//------------------------------// // Jazz Standard in C, "Scrapple From The Apple" // Story: Celestia XVII // by brokenimage321 //------------------------------// “Good work there, Cece!” Applejack called. “Almost there!” I shielded my eyes from the setting sun, and saw Applejack a few rows over, waving at me. Even from this distance, she looked exhausted—but even so, she’d done easily half the work today, and was still going relatively strong, all things considered. I’d been here for three or four hours, barely half of what the others had done, but I was already wishing for home. Though I could probably keep going for another few hours, I’d never bucked apples before, and I was already sweaty and a little sore. But Applejack had given me a red bandana to hold my mane back (which, I have to admit, looked pretty good on me), and shown me how to buck like a pro. Besides, we were almost done—another hundred or so trees left. So, I braced my front hooves, lifted my back legs, and bucked. The apples shook, but did not fall. I huffed. I was plenty tall, and fairly strong, which is why Applejack had picked me to buck—but I was no Applejack. She had it down to a science—Twi said she could drop the apples into the bushels every time—but, even though I tried my best, I just couldn’t do it. Instead, the others had to gather up the apples I knocked down manually… or, at least, they did when I actually managed to knock ‘em loose. I bucked again, and a third time, before the apples started to fall. I yelped and tried to shield myself with a wing— “I got it!” cried Twilight. Twilight leapt towards me, an empty bushel held in her magic. She caught a few of the apples, but missed most of them, and landed flat in the dirt. She looked up at me sheepishly, but I just laughed, then walked over and helped her to her hooves. Twilight, as always, wore her mane in a bun—something simple, functional, and out of the way. Her glasses—thick, square-framed, with black rims—had been the same for as long as I’d known her. She was rather quiet, shy, and bookish, so when she’d asked me to help her with farm work, I was, to put it mildly, more than a little surprised—but, all the same, I was proud of her for getting out of her shell a little. I dusted her off with one wing and gave her a hug. She looked down. “Sorry I wasn’t ready,” she mumbled. “Sorry I didn’t check first,” I replied. Twilight flashed me a quick smile, then turned back to the fallen apples. She used her magic to pick them up in groups of five or six, then set them in the bushel. I picked up one in my hoof and tossed it in, then scanned the tree. “Aw, horseapples,” I muttered. Twilight looked up at me, then turned to follow my gaze—and saw, up at the very top of the tree, a single, bright-red apple, still clinging stubbornly to the branch. She stared at it for just a moment, then lit her horn. “No,” I cried, “Don’t—!” But the apple glowed reddish-violet, and Twilight pulled it gently from the tree. She floated it down and set it gently on the top of one of the bushels, then turned and shot me a crooked grin. “You’re lucky AJ didn’t see you,” I said, hefting the bushel in my own magic and setting it on my back. “She would have had a fit.” “I’m getting better,” she protested. “Better than tearing a tree in half isn’t much of an improvement,” I replied, nudging her fondly with an elbow. Twilight chuckled nervously, then looked away. As I turned to walk back towards the wagon, she fell in step beside me. We walked in silence for a few moments. “So,” I asked, “How was school? Any cute colts?” Twilight looked up at me, a blush already spreading across her cheeks, then glanced out at the horizon before looking down again. I followed her gaze—and, in the distance, saw the old Apple farmhouse, up on top of the hill. I stared at it for a few seconds before it clicked. “Big Mac?” I almost squealed. “You thirsty little panther! Isn’t he, like, twenty-five?” “Twenty-two,” she muttered. I giggled, then sighed.  “Good for you,” I said. “nothing wrong with good taste.” Twilight looked up at me, and a little smile spread across her face. We walked in silence for a little longer. “Hey,” I said, glancing down at her. “Sorry again about those Gala tickets.” She shrugged. “It’s okay,” she said. “No, it’s not,” I insisted. “I know it was a straight-up clerical error, but that’s still no excuse to cause so much trouble—” Twilight turned and looked at me over her glasses. “It’s okay, Cease,” she insisted. “We got it worked out. And, even if we hadn’t, October fifteenth is a long ways away.” She smiled. “All of us are looking forward to it already, by the way,” she added. “Rarity is even dreaming up dress designs for us already.” I raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s awfully generous of her.” Twilight shrugged. “That is sort of her thing,” she said with a little smile. We reached the wagon just as Fluttershy and Pinkie did. Fluttershy gently placed her bushel in the bed of the wagon, and Pinkie practically threw hers on top before bounding off again. Fluttershy cried out, then zoomed after her. “Speaking of,” Twilight said, as she hefted her own bushel, “Rarity wanted me to ask about your measurements. She’s working on a dress for you, too.” I stopped mid-stride. “Really?” I said, a note of fear in my voice. Twilight turned back to me, a question in her eyes, and I looked down. “S-she doesn’t need to do that,” I stammered. “Of course she doesn’t,” Twilight said. “But, like I said—that’s her thing. Plus,” she added, grinning at me, “we all need to match, don’t we?” I nodded, and we started the walk back to the next apple tree. As we walked, I watched Twilight out of the corner of my eye. She was dirty and sweaty, but she was glowing—smiling like an idiot, waving at Rainbow Dash and Rarity as they passed (the latter wearing oversized shades and a big floppy hat). It… it almost made me a little jealous, in fact. Especially since it was Twilight. I mean, she was my best friend, but still—she hadn’t exactly been burdened with social graces when she left Canterlot. And to see her, like this, now... I swallowed. “It seems you’re liking it here in Ponyville.” Twilight nodded. “I am. I miss being around the Palace—and seeing you all the time,” she added, “but Ponyville is… nice.” I nodded. “I’ve been enjoying your letters,” I said. “So, the friendship studies are going well?” “My friendships are, yes,” she corrected me. “I don’t like ‘studies.’ Makes it sounds like a job.” “It sorta is,” I replied. “If your ability to use the Elements is dependent on your relationships, and the Elements really are what legends say they are—” “I know,” Twilight said, cutting me off. “But I still don’t like thinking that way. Feels…” she gestured vaguely. “Insincere.” I picked up a couple empty bushels from the stack by the wagon and set them on my back, then turned and started walking towards the next tree in line, still heavy with fruit. “Either way,” I said, “Just be glad you don’t have to be around Loonie all the time. I mean—” “Please don’t speak ill of Grandmother,” Twilight said quietly. I turned and stared, but Twilight just kept walking. I scanned her face, then sighed, and trotted to catch up. I pulled up alongside her, and we walked in silence for several seconds. “Sorry,” I said. “I… forgot how you feel about her.” Though Twilight hadn’t spoken openly about her feelings regarding her somethingth-great-grandmother, it was pretty clear to all of us that she was equal parts awed and terrified. You couldn’t exactly blame her, of course, not with everything that had been sprung on the two of us over the summer… but still. And yet... Twilight hadn’t been in Ponyville longer than three months or so, but she’d still started growing a bit of a backbone. Back in Canterlot, she’d hardly ever made such a request, even in the politest terms—but now, she’d started standing up for herself. To be honest, I… I was sorta proud of her. “Apology accepted,” she said. “No harm done.” I nodded, then set down the bushels around our next tree and eyeballed the apples above them. “Either way,” I said, “If you ever feel like coming back, there’s always a spare room for you at the Palace.” “Don’t tempt me,” she giggled. She eyed the placement of the bushels, then picked up an empty one in her magic. “Ready?” she asked. “Ready,” I replied, and I braced my forehooves.