It was one of those summer days, the kind where the stifling, humid air seemed set to drown a pony. Scootaloo sighed and kicked a pebble down the road, uncomfortably aware of the warm sweat trickling its sluggish way down her mane. The sun’s rays tickled her coat with an irritating warmth, her mouth was dry and sticky and tasted of dead things. And to top it off, she was bored out of her mind on the third day of vacation.
“Heya, Scoots, what’s shakin’?” Scootaloo jumped half out of her skin and wound up a gangly pile of tangled limbs and dusty confusion.
“Pinkie, don’t sneak up on me like that!” she spluttered, picking herself up. It seemed like these days she was always tripping over her hooves, like her legs had grown three sizes and the rest of her had just grown two.
“Sorry, Scooterbutt,” Pinkie laughed, as free and joyful as ever. “You just looked really down, and I figured I’d see what I could do about it.”
“It’s just.... Bloom’s fixing the barn ... again, and Sweetie’s getting her magic lesson today, so there’s not really much for me to do today,” Scootaloo sighed.
“What about practicing your tricks?” Pinkie asked, halting in her bouncing for a moment. “I haven’t seen you on your scooter for a week now.”
Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “The mayor decreed that I couldn’t practice in town grounds for the whole month,” she grumbled. Pinkie gave an overdramatic gasp. “I know, right? It’s not like the City council was using that greenhouse for anything anyways, and I said I’d pay off the window repair costs!”
“Well, Scootaloo,” Pinkie began, “Do you wanna get a milkshake at Sugarcube? It’s a pretty hot day.”
“Sure, Pinkie.” Scootaloo shrugged and followed Pinkie through the streets. Even with her long legs, Scootaloo was hard-pressed to keep up with Pinkie’s crazy leaps and bounds. And while she was aware of every devious drip of smelly sweat streaking its way through her mane and feathers, Pinkie didn’t seem to be affected. She didn’t sweat, she just ... glowed somehow.
Pinkie stopped and gave her an encouraging smile at Sugarcube’s door. Scootaloo opened the door and looked around for a free table. The heat was better under a roof, and a single, wheezy fan stirred the air. Almost every pony had something cold to combat Nature’s fury, although the Corner was pretty empty for a Saturday.
“Why dont’cha pick a place to sit and I’ll get us some shakes?” Pinkie asked from right behind her. Scootaloo jumped but avoided her previous freak-out. As Pinkie trotted by her, Scootaloo felt something fluffy drag along her flank, right above her cutie mark. Did Pinkie know her tail had just ... or was it just an accident? Either way, the heat just jumped about ten degrees, and Scootaloo struggled to keep her wings in the realms of decency. She snagged a table in the darkest, emptiest corner and fidgeted nervously. Pinkie bounced over with a sly grin and two strawberry shakes, Scootaloo’s favorite.
Pinkie sat down across the table and shifted, her back hoof just barely brushing up to Scootaloo’s knee. That fluttery, twitchy energy wouldn’t leave Scootaloo’s chest, and she couldn’t stop looking into Pinkie’s open, bright eyes. It was one of those summer days, the kind where a bunch of weird feelings kept cropping up, but Scootaloo couldn’t get enough of it.