Preview of the Next Chapter of All-American Girl · 2:15am May 3rd, 2013
Chapter 9 rewrite!
Unaware that they were now being the ones watched, DJ and Elusive both grinned as they noted their respective spouses’ conversation. “It looks like they’re getting along great – Mike’s enjoying himself, I can tell,” DJ replied.
Elusive nodded. “I’m glad. When she was younger, Butter’s sister used to tease her often about stories involving humans – the mythological monsters, not the actual species.”
“I’m pretty sure that a few people’s kids were threatened that the ‘Alien Demon Horse’ – namely, me – would take them away from their Mommies and Daddies if they didn’t behave. Heck, half of them did it at the school I went to when I was a kid – and this was a Catholic school!” The humanized pony took another drink of her wine. “But hey, that’s just what it was like, being the Alien Girl.”
“Well, at the risk of being honest, DJ, you’re a wonderful mare – excuse me, woman – and I can’t see how anypony in their right mind would ever think otherwise.”
She blushed slightly at the stallion’s correction in words; it was a clear sign that though he saw her as his sister, he also saw her as what she was. “You didn’t have to correct yourself. I know I’m technically an earth pony instead of a human.”
He shook his head. “But that’s where you’re incorrect.” He sighed, knowing this was going to be the hardest part to say, because in some ways, the admission would be tantamount to admitting his mother’s failure. “Sandalwood…she’s dead. She died thirty-five years ago, before I was born, when she was hit by a magical lightning bolt that spirited her away. She crossed the dimensional barrier and ended up growing into the person you are, DJ.
“You are my sister. I have hoped that since that day I saw you two decades back that we would someday meet again. And I have seen how much Mother and Father have longed for the return of Sandalwood and that all the expectations of that life were foisted onto Minty. But you said it yourself: you are not Sandalwood. And from what I see, that’s correct: I don’t have a sister named Sandalwood. I have a sister named DJ.” He paused before asking, “Um, that is a nickname, I’m assuming?”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes misting, a precious emotion coming into them: you’re accepting me – me, not the Sandalwood everyone expects me to be. “It’s actually short for Daisy Jo.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” he said. “But I would be honored to have a sister named Daisy Jo just as much as I would have had one named Sandalwood.”
Tears of joy ran from violet eyes. “Look,” she said, her voice quavering as a smile came to her face. “I’m crying again. I guess I’ve been hanging around Cinnamon too much.”
This is a really sweet scene.