Finishing my final set of push-ups, I breathe a sigh of satisfaction as I stand, enjoying the soft ache of a good workout. Starting the stretches Grandpa informed us to do before and after a session, I ignore the fatigue. It’s not nearly as bad as the soreness I’ll be feeling tomorrow and serves as an indicator of the morning’s progress. “Getting stronger every day,” I mutter, thinking of the mantra my brother and I have taken up.
In regards to physical training, we both have improved, though Blueblood more so. That’s not to say he has surpassed me as I still have him beat in endurance and speed, something I’m secretly quite proud of, but compared to that first day, the once noticeable gap between us has shrunk considerably.
Something I can’t say about his magic and my lack thereof. A doctor’s visit told us my magic has apparently increased since the last one, but I still don’t feel anything, a problem Blueblood has been trying to rectify for some time now. For all the things my brother has little patience for, training with Grandpa and trying to get me to cast a spell are not on the list, much to my dismay.
It didn’t start out as such, the beginning being filled with hope that maybe I really could do even a fraction of the amazing things he and other unicorns could, but after nothing but constant failures, the so called magical training has become a tiresome chore to be done each night before bed. Really, it mostly consists of Blueblood getting frustrated trying to put into words what it’s like to feel your magic and me getting equally frustrated trying to understand.
Apparently, I did manage a few sparks once according to him, but my eyes were screwed shut at the time so I missed it. I had to convince Blueblood not to run off and tell our parents right then and there by explaining we should wait until I can do it on command just in case they got mad about what we were doing without their permission and made us stop. He reluctantly agreed with the logic, which I was thankful for. I’d rather not give Mom and Dad false hope that their daughter wasn’t a freak after all.
Shaking my head of such thoughts, I try to re-focus on something positive. “Hey Blue, how are you doing?” I call, glancing over to the colt as he continues to buck a tree. The solid wood trembles less than his legs, but Blueblood powers on with a strained yell of, “Fine!” He doesn’t quite look fine, what with the sweat-drenched mane plastered to his forehead, but the determination shining in his eyes tells me he’ll finish the day’s workout.
Nodding, I decide to go sit at the picnic blanket and sip at a water bottle, idly watching my brother move to push-ups. Grandpa has taken to exercising as well and is running laps around the garden, though an eye is always kept on us foals while he does so in case there’s an accident.
It’s a token gesture at this point as we’ve been training like this every other morning for over a year now, the last eleven of which have been incident free. I learned the hard way that jumping jacks are not a pony-friendly exercise when I twisted an ankle and was asked if I had been trying to fly. The embarrassment hurt almost as bad as the injury.
“Taking it easy, I hope,” Dad says as he enters the garden, looking over to his son with nostalgia and a bit of pity. “Don’t want the children limping on their first day of school.”
I do a good job of keeping my face impassive, though I do feel my left ear give a traitorous flick at the mention of school. I’m not worried about the academic part of things, but the whole idea of going to school is just so foreign to me after having spent the bulk of my last life never going. There were a few years in the beginning that I know I went, but those memories were fuzzy even before I found myself in this new world.
Blueblood doesn’t share the same worry however as he jumps up from his last pushup with a grin on his face. “Two more days! Two more days!” he chants prancing in place.
“That’s right,” Grandpa says, coming to stop. “We’ll be taking the rest of the weekend off, plenty of time to recover. They’ll be right as rain by Monday.”
Chuckling at his son’s antics, the elder Blueblood looks my way with a small frown. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
I mentally smack myself before plastering on a smile. “I’m okay, Daddy! I was just wondering what the first day of school was going to be like.”
“We’re gonna be the best ponies there and will be super popular,” little Blueblood chimes confidently. “With all the training and studying we do, how could we not be?”
Dad chuckles again. “I’m sure you will be, but not if you can’t stay on your hooves when you get there. How about you end the training session short for the day and we head inside for a snack?” Looking at me, he continues, “Your mother wants Pure to try on some more outfits, anyway. Wait much longer to see her and she’ll have the whole closet laid out across the bed.”
The smile falters some. “Great… Sounds like fun.” It really didn’t. I’ve been put in a few dresses now and then, even a particularly complex number for my second birthday, and while most weren’t as hot and itchy as that one, I admit that I’ve grown quite accustomed to bare fur. It’s definitely not something I’d have thought I could grow used to in my previous life, but clothing is just sort of uncomfortable now.
“They were finished up anyway,” Grandpa said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “A snack sounds like a good idea. We still have any of that chocolate pudding from last night?”
With my brother running inside with a cheer for pudding, the older stallions right behind him, I follow with a sigh and let the smile drop. As school and dresses flood my mind with unease, I try to drown it out with thoughts of dessert instead. Cutting Board makes a mean cocoa mousse, after all. It would cheer me up, I’m sure.
Ornate Garden was going through the closet, putting away three dresses while searching for a new one. “Hmm, what would you like to try next, Pureblood, the cornflower blue one or that pink one we picked up the other day?”
Moaning in response, Pure answered, “Neither, we’ve already tried on six dresses, can’t I just go to school without one? I want to get back to the mousse.”
Ornate rolled her eyes. “You’ve already had three bowls; I think that’s more than enough sweets before dinner.” Really, she was beginning to think her daughter only began training every morning as an excuse to eat more. Combined with a foal’s metabolism, Pure could scarf down an entire tray of cookies without gaining an ounce. Ornate was a little envious, if she were being honest with herself.
“Besides, it’s important to look your best on the first day of school; first impressions are very important, after all.” Pure opted to turn away with a frown instead of arguing, something her mother was thankful for as she pulled out the pink dress. It went well with her eyes, but she’d still have to see if the contrasting effect of the blue dress was more striking.
As she fitted the frilly wear onto her silent daughter, Ornate began to wonder. “Are you alright, sweetie?”
“I’m okay,” was the plain response, voice distant. The filly was so distracted that she hardly worked with her mother to get into the clothes, leaving Ornate to dress her daughter as if she were a doll.
“… Are you nervous about school?” Ornate guessed, knowing she was right when the filly flinched.
“N-no, I’m excited for school, it’s going to be fun and Blueblood will be there with me, so what’s there to be scared of? It’s gonna be Blueblood and me, and a bunch of foals I don’t know a-and teachers who are strangers and-”
“It’s okay to be a little scared, Sweetie, it’s natural,” Ornate interrupted, getting her daughter to look up at her with surprise. “I was nervous my first day too, you know?”
“Really?”
“Oh yes,” she answered with a chuckle, remembering the shivering mess she was as she stood at the door of her foalhood home, and the advice her father gave her. “I didn’t want to go either, but then your Grandpa Rouser told me something that helped a lot. He told me it was okay to be afraid as long as I put on a brave face. That if I pretended not to be scared, I’d eventually believe it myself.” It was an odd thing to tell a child thinking back, but coming from a family of actors, it made perfect sense. “It was the trick he used to use to deal with his stage fright, but it works for first day jitters too.”
Pure gave a small smile, but didn’t say anything as Ornate fixed a pink bow in her mane. After waiting a minute for a response, the older mare frowned. “Pure… You can tell me if you’re worried about something. I’m your mother after all, I’ll always be here for you no matter what.”
She was just about to give up and begin the arduous process of undressing the foal when Pure whispered, “… Can I be homeschooled?”
“Wha-?” Ornate began, blinking a few times in surprise before recovering. “What brought this on? I thought with how much you love learning, you wouldn’t be able to wait to start going to school, even if you were a little nervous.”
“But I don’t need to be in school to learn, you teach me plenty already. And I can go to the library whenever I want if I want to get new books to study. I can learn all I need right here.”
“I’m not a teacher, sweetie, I don’t know the best way to teach a little filly.”
“But you do a good job,” she argued.
“But they’ll do a better job at school,” countered Ornate with a soft smile. “You’ll learn so much there, and not just stuff like reading and writing, but you’ll learn how to make friends and have all sorts of fun.”
Drooping, the filly mumbles, “But that’s why I’m afraid.” Looking up into her mother’s questioning eyes, she sighed. “What if nopony likes me there? I’m different, I don’t know how normal foals act.”
The pink mare frowned slightly, remembering how some of the staff reacted to her bright little filly when she was first brought home. “That may be true…” Ornate finally began, choosing her words carefully. “You are different, but that isn’t bad. You’re special, Pure, so smart and kind that I’m sure you’ll be able to make friends in no time.”
“But-”
“No buts, you are special in the best of ways.” Cupping the filly’s cheek, Ornate held her daughter’s worries gaze. “Just try it, sweetie, just for a few weeks and you’ll see how great school can be.”
“… And if I don’t like it?”
“If you truly don’t like it after that, then we can try homeschooling, I’ll even hire a proper teacher, but not until you’ve at least tried to go to school.”
Pure was silent for a few seconds before nodding her head. “Okay, I’ll try.”
“That’s my brave little filly,” Ornate said, leaning down to nuzzle her daughter. “You’ll see, you’re going to have so much fun and make such great friends that you’ll look back on this and think it was just silly. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be alone, Blueblood will be right there next to you.”
A small smile coming to her lips, Pure nodded again. “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sure I’m just being silly.” Looking down at herself, she frowned. “Um, Mom, don’t you think this is a little too pink?”
Stunned a moment, Ornate giggled. “I suppose it is, perhaps it’s time to try the blue one?”
“Yeah… I think I’d like that.”
“I don’t like this,” I whisper from behind my Mom’s leg, staring up at the single story building and doing my best to hide from the swarm of foals and parents funneling into it. My brother, much like many of the other children, is brimming with an excitement I wish I could share as he bounces on Dad’s back, getting slight winces from the stallion. “It’s too loud.”
“Remember what we talked about, Pure, just give it a try,” Mom whispers into my ear before she giving me a quick nuzzle. “It’ll be much better once we get inside and everypony is settled.”
I give a small smile and nod, though it falters some when Bluey jumps from his perch to land next to me. “This is gonna be great, right, Pure?” he exclaims, gesturing around us. “Look at all the other foals! You think they like pulling pranks too?”
“Son, we talked about this,” Dad says, giving the colt a stern look that is mostly shrugged off. “I don’t want to be getting called in because you’re tormenting your teacher. Do you understand?”
“Sure, sure,” is the flippant response before Bluey grabs my hoof and starts tugging me forward. “Come on, let’s get inside!”
I squeak as I'm forced to take a step out from the concealing legs of my mother, but put up little resistance. A promise is a promise, so I look up at the smiling sun painted on the side of the building and try to calm my nerves. The image isn’t helping as much as I think it’s supposed to. Since when have smiley faces and rainbows been ominous?