The school bell rang through its cavernous halls.
Echoing hoofsteps, past the lockers and doors, a motley throng of schoolponies in all shapes and sizes. Bags or no bags; some with glasses, others with hats. Here's a group about to set out on a musical spree, instruments on their backs; there's a crew anxiously discussing what is to come with the surprise quiz next week. Lagging behind, several ponies criticizing the food served in the cafeteria, especially the "horrible soup of the day! It tastes like somepony put mushroom powder and just added water!"
"I talked to Salted Bouillon, and he told me he sneaked to the kitchen just before magic classes were over."
"What did he say?"
"You're right!"
An outpour of laughs and roars, with one classmate rubbing his tongue clean of any residue from that "horrible soup of the day".
But, it is useless to dwell on soups and mushroom powder any longer, for, racing ahead at the front of the pack, was Sweetie Belle and Babs Seed.
Out the huge double doors, down the steps, on to the paved yard.
"What did they tell you?" Sweetie asked, running down the sidewalk and dodging passersby under the sunset sky. "And, why are we galloping all the way to Bridleway?"
"That's because they told me he's substitutin' for some tap dancer at one of those plays!" Babs replied, running out of breath.
Crossing the road, swerved around bustling crowds all before waiting carriages.
On to the other sidewalk.
The streetlights turned on, and several buildings automatically activated their lights.
"Which play?" Sweetie said, still galloping.
"Hoof of the Mountain!"
"What?!"
Babs blew the bangs off her face yet again, speeding at full tilt. "That's not good! We gotta hurry up! Show starts at seven, but, since you said it, there's gonna be a long line!"
"That's not what I'm talking about!"
Babs turned her head.
The two fillies galloping through, everything around them half a blur.
"Back Beat Slider's one of the main characters!" Sweetie yelled. "I haven't watched the musical because I wanted to watch it with Rarity, but he's the tap dancer in the play and I'm certain Tender Taps will play him! I think he's also a main character, and they need lots of practice and lots of preparation before the show starts! We can't just burst in and get him out of there!"
"We're gonna do it anyway!" Babs shouted.
"Do you want to go to jail?!"
Babs smirked, barreling with Sweetie to the next crossing. "Sounds like a better place than the stage, eh?"
They screeched to a halt.
Against the dark night sky, beside the avenues swamped with carriages, and under the glow of signs and colorful billboards proclaiming the name of the show and publicizing its major actors costumed in elaborate attire, a line of eager ponies—and some griffons, yaks, cats, and even a tiny party of breezies.
"We're not going to make it in time!" Sweetie yelled, noticing more ponies about to line up before them.
Babs stepped out of the line. "Not if I can help it! You better stay there and save my spot—let's see what I can do."
"Wait, Babs!"
But, she was already out of sight.
Babs ran to the front of the line, surging by the breezies and sending them off the line and making them roll and scream in the wind like weightless newspapers.
At the enclosed box office, an argument had ensued between the stallion first in line and the mare ahead of him—so far ahead of the line that she was inside the box office, wore a fancy tuxedo, and, due to her extreme advantage over even that first in line, was the very pony to receive the would-be audience's tickets, thus gaining the greatest theatrical honor of not watching the musical at all.
"What do you mean admission won't start until six-thirty?!" the miserable first in line asked, holding his hooves out to her as if he was in a drama of his own.
"That's the rule, sir," was the sublime reply of that esteemed mare.
But, in his capacity as first in line, the stallion did not want to be beaten, even if his foe is that revered and honored mare who would gladly not receive any part of the show for her own entertainment. "I was told by my friends on the inside that they're giving me special access. They told me I would meet and greet the entire troupe, and you're here to tell me otherwise!"
The distinguished and celebrated sole staff member of that important box office made her thoughts known via that stately, unequivocal gesture of her head: shaking it left to right. "I don't care who you are. Princess Cadance herself waited in line like the rest of us for a ticket, and if she's late, she never blamed anyone but herself, so who are you to get inside before six-thirty?"
Babs did not put on a face of dismay at this overwhelming challenge—in fact, it only emboldened her, if her sharp eyes were of any indication.
So, she stepped ahead of the stallion and raised her head toward the mare.
That mighty mare, the great ticket-collector of this prized theater.
Who smiled. "Oh, it's you! Where's Sweetie Belle? You should better hurry!"
"Wait one sec, Season Voucher!"
Babs ran out of the line, turned around.
Saw the long line and Sweetie Belle tilting her head to see her, that face like it was asking her something.
Babs nodded.
Sweetie ran to her.
The two fillies came up to the box.
"Ah, good!" Season Voucher said as they arrived, her cheery attitude still intact. "Your tickets?"
Babs drew up two tickets and hoofed them to the ticket-holder.
She received the tickets. "Alright! Have a good time and I hope you two and Taps get better, OK?"
The two fillies bumped their hooves and trotted toward the row of glass entrance doors, laughing happy.
"How were you able to pull that off, Babs?" Sweetie asked, dumbfounded.
Babs rolled her eyes, smiling. "You gotta know a thing or two in order to get by here. I've been tellin' you that for almost a year now."
The stallion, meanwhile, stammered, staring at Season Voucher with a horrified look. "Wh-Wh-Wh-What?! B-But, h-how?! Y-You—th-them—C-Cadance—are you trying to make me look bad?!"
She put on a firm, unfeeling face. Rested a foreleg on the counter. "Probably."
Ambitious was the Bridleway Theater.
The grass-scented theater house was packed with several series of open wooden benches where a dozen families could sit on one bench and not feel cramped and, therefore, would not be forced to watch standing on that soft and smooth red carpet. The one principal balcony contained its own lineup of benches, providing more seats and an elevated view of the stage.
Hanging from the ceiling were orange stained glass chandeliers, complementing the golden color of the walls with their hoofwriting-esque embellishments almost as tall as the theater itself. The modern lights were smaller and out of the way, nailed to the walls; these also served as spotlights.
Under those spotlights were little mini balconies of their own which could seat about ten ponies at best—the boxes in the theater house, which did not deserve the other word: "office". These were the most luxurious sites in the theater; the best seats in the house, actually. With a curtain as the door for each one, no wonder these were the envy of the high-class, as could be seen by that Canterlot couple over there in one of those spots—the husband examining the frilly chairs with his glasses, the wife whispering words into his ear and then ending them with a haughty giggle.
But, in a normal musical, no one would concentrate on their seats or on the lights. They would watch the actors and actresses on the stage.
This theater's stage was not exactly the biggest stage in all of Equestria, but it was big. Enough to have a backdrop the size of two average homes' walls and enough to hold about fifty ponies in both area and weight, this stage was a considerable platform to hold a fantastic musical on. Behind the huge red curtains, directions were given; conversations were held.
A side door opened and out went Sweetie, Babs, and Tender Taps himself, wearing a suit and a top hat.
"So, 'Back Beat Slider', huh?" Babs said, maintaining her rough attitude. "Kinda' great, considering this is only your second day having a cutie mark."
Taps winced and then glanced at his flank.
There, his cutie mark: a top hat and a ray of spotlight.
Sweetie frowned. "You now have your cutie mark, so..."
"So, what?" Taps asked.
"Well," Babs began, poking him on the chest, "what about you start with how you got yer' cutie mark in the first place? Your Mom and Dad would've told us, but we were already running late for school—which you didn't attend."
Taps gulped, eyes shaky.
They hopped up on a front row bench, stage right across.
Sweeite and Babs veered their heads a bit to listen.
Taps took in a breath.
"When I ran away from you girls back at the park, I...I danced my sorrows away."
Babs crossed her forelegs and snorted.
Sweetie tapped her on the shoulder and gave her a mean look.
"I went to a smaller park—one that had fewer ponies so I had less chances of being watched by a c-crowd. So, I danced...and I danced...and I danced some more. I closed my eyes, just letting it all out. I didn't realize there were ponies gathering around, seeing me dance. When I was done, I opened my eyes—and, I was surprised to see so many ponies—they just watched me dance and I didn't know it! One of them said that I just earned my cutie mark right there! I-I couldn't believe it, but when I looked, it was there!"
Sweetie smiled and patted him on the back.
"But, I'm sure you're wondering how I got here."
"Get to it, already!" Babs moaned.
Sweetie gave her another mean look.
Taps took in another breath. "So, I was at the park, looking at my cutie mark, when the Method Mares came up to me. On Stage told me that their chosen actor for Back Beat Slider, Swing Out, was down with the flu. He called my dancing skills incredible and he asked if he could get permission from my parents to let me fill up for Swing. I mean...I liked musicals and I watched Hoof of the Mountain myself, but to actually be Back Beat Slider and to be up for the job by tonight? That's less than twenty-four hours! Good thing I was a fan...and, it also turned out that my cutie mark could also stand for being good at theater in general! I was able to memorize practically the entire script by heart, I got along well with the other actors there, and rehearsals went off without much of a problem."
And, he smiled.
Sweetie had been gazing upon Taps this whole time with wonder and an open mouth.
Babs rolled her eyes again. "Sorta' sappy, but, hey, if it's true...." Shrugged her shoulders.
Then, Sweetie shook her head out of her daze of amazement. "But, Tender Taps...you got your cutie mark."
Taps nodded. "Yeah."
"And, we...still don't."
"What are you gettin' at?" Babs asked, eyeing her with suspicion.
Sweetie held a hoof up and looked at it. "Does this mean..."
She looked at a baffled Taps.
"Does it mean...you're not a Cutie Mark Crusader?"
Taps jumped out of the bench and stood in front of them, before the stage. "No! Why would I think of leaving you girls? You've supported me ever since we teamed up!"
"But, what are you going to do now that you have your cutie mark?" Sweetie asked. "I mean, you can't crusade for your cutie mark anymore because...you have it."
Babs said nothing, only watching Taps's terrified reaction.
"You're my best friends!" Taps said, reaching his hooves out to them. "Maybe there's another way I could do to help you out. I could still hang out with you—"
"Unlikely," Babs chimed in, crossing her forelegs again. "If you're playing the Back Beat Slider part here, you gotta play it until the real actor gets well—or, if you're that talented, you might stay here for good."
Taps sweated, slowly stepping away.
"Babs?" Sweetie said, prompting her. "This isn't the best time to think up worst-case scenarios."
"Y-You're right!" Taps blurted out, pointing at Babs with a trembling hoof. "What if I'm better than Swing Out? Then, they'll h-hire me—they won't pick me up full-time, but they'll ask me to do it some of the time! That means I have to skip classes, have to do more h-homework, pr-probably move to a homeschool program to make sure I get the parts and the scripts and the dances and the taps—"
Sweetie launched out of the bench.
Grabbed him and shook him.
"Taps! Don't let it get to you!"
His pupils shooting around his eyes from the dizziness like pinballs.
Recovered, stood up on his own. Rubbed his aching head.
"Tender Taps," Sweetie began, "we'll find a way to keep you a Cutie Mark Crusader. You may have your cutie mark, but that doesn't mean that your crusading stops there. You could tell your story about how you got it—" glanced at Babs "—well, it's not the best of stories, but it's a story and it's a real story!"
Babs looked annoyed. "What? I didn't say anything."
It was Sweetie who rolled her eyes. Looked at Taps again. "Taps, you could inspire other colts and fillies to do everything they could to get their cutie mark and find out their true talent—whether they exert all their effort at a few things or do what we did...really try out everything!"
"You think it's gonna work?" Taps asked.
"Yeah! It has to work. There's tons of ponies like us out there who don't know their true place in life—you're going to help out somepony."
Taps removed his top hat, uncovering his mulberry mane now gelled.
A smile broke out.
The side door opened.
A mare wearing a beret. "Taps? Are you almost done? It's five to half past six. They'll be coming here any moment."
Taps almost jumped.
He turned to his two best friends. "A-Are we done?"
Sweetie nodded.
Babs groaned, still seated at the bench.
"I'll take that as a 'Yes', Babs!" Taps said.
Ran off to the door and the mare.
"I'm not late for anything, right, Raspberry Beret?"
Then, he closed the door behind him.
Sweetie Belle and Babs Seed looked at the closed door for a while.
"This was an eventful night," Sweetie commented.
"Don't tell me you're gonna force me to watch the show for him."
Sweetie hopped on to the bench and smiled. "But, we have tickets. It won't do any good to just get out right now."
Babs grumbled, blowing her bangs out. "Fine."
Ten-thirty at night.
The doors to Bridleway Theater were engulfed with a satisfied audience, speaking highly of Hoof of the Mountain. Several ponies yet talked of watching it at least three more times within the coming weekend; most of the griffons in attendance were nodding to themselves, never saying a word yet silently affirming the quality of the musical; the few yaks who were there curtailed their stomping and smashing and mostly kept their endorsement of the show to mere shouts and yells.
Sweetie and Babs trotted out of the crowd, going ahead of them and walking under the flashy lights of the shops and diners they passed by.
"I can't believe I never watched it before!" Sweetie screamed to a Babs staunch enough to not snap at her. "I didn't watch it? Well, I watched it, and I regret never watching it before! Too bad Rarity didn't come, but...it's good! The cast was terrific, the backdrops were alluring, the lights and special effects were phenomenal, and the story was awesome! Did you see the scene where Obscura explodes Shutter Island? When Star Trail talked with the buffaloes while they're sailing in the middle of the Celestial Sea and they didn't know when help would arrive? What about how his family burned their entire farm to make sure Obscura couldn't get the secret recipe? And, when Blind Spot arrived in that alternate dimension? Oh! What did you think of the big reveal when it turns out the fictional Pullback Wing is actually real and the author of the book was him all along? And, let's not forget Taps and his great performance as Back Beat Slider from beginning to end!"
"I didn't forget," Babs answered deadpan. "I was there."
Sweetie covered her mouth, embarrassed. "Whoops! Sorry!"
"Look—you're happy, Taps is happy, I should be happy. The Manehattan CMC's are still together, and we might just be growin'."
"So—" Sweetie grinned "—does this mean you like musicals now?"
"It's alright," Babs replied, laid-back and looking indifferent. "I'm not used to singing everyday, but I can take one musical a month."
"But, next time, we'll have Rarity!"
Babs groaned louder than before. "I'm not letting her braid my mane."
Once again, Sweetie sat on the chair.
Back in her squalid, decrepit, now fragrant room.
The window was closed, the bed was fixed.
By the light of the lamp on the table, a piece of paper.
On her left, a box of quills and a box of inkwells.
"They're going to be jealous!" Sweetie said to herself. "When they realize that Tender Taps got his cutie mark, they're going to scream so loud, they'll break the clubhouse's windows! They're going to ask about everything!"
She tapped her chin with a quill.
"And, this might be what we need to get our cutie marks! If I ask Taps what he did right before he danced—maybe the conditions have to be right..."
She sat there, thinking.
"Eh. I'll let them ask."
So, Sweetie Belle wrote the letter under the lamp's light.
Against the dark of the night.