stay out."

"Who knows, you could join in a game and have fun," Ariel said enthusiastically, reaching out to squeeze the girl's shoulder with a motherly sort of touch. Marcie dodged her hand neatly. Ariel's face fell.

Eric noticed the exchange, and intertwined his hand with hers. "Dandler, what's going on with the soil?"

"We haven't worked that one out yet, your majesty, but the farmers and other village elders have ideas…" the man said, motioning for the monarchs to follow him into the meeting house.

Both of them gave one last lingering look back at Marcie, who stood there, arms wrapped around herself, but she forced a half-smile to let them know she was alright. They both smiled winningly back at her. They hadn't noticed the water clouding her eyes; the glasses, probably, or maybe a trick of the sun. They both went into the building, the door closing loudly behind them.

Marcie's arms dropped. She rubbed at her eyes. So what if no one wanted her around? That wasn't new. At least they'd been nice enough to assign her babysitters, she reminded herself, that showed they cared, right?


"You stupid—"

Marcie tried to bite down on her lip. But without her two front teeth, there was nothing to grasp on.

"Clumsy—"

She swallowed hard. No use crying out. It would only make her old man angrier.

"No good—"

She tried to think of something else, anything else. Spelling words—what was on the list for this week? Rainbow. R-A-I-

"Worthless—"

She ground her teeth together. N-B-O-

"Just like your bottom feeder mother!"

"She wasn't stupid!" Marcie found herself gasping out the words, unable to hold herself back. "She loved me!"

"She's a redheaded harpy, and about as useless as you!"

Marcie felt pain explode in her ribcage. Still, even though it hurt worse than she could describe, she looked up blearily at him for the first time, confusion marking her tone. "I thought Emily had brown hair?"


Marcie looked back at the guards, who returned her stare neutrally. She sighed. They weren't going to be much help. She should've brought homework, at least she could have worked on it in the carriage while waiting.

With nothing left to do, she decided to walk towards the school. It was a straight line on the road, across the cobblestones. The village was quiet; it seemed like most people were probably at that meeting.

She took her time on the walk, wondering, briefly, what would happen if she just ran away. Would they chase after her? Probably. She could run fast, but she wasn't faster than a horse.

She came up to what she assumed was the school. It looked like the building up the road, only a bit smaller, and a bell out front. Nowhere near the size of her school, or even the ballroom in the castle. She stood there, unsure of what to do. Did she go in? Tell them she'd been told to come here, to play with someone?

It sounded so pathetic, even inside her mind, that she winced.

All of a sudden, there sounded like a thundering herd of cattle inside, and the door burst open. Children of all ages streamed out, excitedly brushing past her, giving the girl little thought. A boy whooped as they ran past, followed by a smaller crowd of girls and boys alike.

"Whoa!" Someone bumped her so hard she fell, spreading out her palms to catch her fall. Her knee seemed to take on most of the weight, and she looked up, grimacing.

"Sorry!" A girl around her age said, lowering a hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Marcie ignored the hand, climbing back up to her feet. She looked down at herself; the dress had been ripped. "What's up with everyone? You guys tore out of there like a bat outta hell."

"Richard stole Bethany's lunch pail today," the girl explained, scrutinizing Marcie for a moment, before asking, "Are you from one of the other eastern villages? Are your parents meeting with the King and Queen today too?"

"I got told to get lost by that Dandler guy," Marcie avoided the question, answering without really giving an answer.

The girl before her smiled ruefully. She had brown hair that was tucked back into a high ponytail. "That's Mr. Greiner, he doesn't care for any of us that much. Mama says he's been like that since she was a girl."

"Yeah, it shows," Marcie answered, still upset he'd referred to her as a child. She stuck out her hand to the girl. "I'm Marcie."

The girl took the hand, shaking it with her own. Her ponytail swayed as she did so, her brown eyes, set in her round face, kind. "I'm Anita."

"Anything to do 'round here? The place seems kind of…dead." Marcie said, looking around the nearly empty village.

Anita nodded, sadly. "All the adults are at the meetinghouse, with the King and Queen. Teacher let us out early so we can wait around, because if we're lucky, maybe we'll get to see them."

"Why's this meeting so important?" Marcie wondered. "No one tells me anything."

"It's the soil," Anita explained, pointing, in the distance, to a large silo at the edge of the village. "Harvest was okay this year, but it was less than last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. They're worried something bad is happening."

"Bugs?" Marcie wondered. She knew how finicky soil could be. Anita shook her head. "Too wet?"

"No, the weather has stayed the same," the girl explained, her voice growing determined. "But the King and Queen will figure out what to do before it gets bad, that's what Papa said."

"What'd you guys plant?"

"Wheat," Anita answered, studying Marcie strangely. "Isn't that what everyone grows?"

"There's gotta be other stuff too," Marcie replied, ignoring the question. "What other stuff do you grow out here?"

"We only grow wheat out here, it fetches the best price at market," Anita answered, before sighing, tucking back a loose brown lock of hair. "It did, at least."

"So you only grow one kind of crop, every season, over and over?" Marcie asked, her brows stitching together as Anita nodded.

"What village are you from, again?" Anita questioned, slowly, as though her suspicions were starting to settle in.

"Um—"

"Richard! Give it back!" A sharp cry interrupted the two girls. Both turned to the sound, to find that the crowd of children who'd run out of the schoolhouse were now surrounding the meetinghouse, just up the road.

"You're going to have to take it from me!" Came the jeering response, through shouts of children and teens of various ages.

Marcie jabbed a thumb in their direction. "Is that normal?"

Anita grimaced, tearing her gaze from the small crowd, and back to Marcie. "Every week, just about. Richard is Mr. Greiner's grandson."

"And no one has ever told that kid to quit it?"

"No one can," Anita explained, troubled. "The adults won't reprimand him because he'll just run back to his grandfather, and no one wants to cross Mr. Greiner."

"Sounds like a real jackass," Marcie intoned, making Anita giggle at the idea of describing the boy as a farm animal. "Well, if the adults won't stop him, why doesn't a kid?"

Anita blinked. "Because…he's Richard. His family has been here since the village was founded. They're practically royalty."

"Forget that," Marcie said, watching as the boy kept swinging the lunch pail round and round. She shook her head. "Shouldn't matter where your family is from, nothing gives you the right to be a bully."

"Bethany, I'm going to throw it!"

"Please don't!" Another sharp cry, this time pleading. "Richard, stop! That's my only lunch pail!"

"One…two…!"

"Hey!" Marcie cupped her hands together, calling out from where she stood, just down the road with Anita. "Hey, jerk-wad!"

"Marcie?" Anita asked, wildly concerned. "What are you doing?"

"Who are you calling a jerk-wad?" A voice called back, angry.

"If you guys aren't gonna tell him to knock it off, I will," the redhead said simply, as though it was obvious.

"But he'll tell Mr. Greiner! And you'll get in trouble!" Anita pleaded, trying to make the girl see sense.

"I'm calling you a jerk-wad, give her back her lunch pail!" Marcie called again, walking towards the crowd. She looked at Anita, briefly, as the girl stepped quickly beside her, explaining, "He won't tattle. They never do."

"You can't tell me what to do!" The boy's voice responded, the same sort of mocking tone he'd used before to taunt the younger girl.

"Who's 'they'?" Anita questioned, struggling to comprehend where the redhead was coming from.

"Bullies," Marcie clarified, shrugging. "They never run and tattle. It'd be the end of their terrorizing. Trust me, I've been on the receiving end of enough of 'em."

Her pace had the girls coming up on the crowd quickly, which parted slightly in reverence and horror. There, in the middle, stood a boy around twelve, with a pudgy nose and a younger girl, maybe seven or eight, with long blonde pigtails. She looked close to tears; he looked downright suspicious as he stared Marcie down, twirling the lunch pail in his hand held high.

"I think she," Marcie nodded in the direction of the girl with pigtails, Bethany, Anita had called her, "asked you to give her back her lunch pail. I'm telling you to give it back."

"You're telling me?" The boy asked, incredulously, before laughing. "You're not in charge of me. Who are you, anyway?"

"Her name is Marcie!" Anita explained, quickly, trying to dispel the tension. "She's from one of the other villages!"

There was a murmur from the crowd of children at that. A stranger amongst their own. Someone who wasn't afraid to go up against Richard.

"He took my lunch pail!" The girl in pigtails cried out, pointing at Richard desperately. "He says he's going to throw it up on the roof! Then I'll never get it back!"

"He won't throw it," Marcie answered, observing Richard thoughtfully.

He swung the lunch pail dramatically, causing Bethany to whimper, but stopped short of throwing it. "I'll throw it when I feel like it, you'll see."

"Alright, tough guy, cool it," Marcie snorted, causing gasps around her. She crossed her arms over her chest, raising her red eyebrows at him. "You're just another run-of-the-mill, carbon copy bully. Nothing special, seen it a million times before."

"Oh, yeah?" The boy responded, straightening up, puffing out his chest. "Well, what makes you so special?"

"Nothing," Marcie said, seriously, blue eyes sincere. She stole a glimpse at the guards, nearby, who seemed busy with two young women who were chatting them up. They were hanging on their every word and had no idea of the standoff that was occurring, right under their noses. Her arms dropped. "I'm not special."

"Then what do you care?"

"She told you to let go, and you're not." Marcie paused for a moment, weighing her words. "Someone's gotta tell you that's a jerk move. If everyone else is afraid to, then I'll do it. I'm not scared of you; you're like, twelve."

"Well—You're—" The boy, Richard, scrunched his face, searching for something to spit back, but had no return. It was hard to fight against someone who didn't seem shaken or intimidated by him.

He growled, and in an instant, Marcie saw his plan written across his face. She lunged for the lunch pail in his hand, as he swung it upwards and let it fly out of his hand. It clipped her ear in the process, and the shock of it caused the girl to close her eyes and clutch at her right ear with her right hand. Her left hand shot out on instinct to protect her face, but in the process, she felt it connect with something…fleshy?

There was a startled cry. Marcie's eyes popped open, finding the boy, Richard, had stumbled back a few steps, almost dazed. His mouth was bloody. It looked almost like…his lip had been hit?

She looked down at her hand, wildly. Usually she was the one being knocked down by bullies, and though she fought her way back, they always had the upper hand. Adam always said she could only hit back when they hit her first. She realized she hadn't meant to hit him, and it had been an instinct to protect herself, but for the first time, she felt like she hadn't had to wait until she sported a black eye to protect herself.

She felt…powerful.

"She hit Richard!" Someone declared, bringing Marcie out of her startled thoughts.

"She beat him up!"

"Richard got beat up—by a girl!"

"Look! He's bleeding!"

The crowd of kids went from incredulous to breathless with excitement. There was a palpable relief in their words, as though they couldn't believe their bully had been taken down by this stranger to their village.

"He's starting to cry!"

The excitement turned into peals of laughter. The boy's eyes were starting to well with tears. His bottom lip, which was starting to swell, trembled, although that only made the blood pool further.

"I'm—I'm going to tell my grandfather!" He said, although his face flushed as the peals of laughter only increased. He had lost his credibility, and he exuded no terror anymore. "I'm going to tell!"

"Go ahead and tell," Anita said, feeling courageous now. She was amazed at what her new friend, Marcie, had been able to accomplish. Suddenly, she had realized that if this girl could be brave and stand up to their bully, why couldn't she? "You're just a…a jackass!"

"Yeah, and a bully!"

"And a jerk-wad!"

That last one came from Bethany. Marcie looked all around her, at all the children. Had she done this? Had she inspired them? Matt said she couldn't lead a horse to water, and yet, here these kids were, taking her words and using them to defend themselves.

"I'm telling!" Richard cried out, as the tears spilled from his eyes. He pushed through the crowd of kids, running away, nearly tripping over himself as he ran past the meeting house, out towards the farms that lay past the sleepy village.

"That was incredible," Anita said, turning to Marcie now, her eyes shining. "How did you learn to do that?"

"I didn't do nothing," Marcie replied, rubbing at her sore ear. "I only talked to him."

"He still threw my lunch pail up on the roof," the girl in pigtails complained, worriedly, her eyes flashing up high. "Now I'll have to wait until a storm washes it down."

Marcie's eyes followed the sightline, her stomach churning when she saw that indeed, what she assumed was the lunch pail had landed on the roof. She winced, and tore her eyes away.

"Can't someone climb up and grab it?" She wondered, leaving her sore ear alone. It throbbed, but clutching it wasn't solving anything.

"No one can reach up there, not without a ladder," someone else piped up from the group.

"And no grownup is going to let a bunch of us borrow a ladder!" Another voice answered from the crowd, giving way to sighs and words of agreement.

Marcie grimaced. She already knew this was a bad idea. But what could she do? She'd said he wouldn't throw it and he did. It was her fault for goading him.

"Okay," she started, biting her lip. "If someone gives me a boost, I can probably pull myself up on the roof. Then I could grab the lunch pail and climb back down."

"There's no way you can climb up!" The younger girl, Bethany, exclaimed.

"It's too high!" Another person said, and there were sounds of agreement around the statement.

Marcie eyed the roof. It was true, at two stories up, it was far taller than anyone could reach, even with a boost. But she'd climbed up the old barn more times than she could count, scrambling up as fast as she could to beat Matt up there. She was confident she'd make it up in no time.

"Look, unless someone else wants to climb up," she paused, waiting for someone else to volunteer, but of course, no one did. "I'm the best option. I just need a boost. Who wants to give me one?"

"I will," Anita offered, interlocking her fingers and motioning for Marcie to place her foot in her hands. "Are you sure you'll be careful?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Marcie said, stepping into Anita's hands, and using the boost to catch the bottom of the window frame.

She pulled herself up from there, managing to climb onto the windowsill, avoiding the open window, and from there, to the top of the frame. It took less than a minute before she had grasped the roof and pulled herself up onto it. Carefully, she stood up, traversing to the pitch and grabbing the lunch pail. In doing so, her gaze fell to the horizon.

The air left her lungs.

She could see for what felt like miles, all the farmland around this tiny village. Barns, cattle roaming, and harvested fields as far as the eye could see. If she squinted hard, she could almost see the shape of Matt's old barn, it's paint long faded off, and the new barn just up the way, closer to the house, it's modern tin roof shining against the sun.

Then she blinked, and it was gone. Her heart dropped to her stomach; for just a second there, it felt like she was back home.

"But this isn't Amherst," she muttered, the lump in her throat growing.

No, it wasn't Amherst, that much was certain. The land had been clear cut from what she could tell up here, not a blade of grass in sight, no trees, nothing but farmland.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, were stories she'd heard growing up, about dust storms so powerful you couldn't see for days, and farms left to rot under the hot sun as families ran. Hadn't those stories always cautioned that you never cut down the tall prairie grass?

"Did you find it?" A voice from below called. "Did you find my lunch pail?"

"Yeah," Marcie hollered back, her gaze breaking on the horizon. "Coming down now!"

The redhead pushed her glasses back up her nose, carefully coming down from the pitch of the roof the same way she'd climbed up. Slowly, she lowered her feet onto top of the window frame, and then dropping further down, tried to let her feet rest on the windowsill. But as she did so, her foot slipped, causing her to lose her balance above.

A cry got stuck in her throat as she began to fall, but her hand managed to grab the windowsill on the way down. She clutched onto it, with one hand, for what felt like dear life. She heard cries and gasps below, but focused on what to do next.

She looked down, briefly; too far up to jump. She'd have to pull herself up. She twisted her body, letting the lunch pail slip down her arm, her second-hand grabbing onto the windowsill, and with all her might, hauled her body upwards so that her arms rested on the ledge.

And suddenly found herself staring into an identical pair of startled blue eyes.

"Harmony?" Eric found himself incredulously asking, staring at the teen. He'd glanced out of the open window for just a moment at hearing something, only to see his daughter outside of it.

The girl grimaced. "Um…hi?"

"What are you…how are you…" Eric found himself at a loss for words, unable to fathom how the teenager was outside the window.

"Harmony?" Ariel was now at height level the window, having heard her husband and followed his line of sight. She too found herself staring at her daughter. "What are you doing?"

"I had to climb to the roof," Marcie explained, wincing as the weight of the lunch pail pulled at her shoulder. "When I was coming down, my foot slipped."

"Get in here before you fall and break something!" Ariel demanded, her own blue eyes wild with worry.

"Gimme a minute," Marcie said, wary of their reactions, and finding it difficult to pull herself up any further. "Still figurin' this out."

"You can't pull yourself up?" Ariel questioned, coming the realization that the girl wasn't coming in because she couldn't. Despite the seriousness of the situation, she found herself fighting back a smile. "You're stuck."

Marcie frowned. Her arms were getting sore. "I'm not stuck."

"Alright then," Eric acknowledged, now leaning against the window, close enough to the girl, but giving her enough room. A mischievous grin had made its way onto his features. "Go ahead. Pull yourself in,"

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," Marcie acknowledged, keeping calm, despite her fingers slowly prying off, one by one. "I just have to...kick my feet out…then I can…jump!"

"Whoa!"

"Gotcha!"

Marcie had miscalculated, and indeed would have plunged straight down, probably to a broken limb, if not for Eric's fast reflexes grabbing her arm. His strong grip pulled her in instead of her falling back. She scrambled to a sitting position, and upon realizing that there was a stage not too far below her feet, she jumped down.

"How was kicking your feet out supposed to help you jump up?" Eric asked, studying the girl, unable to suppress that grin from widening across his face.

Marcie contemplated his question, before twisting her lips in thought. "Thought it'd gimme enough traction to swing up. Forgot about gravity."

Despite it all, Ariel found it as hard as her husband to be too upset. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Marcie answered easily, swinging the lunch pail in her hand. "Just had to climb up to grab this, no big deal."

"Why were hanging off the windowsill?" Eric wondered, searching the teen's face for reasonable explanation. This was the second time he'd looked and found her feet not on the ground in the last few weeks. Why did it seem like every time he gave her a little freedom she climbed up something? "If you had slipped, that's a broken arm, at best."

"Your father's right, you could have been hurt," Ariel chimed in, her blue eyes tinged with amusement, but firm with concern. "And you've ripped Melody's dress."

"I had to get this, no one else was gonna do it," Marcie explained, showcasing the lunch pail to Ariel as though her explanation made all the sense the world. "I can fix the rip too; I'm not great at sewing, but I can manage."

Eric's brows knit together in confusion. Why was she carrying what looked like a small bucket? "Who's is that?"

"My lunch pail!" A voice cried out as the door to the meetinghouse slammed open, a crowd of children streaming in. A girl with blonde pigtails ran towards Marcie, up the stage, throwing her arms around her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"No problem," Marcie replied, gingerly removing the girl's arms from around her. She shoved the lunch pail at the girl. "Here, take it, don't mention it."

"How did a lunch pail get onto the roof of this meetinghouse?" Eric asked, looking to his daughter for further explanation. "And didn't you say you would stay in the guards line of sight the entire time?"

"I did stay in their sight, not my fault they weren't paying attention to me," Marcie replied. "I keep telling you, I'm good at blending in."

"Richard threw Bethany's lunch pail on the roof!" Anita pushed her way forward to say. Ariel and Eric turned their gaze towards the girl; she shrank under it, curtseying quickly, lowering her own gaze. "Your majesties."

"Richard?" This was Dandler now, and he looked rather annoyed at the idea that this meeting had been interrupted by all these children. "My grandson Richard? He wouldn't do such a thing."

"He stole my lunch pail, Mr. Greiner!" Bethany declared, showcasing a new dent in the side of it that had surely come as a result of it being thrown. "He stole it and she told him not to throw it, but he did it anyway!"

"Then she beat him up!" A child declared, their voice ringing out clearly.

"He started crying, like a baby!" Someone else said, causing a ripple of laughter to run through the children, only to be quickly shushed out by their parents.

"She gave him a fat lip!" Another voice declared, despite the shushing going around.

Ariel turned to Marcie, apprehensive. "You hit a boy?"

"Tried to grab the lunch pail as he was throwing it, and it nicked my ear," Marcie said, tucking her short locks behind her ear to show off her still red and aching ear. "My hand went out to protect and got his face."

"That's not like Richard, he would never do that," Dandler said, scoffing at the idea. "And he would never let a girl hit him."

The way he said girl stung Marcie, and she felt like making a smart remark, but it was Anita who answered instead. "Richard is a bully, Mr. Greiner. She's the only one of us who's ever been brave enough to stand up to him."

"He stole my marbles!" Someone said, clearly upset.

"He ripped my doll's arm right off!" Another voice called out.

"He stole my lunch pail last week!" Someone else came to the declare.

"Mine too!"

"Gotta say, Mr. Greiner, that boy came into my barn last week and untied three bundles of hay I had just finished up rolling," an adult explained now, rather sour at the idea.

"He did bury my pickaxe a month ago, Mr. Greiner, remember, we spoke about it?" Another adult spoke up, their voice sounding exasperated.

"I once left a pie to cool and when I turned around, he'd jammed his fingers into it," someone else complained, seemingly at the end of their rope.

"Alright, aright," Dandler held up his hands, surrendering. "I'll talk to the boy, is that acceptable to everyone? But all these children in here, we're getting away from the real issue, what we're going to do about the harvest for next year, and the years beyond."

"Oh, yeah, about that," Marcie spoke up again, thoughtfully, rubbing her sore ear as she recalled it hadn't stopped hurting. "I figured out your problem."

Here Dandler turned to her, as well as Ariel and Eric, who had been watching the entire exchange curiously. "You figured out what's making the topsoil weak?"

"Uh-huh," Marcie answered the older man, nodding.

He stared at her, then shook his head. "Begging your pardon, Princess, but I don't know how much farming you've done in your life."

Anita blanched, looking at the redhead in shock. Surely she had heard it wrong. "Princess? But...you said your name is Marcie!"

The redheaded teen grimaced. How could she explain? "It is Marcie."

Anita's eyes widened. "You're Princess Harmony! The Princess who was missing!"

Marcie pushed up her glasses, her grimace deepening. "Look, I'm still me. Being a princess don't change that. I learned to read off the Farmer's Almanac. I learned to walk by pushing a plow. I know farming."

She didn't notice, but as she spoke about farming, her accent thickened, the soft edges in her speech growing hard and determined. Quite unusual for a princess.

"Dandler, we've been talking in circles for over an hour and we're getting nowhere," an adult said in response, seemingly frustrated. "Maybe the Princess has something different to say."

"I think we should give the Princess a chance, Mr. Greiner," another voice called out.

"C'mon, if the Princess says she's farmed before, maybe she's got good ideas!" Another voice suggested.

Dandler grit his teeth. He was quickly losing control of this meeting. "Alright, your highness, what're your ideas on the topsoil?"

"Uh," Marcie started, looking out at the crowd of adults and kids, and swallowing hard. She wasn't used to public speaking. She flicked her eyes back to Eric and Ariel.

Sensing her hesitation, it was Eric who gave her a reassuring smile. "Go ahead, what do you think?"

Marcie blinked. Besides the doctor when she cut her hand on glass, grownups had never had asked for her opinion. Still, unused to public speaking, and suddenly feeling shy, she dropped her eyes to her shoes, scuffing them awkwardly on the wooden planks beneath her feet.

She took in a deep breath. "Um…so, like, when I got up on the roof, I noticed there's no grass, or trees, or anything. It's all just farms. There's nothing for the soil to root in. And you keep planting wheat, over and over, so your soil gets worse and worse, till you can't grow anymore. All it's gonna take is a really dry season, and nothing will grow because the soil will get picked up in dust storms, or if there's heavy rain and everything will get flooded out."

"Grass? Dust storms?" Dandler cherry picked from her statement, practically scoffing. "Princess, these sound like old farm stories someone is trying to scare you with."

"'S not, it's happened," Marcie answered firmly, looking up at him sharply. "All those old farm stories, there's truth in 'em. It's the reason why you plant when the weather turns or you harvest just before the wheat turns gold. You're messing with nature, and it's gonna mess right back if you don't listen to those stories."

"You know, my grandfather always did say circulate today, better crops tomorrow," someone in the crowd mentioned loudly, almost as though they were voicing their thoughts to the rest of the group.

"We could use a couple of trees around here, might make the village look livelier," another voice offered, as though they were answering their neighbor.

"I wouldn't mind planting some more green grass, and heck, even bushes might be nice, maybe blueberries?" Another voice intoned from the crowed of adults.

"Mama, can we plant roses?" An excited voice—Anita, Marcie could see her in the crowd—asked.

"I want big climbing tree!" Another young voice—Bethany—chimed in, creating a ripple effect of laughter amongst the adults.

The murmurings of agreement started to grow into ideas being pitched, voices rising with thrill at the notion of planting something new. Before her, Marcie saw a village coming together, brainstorming and analyzing, with their friends and family, ways ensure their livelihoods.

Unfortunately, Dandler saw this too.

"Folks, it's nice the Princess wants to help," he began, causing Marcie to look back at him. "But we've got real problems here. And it's all well and good to plant fruits and flowers, but where are we supposed to get the money for those seeds? We're a wheat community, always have been, always will be."

"The Crown could help cover the cost for a sack full of new seeds to each family," Ariel offered, mildly.

Dandler looked green at the idea, but it was Marcie whose voice rang out, almost repulsed. "You want everyone to accept charity?"

"It's the Crown helping where needed," Ariel tried to correct the girl, frowning. She wanted to say more, but Eric snaked an arm around her waist. She looked at him in surprise, but his gaze was intently fixed on their daughter.

"It's charity," Marcie explained, to the agreed murmurs of the crowd. She sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as she turned to Dandler. "What grows in the west part of the country?"

That threw Dandler for a loop. "What?"

"This is the Eastern Villages, right?" Marcie said. "These guys," the teen jerked a thumb in Ariel and Eric's direction, "live in the south, with cliffs right up on the water. And there's villages in the mountains, but usually mountains are north. So, I'm figuring the west side of the country is more farmland; what do they grow?"

"I…don't know, your highness," he answered, guarded, if not still slightly suspicious.

"Ask 'em. Cause chances are, if they're not having these issues with soil, they've got different things they're growing." Marcie shrugged. "Make it like a co-op, you meet in the middle, you trade pound by pound on what's in your stores, based on market rate after winter."

"Spring is planting season," Dandler responded, still not sold on the girl's idea. "We don't have the luxury of taking days off to meet with the Western Villages, Princess."

"Planting season don't begin till mid-spring, when the ground is thawed out enough," Marcie returned, holding steady to his gaze. She wasn't going to be written off when it was something she knew well. "But early spring is when you start planning for fall."

She huffed, feeling herself grow bolder, if not a tad exasperated that she had to spell this out. "You've got two options: you mess up the environment and us kids pay for it in the future, or you take off a few days out of the year and trade for new seeds. Plus, if the market isn't flooded with only wheat, demand goes up, and so does profit."

Dandler regarded the princess. He had to admit, even if she had overturned this important meeting with the monarchs, it seemed like she knew what she was speaking about. More than that, she was coming up with what he would describe, begrudgingly, as good ideas. Ideas that made sense and were rooted in old farming traditions, ones the Eastern Villages had strayed from as the profit margins for wheat had continued to increase.

"Fine," he admitted, at length, almost as though he resented his own acquiescence. "Maybe we consider, and only consider, the Princess's advice, least till their majesties can get opinions from other villages in the kingdom to see what they recommend as well."

"I think," Eric started, placing hand on Marcie's shoulder. She looked at it, startled at hearing his voice, as though she'd forgotten he was there. She didn't shake his hand off, though, realizing with a lurch that he sounded proud. "That sounds like an excellent plan."


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.