The beginning didn’t really start that day, or that, morning, or even before I decided to enter the competition. It started when the other ponies at my table decided they wanted to have a drawing contest. I agreed, and started drawing a picture of a pony dressed in a long, red ball gown.
I didn’t end up winning, because Featherweight is a really good artist, but the others though my picture was so good that I should enter the school district’s annual art competition.
I thought it was a good idea, especially since my (late) older brother won first place for three years straight. That was another thing I used to struggle with: comparing myself to my brother. He was very popular and always won at everything.
Anyways, we had a big assembly with all of the other schools. During the assembly there would be a slideshow of all the art that the students had drawn. To tell you the truth, I felt very proud of my drawing and how good it was. That feeling quickly vanished, though, as the competition’s hostess began to announce the names of everypony who participated.
I waited and waited for my name to be called but it never came. The lump in my throat and the fresh tears behind my eyes grew heavier with each passing second.
Rumble leaned over to me and whispered quietly, “The hostess said of she didn’t call your name you can go up anyway.”
“I think I’ll wait a moment longer.” I replied. “I don’t want to make a scene of myself.”
Soon the mare reached the last of the list, and my name was never said. I desperately wanted to hide in the bathroom and cry in one of the stalls, but I managed to hold on a bit longer.
I avoided talking to anypony as we got back to the classroom and got our backpacks. While I was putting my papers in mine, Featherweight came up to me.
“Hey, I thought you entered. I saw your picture in the slideshow and I was there when you drew it.”
“Yeah,” I choked out, already tearing up after saying just one word. I got my stuff and stood in the line, trying to pull myself together. I’m not sure how many ponies know this, but Mrs. Cheerilee is a teacher that actually likes to converse normally with her students when she has the chance.
“Scootaloo, how’re you doing?” she asked politely.
“Fine,” I said, looking her in the eye, certain I didn’t look like I could turn into a sobbing mess at any moment.
She motioned with her hoof for me to follow her. We walked into the hall and said, “Are you feeling alright?”
Well, that did it, alright. A sob escaped my mouth, and then another. Gosh, I was so embarrassed. Crying in the middle of school, able to be seen by anypony who happened to be passing by. I tried to stop as fast as possible, which is actually a lot harder than it sounds.
Mrs. Cheerilee put a hoof around my shoulders and led me to the gym to see the hostess, but unfortunately she had already left. Cheerilee told me that apparently there were about four other students that also had not gotten recognition. Suddenly I felt even worse inside. I’ll bet they didn’t cry!
After the bell rang I tried to leave as fast as possible and get home so I could let all my sadness out in peace. Unfortunately, karma had other plans. As soon as I left the building I ran into Sweetie Belle not literally) and I weakly said, “Hi.”
“You look sad, Scootaloo,” she said, and lead me over to the side of the school where not many ponies were. She wrapped her arms around me and held me close. I started sobbing into her shoulder. For those moments, it was just me and her, and nothing else mattered. All I could feel were the loving arms around me and the sound of her breathing, while everything else stayed black.
Then I heard another voice in my ear: Apple Bloom’s. “Scootaloo? Are you okay?” I pulled back from Sweetie and tried to wipe the tears away, but my efforts proved to be in vain, as the tears kept flowing out of my eyes. The last thing I wanted right now was to attract attention to myself.
A hoof was placed on my shoulder. It was Rumble. “Scootaloo?”
“Go away. Scootaloo doesn’t want any boys here,” Sweetie Belle said.
“No, please stay,” I said, looking over at him. Suddenly to schools doors flew open and a pink blur ran over.
“Scoots, that was amazing!” Diamond Tiara exclaimed, throwing her hooves around me. Now I was actually completely confused.
“What do you mean?” I asked, sniffing.
“Your picture, duh!” Silver Spoon said, now standing by Diamond’s side.
I looked down. “Oh, you saw that, huh?”
“Everypony did!” Diamond Tiara said, releasing me. The two seemed completely oblivious to the fact that I was crying.
“See you later, Scootaloo!” Apple Bloom said, giving me a quick hug. “I gotta go finish up my chores.”
“I should probably get home, too.” I said.
“Need some water after losing all those fluids, eh?” Rumble said, making me crack a smile.
As I walked home that day, I felt like crying all over again, but this time it was because I was so happy I had such good friends.
There was also this other time when I had a late-night party with the other CMC. This was bfore I had figured out I was a lesbian. We were playing truth or dare, and Sweetie Belle and I stood next to each other, apart from the others.
“I dare myself to kiss you on the cheek.” she said quickly, and leaned over and kissed me. That moment was very brief, but I would remember her soft lips on my fur forever.
When she pulled away she blushed and said, “Sorry, but I just love you so much.” I know she meant platonically, but I guess some sort of pre-lesbian instinct in me kicked in, because, even though I couldn’t think straight, I said, “I dare myself to kiss you back,” and so I did.
I couldn’t tell you how long I had my lips on her cheek, I really couldn’t tell. My heart started racing so fast I could have jumped to the moon. I could remember smelling her mane and being amazed at how soft her fur was. I’m sure when I pulled away that my face was entirely red, but I wasn’t sure. The whole rest of that night was a blur.
I’m not really sure what Sweetie Belle thinks of me. We have been best friends since the first grade. I know she hasn’t mentioned that kiss ever. But she does give me a lot of hugs.