//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3: Model Citizen 
// Story: Roam-Springa 
// by Pascoite 
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“Leaving Ponyville so abruptly had to be the worst mistake I ever made.” Talking so much had made my mouth run dry, but if the young mare didn’t want to be interrupted with a drink, I could press on. Knowing Cup Cake, she’d probably slip in momentarily with some tea anyway, without my having to ask.

“It wasn’t fair to anypony involved—not Cup Cake, not me, and certainly not Mayor Mare. I had to jump at the chance, though. When else would I get an opportunity to live the high life?” As if I’d even known what the high life was. “Most mares on their roam-springa would dream of standing in the front row, within reach of the stars on stage. I got to be one of those stars, however briefly.”

This wouldn’t work. I croaked out a “pardon me” and walked to the door, but as soon as I’d opened it, Cup Cake hustled over to me with a tray.

“I had some refreshment ready for you, but I didn’t want to interrupt. Would you like some tea?” she said.

Reliable Mrs. Cake. “Thank you,” I said, reaching for the tray, but she maneuvered it away from me and clicked her tongue.

“You’re my guest. I’ll serve you.” Then she turned to the young mare. “Would you like some, too?” Pursed lips, then a quick nod. Cup Cake set out two cups and poured.

“This was my home, too, for a while,” I reminded her.

She merely grinned. “And some of the most fun this house has ever seen.”

So I picked up my cup. Just from the feel of it, it was too hot to drink quite yet, but I did take one of the pecan twirls on the plate Cup Cake left. “One of Mayor Mare’s favorites,” I murmured. And another soft grin from Cup Cake as she quietly shut the door behind her.

I kept watching the wood surface even after it had closed. A little line on it—no, on my pair of glasses. I should get the cracked lens replaced. I didn’t have the heart, though—it’d remained my faithful companion for decades.

“Ah, where were we?” A little too hot, still, but I took a swallow of tea anyway, just to wet my throat. The young mare didn’t reply, only watching me with her bright eyes. “Yes, my first trip to Manehattan.”

I blew across my tea, just to cool it off enough to get a little more down, and quickly ate the pecan twirl. Then I cleared my throat. “Yes, if I’d found Ponyville overwhelming, then I hadn’t even begun to conceive of what a city like Manehattan could do to me. But I began to get the picture well before I actually arrived there.”





The train bumped and jostled over the tracks, countryside flashing past faster than I’d ever seen before. Mostly trees, but the occasional grand bridge, and more small towns than I knew existed. Who could sleep through that?

For the last half hour, lights! Sparkling like stars, but colorful, constant. Well above the trees, and they only rose higher and higher the closer we got! The sun had set hours ago, so I couldn’t make out what shapes existed to loft those intense firefly-points up there. Maybe the city employed pegasi to welcome visitors?

But then we pulled into town, and the streets, flooded with light, buildings towering overhead! What even kept them from falling? They seemingly arched over, threatening to collapse on me, and I sidled away from the window, against the sleeping form of whatever member of Prim Hemline’s staff had taken the seat next to me.

And all the ponies! Dozens of dozens of dozens! Perhaps a million of them.

My heart raced until it hurt, and I ducked my head below the seat to breathe, to keep the lightheadedness from washing over me. I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could and strained to keep the tears in. How would I survive here? Did every town have somepony like Cup Cake?

When the train lurched to a halt, I only sat there. The ponies around me all stood, got down bags of equipment from the overhead racks. Several absolutely beautiful mares at the other end of the car towed out huge wheeled suitcases. I had only my small pair of saddlebags. Eventually, the car emptied out, and I sat there a minute longer. Many other tracks and many other trains out there, clanking and pinging and steaming, and outside the tall, ornate windows lining the immense room containing it all, spotlights pierced into the dark sky. A clock on a small pillar next to the track read six minutes until midnight.

Just as I got up, the lights in the car extinguished.

So I hurried out, and—where had everypony gone? Nothing to the left, and to the right, up a wide marble staircase, a stallion that maybe I thought I’d seen on the train. I rushed to catch up, past cafes and newspaper stands chained shut for the night, and into the street.

Not a dirt road, but paved, and slick with rain, though none fell now. It only doubled everything, reflecting lights and bodies and carts, all crowding me in from above and below, and not one familiar face. I sank to my knees, and there was no stopping the tears now. If only I had my pair of blinders!

Then I felt a hoof on my shoulder. I gasped and looked up at—

“There’s my new star,” Prim said with a smile. “Come along. The hotel is this way.” She angled her head up the road, and with a gulp, I followed her. Even at this late hour, more ponies than I thought could live in the entire nation hustled past me. After crossing four intersections, we arrived at a building straight out of fantasy: golden light spilling out, gleaming carved marble, glass, flags, and it kept going up and up and up! It must have been a hundred floors tall! I’d never seen an inn with more than three—who could possibly need such heights?

“Come along,” Prim repeated, tugging my saddlebag strap. I trailed after her again, through some giant spinning door that almost snared my leg, and to the front desk. An eagerly smiling employee immediately approached her, leaving a family in floral print shirts grumbling as they waited.

“Miss Hemline!” she said, her voice all oily. “Good to see you again. We have your usual block of rooms ready.”

Prim nodded and pointed a hoof at me. “Thank you. And please add one more, if you would.”

The clerk gave me a once-over, her eyes pausing on my hairbun, glasses, and faded gray dress, then shrugged. “I have one on the floor below, if that will do.”

“Nicely.”

How much would even a single night here cost? I unbuckled my saddlebag, retrieved my coin purse, and pushed it onto the counter. “Is this enough?”

Prim only chuckled. “I appreciate you not taking things for granted, but it’s a business expense. Your food and lodging are covered.” Then she turned back to the clerk. “Add it to my tab.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Turning her nose up, she slapped a hoof against a small bell. “Room nine thirteen.”

A young earth pony stallion in a red jacket and cap whisked up beside me and—he lifted off my saddlebags!

“Thief!” I shouted, and cocked a hind leg to give him a kick he’d never forget, and right away, he dropped to the floor and covered his head.

“No, no!” Prim yelled, waving her hooves. “He’s a bellhop!”

“Bellhop?” I said through bared teeth.

“He’ll carry your bags for you.”

I put my leg down, but I watched him like a hawk as he led me and Prim into a small, cramped room and shut the door behind us. It didn’t have a bed! Who could possibly want to stay here? It even shook and rattled, but then he opened the door again, and—

The city, laid out before me, going on without end. I stepped out into the hall—a different hall than when I’d gotten in and—of course. We’d gone up. Somehow.

Gaping, I walked up to the window, and in its reflection, I could see Prim and the young stallion wearing enormous smiles. I tapped a hoof against the glass and scanned the eternal sea of lights from one side to the other, then up at the buildings, still looming over even at this height, then down to—

I let out a little shriek and scurried back until I had my rump to the wall. So high up!

By then, the other two had emerged as well, and Prim corralled me along with her, even as I took refuge against the wall. “Your room’s right down here. The rest of us are one floor up, so please ask if you need anything. Other than that, just be down in the lobby by noon. Okay?”

I nodded, and she pressed a couple of coins into the stallion’s hoof before leaving.

Then he opened a door and beckoned me in. “Would you like me to show you around?” he asked, setting a room key on the table by the entryway. I rushed in, just to get away from that dizzying altitude. I much preferred staying on the ground or underneath it, though I suppose gazing down into our family’s quarry wasn’t that different.

A gigantic room, as big as Sugarcube Corner’s salesroom and kitchen combined. A huge bed, washroom, balcony, another steaming tub out there for some reason. “Um… no. Thank you.”

Everything shiny and polished. At least a lot of it was black. He started to leave, and—oh, Prim had given him a tip? Maybe that meant I should, too? Ponies often gave me two or three bits on orders less than ten. I had no idea how much this room cost. I pulled out my coin purse again and dug through it, coming up with… twelve coins. “Here.”

His face lit up like the ostentatious displays outside, and he saluted smartly. “Wow, thank you very much! If you need anything, just ring—” he poked a hoof at a pull rope near the door “—and I’ll get it for you. Please enjoy your stay with us!”

Then he left.

I turned down the lamps and collapsed on the bed, but too many voices in the streets below, the incessant thrumming of that tub outside, thumping from the hallway and rooms above me—none of it would let me slow down and relax!

I curled up and pulled the blanket around me, way over on the edge of the mattress, and imagined Cup Cake on the other side, reading one of her books.





Not a wink of sleep. I stared at my bloodshot eyes in the washroom mirror, then tried to climb back in bed, but the sun had come out. Not gradually, like it used to do at home, peeking through the little gaps between branches and leaves, before finally revealing itself. This one just popped up from behind the jagged outline of buildings, from nothing to everything in an instant.

“Hi-choo!” Number one. “Hi-choo!” And number two. No chance of going to sleep now. And over five hours until… whatever happened at noon. So I walked over and tugged on the soft rope near the door, but nothing happened, and I plopped down on the sofa. I could work on the quilt for Cup Cake, but a foggy head would lead to too many mistakes, and nothing drained my enthusiasm like having to resew the identical block.

Then a knock at the door. “It’s open!” I called, and the same young stallion from last night entered.

“Yes, ma’am? What can I get you?”

“Dost thou have any pecan twirls?” Mayor Mare’s favorite. They must be famous all over Equestria.

He wrinkled his brow. “Pecan… twirls? I don’t know what that is. But we do have praline waffles. I bet you’d like those.”

Had Igneous Rock ever tried pecans? I could barely make my head move, so I just nodded and slumped further into the cushions. At some point, maybe a minute later, maybe an hour, he knocked again and wheeled in a cart with something very sweet-smelling on it. I waved a hoof at my coin purse on the bedside table. “Is this enough?” I mumbled.

“It gets charged to the room, ma’am, and that goes on Miss Hemline’s tab. Don’t you worry about it.”

“Okay,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut for a few seconds.

“And ma’am? It’s probably not a good idea to leave your money lying around like that. Or showing it in public. Not in this town.”

I would have thanked him, but when I looked again, he’d gone. So I lurched my way over to the cart and cut myself a bite. It tasted nothing like Cup Cake’s pecan twirls. I left the rest uneaten and returned to the sofa.





The coffee that had come with the waffles at least had me feeling a bit more energetic now as I waited for the strange room that would take me back to the lobby. I’d knocked on the door several times, but nopony would answer. Luckily I found a staircase nearby and used it instead. Good exercise that way, and if it kept my flanks how Mayor Mare liked them, then so much the better.

I didn’t want to think about her right now! Ugh! Good thing I hadn’t put on any makeup this morning. Maybe this town would make me grow up past the need to cry. Had I ever cried over Igneous Rock? Well… yes. Yes, I had, when he befriended those twin girls on the school playground, and I felt like he wasn’t paying me enough attention. Over ten years ago, when I’d barely gotten my cutie mark. Not since then, though, and because I never had reason to. When my dog died, when I missed a month of school with a bad illness, when I reached that awkward age of being all knees and elbows and odd proportions worse than most, inviting ridicule. He’d stuck by my side. As much as Mayor Mare had tried to make me feel comfortable, Igneous Rock always had, too.

Business today, though. I needed to look my best, so I’d done up my bun extra tight, face pristine, simple collar, and my glasses. I sniffled hard and wiped my eyes dry, then out into the lobby I trotted, and it looked like most of the group had assembled already. Those very pretty mares I’d noticed on the train lounged on cushy chairs, stifling yawns. Were they also unused to the nighttime noise and bustle of the city?

Prim Hemline came over from behind them, her eyes bright, and much perkier than anypony else around. “Good, good—you made it down. Did you sleep well?” she said. I shook my head and blinked hard. “Well, the girls can help you with an energy drink. Just hang by the other models, and they’ll show you the ropes. Okay?”

Nothing to do but nod. “Still waiting on two of the photographers and one mare from wardrobe,” she continued. “Then we’ll head over to the shoot.”

She wandered off, flitting between various ponies like a hyperactive butterfly, so I walked over to the beautiful mares. I’d already had a coffee, but if Prim wanted me to get an energy drink, whatever that was, I should respect her wishes. Good ponies fulfilled expectations.

“Hey, um,” I said, approaching them. “Prim Hemline said—she said I should get an energy drink?” Most of them didn’t even turn to face me. Maybe they hadn’t heard. But the three closest ones glanced my way, their eyes lingering on my hair.

“Oh, are you one of the gofers? I don’t know why she’d ask you for an energy drink—she doesn’t touch the stuff.” They all had very lovely cutie marks: an ornate mirror, a palm tree on a sandy beach, and a quartet of shiny golden shoes. I had three rocks.

“N-no, for me.”

The one who’d spoken stifled a laugh. “Why would she care if the backstage help was dragging?”

“I’m…” They didn’t wait for my answer, already turning back to their colleagues. “I’m the new model. Hath she not told thee?”

All three heads whipped around toward me so quickly I might have feared they’d broken their necks. “Well, would you look at that?” the one with the mirror cutie mark said. “Looks like she’s after your job, High Heels.”

The shoe one—High Heels, I guessed—rolled her eyes. “Sunny Shore, Powder Puff, just worry about yourselves, okay?”

“Is she joking?” Sunny Shore added. “Just look at her!”

High Heels corralled the other two along, but she did flash me a smile. “Don’t let them get to you,” she hissed, and leaned her head toward a cooler on the ground next to some of the camera equipment.

So I fiddled with the latch, and sure enough, a bunch of cans filled it to the brim. I opened one, took a sip, and, well, kind of funny tasting. But within a couple minutes, I did feel more alert.

“Alright, everypony!” Prim barked above the crowd’s noise. “To the studio, next door. I want to see everypony set up and ready to go in half an hour. We have a tight schedule, and I need you all to make my new winter dress collection look its best!”

Only a small can, so I drank it down quickly and moved with the mass of ponies, vaguely keeping High Heels in sight. Wherever she went, I was presumably supposed to go. Outside, far more ponies than I’d encountered last night filed up and down the sidewalks, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. That equine tide of fashion swept me along, into the next building over, and I managed to break off from the main current to trail High Heels into a room with a long row of lighted mirrors and elevated seats in front of them.

The pretty mares each chose one and sat there, doing nothing. With no better option, I did as well. But I couldn’t help glancing around the room. Some kind of carts lined the far wall, and I recognized a few makeup containers on them. Oughtn’t I go get one? Or did I need to wait my turn?

Then a purple pegasus mare appeared at my side, draping a cloth around my neck before even looking up, and when she finally did, she flinched. “Whoa! Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“I… No, I’m not…”

A hoof touched my shoulder gently, and I heard Prim’s steady voice behind me. “This is my new model—” She swiveled my stool around to face her. “I’m sorry, but I don’t seem to have ever asked your name.”

“Cloudy Quartz.”

“Hm,” Prim said, holding a hoof to her chin. “Not too memorable as a stage name. Something that works with your cutie mark. How about… Crystal Essence?”

I didn’t answer, only gaped back at Prim and the other mare. I got a quick glimpse of her cutie mark: a makeup brush. “I like it!” she said. But I got the feeling she would have said that no matter what.

“Glitter Glow here will do your makeup, and—” She craned her neck up to see over the mass of bodies. “Pixie Cut! I need you over here!”

They carried on a mumbled discussion beside me for a moment until a green unicorn mare with a hair dryer and brush on her flank arrived. “Pixie will do your hair,” Prim continued.

“Hi, there!” Pixie said, waving a hoof furiously. She grinned so big that I couldn’t help joining her.

But Glitter Glow just scowled. “I can only do so much,” she muttered.

“Observe,” Prim replied, reaching for my bun. I gritted my teeth as she undid it, and I soon felt the locks tumbling down my neck like a rockslide. I’d let close friends see me this way, and Cup Cake had convinced me to wear my hair down in front of the customers. But all these ponies? For a picture that might go in a magazine all over Equestria? A tremor shot down my back.

“Ooh, I see what you mean,” Glitter Glow said. “Yeah, she could be front-row material.” Whatever that meant.

Pixie clapped her hooves and reached for a pair of scissors, but Prim shook her head. “No, leave it long. Shape it up, fine, but don’t cut it. Not a single inch.”

And Pixie flicked a salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

Glitter Glow immediately got to work, and I recognized most of the products: foundation, eye shadow, rouge, lipstick. But she absolutely slathered it on. I felt like an iced cake, a painted fence. “Are you sure—?”

“Look,” she snapped, “I know my job. Let me do it, okay?” Too much! Like a clown, covered in greasy white, and a cream pie in the face for good measure. This couldn’t be right! But every time I fidgeted in my seat, she glared at me.

I held the tears in. I don’t know how, but I did. And then after bumping my glasses for the fourth time while leaning in with her eye pencil, she forced out a rough sigh and lifted them off my head.

And tossed them in the trash can.

“Look, honey, I’m doing you a favor,” she said, one eyebrow raised as if imparting some secret truth.

My lip quivered, and I began to cry. It took Glitter Glow a moment to notice, but when she did, she uttered a very untoward word. But my glasses! They were a gift from a dear friend, and—“Stop that, or the makeup will run,” she said, dabbing at my cheeks with a cloth.

If only it were that simple. I’d get it under control, only to glance down at the chain still hanging over the wastebasket’s edge, and I would start all over again, imagining her so easily discarding Mayor Mare along with them!

Finally, Glitter Glow took a white towel and wiped off my whole face, smirking as she shoved it against my nose. “Looks like I’m gonna have to use the waterproof stuff. Good luck getting into the front row with that on.”

It lived up to its name. She daubed away at my face, tears and all, then strode off as if she’d rather go feed her cat or something. Next, Pixie Cut stepped up. Still only halfway through this ordeal.

But she smiled meekly and bent down to retrieve my glasses from the trash. “Sorry about her,” she said. “Just tuck those away and keep them out of sight.” I didn’t have my saddlebags with me though! I cast about for somewhere to hide them, and her eyes widened. “Oh, you didn’t know! This is your station. Put them in here.” She opened a drawer in the counter in front of me. “Nopony will take them.”

I reached out, let them dangle. She nodded. And in they went. I put my collar in, too, since the whole point of the day was to dress me up, or so I gathered. They wouldn’t let me keep it on, and might they simply throw that in the trash, too?

Her smile now fully restored, she fussed with my mane a bit. “You have really beautiful hair! You shouldn’t wear it pulled back so tight, though. It’s not good for the pores on your forehead. Might even give you headaches.”

“Oh. Okay.” I’d never seemed to suffer either of those problems, but then I probably wouldn’t know if I did.

She rushed off for a second, then returned with a different one of those carts. A spray bottle, something that looked like a tube of toothpaste, and a small pair of scissors floated in her magical grip, but first, she mussed up the sides and tested a couple of different shapes.

“You really ought to switch shampoos. Whatever you’re using now is leaving your mane dry and kind of brittle.”

“I use soap.”

She blinked at me. “Yeah, that’d do it. So, I think I’ll put in some relaxer to make it hang straighter. Not many mares can pull off really long hair, but you look like a knockout with it. Not too big, though—that hasn’t made the rounds back to fashionable yet, so we’ll thin it out a little, maybe add a highlight or two.” Her grin radiated even bigger than before. “I mean, you’re pretty already.” I’d started to wonder, given Glitter Glow’s reaction, along with those other models. Yet Cup Cake’s customers always seemed to think so. “But you’re going to look stunning.”





High Heels had welcomed me onto the set. I dutifully assumed my place in the back row as all of the models took their poses. In a horribly stiff dress, too. I could scarcely crouch down in it, and it poked and jabbed me no matter which way I moved. Not to mention that without my glasses, the photographers looked a little blurry, and I couldn’t always tell which way they pointed for me to go.

But I did okay, if I could judge by Prim’s reaction. She’d confined herself to watching so far, but then she spoke up. “Cloudy—” she turned to face a stallion holding a notepad “—make sure you refer to her as ‘Crystal Essence’ in the media guide.” And back to facing me again. “I want you front and center, right there between High Heels and Sunny Shore.”

My heart stopped. High Heels, sure, but I’d never live this down with Sunny Shore. She hated me already, from first sight. But the glare High Heels shot me…

Then she directed it toward the cameras, but a little off to the side, to the darkness beyond, at—Glitter Glow’s head snapped up as if she’d just recognized the pony in front of her from a wanted poster, and the words popped out of her throat like a geyser: “Oh, I had to use the waterproof makeup on her,” she said to Prim. “Wouldn’t stop crying,” she added, feigning to shield her voice with the back of a hoof. But she’d spoken plenty loud, enough for the whole room to hear. “It’s a little glossier, and it wouldn’t look right in the photos.”

Hadn’t she just called me “front-row material” in the dressing room? Prim wrinkled her brow and glanced at Glitter as if she’d gone barking mad. “This isn’t a poster shoot. It’s for a magazine article, and the pictures in there are so small that nopony will be able to tell. And we can do her cover shot tomorrow.”

“Cover?” High Heels said, the word baring venomous fangs.

Like coaxing a newborn lamb to a meadow, Prim beckoned to me. “Come on. Front row. I promise it won’t hurt.”

Little by little, I picked my way forward. I kept my eyes on the floor; I didn’t need to look up to feel the barbs and stings from the other models’ sharp looks. I’d barely spent half a day with them, and I’d already figured out how things worked here. Finally, a quick learner.

But I stood there, in the middle.

“Wow, yeah!” said the photographer. “She’s gorgeous. Why was she hiding in the back?”

My cheeks burned, but nopony could have noticed them beneath the thick blanket of cosmetics. Hiding would have been easier, but good ponies lived up to their agreements.

So the rest of the day went. Many changes of backdrop and outfit, half the ponies telling me I looked fantastic and the other half wearing smiles just as painted on as my eye shadow, their stares telling me I didn’t belong here and I should go back home and they’d do whatever it took to make that happen. I couldn’t say they were wrong.

Try new things, though. I’d learned a lot in only a day. Maybe I’d soon learn enough to get by.

I once again kept my distance from the pack of models wandering their way back to the hotel and grumbling about eight-hour workdays and how they had to get out of bed before noon again tomorrow. The only time in my life I’d ever slept past noon was when I had a particularly bad case of the flu.

The hotel lobby had catering ready for us—if not for Cup Cake, I wouldn’t even know what catering was. Most of the food was indecipherable, but one stallion crewed a table where he’d make pancakes by request. Well, he called them crepes, but they sure looked like pancakes. Still, I’d left my coin purse in my room.

So I rushed up, only quick enough to snatch my money off the table by the door without even glancing at the shameful disarray I’d left my room in, and back down, then out of breath, I strolled up to him as if I fit in and plopped down my purse in front of him. “Is this enough?” I panted.

“It’s complimentary, ma’am,” he replied, his brow creased.

“Oh… then I would like one,” I said, very clearly fitting in.

He gestured around at the array of toppings and fillings he had. It reminded me of the ore samples we’d take in to the assay office when we had a load from the quarry to sell. “What kind?” he asked.

“Surprise me.”

But he hesitated over several of the bowls and flicked his eyes toward the other models. “Granite,” I said, and he giggled politely. Yes, no way I could have meant that as anything but a joke. Only backwards country folk ate rocks, of course. “Pecan.” He smiled and very expertly tossed my order around in his pan until it’d toasted a nice bronze. I should have brought my saddlebags down, since I now had to accommodate both my purse and the plate in my mouth, but I managed.

“You’re not actually going to eat, are you?”

I whirled around, nearly launching my pancake at High Heels. Even if I wanted to answer her, I couldn’t have produced anything more than a mumble.

“Free tip from me, and the last one you’ll get: energy drinks are all you need. Especially with a belly like that.”  She jabbed her muzzle toward my stomach, and I looked down at it, just long enough to almost lose my crepe again. But when I turned back, she’d left.

I thought farm work had kept me in good shape. Had I lost that while in Ponyville? I’d toiled just as hard and eaten healthy. Maybe. Maybe High Heels was right.

Suddenly I didn’t feel like having other ponies around me. I headed for the stairs, but Pixie Cut intercepted me, wearing that same enthusiastic grin she’d had this morning. “You did great today! And I’m really pleased with how your hair turned out,” she said, batting at the ends of my mane.

“I-I thank thee,” I answered quietly without looking at her. As tactfully as I could manage, I detoured around her and climbed up to my floor. Apparently, I needed the exercise, but I found the stairs strangely comforting. Quiet, echoing, somewhat dim, rather like a mine shaft. Then into my room, set the crepe down, and finally moved to clean up—

The bed was made. And the cart from breakfast gone. Had somepony come in here? Why would they? I checked the washroom, in case they were still here, but nothing. While in there, though… I hadn’t gotten a good look at my mane this morning. So I peered into the immense mirror.

The humid air had the tips curling up, just a bit. I’d retrieved my glasses from the dressing room earlier, so I put them on, along with my collar. I still preferred the bun, but I did look—

I looked pretty. Far too much makeup, so I took off the glasses and bent over the basin to wash my face thoroughly. Then I replaced my glasses and struck one of the poses I’d learned today, blowing a kiss at my reflection.

I looked pretty. I did, and why would that make me cry?

No, no tears, and—I shook my head, hard, and lurched over to my plate, the crepe no longer giving off any warmth as I sniffed at it. Just one bite.

It tasted nothing like Cup Cake’s pecan twirls.





My stomach growled, even though I’d already had two energy drinks today. I didn’t know how those other models managed it.

Who cared anyway? They’d made it plainly obvious I wasn’t welcome in their club, and Glitter Glow didn’t much like me, either. But Pixie Cut did, and Prim, though she was far too busy for me to burden her with anything.

I guessed I could say the same of Pixie Cut. I only spent five or ten minutes in prep with her each day, yet somepony with that level of vitality managed to pack in several hours’ worth of conversation. So kind! Should I kiss her? Wait, no, no, I’d made that mistake already, taking Cup Cake’s friendliness as—but then Mayor Mare had confused the issue, a-and I didn’t know. I didn’t know anymore. I needed to think about it more. Later. I hadn’t proven a very quick learner at that.

But today! Today, a school group had come during our rehearsal, and the fillies all lined up for autographs. Well, not really a line, as they gathered around me. Many dozens, and I signed for every one of them. “Crystal Essence,” which would mean a lot more to them than “Cloudy Quartz.” The other models had all left long ago after greeting only a paltry few students, and that had called an end to any sort of organized queue.

“Ooh, you’re pretty!” one of the fillies said, and the rest all chimed in with a “yeah!”

That should have made me happy. So why did I feel a weight dragging my heart down? “Thank you,” I replied softly.

“We heard you talk cool!” another added from the back somewhere. “Can we hear?” Then another chorus of “yeah”s.

“What are thy names?” I asked the twins holding out a pen and a small ledger-style book, eliciting a bunch of grins.

“Starry Night.”

“Iris.”

Their eyes glimmered. To Starry Night and Iris, I wrote in their autograph book, never give up on your dreams! “What dost thou want to be when thou growest up?” I asked Iris.

“A model!” they said in unison.

By now, I could put on as convincing a fake smile as I needed. “Wonderful! Just work hard, and thou canst be whatever thou wantest! But promise me one thing.” They leaned in closer, nodding, and my jaw relaxed. A real smile now. “Make sure it’s really what thou wantest. Be true to thyself.” Good ponies didn’t pretend at what they weren’t, I might have added.

“Okay!”

It took two and a half hours to get through everypony, but they were the best two and a half hours I’d spent during my entire time here. Not a quick sign and wave to get to the next one. I really talked to them, and they got swept into their own little discussions, popping up here and there like dust devils to entrain one filly and deposit another conversing back with me again, all of them copying my speech. Pixie Cut watched the whole time, a huge smile on her face, and I told the fillies that they should get her autograph as well, that I couldn’t do my job without her. But I don’t think many of them did.

Prim had already told us to take the rest of the day off, so I passed by the catering tables and retreated to my room afterward. Just before collapsing on the sofa, I pulled the rope by the door on a whim. Soon enough, a knock sounded. “It’s open!”

The same young stallion walked in. “Can I get you something, ma’am?”

Not really. I didn’t know what had made me summon him. “I talked to a whole group of fillies today. Each one got individual attention, and I gave them all autographs. I loved every minute of it.”

He didn’t answer.

“It’s hard. It’s really hard. Prim’s responsible for too many ponies to devote any time to me, the rest of the models just want to see me fail, so does my makeup artist, only my hair stylist treats me well, and—” I wanted to say Pixie Cut was my only friend, but how did I presume to call her that? We barely interacted. Just because she didn’t mock me didn’t make her a friend. Not like Cup Cake.

Or Mayor Mare! Oh sweet Celestia, a week and a half had already passed, and I hadn’t even begun a letter to her! How could that slip my mind? But what would I even write? “Sorry that I couldn’t be bothered to contact you until now”?

No, she’d prefer “thee.” I sniffled and let the tears run down my cheeks.

He remained silent for a moment more, then: “Ma’am?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t keep you from your job.”

He shuffled his hooves on the tile. “I’m going off duty in five minutes. I was about to take my lunch break.”

I cocked my head toward the table and the pecan crepe I’d just brought upstairs, only one bite taken from it, same as every day. Did he know that, or did the maid discard it? I’d only yesterday discovered that was how my bed had gotten made. Wasteful, having somepony clear the room for me when I could do it perfectly well myself. I’d never shirked chores in Ponyville or at home. Good ponies pulled their own weight. “You’re welcome to have that. I don’t want it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t usually get food that nice.”

With a nod, I turned my back to him and faced out the window, over the cityscape sparkling in the early afternoon sun as crystals on our farm. I’d barely slept a few hours since coming here, and the fatigue came crashing over my head, like a wagonload of flour sacks.

I leaned into the cushions and closed my eyes. “Wouldst thou sit with me?”

He didn’t reply at first. “Mmhmm,” he finally mumbled over a mouthful of crepe. And there he sat, at the far end of the sofa, watching the same view, but fidgeting. He might have already used up his lunch break.

“I don’t even know your name,” I said.

“Oddly enough, Bell Hop,” he answered with a chuckle.

That made me smile: somepony with some genuine mirth. I tried opening my eyes, but they would only go halfway. “Bell Hop,” I slurred.

Then he gave me a curious glance. “I didn’t think models got lonely. You’re surrounded by admirers all the time.”

An unsteady breath out, tremulous, and more tears swelled in the corners of my eyes. “Just sit with me. Please.”

Whatever had flustered him, it had gone; he no longer tapped his hind leg against the sofa, only smiled at me as he might an old acquaintance. “Of course. I’ll sit with you.”

“Thank you.” I kissed him on the cheek and slumped into the cushions again, my eyes drifting closed. Maybe he kept staring out that window, but the view was nothing new to him. I just knew that that terribly big, terribly empty room wasn’t so terrible anymore, not with a friend in it.





I awoke almost ten hours later, the city lights gleaming at me across the black horizon. The cushion where Bell Hop had sat, still with a depression in it, but empty now. How long had he stayed before he had to go back to work? Even so, that he was willing to waste time sitting there at all to indulge a foolish mare calmed my heart. Just like Igneous Rock, after my favorite grandmother passed. Not a word, only sitting beside me as I cried for hours. Good ponies lived in this town, too.

Ten days of this already. Tomorrow, we had a trip to Canterlot scheduled for another publicity event. Train left at noon, I thought I remembered Prim telling me. More photo shoots and runway shows, more Glitter Glow and High Heels. Maybe a new town would earn me a new start. Or maybe I’d become an even bigger star and be able to work alone.

I needed some fresh air, but that balcony spooked me, with only a thin wall between me and a nine-floor drop, plus that tub out there and its incessant hissing and bubbling. It reminded me of the mineral springs back home, but no way they had one of those on the ninth floor of a building. Who kept refilling it with hot water? I hadn’t asked for any.

So I took the stairs to the lobby, intent on walking around the streets for a while. But not far from the front door sat Pixie Cut, on some of the lounge furniture, with a book. She jerked her head up when I sat down beside her.

“Oh! Crystal Ess—I mean Cloudy Quartz!”

“Hi, Pixie.” It was a little odd to see her this calm and quiet. Normally, she operated at a frenetic pace.

She frowned. “You don’t look good. Are you okay?”

Funny, I had my hair down, and I’d just had my best sleep in nearly a week. I could only shrug. In one swift motion, she slid a bookmark in her spot and set her book on the table. One of the romance novels Cup Cake liked. The image alone: Cup Cake with her nose practically stuffed into the pages and our new electric fan ruffling her hair. I had to grin.

“There it is!” she said, patting my shoulder. The longer I said nothing, though, the more her smile decayed. “Didn’t want in on the party?”

“Hm?”

She rolled her eyes. “Big one, right next to my room. I couldn’t find any peace and quiet up there.”

Must have been at the other end of the building. I couldn’t hear anything from my room. “No, I don’t really get parties. I’d prefer something simple and small.”

A quick smile, and she nodded, her dark green mane waving around her horn like grass in a summer breeze. “You’re welcome to sit here and read with me. If you didn’t bring a book, I have several.”

I did bring a book. And I hadn’t read a page of its poetry since leaving Ponyville.

When I began to cry, her face fell. “I want you to know it’s meant a lot to me that you were friendly,” I said as I stood up. “Thank you for that.”

I didn’t mean to upset her, I really didn’t, but her eyes widened. “That sounds like a good-bye!”

It kind of did. I shook my head and gave her a light hug. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. We’ll see what Canterlot brings.”

Before I walked out the door and into the night, I spotted Bell Hop waiting for customers by the desk. So I strode up to him and gave him a kiss, on the mouth. Just long enough to make him blush. Maybe a few of the paparazzi covering the party would see that and make a big deal out of him. Maybe he’d like that. But at least I meant it. “And thank you, too,” I said.

Then I hurried into the street, casting only one glance behind me at Pixie Cut, propped up on an elbow and craning her neck to watch. All this pavement, rain-soaked again, just like my first night in Manehattan. A whole world down there as well, a whole world that didn’t want me either.

I’d only been to a few buildings, so I quickly found myself in unfamiliar surroundings, but the hotel still blared skyward in all its lavishness, visible from anywhere. I could always find my way back.

Chilly out tonight, a nip of autumn. If only I could sew on Mayor Mare’s couch again, a quilt draped over both of us, and her helping me while wearing an amused grin. I hadn’t come any closer to finishing Cup Cake’s quilt, either. Up in my room, it sat there, useless, like a washtub with a rust-eaten bottom.

I stomped a hoof in a puddle, sending ripples over the beautiful face staring back at me. Long, luxuriant hair, a gentle frown. Good ponies stayed where they belonged.

Loud tittering echoed from the alley beside me, and an iron door clanked open. High Heels. Immediately, a sour taste worked its way up from my stomach. She staggered out with her friends in tow. Some kind of private party, I guessed, since she was clearly too good for the one any of us could attend. I didn’t need her seeing me, not tonight, but too late. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she slurred. “Didn’t we invite you along?” Powder Puff and Sunny Shore had a nice chuckle at that.

I didn’t need this right now! But arguing with her would prove useless, so I just removed myself from the situation. If I remembered the view from my room right, there was a park a couple of blocks from here. Trees, grass. I could lie down and sleep, under the sky, in the one place that might suit me.

“Don’t you turn your back on me!” High Heels shrieked.

With a grimace, I stopped. But I didn’t face her.

“You think you can just come in here from some nowhere town and be the head mare? You know nothing! I’ve paid my dues, I know how everything works. You’d better start learning, too. In this business, it’s not about your—” she stifled a cough and circled a hoof in the air “—stupid country charm. It’s about who wouldn’t dare cross you.”

I started walking again. No way would I let her see me cry.

Then a different voice, lower-pitched. Glitter Glow. “Just make sure you’re at the train station by three, new girl. You miss your ride, and Prim will have your head.”





I’d slept in the park, hidden away from anypony. By the time I awoke, the sun had arced well into the sky. “Hi-choo!” One. “Hi-choo!” And two.

“Why didn’t you wake me at sunrise?” I said to my nose. The clock on the building across the street read one thirty-three. No time for lunch, but I never ate much anyway. Just a bite of crepe.

So I stood up, but too fast. My head sparkled, and I lost my balance momentarily, catching myself against a tree, and… Whew, I didn’t feel too good. My head pounded like Father’s sledge on a fencepost, and my knees wobbled. If only I could eat something! No way I’d give High Heels anything else to taunt me about, though. But unless this lightheadedness passed, she’d get to ridicule me for planting my face firmly on the ground.

After a good yawn and stretch, I walked back to my room, but taking the stairs left me panting. When we all gathered to leave, somepony would have a cooler of energy drinks anyway.

Plenty of time to pack, but then I didn’t have much. I put my hair up, donned my collar and glasses, along with one of my darker gray dresses. Coin purse, saddlebags. I still had over an hour, but I could doze in the lobby until we departed. On the door, the checkout instructions said to leave the key, so there it stayed on the table.

Like no other day, I really could have used that little room to take me downstairs, but as I leaned my forehead against its deliciously cool metal doors and knocked over and over again, nopony answered. Nopony ever answered. The stairs, then.

And I emerged into an empty lobby.

Sure, I was early, but nopony else had gotten down here to wait? I approached the desk. “Has Prim Hemline’s group come down yet?”

The clerk rubbed a file over her hooves and never looked up. Her answer made my heart thud so hard that I coughed. “Hon, you missed them. Took off a couple of hours ago.”