According to her count of the days, Marcie was positive today was Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving usually meant days off from school and a general buzz around town, excitement for snow that was sure to come soon, if it hadn't already. The trees would have shed their leaves by now, and the sidewalks would be lined with the crunch of red and yellow hues beneath your shoes.

She inhaled deeply, and let it out in a slow, controlled way. She'd had so many plans for the holiday. She and Matt would have pulled together the biggest feast anyone had ever seen, and Caity and Adam would have been so happy, they would have stopped making out, for once. Now all her money was set to pay back Ariel and Eric for the vase she'd broken and boots she'd bought, and Thanksgiving was already halfway over.

Glumly, she rested her chin on her knees. The book she'd been toting around, stuffed with the extra homework Coral gave her was by her side; she'd started hiding the completed homework in her book bag. It was the only place she figured no one would look, even though her room was tidied up daily, and by the evening a new dress was left hanging for her for the next day. She still made the bed every morning, feeling bad if she left a mess behind for someone else to clean up.

"What are you doing?" A voice called out to her, curious.

Marcie looked to her right, seeing Melody walking towards her. She wore a simple green dress, a large, gold shell necklace around her neck. Marcie sighed, extending her legs. "Nothing."

Melody's brows knitted together, and she tilted her head, asking, "Why are you wearing shoes on the beach?"

"Not planning on getting wet." Marcie intoned, looking out towards the sea. Coral told her yesterday she wouldn't be able to make it that afternoon, something about her turn to help her dad at the store, but Marcie waited anyway, just in case. Not like she had anything else to do.

"I could teach you to swim, you know," Melody offered, after a stretch of quiet lingered between the girls. "I've always been good at swimming, since Mom is—"

"No, thanks," Marcie cut her off, a bit more than she had intended. However, she wasn't interested in nearly drowning for the third time in her life, twice since she'd come here.

Melody sighed. So much for trying to make amends. "Are you still mad at me?"

"No." It was true, she wasn't angry, nor had she been for what felt like a long time. She mostly felt sad these days.

"Then why won't you talk to me?" Marcie gave her an obvious look. She had been speaking with her, hadn't she? Melody made a face. "I mean, really talk to me, more than a few words."

"Don't feel like talking." Marcie mumbled, turning to look back at the sea.

"You never feel like doing anything," Melody complained, mostly to herself and under her breath.

"That takes care of electric, so we have…we have some leftover."

Adam handed her an envelope stuffed with cash. She licked the stamp, slapping it on, before licking the envelope itself. Her stomach growled; she ignored it.

Instead, she inhaled deeply. This was going to be a tough conversation. "Adam?"

"Yeah?" He was busy counting quarters, making sure his math had been correct.

"Adam, I was thinking…" She bit her lip. "Mr. Morris, you know, he's getting on in the years, and he could really use someone 'round the farm. He offered me a job, helping out, and he'll pay good too, he said. Only…"

She hesitated. Why was she so nervous about this? "Only he said, he'd need the help full-time. So, I was thinking, maybe, I take this semester off from school."

"You can't quit school," Adam said, looking up at her as though she'd grown another head. "You've barely started high school, you can't drop out."

"It'd only be for this semester," Marcie protested. "And it would help. We wouldn't be scraping at the end of the month; we might be able to finally buy a real waffle maker."

"That's what you care about, a waffle maker?" Adam asked, disbelievingly. "You want to drop out to buy a waffle maker?"

"Not just that," Marcie shook her head. "I want real food, no more discounted canned stuff because we can't afford anything else."

"Who do you think you are, some kind of celebrity rich person, too good for canned food?" Adam pushed back, hotly. "We don't got a lot, that's never been a problem. We always figure it out."

"I'm tired of figuring it out," Marcie explained, exhaustion in her voice. "I'm falling asleep in class as it is, there's barely any point of being in school. At least this way, I get paid, I can really provide for us. It'll only for a little bit, and next year, since you'll be in college, it'll just be me I'm supporting."

"You're not the only one working," Adam said, crossly, offended at the implication that he wasn't pulling his weight. "I work all weekend at the pet store in Kearney."

"Yeah, but between the two of us, we're barely keeping up. Not like the Old Man holds down a job." Marcie sighed, her shoulders dropping. "Look, Mr. Morris said if I work full time, and weekends during this fall, he'll give me double. Double, Adam."

"There's no way," Adam answered, curtly, turning from her to signify that the conversation was over. "You're not falling behind, you're graduating on time and you're getting the hell out of here."

"But—"

"We'll survive, we always do."

She hadn't thought the redhead had caught it, but Marcie whipped around to give her a hard stare. Melody startled, for the first time in their conversation getting a good look at the other girl. And she was looking haggard. The circles under her eyes were starting to darken; was she even sleeping?

She was about to ask as much when—

"Hiya, kiddo!" A voice called from above. "How's it coming?"

Melody brightened, looking up and disregarding her previous thoughts. Probably just shadows off the girl's glasses anyway. "Hey, Scuttle!"

"Check it out, found this shell way out on a sandbar!" Something dropped from the sky, and Melody caught it, as though expectant. She turned over the smooth, almost see-through shell in her hand, admiring it.

Melody smiled widely. "Thanks! I'll add it to my collection."

"No problem!" The voice chirped, coming lower. A white bird landed between the girls, standing and shuffling his feathers. "Boy, haven't flown that far in a long time!"

"It's a great shell," Melody said, tilting her head now, curious. "Any other interesting ones out there?"

"Sure was!" The bird replied. "There was at least three…uh, four…wait, now hold on, maybe there was six…?"

"Never mind, I'll find it," Melody laughed, good-naturedly. "Have you seen Tip or Dash today? I was supposed to meet them here."

"Yep, they weren't too far behind me," the bird replied, before he leveled a perplexed look at Melody. "Thought I saw your mom down here? May've been trick of the sun, but I thought I saw her red hair."

"It's not Mom," Melody's smile dipped, and she gestured somewhat behind Scuttle. "It's...well, that's Harmony."

"Whoa!" Scuttle turned slightly, realizing, for the first time, that someone else was there. "Harmony, huh? Hey, she's got the same name as that sister of yours that disappeared, Melody!"

"Scuttle," Melody said, cringing, pressing a palm to her head. "She is my sister."

"Wowza!" Scuttle exclaimed, peering at the other girl who stared at him with a mixture of alarm and confusion. "Well, would ya look at that! Name's Scuttle. How's it going?"

The redhead said nothing in response. She was still trying to decide whether this was a toy, a puppet…or if it an actual bird was talking to her.

"What's a matter with her?" Scuttle asked, gesturing a wing in Marcie's direction, and looking over at Melody. "What, catfish got her tongue?"

"She grew up far away from the sea," Melody explained, shrugging. "She said she didn't feel like talking today."

"What's wrong?" Scuttle hopped closer to the redhead, and she scooted back. "She sick?"

Melody shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Huh," Scuttle said, using wing to scratch his beak in thought. "Maybe it's those eyezamatcallits, they're so thick, she can't see out of 'em right, makes her dizzy."

"Glasses," Melody supplied the right word, shaking her head. "I don't think she's dizzy in them. I think she uses them to see better."

"See what ya want down here, but nothing's better than a bird's eye view from above!" Scuttle answered, cracking up at his own joke.

"Safer to be higher too, no one can hurt you when you're up there," Marcie finally agreed, hoarsely, still not sure why she was responding to a bird, but finding that he had a point.

Scuttle seemed surprised, and then elated. "Yeah! I like that. I'm gonna use that one!"

"Melody!" A voice from the water hollered.

Melody looked out to the sea, along with the others she was with, and waved. "Hi, Tip!"

"We're not getting any younger here, come on!" The voice from the water—a penguin?—called back.

"Tip," another voice said, calmly beside the penguin. A…a walrus? "We've got plenty of time."

"Yeah, plenty of time to burn daylight, let's go!" The penguin said, and Melody's smile return, wider now.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she laughed, before turning to the bird. "Scuttle, up for another flight out to that sandbar? We could sure use a guide."

"Never have to ask me twice!" The bird said, before looking back at Marcie. "Nice to make your acquaintance, kiddo! Guess I'll be seeing you around!"

Melody was already halfway in the water by the time the bird lifted off into flight again, soaring above, heading off back over the sea. Marcie stared after the dark-haired girl, watching as she dove into the waves with ease, swimming out to the penguin and walrus. Even if they made an odd group (who was friends with a walrus, penguin, and a bird?), she couldn't swim, and she was barely on speaking terms with Melody, she couldn't help but feel left out.

Marcie bit her lip and pushed the feeling down. She grabbed the book instead, and decided to go back to the hayloft. At least she could add notes in the margins of the homework.

"That your sister back there, Melody?" Dash wondered, sending one more glance in the redhead's direction, before following the teenager's lead as she started to swim out.

"Uh-huh," Melody answered, lazily, still using her feet to propel her. She knew she'd catch up to Scuttle in no time, thanks to the magic in her locket that could transform her into a mermaid. It helped to have a grandfather who wielded a powerful trident and had twelve birthdays to make up for.

"She seems sad. Maybe we should turn around and invite her." Dash said, nervously, not wanting to be rude.

"She wouldn't come, even if we asked," Melody said, shrugging her shoulders up and down. "She doesn't want to do anything. Besides, I told you, she can't swim, she wouldn't be able to keep up."

Tip decided to jump into the conversation, flippers first on high alert. "Unless, of course, the Titanic Tip, in an act of selfless bravery—"

"Tip, Melody already said you can't make her sister go into the water just so you can save her from drowning!" Dash exclaimed.

"Oh yeah, blubber-brain?" Tip challenged, quite put out that his idea had now been denied twice.

Dash responded snappily. "Who're calling blubber-brain, beak-breath?"

They descended into an argument, and Melody relaxed into the water, diving further down. A part of her did feel bad for not extending an invitation, as Dash had pointed out, but another part of her was glad the sea, at least for now, was one less thing she had to share.

Many liked to compare Coral to her Aunt Ariel, who was famous for, amongst other things, always wreaking havoc upon the palace. Whether it was bringing home a sea-dragon for dinner, or escaping with a giant seahorse into the wilds, everyone seemed to have a story about Ariel getting into trouble.

Of course, her Aunt Ariel was the youngest of seven; with so many sisters, sneaking around was easy. Coral, on the other hand, was the oldest Atlantican grandchild, daughter of the King's oldest daughter. When she wanted to be sneaky, it required more finesse than hiding an orca calf under her bed.

After creating no less than four distinct distractions (she had a lot of cousins), she found herself alone in the aptly named scroll room. There were thousands of scrolls, neatly stacked upon each other, upon shelves that were so high, she'd probably bump her head on the ceiling. They'd been categorized carefully by their scroll handles, each a different color to signify subject area.

"Marcie is going to owe me for this," Coral said, twisting her lips and shaking her head. "Okay. Where would I find information on two worlds? Maybe…science?"

She pulled out a green colored scroll from the top of a stack, opening it fully, and reading aloud to herself, "'Kelp Forest Harvesting: The Effects of Kelp on a Well-Rounded Diet.'"

Coral made a face. "Maybe not science. What about…history?"

She swam to the other side of the room, pulling out a large orange handled scroll this time, and once again reading aloud, "'Atlantica: The First Five-Hundred Years.'"

"Not a big help either," she sighed, putting the scroll back atop with little care. She did not account for its weight, however, and her rough handling caused the orange handled scrolls on this shelf to tumble down, falling to the floor.

"Oh, no!" She groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. "Great. Just great."

Sighing, she grabbed an armful of orange scrolls, and shoved them back onto the shelf. She leaned down again to grab another armful, when something caught her eye. Peeking out, slightly, amongst all the orange, was a deep, dark red.

"What's this?" She wondered, reaching for it, and finding a smaller scroll tucked into a larger orange one. "It must be in the wrong place. I can put it back, just over…just over…"

The blonde looked around the room, green eyes searching for the same shade of red. However, she could not find anything remotely near it. There was green, there was purple, there was even a lighter, more vibrant red, but nothing near as dark as this. It reminded her almost of blood.

"That's odd," she muttered to herself, now curious, opening the small scroll up. "'Recollections of Victim 632: Scroll 71 of 200.'"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Two-hundred scrolls?"

She read further from the scroll, now too intrigued to stop, "'Victim 632's child fell ill, beyond the help of healers. Victim 632 went to the Sea-Witch on the harmonic tide.'"

Coral's eyes widened more than they ever had before. Every merchild knew the stories, doubly so for the history her family had with such a creature. "The Sea-Witch?"

She kept reading, now rushing to get the story out, "'It was a three-day journey. The Sea-Witch offered a potion that, once created, could heal the child, if drank within two days. If Victim 632 did not have the child drink the potion within two days, Victim 632 would belong to the Sea-Witch. Victim 632 agreed.'"

Coral paused. She had a sinking feeling she knew where this tale was heading. The Sea-Witch wasn't known for cutting fair deals, after all.

The teenager pressed on, though her grip on the scroll tightened. "'Despite many setbacks in the expedition, Victim 632 returned to their home within two days. But the child had died. Victim 632 belonged to the Sea-Witch.'"

Coral sank down, bubbles and sand floating around her. She felt a heavy loss for the unnamed creature. Despite her sadness, however, she kept reading, her voice softer now. "'Victim 632 was transformed into a polyp. Victim 632 witnessed the Sea-Witch's various deals and experimentations on living and dead creatures over many years.'"

Coral's green eyes narrowed, confused. "Mom never mentioned the Sea-Witch did experiments on the living and dead…"

She kept reading, wanting to find out more. "'Victim 632 witnessed the Sea-Witch try to bring back to life a drowned human, to create a human and sea-creature monster. Victim 632 heard the Sea-Witch speak on many occasions about a thousand-year curse. The Sea-Witch repeatedly attempted to find ways to overcome the Divide, to rule over both worlds. Victim 632 also heard the Sea-Witch refer to it as the 'In-Between'.'"

Coral shot up. "That's what Marcie called it! The In-Between!"

Hurriedly, she returned to reading, her eyes scanning the scroll as fast as she could, tumbling the get the words out. "'Victim 632 saw the Sea-Witch refer to a scroll with a transparent handle when speaking about the Divide. Victim 632 was saved when the Sea-Witch was killed by..."

Coral squinted at the word, unable to make it out. It appeared smudged right on the name. She turned the scroll upside down, but it did not make reading the name any easier. She pursed her lips.

"I guess it doesn't matter who killed the Sea-Witch, only that she's gone.," Coral said aloud, thinking it through. "Okay, moving on: Victim 632 gave a full account to the palace guard for this report four diurnal tides later.'"

She nodded to herself, understanding now, and continued reading. "'Follow-up with Victim 632 impossible; Victim 632 ended their life by the next coral bloom. No scroll with a transparent handle ever found in the Sea-Witch's lair.'"

Coral blinked. That was where it ended. It had been a short scroll indeed. She sat for a moment, at a loss, taking in everything she had learned.

She heard water parting, as though someone was swimming. She thought quickly, shoving the small scroll inside the large orange handled scroll she had pulled out earlier, putting it aside from the rest. Then she proceeded to grab another orange handled scroll, turning her back as though she was busy, and pretending to be in the middle of placing it back atop the other scrolls on the shelf.

"Coral?" A voice called from behind her, as though they were uncertain.

The girl whirled around, knowing that voice anywhere, trying to act as nonchalant as she could. "Oh, hi, Grandpa."

"Now, what are you doing in the scroll room?" King Triton asked, his trident held in his hand, a bit taken aback at the site of the girl. "Your cousins are all practically bubbling over a whirlpool in the palace, and you're in here?"

His words confirmed that her third distraction had worked; Coral was relieved to hear it. It meant she had still had some time left before they found the fourth distraction, and then found her. She'd have to remember to thank Marcie; without her, she would have never done the extra science homework that discussed small whirlpool formations.

"I was looking something up," she explained, picking up another orange handled scrolled, and placing it with the rest on the shelf. "Then I accidentally dropped all the scrolls."

"What were you looking up?" King Triton asked, a hand going to his beard in thought.

"Oh, um," Coral fumbled, focusing her attention on grabbing an armful of scrolls this time. "Just a project."

"For tide school?"

Coral bit her lip, turning around to deposit more of the scrolls where they belonged. She didn't want to lie, but she was explicitly told not to involve adults. "I'm working on it with my friend."

"Your new friend, the one who moved recently?" King Triton questioned after, interested. Coral nodded. "You're certainly spending a lot of time with this friend."

"You'd like her, Grandpa," Coral said, sincerely, turning back to face her grandfather. "She's really nice, and super smart. I think she knows everything there is to know about farms!"

"I look forward to meeting her, then," King Triton answered, inclining his head slightly. He usually tried not to involve himself in his daughter or grandchildren's friend groups, but even he'd heard Coral's grades had been steadily improving upon making this new acquaintance. "It's nice of you to be a good friend to her. I'm sure moving from the farming areas to the center of the kingdom was hard."

"Sometimes she gets a little sad," Coral acknowledged. Briefly, she felt the urge to ask her grandfather about something her friend had mentioned—could a father really not like his daughter? She wrestled with the urge to ask, but decided against it. "But I always bring candy to study, and that cheers her up! She likes the sourest of all the sour candy."

"Well, good on you for setting an example for your cousins," King Triton responded, swimming forward to place a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder, leaning down to her height. "I'm proud of you Coral. You're growing up to be such a kind-hearted mermaid."

"Thanks, Grandpa," she said back, her smile not quite as far ranging at it should have been at the compliment. Would her grandfather still approve if she said her friend was a human girl who she did homework with up on the surface?

"I'll tell you what, dear," King Triton said, straightening up. "You go find your cousins and play. I'll finish stacking all these scrolls."

Coral blinked, a bit surprised. She was used to being in constant trouble for creating a mess, not being told to ignore it and go have fun. It didn't quite feel as much of a reward as it should have, considering that she wasn't giving anyone the full truth.

Still… "Thanks, Grandpa!"

She didn't need to be told twice. Coral swam up, kissing her grandfather on the cheek, before hurriedly swooping back down to grab the large orange handled scroll she'd tucked the smaller scroll into.

"Bye, Grandpa!" She called behind her, wasting no time. She heard her grandfather's good natured, booming laugh behind her, and a part of her, a small part of her, felt like swimming back around and coming clean.

But more than guilt, she felt excitement. She couldn't wait to see Marcie and show her what she'd found.

Disclaimer: Melody, Tip, Dash, Atlantica, King Triton, 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.