Morning comes in the glare of the Appleloosian sun—already harsh this early in the day—slanting through the crusty window of the attic and catching within the dust shimmering in the air. With no chirping birds or the busy buzz of bees, there's a peaceful quiet in the stale air, only occasionally disturbed by the squeaking floorboards as Applejack places items down on them.
“So you’re leaving?”
Applejack looks up to see Cherry Jubilee ducking her head into the attic, bushy red locks brushing against the doorframe.
“Ayup,” she answers, sitting up straighter on the bed. “I’m goin’ home.”
Jubilee bumbles her way over to the bed Applejack is sitting on. There, she deposits the small pile of items in her arms: folded shirts and trousers, toiletries, a box of cherries and a bottle of water that goes rolling across the bedspread.
“It’ll be a long train ride ahead, and I imagine you didn’t bring anything much here. I have too many spare clothes just lying around on the ranch, anyway,” Jubilee puts her hands on her hips and says explanatorily. She glances at the royal-purple leather suitcase on the floor beside Applejack. “Where’d you get the suitcase from?”
“Oh, it’s one of Rarity’s spares.” It had taken Applejack a while to figure out how to open it until she found out about the magnetic clasp and that each and every one of the ten bucklestraps on it had been purely ornamental. That girl did always bring too many baggages, though Applejack isn’t complaining this time.
Sheepishly, she scratches her head, “Thanks for the stuff. Sorry I didn’t stay that long.”
Jubilee lets out a breath. “Don’t be. I didn’t think it was wise for you to stay for long, anyway. You’re still a high schooler, and you have your own family, friends, and farm to go back to. Not to mention that van was impossible to repair.”
“Yet you still let me try to repair it?”
“You looked liable to chomp off my head if I kept insisting otherwise,” Jubilee points out wryly.
Applejack snorts softly. “Yeah. That’s true. Sorry about that, too. I wasn’t of a good mind at the time. Still, I hope you and the ranch will be alright.”
“Fret not, it will be. I’ve still got Snips and Snails, and every hard worker who agrees to come, no matter for how long they stay,” Jubilee assures her. She pauses to put away the shirt, then inhales deeply, as if preparing herself. ”Actually, I’ve also been thinking about what you said to me that day. I’m going to reach out to my family again.”
Applejack’s eyes go wide. “Really?”
Sighing, Jubilee sits down beside her on the bed and starts refolding a shirt. “I’m not sure if they will even respond. But I’m going to try.”
Applejack smiles, her heart warm. “But yer givin’ it a shot all the same. I’m mighty happy for ya, Ms Jubilee.”
“I guess even when you get as old as me, you still learn useful things from the youngsters sometimes,” Jubilee laughs lightly. “And you helped me fix the mill too before you left. Thank you for that, too.”
“Hey, it’s no problem. I was the one who caused the issue, anywho,” Applejack says. “Oh! And one more thing,” she stands up and walks across the room. She pulls out a drawer, takes out her sketchpad of ideas from it, then returns to Jubilee.
“For you.” She holds out the sketchpad. “I designed them specifically for the systems on Cherry Hill Ranch, so I’ve got no use for them anyway. It’s also a thank-you, I guess, for taking me in when I was at my worst.”
Jubilee takes the sketchpad and thumbs the corners of its pages, staring at it for a long, silent moment, as if she can’t find words.
“I… well, thank you,” she finally utters, her face an unreadable expression. “Hmhm. It definitely won’t be the same not having you around.”
Something itches within Applejack. Then, without pausing to reconsider it for too long, she leans down and wraps Cherry Jubilee in the briefest of hugs. “I’ll miss ya too, ma’am.”
Jubilee nods, blinking a little fast. Lengthily, she clears her throat. “Well, if you tarry any longer, you’ll miss your train too.”
Applejack snorts. “Sure, I’ll be out of yer hair right away.” Clasping shut the packed suitcase, she steps into the doorway.
“Oh, and one more thing, Miss Applejack,” she hears her call out.
“Hm?”
A spark of mirth lights up the woman’s eyes. “Sorry to say this, but you’re fired.”
“Oh, no,” Applejack says, barely repressing her chuckle. “So I really did get fired on the first week.”
“Yes, you did. For stealing my bike, and for the cherries you obliterated on the first day, and for being a general menace to Snips and Snails,” Jubilee nods sagely, ignoring Applejack’s protests to the contrary. Then, the strict scowl slips from her face, replaced with a soft smile.
“But you’re always welcome back here—whether it is to reapply, or just to say hi. Even if you never do, I hope you’ll remember that you’re amazing, talented…” she looks toward the door, where the sounds of her friends’ chattering wind from, “and so very much loved.”
From her head, Applejack removes her hat, and holds Tallulah to her heart. As is custom. “Yeah. I’ll remember.”
“Now—go!”
“Alright, alright!”
~~~
The train ride home is uneventful. They leave in the afternoon and reach Canterlot the next day. Then comes the issue of making it back home. Twilight suggests that they go to school first, so Applejack finds herself in Ms Cadance’s office again.
Ms Cadance drives Applejack to Ponyville and drops her right at the village entrance. The buckles on Rarity’s suitcase jangling in the cold morning quietness, Applejack walks along the meandering dirt path of the village, past the schoolhouse, past the lake, back to Sweet Apple Acres.
When Applejack does reach the top of the short hill, she hesitates outside the doors of the homestead for a moment, not totally sure of what she should do or say when she goes in, or how they’re going to react. Squaring her shoulders and inhaling deeply, she steps inside.
Everyone’s at the table. Granny, Big Mac and Apple Bloom, hunched over breakfast plates. At the sound of the creaking door hinges, the three of them turn to stare at her.
“Hello,” Applejack greets.
For a long and terrifying few seconds, no one says anything. Applejack thinks maybe they’re going to disown her or something, and that she’ll have to go crawling on her butt back to Dodge Junction and change her name to Cherryjack. Then, with a long skreeeeeeee of dragging chairlegs, Granny Smith stands up.
At an excruciatingly slow pace, Granny totters over. Applejack breathes in, fully ready to accept the smack to her face or a furious smattering of scoldings. But instead, Granny draws her into a wordless hug. Applejack freezes up, but slowly, slowly, leans down to reciprocate the hug. She muffles her face into her neck and breathes in, letting the familiar scent of apples clinging to her scarf prick at her eyes.
“Come eat,” is all Granny says.
Applejack does eventually explain the events of the past week. And obviously, Granny does chew her out for her irresponsibility. Applejack listens and doesn’t interrupt. Until the end, that is, when Granny sentences her to no household chores for a week as punishment, which is plum ridiculous and Applejack tells her so.
“Besides, it’s unfair to Big Mac and Apple Bloom,” she says.
“Nuh-uh,” Big Mac rumbles.
“Nope,” Apple Bloom chimes in.
(Applejack lives in a family of weirdoes. But, since she’s off her rocker too, she supposes she hasn’t a right to complain. )
Applejack knows she’s never going to hear the end of this for the rest of her life, but above it all—she’s just glad to be back. So is everyone else, who despite the jibes and pointed remarks, are evidently relieved that she’s home safe and in one piece.
With her family taking over most chores for the week, Applejack finds herself with a staggering, previously unknowable amount of free time. She spends most of that time studying for her end-of-semesters and researching universities, and helping at the anniversary fair (since she’d been told no chores ‘in the house’). But she does still take some time for herself: goes for a run with Carrot Top around the lake, brings home two books from the school library. She even toys with the idea of building a drone or remote-controlled plane for the fun of it (and yeah, maybe also to impress Rainbow Dash).
One day, Apple Bloom calls for Applejack from the kitchen. Applejack finds her little sister standing in front of the washing machine and laundry baskets half-filled with damp clothing.
“You left this in your pocket in the wash,” Apple Bloom says.
Applejack takes a good gander at the faded writing on the gold slip of laminated paper dangling between her fingers. “Is that… the spa ticket Rarity gave me?”
“How would I know,” Apple Bloom shrugs. “It’s yours, I guess, do what you want with it.”
“M’kay,” Applejack keeps it and steps forward towards the laundry baskets. A hand shoots out in front of her.
“Back, back.” Comically, Apple Bloom fans out her hands, as if Applejack were a chicken to be shooed away from the porch. “Granny said no chores for you.”
Applejack pouts. “Awww, not even just one chore?”
Apple Bloom stares. And stares. She rolls her eyes. “You are so totally weird.”
Obligingly, Applejack retreats a distance away and folds her arms behind her. Once Apple Bloom has arbitrarily deemed her safely away, she hmphs and turns to continue unloading the washing machine. Applejack can’t help a little smirk.
“You and me both. I never thought ya’d ever agree so easily to a week of more chores.”
Apple Bloom huffs as she inverts a sweater the right way out. “I don’t like doing chores, but I volunteer to do more chores a lot. You just don’t let me do them.”
“Okay, my bad,” Applejack concedes. “How’s yer science project goin’?”
Hazel eyes glare.
Applejack puts up her hands in surrender. “I’m just askin’ out of curiosity! I swear, I ain’t touched a single bamboo-hair on yer project since I got back, an’ I don’t plan to. It’s all yours.”
On those words, Apple Bloom relaxes. She tosses the sweater into the basket. “It’s true you haven’t interfered with my shishi-odoshi even after you came back. I continued workin’ on it while you were away, so it’s pretty much done by now. I’m gonna submit it to Miss Cheerilee next Monday.”
“Mhmm,” Applejack nods. “Have you thought about how yer gonna get it to school?”
Apple Bloom freezes up. “Ummm…”
“There’s a small wagon in the barn you could use,” Applejack says. “The farm should be good without it for the day. You can take it with you to school on Monday.”
“Like…” Apple Bloom hesitates, “by myself?”
“I could help you with it if you want,” Applejack shrugs. “But you can also take it and go to school by yourself. I think you’re old enough.”
Clear disbelief rolls off Apple Bloom. “You’ve changed.”
“I’m trying,” Applejack lets out a soft chuckle. “Listen, ‘Bloom, I’ve had a lot of time to think this past week. And I’m really sorry that I meddled so much in not just your project, but everything else too. It’s just that, I watched you grow up since you were just a wee lil’ walnut, and sometimes I forget that yer not a baby anymore.”
Apple Bloom’s face softens. “I know it was difficult for you growin’ up. That’s why I wanna help, I wanna be useful on the farm too. Imma’ big girl, and I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” Applejack says. “It’s gonna be hard letting go, but I want to trust you. So starting from today, I’ll try to let you manage your own things. I know I’m stubborn as all get out, heh—but if ya ever think I’m being overbearing, tell me and I promise I’ll listen and we can talk it out.”
Nodding, Apple Bloom brightens like a sunflower opening its petals. Applejack opens her arms wide and Apple Bloom goes running headfirst into a crushing hug.
After they part, Apple Bloom looks back to the row of laundry baskets, all brimming with clothes to be hung. Applejack sees the weary sigh in her sister’s shoulders.
“I know Granny said not to, but…” Applejack says. “Can I help? Just help. Not takin’ over.”
“Keeping secrets from Granny, huh?” Apple Bloom’s lips curl.
“Sisters’ promise?”
Her smile reaching her ears, Apple Bloom mimes zipping her mouth shut. “Sisters’ promise.”
~~~
With the help of Carrot Top and a few others, Applejack manages to gather the townspeople in Sweet Apple Acres’ farmhouse. The small farmhouse barely manages to contain the entire population of Ponyville, but they deal.
Applejack’s up on the makeshift podium, which is really their dining table pushed to the back wall of the living room plus the announcement system they’d dragged in from outside temporarily. There’s maybe a hundred people in here, shuffling their feet about while they wait. When Applejack taps the mic, the murmurs of conversation die down somewhat, and a hundred pairs of eyes turn on her. Instantly, she feels a flutter of anxiety at the attention, but having the rest of the Apples standing by her side calms her down enough to speak. There’s a lot weighing on this get-together, after all.
“Thank you all for coming today. I know most of y’all are busy with the anniversary fair so I’ll get to the point. We have a problem,” she starts. She gestures outside at the Super Speedy Squeezy 6000 parked by the window.
“Flim and Flam are people from out-of-town who have been sellin’ on our grounds for the past week, fully knowing that this is the autumn selling season for us farmers. They’re using the fact that Barnyard Bargains is havin’ their anniversary to gain the attention of the investors Filthy Rich invited. And it’s plain to see that it’s workin’. For those of y’all under Barnyard, that means, our crops are gonna sell for less than they could; for y’all not under Barnyard, they’re still stealin’ the customers that are coming to our town.”
She breathes in, “That’s why we have to stop them.” She surveys the room, taking in the familiar faces, and knowing they find her just as familiar.
“What this village needs is teamwork. To hell with the official rules, this is Ponyville’s turf, and ain’t nobody is gonna take that from us,” Applejack insists. “We all have to work together against Flim and Flam, no matter our differences. So please, sincerely, I’m askin’ for your cooperation: we need a plan so we can all get through the winter.”
The village bursts into chatter. Applejack's nerves jump in her chest like wild jackrabbits, her grip on the microphone clammy. It’s hard to discern whether the reaction is a positive or negative one, and who’s to say anyone will take a seventeen-year-old seriously?
Then, from the crowd, a woman emerges—it’s Berry Punch. Applejack watches nervously as she ambles to the front of the farmhouse and comes to a stop in front of Applejack, holding out her hand.
Awkwardly, Applejack gets down from the dining-table-podium and passes her the microphone. Berry Punch taps the microphone a few times in testing, then speaks.
"I’ve noticed the Flim Flam problem too,” she begins firmly. “I know many of us are still goin’ around supporting each other, but Applejack’s right. T’ain’t enough for our winter sales, and them investor rascals from Barnyard are gettin’ shifty eyes even though they’re supposed ta’ be here for us. We need a better plan.”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd once more. Someone else steps up. Berry Punch passes the microphone on to Lily Valley, the florist. Her voice is much more timid than Berry’s, but she lifts the head of the microphone to her lips. “I think working together is a good idea. I for one would be happy to put together a shop with any of you.”
“Oh!” comes from somewhere in the crowd, a hand shooting up. The youngest son of the Lemons comes bouncing up, taking the microphone and getting up on the table. “How about a big market?”
Gradually, more and more villagers start coming up one by one to put together their plan. By the end of it, it’s not so much a speech rather than one big round-table style discussion, with people passing the microphone around and pitching their ideas. They stay for the next hour or so, in which they strategised together, and after that, they finally leave with something that looks like a plan, and a timeline to carry it out. Applejack’s not gonna lie—seeing the village get together again like this blossoms a hope in her heart that she hasn’t felt in a long while.
Afterwards, the villagers start saying their goodbyes. Many of them chide her with good intentions, and just as many tell her they missed her. Carrot Top gives her a big hug and tells her to stop by for tea.
As Applejack thinks she’s waved the last person off, a gravelly and unfamiliar voice sounds behind her.
“That was quite the rousing talk you gave back there.”
Applejack turns around to see the person she least expects here.
It’s Grand Pear. He’s a short man, shorter than her, skinny, with a knotty green scarf around his neck and mats of stringy white hair clinging to his scalp.
Maybe he was being sarcastic? But his lips are curved into the semblance of a wrinkled smile, which kind of freaks Applejack out a little, because she’s never seen his face do anything but frown. She hadn’t thought the eldest Pear was actually capable of smiling.
Consarnit, Grand Pear was giving her a genuine compliment. Now the Oh, you again? on the tip of her tongue seemed pretty rude. If this were in the past, even if the compliment had been genuine, she might’ve still scoffed like yeah, sure and walked away. But Filthy Rich’s words surface in her mind: that maybe they had more history and more in common than she thought. Maybe this was a chance for her to try reaching out to her neighbour instead of clinging to grudges like a stubborn koala.
Belatedly, Applejack realised she had gone for a while without speaking. But Grand Pear didn’t seem to mind, as if he had been lost in thoughts of his own.
“Your Ma was much the same,” Grand Pear murmurs, as if reminiscing. “She was no attention hog, but she was always humble and helpful, and everyone in the village loved her. She was able to pull a crowd together and the people would listen to her. ”
“You knew my Ma?” Applejack questions.
“Of course I do,” Grand Pear says. “She’s my daughter.”
“She’s your-” Applejack feels her brain short-circuit. “Wait. That means. Wait,” Applejack stutters, stumbling over her words.
Grand Pear doesn’t give Applejack the grace of letting her process the fact that she is half-Pear and Grand Pear is her grandfather. “Yes, my daughter Pear Butter married y’all’s Apples’ Bright Mac, and had the three of you scamps. Didn’t you know that already?”
“But my mum’s name was Buttercup,” Applejack remembers.
“A nickname,” Grand Pear grunts, “given to her by Bright Mac. Maybe so the rest of yer Apple family wouldn’t find out. Though it was still a darn tootin’ miserable job they did of hiding it.”
“Why didn’t they want others to find out?”
Grand Pear sighs. He starts turning around, and Applejack thinks that maybe it’s just something he didn’t want to talk about, but then he beckons to her with a wrinkled hand. Frantically, Applejack bounds over to catch up to him.
After exiting the farmhouse, Grand Pear starts hobbling down a hill across the grass. Applejack’s never been down this hill before. The grass is long and uncut, reaching up past her farm boots to sweep at the back of her knees. The hill itself looks unmarked by any trails or dirt paths, and is pretty steep too. Treading carefully herself, Applejack watches Grand Pear’s tottering steps warily. From his uneven footfalls, Grand Pear would obviously benefit from a walking aid, but if Applejack were to guess, he likely refused to use one, just like Granny.
“As you might already know,” Grand Pear starts gruffly. He’s stopped walking for a bit, maybe to rest, allowing Applejack to catch up proper, “the feud between the Pears and Apples has been around since a very long time ago. Even back in my time, there was already a feud. There might have been a feud in my own grandfather’s time.”
Shuffling his feet, Grand Pear walks on again, now following a curve down the hill. Applejack falls into step behind him, close enough to catch him if he slipped. Grand Pear continues murmuring.
“A relationship between a Pear and an Apple was unthinkable. And when yer parents passed away together in that accident, it made the feud worse, although you may’ve been too young to remember. Long story short, we Pears blamed the Apples because it happened in y’all’s barn, the Apples were blamin’ us because Bright Mac had been trying to save Pear Butter. We never really forgave each other.”
They reach the foot of the hill.
“But there had been a moment of peace. Before the anger overtook us again, there had been a brief truce. Right after they passed.”
Two trees stand in the clearing. One’s an apple tree. The other’s a pear tree—though Applejack can’t tell on sight, the pale golden fruit lying at its leaf-littered base gives it away. The last few browning leaves cling to each tree’s mostly bared branches, fluttering together in the cold winter breeze, while ripened fruit lies fallen on the ground, unharvested. The trees are planted together so closely that their canopies are merged into one, impossible to tell which of the two certain branches belonged to. With such little room between them for their roots to grow out, it’s a wonder either of them are flourishing.
A miracle.
“Those trees… I found yer Ma and Pa as they were gettin’ married right here behind the hill. I witnessed them as they threw the seeds into the ground; some kind of sentimental wedding ritual, I suppose. Not that it mattered to me at the time—I was so honkin’ mad that I cut off contact with her after she moved to live with Bright Mac. ”
Applejack doesn’t say anything, but her disdain must be loud enough on her face. Grand Pear’s nostrils flare, but he settles back down, as if resigned.
“Even though I could’ve, I never found the heart to dig up the seeds, especially after they passed. If you ask, I do regret what I did. I miss her terribly. I’m sure you must too.”
She nods, her breaths fogging in the cold air.
Grand Pear exhales with a grunt. “Hearing yer speech today made me think that maybe we need to try harder again and recreate that peace. Even if none of us wanted to admit it, it was plain as day y’all’s Bright Mac made my little Butter happy. They wouldn’t have wanted us to hate each other. So for their sake, I’m willing to put aside old grudges and start anew. What do you say, Applejack?”
It’s not much, but it’s an olive branch of peace. A start. Applejack takes it.
~~~
ME: do you guys wanna go to the spa maybe
One of these days
RARITY: YES
RAINBOW DASH: have you been possessed
or kidnapped again
ME: Shut up I’ll haunt you
RAINBOW DASH: type three dots if ur being held hostage on a mangosteen farm
Oh nvr mind now I know ur definitely aj
PINKIE PIE: what is happening
spa??? YES
TWILIGHT SPARKLE: Sure, but when, Applejack?
ME: [image sent]
This expires next week, I think
Rarity gave it to me I just don’t want it to go to waste
It went through hell in the wash though do yall think it still works
FLUTTERSHY: we can still try!
RARITY: I’ll *make* it work, don’t worry. We are getting you in that spa, Applejack, and you are going to have the best time of your life.
RAINBOW DASH: I seriously don’t get why you love spas so much
RARITY: [image sent]
This you?
RAINBOW DASH: WHY DO YOU HAVETHAT
RARITY: [image sent] [image sent]
RAINBOW DASH: WHAT
DELETE THOSE
NOW
RARITY: no ❤️
~~~
The van may be gone, but Applejack still has to get to school, somehow. The Harvests next door lend them a small truck. Big Mac offers to drive her.
As Applejack buckles herself in the co-driver seat, Big Mac shuffles through the truck’s compartments. There’s a stack of CDs in one of the drawers he pulls out. He punches on the radio. “Anything you wanna listen to?”
Applejack shrugs. “Anything’s fine.”
Big Mac plugs a random disc in the player and slides it in with a click. As the engine rumbles to life, the twangy strumming of guitar and easygoing drums winds through the space and carries them onto the road.
“Ah, I gotta make a call,” Applejack says.
“Go ahead.”
Applejack isn’t even fighting the grin when she flips open her phone and keys Rainbow’s number in. The recipient picks up near immediately.
“Eager, aren’t we?” she can’t help teasing.
“Please.” Murder-goose profile picture flicking off, Rainbow’s face comes through the screen. “Dude. I’ve been awake for a whole hour waiting for this.”
“You make it sound like I’m the live TV premiere of a Wonderbolts airshow.”
“You kidding, the live? I’d be there at the showgrounds.”
“Flyin’ one of them planes?”
“Pfft. I’m just a rookie. Captain Spitfire would have it out for me if I did that now.”
“Would that stop you, though?”
A broad, devilish grin breaks out across Rainbow’s lips.
Big Mac huffs from behind the wheel. “I know y’all are joshin’ around, but tell yer friend not to do anything stupid.”
Rainbow perks up, leaning towards the camera. “Big Mac’s here too?”
“Yeah, he’s driving me,” Applejack says, pivoting the phone slightly until Big Mac’s profile is captured within the screen.
“Heyyy, big guy! Long time no see!”
“Howdy there yourself,” Big Mac spares a glance at the screen. “Ain’t seen you this cider season.”
“Everyone in the village knows you for the cider season, by the way,” Applejack informs Rainbow. “Filthy Rich asked about you too.”
Rainbow whistles. “Aww, was I that popular?”
“Infamous, more like. They remember you because you always make a dayum scene when yer late and have to wait for the next cider batch,” Applejack deadpans. “That and because your hair’s as bright as Apple Bloom’s crayon set.”
“Cute. Send them my regards.”
“I would, but I think they’ve heard enough from you.”
“But I only go there once a year?”
“Hearing you once is enough for a decade, trust me.”
“Why are you a bully,” Rainbow says. “Big Mac, tell your sister to stop bullying me.”
“Eenope,” Big Mac smiles.
“Uuuugh. All of y’all are bullies, I swear,” she groans. “Well, anyway, nice talk, but I gotta go for my morning run now. But come over to my room after school. We still have a lot to talk about.”
“Yeah, we sure do,” Applejack agrees, eyeing their last conversation history. “I’ll be there.”
“You better be. I have pizza,” she pauses. “I hope you like Hawaiian.”
“Ya know, you really have the worst taste in food.”
“I have great taste, thank you very much.”
The things I put up with, Applejack tells herself. The dumb smile lingers on her face long after they hang up. Meanwhile, Alan Jackson on the radio goes on singing:
Livin' on love, buyin' on time
Without somebody nothing ain't worth a dime
Just like an old fashion story book rhyme
Livin' on love
~~~
“Now, I didn’t tell you before,” Applejack remarks as she walks in through the door of room 520, shedding her coat to drape it on the hook, “but recently you’ve been lookin’ like death.”
“Man,” Rainbow raises her head from the couch. No concealer to hide them this time, obvious bluish-purple eyebags droop beneath her eyes, and angry red blisters of picked-apart pimples pepper her forehead and cheeks. “How’d you tell.”
“RD,” Applejack walks over, moves aside several Star Wars plushies to make room, and plops down on the couch beside her. “Are you okay?”
Rainbow buries her head back into a stuffed robot…R2-D2, maybe? Heh. It sounds like her name. “Pizza. Freezer. Now,” her disgruntled voice demands.
Sighing through a smile, Applejack ruffles her mop of hair and gets up to locate their dinner. After moving aside packs of dumplings and yoghurt boxes, she finds the frozen Hawaiian pizza stashed in the lower compartment. A few minutes later, the microwave dings and Applejack returns with the goods on a plate.
“When you said you had pizza, I though ya were gonna order delivery,” Applejack says, unimpressed, as she squats down and feeds a slice of cheesy, pineapple-covered monstrosity into Rainbow’s awaiting mouth. “Frozen pizza? Seriously?”
“Omnomnom,” Rainbow munches through the pizza. Her throat bobs as she swallows, after which she sits up like a robot with its batteries newly recharged. She coughs. “I was considering delivery, but I got too tired.”
“What did you have before this?”
“School, 8 to 12 P.M.,” Rainbow rattles off, “lunch for thirty minutes, catch interview 12.30 to 1.30P.M., the interview overran by thirty minutes, back to class until 5. And now I have to catch up on the classwork I missed today, and the days I missed before that, and later I'm still going for track training.”
“Wow,” Applejack says.
“That, and I have flight school on the weekends, so I gotta cram it in the evenings,” Rainbow concludes her miserable recount, before slumping back down into R2-D2’s fuzzy belly. “...More pizza please.”
Applejack responds to this by lifting another cheesy slice, feigning feeding it to her, before abruptly swerving it so she can send it into her own mouth. As more of the pizza disappears into Applejack’s belly, Rainbow curses in realisation and vehemently wriggles her body forward on the couch until her fingers stretch out far enough to grab a slice for herself.
She throws the middle finger at her as she chows it down. Applejack sticks out her tongue and throws one back. They wordlessly consume pizza for the next few minutes. Then Rainbow Dash sits up.
“I want to dye my hair again,” she says suddenly.
Applejack looks at her blankly.
“I haven’t had the time for it recently,” Rainbow sulks, wiping off her oily fingers with tissue before twirling a brunette strand between them. “But… if someone could help me with it, it would be a lot faster.”
Applejack scoffs. “You are so not subtle.”
"Hmm? Subtle about what?" Rainbow blinks innocently.
Applejack puts a hand on her forehead and sighs. "...I've never dyed hair before, just so you know."
"I'll instruct you! Pleaaaase?" Rainbow’s pleading puppy eyes are less cute than probably intended to be from the massive eyebags.
“...You’re lucky I like you,” Applejack sighs, only realising what she’s said seconds later when Rainbow’s eyes widen a fraction, but at this point Applejack figures she’s run her mouth far too many times to attempt backpedalling anymore. “What can I do for you, my liege.”
Rainbow’s grin sparkles with undisguised glee. Under her direction, Applejack procures a box of materials from the bathroom. She works a comb through Rainbow’s tangles, then pulls on a pair of rubber gloves while Rainbow wraps a sheet around her shoulders, and then coats her hair with bleach. While they’re waiting for the bleach to set, Rainbow sits with her damp, starchy-white locks of hair and gives her further instructions.
Half an hour later, Applejack carefully rinses out the bleach from the hair and dries the now light-blonde strands with a hair dryer. The intimacy of the whole process isn’t lost on Applejack: what with the way Rainbow pliantly leans into Applejack’s touch, the feel of her silky strands as she cards her fingers through them to separate the locks. It’s a relief that Rainbow’s back is turned to her so Applejack doesn’t have to think about how red her face might be as she indulges in the moment.
Once Rainbow’s hair is clipped into sections, Applejack hovers wary hands over a paintbox of multiple pots of vibrantly coloured pastes.
“I already mixed it properly, so all you gotta do is glob it on my hair. Just think of it like painting,” Rainbow’s voice floats. “Now, don’t just throw on everything everywhere, there’s a certain way I like to do it. The front, this part is red, then orange, then…” She points at her own hair as she continues.
Applejack stills. “You’re dyeing it rainbow?”
“What did you think I’d dye it?”
“Uhh, solid purple or somethin’, like you said. For professionality an’ the Wonderbolts or whatever.”
“Oh, screw professionality,” Rainbow smirks. “Purple’s so boring. I’ve decided rainbow’s my trademark, so I’m sticking to it.”
“Alright then,” Applejack says. “Do you want me to get a mirror? So you can call me out while I’m goin’ to town with yer precious hair.”
“Nah. I trust you,” Rainbow swishes her head about, her grin a shark’s. “But fair warning: if you screw this up, I’m never talking to you ever again.”
“Oh, alright, guess you’re never gettin’ yer cider ever again then.”
Rainbow Dash cries foul. Snickering, Applejack picks up the brush and dips the head in the first pot, a vivid red concoction labelled ‘poppy’. Holding out a panel of hair between her fingers, she smears a the first layer of colour over the strands, prodding the bristles right at the roots as Rainbow tells her to, painting across the expanse and down to the tips, covering the fading colours there with fresh, intense hues. After a while, Rainbow, apparently satisfied, allows Applejack to continue without further instruction.
Applejack loses herself in the methodical movements, but then suddenly the half-painted head in front of her droops forward. The brush in Applejack’s hands narrowly misses, her snatching it away quickly before it can apply the colour to the wrong panel of hair. Abruptly Rainbow sits up, shaking herself.
“Sorry, I must’ve dozed off,” Rainbow sounds apologetic.
“How much sleep have you been getting?”
“......” A prolonged silence. “Give or take three hours? I dunno, I stayed up all of last night doing math, don’t make me do math right now.”
Applejack exhales. “You’ve been really stretched thin these days, haven’t you.”
Rainbow snorts lightly. “Ya think?”
“You know you don’t have to take on so many darn things if it’s stressin’ you out,” Applejack says. “And for homework, I’m sure if you appealed to the school, they’d let you take an extension or two. Or several.”
“Ms Cadance did tell me that,” Rainbow sighs. “But I don’t want to- I mean, it just feels like losing if I did that. I’m sure I could handle it all if I stopped procrastinating and organised my time better.”
Applejack shakes her head. “If it’s too much, you need to cut down. Yer- what, in additional classes, captaining the track club, doing yer Wonderbolts thing, plus you’ve got all those TV and radio stuff too? That’s crazy, I dun even know how you’re alive.”
“Makes for a good resume,” Rainbow says dryly.
“Resume or not, t’ain’t sustainable. We’re not even in finals season yet.”
Rainbow visibly crumples. “Don’t remind me of that.”
“But it’s true,” Applejack presses. “You know, it’s not admittin’ defeat to ask for help or to take things a tad easier; you gals were the ones who taught me that, weren’t y’all? Even when Ms Cadance was tellin’ me to be more involved in school activities, she also warned me about burnout. Finals are a marathon not a sprint,” she parrots. “You have to conserve yer energy for the later rounds.”
“She was telling you to be more involved in school activities?”
“Yeah,” Applejack paints a sky-blue stripe down Rainbow’s hair. “When yer constantly travellin’ between the city and village and workin’ on a farm, it’s hard to do much at school.” She pauses. It takes a while, but she manages to string her thoughts into a coherent sentence. “To tell the truth, I was… pretty jealous of you. It felt like you were doing so much, while I was out there doing nothin’.”
“That’s just wrong, you’re always busy on the farm. That’s not ‘nothing’,” Rainbow argues.
“Sure didn’t stop me from feeling like it. You see, the farm’s mah whole life, an’ I’m pretty used to taking charge of everythin’. It wasn’t until recently that I learnt to rely on the rest of my family too, that I’m not alone.” She breathes. “That even if I thought I could handle it all on my own, I didn’t have to. That goes for you too.”
“Ahh, so you’re having me take my own advice,” Rainbow folds her arms. “Neat.”
Applejack chuckles; Rainbow joins in, their laughter echoing about in the small common area of the dorm. After a moment, Applejack adds, “We’ve always been plenty similar in lots of ways. So, Rainbow, if you talked me out of my funk while I was being the dumbest goose alive, surely you can listen to me now.”
Rainbow raises an eyebrow at her. “You calling me dumb?”
“If you don’t listen up and take time for yerself, then yes, I am.”
“Psh. Asshat.”
“Now, now, don’t take it out on my hat.”
“Noble, but m’referring to you, not the hat.”
“Yet here you were, makin’ me feed you pizza like a servant while you were too lazy to move your butt. Who’s the real asshat here?”
Possibly unable to refute that statement, Rainbow decides her sole appropriate response is stealing Tallulah from Applejack’s head and slapping her with it. Applejack wants to wrestle back, but is too terrified of ruining her work on Rainbow’s hair to do so, so she ends up swatting the air in the other girl’s general direction.
Cackling hysterically, Rainbow eventually settles back down and lets Applejack finish her job. From there, it’s a rinse and dry, and by the time the whirr of the hair dryer halts, the sky is already dark outside, the sunsets growing earlier with the oncoming winter.
Only now does Rainbow accept the mirror. She scrutinises her reflection for a few seconds, before nods in satisfaction.
“Not bad. You get to talk to me again.”
Applejack rolls her eyes. “As if you would ever quit yammerin’ to me.”
“Bro, I don’t talk that much.”
“You gave me twenty-one missed calls in total. You travelled across states to talk to me.” Applejack reminds her. “You flew a goddamn plane over a desert to talk to me.”
Rainbow groans and lowers her head.
“But by all means… don’t ever stop,” Applejack adds, quieter. “And for me, I’ll try to… talk more too, I guess. Tell y’all more about what’s happening with me instead of buryin’ it all quiet-like.”
“Mmh,” Rainbow nods. “I’ll think about what you said too.”
“Yeah,” Applejack gives a small smile. “By the way, if I might put in a word? I think Bulk would make a great track captain too.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Rainbow grins. Her eyes flick to the clock on the table. “Speaking of track, I gotta go soon.” She gets up, stretching out her arms.
“Oh yeah, it’s time. I’ll see you around then,” Applejack stands up, packing up the items on the floor. “I’ve also got to make it to another Decor Club meeting. Got a lot of those recently, what with the Fall Formal soon an’ all.”
At the words Fall Formal, Rainbow stiffens. They stand awkwardly for a moment.
Right. There was still that.
Applejack takes a deep breath. She started this; she’s going to finish it. She can do this.
“And speakin’ of the Fall Formal,” the words come out more naturally than she thought they would, like they’ve been aching to be released. Rather than like a dam bursting free, though, it feels more like a river running its natural course, trickling down from a mountain spring, flowing out to the wide open ocean.
“I don’t know if ya saw my text that one time. I was drunk when I wrote that, and I deleted it right afterwards, but I meant what I said.”
Rainbow’s eyes have gone wide. She seems at a loss for words, so Applejack dislodges the last words from her throat finally:
“So, even if you were rejecting me, I wanted to ask you properly, so you can reject me properly, at least.”
A few very long seconds pass. Then, Rainbow stutters, face aflame by now. “Wait, uh, I wasn’t rejecting you?”
Confused, Applejack stares at her. “But you ignored the text?”
Rainbow buries her face in her hands. “Omigosh omigosh. I am so stupid.”
“Huh…”
“I thought that you deleted the message right away because you didn’t mean to ask that,” Rainbow says. “Or that you were trying to ask someone else. Or, uhh…”
“...Fair.” Applejack sighs. Her heart’s pounding fast inside her chest right now. She hadn’t planned on popping the question this soon, even it was a silly, innocent question like this one, but when did anything ever go according to plan with Rainbow Dash involved, anyway?
But Applejack’s still a traditionalist, and a hopeless romantic to boot, so she makes a split-second decision: a gesture, though clumsy, that would try to convey as much as a lady asking another lady to a not-prom could convey.
She peels off her dye-stained gloves and shoves her hand out, hoping the furious blush on her face isn’t as bad as it feels. “Rainbow Dash. Do you wanna, maybe, dance with me at the Fall Formal?”
Rainbow stares at the outstretched hand, and even as time rushes on about them, for a moment Applejack swears she feels the world grind to a halt, just like it had three years ago. This time, Rainbow smiles and slips her hand into Applejack’s, the heart of her palm warm against hers.
“Yeah, let’s.”
~~~