The Silver Standard

by PatchworkPoltergeist


A Young Lady's Book of Gratitudes

A lady—a young lady, especially—must understand and appreciate the significance of Gratitude. Indeed, in the hierarchy of virtues one should possess, Gratitude ranks second-highest. Only Kindness ranks above it.

Yes, ladies ought to mind their manners. It is essential to know when and when not to speak, how to lay their napkins, and arrange the silverware. One must understand the proper way to carry a tail, hold a polite conversation, court a suitor, offer and receive an apology, defend one’s honor, and engage in social combat. All these things and more will be expanded on in the subsequent sections of this Codex.

However, young ladies MUST note: None of what is listed above can function without the virtue of Gratitude.

A high society pony indulges in a life of comforts. Thus, parents, teachers, and foals must remember: appreciation and accustomization to finer things can—and WILL—descend into spoilage, entitlement, and egotism if one is not cautious. A spoiled, entitled pony perceives themselves to be above the need to follow social protocol and soon forgets how fortunate they are to possess the life they have, and that such a fortunate life is not a guarantee.

Thus: the bearing rein of Gratitude lifts a lady’s head to proper height: not too low, but not too high.

Kindly note: we speak here of Gratitude, not Humility.

Humility and Gratitude share the same taxonomy and genus, but are entirely different species. A laymare may mistake Humility and Gratitude to be the same thing, but proper ladies know that anypony of any class can be humble—as well they ought to be—the state of Humility requires no intention or foreknowledge.

In other words, one possesses Humility. One PRACTICES Gratitude.

Ladies, kindly recall how often Gratitude plays a part in our daily interactions:

“I am so happy to be here.”

“We are delighted you could come.”

It is an action, my little ponies. Not a state of being.

Father knocked on the open door as he entered Silver’s room. “Are you nearly ready, Brightness?”

“Oh! Yes, sir, almost.” A draft ruffled the open pages of Madam Wisteria’s introduction to the Official Academy Codex. Silver Spoon marked her place and set the book back on the bed. “May I do one more thing before we go? It’s important.”

“Very well, but don’t dawdle.” Father checked his pocket watch. “Your mother won’t approve being late.”

“I won’t.” After a short pause, Silver added, “Thank you, Father.”

“No trouble, Silver Spoon.”

To be grateful meant an appraisal and acknowledgment of one’s blessings and one’s luck. Not everypony in Equestria knew good fortune. Now, more than ever, Miss Sterling Silver Spoon understood that she’d been blessed as a fortunate filly, even if she did not always feel so.

The wind creaked and moaned against the wooden planks nailed over Silver’s shattered bedroom window, rustling the lace curtains. Pinstripes of sunlight filtered between the boards, hardly enough to see by. The sun couldn’t wake her anymore, and Silver’s sense of time bent at an awkward angle now.

Withholding a sigh, Silver Spoon rearranged the curtains so they wouldn’t catch on the planks or tear on a nail. Be glad it was only a window. You could have lost an entire wall, or the roof. Glass can be replaced.

She switched the lamp on, angling the shade toward the fish tank to focus the light. “Can we get another lamp in here? It doesn’t feel bright enough; he’ll know it’s not daylight.”

Father glanced up from cleaning his monocle. “I think one’s alright for now, but are you sure it’s necessary?” He gestured his cleaning cloth toward the tank’s miniature jungle of aquatic plants. “I thought betta fish lived in rice paddies with plenty of shade. Besides, the lamp gives off light, not heat.”

“Yes, but they still give off a little. That might help in case… in case something happens.” Silver Spoon checked the tank thermometer a fourth time. Still a balmy eighty-one degrees. Good.

She angled the get well card so Ferdinand could see it. A seapony doll leaned against the glass, in case he felt lonely. “We’ll be back soon, okay, Ferdinand?”

Ferdinand’s tail fins drooped over the castle spires. He lay in his hammock near the water’s surface, still asleep. The lamp’s light reflected against his dull blue scales. A patch of uneaten food flakes drifted above his head. If he didn’t eat it soon, the water would get dirty and Ferdinand might get sicker.

Silver considered changing the water when they returned, but that ran the risk of stressing the poor betta even more. Besides, she needed Brass Tacks for that.

Echoes of a Colt Rain record drifted down the hall from the dim room where the Silvers’ butler rested. Mother, Father, and Doctor Stable had all insisted—and it had required a great deal of insistence—that Brass Tacks take two weeks off to recover from his concussion.

Performing one of the strongest spells in his arsenal after thirty hours without sleep would put down the best of unicorns, and he’d done it twice. The intense expulsion, drainage, and return of magic—to say nothing of the journey to and from the Rich house—disagreed with Tacks greatly.

The soft frog of Silver’s hoof pressed against the warm fish tank. “I should have stayed home.”

It wouldn’t have happened if she’d stayed home. A lot of things wouldn’t have happened.

If they’d stayed, Silver Spoon and Brass Tacks would have been home to board the windows ahead of time, like Pinkie told them to. If the windows had been boarded, the bedroom window wouldn’t have broken, or if it had, somepony would have been home to turn Ferdinand’s heater on.

Silver checked the temperature again. Still eighty-one degrees. It did little to shoo away the image of coming home to sixty-two. The image of Ferdinand—a perfect gentlefish who knew tricks and came when called and never hurt anybody—lingering in the chilly water for hours. Hours.

“Brightness, you can’t continue fretting this way.” Father wrapped a foreleg around Silver Spoon’s shoulders and guided her out of the room. “What’s passed has passed. You can’t change that, can you?”

“No, sir.” Not unless she got somepony to pull some strings and cast a time travel spell.

Father adjusted his collar and smoothed his gold cravat in a hallway mirror. “Is there anything else you can do for your fish that you haven’t already done?”

“I don’t think so. Fluttershy and the vet told me to warm the water slowly and not stress him out. I did that part.” They stopped at the door with the Colt Rain music. Silver Spoon cracked the door open to wish Brass Tacks goodbye, but he’d fallen asleep on the chaise lounge. She whispered it instead.

Closing the door shut, Silver added, “And though Ferdinand’s sick, at least he’s still here. We found him in time.”

Indeed, Ferdinand was still alive. So were Mother and Father. Brass Tacks might have gotten hurt, but he’d be alright soon. Of all the Silver Clan, only Cousin Silver Lining had sustained serious damage—a broken wing from an attempted attack on Tirek, and a broken leg from the tailspin afterwards—but Mother said he’d be out of the hospital in three weeks. As far as Silver knew, nopony in town had been badly hurt. Scathed, rattled, and possibly swamped with repair bills, but still alive and here.

“I guess I’m happy things worked out the way they did,” said Silver Spoon. “It could have been worse.” In the foyer window, the charred gnarl of what used to be the library twisted over Town Hall. Much worse. Silver flattened her ears and looked away.

Mother tapped her hoof, her lips and patience thin. “There you are. Stars’ sake, Laurel, did you two stop for brunch or something?” She kissed Father’s cheek and adjusted Silver Spoon’s pearls. “Come on, I won’t have everypony gossiping that we left a princess waiting. Silver Spoon, you put your book in already, right?”

Silver double-checked the saddlebag waiting beside the door. Her own library copy of Letters, Notes, & Memoirs Of The Conemara Ice Cream War: Vol. II wedged between Mother’s The Unicornian in Captivity and Bow Tie In Blinders. “Yes, ma’am, but do you really think she’ll want mine back? It’s the middle book of the set, and the rest of it…” Blown halfway to the Crystal Empire, probably.

“It’s the gesture that counts, dear.”

After nearly two full days indoors, the cloudless day struck Silver square in the face. The rolling scent of browning leaves, early rainfall, and harvest pumpkins had washed away the ash and smoke. The songs of birds and ponies alike threaded through the streets, jubilant and alive, almost as if the past week never happened at all.

Before Silver Spoon’s eyes could adjust to the blinding sunlight, she felt herself being hoisted up and over Father’s back. They sped for the castle at a lively trot, much faster than Silver expected. The last time she’d seen Father trot, he’d had to catch the museum director and even that was half this pace. “If we’re late, I can still keep up with you. I don’t mind running, Father.”

“Why, what a fascinating coincidence!” He laughed, jumping into a canter. “I don’t mind carrying you.” Father glanced back to Mother with a wink. “Fancy you can match our pace, Pitch?”

Mother caught him at the shoulder. “Now, Laurel, you must be reasonable. You’re a doughy forty-seven-year-old Canterlotter carrying an entire pony on his back.”

“Are you implying I’m old?” Father nickered under his breath at Mother’s smirk. “Need I remind you, my dear Pitch Perfect, that you are three years my elder?”

“True,” said Mother, “but I’m also a native Manehattanite.” She kissed him quick on the cheek and reared with a toss of her head. “My darling, I warmly invite you to eat my dust. Ha!” She broke from them, tearing down the path.

Silver Spoon’s braid whipped in the air and she wrapped her forelegs tight around Father’s neck. Mother’s scarf streamed inches from her nose; he’d already closed the distance. “Father?” she called over the wind. “Are you sure this is alright?” It seemed like a good way to arrive sweaty and out of breath.

“Come now, Brightness, it’s only a short run to the castle. Why, look around you.” Father nodded in the direction of Mr. Davenport, who moved just ahead of them at Father’s speed while carting a weighty bookcase. “We’re earth ponies, Silver Spoon. We were built for this!”

As they drew closer to the castle, Silver realized Mother and Father weren’t the only ponies taking advantage of their tribe’s special traits. Minuette juggled library books with her magic for no discernable reason other than she could. The Cake twins cheered as their parents sped them down a hill. White Lightning and Cotton Cloudy loop-de-looped around Blossomforth, Thunderlane, and Rumble in some sort of impromptu air ballet.

Silver Spoon stretched her neck toward the crowd gathered around the crystal castle tree. Come to think of it, she couldn’t find any pegasi—not counting Scootaloo—with all four hooves on the ground.

Mother and Father slowed to a trot, then a walk as the crowd thickened around them. Silver waved to The Dink and Berry Pinch, who played levitation catch with Snips and Snails on the sidelines. They’d arrived too late for a place up front, but standing on Father’s withers, Silver still had a great view of Princess Twilight.

Towards the front of the crowd, light glinted off a little spike of steel and diamonds. A red hair bow bobbed past it. Squinting, Silver Spoon wobbled on her hind legs to see.

Diamond Tiara stood a few ponies away from Apple Bloom and her fellow Crusaders. Silver couldn’t tell if they ignored each other, hadn’t noticed the other party yet, or simply had better things to occupy their attention.

Scootaloo caught Diamond’s eye for a fraction of a second. The fillies looked at each other and turned back to the castle.

Looks like the truce is holding. Silver smiled a little. That’s good, at least.

The crowd’s separate conversations tapered off from each other. A great cheer rose into the air as Princess Twilight Sparkle approached the podium to give a speech Silver barely heard.

If Silver Spoon stretched her neck, she could spot Diamond’s expression: smiling, though not too occupied by the speech itself. She held the smile of a filly attending a wine tasting or tagging along on an errand trip. Glad to be out of the house, but gladder to finally go somewhere else.

Diamond Tiara had never been a dedicated library patron; any book she wanted she bought, or else had Silver borrow a book on her behalf. A reopening/dedication/book memorial wouldn’t remotely interest her, which probably meant…

Silver scanned the crowd again. Yep.

Spoiled and Filthy Rich stood together a few feet away. Mr. Rich carried a small stack of shiny new encyclopedias with him. They’d come to donate, not return.

Diamond Tiara began to fidget as though she’d gotten a tick in her coat. Seconds before the rainbow sprang triumphant through the sky, all pastels and twinkles with a promise of better days, the magic of friendship, and the glory of love, Diamond turned around.

Under the rainbow of harmony and friendship, the fillies met eyes.

Silver Spoon waved over Father’s hat.

Diamond slowly blinked at her. She turned back around.

Twilight Sparkle approached the end of her speech. “…and new beginnings. So everypony, please join me in celebrating the grand reopening of the Ponyville Library!”

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Silver’s hooves clacked together and joined it. Her smile didn’t waver.

Today’s for celebration. Here I am, celebrating. Silver applauded harder, happy for the opportunity and fortunate to attend.

Fortunate, also, to have a friend like Diamond Tiara to protect her. Silver reminded herself to thank her friend later. Perhaps it would have been better to stay at home in the first place, but Silver counted herself fortunate to find shelter where she did, despite some… discomfort within said shelter.

She’d escaped the ordeal intact, and never knew the trauma of her internal magic being siphoned out of her. Not everypony could say the same.

Aside from a spare anecdote about the traffic, Mother and Father never spoke of their ordeal in Canterlot. Silver Spoon didn’t dare ask them. She didn’t have to. They both seemed alright now. Except for sometimes.

Sometimes, Silver Spoon found Father sitting in the drawing room, looking into the flames in the fireplace. One of those times—early yesterday morning, to be exact—Mother joined him. She’d taken Father’s hoof in hers and they’d stayed that way until breakfast time, hooves clasped and not saying anything. That afternoon, they’d planted snowdrops in the front yard, and seeds of lungwort in the back garden. Silver couldn’t recall Father planting a thing in his life, but he’d grown a bouquet’s worth of lungwort before the end of the day.

The corners of Silver's mouth dipped into a frown. That wouldn’t do at all. She propped the smile back into position. What right did she have not to smile? Everypony here was smiling, and most of them had endured far worse than Silver had. Besides, how else would Princess Twilight know how grateful she was for saving all of them?

“Hey, Silver. Did you finish those charts yet?” Diamond Tiara stared up at her from the ground.

“What?” Silver glanced at the thinning crowd. Her parents had shifted into the single-file line of library patrons leading to the castle doors. Gently, she signaled Father to let her down.

“Oh, I… yes. Mostly.” All four hooves back on solid ground, Silver got a front-row view of Diamond’s souring frown. “I mapped out the school’s student population by clique and rank, and gathered the numbers. Class doesn’t start again until tomorrow, though, so I can’t finish the—”

Diamond glared. “You said you’d take care of the data stuff, Silver Spoon, but if you don’t think you can handle it, I’ll find somepony who can.”

“I can handle it, but I need more time for the numbers to be accurate. At least until tomorrow afternoon.”

“We’re meeting tomorrow morning, though. I need it then.”

“I know, but all the info I’ve got right now won’t…” She was only digging herself deeper. Silver sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”

An educated guess of the potential polls would have to do. Even without knowing for sure who currently ran for class president, she could always run with the popularity scale as she knew it from last month and guesstimate. Maybe catch up with some of the foals who came to the library reopening. Yes, that could work.

“Do you want to come back with us after this is over? I’ll show you what I have so far.”

Diamond shrugged. “I’ll see it when it’s finished. Me and my parents saw the princess already, so we’re going home.”

“Well, we could still do something else.” Out of the corner of Silver’s eye, Mother turned a gold-studded ear in their direction. She didn’t seem happy. “I think the movie theater opened again; we could see something.”

“Time is money, Silver.” Diamond turned away with a flick of her tail. “I’ve got stuff to handle, and you have a chart to finish. Maybe later.”

“Oh, okay.” Silver pulled her book from the saddlebag so she could give it to Princess Twilight personally. The gesture would mean more that way. “So, a movie later this week, maybe?” When she looked up from the bag, Diamond Tiara had already slipped back into the crowd.

“Silver Spoon.” Mother regarded her with modest concern, but her face betrayed nothing. She held herself with the stately composure that had sailed their family through the storm of financial crisis. A mare who knew the omens of a hurricane on sight. “We’re nearly at the front of the line, my darling,” she said. “Don’t slouch.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Whatever had gone through Mother’s mind just now—something either inappropriate for current company or too detailed for immediate discussion—they would revisit somehow at a later date. Silver Spoon would bet money on it.

The last pony ahead of them, Miss Rainbowshine, returned her book and flew off without staying to make conversation.

Father bowed while Mother approached and offered her borrowed books. “Good afternoon, Princess Twilight Sparkle. I hope you don’t mind they’re a few days overdue.”

“Good afternoon! And that’s alright, Silver Laurel.” Princess Twilight shrugged with a polite chuckle. “We didn’t exactly have a book return.” The pages fluttered as the princess magically flipped through them, smiling at the return stamps on the back. “It certainly looks like you enjoyed it.” She turned the books over to Rarity to sort. For some reason, Rarity flushed.

“We did,” Father said. He side-eyed Mother with a smirk. “Immensely.”

Mother blinked impassively and ignored him.

I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just a couple of history books. Silver Spoon glanced at Rarity’s valiant effort not to crack a smile while sorting The Unicornian in Captivity. Adults were weird, sometimes. She shrugged and offered her own book.

“The epistolaries from the Ice Cream Wars, I forgot we loaned this out!” Princess Twilight hugged the tome to her chest like an old friend. “Thank you so much, Silver Spoon. I hope it helped you with your paper.”

“It did, Princess, thank you.” Silver peered at the stack of books Rarity sorted. Behind her, Spike assisted with shelving them on the book trolley. Despite the large crowd, they’d only collected about sixty books. A far cry from the original eighteen thousand or so. “I’m only sorry now that I didn’t borrow all three volumes.”

“I’m just glad you managed to save even part of it. It’s a rare volume.” Twilight skimmed one of the early sections—the part containing Smart Cookie’s early letters to a town mayor, if Silver wasn’t mistaken. The princess seemed tempted to reread the whole thing then and there.

Behind her, Father discussed the castle architecture with Mother, indicating the tall roof and a large table at the back of the room. Neither of them paid attention to Silver Spoon, much less her topics of discussion.

Now or never. Clearing her throat, Silver stepped closer to wave the princess down. “Excuse me, Princess Twilight? I’m sorry if this is a bad time to ask…” She glanced at the patch of grass where Diamond stood a few moments ago. “...but would it be okay if I scheduled an appointment with you for later?”

Twilight’s ears twitched as she nosed through the history book. “Absolutely. I’ll just need to ask Spike to check my schedule first.” She mumbled dates and events under her breath. “Summit’s next Friday, can’t do it then… hmm. What did you want to see me about?”

“I have a friendship problem.”

The book snapped shut. “Spike, can you give me my schedule book, please?” The princess craned her elegant wings, leaning down to inspect Silver Spoon more closely. Silver shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with her braid. Dozens of follow-up questions danced in Twilight’s eyes, but she thankfully opted not to voice any of them. “It sounds serious.”

Silver glanced at the approaching dragon. She lowered her voice. “Yes. I think it might be.”

Princess Twilight nodded. “In that case, I’ll set aside a day for you. Is the Sunday after next alright, or do you need me to move it closer?” She tapped her quill against her chin. “I wish I could get you in sooner, but between your classes and my summit next week, I don’t think we can help that.”

“A whole day?” It sounded so drastic, especially for a princess who must have had dozens of better things to do. Silver didn’t know if Di would be willing to lose an entire day of election prep, either. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“For a friendship problem? I can’t think of anything more necessary, Silver Spoon.”


Silver Spoon peered through the stained glass of the schoolhouse window. Two silhouettes bounced on the other side: one soft and round, the other framed by a frizzy, uncombed mane. Bingo.

“Well?” In the shade of the dogwood tree a few feet away, Diamond Tiara sat up and swished her tail. She examined the image of herself in the stained glass with disinterest. “Are they in there?”

Pressing closer, Silver noticed a third, taller figure towards the back hunched over a desk. Grading papers, if she had to guess. “Even better, they’re with Miss Cheerilee.”

She still wished she could have convinced Diamond to hold out until tomorrow. It’d be better to announce this during next Wednesday’s official student council meeting—both to demonstrate commitment to the position and to smooth the transition of power. Then again, with two-thirds of the council and Miss Cheerilee present, this may as well be a meeting anyway.

As a mild bonus, approaching the council now also provided a clear demonstration of Silver’s perceptive skills. “I told you they’d be there.” The low-tier, nerdier foals usually took shelter indoors instead of stumbling through sports or trying to navigate the social scenes.

In the distance, Snips and Snails cried out as the jungle gym collapsed under their weight. A round of disappointed groans traveled through the playground.

That’s the second equipment failure this week, not counting the melted slide and scorched baseball field. “It’s not like there’s a bunch of options for playing outside at recess now. We should have plenty of time; I bet they’ll stay there till—hey!”

Diamond shouldered Silver Spoon away from the window to confirm. “At least you got that part right. For once.”

What, did she expect Silver to go knock on doors and take polls when Ponyville still hadn’t fully recovered from Tirek’s rampage? A move that insensitive would kill their momentum before it even started. “I told you the popularity graphs wouldn’t be totally complete until school started, Diamond. I did the best I could do.”

“Please. You call spending four days at home sniveling over some dumb fish and trying to kiss up to a princess ‘your best’?” Diamond arched an eyebrow. “You should have been able to pull this off without me having to hold your hoof all the time. A real friend would—”

“Okay! Okay, I get it, I’m sorry about the graphs. For now, can we move on to the next stage?”

“Sorry’s a sorry word, Silver Spoon.” Diamond Tiara settled into a spot by another window. “Signal me when you’re ready.”

“Right.” After a quick spot check for split ends and scuffs, Silver Spoon circled around the building and approached the door.

A couple of the new kids played cards by the front steps—friends of Boysenberry, if Silver remembered correctly. That meant today’s news could spread faster than expected. Bubblegum Brush—a filly with a mane so absurdly long it had to be the result of either bizarre genetics or a botched mane extension job—waved to her. “Hi, Silver Spoon. Are we still helping my sister with her tea party later?”

“Naturally.” Silver nodded to Bubblegum’s friend—a pigtailed filly whose name escaped her at the moment—and reached for the door, taking care not to step on any cards. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m meeting someone.”

At the center of the classroom, Truffle Shuffle and Twist shared a laugh over a baked tomato sandwich. They’d combined their desks (and part of Rumble’s) to form one large table, complete with an appetizing spread of cookies, flower blossoms, and cupcakes.

Miss Cheerilee briefly looked up from grading essays. “Why, hello there, Silver.” She didn’t seem surprised by her arrival.

“Thilver Thpoon! Over here!” Twist grinned with a mouth full of half-chewed sandwich. She swung her hoof over her head as if Silver couldn’t find the only occupied desks in the room. “Hiya!”

Politely ignoring the chunk of tomato that flew past her nose, Silver nodded to them both. “Hello, President Twist.” She smiled and took a seat next to the pudgy colt. “Vice President Shuffle.”

“Heh, not for much longer. We’re having a party to celebrate the end of Twist’s presidency. I sent an invitation, but I think it got lost that day the mail got all messed up.” Truffle Shuffle pulled a small plate of cucumber sandwiches out of his cooler. “I brought these in case you still showed up.”

A party might be an even better place to announce Diamond Tiara’s candidacy. She could invite more foals—and butter them up in advance—and top off the end of the old regime by introducing the new one. Yes, much better plan than before. Silver glanced at the tiara shining in the window. Not that there’s anything wrong with the current plan.

Silver wondered why they didn’t try inviting her at school instead. It would have been much easier. “Party, huh? When are you having it?”

“Right now, you thilly!” Twist laughed and slid a juice box across the table, along with some napkins.

“I… oh.” Silver looked again at the spread and laughed at herself. Yeah, this seemed about right for a Twist party. She favored little get-togethers like this. “Duh, Silver Spoon.”

“Glad you could make it, Thilver Thpoon.” Twist patted Silver’s back. “We really mithed you around here.”

Silver took a small bite of cucumber sandwich. The dill and cream cheese melted beautifully with just a touch of lemon. She devoured the rest in two bites. How had she forgotten how good Truffle’s cooking was? Silver put together a decent plate of cucumber sandwiches herself, but they didn’t have the smooth pops of flavor Truffle teased out of a meal.

“Yeah, I—wow, Truff, this is amazing, can I have another one of those?—I missed you guys, too.”

To Silver’s mild surprise, she realized she meant it. Truffle’s cooking skills aside, nopony Silver’s age shared her appreciation for protocol and rules, even if he leaned more on laws than decorum. Twist didn’t know insecurity from an iguana; the filly never met an idea she didn’t like, and on a good day her enthusiasm matched Pinkie Pie’s. How anypony managed to be that optimistic twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, Silver had no idea. They might have been dorks, but they were Silver’s dorks.

Twist giggled and poked Truffle’s nose. “Toldja she’d like your thandwicheth.” Leaning over to Silver, she not-whispered, “He thought you weren’t gonna like ‘em.”

Truffle poked her back. “I didn’t say she wouldn’t, I said she had a… sensitive palate. I mean, you do tea parties for a talent, Silver. If anypony knows cucumber sandwiches, it’s you.”

“How to serve them, maybe, not how to make them.” Silver polished off a third sandwich. Would it be uncouth to have more? Whatever, it wasn’t a formal party. She snapped up a fourth. “I’ve given some thought about what you said before. About the council, I mean.”

Truffle Shuffle’s ears stood straight up. “And?”

“I’ve decided to return as class secretary.” The huge grins of her fellow council ponies coaxed out a smile of Silver’s own. She tossed down her copy of the council charter to punctuate the statement. “Officially.”

“That’th awethome! Great to have ya back, Thilver.” Twist raised her juice box for a three-way toast. “The next two themethterth are gonna be great, right Truff?”

Truffle’s laughter put dimples in his cheeks. “Oh, you bet! I was starting to think I’d have to sit at meetings all by myself, you know? I mean, Twist’ll still be here, but she’ll be a regular council pony.”

“Well, the class president will need a competent pony backing her, right? Returning to the post seemed like a given.”

“Nice to know I’ll have your support. With you here, I know we’ll get some real progress with—hold on.” Truffle realized they were having different conversations at the same instant Silver did. “Did you say ‘her’?”

So, Vice President Shuffle went forward with his plan to run for office after all. What a pity. Silver Spoon sighed and flicked her tail for the signal. Maybe next year, Truff.

“I did, yes.” Silver’s smile toed the line between diplomacy and apology.

Miss Cheerilee’s hoofbeats echoed as she crossed the empty classroom to join them at the table. A small black ledger and her own copy of the council charter nestled in the crook of her foreleg. “Now, Truffle Shuffle, let’s remember to be good sports. I know you’ve been on the student council for a long time, but it’s not much of an election when only one pony runs.”

“And,” added Silver, “the more ponies running for office, the more involved other ponies will be. Foals around here will finally realize we have a student council.” At the very least, they’d know who the student president was. “We might even get new members.”

“That’s true, Silver Spoon. It’s always good to give new faces a chance at the democratic process.” It might have been Silver’s imagination, but she could have sworn Cheerilee’s smile stiffened, then. Her green eyes gave the briefest flicker towards the door. “No matter who they might be.”

Truffle felt the subtle shift in Cheerilee’s tone. He turned from Cheerilee to Twist to Silver to Cheerilee again. Slowly, he turned around. His disappointment congealed into horror. “…tell me it’s not…”

A familiar silhouette appeared in the door’s window.

“No. Ohhhh no.” He gaped at Silver Spoon as if she’d stomped his blue ribbon quiche in the mud and spat on it.

Silver cleared her throat and folded her hooves upon the table, eyes straight ahead. “Come now, council, let’s… all remember to be professional about this.”

The knob turned.

The empty juice box crumpled in Truffle’s grip. “Silver Spoon, no!”

Diamond Dazzle Tiara crossed the room, wielding the grin that had deflected detentions, annihilated rivals, and steamrolled a decade of beauty pageants. She tossed her flawless mane and spared a glance at Truffle’s drop-jawed horror. “I know. It’s hard to believe how lucky you are to soon have me for student pony president.” She popped his jaw shut with a flick of her hoof. “It’s enough to leave you speechless.”

In the two seconds it took for the rest of the council to digest the announcement, Silver met Diamond’s eyes from across the table. The fillies considered each other.

Silver’s folded hooves tensed, but her expression didn’t waver.

Diamond’s pageant grin shifted into something softer. Something thankful and ambitious and full of hope. Something real. She offered Silver a brief—almost invisible—nod. Praise without fine print.

This, they both realized, could work. Perhaps their friendship sailed rough waters right now. Perhaps rougher waters awaited them. Right now, none of that changed the fact that, even fractured, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon formed a schoolyard superpower.

“Yes, yes, it’s true!” Diamond pulled a fountain pen out from behind her ear and approached the registry Miss Cheerilee had already laid out. “I, Diamond Tiara, have finally decided to announce my candidacy for Ponyville Schoolhouse’s Student Pony President. Try to hold your applause.”

Nopony had to try very hard.

Not that she’d expected a standing ovation, but Silver suspected some windigos had received warmer receptions. Di’s unbridled egotism might fly onstage, but not here. Not now. Not with dozens of Diamond’s bridges still burning in the background. Silver adjusted her glasses. We’ll have to do something about that.

President Twist rose from her chair and offered her hoof out to shake. “That’th great, Diamond. Good luck.”

“Won’t need it, but thanks!” Diamond gave the hoof a mild pat. She glanced over the registration document Silver had already shown her over the weekend. The fountain pen slashed her name in one smooth stroke.

So. There it was in official black and white.

Silver Spoon steepled her hooves, watching the signature’s ink dry. Solidify. She kept her eyes on the signature. Not on Diamond Tiara’s preening, not on Cheerilee and Twist’s cautious optimism, and certainly not on Truffle Shuffle who would not stop staring.

Alright, fine. It could have gone better. It could have gone worse. It doesn’t matter now. What’s passed has passed, and I can’t change it.

Nowhere to go but forward.

Not far away, something crashed and a couple of fillies outside yelped for Miss Cheerilee. When the teacher opened the door to investigate, she found Sunny Daze already there and in tears (what else was new?) over a bruise on her leg. Another piece of the playground must have broken.

Truffle Shuffle watched Cheerilee lead the sniffling filly to the first aid kit, frowning. “Well. Whoever wins, we’ll at least have a better chance of talking to the school board.”

Before Silver could ask him to clarify—for nopony had ever really mentioned the school board before—Diamond Tiara snickered under her breath.

Twist nocked an ear back. She almost looked annoyed. “What’th tho funny?”

“Right, ‘whoever wins’.” Diamond casually leaned on the back of Cheerilee’s desk, examining her hoof polish. “Like we don’t already know who that’ll be.”

Truffle flattened his ears. “Wait ‘till the election’s over before you start writing your victory speech, Diamond Tiara.”

“Why should I? Like, no offense, Truffle, but if you’re my competition, I’m pretty much running unopposed. I mean…” In a sweep of her hooves, Diamond summed them up: the polished, popular princess versus the fat, forgettable tattletale. She nickered under her breath, a brush-off that didn’t even give the colt the dignity of her malice. “…like, come on.”

“Yeah, well, I… You…” A response struggled on Truffle Shuffle’s tongue, but couldn’t make it out. What could the poor kid possibly say?

Silver Spoon would be hard-pressed to find somepony who could say they hated Truffle, but harder pressed to find somepony—barring Twist—who’d pick him first for anything outside of (maybe) a cooking contest.

Even when nopony had anything nice to say about Diamond Tiara, everypony always had something TO say about Diamond Tiara. New foals knew Truffle Shuffle as That-One-Colt-Who-Does-Food. Everypony else knew him as The Snitch or The-Wet-Blanket-Who-Killed-Battletag or worse. Bearing that sort of multi-semester reputation—a reputation that could be easily twisted into something uglier—a light poke might tailspin him into pariah territory. And Diamond poked with sledgehammers.

Adults liked to say elections were about the issues. Adults liked to say it wasn’t a popularity contest. Adults also liked to say that Santa Hooves delivered Hearth’s Warming presents.

Four semesters of student council experience, genuine passion for the school’s well-being, and loads of good intentions might have made Truffle the best student president in recent history, but it wouldn’t get him elected. At least, not without a campaign manager to work P.R. and polish his finer qualities. Fat chance of that. The only foals Truffle Shuffle associated with were Twist and…

And me. He planned on asking me to manage his campaign. Under different circumstances, Silver probably would have. Facing somepony like Diamond, Truffle still might not win, but he’d have a chance. Silver Spoon finally lifted her head and turned to face him.

Truffle Shuffle had never learned how to craft a poker face. His disappointment hit raw. “Is that the only reason you came back? To help Diamond Tiara?” He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “You get the chance to do some real good for this school and you bring in that?”

Diamond flicked her tail and glared at him.

Truffle met it with a glare of his own and didn’t blink. “The only reason she’s here is to puff up her own big, fat, bloated ego and you know it.”

Poor choice of adjectives. Silver jumped in before Diamond could take the easy shot at a fat joke. “No, Truffle, I actually don’t know that. Neither do you.” When he snorted and rolled his eyes at her, Silver straightened to address the rest of the table. “Okay, then let me ask something else: do you know where Diamond spent her work-study project last summer?”

Both council ponies had to admit they didn’t, though President Twist had heard of Diamond’s masterful surfing escapades.

“She worked at Town Hall, learning legislature under Tall Order. Diamond’s seen how government works—the real stuff.” The reveal raised a couple of eyebrows. Silver offered a smile. “You can’t assume she’ll be a bad president if you don’t even give her the chance.”

“She’th got a good point, Truffle,” added Twist. She met Silver’s smile with optimism. “I mean, you didn’t think Thilver would be a good thecretary, but look how good that turned out.”

“Right.” The vice president’s soft face wrinkled with a sneer. His gaze flicked from Silver’s dimming smile to Diamond’s smug grin. “Look how that turned out.”

Silver’s ears drooped. “It’s not like that, Truffle.”

“Really? What’s it like, then?”

“Yeah, Silvie.” Diamond Tiara reached over Silver Spoon’s shoulder to grab a cucumber sandwich. She propped her elbows on the table and chewed slowly. “What’s it like?”

“It’s…” Silver pulled her hooves into her lap and stared at the council charter's publication information. “It’s complicated.”

Diamond smiled. “Sounds like.”

Truffle twitched his ears in thought. He looked at the two of them again, then at Silver’s hooves clasped tightly in her lap. Some of the hurt faded from his eyes. “Yeah, it kinda does. Silver, maybe I wasn’t being totally fair. It’s not like I ever actually asked you to manage…” He tried to scoot closer, but the curtain of Diamond’s hair fell between them. “…uh. Never mind.”

“Like, honestly, I dunno why you’re even surprised.” Diamond stepped away from the desk with a shrug. “It’s not like you guys were ever friends. You’re co-workers or whatever—associates, if we’re being generous—but that’s all. Who wants to be friends with a fat, sniveling loser besides other losers?”

Silver’s ears dipped lower. “Diamond, come on.”

“‘Come on’, what? It’s true.”

Twist’s head snapped up, glaring. “Hey, it ith not! Truffle ithn’t any of those thingth!”

Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes. “I rest my case.” She slung a foreleg over Silver’s shoulder and patted. “But I know Silver Spoon’s no loser.” Pat pat. “Right, Silvie?” Pat pat.

“…right, Di.”

“Good. ‘Cause we both know I don’t hang out with losers.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Satisfied, the future student pony president nodded. “C’mon, we’re leaving.” She trotted for the door without waiting for a response.

“Excuse me, I’ve got to go. It was a nice party, Twist; congratulations on a really good presidency.” Silver cleared her throat and began to gather her things. Without looking up, she added, “Truffle Shuffle… look, you’re really nice. I like you, and you are my friend.” She glanced towards the door. “But Diamond is my best friend.”

The window rattled with Diamond’s knock. “Hey. We’re leaving today?”

“Um.” Twist sucked her juice box. She raised a curly red eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Like I said, it’s complicated.” Silver flinched at another knock on the glass and rose from her chair before the council had another window to replace. “I know one day you’ll be an amazing president, Truffle Shuffle, just not now. You should sit this election out. You’re a good pony. I don’t want to see Diamond ruin you.”

Truffle flicked his stubby tail and drained the rest of his juice box. “I’ll think about it, Silver Spoon.” He tossed her one last cucumber sandwich for the road. A quiet smile crossed his face. “I can’t make any promises for Pipsqueak, though.”


Silver Spoon missed the War Room. True, the spotlights ramped up the tension and the trophies walled them in, but the place retained the comfort of history. Even after a brutal loss, returning to the War Room reminded Diamond and Silver that if a filly could win a trophy once, she could do so again. It was a place of strategy, a place where past victories laid the blueprints of new ones.

The Rich Conservatory held no such comfort. From all sides, the sun beat down on a modest collection of flowers, ferns, shrubberies, and stunted trees too proud to be labeled shrubberies.

Sitting at the little marble table at the center of the conservatory, Silver Spoon watched the world beyond the glass walls and the glass roof. She suddenly understood why Ferdinand hated his travel bowl so much. Without his castle or little jungle of plants, he’d nowhere to hide. In the shade of a mighty ficus, a bead of sweat slipped down Silver’s back.

“You said nopony cared about student government.” Diamond Tiara paced a third lap around the table. “You said I’d be running unopposed.” Despite her harsh tone, little heat backed it: a strong wind, not a hurricane.

“I know what I said, Diamond.” Silver squinted in the sunlight as she wiped condensation from her lenses. The humidity in here fuzzed her braid like a dandelion. She glanced at the white hydrangeas bobbing over Diamond’s head. Not that Mrs. Rich would ever grow anything so common as dandelions in here. “I also said that was an estimate. An educated guess.”

In the corner of Silver’s eye, Mrs. Rich watered a miniature juniper tree. She’d been there since they’d arrived, clipping leaves, plucking stray petals, and turning soil in her gardening outfit. Every so often, her ear turned in their direction, but thus far she hadn’t said anything beyond the obligatory exchange of hellos. No commentary was good commentary; Silver intended to keep it that way.

“Besides, running unopposed is like buying a trophy.” Thus, not a win at all. By Di’s standards, only the condescension of a participation ribbon could be worse. “At least this way, there’s some sport in it.” To say the least.

Diamond flopped into the wicker chair opposite Silver Spoon. “Hm. Guess that’s true.” She scooted closer to see Silver’s notes.

A food web of the school’s societal ecosystem took up most of the table, a map arranged and color-coded by social rank, personal animosity, likability, and drive. It measured not only a foal’s popularity with potential voters, but also the likelihood of dropping out mid-game to go play tetherball or something.

The tip of Silver’s pen tapped Pipsqueak’s picture, centered in the web and ringed with red and orange. “Pip was always a strong possibility. He sounded interested in the presidency before, and the colt’s got enthusiasm for miles.”

Mrs. Rich looked up from her juniper tree, brandishing pruning shears. “Who?”

“Pipsqueak. He moved here from Trottingham last year with his older sister,” Silver said. “He’s the little one with all the spots.”

“The one with the accent? That sickly little seedling?” She turned back to her juniper with a dismissive sniff. “Surprised he’s even allowed to run; he’s not even from here.”

Diamond Tiara sniffed. “In class, he has to sit on a box so Cheerilee can even see him.”

Silver chewed her pen cap thoughtfully. Pip’s altitude and nonnative status wasn’t the part they had to worry about. “He’s popular, too, and not just with the colts.” A candidate that crossed gender lines was a rare boon. Truffle Shuffle—who’d surely encouraged him to run—picked a good pony to bet on.

Mrs. Rich humphed. “Not more than Diamond Tiara, I’m sure.”

Silver hadn’t seen any official polls yet, but she remembered pools of ponies evaporating to a droplet the second Diamond’s shadow hit the pavement. She couldn’t remember the last time a foal smiled at them when they passed.

She marked herself lucky that Spoiled’s assessment of Pip’s popularity had been a statement, not a question. One did not need to respond to statements, and Spoiled Rich seemed adept at sniffing out lies.


“You know Nightmare Night’s not for, like, another couple weeks, right?” Silver Spoon crept around the chalk glyphs and symbols etched onto the hardwood floor. Thanks to Dinky’s illegible penmanship, Silver couldn’t tell if she walked over a spell, a summoning ritual, or a recipe for rhubarb soup. “Wouldn’t that be when you’d get more spirits or whatever?”

The Dink sprinkled something white and powdery in her coat. “Exactly. The barriers between worlds are thinnest, then. Everypony’s gonna try and talk to ‘em, and all the spirits will be runnin' around. It’d be like trying to flag down Celestia in the middle of the Summer Sun Celebration. We’re trying to get one ghost, not sixty. Also, it’ll be too late by then.”

“Why?” The deepening sunset shone through the dilapidated roof above them. Silver wrinkled her nose at the cobwebs in the corner and searched for a place to sit.

“Because the test is the day after tomorrow. Duh.” Dink reached into her pockets and pulled out a notebook, five candles, three pencils, a yo-yo, an apple core, and a baby blanket with winged muffins on it. The Dink wrapped the blanket around her shoulder like a scarf, glaring at the room, daring somepony to say something. “You bring the stuff, Spoons?”

Silver nodded and laid out her supplies: thyme, apple seeds, an assortment of used tea leaves, and her first teacup. She still didn’t see the point of the cup, but The Dink had firmly insisted that everypony bring a sentimental object from their preschool years. “Not to tread on your tail, Dink, but…” She gestured to the chalk runes, candles, and the circle of mirrors positioned around the room. “Wouldn’t it be easier to, you know, study for the geography test instead?”

The unicorn blinked at her.

“You know, study? Like with a textbook? And notes?”

The Dink mouthed the word as if it didn’t fit in her muzzle. She turned to the blue colt cleaning camera lenses next to her. “Shades, you getting any of that?”

Shady Daze screwed a green lens on his camera. “Not a word, Dink. I think she’s speaking some kinda Zebrican.” The camera snapped a test shot of the floor. “Hope I can get a decent shot of Mrs. Hackney’s ghost with this. Pip was supposed to help get me a ride to Canterlot so I could buy a night lens, but he had election junk to do.”

Perfect. Silver didn’t even have to fish for an opening. “That’s a shame, Shady. Diamond’s been busy with the campaign, but she still always has time for me.”

“Yeah, pretty sure that’s ‘cause you’re on the campaign, Spoons,” The Dink pointed out. “Who else would she have?”

Shady Daze slung the camera around his neck with a snort. “Who else would put up with her?” He shrugged off Silver Spoon’s disapproving frown. “Hey, I don’t make the news, I just shoot it. Everypony knows she just wants to be president so she can boss more ponies around.”

Silver rolled her eyes. And Pip wants to be president because he’s got nothing better to do, what’s your point?

Unless she remembered wrong—and Silver didn’t—Pipsqueak more often than not formed the fourth member of Dinky’s mystery crew. The other members were Berry Pinch (thankfully still too busy helping her mom repair the house to come and potentially ruin Silver’s efforts) and Shady Daze. Mudslinging the opponent wouldn’t do any good here.

Just as well. Everypony’s probably expecting that, anyway.

“What’s wrong with that? Somepony has to take the lead, and it just so happens that Diamond’s talent is directing other ponies.” Above them, the red sky faded to light purple. The summoning began at twilight; Silver’s time ran thin. “As far back as kindergarten, every class project Diamond’s ever been part of gets A’s across the board. She gave The Foal Free Press record sales.”

Shady Daze crossed his forelegs. “She gave everypony some record headaches, too. Face it, Silver Spoon, Diamond’s a-a—”

“A first-class, Grade-A certified butt trumpet, full stop.” The Dink checked the glyphs on the floor as she lit and arranged the candles. “I could call her some other stuff too, but we’re calling up a teacher, and I don’t want… like… ghost detention.”

Eyeing the lit candle right behind her head, Silver pinned her braid up. “Dink, c’mon, she’s not that bad.”

“You think that ‘cause you’re too close to see it, Spoons. Or because you haven’t pushed the right buttons yet. Maybe Tiara was cool a long time ago, but...” The last candlestick slammed onto the floor, splattering wax over the chalk. “I’ll tell ya this: your friend’s lucky Pinchers didn’t knock her teeth out.” The Dink snorted. “I know I would’ve if she’d said something like that to me.”

Silver had never heard Dinky Doo snort before. Seeing an angry Dinky was like seeing Applejack grow pears. Fur prickled on the back of Silver Spoon’s neck. “What did she say?” The question rolled out before she could stop it. It wasn’t her business. It would only stir bad feelings. More importantly, she didn’t want to know. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry—”

“She called Berry Pinch a lowlife.” From the expression on Dink’s face, that had been the least of what Diamond called her. The least of what Dinky could share without Pinch’s say-so. “She told her that one day she’d end up in jail, just like her dad—she said that already knowing what Pinch’s dad is like, and it—it’s not cool, Silver Spoon. It’s beyond not cool.”

“Oh,” whispered Silver Spoon. So much for The Dink’s vote. At least a fourth of the overall vote went with it, too.

“Sometimes I dunno what you’re doing hanging around a pony like that, Spoons.”

“Dink, it’s not that simple—”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure it is.” The Dink shoved her hooves deep in her pockets, scowling at one of the broken windows. “I know why she did it, Spoons. Pinch told me all that stuff about the Press and fine, whatever. I get that you can be a sneak sometimes and Tiara gets... the way she gets. Doesn’t matter. There’s just some stuff you don’t do.”

The old candlelit shed fell silent. The roof creaked and moaned. A rotten plank crashed to the floor, letting in the starlight.

“Great, now we’re bugging the spirits.” The Dink took her place in the circle and took a deep breath. “Look, let’s just axe the subject and get to business. This bad mood’s no good for summoning.”

Shady Daze nodded and happily took Dinky’s outreached hoof. “This is exactly why Dad says ‘no politics at the dinner table’. Everypony gets angry and spins their wheels.”

“Everypony hold hooves.” The Dink gripped Silver’s hoof tight. “Remember, we don’t break the circle for nothing. You got it?”

“Loud and clear,” said Silver Spoon.


Warm glass pressed against Silver’s back as she reviewed her schedule book. Not that she needed to. The election monopolized virtually all the spare days and hours outside school and Silver’s apprenticeship. She frowned at the little X’s that crossed through the past few afternoons. Sometimes, not even the apprenticeship.

Miss Tealove insisted that she understood and wasn’t the least bit put out by the cancellations. Just like how she’d understood when Diamond tied Silver’s hooves with election prep last week. And during the pageant prep in May. And all the rest of Diamond Tiara’s massive projects. At this point, Silver Spoon had to wonder if somepony had paid her mentor to keep her around.

Voices muffled inside the conservatory’s glass walls. Silver dared a glance over her shoulder. Inside, Spoiled Rich spoke sternly and even while she arranged the white hydrangeas. Most likely a preparative lecture. To Silver’s knowledge, nothing had happened to justify an angry lecture. Yet.

Whatever it was, Diamond didn’t appear thrilled with it. She kept fussing with her tiara and twirling her mane the way she did when Cheerilee kept the class late for recess. Snippets of protests disguised as questions leaked through the glass with increasing volume. “…weeks left…” and “…we have to…”

Mrs. Rich turned, frowning.

Diamond cut her volume in half.

Deciding this would be a remarkable time to continue minding one’s own business, Silver turned her head back towards the lawn and the schedule book in her lap. She flicked out her green highlighter and underlined this Sunday’s tea (technically a meeting, but what kind of savage held meetings without tea?) with Princess Twilight Sparkle. It sat dangerously close to Speech Strategy Hour.

Tight fit. Silver clicked her tongue. Real tight fit.

The Princess’s time ran limited that day. There would be a wedding late that afternoon between Pinch’s grouchy mentor and Miss Matilda, the kind jenny who visited the teahouse Wednesday mornings and took her tea with lots of lemon. Surely Princess Twilight planned to attend.

Unless Silver bumped up her meeting time to the early morning, that only left a few hours to talk. “Can I reschedule to come earlier?” she wondered aloud. “Or would doing that so close to the date be rude?”

Before Silver could think too deeply on it, the back door to the conservatory opened. “Trust me, Diamond; it will be good for you.” Mrs. Rich trailed out, sipping a fennel tea blend Silver Spoon had given her earlier that week. She smiled and patted her stepdaughter's shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“Yes, Mother.” Diamond waited for Mrs. Rich to go back in before she signaled Silver with her tail and trotted across the yard. “Change of plans, Silver Spoon. We’re doing the speech stuff today. I’m going to Canterlot on Sunday.”

Silver clamped her schedule book in her teeth and scampered to meet Diamond at the shoulder. “Oh, is your stepmom working on the Jet Set and Upper Crust wedding?”

“Gimme what you’ve got so far on the polls and we—” Diamond Tiara paused at the gate. “How’d you know that?” Her eyes squinted into slits.

Great. What’d I do this time? “My parents know those two from… I dunno, high society stuff? They run in the same circles or something.” Silver shrugged as they rounded the corner. “The invitations arrived a couple days ago, but Mother and Father didn’t want to leave me by myself again—not when Tacks is still recovering—but it turns out that my granddad knows the groom for the Ponyville wedding, so he’s coming down to—”

“Silver, it’s a simple question, I didn’t need an essay. You get the outline done for the speech yet?”

“I finished it this morning.” It had gone through four rewrites, three editing sessions, and a trial run through Brass Tacks. At this point, the outline was practically a speech already, and a good one, if Silver had anything to say about it.

A large shadow passed overhead, along with several little ones. Silver looked up.

Cotton Cloudy and Tornado Bolt pushed a small cluster of cumulus through the sky. Featherweight shadowed them, corralling stray bits of cloud. When Featherweight skirted down to check the underside for stragglers, he rotated his dinner plate ears towards Silver Spoon and began to lift his hoof.

Diamond followed Silver’s gaze and frowned.

Featherweight put his hoof down. The colt beat his wings, swinging to the other side of the cloud in one smooth swoop. Tornado Bolt followed him with her ears pinned. Cotton stayed put and glared.

Silver Spoon waved to them and smiled her kindest, most sincere smile. “Hi, guys. What are you up to?”

Featherweight’s ears pricked up behind the cloud. Cautiously, he peeped over the edge. “Oh, uh, hey, Silver. And… Diamond.” His spindly legs braced against the cloud fluff, as if prepared to launch himself into the stratosphere. “We’re moving these to Tornado’s place.”

“Are you doing repairs?” When an answer didn’t come right away, Silver tilted her head and gently prompted, “Or is it something else?”

“We’re building a fortress,” said Tornado Bolt. She skimmed around the edge to even out the west side of the cloud before it detached. “Like in issue thirty-seven of the Power Ponies—not the reboot, but that one spinoff arc after the trans-dimensional rift when the team split up into parallel universes—and Zapp went to that one universe where High Heel’s a good guy and she helped her gang and built a fortress to keep out the Nega Power Ponies.”

“Oh!” said Silver Spoon. Her mind flipped through multiple hours of Tornado’s past comic book talk until she found something relevant. “The fortress with the... zodiac statues?”

Tornado Bolt’s feathers fluffed proudly. “Yep! We’re almost done with the walls, right Cotton?”

“Yeah. One more left.” Cotton Cloudy flicked her tail and went back to pushing. “We’ve gotta get these clouds moving, so… later.”

“Bye.” Anypony would think Cloudsdale brinked on a collapse from how fast they pushed that cumulus. Silver rubbed the back of her neck as they passed into the shopping district. That really could have gone better. “Hey, Di?”

Diamond’s pace fell harder on the path. “What?”

“I’ve just been thinking, and…”

Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes.

The pegasus foals faded higher into the sky and out of sight. “Maybe you should consider apologizing to Rumble.”

A coarse, disdainful sound scuffled in the back of Diamond’s throat. “Why?”

“You know…” Silver edged closer, lowering her voice as they approached the vendor stands. “…for that prank we pulled after we found out he’s scared of thunder?”

“Wait, you mean the thing with—are you serious?” Diamond scoured the lines of flowers in Roseluck’s stand. The wild tansy brushed under her chin, the petals vibrant but the leaves curling and wilted. “That happened, like, a year ago, Silver Spoon. If it’s been that long and he’s still not over it, that’s his fault. The kid needs to learn how to take a joke. And what do you mean I should apologize?” One blue eye rolled up to glare at Silver. “You were there, too. Why don’t you apologize?”

“I did.” Two weeks ago, a few hours after she’d returned her book to Princess Twilight. After an hour’s honest talk over orange soda floats—the colt said that tea tasted like mud and if certain young ladies didn’t have jobs to do, certain ladies might have demanded satisfaction—Rumble had fully accepted Silver Spoon’s apology. Just Silver’s.

“If Tiara wants to say she’s sorry, she can come talk to me by herself.”

“He wants—” Silver frowned as her friend reached to gather a spray of flowers. “Di, that tansy doesn’t look too good. What about these instead?” She motioned towards the fresher lilies and hazel blossoms. The hazel looked especially vibrant today. “Rumble wants to hear it from both of us.”

The hazel received a quick sniff. Diamond flicked her tail and turned towards the columbines instead. “A lot of ponies want a lot of things. Rumble needs to quit being a wet-feather baby and get over himself.” She bought the columbines, along with a couple tansy stems. “I mean, really, who even cares what he thinks?”

“Maybe you should. You’re the one running for office.” Silver flinched at her tone. That came out too firm, too bossy, and way too contradictory. She turned her eyes towards a scorch mark in the dirt. “Uh, that is—”

“No, what is it, Silver Spoon?” Diamond Tiara leaned against the stand’s broken wheel and slipped the tansy in her mouth. Her teeth shaved the blossoms off the stem in one smooth stroke. “You think you know better, so tell me. I’d hate for you to go behind my back to poke into my business.”

“That’s not—”

Wait. No, that’s a trap. A trap that Silver might have already sprung; more resistance would only tighten the snare. More importantly, it was a derailment neither filly had the time for.

Silver’s eye flicked up towards Roseluck. The vendor quickly ducked her head and pretended to examine her violets. Two stands over, Boysenberry slowed her raspberry arrangements, tilting her ears towards something juicier.

Bad time, worse place, and no choice. Silver met Diamond Tiara’s eye and lowered her voice to a near-whisper. “Di, listen. It might be nice to have Rumble on our side. He’s really big with the other pegasus foals, the sporty kids, and most of the colts.” Possibly even more than Pip, but Silver preferred not to voice that call without solid numbers. “It’s three for three.”

Diamond slowly chewed her columbines. For a little while, she stared at a broken weathervane and didn’t say anything. “You really think it’ll even matter?”

“No,” said Silver Spoon. “I know it will.”

Unless somepony worked a miracle in the next two weeks, Cotton Cloudy’s vote was as good as Pipsqueak’s. She hadn’t forgotten the rude dismissal Tornado Bolt received after the flag competition, and Diamond’s recent behavior didn’t garner much favor, either. A good word from Rumble would match or even overpower a bad one from Cotton.

Between Berry Pinch and The Dink, the core unicorn vote had capsized. Only Luna knew how the earth pony tides turned. They needed the pegasi, and badly.

Diamond’s back pressed against the broken wheel. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the weathervane. “If he’s been that mad since last fall, what makes you think he’ll even listen to me?”

“It didn’t stop him from listening to me, right?” Springing for that orange soda float hadn’t hurt, either. Silver smiled. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t do the same thing for you. If nothing else, you can honestly say you did everything you could.”

“Mm.” Diamond sucked her teeth and popped the rest of the tansy stem in her mouth. She wrinkled her nose a little when the leaves hit her tongue. “I’ll think about it.”

Encouraged by this rational display, Silver Spoon pushed on. “I’ve done some thinking, and I think it’d help if you showed everypony some commitment to the school. Maybe a plan to fix up some things.” That part ought to be easy. The old place had been falling apart even before a giant hoof stomped on it.

Silver raised her eyebrows with an encouraging grin. “In fact, a general theme of improvement might be a really good platform?”

A thought waned and waxed in the quick flick of Diamond’s eyes. She tucked the rest of the columbine behind her ear and approached Silver’s bag. “Let me see your notes. The speech ones.”

“Sure, they’re right—” The folder got snatched up before Silver even finished pulling it out. “…here.”

Diamond’s mouth flattened into a grim slash. Storm clouds solidified with every line she skimmed. “This is a joke, right?”

Not unless Di had somehow grabbed the list of icebreakers by mistake. “No?”

Silver checked the pages in Diamond’s hooves. Bullet points covered themes of humility and new beginnings before shifting into the main We’re-All-In-This-Together talking point. She lifted a corner to check the page detailing the burned roof of the Rich estate. No, all in order.

She braced herself. “Is there something wrong with—”

“Everything is wrong with it!” Four sheets of paper and six hours of hard work flew into the air. Diamond ground the introduction page into the dirt with her hoof. “I can’t believe you, Silver Spoon. I thought you were supposed to be helping me. I thought you were my friend!”

“I am!” Above the berry stand, a tattered page of the speech fluttered, caught in the bare branches of an elm tree. The sight of it sank her heart. Silver wrapped her tail tight around herself. “I am,” she repeated, quieter this time.

“Then why did you write a speech that makes me sound like a total dirtbag? No, even worse—a pleading, pathetic dirtbag! A real friend would be trying to make me look better, not worse!”

“No! No, it’s… it’s supposed to show you’re relatable to the other ponies.” The strategy Silver built over the past two weeks melted under Diamond’s ferocious glare. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if she believed in what she’d written anymore. Maybe she did write a bad speech. “That you have flaws, like everypony else...”

“Yeah, that’ll make for a great slogan. ‘Vote for Diamond Tiara: She’s a Jerk, Like You’. ‘A vote for Diamond is a vote for flaws’. ‘Vote Tiara: She Totally Sucks!’ If I didn’t know better…” Diamond Tiara stepped back, sizing Silver up. “...I’d think you’re trying to sabotage me.”

“Diamond, I’m not.”

“I know.” Diamond Tiara’s eyes hardened. “You’re not that obvious.”

Activity buzzed in the corner of Silver Spoon’s eye. Boysenberry hung on the edge of her vending stand, flicking her ears like a telegraph knob, and completely unaware that she had a customer. She’d tell half the foals in town before nightfall. The other half could hear for themselves.

Not far from Honeybuzz’s stand, Scootaloo slowed the Crusaders’ scooter ride. She hovered a few inches off the handlebars, trying to listen in until Apple Bloom pulled her back down and fussed at her, probably for either eavesdropping or making them late to whatever shenanigans occupied their time today. Sweetie Belle shot Silver Spoon a sympathetic wince that Silver couldn’t acknowledge.

Under the burning spotlights of dozens of eyes, Silver straightened her withers and steadied herself. A small voice called her to fight for the speech she’d written; she could still save it, the rough drafts still remained in her desk. She could try to clarify the reasoning behind her plan. She could explain the schoolyard’s near-universal impatience with Diamond’s ego and explain the value of humility in a hostile market.

A louder voice told Silver she wouldn’t. She already knew that any arguments would be lost in the roar of the hurricane, and she’d have to wait for the winds to settle before trying again. She also knew that she didn’t have that kind of time. Not in this social climate.

She dared another glance at the crowd. Carrot Crunch and his awful teeth murmured something to Sunny Daze and Peachy Pie. Sunny bowed her head in… was that pity?

Nothing good could come of this for either of their reputations, especially Diamond’s. Forget the speech. Silver Spoon flattened her ears. This public spat has to end. Now.

“I’ll rewrite it, Diamond. Maybe try a different angle this time.”

“You better.” Diamond snapped her tail, signaling them to get a move on. Silver gladly complied. “You’re lucky there’s an extra Sunday for you to clean up the mess you made.”

“I know.” Also extra time for Silver to analyze the polls and, with luck, mend some burnt bridges.

At the edge of the shopping district stood Bon Bon’s Sugar Shack. A cozy if somewhat unremarkable little place that usually didn’t stand out from any other residential shop in Ponyville. But today, when Silver Spoon rounded the corner, she couldn’t help but notice it.

Miss Bon Bon’s thatched roof fluffed with healthy, lush hay. Flowers bloomed in the window and a wind chime clinked in the breeze. Blue shutters and pink accents popped against the beige paint job. Twist had helped Miss Lyra paint those very shutters a week before Tirek came to Ponyville; the paint hadn’t even been chipped.

On the same street where every house suffered broken windows, twisted fences, burnt rooftops, and snapped weathervanes, Bon Bon’s candy store—as far as Silver could see—still stood cozy, pretty, and pristine. Completely unharmed. Aside from a weedy lawn, the place didn’t have a thing wrong with it.

Outside the front door, Twist and Truffle Shuffle played checkers. Twist’s ears twitched as Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon passed by, but she hunched her shoulders and didn’t look at them.

“You’ve even luckier I’m giving you this second chance, you know.” Diamond fell into a canter, with a little humph under her breath. “Lucky I’m letting you help my campaign at all, really.”

Truffle Shuffle lifted his head from the board with a stare Silver felt from across the street. Not a harsh or unkind one, but something worse: a stare that said “You’re better than this.” A stare that said, “I feel sorry for you.”

Silver didn’t let it bother her. Truffle was a lovely colt with only the best of intentions, but he simply didn’t understand the particulars and complicated nuances of the situation. Maybe someday Silver would explain it to him.

“I know, Di.” Somepony like Palanquin or Toplofty would have seen fit to let Silver Spoon dangle in the wind. Diamond not only was allowing her to stay, but keeping her as a campaign manager. Despite everything, they still had their friendship, and Princess Twilight said friendship was the most important thing in the whole world. “I’m grateful for it.”

Diamond Tiara smiled, satisfied. “Okay, let’s get the lead out. We’ve still got other work to do, and I won’t let your lame speech make me late.”

Maybe their friendship sailed through choppy waters now, but it was only another hurricane and nopony knew how to sail through hurricanes like Silver Spoon. All hurricanes eventually blew over. All wounds could heal, and all holes could be fixed.

On the brighter side of things, at least Silver still had a friendship left to fix. Proper young ladies, after all, understood the value of gratitude.

Not everypony knew the good fortune that had been blessed upon the Silvers. Not every filly could possess Silver Spoon’s luck, and she had been quite lucky, indeed.

“I’ll have the revised version ready before Monday, Diamond.”

“And you’ll have it done right this time?”

Even if at times, Silver did not always feel exceptionally lucky.

“Absolutely.” Silver Spoon smiled in the manner that fortunate young ladies were meant to smile. She kept her eyes on the lovely horizon and counted her blessings.