And so the Cutie Mark Crusaders went on their way, walking together along the outskirts of Ponyville. The cheerful little houses and stores of Ponyville flanked them on the right, while empty fields and grasslands accompanied them on the left. Most of the stores were closed, and their owners doing something leisurely. The farmlands were deserted as well. Sometimes the farmer ponies hadn’t even taken the effort to clear away their tools properly, so plows and hoes were scattered on the soil.
But the Cutie Mark Crusaders had little interest in all of this, for they were lost in thought and excitement.
At first Scootaloo didn’t stop talking and emphasizing just how cool Vinyl Scratch was. She talked and talked, but in the end, Sweetie Belle found a very clever way of silencing her.
“You’re sounding as if DJ PON-3 is even cooler than Rainbow Dash,” Sweetie said, accompanying her words with a sly smile.
Scootaloo wanted to say something back, but that question caught her off guard. “She is… eh… well. Now Rainbow Dash, she is… also…”
“Yes?” Sweetie Belle said, stressing the ‘e’ as long as she could. Apple Bloom suppressed a chuckle.
“They are both… eh…” And then Scootaloo thought she’d found a compromise. “They’re impossible to compare, because they are doing two entirely different awesome things. That’s why their awesomeness levels are… eh… incomparable.” A confident smile ended her speech, but she didn’t say much more during their walk.
A gentle, flowing stream made a cheerful sound as the Cutie Mark Crusaders crossed a bridge. For a moment, Scootaloo considered jumping in, dipping her head, or at least take a small sip, but then she thought that she would look like an idiot. Furthermore, she knew that Sweetie Belle would probably find it inappropriate.
Or perhaps Scootaloo could get a nice cold glass of lemonade, for the Crusaders had reached their destination. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, who had never seen the musician’s house before, let out a small gasp, as the house came into view. It was a piece of pure expression on its own—or actually two pieces of pure expression on their own. It looked as if the builders had made two houses, couldn’t decide which one was the most beautiful, and so cut them both in half and glued them together. The left side of the house had a classy appearance, with lots of warm oak wood dotted by neat, square windows. The right side, obviously Vinyl Scratch’s side, was totally different. Bright purple stones and long, stretched-out windows indicated that whoever lived in that part of the house liked her music as loud and as experimental as possible.
They stood and watched the house for a while, wondering how it would look like from the inside, for even Sweetie Belle hadn’t been inside. The house was surrounded by neat bushes, cut and groomed like musical notes—obviously Octavia’s work.
Scootaloo wondered where the music was. In her mind, there would be lights flashing and smoke floating and disco balls turning—and above all—music pouring out of every open window the house had. But there was nothing. Complete silence.
Sweetie Belle, in turn, had expected soothing cello notes floating around the house, enveloping it in a cloak of pure class and grace. Or perhaps there would be rapid piano arpeggios resounding, making even the birds stop their singing and listen attentively to the beautiful sound. But there was nothing. Complete silence.
Both Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle wondered whether the two musicians were at home at all. That would be quite a disappointment, for they knew that they would have to come up with something else to do. Then it would be back to the drawing table for them. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were just about to voice their doubts to Apple Bloom when they noticed that she was gone. A quick glance around revealed that she was already at the house, but not at the front door. Apple Bloom was jumping up and down beneath one of the high windows. It was just a few inches too high to peek through, which was exactly what Apple Bloom intended to do.
“What in Equestria are you doing?” Sweetie Belle said, making sure to keep her voice to a whisper.
Apple Bloom didn’t take her eyes off the window. “Give me a lift so I can see something.”
“Okay,” Scootaloo said, but Sweetie Belle stepped in her way. “No! We can’t do that!”
“Why not?” Apple Bloom said.
“Because then we are be spying, and spying is very rude.” Sweetie Belle said, shaking her head. “What would Octavia think of us when she sees us like that? She holds etiquette very high. We have to behave!”
Apple Bloom stopped jumping and looked at her friends. “Okay, you’re right. The way you told me about Octavia, I guess she might be a little like Rarity. You know, why don’t you take the word when we meet her?”
“Good idea,” Sweetie Belle said.
But now Scootaloo looked up at the window, wishing that she could fly to take a peek—just a tiny one. “Yeah, but how are we going to find out if they’re at home or not?”
“By knocking on the door softly and politely waiting until they open,” Sweetie Belle said, casting a lecturing glance towards Scootaloo.
The three fillies were just about to walk to the path towards the front door again, when they heard sounds coming from the musician’s house. It wasn’t music, however; it was voices.
“Oh my, Vinyl,” said a high mare’s voice. “Why in Equestria do you need to be so heavy?”
“Hey, listen, guys,” Apple Bloom said. “It’s Octavia, I think.”
Scootaloo trotted next to Apple Bloom, leaning against the wood of the house. In her mind, Sweetie Belle weighed her morals. Was eavesdropping rude as well? Of course it was, but curiosity won Sweetie’s struggle, so she joined her friends underneath the open window as well. Sweetie Belle took a listen, and recognized the smooth, soprano voice of Octavia Melody. She was obviously doing something very hard, because her voice was deformed into heavy moans.
“Hey, you agreed to play along,” another voice, one much lower, said.
Sweetie Belle exchanged a glance with Apple Bloom. “Oh my! They are working on a new song… together?” Her statement ended in a question, because she knew that only rarely happened; the two had entirely different musical tastes.
“Yes, but normally you just jump up yourself. Why do I have to help you now?” Octavia said.
“Because… I want that?”
Sweetie Belle’s face grew worried. “Oh no! They are arguing. I think now would be a bad time to pay them a visit, I think.”
“Aw!” Scootaloo said. “But then we’ll still be bored as hay today.”
“Yes, but—“
“Come on, Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo said, glancing intently at her friend with big, pleading eyes. “Can’t we at least just say hello quickly? Maybe they’ll forget all about it once they’re busy teaching us some music. Maybe they need the distraction right now, so they can both cool down. Come on, Sweetie Belle, please, please, please?”
Now Apple Bloom put on her puppy dog glare as well, the one she had used to convince Twilight Sparkle to stay and have lunch with the Apple family, back when she first met her. Nopony could say no to such a face, and Sweetie Belle was no exception.
“Alright, alright,” she said. “Just a quick hello, but if they really don’t have time for us, we go and come back another day. Satisfied?”
A quick nod followed by a cloud of dust was the answer Sweetie Belle got, as Apple Bloom and Scootaloo rushed back towards the path. Sweetie Belle had just enough time to catch up with them before they reached the door.
Even the door was painted two different colors: electric purple and rustic brown. But that wasn’t the most remarkable about it. What was most remarkable, was that the door was open.
“There. Done. Are you a happy filly now?” Octavia’s voice said, flowing through the slit of the open door.
“Yes,” Vinyl Scratch said.
Before Sweetie Belle could say ‘no,’ it was already too late. Scootaloo opened the door. It opened with a small, almost musical creak. The next instant, the two musicians came into view, frozen in place just like the Cutie Mark Crusaders, because they were doing something that neither of the CMC’s had expected them to be doing—and it had nothing to do with music. Nothing at all.
No turntable, but a changing table. No instruments, but baby accessories. No pile of records, but a cradle.
And there she was, Vinyl Scratch, of whom Scootaloo thought a close second to Rainbow Dash in awesomeness, dressed up as a foal. She was lying on top of the changing table, wearing nothing but a little pink mutch, a cute dress, and a pink diaper wrapped around her flank.
DJ Foal-3.
The atmosphere was like a cake with a silent base, an awkward layer of cream, and topped with an unbelievable cherry. Everypony was silent, looking, staring in amazement to one another. None of them knew what to think. Except maybe Vinyl Scratch, who would wish that she had checked the door—and on second thought, the window as well, just to be sure.
But now she could do nothing, because she couldn’t turn back time. She wished she could. The shock had paralyzed all ponies.
The shock was as big as a thunderbolt for Scootaloo. Here she was, her favorite musician, as awesome as a musician can be, in foal clothes and diapered. Scootaloo’s imagination ran wild with whatever she had just heard beneath the window. But actually, it was all too clear what Octavia had been doing to Vinyl Scratch. The picture didn’t lie. Scootaloo tried her best to whisk the thought away, to forget what she was seeing, but it was in vain, as her eyes were fixed on the scene. Like mannequins in a display for foal clothing they stood. Scootaloo figured that she would never again look with the same eyes to a performance of DJ PON-3 again.
Suddenly, Vinyl Scratch sprang into action—literally. With one impossibly agile jump, she moved from the changing table to Octavia, and hid behind her. Of course it didn’t really matter, because both Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle could still see her standing. They couldn’t really guess what Vinyl Scratch wanted to accomplish with the move, but it quickly became clear. As Vinyl saw that she was just making a fool of herself, she turned around. The last thing the Crusaders saw of her was a blue tail disappearing upstairs, waving frantically until the DJ reached the second floor. The last thing they heard of her was a door closing, and the sound of a lock carefully handled.
Octavia Melody hadn’t even followed her friend with her eyes, but kept staring at the three little fillies in the doorway, guessing if they guessed what they had just been doing together.
The CMC’s weren’t quite sure what to do. The whole idea of becoming musicians seemed to have bumped against a barrier of awkwardness. A barrier which would take forever to pass, even if they would leave. At last, Scootaloo diverted her eyes from Octavia, and looked at her friends, who still shared a similar blank expression on their faces. Very carefully, as if her words would only increase the uncomfortable atmosphere, Scootaloo said, “Shall we… eh…”
Octavia unfroze like a snowpony in summertime. Her mouth started to form words, but she couldn’t say a thing yet.
Now Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom also turned their gazes to one another. Scootaloo nudged with her head towards the door. ‘Let’s get the hay out of here’ was what the nudge said. Before she turned around, Scootaloo looked one more time at Octavia. “We… eh… We’re really sorry to bother you, Miss Octavia. We… eh…”
“Yes,” Sweetie Belle said, and forced a smile. “We were just leaving, and—”
“And we see that this is not a good time to visit,” Apple Bloom added. “So I guess we’ll just come back later.” Although they all knew for certain that they probably wouldn’t.
But before they could turn around and head through the door, Octavia was there, blocking the way with her forelegs outstretched. “No, don’t go!”
The Crusaders said nothing but just gave her an odd stare.
“I mean… eh…” Octavia dropped to all fours again, trying not to look like a savage. “I mean, please stay. Then I can… well… explain things.”
As much as the Cutie Mark Crusaders wanted to know what had just happened, a big part of them also wanted to get out of this strange situation.
Octavia didn’t wait for an answer. In one motion, she scooped up all three fillies, planted them on an antique couch on her side of the house, and closed the door.
The Crusaders were too startled by all these things happening so fast, that they sat dazed for a moment. “Eh… Miss Octavia,” Sweetie Belle said, “can we perhaps—“
“Get something to drink? Of course,” Octavia said, although that was not at all what Sweetie Belle wanted to say. She rushed to the kitchen, and came back with three glasses of lemonade and a glass of red wine for herself; she really needed it. Then she grabbed a large armchair and shoved it closer to the couch. Octavia sat down. She allowed herself a few breaths of air and a sip of wine, just to calm down. She had no idea how this conversation would start, how it would end, or how in Equestria she was going to explain Vinyl’s outfit. Octavia breathed in, breathed out, closed her eyes, and gathered her wits to organize her thoughts. Just in time.
“Eh… What the hay did we just see?” Scootaloo said, whereupon she got an elbow from Sweetie Belle and a hissed, “Mind your language.”
Octavia motioned with her hooves to calm down. “No. Your friend is right… Sweetie Belle, wasn’t it?”
“It is,” Sweetie Belle said. “And these are my friends Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, and together we are the Cutie Mark Crusaders.” Had the circumstances been different, they would have shouted those last three words, undoubtedly followed by a ‘yay.’ Now, however, Sweetie Belle found that the situation was inappropriate at best. There was no need of any more fuss.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Octavia said, trying her best to sound as normal as possible, as if she were introducing herself to any other random pony who hadn’t just seen her changing Vinyl Scratch. “What I wanted to say is that you are quite right, Scootaloo. You deserve a proper explanation of my and Vinyl’s actions.”
“You were changing her, right?” Apple Bloom blurted out without much subtlety.
Octavia lowered her gaze to the carpet, as red as her wine and her blush. “I was.”
More awkwardness radiated through the little house. The Crusader’s weren’t sure where the source of it was; at the changing table or at Octavia herself.
Scootaloo proved to be best steeled against the awkwardness. “Why would you do that? And why was she dressed up like a foal?”
Actually, the answer was quite simple. Octavia had a very good reason to do so. She just needed to find the words with which to explain it all without amplifying the awkwardness again. At that moment Octavia wished she were a writer, so she could say exactly why, with the right words at the right time. Or perhaps she would rather be a character in the book of the writer, so she could blush, close the book, and forget about that one strange scene after a day or two. Taking a sip of wine and letting out a sigh, she started to just tell what she wanted them to know, in her own words.
“You see… No, let me start again. Vinyl, she… No, wrong again.” Octavia’s eyes darted about, even though the carpet was just a monotonous red, and there was nothing to see there.
“Why don’t you tell us the name of your game, Miss Melody?” Sweetie Belle said.
Octavia stopped staring at the carpet and looked instead at Sweetie Belle. “It’s… it’s not a game, my dear Sweetie. It’s… it’s like a play. Yes! A theater play.”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders let out a collective sigh. It was just repetition for a theater play. Apparently, Vinyl Scratch and Octavia had become members of the Ponyville Theater Group and were just rehearsing. They had found a new hobby beside music. They wanted to try out something else. There was nothing to worry about; it wasn’t real at all.
Octavia could have just let it lie like that, as she guessed their thoughts. But she reckoned that to be unfair, and she hated lying. That’s why she shattered their easy and oh so comfortable excuse. “I’m really sorry, everypony, but it’s not what you think it is. It’s not a literal theater play, but role-play. Foal play is what it’s called, and it’s actually much more normal than you all think.”
Hearing these words, the CMC’s were once again listening attentively and waiting for a proper explanation. If it wasn’t a rehearsal for a theater play, then what was it?
“Foal play?” Sweetie Belle repeated, trying out the new word.
“Indeed.” Octavia nodded gravely. “Sometimes Vinyl Scratch and I pretend that we are a family. She is the foal, I am the mother, and sometimes Bon Bo—“ but then she stopped short, realizing her mistake.
Apple Bloom knew Bon Bon quite well, having delivered countless crates of caramel apples to her store. “Wait… Bon Bon also joins in?”
Octavia Melody let out a moan and slapped her hoof to her forehead. Another sigh and a sip of wine later, Octavia continued. “Yes she does. Just don’t tell her I told you about that. That will be our little secret. In fact, don’t mention Vinyl and I as well, agreed?”
“Why not?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Well… Some ponies find it quite odd what we’re doing sometimes. You saw it yourself, it’s quite an unexpected surprise, isn’t it?” And Octavia actually managed to smile a bit.
“Yes, it was quite a surprise,” Scootaloo said. And then something extraordinary happened: they laughed together. Instead of music, the whole house got enveloped in a burst of cheerful, light-hearted laughter. That was good, and Octavia knew that. It meant that the whole idea of foal playing was now no longer shocking, but just awkward and silly and funny. But it was a different kind of awkward. The kind of awkward you can laugh about, rather than turning red of shame and walking out the room. Their burst of laughter eased the atmosphere, and reduced the awkwardness levels to almost zero.
When the laughter dissipated and only soft chuckles remained, Apple Bloom spoke up. “So actually you’re all one big family. That actually sounds kinda… nice.”
“It is,” Octavia said. Then she suddenly looked at the floor again, but not out of shame. “Sometimes Vinyl Scratch needs it.”
“Why?” Apple Bloom said.
“Because… Vinyl never had a real family.”
A grave silence, almost as heavy as the awkwardness upon the discovery of Vinyl and Octavia’s foal play, hung in the air. The Cutie Mark Crusaders knew that something very sensitive was about to be told. They were respectfully silent and waited until Octavia continued speaking.
“Vinyl Scratch had been orphaned when she was still very young. She had never met her real parents, although sometimes she dreams about them. She never had a real family. Of course there were her friends who she trusted and with whom she did all kinds of crazy things, but the love of a real family has left a big gap in Vinyl’s heart.” Octavia paused to take a sip of wine. “That’s why she also likes to go to those wild ‘raves’ of her. Her childhood in the foster home was so dreary and boring, that she now longs for crazy parties. I don’t think she is traumatized or anything like that. After all, her youth helped her to become what she is now: a DJ. But the gap in her heart still stayed there, and sometimes the pain is very severe. That’s when we foal play, to make her feel like she has a family. To make her redo her childhood. To mend the gap in her heart.”
Octavia let a pause fall, in which the Cutie Mark Crusaders took in her words. Not even Scootaloo, who went to some of her raves and knew Vinyl Scratch best, could have guessed that this sad story accompanied the DJ wherever she went. Of course, she had only seen DJ PON-3, and not the pony behind the shades. Suddenly, Scootaloo felt strange. She wanted to jump up, bolt through the door or out the window—it didn’t matter. She wanted to get out of here. Something in Octavia’s story about Vinyl Scratch made her feel very weird—the bad kind of weird. She shook a little. One of her wings dropped a small feather. Luckily, nopony noticed.
“Wow. That’s actually really sweet of you,” Apple Bloom said. “Now I understand everything. Foal play isn’t weird, it’s just a kind of… healing.”
“On a spiritual level,” Sweetie Belle added.
“Yes! Yes, that’s right.” Octavia’s voice revealed the delight she felt at the CMC’s understanding. She had told nothing but the truth. “And it’s not only changing her, but we also do many other things. We go out for walks sometimes—making sure to take the back roads, of course—or we play games foals play, or Bon Bon and I feed her, or tuck her in when it’s bedtime…”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders could visualize exactly what Octavia told them, although it took Scootaloo some effort to see her awesome DJ in a crib, covered under soft pink blankets by mama Octavia and mama Bon Bon.
“So you’re taking care of her,” Apple Bloom said.
“Indeed I do.” Octavia smiled. “And we’re all having so much fun doing it. When you have so much fun and you can see that it helps somepony else, you quickly forget just how strange the things that you’re doing really are.”
“Strange for others, but not for us,” Apple Bloom said, her voice resolute. “Right, Sweetie Belle?”
“Indeed,” Sweetie said. “It might be strange at first, but as long as it helps Vinyl Scratch, who cares what you do?”
Octavia sighed once again, but this time it was not a heavy sigh. “Thank you all so much for your understanding. I know it must have been quite a shock when you saw us like that. Why did you come here in the first place, if I may ask? Do you need help with your singing, Sweetie Belle?”
“Actually we were wondering whether you could give us music lessons together with Vinyl Scratch,” Sweetie Belle said. “But we totally understand if that’s not possible at the moment…”
Octavia cast a quick glance in the direction of the staircase, and then looked back at Sweetie Belle. “I’m so sorry, Sweetie, but that will have to be another time. First I will have a good, long talk with Vinyl Scratch; that would probably be the best thing to do right now. Perhaps we can schedule some lessons next week, or the week after. I would be delighted to teach you all the joys of making music.”
Sweetie Belle jumped up. “Oh! Thank you so much, Miss Melody.”
Octavia Melody waved her hoof. “You can call me Octavia, Sweetie Belle. We are all friends now, aren’t we? Friends with a secret.”
“Yup. Friends with a secret,” Apple Bloom repeated.
“Splendid.” Octavia stood up from her seat. “Would you all like to have some more lemonade?” But then she looked at their glasses, which were all still full. Only her own glass was empty.
“No thank you, Miss Mel—eh, Octavia,” Sweetie Belle said. “We’re on a mission!”
“Aw, the spirit of the young,” Octavia said, and walked with them to the door.
Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo said goodbye, but Scootaloo didn’t immediately trot off the path and in the direction of their clubhouse. She lingered in the doorway, trying to meet the gaze of Octavia.
“What is it, little Scootaloo?” Octavia asked, a bit taken aback by the Scootaloo’s serious gaze.
Scootaloo looked ahead. The rest of her friends were already far away, out of earshot. She waited a few seconds more, and then said, “Octavia, can I see Vinyl Scratch for a moment? Just for a few minutes?”
Octavia considered Scootaloo’s request in her mind, but made a decision. “I’m sorry, Scootaloo, but I really think that Vinyl Scratch needs to be alone. She will need some time to get comfortable again with what we do, perhaps. But you can always speak to me if you want, or you can see her at your music lesson.”
A small nod came from Scootaloo. “I understand.”
Octavia said goodbye once more before she closed the door, and only when the click of the handle could be heard, did Scootaloo walk in the same direction her friends had taken. Her head hung low and her step was slow and uneven. Thoughts swirled through her head, thoughts of her own. The gloom didn’t leave her until she caught up with her friends. They seemed to be jumping cheerfully again for some reason, and didn’t even ask why Scootaloo had delayed. Scootaloo would find out why soon enough.
* *
Once the door closed and the house became once again silent, Octavia heard a faint shuffling coming from the stairway.
“Are… are they gone?” Vinyl Scratch said, as her head peeked from above.
Octavia smiled. “Yes they are, Scratchy. Come down, then I will tell you all that happened.”
Vinyl Scratch didn’t move and let out a loud yawn.
“Uh-oh. It looks like somepony needs to do a little nap, doesn’t it?” Octavia said.
Vinyl nodded slowly. “Would you… Would you like to play me a lullaby?”
Once again, Octavia smiled a warm smile; a mother’s smile. “Of course sweetheart,” She said, and walked towards her cello case.