//------------------------------// // Sunny Flare clears the air—and her conscience // Story: Lectern’s New and Used Books: Summer Break // by Dave Bryant //------------------------------// Lectern’s New and Used Books made a policy of employing students, both high-school and university. Students often were willing—and frequently preferred—to accept part-time hours, which serendipitously spared Lectern’s the added expense of full-time benefits. Lectern did his best to schedule his employees around classes, and generally was a fairly understanding boss, though youngsters who abused that trust received short shrift. On the other hand, those who demonstrated ability and integrity were well-rewarded for their efforts, as Sunny Flare explained to her surprised audience seated in one of the conversation groups gracing the converted bungalow’s front room. “I asked Mister Lectern to let me cut my shift short so I could talk to you.” The Crystal Prep student grimaced. “He asked for a good reason. I told him we go to different schools, so our paths don’t cross much, and I didn’t know when I might get another chance. I’m not sure he believed me about the last thing, but he said I’d earned a little consideration, so, well, here I am.” “Don’t that beat all,” Applejack said for all the girls looking up at her. “Well, if you’re gonna talk, have a seat!” Pinkie Pie bounced to her feet from the end wing chair by the fireplace and waved both hands at it. “Uh—are you sure?” Sunny’s expression of mixed reluctance and relief would have been funny if she weren’t so earnest. “Yepperoonie! I’ll just sit on the rug!” Suiting action to words, Pinkie plunked down on the patterned area rug and wrapped her arms around her raised knees. Sunny edged past her to the vacant chair and sat gingerly before facing seven attentive fellow teens. She cleared her throat, but paused, clearly at a loss how to go on. Sunset Shimmer leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Sunny, if you’re here to say you’re sorry, don’t worry about it. All of you apologized right after everything happened at the Friendship Games, remember?” “Well, yeah.” Sunny sighed. “And we meant it. But . . . I’ve been thinking about it a lot since then. I think at least some of the others have been too, but I shouldn’t speak for them.” “So what’s on your mind, sugar cube?” Applejack’s voice was nothing but encouraging. “Take your time, darling,” Rarity added. “If you’ve had a lot of thoughts, I’m sure you’ll need more than a moment to share them all.” The others murmured their own assurances, and Sunny shook her head in bemused wonder. “How do you all do that? I can’t imagine anyone at Crystal Prep being so . . . so . . .” “Forgiving?” Fluttershy suggested gently. “Willing to let the past go?” “. . . That’ll do.” “Corny as it sounds, that’s the magic of friendship, Sunny.” Twilight Sparkle smiled crookedly, fully aware how trite her comment sounded. “Even Mister Lectern seems to understand it pretty well. That’s why he let you go, I’ll bet.” Rainbow Dash nodded as if a thought had been sparked. “He figured out you had something you needed to get off your chest, and you needed to do it now, before you lost the chance or lost—um—” “Lost the nerve.” Sunny barked a brief laugh, as surprised by it as anyone else. “All right. I’ll do my best.” Everyone waited patiently as their visitor got her thoughts in order. “First off, I guess I really should apologize again, even if it’s just to get things started. It’s one thing to say ‘I’m sorry things worked out so badly’ right after they happen.” Sunny looked straight at Twilight, eyes and lips tight. “It’s another thing to say ‘I’m sorry about everything people did to make them work out badly’, after you’ve had a chance to look back on how it all went down the drain—and how much you helped it do that.” Twilight looked back, nervous but fortified by her friends’ support. “You did a lot to ‘help it do that.’ You and the others. Almost everyone at Crystal Prep.” Her voice was quiet and clinical, but firm. Sunny’s jaw clenched, but she nodded. “I see that now. And I can see now why it made you a monster, even if it was only for a little while.” Her eyes flicked up to glance at the counter behind which Lectern stood, helping another early-evening customer. “Does—” “No,” Sunset answered the unspoken question. “We told him about meeting Twilight, but we didn’t tell him about the magic or anything that happened because of it. He knows there has to be more to the story, but he hasn’t pried, and I don’t think he will.” “He won’t,” Twilight asserted with the certainty of a prophet. “I’ve been coming to the store for years, and I’ve never known him to get nosy.” She grinned suddenly and briefly. “I’m sure he’d love to know, and he might even believe us, but he won’t ask.” “I guess I’m not as noble, because I’m dying of curiosity about wherever it was those . . . holes, or whatever they were, went to,” Sunny said dryly. “We were all a little too busy for sightseeing, but what I do remember looked like a pretty strange place.” Sunset regarded her for a long moment. “I’ll tell you what, Sunny: After you’re finished, if I think you’ve earned it, I’ll explain all about it—as much as I can, at least.” She got a searching look in return. “Why you? Why not Twilight?” Sunset sat back, crossed her legs, and folded her arms. “Because she’s not from there—but I am.” Sunny’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened in a comical expression none of the others ever expected to see on her face. To their credit, nobody laughed. Of course, everyone else being almost as flabbergasted by Sunset’s offer, if for different reasons, probably helped. To a lesser extent, so did the fact Sunny really did seem to be working through a crisis of conscience and, by extension, her classmates were as well. After a confused minute or so of mingled protests, Sunset slapped her palms on the arms of her chair. “Enough, girls!” she said in a low but stern voice. “It’s my decision, and it’s not like they don’t already know there’s something weird going on. I could argue it’s better to give Sunny the whole story rather than let them all guess and gossip about it.” Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, then closed it again after looking around at the general agreement she saw on other faces. None of those faces looked happy about it, but the consensus was clear, so she let out a breath and sat back. “Fine.” Sunset flashed them all, especially Dash, a smile of sincere gratitude, then turned back to a still-stunned Sunny. “Now. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, tell us. It sounds like something we need to hear, and you need to say.” Once again steeling herself, Sunny turned back to Twilight. After a moment’s indecision, words started pouring out of her in a low, intense undervoice. “We made your life miserable at Crystal Prep because we all blew you off as a weird, spineless little nerd. But—seeing you up there in mid-air . . . it was horrible. At first I could see you were just as afraid as we were of what was happening, and then that glowing ball just swallowed you up. And when it went away, you looked like some kind of demon, and you started blowing holes in things, including the world. “I didn’t realize it then, but when I had a chance to think about it later, about why you were acting the way you did, I figured out it wasn’t just because you wanted to know how that—that magic worked, it was because you were angry. Mad at everyone and everything for the way they treated you, and you were going to show everyone. If blowing everything up would hurt the people who hurt you, so much the better. Right?” Twilight’s mouth trembled and tears fell freely from her eyes. “Yes,” she got out in a strangled whisper. “I was mad—in every sense of the word. Not just angry but insane. I hated everyone and I wanted to know everything and . . .” She buried her face in her hands and let out a sob. The other girls, even Sunny, stirred uneasily, but Sunset held up a hand. She got up and knelt beside Twilight, rubbing the distraught girl’s back gently. “Twi, listen to me—well, all of you, really. Magic is power. Raw, unrestrained power. If you’re not used to it, if you’ve never dealt with it before, it’s overwhelming. It’ll twist your mind—exactly the way too much political power or too many drugs or too much of anything that affects the brain will drive you insane. That can happen even if you are used to magic, but suddenly get a whole bunch more than you normally have.” She thought for a moment. “Even in this world, I’ve read legends and myths about what happens to people who get hold of some powerful magical artifact. I can tell you those stories are right on the money. It’s one of the reasons I’ve wondered—never mind.” She took a breath. “What’s important right now is that you, Twilight Sparkle, invented one of those powerful magical artifacts. And it did what powerful magical artifacts usually do.” Lectern’s concerned voice sounded from across the room. “Are you girls all right over there?” Clearing her throat, Sunset looked up. “Yes sir, we’ll be all right. I guess Sunny told you she had something important to talk about? It’s, well, it’s pretty intense, but we’re working through it.” “Ah. Well. Would you prefer to, hm, move out to the back patio? It’s more private.” Twilight straighted up and rubbed her eyes. Without looking back, she called, “Th-that’s okay, Mister Lectern. It just was kind of a shock, that’s all. We’ll be quieter after this, I promise.” She added sotto voce to the group around her, “I bet he’s worried about customers being upset by crying girls in his store.” The flash of wry humor brought strained smiles to the others and eased the mood. “I’m sure he’s genuinely worried, too, darling,” Rarity noted, her voice equally full of concern. Twilight nodded and sniffled. “And we shouldn’t be rude guests.” She looked up at Sunny again, eyes watery but level. “That’s just how I felt. And I should apologize too. Sunset was right when she accused me of messing with things I didn’t understand.” Sunset, returning to her seat, clutched at her hair. “I still shouldn’t have snapped at you, though. I’m sure that didn’t help, and I’ve been trying to get a handle on my temper,” she finished through clenched teeth. Applejack folded her arms. “Mebbe there’s somethin’ else, Twi. I talked to Dean Cadance when she was arrangin’ the transfer, an’ she told me about that little lab you had in the closet at Crystal Prep. How often did ya scurry into it an’ close the door rather than try to talk with other students?” “Wow, AJ,” Sunset muttered as she lowered herself back into her chair. “Talk about the element of brutal honesty.” If there still was a note of tension in the laughter that followed, it was balanced by relief. Twilight sighed and nodded. “I didn’t do a lot to meet people half-way, it’s true, and I’m sorry I didn’t try harder. But it’s . . . difficult when every single time you do try, it goes badly. After a while, I decided not to any more.” “Positive feedback,” Sunny agreed. “I guess I can’t blame you for deciding not to throw good money after bad, Twilight, but that just means everyone’s got some part in it.” “Including Principal Cinch,” Dash put in darkly. “It was pretty obvious she knew even less about what was going on with the magic than Sci-Twi did. And then she had the nerve to bully Twilight into doing something really dumb, and to bully you guys into helping her do it.” Shock rendered Sunny mute for a moment. “Bully . . . us? I—” Her eyes were huge as she continued, “I never thought of it that way before. That’s just what she did, isn’t it?” “It’s great to be loyal to your school,” Dash stated with absolute certainty. “But not when it gets in the way of doing the right thing. Ms. Cinch knew all of you were willing to do just about anything to win, so she pushed you to help bulldoze Twilight.” “Mob psychology,” Twilight burst out. She clapped a hand over her mouth and looked over her shoulder at the rest of the store, but only a couple of mildly curious glances met hers, so she smiled sheepishly and turned back. “She was yer principal.” Applejack shrugged. “She’s an adult, she was in charge, an’ I’m guessin’ she was the one who’s been gettin’ the whole school behind the notion of beatin’ everyone and everything around.” Fluttershy nodded. “Of course you followed her. Why wouldn’t you? She’s, well, she’s an authority figure.” Everyone stared blankly at her; she blinked and shrank bashfully. “What?” Sunny put a palm to her face. “No wonder we were so pi—torqued off at her.” She scrubbed at her face with both hands for a moment, then lowered them. “It’s like getting scammed. The first person you’re mad at is yourself, because you fell for it, and that makes you twice as mad at the scammer.” She quirked a slightly malicious smile. “I think Ms. Cinch learned a lesson too, even if it isn’t the same one the rest of us got.” “That Twilight’s actually pretty awesome when she isn’t being really scary?” Pinkie suggested ingenuously. This time the hilarity was uninhibited, the more so for Pinkie’s blindsiding of everyone—Twilight most of all. It was impossible to take offense at Pinkie’s innocent gusto, especially when it was nothing more than the simple truth. In deference to poor Lectern’s abused hospitality, the girls tried to choke down their slightly hysterical laughter after a few moments, but it took a minute or more for the giggles to die away. “Ahem. Awesome and scary,” Rarity mused when she’d mastered her voice again. “Indeed you were, Twilight. In fact, in a dark way, you were quite beautiful. Could it be a tiny kernel of vanity is hidden away in the heart of our little bookworm?” Her tone was teasing, but warm and sympathetic. She spared a wink and a smile for Sunset, who had shone with a beauty of her own, but the moment was Twilight’s and both of them knew it. Twilight blushed hotly and her hands flew up to cover the traffic-signal brightness. She stared mutely at Rarity, then at the rest of them as grins blossomed in the face of her discomfiture; even Fluttershy and Sunny managed small smiles of delight. Finally she gave up and giggled once more, hands over her mouth as she rocked back and forth. The storm had passed, and eight girls sat companionably together, exchanging a last few apologies, observations, and comments. Lectern had put in a direct appearance, making sure everything was all right and displaying the faintest signs of frayed composure. Everyone took pains to assure him the crisis was resolved and there would be no further dramatics. He departed, not without a glance or two over his shoulder, and they waved—most of them cheerfully, but Sunny with a hint of disquiet. “Ah’m sure everything’ll be fine, Sunny,” Applejack reassured her. “He’s just a little rattled. It’ll pass.” “I hope so. This is a pretty good job, and I’d hate to lose it—but if I have to, I should make sure it’s worthwhile.” She eyed Sunset with appraisal and strove for a brisk tone. “So do I make the grade?” Sunset smiled, just a little, and replied, “In spades.” She sat up, drew in a deep breath, and into the dead silence of her spellbound audience, began, “Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria . . .”