Over the next few days, S.B. did not leave the grounds of Matilda and Cranky’s house. He did not simply sit inside it moping, though. Either by guilt at their kindness to him or from boredom, he began spontaneously doing yard work. This initially included mowing the lawn and weeding the various gardens of inedible plants, most of which he promptly ate.
When Cranky realized this, he set S.B. to several tasks that he had been putting off. At one point, this involved having S.B. help him re-shingle his house’s roof, a process that involved him standing on the ground and barking orders to the colt as he walked across the roof. S.B. fell off exactly seven times, but proved remarkably durable.
Matilda did not especially mind having S.B. there. It was an odd circumstance that she had not anticipated, but apart from being terrified of going into town again- -rightfully, she thought- -he was otherwise a perfect guest. He did not tend to interfere with Matilda or Cranky’s life, and the activity associated with him was a pleasant change of pace from a life that had otherwise grown somewhat monotonous.
Even more strangely was that Cranky did not seem to overtly mind S.B.’s presence. Matilda found that far more amusing than any of S.B.’s antics, and far more peculiar. He was exactly as cranky as usual, not more so as Matilda had expected. She found his consistency charming, if highly unexpected.
One day, Matilda found herself staring out of one of her windows, watching as S.B. attempted to rake the fallen sticks out of the lawn. It was funny to see him wrestling with the oversized rake and trying with such determination to wrangle those sticks.
“Is he still here?” asked Cranky, deviating from his course to the kitchen and coming to stand beside Matilda.
“Yes,” said Matilda. She turned to her husband. “I just don’t feel comfortable with making him leave. After what they did to him in town, and how he has nowhere to go…”
“He can’t stay here forever,” said Cranky, his normal gruffness actually lessening and making it a point that he was not simply complaining. He was right.
“I know,” sighed Matilda. “But…it’s kind of nice.”
“Having somepony to mow the lawn that’s not me? Sure, I guess.”
“Not that.” Matilda paused, not sure if she wanted to say what she was really thinking. She trusted Cranky more than anything, though, and decided to continue. “It’s nice having a child around.”
Cranky grumbled slightly, and Matilda looked at him. He was now looking out the window, seemingly watching S.B. His gaze was far more distant, though, and she saw such profound sadness in his eyes that she herself nearly started to cry.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “It’s all my fault.”
“Cranky, no, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“But it’s true.” He voice sounded neutral, failing to convey any of the sadness in his eyes. Somehow that made it worse. “It’s my fault. I took so long to find you…”
“But you did find me.” Matilda leaned against him. “And that’s what counts, isn’t it?”
“But we lost so much time. And we lost…certain things.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“But I can’t stop thinking about it. If I had just followed you to Ponyville back then…” He sighed. “Well…if we had had children…they’d be adults by now. I can’t help it. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like. Having a daughter, maybe. Having to be angry at a son-in law by now. The darn fool would probably be a darn pony…I’d probably have winged-mule grandfoals by now.” He sighed again. “But it’s too late. We’re too old now.”
“And that’s why you haven’t been angry at him, isn’t it?”
Cranky did not answer, at least not at first. He appeared to be thinking. Then, finally, he spoke. “It’s not fair to him. He’s not our son, and he’s not supposed to be. We can’t think of him like that.”
“I know,” said Matilda. “But it was nice to imagine sometimes, isn’t it?”
They watched together for a moment, but after a few minutes, Cranky sighed. He did not sound at all whistful this time. Instead, he sounded exasperated.
“He tangled his horns stuck in the rake again, didn’t he?”
“It seems that way.”
Cranky grumbled, walking off. “I’ll get the butter…”
Matilda and Cranky eventually came to the mutual conclusion that they could not keep S.B. with them forever. Exactly what to do with him, though, was still a mystery. While that remained a mystery, though, they decided that the best way to help him was to at least attempt to integrate him into pony society. So, on the fourth day of S.B.’s stay, while Matilda wrote several letters to local orphanages, Cranky was tasked with bringing S.B. to school.
S.B., of course, was not happy with this, but he was remarkably obedient. Despite his fear of returning to town, his respect and admiration for both Matilda and Cranky led him to follow their suggestion absolutely. After all, they had been kind enough to take care of him when nopony else would, and he felt obliged to do whatever he could for them, even if it meant facing his worst fears.
This sentiment was strong at the house, but as Cranky and S.B. began to pass through the town and near the schoolhouse, S.B. felt his resolve quickly waning.
“I- -I can’t do this,” said S.B., turning around suddenly.
“No you don’t!” said Cranky, turning him around the opposite way. “You can, and you will.”
“But it’s too stressful! It’s too scary! There- -there will be other children, and they’re going to throw vegetables at me- -”
Cranky reached down and moved S.B. about a foot to the left, just in time to cause him to avoid a moldy, dry apple that came hurdling in his direction from seemingly nowhere.
“Like that!” cried S.B. “I have to go! I’m sorry!”
S.B. started to bound away. “Stop,” ordered Cranky. S.B. ground to a halt. “You’re just going to give up like that? Do you know what Matilda’s doing right now? She’s taking time out of her day to look for an orphanage for you. And Celestia’s butt knows she’s got better things to do than that. Or did you think we’re as boring as we are old and just sit around all day?”
“I don’t think you want me to answer that…” S.B. looked up at Cranky with big, pleading eyes, but Cranky’s remained unmoved, his resolve earning even more respect from S.B.
“Do you know why we’re even bothering to do this, kid?” he asked after a moment.
“Because you think I’m an actual child instead of an abomination of false-creativity?”
“No. I’m not even sure what that means, and I don’t care to. It’s because unless your name’s ‘Fluttershy’, you can’t get through life as a doormat.”
“I wish I was a doormat. Doormats have a purpose.”
“See? That’s exactly what I mean!” Cranky seemed annoyed. “You don’t have any confidence, kid. How the hay do you expect to get anything done in life like that?”
“Confidence?” S.B. was confused. It sounded like a nebulous concept.
“What, are you deaf? That’s what I just said.” Cranky started walking again, and S.B. fell into step beside him. “But you can’t just be confident. You have to grow it.”
“Grow? How?” S.B. thought for a moment, and rephrased his question. “How did you obtain the confidence, then?”
“How? Kid, it may not look like it now, but I used to be an adventurer.”
S.B.’s eyes went wide and he gasped in surprise. “You?”
“Why? A donkey can’t be an adventurer?”
“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just that…you have the old.”
“I didn’t always!” snapped Cranky. “I used to be young and handsome and regular. I quested all over Equestria back in my day. From the Dragonland to the streets of Manehattan, the whole shebang.”
“But why did you stop?”
“Because I took an arrow to the knee.” Cranky lifted one of his more arthritic limbs and gestured at the knee. S.B. nearly fainted from the thought of such an injury. “Word of advice,” mumbled Cranky. “Never let a sea serpent use a crossbow. They close their eyes when they pull the trigger.”
“Did you…did you die?”
Cranky stared at S.B. “You’re not very bright, are you, kid?”
“No, unfortunately.”
Cranky sighed, and his eyes seemed to become more distant. “The problem was, I was never confident when it counted.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Well, back when I was young, I once went to the Grand Galloping Gala. And when I was there, I met the most beautiful donkey I’d ever seen, and I fell in love.”
S.B. gasped. “Does Matilda know?”
“Of course, you idiot. She WAS Matilda. It was kind of implied. And if you keep gasping all the time like that you’re going to suck in a fly and choke.” S.B. immediately clapped his hooves over his mouth and searched quickly around him to make sure there were no flies. Cranky continued his story. “But the point is…I was a mess. I could barely talk to her. It took me all night to get enough courage to ask to see her again…but by then it was too late.”
S.B. gasped beneath his hooves. “Was she dead?”
“Did you eat lead paint as a foal or something?”
“But didn’t taste so bad…”
“Of course she wasn’t dead. But she had left. There was a note for me, but I never got it. I spent thirty years of my life looking for her, but if I had just been confident enough…well, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”
“But where you are isn’t a bad place, is it?”
“No,” admitted Cranky. “It isn’t. I just wish I could have gotten here earlier. And as butt-ugly as you are, I don’t want to see that happen to you too.”
“But my situation is not parallel. I love no donkey.”
“It’s not the donkey that counts! It’s just…” Cranky sighed. “You know what? You’ll figure it out eventually. You’re just going to have to trust that I know what I’m talking about.”
S.B. paused for a moment, and then took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “I will do my best to trust that.”
When they finally approached the schoolhouse, S.B. once again began to doubt if he could hold himself to that promise. There were children there, more than he had ever seen in one place, all with different colors of coats and manes and eyes. To him, it was astounding. His presence seemed to astound them as well, because they stopped what they were doing to stare at him.
This, of course, was profoundly uncomfortable, but different from the way adults stared. Adults had a great deal of experience and came to correct judgments of S.B.’s character instantly. They knew that he was a bad pony and a Mary Sue. Children, though, lacked the experience to pick up on that quickly. They stared with actual interest, as though S.B. were a strange and hideous insect in some jar.
Cranky led S.B. into the schoolhouse itself. Since class had not started yet, the building was empty save for the teacher. Almost as soon as the donkey and pony entered, she immediately shifted, hiding a flask of cider into her desk.
“What?” she said, looking up, confused. “Cranky? Why are you here? You’re a little old for school, aren’t you?”
“Did you just call me old? Or BALD?”
“No,” said the teacher, her face scrunching and eyes looking upward and to the left.
“Well, good.” He reached behind him and pushed S.B. forward. “I’m here to enroll a student.”
The teacher looked down at S.B., and S.B. saw the familiar look of recognition pass over her face followed by a look of strange concern. “Yeah,” she said, turning back to Cranky. “I don’t think this school is the best suited for somepony like that.”
“Oh, suuuure,” said Cranky, angrily. “I spend half my pension every year on property taxes to pay for this school, but as soon as I actually have a kid I want to have put in it, you’re suddenly full up!”
“That isn’t what I said- -”
“I’m fine with it,” said S.B.
The teacher nearly jumped out of her seat, causing S.B. to jump just as far. “It can TALK?!”
“No,” lied S.B. “I can’t. Not at all.”
“So, what,” continued Cranky, now apparently beginning a rant that caused him to ignore what was going on around him, “is this a pony-only school? You know, I bet if I actually had my own kids you wouldn’t even take them either. Because donkeys are too stupid to teach, right?”
“Now, wait just a minute!” said the teacher, standing up sharply. “I did not say that at ALL, and the Ponyville Department of Education does not condone racism! Except for Spoiled Rich, who is on the school board, unfortunately.”
“Unfortunate that she is on the schoolboard, or that she likes racisms?” asked S.B.
“Both, unfortunately,” grumbled the teacher. The teacher suddenly pointed at S.B. “But that is NOT a donkey. He’s not even your child!”
“So? I found him in a bush.”
“That- -just- -NO! That’s not how this WORKS! There’s paperwork! And- -and he hasn’t had his vaccinations!”
“His species doesn’t get the same sicknesses that ours does,” snapped Cranky. “He doesn’t need vaccinations.”
S.B.’s heart suddenly seemed to skip a beat. He looked up at Cranky, immediately realizing that the donkey KNEW- -and had perhaps recognized what he was since the very beginning.
The teacher sighed. “Look. Do you want me to put this bluntly? Because I can pretend to be Applejack. I do most weekends on date night anyway. I don’t want HIM- -” She pointed at S.B. “- -near my students. I don’t think it’s safe.”
“Why?” said Cranky.
“Because look at him! He’s probably just an adult in a child body who came here to flirt with children and to get validation from a peer group he has no business being in. Either that or he really is a kid and expects every filly to fawn over him because he’s so powerful and has such an edgy backstory.”
“That happens?” asked S.B., not sure if he felt as though he wanted to run or be fawned on by fillies.
“No, of course not!” The teacher’s words made S.B.’s little heart sink greatly, but he had expected as much. He knew how unpleasant he was. “That’s the point!”
“Ah,” said Cranky. “So you hate kids.”
One of the teacher’s eyes twitched. “No,” she said through her teeth. “I LOVE kids.” She lifted her rump. “Look at my FLANK.”
“I’m not into horses,” said Cranky.
The mare rolled her eyes. “Not the flank part of my flank, the CUTIE MARK. See? Three smiling flowers! It means I love children and should be a teacher!”
“That…doesn’t make any…sense?” asked S.B., confused.
“See! He’s already questioning my authority!”
“So what you’re telling me,” continued Cranky. “Is that you love kids.” He pointed at S.B. “And this is a kid. So…you hate some kids?”
“I didn’t say I hate- -I didn’t mean that- -FLOWERS!” The teacher plopped back down and now overtly removed her cider flask and took several long gulps until it was empty. She then took out another and drank half of it. “Alright,” she said, having calmed down somewhat. “Okay. Sure. Fine. I’ll give him a shot. ONE shot. But if he touches any of my students, he’s out. And reported to the militia.”
“I can’t go back to jail!” squeaked S.B. “If I go back- -they’ll give me the Chair for sure!”
The teacher blinked. “Wait. You were in jail? And they were going to use the Chair…on a child?”
S.B. drooped slightly. “It’s because I’m a bad pony. As you previously stated.”
A different expression crossed the teacher’s face, this one containing more than a little pity to temper her hesitation.
“Well,” said Cranky, “have fun, then.”
“Wait!” cried S.B. “Mr. Donkey, you can’t- -”
Before S.B. could stop Cranky from leaving, he was pulled to the side by the teacher.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “As long as you follow all the rules, you should be fine.”
“Rules? What rules?”
The teacher smiled. “There is only one rule: I am Cheerilee. And you will do what I tell you to. Got it?”
With a whimper, S.B. nodded, not liking where this was going.
A substantial puddle had quickly begun to grow on the floor. As far as S.B. knew, it was his own sweat pooling beneath him. He already hated school. His seat was uncomfortable, and the stress of just sitting there was most likely giving him gray hairs.
Then the students started filing into the room, and it got worse. S.B. just sat where he was, staring straight ahead and quivering as they paused for a moment, each after the other, and stared at him. Then, shrugging off the anomaly, took their seats. Some of them stopped to actively move their desks away from S.B., which he actually did not mind much.
After they had set up, Cheerilee began adjusting the notes for her lesson of the day. That was when one of the other students leaned in near S.B.
“Hey, new kid,” she said.
“Huh?” S.B. had nearly been in a semiconscious state from pure fright, but now slowly turned his head. As he did, he immediately found himself facing a large-eyed orange Pegasus filly who looked to be slightly older than he was. Almost immediately, he felt an extremely uncomfortable pain in his chest and believed that his heart may have stopped.
S.B. was not dying, though. Instead, he had just realized that the filly who had addressed him was completely and utterly adorable. Her orange coat contrasted perfectly with a violet mane and tail, the former of which was cut into a neat bob shaped like a feather that fell over her forehead. She had impressively large and alert eyes, and the tiniest fuzzy wings.
“Hey?” she repeated, now seeming a bit concerned that S.B. was staring at her.
“Herk!” said S.B. It was roughly the only sound he could manage to generate, and as soon as he realized that he was unable to use words, the red parts of his body blushed profusely. “Derp…derp derp derp…”
“Um…okay?”
“I…” S.B. put his head down on his desk. It did not fit well because of his central horn.
The filly’s eyes wandered for a moment and settled on S.B.’s flank. This suddenly made everything far worse, and he immediately felt extremely self-conscious and uncomfortable. She was by far the most attractive filly who had ever spoken to him- -and one of the only ones- -but they were still just children, and he did not like being looked at like that.
“Oh,” she said. “You don’t have a cutie mark, do you?”
“I- -I do,” said S.B., his voice almost unintelligible through his nervousness. “It’s just blanked out right now.”
“You blank out your cutie mark?” the filly seemed disgusted by this, but also intrigued. “Well that sounds like a cutie-mark problem if I’ve ever heard one- -”
“Scootaloo,” said Cheerilee, somewhat annoyed. “Do I look like I’m teaching a class in talking right now?”
“Um…maybe?” said Scootaloo. “I don’t know what that would look like, so…” Cheerilee glared at her, and Scootaloo pointed at S.B. “I was just going to say that the new kid doesn’t have any paper or pencil.”
“Supplies!” squeaked S.B. “I forgot the supplies!” Despite his embarrassment, his mind kept turning. “So I guess that means I can’t go to school today. I’m going to go- -”
“You don’t have to,” said Scootaloo. “I have extra.” She passed him a sheet of paper and a pencil.
“Thanks,” said S.B., at first sarcastically but then realizing with tremendous amazement that not only had this filly been kind enough to talk to him, but she had offered him supplies to borrow as well. Her generosity was so substantial that he was rendered speechless.
“Okay, class,” said Cheerilee. “As you can see, we have a new student. Right there.” She pointed at S.B., and the whole class slowly turned their heads toward him. S.B. recalled having several nightmares about this very situation.
“So, do you want to come up here and introduce yourself in front of the class?”
“N…no.”
“Well to bad. Because my school, my rules. Do it. Do it now!”
S.B. obeyed. He stood up and nearly collapsed from how badly his knees were shaking, but then almost robotically walked to the front of the room, feeling as though his mind had somehow jumped from his body and was watching him walk to the front against his will.
He then turned around and looked at the class, and had a sudden and very powerful urge to visit the little-colt’s room.
“Hel…hello,” he said. “My name is S.B.”
“More like S of a B!” shouted one of the students. The others laughed.
“Oh. I get it,” said S.B., feigning a laugh. He was lying; he had no idea what that meant.
“Well, go on,” said Cheerilee. “Tell them something about yourself.”
“I am S.B., and…and…”
“Hey, wait a minute, I know you!” said a student from the back of the class. “You’re that kid that took a leek right in the middle of the market!”
Now the room roared with laughter. S.B. hung his head, but finished his statement. “And I’m…a pony.”
The remainder of the school day went roughly about as well as S.B. had anticipated it would. He was not really prepared for school, and the lesson went completely over his head. Although he had the capacity to read somewhat, he did not know mathematics beyond counting on his hooves and had almost no capacity to write with his mouth. The other students were far ahead of him in every subject, and despite his desperate efforts to understand what in Equestria Cheerilee was talking about, he was lost within less than fifteen minutes.
This only led to S.B.’s great surprise when the lesson suddenly stopped, and S.B. was informed that the school was in recess. He knew from his repeated experiences with the courts what recess was, but he did not know that schools had one too.
By this point, though, he was more than happy to go outside. Once he was there, the schoolyard divided itself roughly as could be expected: the children playing together happily on one side, and S.B. left alone to watch them on the far side of a field. This actually suited all parties equally well: the children seemed not to want to approach S.B., and he was much more comfortable at a reasonable distance where he would not have to talk to them.
At range, though, S.B. was able to focus on a particular orange and violet blotch moving near the swings. Every time he would see her, he would feel nervous despite the distance between them. He understood that she had barely noticed him, but she had left a substantial impression on him. Talking to her was impossible, though; the best S.B. could hope to do was admire her from a distance, as admittedly creepy as that was.
As S.B. sat quietly in the grass wondering what it would be like to play with other children his own age, he heard a sudden rustling from behind him. He turned quickly to see a pair of eyes staring back from the darkness, and then realized that it was a familiar cat.
“Koshka!” he exclaimed. “You came back!”
The cat released a cat sound, and S.B. looked around suspiciously, trying to make sure that the terrifying pastel-yellow Pegasus was not nearby. When he was reasonably sure that she was not present, he reached out and hugged the large cat.
The cat did not respond much at first, except by gently purring. It was very soft. Then, suddenly, it released an unpleasant yowl and jumped back, climbing quickly into a tree.
“Koshka?” said S.B. “Where you go?”
“Hey, leek-boy,” said a voice behind S.B.
“Leek?” S.B. turned around and, much to his surprise, found himself facing a pig. Or at least that was what he thought at first; his vision was relatively poor in bright light, and after a few moments he realized that instead of facing a talking pig he was actually being addressed by a pink-colored pony wearing an oddly out of place tiara. She was accompanied by another filly who was wearing glasses and had both a coat and mane in a most unfortunate gray hue.
Both of them winced when they saw S.B.’s heterochromic, slit-pupiled eyes up close.
“Wow,” said the Pink one. “With those eyes, it’s no wonder you’re deaf.”
“I’m not deaf,” said S.B. “Nor does my name concern leeks, unfortunately.”
The pink pony frowned. “Wow. You talk really, REALLY weird.”
“Almost as if he doesn’t sound like a child at all,” noted the gray one.
“Oh,” said S.B. “I…I can try to talk less.”
“Not while I’m talking to you, you won’t,” said the pink one. “Where exactly did you come from, anyway? Somewhere were ponies don’t have mirrors?”
“Or from the depths of an excessively creative mind lacking greatly in self-awareness?” Both of them looked at the silver filly. “What? I have more cerebral capacity than the pair of you put together.”
“Which means she’s a little slow,” said the pink one, clearly not understanding the definition of ‘cerebral’. “That’s why she isn’t supposed to TALK unless I TELL her too.”
The silver filly winced and nodded. “Sorry.”
“Now I can’t remember what I was talking about…oh yeah.” She turned back to S.B. “My name is Diamond Tiara. My father owns Rich’s Barnyard Bargains, and I am the richest filly in all of Ponyville. It is also a scientific fact that I am Best Pony.”
“Best Pony?”
Diamond Tiara smiled. “Oh, why I’m so glad to hear that you think so. Even if the opinion of lesser ponies doesn’t matter at all.”
“And I’m Silver Spoon,” said the other filly.
“And what did I say about lesser ponies talking out of turn?”
Silver Spoon hung her head in shame.
“It’s nice to meet you,” said S.B., having a difficult time making the assertion sound convincing.
“Yes. I know it is.”
“But I am wondering, why are you here, and not with the real children?”
“You mean them?” Diamond Tiara looked over her shoulder with disgust. “Eew. Like I would play with those dirty urchins.”
“That and they don’t like us very much,” said Silver Spoon.
“I don’t mind either of you. You’re both so pretty. I wish I looked like you.”
Diamond Tiara blinked, somewhat surprised that somepony had actually complimented her, even if it had been in a disturbingly awkward way. “Oh. Well, yes. Most of Ponyville- -I mean most of EQUESTRIA feels that way. Because I am that famous.”
“Clearly,” said Silver Spoon, sarcastically.
S.B., unlike Silver Spoon, actually believed Diamond Tiara. His eyes grew wide in awe and amazement that a pony who was so famous and so daring as to wear tiaras to school would talk to him.
“And that’s why I want to help you,” said Diamond Tiara, smiling in a way that make the cat in the tree growl. “I noticed you were staring at Scootaloo.”
“What?” cried S.B., having not thought that anyone would have been able to see him doing so from a distance. “I didn’t mean to! I mean, I think she’s cute but- -no, I didn’t say that! I was just looking over there and…” He sighed. “And I’m sorry. I’ll turn the other way now. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
He reversed his direction, turning toward the brush on the edge of the field. Because of this, he was now facing away from Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.
“Look at those wings,” muttered Diamond Tiara in disgust. “And I thought this view would be better!”
“I don’t mind,” said Silver Spoon, smiling. “Just look at that…tail. So ploofy.” She reached out her hoof slowly. “I’m gonna touch it,” she whispered.
Diamond Tiara slapped her hoof away.
“That isn’t what I came here to say,” said Diamond Tiara. “What I came to say is that Scootaloo told me that she has a bit of a crush on you.”
“Really?” said S.B. “That’s not unusual, though.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Many ponies want to be crushing me. I tend to get stomped on a lot.”
“Seriously?” said Silver Spoon. “Isn’t that, like, child abuse or something?”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Diamond Tiara, as per usual ignoring Silver Spoon. “What I meant is, she thinks you’re cute.”
“She does?”
“Oh yeah. Big time. She wants to go out on a date with you and everything.”
“I don’t eat fruit. It makes me ill. And if she things I’m cute, why does she want to crush me?”
“Some fillies are just into that sort of thing,” said Silver Spoon.
“Ugh,” said Diamond Tiara, putting her hoof on the bridge of her nose. “This is like trying to talk to Snails on a cold day. Look, leek-boy. She wants to be your special somepony. Do I have to spell that out for you?”
“Hopefully not,” said Silver Spoon. “She’s not a good speller.”
“She…she does?” said S.B., now understanding what Diamond Tiara meant. He looked out at the playground wistfully, and quickly found Scootaloo preparing to jump off the top of the swing set. “Well that’s…unfortunate.”
“Why? You like her, don’t you?”
“Yes,” admitted S.B. “But I’m so ugly.”
“She’s Scootaloo. Trust me, her standards are really, really low. But you just have to ask her out.”
“Out where?”
“On a date.”
“Wait, so we are back to fruit now?”
Diamond Tiara looked as though she were about to punch S.B., but Silver Spoon stopped her.
“She means that you need to ask Scootaloo to be your fillyfriend.”
“Oh,” said S.B. “You should have just said that.”
“I DID,” snapped Diamond Tiara. She took a deep breath, and then restored her smile. “The thing is, Scootaloo’s a Pegasus pony. That means you can’t just go up to her and ask her.”
“I can’t?”
“No. There’s a ritual.”
“Not that I’m going to ask her,” said S.B. “But what is entailed by the ritual?”
“It’s easy, really.” Diamond Tiara’s smile grew larger and more genuine, yet somehow it made S.B. feel more uneasy than before. “You just have to go up behind her…and bite her wings.”
“Bite her wings?” said S.B., surprised by even the thought of such a bizarre action. “But that would hurt her!”
“No, it doesn’t. Trust me. Pegasus fillies love it. And I talked to her, and she totally wants you to do it.”
“Really?”
“Would I lie to you? We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Friends?” S.B. had never had a friend before, unless he counted Cranky and Matilda, but they tended not to count because they were so much older.
“Of course. And as a friend, I feel I should tell you how important this is to her. She really wants to go out with you, and she’d be really, really sad if you don’t do this.”
“I don’t want to give Scootaloo the sad,” admitted S.B. “Not after she have me paper and the pencil.”
“See?” said Diamond Tiara, smiling. “Then just go up behind her and bite those little useless wings.”
The thought of it still made S.B. tremendously nervous, but he nodded. “I have to…I have to think about this for a little.”
“Don’t think too long,” warned Diamond Tiara. “If you do, she might give up on you completely.”
“O…okay…”
S.B. started to walk off, his eyes focused on the grass below as he ruminated on the seemingly impossible task that had been set out before him.
After he was out of earshot, Silver Spoon leaned in close to her only friend. “I can’t believe you actually did that.”
“What? Come on, Silver, lighten up. This will be hilarious.”
“There’s no way he’s actually going to do it.”
“Watch,” said Diamond Tiara, smiling evilly. “Just you watch…”
The second half of the day went worse than the first. Now S.B. was not only confused by the lesson, but incredibly nervous about the revelation that his new friends had given him about Scootaloo’s feelings. Sitting next to her was almost impossible. S.B. rapidly found himself wishing that things had just stayed the way they were, with him admiring Scootaloo from a distance but never having to actually talk to her, or to do such an outlandish ritual.
Still, the whole time, he found his eyes drifting toward the wings on her back. They were tiny feathery things and looked so fragile. It was hard to believe that she expected- - and WANTED- - him to bite them, but S.B. had no reason to doubt Diamond Tiara.
When class ended, S.B. almost did not want to leave, but once again felt himself standing in an almost robotic way. He gathered his one sheet of paper and his one pencil and followed the other students out. As they went their different ways, he fell into step behind Scootaloo and two of her friends.
S.B. hung back a distance, mostly from his nervousness, but also because one of Scootaloo’s friends was a white unicorn. White unicorns were sacred to the Yellow One, and as such S.B. was very apprehensive around them. That, and they tended to use painful spells on him.
For a moment, he considered just leaving everything as it was. He would just turn and leave, and go back to Cranky and Matilda’s home. For all he knew, Matilda had found a nice orphanage for him where he could go and do orphan things like being cold and eating gruel. That was when he remembered what Cranky had said. Suddenly, it all made much more sense. S.B. needed confidence, and to be brave enough to do what needed to be done. This situation, if Diamond Tiara was right, was not unlike that that Cranky had faced decades before. If he allowed Scootaloo to escape, he might have to spend another quarter century trying to find her again after his missed chance.
This gave him the courage he needed. He approached the trio of ponies, and then took a deep breath, hoping that he would be able to show his childish affection toward the filly successfully.
Then he jumped, spreading his wings as though he could actually fly, and leapt onto Scootaloo’s back.
Scootaloo immediately screamed in surprise. “What are you doing, get off me- -” Her words then collapsed into a high, agonized scream as S.B. bit down on her tiny wings. He was surprised to find that there was actually very little flesh beneath the feathers, but not surprised to find that they did not taste good at all. He bit down tightly, though, driving his teeth into what little stump of flesh there was and gagging on the feathers.
The effect was not what he expected. Scootaloo, now crying and panicking, desperately tried to throw him off. Confused, S.B. released her and was thrown to the ground. He looked up and saw Scootaloo staring back at him. From the look of fear in her eyes and the tears, S.B. immediately realized that he had performed the ritual wrong.
“What is wrong with you?!” she cried.
S.B. was about to answer, but he did not get a chance to. Scootaloo’s earth-pony friend turned and bucked him directly in the face. The force was tremendous, and S.B. saw stars and flashes of light as he was thrown sprawling over the ground. In his now concussed state, he was not able to find the words to apologize.
He had only partially recovered when he saw the flash of purple approaching him quickly, and then felt the familiar sensation of bristles and wood against his body as Cheerilee began beating him with a broom.
“What did I tell you!” she cried.
“Ow! Stop! You’re hurting me!”
“Get- -OUT!” Shouted Cheerilee. “GO! GO AWAY! Don’t you dare touch my students!”
S.B., now confused, crying, and injured, stood up and started to run, taking one more hard blow from the broom as he did. He did not understand what was happening, or why it had gone wrong, but he knew that he had ruined everything. All he could do now was run and hide. Attempting to go to school and be a normal child had been a terrible mistake.