She knew.
She’s known this entire time, ever since the first day I stepped into Canterlot High, that I couldn’t possibly be who I said I was.
Even though I had no way of knowing at the time, every fiber of my being knew that this was what everybody had hinted at. This was what Sombra felt I deserved to know, and why he couldn’t be the one to tell me. If he had told me the truth back in the coffee shop, there was a good chance that I wouldn’t have believed him. The idea of Celestia keeping something like this from me? I would’ve said it was preposterous an hour ago—that he must have been mistaken.
This was not just some honest mistake, some hazy memory that escaped Celestia’s notice. She had walls of pictures of her student’s accomplishments; she remembered each and every one. The only way for me to have never been told that Principal Celestia had personally taught this world’s Sunset Shimmer was because she didn’t want me to know.
It was a bitter truth to swallow, but the proof was staring me in the face.
It was an image I couldn’t stop staring at either. They both looked so happy in the photo, and so proud of what they had accomplished together. Celestia even had that smile on her face, that wide, beaming look of elation that never seemed to show itself in her pictures at Canterlot High. Everything in that picture just felt so warm and genuine.
So engrossed was I in my discovery, I didn’t hear when Celestia opened the front door. I didn’t hear her announcing that the meetings had ended early and she wanted to know if we were interested in going out for dinner. And I didn’t even hear her when she stood in the living room doorway, asking what Rarity and I were doing with all of her yearbooks. The only thing that caught my attention was the look on Celestia’s face when she realized what I held in my hands, and why I looked as though I had just seen a ghost.
Her lips moved. She said something, but I couldn’t hear it.
Or rather, I didn’t want to hear it.
The situation was delicate, to say the least: the truth had been pulled into the light, and my mind had been turned into a swirling cauldron of clashing thoughts and feelings, all vying for attention. My heart felt like a proverbial powder keg just waiting for the spark. At that moment, the one thing we all needed the most was a calm and direct conversation.
Naturally, I would be having none of that.
“You lied to me!” I shouted at her. “Everything right from the start was a lie, wasn’t it? It was never about me, it was never about doing right by the student, it was all about her!”
“Now, now, Sunset, there’s no need to shout,” Rarity interjected. No doubt she picked up on my anger that bubbled its way to the surface, so she tried to calm me down before I did something stupid. A noble, but futile, gesture. “There’s no need to jump to conclusions. Just give her a chance to—”
“Then she can tell me that I’m wrong!” I snapped back before holding up the book for Celestia to see. “Come on, just say it! Say that this is all just one big misunderstanding!”
There wasn’t as much anger in my voice as I had thought there would be. Looking back, I wasn’t demanding her to answer, but begging for it. I so desperately wanted to hear those words from her. I wanted her to walk over and wrap her arms around me, so that she could tell me how sorry she was for never telling me, and to reassure me that while I was justified in being upset, I was jumping to wild conclusions in my confusion. Because if that wasn’t the case, then it meant everything up until now was based upon that other Sunset Shimmer’s existence, and none of Celestia’s decisions had anything to do with me. It meant that she didn’t take me in, shelter me, guide me, teach me, and give me a second chance at life because she believed in me, or saw some great potential hidden away.
I wasn’t anyone special: I just happened to have the same face as someone else.
Anger began to crack and crumble within, as something even stronger threatened to break me. There was a cold, but familiar, sense of creeping dread to an extent that I hadn’t felt before. It was kind of like the night of the Fall Formal, when I first awoke at the bottom of that crater, broken and powerless: an emptiness inside, as if my entire world had turned to dust around me.
This was worse. This was everything I had built my life on dropping out from underneath me. No rock bottom—just an endless freefall as I stood there, waiting for an answer.
And yet she said nothing. She just remained motionless in the doorway. There were many things that were hard for me to envision about her: Celestia being a teenage girl, Celestia being purposefully messy, Celestia sleeping in past noon. What I saw was the one thing I never thought I would see in my life: Celestia afraid.
She was petrified in fear, as if the slightest movement or sound would set me off like a bomb. Maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth. However, the longer she stayed silent, the more I felt the last vestiges of willpower begin to wane.
“Please, Celestia,” I murmured as my hands began to tremble. “Just tell me she wasn’t important…”
Once again, all I got was a heart-wrenching silence.
The book slipped from my grasp as my trembling worsened. Only when it fell to the ground did Celestia finally move, but all she did was lunge for the book, hastily scooping it up and checking for damage.
There was my answer. Even when she was just a picture in a book, that Sunset Shimmer was more important to her than the one that stood right in front of her. The next couple of minutes were something of a blurr. Through all the twisted, conflicting thoughts and feelings, only two things came through clearly. The first was that I wanted out of there, so while Celestia was distracted by her precious yearbook, I bolted past her towards the exit. The other was the last words I said to her before storming out.
‘I hate you.’
It’s hard to race out of a house in a dramatic fashion during the winter. I grabbed my boots and coat on the way out, but I didn’t stop to put anything on until I had run about half a block from home. It had been snowing throughout the evening, so by the time I stopped, my socks were already wet and my feet were freezing. Putting my boots on didn’t help much, but it kept things from getting worse when I continued on my way.
I ran and ran and ran, without a single care as to where I was going or when I would stop. All I knew was that I just had to get away from there, away from her. It wasn’t terribly cold outside, but I had neglected to bother with a hat or gloves, so after running for who knows how long, the evening chill was now biting. I eventually had to stop, as each breath felt like icicles tearing at my throat, and chilled tears were stinging my eyes and face.
Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was all the running, maybe it was just all the emotions finally becoming too heavy to bear, or perhaps a little of each, but I finally just fell to my knees and started crying. It wasn’t some sniffling trickle of tears, but a complete and utter cascade of every pent-up emotional I had been keeping in.
“It’s not fair!” I cried out, probably louder than I ever had before. The tears just poured out after that. “I did everything you asked of me! I played by the rules! I learned about friendship! So why? I was finally happy!”
I don’t know how long I kept crying; it seemed like an eternity before it felt as though every last tear had been shed.
Endless questions and doubts continued to circle my thoughts, each one like an anchor upon my heart. Why did this have to happen? Hadn’t I paid for my sins? Hadn’t I already suffered enough? I thought I was special, that I meant something to her, but now it seemed like I was just a memory for her. It couldn’t have just been a coincidence that Celestia kept this from me. If it had just been a case of ‘oh, I knew a Sunset from way back’ then she would’ve told me by now. The other Sunset Shimmer was the keystone to everything: to all that Celestia was, to the bridge that we had built between us, and to all the happiness I thought I could call my own.
Everything was built on a lie.
“It’s… not fair…” I whimpered as the last of my energy left. “I finally had everything I wanted.”
Had it not been so cold outside, I would’ve stayed in that spot for most of the night, but as the snow began to rob my hands and legs of their feeling, I had to force myself back to my feet. Somehow, whether by fate or some subconscious directive, I discovered that I had stopped right in front of the statue outside Canterlot High. I would’ve dismissed it as coincidence, except that it was more than just a statue, it was the link back to Equestria. Was my subconscious self trying to tell me something? As I stared in silence at the snow-dusted stone before me, one thought came to mind.
Maybe it was time to go home.
If I went back to Equestria, I’d be my old self again: I’d be surrounded by ponies like me, and I’d have all of my magic back. I’d be back to square one when it came to friends, but the thought of staying felt too painful now. I didn’t want to go back into that house of lies. I didn’t want to be in a world where I couldn’t trust the person I thought I had been closest to, not that I ever really belonged here. I knew if I gave myself time to think, indecision would be the death of me, so before I could second-guess any further, I lunged into the portal.
Or so I thought.
Twilight must’ve been doing maintenance work on the magic mirror, or something, because instead of plunging through an interdimensional gateway, I slammed face first into the marble facade. The next thing I knew, I was sprawled across the snow with a dull ache across my whole face.
“So the world would even deny me this,” I thought to myself as I stared up at the night sky.
I watched as snowflakes danced before my eyes, fluttering on gentle breezes and twinkling like false stars in the moonlight. It was a picturesque holiday night, like something out of a picture book. A part of me wished I could’ve been spending it doing real Hearth Warming activities, rather than doing a starfish impression on the school grounds. I sighed and closed my eyes, and let the cold leach away any strength and feeling that was left in me.
After a moment, my thoughts turned to wondering what happened at home after I had fled. Did Rarity try to give chase? Did Luna chastise her sister for keeping this secret from all of us? Did Celestia even care that I was gone? Maybe she had already given up because she knew there was no coming back from this.
What did any of it matter anymore?
Was this how Princess Celestia felt when I turned my back on her?
I began to feel tired, sleepy even. The longer I stayed, the less I wanted to get back up. I knew this was no place to rest, but for the moment, so long as the heartache disappeared, I didn’t care where I was.
My senses began to ebb and wane, leached away by the cold and dark. It was quiet, though; peaceful, even. Out here, I was numb to the world. I didn’t even care when Celestia entered into my field of vision, looming over and shouting something. Whatever her words were, I couldn’t hear them. Maybe I didn’t want to.
I just wanted to stay numb to everything…
********************
When my senses began to return, the first thoughts that crossed my mind was wondering why it felt like there was something hot and heavy atop of my chest. The bright lights of the interior blinded me for a second when I opened my eyes, and I began pawing around with my hands to make sense of what was going on. I quickly discovered the source of the weight and heat was a towel-wrapped hot water bottle resting atop of me. I was also buried under layers of blankets, and I soon realized that I was staring up at a very familiar-looking ceiling. This led to three realizations in rapid succession.
First, I was in my bed.
That meant I was back home.
And where did my clothes go?
I still felt a bit drowsy, and not the ‘just woke up on a Monday morning’ kind of sluggishness. My head was pounding too. My hand instinctively drew to the epicenter of the ache, and winced when I felt a fresh, bandage-covered bump on my forehead. I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought.
Putting the water bottle aside, I sat up with an involuntary groan, like some zombie rising from the grave. That’s when I noticed that Luna was in the room as well, sitting quietly in an easy chair that had been strategically placed in front of the bedroom door. I wasn’t sure if that was to keep me from leaving or Celestia from barging in. Either way, I felt grateful that she was willing to serve as a barrier between us.
“Good, you’re finally awake,” Luna said with a noted hint of relief.
“What happened? I remember… being outside the school, and I was… laying in the snow.”
“And there’s where Celestia found you, half-frozen and barely conscious.” A frown and a stern gaze preceded her next words. “Running out into the night in the middle of winter? I understand you’re upset, but what you were thinking?”
A part of me had trouble believing the severity of what happened, but it explained why I was half-naked and wrapped up like a burrito. In my angst and confusion, I didn’t even stop to think about the kind of temperature I had exposed myself to. If they hadn’t found me, I seriously could’ve seriously hurt myself, or maybe even died.
With that in mind, all I could mutter back was a shameful, “I’m sorry.”
She let out a lengthy sigh, and as if having exhaled all of her frustration, donned a reassuring smile. “The important thing is that you’re okay.”
After a brief but awkward pause, I asked the inevitable, “So what happens now?”
“That depends on you,” she answered as she rose from her seat. “Naturally, you must decide what’s best for you and your life. All I can say is, running away rarely solves one’s problems.” After pushing the easy-chair out of the way, Luna opened the door to leave. “My sister’s up in her room. You can talk to her when you’re ready. I’ll text your friend to let her know that you’re okay.”
“Thanks.”
If only somebody had slapped some sense into me before I ran out of the house and nearly gave myself a concussion. She was right, of course; whatever decision I made in the end, I could only do so after speaking with Celestia. I needed to know the truth, once and for all.
Just as she was about to leave, Luna stopped in the doorway and glanced back to me. “You might want to consider that perhaps you’re not the only person who saw you living here as a second chance.”
Though still groggy, I nonetheless got out of bed and changed into dry clothes. My thoughts were still consumed by Celestia and the other Sunset Shimmer, but with Luna’s words still ringing in my ears, I was able to take a breath and look at things with an objective eye. Celestia lied to me, that much was undeniable, so what mattered now was why. Just thinking about the possible reasons made my chest feel like it was in a vice, but no matter how scared I was, I knew I had to face this.
I couldn’t let things end like this.
No sooner was I dressed did I find myself standing outside of Celestia’s bedroom, though it took several moments for me to work up the nerve to knock on the door. There wasn’t an answer, but I could see light through a gap in the doorway, so I decided to head in anyways. She sat at the head of the bed, cross-legged and hunched over the same yearbook as before, no doubt opened to the same picture that had started this whole ordeal. I had never seen her look so… defeated.
I wanted to be upset with her. She had been deceiving me from the very start, for as long as I’ve known her. She took me into her home and said that she would guide me, help take care of me… but was I even the one she was thinking of when she said those things? Yet the longer I stared at her, the more sympathy I felt. This was not the machination of some demented manipulator like I had once been; this was a woman shackled by the chains of her past. How many times have I run away from a painful truth?
I remained silent as I sat on the bed in front of her, crossing my legs and assuming the same posture as her. We made eye contact for a brief moment, but it was enough for me to see the fear and turmoil inside her.
“‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t feel quite adequate, does it?” Celestia murmured as her eyes fell back to the yearbook.
“I don’t want an apology,” I replied, “I just want the truth.” I looked down at the picture that she had been staring at so wistfully, her fingers tracing against the young student’s face. “Winner of the Math Olympics—she must’ve been pretty brilliant, huh?”
A melancholic smile flashed across her face. “Shone brighter than the sun,” she answered. “But it was always hidden away behind the clouds. I just wanted the world to be able to see what I could.”
I reached over and gently placed a hand overtop of hers. “I’d like to be able to see.”
“Well, it all started about twelve years ago…”
********************
Back then, I was still just a fresh, young teacher who still had a lot to learn about life and the real world. West Fillydelphia High was my first real teaching position, and I was lucky to have even been able to get the job in the first place; mostly because Sombra had already been working there too.
I was having lunch in my classroom with Mrs. Inkwell, who was both friend and mentor to me at the school. She had been teaching at West Fillydelphia for longer than anybody else, and had bailed me out of trouble on more occasions than I’d care to recall.
“So how are things at home?” Inkwell asked no sooner had she sat in the chair opposite of me.
I knew what she was hinting at, as it had been the workplace gossip for the past couple of days, so I already had my remarks prepared. “Sombra’s only been made the acting Vice Principal. Everybody's making it sound like he’s now King of the school.”
“With the way Mr. Graycoat is, he may as well be,” Inkwell said with a knowing laugh.
“I realize he’s not known for his assertiveness, but that doesn’t mean Sombra will take advantage of him.” I knew my friend didn’t mean to imply my husband would act unprofessionally; if anything, she and many others sounded delighted that he was taking the post.
“Still, very exciting if you ask me. Plus the extra money will come in handy for when you start that family.”
The fine mist of coffee I wound up spraying across the desk amused her to no end.
“I-I don’t think now is a good time to be worrying about that,” I stammered back. “It’d be better to let Sombra get settled into his new position before we plan for any major changes.”
That was a half-truth, and not even a very good attempt at concealing that either. Truthfully, we had been trying, without success, to start a family for at least the past couple of years, if not since we got married. At the same time, though, Sombra’s had his hands full ever since he found out he was going to be made Vice Principal after the sudden vacancy. It made for a lot of stress and long evenings at work.
“Besides, this is only a temporary thing. I’m sure Sombra will be back in his old position before long.”
Inkwell glanced to the door for a second, as if to make sure there was nobody eavesdropping on us. She beckoned me closer and whispered, “Between you and me, the old vice principal didn’t leave voluntarily. Graycoat actually suspended him, but he didn’t want to draw any attention to it.”
I raised a curious eyebrow, as this was the first I had heard of such a thing. “To what?”
“He was caught having an affair with a student.”
“Noooo,” I gasped without even thinking. “A student? Really? And the principal is keeping everything quiet?”
“Well, the student was above the age of consent, so there’s nothing illegal about, but it’s still unethical, and it’d be a huge scandal for the school. With the School Board looking to shut down underperforming schools to consolidate their budget, everybody’s trying to avoid anything that might put them on the chopping block.”
I wasn’t surprised just at the former vice principal’s alleged indiscretions, but also how my friend could be so casual about it. In retrospect, after thirty years of teaching, Inkwell had likely seen everything under the sun and knew getting worked up about the issue wouldn’t solve anything. There might’ve been some pragmatism behind her behaviour as well, since she had no desire for the school to get shut down either.
“I can’t believe somebody would take advantage of a student like that,” I murmured under my breath, still incensed at the news.
“I’m surprised you didn’t already know.”
A disgruntled snort preceded my next remarks. “I imagine they told Sombra, but he decided against sharing those details with me.” He probably knew, rightly, that I would get upset at such news. I had half a mind to storm into the principal’s office to give him my two cents, which, again, was the whole reason why my husband kept it a secret in the first place.
And speaking of my better half, a knocking at the classroom door drew our attention to his arrival. I still wasn’t used to seeing him dressed so formally, but he had insisted that the black suit was needed to reflect his new position.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Inkwell, do you think I could have a word with my wife for a moment?” he asked as he strode into the classroom.
She gave a polite smile and nodded before excusing herself.
“‘My wife’?” I repeated with an amused smirk. “I thought we said we’d keep things professional while we’re at work.”
“What’s the point of a promotion if you don’t get to enjoy a perk or two?” he replied as he sat on the edge of my desk. The amusement in his expression vanished in a heartbeat, however, as professionalism took over. “Listen, Mr. Graycoat needs me to look over some more reports today, so it’s probably going to be another late night for me. Also, I might need to come in on Saturday for some other things.”
“But our plans—”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Sombra hastily apologized. “Things are really hectic around the school right now, and I’m trying to put out all these fires while learning the ropes at the same time.” He took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll just be a few more weeks, I promise. Things will be back to normal soon.”
Things wouldn’t, of course, but neither of us had any way of knowing that at the time. For the moment, it was just a little road bump in an otherwise happy marriage.
“Anyways, the real reason I’m here is there’s a matter with a student I was hoping you could look into,” my husband continued as he fished a folded paper from his pocket. “There’s a student in your homeroom class whose grades have been on a bit of a downward trend.”
“Who’s the student?”
“Her name is Sunset Shimmer. All the contact information for her parents is on this,” he answered as he handed me the slip of paper. “Take a look over her records, speak with her other teachers, and arrange for a parent-teacher interview.”
I recognized the name, but that only led to more confusion. “I don’t have her in any of my regular classes,” I stated with some concern. “Are you sure you want me to handle this?”
“I have every faith in you, dear.”
“Now you’re just trying to butter me up.”
********************
When I first met Sunset Shimmer, she didn’t stand out to me at all. I was her homeroom teacher, so while I saw her every day, I never taught her directly. The extent of our interactions were limited almost entirely to taking attendance. She was one face out of twenty-eight I saw each morning, and she would always sit in the back corner of the classroom and wait in perfect silence until the bell rang for first period. Given how chaotic a classroom full of teenagers could be even for an experienced teacher, I took this aspect of hers for granted.
I always figured she was a bright, mature student who didn’t need my guidance or diligence. A simple, trouble-free student—it was every teacher’s dream.
It wasn’t until the day of the parent-teacher interview that I realized that I still had a lot to learn about people and the world. My first tip-off should’ve been when none of my phone calls were returned and I had to arrange the interview via email, all of which had time stamps in the middle of the night. In my youth and enthusiasm, I overlooked the red-flags in the hopes of making a difference in a student’s education.
The alloted hour of the interview came about one Thursday afternoon, only a few days after I had been first given the task. I was waiting in my classroom, arranging all of the documents I had assembled in order to make my case, when the knock at my door finally came. However, I was in for a surprise when the door opened and only Sunset Shimmer entered.
“I’m here for the interview, Mrs. Celestia,” Sunset announced. There was a sense of reluctant compliance lacing her words, emphasized by the bored look in her face. Most students looked at parent-teacher interviews with anxiety or trepidation, or at the very least a sense of annoyance, but she looked almost… indifferent.
“Where are your parents?” I asked, noting the obvious absence of any other adults in the room.
Her answer came in the form of piece of paper that she handed me, followed by a quick explanation, “I’ve my father’s signed consent to conduct this interview in his absence.”
Unorthodox didn’t even begin to describe the situation, but the letter said exactly as she had described. It was possible that this had been a bluff or a forgery, but I saw no immediate reason to cancel things. If I really felt her parents were being kept in the dark, then I could follow up with them afterwards. In fact, this gave me perhaps just as good an opportunity since I could speak with her one-on-one.
“Very well then, have a seat,” I said as I gestured to the empty chair opposite of me. “Tell me, Ms. Shimmer, do you enjoy coming to school here?”
“Does any teenager enjoy going to school?” she shot back with a half-hearted shrug.
“True, but I meant this school in particular. If you were free to choose which school you went to, would you be happy with West Fillydelphia?”
Sunset looked confused at first, clearly not expecting this exact line of questioning. “I dunno… I guess,” she managed to utter out, perhaps trying to discern my true intent before committing to a proper answer. “Aren’t we supposed to be talking about grades and stuff?”
“I think you know how that story goes: ‘your grades have been slipping recently, and we’d like you to make a renewed effort to change that before you jeopardize your academic future.’ And then you’ll make some vague, non-committal response that you’ll try harder. If I pressed, I could probably even have you agree to some kind of action plan, but none of that is actually going to matter once you leave this room, will it?”
She didn’t answer at first, but the way she shuffled in her seat and averted her gaze meant that I wasn’t far from the truth. Eventually, she muttered out a few words, “Why am I even here then?”
“I’ve spoken with your other teachers,” I began, opening a file folder to a sheet where I had made my notes. “They all painted the same picture: ‘Incredibly gifted, but apathetic. Spends her time in class at the back alone. Never participates in discussions unless called upon. Wasted potential.’ It seems to me like you just don’t care at all.”
“So what if I don’t? It’s just school.”
“That’s not a very good attitude to have,” I answered with a reassuring smile. “This is high school; this is a time for you to be discovering your passions and figuring out the kind of person you really are. It’s a time for making friends, not hiding in the back corner waiting for the day to end.”
For a brief moment, Sunset let go of her aloof façade, frowning with a sort of look of disgust. Despite initial misgivings, for once at least I got an honest emotional response from her.
“Do you even have any friends at school?” I asked, plain and simple.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she snapped back. “You’re my teacher, okay? Your job is to worry about my grades.”
“My job is to prepare you for the next stage of your life,” I shot back. In the face of her growing agitation, I remained patient. “School is more than just learning how to write tests and essays. It’s about meeting people, trying new things, discovering new perspectives, and learning how to learn. I don’t want you looking back on this ten years from now wishing you had done more when you had the time.”
Now I thought I had been pretty convincing, but Sunset thought otherwise. Her brooding expression didn’t change much, but she also didn’t immediately answer. Eventually, she muttered something that sound like, ‘what’s the use?’ but when asked, she denied saying anything of the sort.
“I think I’ve heard enough,” she eventually announced as she rose to her feet. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes, your grades have been slipping recently, and we’d like you to make a renewed effort to change that before you jeopardize your academic future.”
********************
Though I got a vague, non-committal pledge to do better, I wasn’t convinced that this issue with Sunset Shimmer was over just yet. If anything, it was only the beginning. In the following weeks, I made an effort to keep an eye on her during homeroom. As I had mentioned before, she was quiet so I had a tendency to overlook her in the past, especially when the twenty-seven other students in homeroom often vyed for my attention.
Day after day, I watched as she arrived at homeroom, alone, kept to the back corner of the class, and left with barely more than a few words spoken. None of the other students ever tried to approach her, although it was halfway through the semester, so her reputation as a ‘loner’ had probably already been cemented amongst her peers.
I wished there was something I could do for her. She was far too young to already be bored with her day to day life, but if nothing at school could spur her interest, then what could I as a teacher do? When I inquired with my colleagues, I discovered I wasn’t the first teacher of hers to try and reach out to her, but all I could learn from their failures was that she didn’t seem to care for anyone or anything, at least not when approached directly.
However, I wasn’t convinced of this. I may have only been teaching for a few years, but I refused to believe that any student could go through seventeen years of life without finding something they loved. It was unorthodox, but I decided one day to tail Sunset Shimmer during lunch hour and after class, just to see what she did when she thought nobody was paying attention.
At lunch, instead of heading to the cafeteria, she ate out in the courtyard just behind the school, which surprised me at first as it was a pretty popular hang-out spot for many of our students. The small patch of grass and trees in the middle of Fillydelphia, intermixed with benches and concrete paths, was often frequented by skateboarders, musicians, athletes, and those who just preferred being outdoors. Given her demeanour in class, I had expected her to retreat to somewhere quiet and tranquil, like the library, but this was a good thing. This meant there was something that drew her here. Alas, by the end of the break, I had yet to figure out an answer: all she did was eat, silent and alone.
The next few days were no more successful, as Sunset Shimmer adhered to her strict and solitary schedule. I would’ve been impressed by her dedication did she not appear so indifferent to its significance. I was just about to give up when one Friday after school, I finally caught a lucky break. On my way back to my classroom, I came across a most curious sight of Sunset Shimmer huddled just outside a classroom door, peering in through the window of the closed door. And like the last piece of the puzzle falling into place, the answer to the question I had been looking for became clear.
Why else would a girl gaze longingly into the music room?
Sunset was so engrossed that she didn’t hear me approach, not until I was standing right behind her. “Looking for something, Ms. Shimmer?”
She let out a cross between a squeak and a yelp as she spun around and adhered her back to the door, as if trying to blend herself in with her backdrop. “M-Mrs. Celestia!” she stammered. “I-I-I w-was just… um, looking for… someone…”
It didn’t even sound like she could convince herself of that, let alone me.
“I-I’ll just be on my way.”
Before she could run away, I blocked her path and gestured to the door. “Would you like to go inside?”
She froze for a moment, perhaps trying to determine if I was serious or not. “Would… that be okay?” she murmured.
“Of course, Mr. Treble is a good friend of mine,” I reassured her. Though I wasn’t part of the music department in an official capacity, I did help him out with the various clubs and bands in the school. He even trusted me with a spare key to his classroom. “He won’t mind if we go inside for just a little bit.”
I eased Sunset aside and unlocked the door. I said nothing as I went inside, and, sure enough, she trailed behind me, like a lost kitten. The music room was a large, spacious chamber with an assortment of electric keyboards lining the walls, and several lots of communal instruments for use during class. I watched her gaze as she scanned across the room, and it felt almost serendipitous when it settled on one of the guitars.
“I owe you an apology, Sunset,” I said before walking over to where several guitars were lined up against the wall.
“That’s right, you do. Sneaking up on people like that is just plain rude.”
“Not that,” I replied with a trifling laugh. “Back during our interview, there was something that I neglected to ask, and in failing to do so, I’ve done you a disservice.”
Sunset tilted her head ever so slightly to one side. “Ask me… what?”
“What do you want out of high school?”
I didn’t expect an immediate answer; I just wanted to plant those words in her mind. From her averting, pensive gaze, I got the impression that was probably the first time anybody’s ever posed that question to her.
“I want to graduate,” she answered.
“I would hope so,” I shot back. As she tried to fumble her way to a ‘proper’ answer, I picked up one of the guitar cases and set it down on Mr. Treble’s desk.
“I… I want an education.” There was a hint of panic in her sinking eyes, like a child standing in front of a teacher who was still waiting for an answer.
“That sounds more like an answer from a brochure than a teenager.”
“I… I want… I want—”
The strumming of a chord stopped the girl dead in her tracks, and when she lifted her eyes again, she saw me sitting on the edge of Mr. Treble’s desk with the guitar resting upon my lap. She watched in absolute silence as I played through a light warm-up, the music gently filling the otherwise silent room. It was far from the first time I had played in front of a student of mine, but there was something about that moment that made it particularly special to me.
Only once I stopped did Sunset realize she had been letting her guard down, and she quickly averted her gaze once more to put on that forced air of indifference. By that point, I don’t think she was even able to convince herself of that. I simply waited for temptation to draw her eyes back to me; it wasn’t hard for me to tell what the answer was, even if she couldn’t speak it.
Sometimes saying nothing could provide just as many answers.
“Do you know how to play the guitar?” I asked.
She remained silent, but subtly shook her head. I held out the guitar and gestured for her to come and take it. It took a bit of coaxing, perhaps because she wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t some elaborate ruse, before she shuffled over and took a seat on the desk next to me.
“Good, now just rest it on your legs here, and put your right arm like this… and your left hand up here.”
I began teaching her the basic hand positions and how to run through some simple exercises. She took to it like a duck to water. The way her eyes lit up the first time she struck a note was the sort of moment that every teacher dreamed up. It was like she had been asleep all this time, and was just finally waking up and realizing just how beautiful the world could be. Time flew by faster than either of us could’ve anticipated, and the next thing I knew, it was already starting to get dark outside.
“Oh dear, it’s getting awfully late. We should probably call it a day,” I announced before rising to my feet.
“Do we have to?” Sunset blurted out. She looked to me with pleading eyes, her arms wrapped around the guitar in a protective embrace. “Can’t we just… stay a little bit longer?”
I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about sending Sunset home, but somebody had to be the responsible adult. “You should head home. Your parents are probably wondering where you are.”
“That’d be a first,” she muttered back.
Though disheartening, the response didn’t surprise me. I wanted to help her, but as a teacher there was only so much I could offer. Perhaps, I thought, it would be enough for her.
“What do you want out of high school, Sunset Shimmer?”
I didn’t see any hesitation this time when her gaze met with mine. “I want to learn how to play!” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “Please, Mrs. Celestia… teach me.”
Passion and enthusiasm like that was such a rare sight in students; it made it all the more important to cherish and nurture it when it came along. I couldn’t help but smile back to her. “Then how about we meet again after school on Monday, and we can continue the lessons?”
And that’s when she let it out: a smile, brighter than anything I’d seen from her before. It was like the parting clouds after the rainstorm, that once-in-a-blue-moon expression that most teachers could only dream about.
“I’d like that.”
It was such a simple, innocent offering. I never imagined in even my worst nightmares how things would eventually turn out.