The car spun on the car park, leaving traces of tyres in the snow and skidding to a halt right next to another vehicle. Indigo turned off the engine and looked at Sunny Flare, who was slightly pale.
“I know you get crazy when you see the first snow, but contain your enthusiasm,” Sunny muttered. “If you crash into something, Cinch will find a way to somehow make it my fault and I’m done.”
“Don’t worry,” Indigo replied. “Unlike my certain friend, I didn’t mow down a lamppost when my parents gave me a car.”
“That doesn’t make you immune to accidents.” Sunny got out of the car and nearly fell down, slipping on the snow. “Do you even have winter tyres?”
“Of course,” Indigo replied. “Bulk helped me replace them.”
“Yeah, because that sounds pretty reliable.” Sunny muttered as they walked across the car park. “Guess you then had sex in the garage or something, and forgot to tighten the nuts and one day the wheels are gonna fall off at the full speed and the paramedics will scrape us off the wall. No, thanks. I at least want to look good in a coffin.”
“Nah, we made it to Bulk’s bedroom,” Indigo replied. “After checking that Featherweight was away, that is.”
Sunny stopped and looked at Indigo. “That’s more than I wanted to know.”
“You started it.” Indigo smirked. “And you don’t want to know what we did in my car…”
Sunny winced, shuddering. “Gross!”
“Well, that’s just gross,” Flash muttered, staring at his phone. Several people walking down the corridor looked at him, making him smile sheepishly.
“Did someone sext you?” Bulk asked. “I always knew your bassist was weird.”
“Not him.” Flash showed his phone to Bulk. “Muffins.”
“That’s indeed gross,” Bulk muttered, raising his eyebrows. “I mean, weisswurst and bacon looks fine, but why putting pineapple on it? And, umm… Peanut butter?”
“Somebody, somewhere, probably finds that tasty.” Flash shrugged. “Or maybe she sent me this so I could save her with my superior cooking skills.”
Bulk smirked. “You’d better take her to some restaurant. Unless you think hospitals are the best place for a date.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my cooking,” Flash said. “I only can’t bake cakes. Somehow, I always end up with bread.”
Bulk shook his head. “Damn. Now I wonder what’d happen if you two ended up in a kitchen. Guess we’d have to fight the results later.”
Flash nodded. “Dude, that’d make for a really weird comic book.”
“Did someone mention a comic book?” Sandalwood joined them, carrying a stack of papers. “I tried to draw one, once. Then my kindergarten teacher took away my crayons and told my parents to take me to a psychologist.” He shrugged. “Guess eldritch horror doesn’t sell in our generation.”
“Why do you even need those?” Flash asked, staring at Sandalwood's papers—mostly colourful leaflets—and took one of them. “Studying for an exam in advertising or what?”
“Nah, most of them are Starlight’s,” Sandalwood replied. “Except of this one. I took it from some freezing cutie.”
Flash looked at the leaflet. “Our Town Ski Resort,” he read. “Snow guaranteed, perfect place for spending New Year’s Eve, and so on, and so forth. Great atmosphere, cheap prices, stuff like that. I wonder where’s the catch?”
“They eat people,” Sandalwood replied. “Though we were saying the same about Fort McColt, and they didn’t eat us yet.” He turned to Bulk. “Not that I’d mind being eaten by your cousins.”
“Maybe because they know you’re poisonous,” Bulk muttered.
Flash gave the leaflet back to Sandalwood. “On a side note, we don’t have any plans for New Year yet.”
Bulk chuckled. “It’s November. No one does.”
“I do,” Sandalwood said. “Death by snu-snu.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Bulk smirked.
“I didn’t invite you…” Sandalwood backpedalled, nearly dropping the leaflets.
“I really didn’t want that mental image.” Flash shuddered. “So, anyway, anyone’s up for some skiing?”
The door to a nearby classroom suddenly broke in half. A giant cloud of smoke seeped through the hole, followed by a girl wearing a charred labcoat.
“I love skiing,” she muttered before fainting, conveniently landing in Flash’s arms.
“Muffins?” Flash asked. “What were you doing in the chemistry lab during the break?”
Muffins opened one eye. “Pancakes.”
Flash looked at Sandalwood and Bulk, who shrugged in perfect synch. “Nevermind…”
The snow kept falling when the school ended and since Sour Sweet’s puny car refused to work in low temperature, Indigo ended up offering her a lift. As Sour Sweet usually drove Lemon home, this soon led to Indigo giving everyone a lift.
“I swear, if you crash, I’ll kill you,” Sour Sweet muttered, as they drove through the blizzard.
Indigo blinked, trying to find the road while seeing almost nothing. “You can always go home by foot,” she muttered. “What the hell is with that weather?”
Sugarcoat, who was sitting in the backseat, stuck between Sunny Flare and Lemon, pushed them aside to grab her phone. “The weather app says ‘mild snow’. Probably because they forgot to put ‘fucking apocalypse’ in there…”
“You needed an app to check if it was snowing?” Sunny rolled her eyes. “Even I can see the weather without an app and I designed one to keep track of toilet paper use.”
“Will it work on my phone?” Lemon asked. “It has that other operating system…”
Sunny shook her head. “May be a problem, as this system is already full of shit…”
“Shut up!” Indigo exclaimed. “I’m really gonna crash because of you…”
“You’re driving ten miles per hour,” Sugarcoat said.
“That’ll still leave a dent in my car…”
“And your pride, I guess…” Sugarcoat shrugged.
“Could you go faster?” Sour Sweet asked. “Some little shit wants to die…”
“What the–” Indigo looked forward and pushed the brake. The car didn’t stop. The brake pedal thrashed under her foot, as ABS kicked in; several lights flashed on the control board as track control and other electronics joined it to stop the car, skidding along the road.
Finally, it stopped inches from the guy standing in the middle of the road with a camera. When she recognised him, Indigo opened the door and rushed to him, her shoes slipping on the snow.
“Featherweight, you retarded dickhead, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“It’s snowy, winter surprised the roadworkers, so I’m taking photos,” Featherweight replied. “Also, Bulk wants to invite you over for Christmas.”
“Nice,” Indigo muttered. “But why are you taking photos in the middle of the road?”
“No one’s driving a car in this weather.”
“I do!” Indigo exclaimed, but Featherweight didn’t listen to her, seeing that Sour Sweet left the car.
“You must be Sour Sweet,” he said, raising the camera. “I’ve heard that you were interested in modelling and I sent you a message, but you’ve never replied.”
“That’s because I block little creeps on sight,” Sour Sweet muttered.
Featherweight approached her and took a photo. “Still, I could make you a nice portfolio, if you ever consider a career in–”
Sugarcoat took a handful of snow and put it on Featherweight’s forehead. “For your information,” she said, “Sour Sweet hates modelling due to her mother being a little dumb back when Sour was a kid. In fact, Sour hates everything and it’s apparently her mother’s fault, so don’t think you’re special.”
“Shoving me into a pile of snow was a bit of an overkill, though,” Featherweight muttered.
“You only think that because Lemon managed to take your camera from her before she shoved it somewhere else,” Sugarcoat said. “Who even told you that Sour can be into modelling?”
Featherweight pointed at Indigo, who was holding Sour Sweet’s arms, preventing her from attacking. “Her.”
Sugarcoat sighed and shook her head, turning to Indigo. “Guess Christmas is cancelled then,” she muttered. “All because you decided to play deadly pranks on your boyfriend’s brother.”
“That was months ago,” Indigo said.
Featherweight stood up. “Yeah, and you don’t play games with me anymore. You two always tell me to leave when you want to–”
“Finish this sentence and I’m releasing her,” Indigo muttered.
“No, I’m not gonna kill him now,” Sour Sweet said. “I’d like to hear more about that…”
With a natural grace, Indigo managed to get from holding Sour Sweet to dropping her on the ground and landing on the top of her in a perfectly executed schoolgirl pin in just a few moves. “You don’t.”
“May I get my camera back?” Featherweight asked, watching the scene in front of him. “I won’t tell Bulk.”
“Sure.” Sunny gave him the camera. She blushed. “I’d like a photo for me too.”
Sugarcoat chuckled. “Don’t be so shy, Sunny,” she said. “We all know your Japanese boyfriend is only a cover.”
“He is real,” Sunny muttered. “In fact, I need to call him. He was supposed to order something in Vietnam for me.”
“An engagement ring?” Lemon Zest asked. "Aww..."
“No, some shitty electronic toy.” Sunny pulled up the sleeve of her blazer and started typing something on her wrist device. “And before you start with immature jokes, the Vietnamese company who is making those accidentally created a circuit that, with some tweaking, greatly helps in hacking mobile phones.” She sent the message and smirked. “They still wonder why it got so popular.”
“I swear, I’m throwing my phone away,” Indigo muttered, helping Sour Sweet up. “I’m gonna buy one of those brick-like phones to whack Sunny over the head with when I notice she’s too interested in my stuff.”
Sunny’s wrist device beeped. She tapped on the screen, causing it to display a row of kanji. “Damn. The stocks were sold out and it now costs almost two and half million dongs.”
Indigo chuckled. “Sour, grab a knife. We’ll get Featherweight’s. That’s always a start.”
Sugarcoat smacked herself in the forehead. “You should hang out with Sandalwood more often, sharing dick jokes.”
“I’m not giving you anything,” Featherweight said.
Sunny rolled her eyes. “That’s about a hundred bucks. No problem.” She shuddered. “Can we get back to the car?”
“Sure,” Indigo replied. “As long as no one stands in the middle of the road…”
“Hey!” Featherweight exclaimed.
“Yell as much as you want, you were standing in the middle of the road.” Indigo sat in her car. “And sorry for not giving you a lift, but my car’s full. Unless you fancy a place in the trunk or at Sour Sweet’s lap.”
Sour Sweet smirked at Featherweight. “You’d be very welcome…”
“No, thanks.” Featherweight looked around and pointed at his camera. “I need to, umm… take photos and stuff.”
“Ah, okay then.” Indigo closed the door and drove slowly through the snow.
After leaving each of her friends in their respective houses, Indigo drove to the gym. She hoped Sunny would go with her, but Sunny decided to spend that day at home, telling the hospice staff that she was snowed in and couldn’t get to them.
It wasn’t far from truth. When Indigo parked by the gym, she was sure that she’d have to spend some time after training trying to find which pile of snow was hiding her car. Not to mention scraping ice off the windscreen.
Trying not to think about it, Indigo changed her clothes and entered the gym floor. It was unusually empty—courtesy of a bad weather—but Indigo heard the sound of a treadmill running, complete with groans and fast, rhythmical steps.
“Muffins?” Indigo asked, walking closer.
Muffins jumped off the treadmill, spinning in mid-air and landing perfectly in front of Indigo. Soon, however, she coughed, resting herself against Indigo’s shoulder.
Indigo raised her eyebrows. “Are you okay?”
“Mhm,” Muffins replied, panting heavily. “I thought I was running eleven kilometres per hour, but it turned out to be eleven miles per hour…”
“Not bad.” Indigo nodded. “I thought only I keep getting mistaken.”
“Yeah, but it took me fifteen minutes to realise.” Muffins sighed. “I’m gonna cough up my lungs with all that smoke…”
“You smoke?”
“No, I was making pancakes in the school’s science lab,” Muffins replied. “It didn’t go as planned.”
Indigo raised her hand, but after a while, she decided that asking all the questions she came up with would probably be rude. “You and Lemon Zest should hang out more often…”
“Does she like pancakes?” Muffins asked. “Also, Bulk is here. He’s showing Flash some new training regime.”
Indigo stepped on an elliptical trainer. “How’s with you and Flash?”
“Fine, I guess,” Muffins replied. “We cleaned the mess in the lab together. And he mentioned spending New Year’s Eve skiing in some cool place he heard about…”
“Skiing, you say?” Indigo smirked. “I need to ask Bulk if he goes there too. Like, I’m already in for an awkward Christmas dinner with his parents, so I guess we can agree to spend New Year somewhere else. Preferably far away.”
“Indeed.” Muffins rubbed her calves. “I’ll better find some exercise that doesn’t require legs. I still have to go back home and if Flash’s car won’t start, I only have my skis to work with.”
“You carry skis with you?” Indigo panted. Talking while using the elliptical trainer wasn’t helping her in proper breathing. “It wasn’t even snowing in the morning.”
Muffins did the side split. “I used to be in the biathlon team, but then I shot the coach in the ass…” She groaned. “Can you help me get up?”
After helping Muffins get back on her legs and finishing her warm-up, Indigo went to the other room, guided by Bulk’s yelling and the sounds of heavy weights being dropped on the rack.
“Eight reps in each set,” Bulk muttered. He stood in front of Flash, who was panting, lying down on the bench. “Not, ‘generally eight, but I’ll do ten because a nice girl is watching’ or ‘only six because I thought I could lift this one eight times’...”
“Hello!” Indigo smacked Bulk’s arm. “What are you doing?”
“He’s trying to murder me,” Flash muttered. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to use my hands tomorrow…”
“Well, there’s Muffins,” Indigo replied. “Though I think she pulled a muscle, umm… somewhere.”
Flash sat on the bench, cursing under his breath as he tried to move his arms. “Do you think she needs a massage?”
Indigo smirked. “Yes.”
“Which muscle exactly did she pull?” Bulk asked. “Or wait, I don’t wanna know. How was your day?”
“Normal. Got up, had a test, nearly ran your brother over…”
“What?!”
“Taking photos in the middle of the road.” Indigo shrugged. “Does he even have a self-preservation instinct? Afterwards, he tried to pick up Sour Sweet.”
“And our parents think he’s the smart one…” Bulk muttered.
Indigo stepped inside of the power rack to do some squats with the barbell. Flash followed her with his gaze, but quickly stopped when Bulk walked closer to him and cleared his throat.
“Anyway, what are we gonna do about Christmas?” Indigo asked after finishing the first set. “Do your parents still want to invite my parents to their house?”
“Sure,” Bulk replied. “Though it’ll take a while to convince Featherweight not to open all the gifts.”
“Did he already knit you a sweater?” Flash asked, struggling with the barbell.
“Keep working,” Bulk muttered.
Indigo smirked. “Did you take measures already? If not, I’m always available.”
Flash put the barbell back on the rack a bit louder than necessary. “If you two don’t need me, I’ll go and look for Muffins.” He stood up and walked out, stretching his arms and groaning.
“Wait, I thought he wasn’t much into her.” Indigo started to circle her arms. “It’s hard to keep up with those people, sometimes…”
“Well, we have a theory that Muffins is actually Borg in disguise.” Bulk smirked. “Resistance is futile and so on.”
“Ah, that’d explain why she makes pancakes in the school lab,” Indigo said. “Not used to living on Earth, still waiting for the mothership to come back…”
“That wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen in our school,” Bulk said. “Though it always happens to Flash’s girlfriends, somehow. First Sunset Shimmer–”
“What’s wrong with her?” Indigo asked. “She seems rather normal.”
“You don’t know?” Bulk scratched his head. “Guess it’d be better if she told you herself.”
“I’ll just ask Featherweight.” Indigo chuckled.
“Okay.” Bulk lowered his voice to a whisper. “Remember when your Twilight went crazy and started to tear holes in reality?”
“I took a look inside,” Indigo replied. “It’s hard to see something when you’re holding some panicked student, but I think I saw some creatures there.”
“Yeah…” Bulk smirked. “Ponies.”
Indigo nearly dropped the weights. “You’re shitting me. Ponies? What ponies?”
“Be quiet,” Bulk muttered. “Sunset is one of them, but she lives here. There’s another Twilight Sparkle in there and she’s a princess. The magic comes from there. That’s all we know for sure. We suspect a few things, like some old fart using our world as his dumping grounds, but Sunset is rather quiet about that.”
Indigo tilted her head. “Yeah, sure. And in Crystal Prep there’s a club of Satan worshippers. We sacrifice virgins in the basement to summon demons.”
Bulk sighed. “I’m serious,” he said, but his voice drowned in Indigo’s laughter.