Apple Bloom frowned. “What d’ya mean, ‘who’? Applejack! Mah sister! Orange coat, Stetson, rodeo champ? Pretty annoyin’ sometimes?”
Scootaloo made a faint noise of recognition. “Oh, the one that lives in Manehattan,” she said, nodding. “Right, I remember her. Didn’t look much like a rodeo mare, though. Or a repair mare, for that matter.”
“I liked her,” a flat voice said from behind Apple Bloom. She jumped and spun around to find herself face to face with a heavy-lidded expression of purest apathy.
“O-oh, hi, Maud,” Bloom said, struggling to get her pulse back under control.
“Hello,” the older mare replied. She glanced behind the counter. “Your coffee machine seems to have exploded. Again.”
“Yeah,” Lyra said, rubbing at an ear with a hoof. “It’s getting better, though. It actually made the coffee before going out with a bang.”
“That is progress,” Maud agreed. “Would you like help repairing it?”
“Yeah, sure, that’d be great,” Lyra agreed. “Anyway, what can I get for you?”
“A rock cake,” Maud replied.
“The usual it is!” Lyra proclaimed, taking several large, lumpy objects out from under the counter and popping them into a bag.
“How much?” Maud asked, reaching for her bit bag.
“For you, no charge,” Lyra said breezily. “I’ll pay for you. After all, loyalty works both ways, eh?”
“I can’t make you do that,” Maud said, a slight frown gracing her features.
“No, but you also can’t stop me!” Lyra replied with a broad grin. “Look, you come over after work and help me fix BABY, and we’ll call it even, okay?”
The faintest of smiles flickered over Maud’s face. She nodded. “I’ll bring the other elements, as well. I’m sure we can work it out together.”
“Other elements?” Apple Bloom asked, squinting. Her ears were ringing again, and it had nothing to do with the exploded beverage yspenser. There was something terribly wrong with the world, but she didn’t know what it was. Thinking deeply, she took a long sip of her chocolate-milk coffee. She glanced at Scootaloo, who still hadn’t touched hers. “Too hot fer ya?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I hate coffee. I buy it for Thunderlane.” Her eyes sparkled. “Someday, maybe he’ll take me under his wing and help me learn to fly better,” she said dreamily.
This all sounded oddly familiar to Apple Bloom. Had she heard Scootaloo talking about this before? Her head was beginning to throb again. “Thank y’all kindly fer th’ coffee,” she managed. “Ah best git goin’ now, though. Got t’ take back mah library books, an’ that…”
She stumbled out the door. The other mares and Spike watched her go. “She seems unwell,” Maud observed.
“Or she’s just tired?” Spike suggested.
Scootaloo spread her wings nervously. “I thought she was just dazed from running into me.”
Lyra frowned, her mouth a line. “Mr. Cake? I’m going on my lunch break!” she called.
“But it’s only a quarter-past eleven!” the lanky stallion protested, peering out from the kitchen.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but I think something’s just come up,” Lyra replied anxiously. “Can I? Please?”
Mr. Cake’s eyes softened. “Alright,” he said. “Pound and Pumpkin are getting to be old enough to learn how to run the counter anyway. Just be back in an hour, okay?”
“You got it!” the unicorn said, vaulting over the counter and galloping out the door.
Mr. Cake smiled, shaking his head. “That mare,” he sighed as he trotted up to the counter, scooting the BABY back with one hoof. “You two want to help me get this back to her workshop?”
***
The rain had relented at last, and the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds, shining down on Apple Bloom as she meandered distractedly through the streets. Everything felt off today. A reelection sign for Mayor Filthy Rich? An advertisement for the one-night-only performance of DJ C3ll-0 and glam rockstar ‘Cheers’? A ‘wanted’ poster for the criminal known as Starlight Glimmer? Bloom scuffed at the ground with a hoof, her mouth a tight, twisted scowl. What was she missing? Blurred memories swam through her mind, warped and bent like funhouse mirrors. The mud under her hooves gave and bent like putty. Pressure built up in her head like her ears were about to pop. She sat down heavily in the mud, her eyes wet and threatening to spill over. “Apple Bloom?” a cultured voice exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing?”
The mare looked up. An alabaster unicorn, her violet mane tied back in a tidy bun, looked at her in concern. “Oh. Howdy, Miz Rarity,” Bloom said, rising to her hooves. “How’re you today?”
“I’m fine. You, however, obviously aren’t.” The unicorn pulled out a hoofkerchief out of her saddlebag and held it out to Apple Bloom, who accepted it gratefully. “Whatever is the matter?” the unicorn asked gently.
“Oh, ya know,” Apple Bloom said, dabbing at her eyes. “Ah’ve jes’ been havin’ one o’ them days.’
“One of those, days, darling,” the unicorn corrected. “You may not be in my class any more, but I certainly will not allow you to flaunt the rules of grammar so thoroughly.”
Apple Bloom blinked slowly. “Your class.” Something seemed to echo hollowly in her head.
Rarity looked at her askance. “That’s right.”
“Miz Rarity, d’y’all by chance happen t’ know a mare named Cheerilee?”
The unicorn raised her eyebrows. “Well! There’s a name I’ve not heard in a long time. We went to college together, and we were even in the same teaching course. Unfortunately, the stress grew too much for the poor dear and she dropped out. And now…” she gestured to the Cheers/Cell-0 poster.
Apple Bloom’s eyes went wide. “Serious?” she asked.
“Quite,” Rarity said with a sharp nod. “I suppose she’s done alright for herself, all things considered. It is a pity though; she really was quite good with children. Why do you ask, darling?”
Apple Bloom didn’t meet the teacher’s eyes. “Oh, uh, no reason. Jes’... heard ‘bout her from mah folks. They knew her from when she was younger.”
Technically speaking, this was only half a lie. Cheerilee was, in fact, a distant relative of the Apple family: her mother’s second cousin’s daughter, more closely related to the Cherry branch of the Berry family. There was a story about how Cheerilee had been the only one who could calm the squalling infant Apple Bloom at the funeral.
The gears in the mare’s head ground to a stop. Funeral? What funeral? Whose funeral? She couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t she remember?
Rarity was not oblivious to her former student’s sudden silence. “Are you sure you’re alright, darling?” she asked gently.
“Fine,” Apple Bloom said waspishly. “Jes’ a headache.”
Rarity made a sympathetic noise. “I’m sure Dr. Fluttershy could give you something for it,” she suggested.
“Mighty fine idea,” Bloom agreed. “First, though, Ah gotta get t’ th’ library. See ya ‘round, Miz Rarity!”
The schoolteacher watched her go, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You can come out now, Lyra,” she said idly.
The mint green unicorn peeked out from a row of rosebushes. “How did you know I was here?”
“The night vision goggles rather gave it away, darling,” the white mare replied drily. “Might I ask why in the world you were spying on that young mare?”
Lyra stepped out of the garden, shaking petals and leaves from her mane. “I was worried about her,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know if you’d noticed, but she was kinda out of it.”
“No,” the schoolteacher drawled, “Really?”
“Yeah. Earlier, it was like she’d never seen BABY before, or Maud, or the Elements. I dunno. It’s weird, and I wanna know if this is a problem that we’re gonna have to deal with.”
“You don’t buy her story about the headaches, then?”
Lyra shook her head emphatically. “Definitely not. I dunno what’s going on here, but it’s more than that.”
“Aliens again, then?”
Lyra shrugged. “It always has been. Don’t see why not.”
“Oh, lovely,” Rarity sighed. “Honestly, I’ll never understand how you all deal with it. Particularly the Doctor! He’s like some sort of unearthly child, half the time.”