//------------------------------// // Chapter XIV // Story: The Forgotten: Friends // by Jatheus //------------------------------// Mestra Amymone felt herself bristle, her mane standing on end at the base of her skull. “Never like that,” came a full voice, a little deep for a mare. “Try again.” “Yes, Miss, Acumen,” she spoke slowly to ensure proper enunciation. Stormy sat across the classroom, working on her homework from the previous day. The pair had been coming early since Miss Zenithal Acumen’s invitation to help Mestra improve her language skill and Stormy with her own schooling. The room smelled fresh with the oily scent of the well-conditioned wood floor. Her eyes wandered for a moment. She shivered from a draft, but was unable to detect from where it had come. All the doors and windows were shut. The heat from the stove in the corner did seemingly little to help, though Mestra had been in the schoolhouse on days when it was unlit, and the winter cold would have been far more piercing were that the case. “While walking the plain, mainly does, the rain, fall, on the mane.” “Adequate,” Zenithal Acumen looked down her horn-rimmed glasses at her pupil. “When would one use the subjunctive?” “If Mestra was to guess-“ “Incorrect!” the teacher reprimanded. “One must refer to herself by the personal pronoun, ‘I’. Try again.” “If I was to guess-“ “Incorrect! That is precisely where you should use the subjunctive. You should say, ‘If I were to guess.’” Mestra took a breath, swallowing the frustration that grew within, “If I, were to guess, the sub, subjunctive is for, to be used while stating something as possible, but not likely.” “Good enough. More to the point, it typically expresses what is imagined or wished.” Mestra was certain she saw Stormy smile for a moment, but Miss Acumen was quick to continue the lesson. The months of morning studies had made the forgotten mare’s head hurt daily with the new facts and figures, mostly language and reading skills, with which she was bombarded. It seemed an eternity before the other students finally arrived to give her some relief. Lessons began, and Mestra was glad to be sitting with Stormy near the front of the room and no longer drawing the direct attention of Miss Acumen. They couldn’t talk to each other during class, which Mestra had discovered by drawing ire from the teacher one morning. When they eventually concluded the lesson, the students broke into groups to work on some math problems. Stormy and Mestra sat together with Burble. The advanced mathematics was far beyond the forgotten mare’s abilities, but she did get to practice on her own level. This also gave her an opportunity for less formal practice on her language skills. A snapping sound was followed by a curse from Stormy. “Nightmare Moon!” Mestra looked up to see her friend’s pencil lead had broken. “Here,” Mestra volunteered, “you can use mine, and I will sharpen yours.” The frustration evaporated from Stormy’s expression and was replaced by a smile. “You just made a compound sentence.” “I did?” the forgotten mare asked. “You did!” Burble looked up, “Didn’t you do it on purpose?” Mestra felt her face scrunch in thought, “Uh. It just happened.” Stormy giggled, “Okay then. Sharpen away!” The pair traded pencils, and Mestra walked to the sharpener. Sitting nearby, not grouped with anyone, was Verdant Thicket. The forgotten mare had only passing interactions with him since the Fall Festival, but he seemed pleasant enough considering the things Stormy had since said about him. Those two were no longer romantically involved as a result of that incident, despite the stallion’s continued efforts to win her back. For her own part, Mestra had concluded that Verdant Thicket hadn’t meant her any harm but simply didn’t understood how little she’d known at the time. She began sharpening the pencil, one of her favorite classroom activities. The sound of the grinding within the box as she cranked it combined with the scent of freshly ground wood was almost magical. Her butterflies lifted from her back and fluttered about the device. The mare shivered from the chill in the air. “Cold?” Verdant Thicket asked. “Ah,” she answered. “Yeah, me too. I’ll bet it’s a little warmer where you sit, since you’re closer to the stove.” “Uh, Mestra... um, I get cold over there.” “She could keep it warmer if she wanted to,” he replied nonchalantly, “then we could all be comfortable.” The mare tightened her scarf, “The sweater and scarf keep Mes... keep I warm.” “Me, keep me warm.” “Ah, keep me warm.” He shrugged, “Well, you wouldn’t need them in here if she’d use these.” From a pocket in his jacket, the stallion produced some chestnuts. Mestra had eaten some previously and so recognized them. “To keep warm?” “Yeah, they burn hot, so I’d bet this little bunch would make it nice and toasty in here.” “Why not use them?” “I didn’t think anyone else was cold, and I didn’t want to heat up the whole room if it was just me. Besides, I need to finish my work,” the stallion returned his attention to the mathematics assignment on his desk. “I can do it,” the mare volunteered. “Don’t you have work to do?” She nodded, “I have time. It is a small matter.” “Nobody says it like that. Either, ‘I don’t mind,’ or, ‘it’s no big deal.’” “Ah! I don’t mind.” Almost reluctantly, he held out the chestnuts. Mestra scooped them up and walked gleefully to the other end of the classroom. The metal stove was simple enough. It was made from cast iron and had a latch that kept the grilled door shut should the wood inside shift or fall. The mare rotated the latch and opened the door, tossed in the chestnuts and closed it again, securing the lock as she did. Returning to her seat, Mestra continued working on her math. “What took you so long?” Stormy asked. “I was talking to Verde.” The black mare looked up, nostrils flaring in agitation. There was a question on her face, but she didn’t get to ask it. A loud pop startled everypony and was followed by a shriek from those closest to the stove. Mestra’s butterflies shot straight up into the air. Pop! Bang! Pop, pop! Bang! The explosions in the wood heater sent students scrambling away as Miss Zenithial Acumen shouted for them to move to safety in an orderly fashion. As suddenly as it began, the cacophony stopped. Mestra’s heart pounded in her chest as she peeked over her desk, underneath which she had hidden. The commotion from the students was quickly silenced by the teacher. “Well?” she asked expectantly. “Who is responsible for this disruption?” Silence met her initially, but then a mare at the front raised her hoof. The teacher turned to her. “I saw Mestra go up to the stove just before it happened.” As a predator’s full focus comes to bear on its prey, so did Miss Zenithal Acumen trap the forgotten mare in her gaze, “Mestra Amymone!” The forgotten mare felt her heart leap up into her throat as her name was called out by the teacher. She slowly stood, opening her mouth to explain. “Not one word!” the teacher cut her off. “Outside, now!” Mestra’s hooves felt as though they were shod with lead. Stormy’s eyes were wide with horror as her friend trudged across the room and went down the stairs and out into the frigid air. Day old snow had piled up and become a bit hard from trampling. Her butterflies managed to follow and flitted gleefully nearby, seemingly unaware of the trouble in which Mestra had found herself. At a near panic, she wanted nothing more than to run as fast as her legs would carry her back to Misty’s house. Before she was able to muster up enough courage to flee, the door shut behind her, and Zenithal Acumen was giving a harsh glare from behind her glasses. Mestra was petrified. Even her butterflies seemed to be moving in slow-motion as they glided through the air. The elder mare breathed a deep sigh, “I have seen many odd things in my day, but this... from you?” As much as she wanted to speak, a lump had formed in Mestra’s throat, and she couldn’t find her own voice. The teacher’s expression was hard as iron. “Explain yourself,” she said evenly. Mestra’s breaths were shaky, coming with great heaving effort, and she tried to summon enough air to break the lump in her throat. Her first attempt came out something like a squeak. She tried again. “Mestra did... I did not know. He told me the chestnuts would be warm in the fire. The room... was going to be warm.” Her steely visage remained, but one eyebrow raised, “And just who told you to put the chestnuts in the fire?” Mestra looked down at her hooves, “Verde.” “You will remain here,” the elder mare said. The forgotten mare was able to get her breath back, and her butterflies seemed to be moving as normal again. They landed on her back, burrowing into her scarf. It seemed only moments before Zenithal Acumen returned with Verdant Thicket, a look of confusion on his face. “Well?” she demanded. “Well what?” he asked. “She tells me that you gave her chestnuts and said that they would make the room warmer if she threw them into the fire.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any chestnuts.” Mestra’s eyes went wide as she turned to look at Verdant Thicket. His returned gaze was cold and distant. “You deny any knowledge of the disruption in class?” “Of course,” he answered. “She must have been either confused or lying. She’s just using her bad language skills to make you think she doesn’t know what she’s doing.” Mestra felt a rage burn within. Strength surged into her legs, and a drive to slam into Verde and knock the passively smug grin from his face nearly overcame her. The fear of Zenithal Acumen, it turned out, was sufficient to keep Mestra’s hooves firmly planted. “Return to your seat.” Verdant Thicket went back inside, leaving the pair alone again. Mestra looked back to the teacher, tears welling up in her eyes at the betrayal. “Miss... I did not know... I would not do that...” The harsh gaze on Zenithal Acumen’s face slowly evaporated, “Oh, I know it, dear, but I had to be certain. I can see the truth written on your face.” The forgotten mare felt lost. It was as if the teacher, whom she’d been getting to know for months was suddenly somepony else entirely. “Mestra... not in trouble?” A chuckle escaped the teacher, “Not for the disturbance, but that is no excuse to let your grammar slip.” Mestra felt herself stand up straighter at the gentle scolding, “Yes, ma’am!” “I’ve been teaching Verdant Thicket and his brothers since the eldest first attended school. They have quite a penchant for mischief. If he goes the way of the older two, he should begin to settle down soon. For now, I’ll have to keep after him.” Zenithal Acumen took a long breath, staring into Mestra’s eyes, “You’d be best served to not be too close to troublemakers. Your friend, Stormy, is a good young mare, being occasionally a little rough around the edges notwithstanding. She has taken her father’s death harder than she’d ever admit. That’s when she started associating with Verdant Thicket. I don’t think you realize just how good for her your arrival has been.” “I... good for... Stormy? “Indeed, yes. Having someone to take care of, that needed her, it seems to have done her a world of good. Even if all you had done was show her how pernicious that young stallion can be, you’d have been a breath of fresh air.” Mestra shivered at the cold, entranced by the way Miss Acumen was speaking. She’d never seen such a soft and caring side of her before. “What do I does... I do now?” Mestra asked. “We will return to class. Tell nopony about our conversation until the end of the day. I’ll deal with Verdant Thicket when the time comes.” Mestra returned to the warmth of the classroom. The students had settled back into their group work, but Stormy and Burble looked up immediately as the forgotten mare entered the room. Her butterflies took flight and swarmed Stormy’s face, causing her to shoo them away. “What happened? Are you in trouble?” Stormy asked as Mestra took her seat. “It is okay. Mestra... I be... I am not in trouble.” The three went back to their studies, but the forgotten mare found herself somewhat distracted. She couldn’t help but watch Zenithal Acumen with abject curiosity. She had turned out to be far different than Mestra had expected. She cared far more about her students than just teaching lessons and maintaining order in her classroom. The discovery was a pleasant surprise to be sure.