Soft combers of steam rose from the teacup, curling under Silver’s chin and wafting through the empty schoolhouse. Passionflower tea normally circulated during the summertime, but Silver Spoon felt that a reminder of warmer months could bring some cheer in the ice and snow.
She glanced at the stubs of icicles dripping on the edge of the roof. Or at least, there had been ice and snow. They’d strung the icicles up yesterday morning, and it had snowed early last night, yet by noon today, it had all mysteriously vanished. Not melted—too cold for that—but vanished. All the icicle stubs had jagged ends; they’d been snapped off. The weather team must have decided to take them back, but why? And why the rush?
She’d tried asking Rainbow Dash about it, but she and her tortoise (less so the tortoise) had been in a rush this morning and couldn’t stay to talk.
Luckily, passionflower worked in all weather. Its mildly sweet taste came without sugar, the scent could charm a manticore, and the flower’s properties naturally calmed anxiety. Perfect for a Welcome To Ponyville afternoon tea.
So when the new filly stared at the teacup as if it might scratch her eyes out, Silver Spoon couldn’t help but feel a little slighted.
“If you don’t like it, I could always get you something else. Do you like cocoa?” Silver hadn’t brought any, but Sugarcube Corner wasn’t far. Mr. Cake’s hot fudge cocoa couldn’t be beat, and the place sat in the heart of town, perfect for newbie introductions. Plus, some ambassador advice from Pinkie Pie might be in order.
The new kid sat frozen in her chair, peering out from behind her mane with wide blue eyes. She didn’t tremble, however, and when she spoke she spoke clearly, without a stutter. “No, the tea is okay.”
Like you’d know. You barely touched it. Okay, that wasn’t fair. Not everypony wanted a relaxing tea to unwind. Different yokes for different folks. Don’t take it personally.
“Um, it’s just that…” The filly brushed her mane away from her face. At the last second, she noticed what her hoof was doing, winced, and shoved both hooves in her lap. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a breath, and looked up again. “I apologize, but nopony informed me that our meeting would be a tea party. I am not dressed for it, I beg—oh!” She snatched the puffball hat from her head. “I beg your pardon.”
“This isn’t a formal tea. It’s not even a tea party, think of it as a relaxing tea between two new friends.” Silver Spoon sipped her tea, smiled at her own fine work, then motioned the new kid to try some for herself. “Relax, nopony’s going to dock you for points here; it’s not that kind of school.”
“Oh. I didn’t think it would be but…” The filly watched from the other side of the table with both ears up and shoulders stiff. Not terrified. Wary.
“Here, let’s start over.” Silver offered her hoof. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss…?”
They shook. “Toola Roola. I am pleased to be here and to make your acquaintance.” She didn’t mean it and wasn’t good at faking it. That said, the newbie had a firm trustworthy hoofshake. That would get a pony farther than badly rehearsed introductions ever would, especially in this town.
“Lovely to meet you, Toola Roola. On behalf of the Ponyville Student Council, it is my utmost pleasure to welcome you to Ponyville Schoolhouse. I’m Sterling Silver Spoon.” She paused a moment before adding, “Of the Ponyville Silvers.”
“Yeah, I know; everypony knows who you are. You’ve got that one ballroom in the gardens, and used to be with Wondermint and Brights Brightly’s group.” Toola Roola rubbed her chin in thought. “Aaaand I think your friend made Toplofty cry in the bathroom last year?”
Silver Spoon coughed into the frog of her hoof. “I wouldn’t know; we left a little early that night.” Now would be a fantastic time to change subjects. “By the way, how are Brights and Wondermint?”
Toola Roola shrugged her thin shoulders. “I wouldn’t really know.”
Silver peered over the rim of her teacup while her tail curled thoughtfully behind her.
The new filly seemed roughly the same age as Silver, maybe a grade down. The winter hat looked new, but it had no designer labels. No mention of her family name after giving her own, no bragging what her parents did for a living, and no namedropping the city they hailed from. She exchanged pleasantries mechanically and froze whenever Silver Spoon made direct eye contact. She knew of Toplofty’s dethroning, but not the details.
Miss Toola Roola, formerly of Manehattan, had been a scholarship student. No wonder Silver Spoon hadn’t recognized her.
“No,” said Silver, “I suppose you wouldn’t.” A thought occurred. “We weren’t in the same class, were we?”
She thought she remembered most of Mr. Martingale’s small class, but the scholarship students all sort of melted into one badly groomed unit. Most days, she couldn’t be bothered to know one from the other, much less their names.
“Nah, I had Miss Sugarcoat for homeroom.”
Silver flattened her ears. “Yikes.”
Toola Roola laughed. “Tell me about it! We did meet before, though: third year, in the spring. It started raining hard that afternoon, and when it was time to go home, I couldn’t find my raincoat anywhere. I asked you if you’d seen it.”
The mood of the room went lopsided. Toola Roola had stopped laughing, and she now spoke with a strange dreamy flatness to her voice. “You didn’t say anything, so I asked again. You kinda sniffed at me for half a second, and said ‘Who gave you permission to speak to me,’ so I figured that was the end of that.” She leaned back in her chair and shrugged. “Anyway, nopony else was around to ask, so I ended up walking home in the rain.”
“That does sound like me…” Silver played with the loose tip of her braid. “Um. I’m sorry you had to walk home in the rain.”
“Eh, s’fine. Rain’s just water, same stuff you shower in; I’ve had worse.”
“You really remember all of that?” Silver just remembered staying late one rainy day to finish her homework, because Tacks had gone to visit his mother in the Hooflyn. Even that much of the memory was fuzzy at best. It might not have even been the same day.
Toola Roola sipped her tea (finally) and flicked her ears at the taste. It seemed to agree with her. “Yeah, sure. I’m pretty good at remembering things. That’s how I can paint ’em so good later.”
Silver glanced at Toola’s blue tail—four different shades, ranging from cyan to deep indigo—and then to the mop of yellow, pink, and red atop her head. Some of those colors had to be dyed, and only one clique could get away with such a bold color mismatch. “You’re an Art Kid!”
The filly preened and turned to show off the paintbrush on her pink flank. “Well, I didn’t get a scholarship through the lottery.”
“Mother used to be one of those; she says the competition’s brutal.”
“Sometimes, but it’s fair, too. Nopony cares who your family is or how many bits you’ve got. In The Studio, the only thing that matters is what you can do. I liked it there.” Toola Roola picked at the complimentary fruit basket Silver had brought her. She picked up a cantaloupe, turning it over in her hooves with a sad little smile. “That’s where I met Pot Luck, back in first year.” The cantaloupe dropped back into the basket. “Back before she got on Bridleway.”
That name sounded familiar. Silver thought back to the chubby red kid at the gala. “She’s in Hinny of the Hills, right?”
“Yeah,” Toola Roola whispered.
“I see.” Silver Spoon bent her head sympathetically.
It all came together, clearer than a crystal castle.
Wisteria Academy’s social climate marinated in bloody power struggles, character assassinations, meticulous alliances, and trading card economics, but all of these were domestic affairs. The three social circles were an orrery, not a Venn diagram. If the old money snobs underwent a total revolution, the scholarship foals wouldn’t find out for months—if at all—and when they did, nopony would care. Likewise, neither the old or new money cared about the inner-squabbles of the charity cases, save for who stood on top.
But once in a great, great while, a charity case had the extraordinary guile, luck, talent, and sheer ferocity to do the impossible: they ascended. The new money crowd respected that sort of tenacity and rewarded skill with first-class seats in the upper echelons of their rank. (Friends close, enemies closer, and all that.)
Golden tickets, however, had admission for only one. Anypony else at Wisteria would have naturally understood this and accepted it, but not an Art Kid; they crossed social class in auditoriums and studios every day. It might take them a little while to understand.
Bursts of upward mobility tended to give ponies amnesia—“We’re in this together” became “Do I know you?” in a microsecond—but they never forgot where they come from. They never wanted to go back. Ever. If some trace of their humble scholarship past tried to follow them…
Silver Spoon nodded to herself. “You got a black card, didn’t you?”
A tear dripped into Toola Roola’s teacup. “Yeah.”
Gently, Silver reached across the table and laid her hoof upon Toola’s. She bent her neck to look her fellow former Wisterian in the eye. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
Toola Roola froze. Nopony, it seemed, had ever told her that before. She stared with massive blue eyes that shined and glistened like a doll’s. Wrinkles creased her face, and she began to cry in earnest.
“I didn’t mean to hit her, Silver Spoon! I really, really didn’t, but she’d been so mean to me all year, and then in finals, she stepped on my painting and she did it on purpose for no reason and it made me s-so ang—” She gulped and wiped her eyes with the kerchief Silver handed her. “I-I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean it! Pot Luck’s my best friend, I don’ wanna hurt her. I told Headmistress Avalonia—I t-t-told everypony I di-didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I said I was sorry.”
It didn’t matter. Physical violence from any student meant automatic expulsion. Period. That was why black card dealers wound their targets so tight in the first place.
Silver poured a fresh cup of passionflower tea while she gave the filly some time. Good call on that newbie meet n’ greet, Di. Better to get all this out now instead of letting it congeal into something nasty three months from now.
When the sobs finally settled, Silver added a dollop of honey to the cup and began to stir. “It’s probably for the best. I don’t think you belonged there in the first place.”
She didn’t need to look up from stirring tea to know Toola Roola was glaring at her.
Before the newbie could say anything, Silver continued, “Not in the way you’re thinking. Listen, Wisteria Academy’s not like other schools. It doesn’t fit for certain types of fillies.”
“Yeah, like the poor types, right? The scruffy have-nots or charity cases, or whatever else you guys call the scholarship students?” Toola hunched low in her chair and puffed a lock of yellow mane out of her face. Under her breath, she groused, “…not even poor. We’re upper middle class.”
“No, actually.” Silver shook excess honey off the spoon and pushed the cup forward. “It’s because you cared. You cared so much that you let it eat you up until you hit Pot Luck instead of getting revenge some other way.”
Toola Roola laughed at that. “A charity case getting revenge on new money?”
“Mother says there’s nothing more dangerous than an angry scholarship student. I mean, you don’t need money or class to get vengeance—that takes cunning and patience. Revenge needs dedication, and that kind of dedication needs hatred. But you?” Silver Spoon’s hoof traced over the string of pearls Diamond Tiara had given her for her cuteceañera. “It doesn’t sound like you hated Pot Luck, and I don’t think you wanted revenge, either. I think you felt hurt and wanted your friend back.”
Silver spread her hooves in a little shrug. “And that’s why you’re not Wisteria material. It doesn’t mean you’re any better or worse, it’s just a fact. Some ponies aren’t meant for some places.”
“Tch, easy for you to say. You didn’t get kicked out.” Toola Roola knocked back her tea in one long gulp.
Silver began to argue that leaving in disgrace was hardly better, but something about Toola’s tone gave her pause. How much did she really know? She steepled her hooves, tilting her ears forward curiously.
Toola Roola rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t get cute, Silver Spoon. Everypony knows you left and got the early drop on one of the fastest growing towns in Equestria—one with a top-line fashion designer and a princess! Brights Brightly says your family got insider information, and that’s why you moved here so fast.”
“I knew that unicorn couldn’t keep a secret.” The smile spreading across Silver’s face bordered on unseemly, but she couldn’t help it.
Maybe her old school had fostered more alliances than friendships, but the few she’d made there still held fast. Bless you to the stars, Brights.
It also gave a perfect segue back to the reason for this tea in the first place. Silver gestured to the pretty little schoolyard beyond the window. It’d look prettier with a fresh coat of snow, but whatever. “In that case, you must already know how lucky you are to be in Ponyville.”
“I don’t feel so lucky. My mom and dad aren’t too happy about my getting expelled and all my friends are back home. Or hate me.” Toola Roola followed Silver Spoon’s gaze to the window. She drew in the feast of new playground equipment with Project X centerpiecing the whole thing. “Gotta admit, you guys do have a pretty good playground… be better if I had somepony to play on it with, though.”
Outside, Sweetie Belle passed by the fence. She’d been bundled up tighter than a mummy, with only her eyes and reddened nose poked out from under her hat. When she noticed Silver Spoon and Toola Roola in the window, she smiled and waved.
Silver waved back. “That’s the nice thing about friends: you never stop making them. Lucky for you, Ponyville’s the friendliest place in Equestria. I’m pretty sure it’s literally impossible to come here and not get at least two new friends by the end of the week.”
Granted, it had taken Silver Spoon almost two weeks, but she considered herself the exception, not the rule.
“How about this? I know a unicorn who likes to draw almost as much as you like to paint. We’ll stop by her place and I’ll introduce you during the newbie tour.”
Said tour would begin in a few minutes, too, judging by the near-empty teapot. Silver pulled the new and improved route map from her saddlebag. The revamp now covered all major landmarks and also hit all the focal points for the fourteen-and-under crowd, including the lake, the new playground, and homes of other new students.
Had Coconut Cream connected with anypony yet? Silver didn’t think so. She circled Coconut’s house in purple. “I’m guessing you’ve already met Pinkie Pie?”
Sprinklings of green confetti tinkled out of Toola Roola’s tail when she flicked it. “Yeah, about that. She um… shot a cannon at my face? We sang a song I didn’t know the words to, and I ate some cake, and I’m not really sure what happened?”
“What happened is Pinkie’s your new friend whether you like it or not.”
“Oh.” Toola scrunched her face. “Is that… normal?”
“For Ponyville?” Silver laughed. “Yeah, pretty much. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
The breeze rustled through the curtains and the temperature plummeted. Miles above the schoolhouse, something rumbled ominously.
Silver wrapped her scarf around her neck and stuck her head out the window, with Toola Roola standing on her back hooves to see over her head. One by one, all the other ponies outside stopped to look, too.
The visiting city of Cloudsdale thundered above the rooftops. Lightning licked the blue skies. Dark thick clouds blossomed out of season, and electricity spat and sparked in the center of it.
In the street, somepony cried, “The weather factory’s gone haywire!”
A massive shadow fell over Ponyville. Something big and white and wide and BIG was falling for them. Fast.
Toola Roola gulped. “I think we should close that wind—”
PLOFF!
Everything went white and quiet.
After a few moments, Silver Spoon’s head popped out of the snowbank that used to be her chair. Beside her, Toola Roola spat out a mouthful of snow.
Silver sighed and dumped the remains of her tea out the window. A steady stream of slush poured into a bush. “You’ll get used to that, too.”