Make a Mistake with Me

by CoffeeAndCigarettes

Track #3: Blue Jeans and a Rosary

Track #3: Blue Jeans and a Rosary

The old radio next to you prattles on its boring newsfeed of the day. You bite into the stale chicken nuggets you were storing in your backpack earlier. The mixbox had been crushed under your algebra books, but the contents were still somewhat edible.

Hell, they had been 'somewhat edible' when they were fresh. What they were now was anyone's guess.

You're dangling your legs off the side of the building, staring at the early sunset. The lands around Canterlot High School spread all around you like a painting. All too two-dimensional from this vantage point. To get some sort of substance, you'd have to be down there, joining the droves of students heading home.

But instead, here you were. At the rooftop of CHS, enjoying what some would call food.

As the radio starts to talk about the third total disappearance of a person in Canterlot City, you hear the metal door nearby swing open. You don't even bother to look for cover. If it was a faculty member, you were already in trouble. And if it was a student, there was only one that knew where you liked to hang out.

“Hey there, Windy!” comes the excited shout from Sonata.

“Never call me that again,” you say with a grimace. “Piter's gonna drag me back to Never Never Land if we're not careful.”

“Why? Aren't you being a proper Lost Boy right now?” Sonata tilts her head adorably.

Your palm careens into a high-speed collision with your forehead.

“No. Just... no,” you grunt. “Just forget it. And don't call me that. Just North. Or Wind.”

“Oh, okay North,” Sonata answers and plops down next to you. “So, what'cha doing?”

You show her the mixbox in your hand and throw another nugget to your mouth. As you munch, hungry glee lights up in Sonata's eyes and she opens her own jaws. Damn. Those are some sharp canine teeth. Was this girl a carnivore or what?

Still, you do as told, and dunk one of the nuggets into the waiting maw. She happily accepts it, chewing the chicken production waste like it was a five-star meal.

“Well? Did you skip lunch again?” you ask. Sonata nods.

“Yeah. I mean, I totally get why they're doing all those theme days. They're fun, I know!” She says, only to frown afterwards. “But Worcestershire Wednesday? That's just weird.”

“You tell me,” you say and chuckle. “And here I thought Milk Monday was odd. Just what's up with this school anyway?”

Sonata leans in like a conspiracy nut, mischievous grin on her face.

“I hear it's because Vice Principal Luna's got super weird taste,” she fake-whispers. “Like, she devoured eight plates of frittata last Friday.”

You snort and nearly choke on the damn chicken nugget you were chewing. The mental image of the blue-hued faculty member chowing down like there was no tomorrow was forever etched into your mindscape. Maybe you should get around visiting cafeteria some time in the future.

… Crap. Now you were hankering for some frittatas. If only there was a sunglasses-wearing housecat here to offer them to you.

“So?” you ignore your cravings and look at the girl next to you. “How were Poof and Aloof?”

Sonata stifles a giggle. Very badly.

“Y-you mean Adagio and Aria?” she asks. “Wait. If they're Poof and Aloof, then what am I?”

You think for a moment, taking a good look at the bouncy blue ponytail and the innocent expression she's wearing. Since your arrival at CHS... hell, long before that in fact.... she's been the only one who's been able to relax so much in your presence. Towering over other students and looking like reject from The Renegade might have contributed to that, sure, but there was also the subject of your soured reputation.

In short, Sonata was either too kind or too dumb to care about that.

You went with the latter. The first option was just embarrassing.

“Goof,” you answer simply.

“W-what!? Goof? That's horrible!” Sonata laughs, looking absolutely not-shocked at all. “You're such a meanie, North!”

“I know, right?” you chuckle yourself and throw your arms up in a mockingly spooky manner. “The evil ex-juvie's gonna call you nasty names and probably steal your pocket change! Swirleys are served before every lunch while Indian burns are applied to all the nerds after school!”

At this point you're no longer able to keep your facade, grinning like an idiot from ear to ear. Sonata's sharing the feeling, as she's cackling on her back, flailing her arms and legs like she was having a seizure.

“He'll a-also whip his supermullet at you if you come too close!” she cracks-up. “R-r-rainbooms beware, none of your dumb books are safe from h-his cigarettes!”

Both of you collapse on the rooftop, unable to hold the bubbling amusement in check. For a moment or two, the rooftop of Canterlot High is awash with mirthful guffaws and gleeful snickering. It's like a release of some nitrous oxide happened all of a sudden, leaving you and Sonata laughing like two people gone insane.

Yet, for some reason, you find it incredibly satisfying.

You haven't laughed like this in a long, long time. Maybe you forgot how for a while. So now that you're gasping for air and your stomach hurts, it's actually a relief. Perhaps some part of your brain wondered whether you were still capable of it.

And you have the blue-haired girl next to you to thank for that.

You'll probably never say it straight to her face, but...

… You're glad you met Sonata.

“Oh God, that...” you struggle to say. “That was just what the doctor ordered.”

Laying on your back on the cold concrete of the rooftop, you stare up at the sky. Winter was creeping around the corner, and days were getting shorter slowly but surely. Even now, though it's not long after the school let out, you can see the rays of the sun turning bright bronze in color. One by one. Give it a few hours, and there'd be a sunset.

“Adagio and Aria are doing fine, by the way,” Sonata suddenly says, smile still gracing her lips. “I mean, they're super grumpy and angry and all, but Aria found some work. So... so we might get some money soon!”

You nod at that. It's good that at least something's going the way of these girls. The two of them might not have liked you very much, but still, Sonata was part of their gang. You wanted her to be alright. And knowing she might no longer need to sleep and shower at school relieved you. Maybe she'd even get other clothes to wear soon, other than her hoodie.

“That's good to know,” you say. “Still, if you're... if you're in trouble with that, I can lend you some cash. I ain't got much, but I get by fine.”

“That's fine, North,” Sonata says, rolling around to her stomach. Her eyes stare straight at you. “We'll manage. But thanks.”

“No problem."

For a moment, the two of you just stay there. Exchanging words is common, even for you. Laughing together is somewhat strange, but not alien either. But comfortable silence? For a long time now, you've never liked to be alone with your thoughts. They were always pessimistic at best, leaving you with nothing but bad taste in your mouth.

Your apartment, full of trash yet somehow empty, was perfect soil for such thoughts.

Yet here, you feel none of it. As you fish out a cigarette and bring it to your lips along with your zippo, you're overcome by momentary ease. Relaxation. The girl next to you is not here to judge you or accost you of anything. She's a bit mean-spirited and awfully naive, but even so, her presence lets you breathe freely.

You watch the wispy tail of smoke snake through the air like a pennant in the wind. It seeks to join the clouds far above. A breeze blows across the rooftop, carrying with it a promise of a chill. You hear some far-away chatter of students somewhere down below. But all the sounds are like from a another world.

In here exists just you two, and this quiet moment.

“Hey, North?” Sonata's soft voice carries clear into your ears.


There's momentary hesitation.

“... Why didn't you take Pinkie Pie's offer?” she asks, sounding a bit nervous. “If you were her friend, I bet the whole school'd start to like you. If you hang out with me, they'll start treating you like one of us, you know?”

One of us? Does she mean the trio of her, Adagio Dazzle and Aria Blaze? It's clear they've earned the ire of the whole school. Whenever you see them, they have dirty glares thrown their way. Typical high school behavior. Shut people you don't like out of your little community.

Before you answer, you rise to a sitting position. You're now facing the deceptive warmth of the distant sun.

“I once wanted it. Being popular, I mean,” you say as you stand up, glaring at the scenery below. “Didn't work out. Hell, lot in my life didn't work out. It's not gonna magically start now. Even if I did make new friends because I decided to take a knee before that Fairground Fairy... I wouldn't enjoy it. My 'friends' would only be such because Pinkie Pie 'tamed' me. Not because who I am.”

You glance down at Sonata.

“But you? You started to hang out with me even though nobody told you to,” you continue. “Even though I didn't exactly make the best first impression, you stuck around. And that's what counts. My past, who I am... it's not just gonna magically disappear, you know? Trying to be someone different, changing yourself to fit some imaginary mold... that's a load of crap.”

You extend your arm and spread out your hand, as if trying to catch the sun you're watching to slowly descend. Smell of nicotine tickles your nose.

“We're defined by our pasts. We are who we are because of what we experience,” you say. “Denying that is just lying to yourself. So even if Pinkie Pie was completely honest with her request... which I highly doubt... I still wouldn't have said yes. Because I know what I am.”

Sonata's eyes are quizzical now as she stares up at you.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

You take a step away from her, from the edge of the rooftop, towards the shade thrown by the large dome. You set the sun behind you, hiding from its rays. You stare at the fractured reflection on its glass-surface, and draw a deep breath. From somewhere, music echoes into your ears.

And you start to sing.

“Slave for fame. Come what may,” you start, rough voice piercing the air. “And I forgot. My dues to pay.”

You turn around, facing the sun. It's brilliance forces your face into a grimace, and you press yourself against the glass.

“Told to stay. Here to stay,” you sing.

In your mind's eye, pictures of days gone by flash before your eyes. Of hands reaching for you when you were at the top of the world, only to draw away when you finally stumbled on the homestretch.

“Wax wings burnt. By light of day,” your voice echoes on the rooftop. “Fell on my knees. Where I'm today.”

Once more, you turn your back on Sonata and the sun, caressing the smooth surface of the glass dome with your left hand.

“Told to stay. Here to stay.”

And as the music raises to the crescendo of the chorus, you begin walking, dragging your nails against the glass of the dome.

“But it's my past! Ooh!” you bellow out, staring at the clock face on top of the dome. “Know my past! Ooh! Is!”

Your heavy eyes turn towards the distance.

“Here to stay.”

As you let go of the glass, you're thrust back into your memories. Memories of people, friends or not, patting your back and praising you. But when your steps become uneasy and your vision blurs, one by one those people start to disappear.

“So here I am. Lost my way,” you sing, wrapped in those days. “Deaf and blind. All them say.”

And finally, you're all alone. Somewhere, you hear a metal clang and lock cling.

“Seen as prey. Here to stay.” You shake off those visions, taking in the scene before you. “I'm no prey.”

With strong steps you start forward, eyes glued to the sun. You slip off your fur-trimmed leather jacket. Slung over your shoulder, it flaps in the wind.

“But it's my past! Ooh! It's my past! Ooh!” You step to the edge of the roof, raising an open hand towards the sun. “Know my past! Ooh! Know my past! Is!”

You ball your hand into a fist.

“Here to stay.”

You hold your arm high, staring down the blazing ball of fire on the other side of the horizon. From how you're standing, it almost feels like your fingers are aflame. With what, you're unsure. Determination? Passion? Fervor? Whatever it is, you know it comes from your own words, your conviction regarding who you are.

And in the back of your mind, you almost feel like you're standing up to someone.

Someone your polar opposite.

Next to you, Sonata stands up from the concrete. In her eyes, you see strange glimmer of respect. Perhaps there's more to why you get along so well? Could it be that she's holding same sort of thoughts in her heart? That her reason for not changing is the same as yours?

The reason might be a mystery, but its effects are not. Sonata mimics your pose, raising her hand to the distance.

So, for one last time, you shout with all your might.

“But it's my past! Ooh! Know my past! Ooh! It's my past! Ooh!” You feel your voice growing even stronger. “Know my past! Is!”

Thus, when the music dies down, it's natural you're left with one deep rumble of power.

“Here to stay.”