//------------------------------// // Bittersweet Truth // Story: Sell Me A Lemon // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// So she wasn’t exactly in the best of moods late that night, while she paced up and down in her living room. Unlike the opal-of-a-building that was Celestia’s School, this place was a basalt block. What had once been whiteness and shine simply corroded under the dust and the dank and the stink of fermented drink. Hers was a simple life; if it needed cleaning, she left the job to her tomorrow self, who never came. Magazines and chewed hay sticks littered the floor, crunching underfoot. Not only was the room a shrine to procrastination, but also a tomb of hopes. The trophies she’d won and the medals she’d cheated her way to: they had all tarnished, and none of them were dated to any day after she’d left school. Whenever she looked at them, Lemon Hearts – gum-chewing, loud-mouthing, spit-shooting, snotty little school filly Lemon Hearts, who’d bossed her way into the prefects’ club and immediately gotten thrown out for being a sore winner – wondered when it had all gone wrong. No, that wasn’t the question. The question was when it had ever gone right. Instead of staying to watch any of the other ponies claim their trophies last night, she’d slinked out. Home beckoned. She’d almost torn herself in half to do it; Lemon loved the warmth of ponies surrounding her like a blanket, especially when she could then whistle and dance on tables and get them crowding around and, if she was giddy enough, leave them either laughing their heads off or muttering that her head had come undone. To actually step away from all that… Ah, but she had to. Who was Lemon Hearts now? All the same, she couldn’t resist. Someone had to share in her misery. Lemon Hearts only liked being alone when there was someone to be alone at. What was the point if no one was there to see her on her own? Three letters through three mail slots. One for Twinkleshine. One for Minuette. One for Lyra. Practically no one else could be trusted. And… Someone knocked. A swift rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat: so Lyra was there at least. She always knocked as though the occupants were deaf. Between her and the door, the space was too far and not far enough. Then she remembered. “It’s open!” Lyra pushed the door open so hard it smacked the wall and shuddered. “I got your message! Lemon, what’s up? What’s wrong? What’s down? What’s right? What’s going on? What’s coming up? What’s –?” “One at a time, Lyra,” said Minuette, throwing in a giggle so she didn’t sound too bossy. “It is nice to come over to the lion’s den once in a while, Lemon!” “Lemon Hearts.” This was Twinkleshine, craning to see over the other two: a tricky business with Lyra bending and un-bending her legs on the spot. “Whatever is the matter? Your note just said to come over as soon as we could.” Her friends shuffled into the room, casting cringing looks and raised eyebrows at the floor. Don’t focus on that! Hastily, she tapped the coffee table between the two sofas. “Come on in, girls. Sit down, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable – sorry about the mess – Relax, relax. I’ve prepared drinks. Does anyone want drinks? I mean, cookies – Does anyone drink cookies – er, want cookies?” Hoofsteps followed the three of them in. “I came as soon as I could.” Lemon heard the swish of wings folding and groaned. They hadn’t, had they? Why did they think she only sent out three? “Twilight?” She spun round, and sure enough, el Princesso de Friendshippio came in with her dragon friend and shut the door behind her. With a telekinetic spell, of course. Coldly, Lemon added, “Who the hay invited you?” “When I noticed you’d left early, I suspected something might be bugging you, but I wasn’t sure until I learned about those letters you sent out.” “Who told you?” Lemon scanned each of the other unicorns’ faces for the slightest – ah, you! Lyra was suddenly doing a round of ceiling inspection. “Please, Lemon,” said Twilight. “Don’t push me away. Maybe I can help you out? I am one of your friends too, right?” Reluctantly, Lemon’s ire drained away. Why bother? she thought. Really, why the heck should I kick up a fuss? Like it matters at this stage. “Sit next to Twinkles, then. Sure no one wants any drinks? Cookies? No? They are in date, you know!” Nervous glances and surreptitious shuffling did not convey much confidence in the contents of Lemon’s kitchen. “Pfft, if that’s the way you want it,” she said, and stood at the head of the table, insofar as a round table had a head. So that’s… two crazies on the right. Lyra, who’s an overexcited puppy on a sugar rush, and Minuette, who’d get thrown out of a customer service post for being too creepily cheerful. And we have the two swots on the left, and if I were Celestia right now, they’d suffer from heart attacks and two cases of acute toadyism. And one dragon. Sheesh, we got everything under one roof here. “What’s this about?” said Twinkleshine. Now how do I begin…? Darn it, I should have written a speech or made cue cards. “Well!” she burst out, and covered her mouth and coughed. “Well. Everyone. We’re all here. Look at us. Look at shiny, superior us. Has it really been however long it’s been since we’ve been to school, has it?” A few “huh’s?” and “wha’s?” told her she was losing her audience. Her smile got stuck. “Uh… Lyra! Lyrical little Lyra! Congratulations… on… music, and stuff. Shoot, now all you have to do is learn how to sing, and you’ll be made for life, ahaha, aha… ah…” Narrowed eyes met this remark. Lemon looked for a new target. “And you! Twinkles! How about them stars, eh? Always looking at them stars through a telescope. If I tried that, I’d get locked up. Hahaha! Haha. Ha?” Twinkleshine’s brow stretched against the horrified incomprehension. “No? OK. Minuette –” “Pass,” said Minuette hurriedly. “Twilight?” “Is this some sort of experimental comedy routine?” “…Spike?” “Same question as Twilight.” “Good hickory-dickory gosh-darn dock it sock it dagnabbit, ponies!” Lemon made to thump the table, but teeth-gritting alarm caught her in time, and she shook under the strain of holding her hoof against the wood for a second. “Quit interrupting me! This is hard enough as it is!” Under the shock of silence, Lemon breathed as though at the end of a marathon. She prided herself on her smoothness, but their voices met her emotions coming the other way with the grace of rakes on an ice rink. “OK… OK…” She looked around for a glass of water – AHA! Swipe it, gulp it… “Is this about the school?” said Twilight. …choke on it. Spluttering, Lemon lowered the glass and didn’t mind when Lyra thumped her on the back. “Yes.” Her throat was crushed with pain; she coughed to loosen its hold. “Yes. It is. You know how I… See, back then… The thing you gotta remember is…” She picked the two least likely to annoy her. “Unlike Minuette and Twinkles, I never made it all the way through school. I flunked it.” “Oh, Lemon,” said Twinkleshine, “don’t say that –” “I flunked it! There’s no point tiptoeing around this sack of garbage, OK? And Lyra, I see you opening your mouth. I know you’re gonna point out you flunked it too, and I love you for saying that, or for at least trying to say it even though I stopped you because you know I like – Lyra – to be clear on this, BUT – Lyra, shut mouth, sit down, let finish – but it’s not the same thing at all! You’re good at music! Fantastic, even!” Twilight patted her own lips, looking up at her invisible thoughts. Upon spotting a good catch, she lowered the hoof. “Lemon,” she said gently, “the only reason you flun – didn’t finish at Celestia’s School… had nothing to do with your skills or talents or anything like that. Just getting in there is proof of your potential. You can do anything you want if you set your mind to –” “I never said anything like that.” Lemon spoke fast, hoping to smother the problem. Trouble was: this was like smothering the room’s omnipresent stink with a dead lilac. The only reason she’d flunked the school at all had everything to do with her skills and talents, namely her skills and talents in slipping through forbidden doors and treating health-and-safety codes as double-dares. She couldn’t help it, which was odd as it was, since she’d liked telling ponies what to do. She’d practised in front of a mirror, smirking at how many more perks her prefect badge had gotten her. Yet faced with those same rules and anyone else with those same perks, her soul rebelled. Her heart shouted “no”, or rather – since this was Lemon’s heart – “who’s gonna make me?” The result being: her head had been much surprised when she’d found out who was gonna make her, because they made her hand over her badge and walk out. At the time, Twinkleshine had told her she – Lemon – was deliberately anti-authoritarian. Lemon had said no; she just didn’t like being told what to do. She liked authority, and felt it was best kept where she could easily see it, i.e. in a mirror. Here and now, she hoped that snotty little prefect was getting the worst of the pain. “I’m a lemon,” she said. “Well, of course you are!” said Minuette happily. “Lemon. Hearts. That’s a better name than Minuette, anyway. At least your parents knew when to stop spelling your name.” “No, you dummy,” Lemon snapped. “I meant my family handed the universe a lemon.” Not a pony among them said anything. Wasn’t hard to guess why. At a Canterlot-level establishment like Celestia’s School, the fifth most common way of introducing freshers was via family ties, right after names, ranks, the weather, and where the nearest privy was. Lemon had dealt with the issue the same way she’d dealt with exams; sneer at the sheer stupidity of the question while hoping like hell she didn’t lose too many marks for it. “Metaphorically speaking,” said Twilight, brightening up, “lemons have a long history and pedigree. Citrus limon from the eastern countries inspired awe and respect among those who cultivated it. The fruit may have a tart flavour, but it’s rich in healthy citric acids and Vitamin C, has a delightful colour named after it, and has its place in fine cuisine. The lemon has nothing to be ashamed of, even if it’s not everyone’s idea of the perfect fruit.” She added, “We’re talking metaphorically, right?” “Only you know what you’re talking about,” said Lemon bitterly. All the same, it had a certain appeal, and would have tasted quite fine to her if Lyra hadn’t added: “Isn’t a lemon something useless? I swear there’s a saying, like ‘sell a lemon’. Or am I thinking of bananas?” “Lyra!” Twinkleshine threw a glare across the table. “Sorry! I was thinking aloud. I didn’t really mean –” “No, forget it,” said Lemon. She raised a hoof to make the point, not looking up from the table. “She’s right. I can hand the world a Lemon with a capital-L, but who am I kidding? I’m handing them a lemon. Just a plain lemon. All right, I’m sorry I dragged you away from your beds. Come on, up and out.” “Oh, Lemon,” said Minuette, giggling. “I’m serious. Get up. Go back. What is the freaking point when you get down to it? Come on, up, up, up!” She tugged at Lyra’s resting forelimb. Only Minuette got up, and she moseyed around the room looking at random things. “No,” said Twinkleshine, before Lyra pulled her forelimb out of reach. “Something’s bothering you, and you need us. We’re not leaving.” “I don’t need you,” said Lemon Hearts. Thank you thank you thank you I won’t forget you said that. “Are these yours?” Minuette tapped the display of trophies and medals. “Yes! And stop trying to wipe off the grime! They’re nothing but grime at this point!” “Well, you’re proud of these, aren’t you?” “Yes. No. Sometimes. At the time I was, but that was a long time ago.” “So what’s the problem?” Minuette beamed as though she’d played her checkmate, and somehow helped both players to win. “Not forgetting,” said Twilight, “that you organize all those state dinners at the palace –” “Just listen, will you!” No one seemed to be in the right frame of mind, i.e. miserable. Lemon Hearts reared up, the better to point both hooves at her chest as if to say “take your best shot”. “I do not work at the palace! I don’t organize state dinners! I mean, look at me! Look at me! I can’t organize my life! I can’t organize my thoughts! I can’t even organize my room! The best I ever did was private photography for a Gala with the Wonderbolts, and I got chucked out of that ‘cause I tried to sell the pics to fans!” To her consternation, there were no shocked gapes or mind-blowing gasps. Put out by the expectant stares instead, she added, “What?” “Oh, we sort of suspected,” said Lyra. “We know you,” said Twinkleshine. “I wasn’t sure at the time,” said Twilight. “I just wanted something to make Moondancer open up.” “But the coltfriend bit is true,” Lemon added hastily. She was sizzling with irritation; when a mare goes out of her way to reveal a lie, other ponies should at least have the decency to look outraged. After all, she’d gone through a lot of effort. Twinkleshine folded her forelimbs and furrowed her brow and mouth in the classic “deposit not accepted” stance. Lemon sighed. She’d have to up the payment. “OK, the coltfriend bit was a lie too. If I had one, they wouldn’t be the sort to write poetry. Except limericks.” Smiles and smooth skin were her reward. She breathed out with relief and watched as the forelimbs relaxed again. “I don’t even belong in Canterlot.” “Of course you do!” said Lyra happily. “You belong in Canterlot more than I do! I live in Ponyville, remember?” “So does Her Highness Twilight over there.” “Yeah, but she has parents in Canterlot. I just visit.” Lemon frowned. “I could’ve sworn you had relatives here. Didn’t your uncle –?” “What about you?” said Twilight. “Don’t you have relatives here?” Ice picked at her chest. “No! I don’t! I up and moved as soon as I was old enough to know what ‘rent’ means! I don’t even remember my parents’ real names!” Sullenly she added, “They probably tore their names out of the registry or something, in case I tried to go back.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Twilight and Spike turn to each other. Did they just wink? “I don’t understand,” said Twinkleshine. “We think we do,” said Twilight, nudging Spike, who hopped off his seat and toddled over to Lemon’s side. “Lemon Hearts, there’s no point whatsoever in wrapping yourself up against a problem that’s attacking you from within. You’re thinking too hard about external sources of validation. What you need is a reminder of the inner values you already have. Wipe the grime from your eye, and you’ll see the shine again.” “YYYeeeaaahhh…” said Lemon, “I’m going with what Twinkles said. I’ve tried wiping the grime off my medals, but they’re past their best.” “No, no, no,” said Twilight. “No?” said Lemon. “No!” said Spike, patting her on the flank. “Twilight just means you need to think about your good qualities.” “But I don’t have any!” wailed Lemon. “Haven’t you been listening?” “Yep. And the way I see it is this; I had a similar issue a long time ago. I didn’t know who I was, or where I came from, or what I was supposed to be. Was I a dragon or a pony, or something completely different?” Not sure if she saw light at the end of the tunnel or just an oncoming train, Lemon said, “RRRiiight…” “So what I did was: go to the dragon lands and find out for myself. I thought if I spent time among other dragons, I’d better understand what made me… me.” “And… what? You embraced your dragony nature, or something?” “Actually, I leaned more towards pony. The other dragons were terrible.” “Oh.” “Although I heard it’s a lot better now.” “This is sweet and everything, but what’s your point? At least it’s obvious for you where to start looking. You just have to go find dragons. I don’t know a single lemon in this city.” “Well, there you go!” Twilight stood up immediately. “If you want us to assist you, we can find out where you came from. Even if you don’t find what you expect, you can still find something worth the while.” “In Equestrian, please?” Lyra stood up so fast it was practically a bounce. “We find out who you are! Brilliant!” “I know who I am! That’s the problem!” “No, Lemon…” Slinking off her chair, Twinkleshine joined the standing squad. “They mean you might feel better if we find out who your parents were, and what your ancestors did. Even if you reject what you find, you might learn something from that too.” Lemon chewed her lip. This did seem like a promising response, especially the latter part. And there was always the opportunity of coasting on pedigree. If she couldn’t earn her self-respect, perhaps she could pinch it off someone else. Best part was: go far enough back, and the other party wouldn’t be in a position to complain. “I… guess we could try that…” she said, because she’d be darned if she ever became as artlessly cheerful as the likes of Lyra and Minuette. “So what do we do first?” “First, we go to the Canterlot Archives,” said Twilight. “What, at this hour?” “I can get us in. Surprised me too. Turns out the guards have an open-door policy.” “Huh. Oh. OK. And then, what, find my family tree?” “It’s a start!” Lemon turned to Spike. “Did you do that too?” “Well, no. I didn’t think.” He frowned. “Although now you mention it –” “All right. Let’s give it a shot. Can’t hurt to try,” she said, wondering how accurate that phrase actually was. Something cracked. They looked up. “Oh, sorry!” Minuette drew back from the shards of blackened medal on the floor. “I can pay for a new one!”