Sunset tried -- she tried so so hard -- to maintain some composure, but what she was hearing just decimated, and scattered, any senses of strength or power she possessed prior and she couldn't help shaking.
"Y-y-you can't do that!" Gilda's lips quirked and she brought a palm to her cheek at Sunset's declaration. "That's ... T-that's extortion!" With this, Sunset started pacing uncontrollably throughout the small room. Actually, it was smaller than she remembered and ... Is it getting smaller? How can anyone breathe in here? "That's just low. That's too low. Even for you! W-what, did you j-just wake up one day and say, 'who needs morality'?"
Curling her lips into a frown, Gilda stood as well and exclaimed, "You have no right to lecture me on morality! And, oh yes, when the idea first came to me, I thought, 'that's terrible,' but then I thought about it a little more and realized, 'what better irony could there be?'"
Grating, as usual, was Gilda's egregious tone. Sweat beaded on Sunset's forehead and her lip quivered once.
This frailty was not lost on the gold-eyed girl, so she continued with a lower and lower tone, "Here's how this is going to work, Sunny: you're going to walk out of this room and go about your day like nothing's different." She stepped closer to Sunset -- encouraging and relishing in greater disarray. "You're going to hand me your phone -- so I know you're not trying anything stupid -- and, when the day ends, you're going to look me and Trixie right in the eyes to say the following: 'I comply, I'll-"
Interrupting her demands, Sunset's phone buzzed. Silence took over.
"Well, aren't you going to check that?" Gilda asked after a time. "Who is it?" Sunset's orange-cased phone was out in seconds, but Gilda didn't like that it was facing away. "Sunny," she started while holding up her own phone. "Don't just explain; show me."
I h-have no ch-choice here! Sunset stammered in her own head, c-can't ... breathe! "It's Shimmer -- the other Sunset," she managed. I just wanna leave! "She wants to know what's happening with the others."
"Oh? Well you don't wanna worry her, do you? Go on, tell her that your friends are ill, but they'll be fine. It's not a lie, either, since you're a smart girl, aren't you? Go ahead. Tell her. Then hand it over." Sunset didn't need to make eye contact to feel Gilda staring -- threatening with all her muscles that she wouldn't tolerate disobedience. "Don't forget to let her know you've gotta turn off your phone today ... for some reason. I'm sure you'll think of something."
...
"See, Sunny, you're such a quick liar." Sunset wanted to scream. "Aw, she even wants you to stay well! Aren't you lucky to have such caring friends? Would be a real shame if something happened to them." Gilda held out her hand and curled her fingers a few times. "Now give it. I don't care if you actually turn it off or not."
After Sunset held a button on the phone's edge, and swiped the screen's top to deactivate it, she let Gilda snatch it. "Good girl," the criminal almost purred out and elicited a flinch by patting Sunset's head twice. "Now run along, you have 'til the end of today; I'm sure you'll come to the right decision." Sunset didn't need to be told twice; she made for the door like she was about to start a marathon, but Gilda called again -- stopping her.
"And Sunset?" The halted girl gulped. "We'll be watching."
Barging out the room, Sunset found Gilda's last statement not only ringing in her ears but that it was true; two students stood either side of the room's entrance -- eyes on Sunset before the door opened -- and a third (the same girl Sunset remembered pointing her out at the show) leaned against the wall directly across. Students littering and commuting the halls stared too. Each pair of eyes suffocated her in place of the cramped club room, but the worst was Gilda.
Gold irises framed wide saucers looming -- nay, judging -- from the heavens and Sunset quailed under their adjudication ... Despite moving away from them quickly as she could walk, she still felt their technology messing with her mind.
Escape! I need to escape! She failed to remain calm and wanted to walk right back out the front door, but such an act would be futile. If I run, who knows what Gilda might do ...
Stares, glowers, glared daggers did not relent their assault as she walked down the hall toward Celestia's office with her torso ahead of every placed foot; if someone wanted to trip her, she was offering the perfect opportunity. However, pallid Sunset found herself somehow managing, in spite of hyperventilation, padding to the office door and crashing her weight through it.
"Celestia-" she started but faltered. What are you thinking? What are you about to say? The sound of a clearing throat yanked her instinctive attention from Celestia's desk to the room's corner. There, twirling a pencil in one hand, holding a blue-cased phone in the other, leaned back like everything was normal, was Trixie -- frowning.
"What is it, Sunset?" hailed the principal's tone with a note of surprise.
Averting her eyes from the Lulamoon, Sunset faced Celestia and hushed her first thought, Something horrible is going on, which was something she'd rehearsed in her head not twenty minutes ago, and instead wrenched out, "I was ... just wondering ... Did my, uh, friends -- Rainbow, Rarity, and Fluttershy -- call in sick today? They never did answer me so I hoped you would."
Ba-thoom! The sound of something smacking against the school's floor captured the principal's attention for a moment. She shot Trixie a deep, flouncing frown.
"Sorry, sorry," the magician apologized, " ... just ... dropped my phone; my bad, it really is. I'm quite sorry."
Come on, I get it! Sunset refused to glance back to Trixie. Instead, she rapidly bounced one heel up and down in an impatient manner -- urging her question's answer. "Ahem," Celestia locked eyes with Sunset once more and replied, "Yes, they did not too long ago. Actually, they each sent an email saying they could hardly breathe let alone speak. I hope it's just this super cold weather being sudden and that they don't have some kind of flu. Are you going to check on them anytime soon?"
"Yeah I am. Tomorrow." Sunset let out fast to move on.
Celestia, alas, thus hindered that plan by adding extra questions; she asked, "Would you please give them my best when you do?" Not really calm, but afraid to show it, Sunset just hummed and turned to the door, yet the principal continued, "And Sunset? You look pretty pale yourself. Please let someone know if you feel ill?"
After a cough from Trixie, Sunset offered, "It must be the cold, cause I feel fine, but thank you. I will."
"One more thing Sunset." the principal foiled her speedy escape again.
"Mm?" came a 'please-let-me-go' grunt.
"It looks like I was right that day. You know, about a civil discussion between us?" You have to be kidding.
With a nervous, "Haha," Sunset hastened out, "You got me." Are you talking to Celestia or Trixie?
That said, Sunset left as quickly as she came in and only looked whence she came -- left, to one leaving the office -- for a moment before seeing Gilda leisurely walking ... as if she never stopped watching.
Hence she turned right and repeated thinking, I need to get out of here! Somewhere! Anywhere! I just need to get out of this for a while! Sanctuary was hidden from her though, for, no matter how much she looked, all that surrounded her were walls of irises and pupils; some looked down on her, others glared from beneath, a few gave her level, fuming lours ... all sank teeth into her being and bit away at her -- heart and soul.
Any one of them could've been working with Gilda and Trixie.
Clutching her right bicep with her opposing hand, she brought her right hand up to her temple and ... lowered her head -- trying to hide her face -- like she could disappear with that simple act. Please, she begged inside, stop looking at me! Just stop! Please ...
Sunset was on the verge of breaking down, and she knew it; she was about to start publicly crying, but she grit her teeth and bore with it regardless. Gilda's surveillance still cut through it all -- hammering nails into her back.
Just then, through the corner of her left, trembling eye, something gave her a second's reprieve; it was not who was doing it which relieved her -- absolutely not! -- rather than what they did. Alone, in the Scowling Seas, a pair of steely, stoic, staring purple eyes broke from the contact. A single fracture in the iris wall's defenses beckoned Sunset as the only hint of possible escape.
Please be alone! she plead while scrambling to the familiar, dark alcove where the eyes disappeared. Upon barreling down it and through a door, she saw nobody on the music room's lower level.
Quick! She spun behind her, slammed the entrance closed, and frantically looked toward the lock -- wondering which way to turn it. Does it matter? Before her trembling fingers came into contact with metal again, Octavia, walking upstairs in a relaxed, rhythmic cadence, called out, "Clockwise," as though she knew what Sunset needed ... again. Click came a gentle sound and Sunset stomped over to the well-known staircase. There, her legs became jelly and her knees went weak as she looked up the stairs.
However, she didn't ascend; rather she fell onto one stair, threw her elbows on her knees, began massaging either temple with her middle fingers, and breathed. She did not think ... just breathed. It took her two minutes before pensive awareness became easy. In and out. Just breathe, and calm down.
BANG! Gilda knocking on the music room's door caused her to bolt to her feet and almost run up to where Octavia just started sitting. Without thinking, Sunset joined her in a chair across and slouched her head onto the familiar table -- which sat with its chess board as if untouched for days. Another BANG! made her flinch and, to blot out the knocking, she covered her ears with either palm. Councilor Octavia just cocked a brow and turned her attention to a black book.
Seven knocks followed. Each sent a jolt down Sunset's spine, but, after a few seconds, they stopped.
Whilst she moved shaking hands from her ears to her eyes -- because she thought covering her own eyes would make her invisible to Octavia -- she heaved deep breaths for a time. Elapsing this time, Sunset only heard the councilor turn a couple pages, and she dared peaking through her fingers after the silence got strange.
Octavia paid her no attention. No glare? Hope fluttered Sunset's heart with this thought. Now I see! This is all a dream! I'm still dreaming! I'm gonna wake up anytime soon and freak out to myself in my room; none of this is actually happening! A smile twitched across her depressed face and she pinched her neck. Nothing happened; she was still there, so she pinched harder ... Nothing ... Again, she pinched ... Still nothing ... With her smile fading, panic returned and she smacked her face. "Oof! Ugh!" Sunset, still seeing the music room, brought a hand to her forehead, incised a breath between her lips, and held it for five seconds before sighing.
"Still think this is a dream?" Octavia tossed out while pinching a page. Sunset shook her sullen head in reply. "Well, do you feel better?" This, the near-panicked girl had something to vocalize about.
Hence, she whined, "N-no! I feel t-terri- no, aw- wait ... horrible! I'm terrified and I can't even say why!"
"You mean because those girls are extorting you?"
Sunset nodded before widening her eyes, smacking her knees, and feeling invisible weight fly off her shoulders as she confirmed, "You know?" Octavia shot her a look -- inciting an emendation. "R-right. Stupid question." What don't you know? Another stupid question hailed from her helpless mouth. "C-can't you ... do something?"
Octavia looked back to her book, flipped the page, and returned her gaze to Sunset with a stolid, "I could, but I refuse to stop them if that is your idea." Mysterious self interests, that's right.
"O-oh." Sunset deflated into her chair -- shoulders slumped.
"Why?" Octavia began while closing her book on her hand; she seemed to tilt her head in a forced, faux curiosity like she was feigning interest. "Not so much fun on the other end? Being treated like that?" This got Sunset's eyes to stare at their unfinished chess match.
"N-no! Of c-course ... I mean, I know that! I told you before: I understand now! I deserve every ounce of this malevolence, but my friends ... " When did we become actual friends come to think of it? "They don't deserve ... this. They don't deserve any of this! They're ... they're innocent! And now I'm about to bring them harm just by having been around them ... It's ... the worst!"
From who-could-say where, Sunset noticed an opportunity for her on the board. Duh! She interposed Octavia's check with her king's-side knight.
Octavia followed the sound, made by the knight being moved, to their game and hummed before tapping her foot. "So you saw it, huh." she muttered before castling on her queen's side -- thus giving her queen's rook access to a much wider file of influence. "Well, you could try hiding here all day, but that lock will budge eventually." Upon seeing Sunset's shocked reaction, she clarified, "Not because they would break in -- though they might -- but because I only have a free period for an hour or so."
At this, Sunset gave a dejected nod and pushed a pawn two spaces; doing this let her attack Octavia's bishop, which checked her before, from a spot protected by her knight. "I don't ... " she started while lowering her face into her palms. Then, words she never thought she'd say fell out of her mouth.
"I would rather stay in here with you -- distracting myself with this -- than face that again ... "
"Well, distraction will only do so-" Octavia cut herself off, slammed her book closed with a BOOSH! and sprang to her feet. "Are you joking?" Sunset's eyes popped out to meet Octavia's. She's ... ticked off by me? Why? "Are you actually going to start crying? In front of me no less?" Hearing this was a wake-up call, as Sunset noticed the liquid forming in her eyes.
Trying to wipe it away was fruitless, for it started falling involuntarily. She used her blurry, teary eyes to watch Octavia flounce her bishop over Sunset's pawn and instantly recaptured the square with her knight.
"That is the last thing you should be doing! Showing anyone! Especially me!" Infuriated, Octavia repositioned her queen and growled, "Did those girls really get to you that much? Hahaha, who am I even looking at?" Sunset never felt more humiliated ... even when the school was making her fear being buried alive.
Octavia, laughing at me? No no no. Please, wake up Sunset! At the very least, Sunset had the dignity to look at the councilor -- despite her state -- but her tears only got stronger and a lump formed in her throat.
It got worse, "Hahahaha, this is rich! You really are risible! Hilarious even! The Great Sunset Shimmer, who, not a month ago, was walking around -- shoulders rolled back, head high -- like she owned everything, is sitting in front of me bawling like a child!" Sunset fought to maintain eye contact and her face reddened until Octavia revealed a black-cased phone and wondered aloud, "Should I take a picture? Threaten to show it to the school if you step out of line?" Then Sunset's face paled and she hid her face in her hands again -- ignoring the contingency that her hands would get soaked.
"P-please ... Don't ... " she whimpered.
"'P-please ... '" Octavia repeated before tossing her phone passed Sunset with a thud. "I like black. Blackmail, though, is not my color, but what happened to you? Did Gilda drain the fluid holding up your spine or something? Did you become an invertebrate because of a few glares? Helpless vulnerability is not just not your color; it defies everything you are! I never thought I would see you look so ... so ugly!"
Silence conquered again; Sunset continued slouching with her hands over her leaking eyes in its reign.
One moment later, Octavia kicked Sunset's ankle. "Stand up," she demanded. Sunset refused. Another kick and a more sour tone accompanied her repeated, "Stand. Up." The councilor's face twisted in abhorrence. "Stand up like a person, right now, or I will march down there and let Gilda in here!" she hissed.
This caught Sunset's attention, and she shakily rose -- still staring down into her palms. Growling again, Octavia defined herself since Sunset apparently failed to comprehend. "I said, 'like a person,' Sunset. That means your head should be raised about 90 degrees ... Look at me." An irritated expression acted as the medium for another of the councilor's growls. However, this time, she wasn't waiting for compliance. "For fuck's sake, look at me Sunset!"
"Ah!" Sunset yelped when Octavia yanked her arms, by either wrist, away from her sobbing eyes.
"Yuck," the councilor grimaced at the feeling of tears touching her hands and shook Sunset dizzy before stepping right next to her so their noses almost touched. "You are better than this, Sunset. You can handle some torment. If you could not, you never would have made it so far as you did, so stop crying and moping around already! It's disgraceful, disingenuous ... disgusting ..."
With this, Octavia jostled Sunset a few more times, wiped her hands on the sobbing girl's jacket, and gave a strong push -- knocking Sunset off balance and introducing her rear to the floor.
Sunset inhaled again and again -- slowly calming down -- and stared up to see Octavia, with a furrowed brow and crossed arms, ask, "Well, are you going to stay down?" She's right. I hate to admit it, but she's wholly right. I didn't ... know it felt this bad, like you couldn't do anything but wallow when someone treats you like this. Like that person is gonna strangle you at any moment, but I can handle it. Frantic hands wiped away as she stood until her tears were no more.
"I'm ... sorry you had to see that." she offered while stretching the top of her head toward the ceiling.
"Me, too." came Octavia's flat response. Sitting down, she motioned to their chess game and asked, only a little irritation in her voice, "Now, are you going to let me checkmate you, or are you going to run?" Sunset was back in her chair without missing a beat.
Not long after, Octavia moved her queen to take Sunset's queen-side rook and attacked her queen under the protection of a remaining bishop. The fiery-haired girl prepared to make a move which seemed obvious to her, but paused when her opponent held out a cotton handkerchief made for cleaning instruments. "What's this?" she inquired with a quirked brow.
"Your face is going to stain if you fail to clean it properly; you must not show Gilda this weakness."
"Oh, thanks." Wait a minute, Sunset came to a crashing realization upon accepting the handkerchief and grabbing her queen to make her move. "What do you want? That's two, three favors, now?" Octavia's face fell under the spell of a mythic being -- turning stony.
"She catches on. I refuse beating around the bush, so listen closely." Sunset clutched her queen and swallowed. Here we go. "First, I want you to come play chess with me twice a week." Apparently Octavia noticed a 'what the hell' written on Sunset's face, for she elaborated, "You would be surprised at how few chess club members show any promise, and how few people play this game here period."
Acknowledging, Sunset let out an, "Ah," and returned her expression to an idle one.
"Second, I want you take my advice regarding Trixie and Gilda." Sunset was skeptical just like that, but used her queen to capture one of Octavia's pawns with a hum -- urging her forward.
However, before the councilor could continue, she had to honor the age old tradition and call, "Check."
Again silence governed. When it became strange, Sunset looked at Octavia, who had been glaring at the board, and asked, "Something wrong?"
" ... "
"No. Nothing 'wrong' I would say. Just ... I had not noticed that possibility." For what seemed like minutes, purple eyes narrowed at the chess pieces and blinked and blinked ... until she finally moved her king behind a pawn to keep it safe. Yes, that's a rook! Sunset cheered to herself and proudly captured the piece; only to receive a relieved sigh from Octavia. "There we go. Checkmate." Huh?
Sunset scanned the board over and over. She looked to each square surrounding her king by one space. Can't move there. Not there ... or there. Can't block the check. Can't kill the queen checking me. You must be kidding!
Councilor counseling became a bitter backdrop for her internal fury over losing. "Anyway, second, I want you to take my advice ... " Humming to indicate she was listening, Sunset suppressed her brooding. "Gilda and Trixie using you ... While I could not say I condone their methods, they tip their hands and offer greater help to us than you might think. For instance, now you and your friends can have a much stricter sense of security; it will be easy to compartmentalize friend from foe."
Hmm, Sunset thought and asked a question she wanted to understand quite some time ago: "Doesn't what they want kind of ... contradict your interests? I mean, the last thing you wrote on that petition ... "
"Oh, I think that problem is less prevalent than you might think. That petition is hindering me more than helping anyway." Octavia began with narrowing eyes and gave an offhanded explanation. "The Council has been busier thinking about reprimanding you than accelerating our schedule."
"You mean your schedule."
" ... " No denial.
"I did not foresee having to persuade you farther from interfering with Council affairs, but here-" She retrieved and presented her green thermos. "I have yet to have any myself today, but I imagine this will keep your sanity in check today more than mine. Of course, I expect this and my handkerchief back -- washed -- and, in return, you will continue avoiding the Council. Deal?"
A fraction of a second passed before Sunset grabbed the container and accepted, "I tire of Councilors anyway."
"Backwards. Councilors tire of you." Octavia retorted before offering one last insert. "Now do leave. I only have so much time here left to work and, while I would love to ignore it and start crushing you in another match ... " Sunset frowned with half her face. "I do want to get things done, so shoo."
Fine. Sunset jammed Octavia's thermos and handkerchief into her bag -- to avoid drawing attention to them upon leaving -- and stood straight with a new steadiness about her.
"However," Sunset gladly stopped when the councilor continued, "I promise that, if you make a convincing performance -- not that that should be hard considering how you just humiliated yourself to me -- to Gilda and Trixie, they will advance ... thus tipping their hands even more. Let them feel like they are winning land." Humming, the still girl considered these words. Don't you dare bring up that chess game. "See, Trixie thinks a bit like you; someone attacks, you attack back, trying to chink and chink at the armor 'til you find a weak point, but -- if one of you finds a weak point -- you try to press and press. This is a weakness, for you can anticipate your enemy. Give her ground but, really, just let her walk deeper into your territory, and close in around her on either side when she inevitably ignores something important. Like what I did to you with my bishop and pawn line." Damn you to the deepest pit. Down to the Earth's center.
Unlocking and yanking the music room door open yielded ... Gilda. Who would've thought? "Sunny!" she greeted with a cheery, too-stretched-to-be-true smile. "You're lucky I was gonna give you until the end of my free period before I did anything ... drastic!" Before, I felt bad for anyone who didn't get a free first period, but now I just feel bad for anyone who shares it with you.
"Yeah, lucky me." Sunset spat and pushed passed Gilda who, of course, followed right behind.
"What happened? I got worried; thought you might be freaking out." Sarcasm trickled between each of her words and Sunset -- thinking of an insult -- wheeled around to face a hated face. Well, I was, but I don't think that's your business. Now is it?
Gesturing to Gilda's face with a hand, she leaned in and whispered, "I don't know if you own a mirror, but I bet it would freak out and break given that brutish face. I'm a little more shatterproof than any reflective material unlucky enough to meet you."
This elicited a grunt, but Gilda's face reclaimed a smile and she chuckled out, "Can't say I've needed a mirror to look this good but ... We'll see how much more is a little."
Each of them discovered, throughout the next 50 minutes, that 'a little' lasted at least that long. Sure, the Scowling Seas were dismal for Sunset, but she navigated their waves from a taller mast than before, avoiding larger ones where made sense, and found herself docked in the school's library -- a large, glass dome acted as its rotunda-like ceiling. Of course, Gilda's nerve-wracking, looming stare sailed with her right to a desk; the gold-eyed girl even flipped through a few books, but ceased to continue prodding Sunset.
"Tell me: what's so interesting to you about chemistry that you picked the biggest encyclopedias about it?"
Sunset's eyes narrowed as she glanced away from the book -- ignoring the desire to punch something. "I'm not sure what you think you're implying but, if you must know: I'm curious about making chlorine trifluoride. Apparently it will melt through concrete and, I figure, I might as well raze your whole house when I get to it."
Gilda's face said, 'chlorine say what now,' when Sunset delivered the chemical name like it was a slurred note, but she hummed and vocalized, "I'm positive you know what I am implying," before adding, "Arson suits you -- hair and all."
"Also," Sunset made an addition to her own statement -- even though she was just about to return to the book -- at this, "The bigger books have the more dull passages. See, I would rather break my back mixing clay for three days than converse with you, so why don't you put a sock in it and waste your time watching me do nothing?" Upon returning her nose the pages, Gilda flicked a crumpled up, torn piece of paper at Sunset's forehead. She ignored it.
"Hahaha, Sunny, the day's only just started!"
Initially Mrs. Meyer's English class felt like a reprieve from Gilda's shenanigans, but Sunset soon discovered that the Scowling Seas' waves crashed against these shores as well. Students turned almost every time the teacher did and Sunset was more engrossed in schoolwork than she'd ever been.
... Can't spitballs be enough? Please stop looking at me ...
When Sunset started getting uneasy, she straightened her back and recited, You can handle some torment, but her feet still tapped and she still rubbed her hands together.
A few kids waved their phones at Sunset in conjunction with obnoxious, shit-faced, and rude features or hand gestures. "I get it," she mouthed more than once but no one seemed to care. Closer to the class's end, some of her peers texted something but Sunset forgot about it, for the teacher began reading a long passage and more than half the people in front of her turned around.
You can handle ... Sunset swallowed and shuffled in her seat. You can ...
Ding! She was put at ease by the dismissal bell. However, that ease lasted until she walked out of class. "Sunny!" a loathed voice called and a loathed arm wrapped around Sunset's neck. I hate that name! Stop calling me that! Sunset wanted to shout, but knew better than to give more ammo.
"I am going to break this arm and these damn fingers if you keep touching me like this."
Gilda only started physically poking her and gasped, "'Owww! The Malicious Sunset is bullying me again!' is something I've been dying to call since the rally. Come on, do something. Do something!"
Stoicism forced outward, Sunset fumed -- well beyond irritated -- inside, God dammit! You stupid, lumbering jackass! If we were alone I would kick the shit out of you again. Alas, they were not alone and, despite how much she wanted to, assaulting Gilda in even a small way publicly was definitely stupid.
Liberating Sunset from her bully was her next class's door; it only saved her for just over an hour.
This time, at least, she was prepared and ducked under Gilda's attempted grapple before jogging to make distance. "I swear I will scream your head off if you do that again!" she growled.
Gilda picked at this empty threat. "What's that gonna do? Hmm, oh, I know: 'Christ!' I would pretend to cry a little, 'Sunset's- hic- c-cussing me out ... a-again! ' is what I would say." Without any sound argument, Sunset grumbled as Gilda yanked her into an arm link; her fruitless, poorly-suppressed, angry attempts at resistance amused the wannabe warrior -- who patted the top of Sunset's head twice again. "Just be a good girl and walk with me. We're all friends here. See?"
"We are not, have not been, and never shall be, friends ... You fuck-" Gilda cleared her throat when Sunset's voice raised a bit -- like she was getting ready for a performance.
On her face, Sunset wrung her lips into anger, but inside she was begging on loop, Let me go. Let me go ... Please ... Just let ... Me ... Go-ho-hoo ... AUGH! Keeping to her desire, she tried to move toward her next class fast, but Gilda had none of it. "Ouch!" she yelped when the gold-eyed bully elbowed her side and tugged her closer.
"Walk. Slower." Gilda commanded, the Scowling Seas were taken by snickering storms as some students suppressed various laughs, and, of course, some didn't bother reigning themselves in.
You can handle some torment ... "Gilda's plaything? Perfect ending for her." someone muttered.
Sunset wanted to cry again. Though, more than anything, she just wanted to be let go. Mustering some degree of rigidity, she grumbled, "How are you even showing up before I can get out of class? Are you skipping an entire day just to ... parade me around?" This got a snorted, blood-boiling chuckle.
"Simple thing really." Gilda refused, though, to define. "Not like I'd tell you though; that would be dumb."
" ... " I hate you, Sunset realized she didn't have to silence this thought, so she strung together a jab. "You know, Gilda, you're starting to grow on me."
Gasping, the wannabe warrior fawned, "Really? Oh, Sunny, you're coming to your senses!"
"Yeah, it just hit me. You're really growing ... into someone -- somehow -- more detestable with every step or breath you steal from the rest of us." every word Sunset doled out with unconstrained anger.
Gilda added a bashful bass to her teasing, "Oh, Sunny Bunches, please!" That's even worse ... "Not in public! I get that, in some cultures, aggression is a display of unbridled affection, but isn't walking together enough for now?" I am going to break your face.
"You know," Sunset rebutted, "In some cultures -- the ones that make sense -- aggression is a display of unbridled, fervent, 'I'm-going-to-drag-a-knife-across-your-throat-while-you-sleep' rage."
Finally, Gilda's turpentine scent departed with another class, and Sunset found herself begging not to have to rejoin the gold-eyed bully. Much to her, peaking around the corner, delight, when the bell for lunch rang there was no sign of the girl. Time to go, she knew as she beelined for the cafeteria. Alas, a shuffling pair of feet and a fist grasping her flowing hair devastated her hopes. "Ouch!" she yelped, only a decameter from the doors of (hopefully) safety.
"Phew," that irritating, maddening tone called as Gilda pulled her into another half hug, "Little late that time. My friends and I have really been looking forward to lunch with you!" No. No ... NO!
Sunset was about to scream anything. Consequences be damned! Although she was ready to shout incoherence to express her seething frustration, a bundle of blonde and one of pink caught her eyes and presented an outlet for her anger.
"APPLEJACK!" she cried with all her might; it startled the farm girl, but Gilda pulled away as the called blonde whirled around. Sweet freedom! Sunset felt like she was flying to the side of someone she -- just last week -- would've loathed seeing.
"What is it? What're ye screamin' about?"
My worst enemy, the old 'running to someone who would get you in trouble if they knew you were bullying someone else,' just became my best friend. "It's uhm ... " Sunset began but heard a grunt as Gilda -- not far behind -- leaned against a locker, and chose to loudly state, "Well, see, I just wanted to tell you and Pinkie that Rainbow and the others are starting to feel a lot better! We should get everyone together tomorrow!"
"Really?" Pinkie yelled also, "How'd you know?" Never have I once thought I'd be happy to hear you shout.
"Well, I asked the principal just a bit ago; she got an email!" came another, gross lie. "Come on, come on, let's go sit and talk all about it!"
Applejack pushed the air in front of Sunset back a bit and said, "Okay, okay, just hold yer horses; we just have to put up a couple more of these fliers and we'll be right behind ye." Sunset leaned next to the bulletin board they worked at.
"That's okay. I can wait!" she nearly breathed out liberty and gratitude before glancing away from them, to a locker-ridden wall where Gilda stared -- waving her phone back and forth. After raising her left middle finger, Sunset mouthed, "I fucking get it. I'm not an idiot."
Her finger stayed raised while Gilda tilted her head back and forth in skepticism.
When the trio sat at a lunch table where at least five often sat, Sunset was entirely aware of gold irises boring into her from another table not far off. "Well, that's a fine thing to hear," Applejack commented but was far from Sunset's main focus, so she barely gave an offhanded acknowledgement. "I didn't even know poor Rarity and Fluttershy came down with it 'til an hour or two ago."
"Me neither," Gilda's glower was a blacksmith's hammer flattening steel centimeter by centimeter. You can handle some torment. Upon remembering this again, Sunset reached into her bag and retrieved Octavia's thermos with distasteful muscle tremors.
Heat surprised her when she took a sip. Gah! That's a damn fine thermos ...
Sunset was wrought from her thoughts by Applejack continuing to talk to her. "Uh, Sunset? Yer sure you ain't feelin' sick?" No, I feel terrible. Today sucks ... I can't say that.
As it turned out, 'a little,' more shatterproof was starting to be a lot more defined, and Sunset strained for a lie she really didn't wish to give. "No I ... am fine! Just fine!" she continued talking loudly to ensure anyone eavesdropping could pick apart her conversation. "All these eyes on me! Who would say things were going sour? Do they bother you?"
With this, the blonde's mouth formed an understanding, 'O,' and replied, "Shucks, Sunset, They ain't lookin' at me. I don't think I could handle all that attention if they were, though. You sure're keepin' yerself together."
"Thanks!" Sunset did not resist the urge to shout while trying to steadily pour coffee. Keep my sanity in check.
Pinkie shared a glance with Applejack before the farmer asked, "Uh, listen Shuggy, I can't blame ye fer bein' a little upset." A LITTLE? I'm about ready to charge through a damn window! "But, we're right here." Muttering nothing intelligible, Sunset didn't say anything else. Instead, she drummed her fingers on their table and stared into her coffee.
"Aren't you gonna, you know, eat something?" Pinkie chimed in.
Upon, after crossing her arms across her chest, leaning back, Sunset exclaimed, "I don't have time to eat. I'm in the middle of a battle of wills!" A couple snickers graced her ears but she continued trying to boil her coffee with her eyes. Who cares how crazy that sounds? It has to be a 'convincing performance' after all.
"Isn't that what lunchtime's for? So we have time to eat?" Sunset grumbled more incoherence. "Oookay, Sunnysideup." This remark from Pinkie dragged the brooding girl's attention from her drink.
"What did you just call me?"
Rage wasn't directed at Pinkie, but it looked like it enough for the pink-haired girl to recognize when a nickname was undesired. "Sunset. I said 'Sunset.'"
"Uh huh." Slowly, a tender touch found her shoulder, thus directing her to a concerned-faced Applejack.
Huffing, the farmer asked, "Sunset, are you sure there's ... nothin' else?" Of course there's something else! Don't you think I would've told you if I could! Wait ... would I? Sunset thought about her track record of honesty regarding just about everything and came to a decisive conclusion in seconds. Probably not. However, another idea came to her; this would both let her vent a little and hopefully make Gilda's life a little harder.
"Actually ... there is something!" she yelled -- hoping Gilda could hear directly. "See, I have this thing I want to talk to you about, but I can't put it into words! Would you walk with me to my next class?"
"Uh, sure just ... can ye talk a little lower?" Sunset's eye twitched, she tilted her head, nodded, and stretched a fraudulent grin. Lunch ended with a gleeful note, eyes were still locked to Sunset, but a sense of breathing room which seemed absent all day pervaded her step.
Intermittently during the walk, Applejack questioned whatever it was Sunset wanted to tell her, but the bullied girl just hushed her and urged them onward. Alas, when they sadly reached the classroom, Sunset had to give Applejack next to nothing; at least she could speak at a more normal volume for the girl -- considering Gilda was practically right behind her with a deep frown.
"Sorry to keep you in the dark, Applejack, but I'll explain things one day; and, one day, you'll understand why I so rudely dragged you here." Surprise! Applejack was not satisfied with this explanation, yet Sunset stomped into the class regardless.
Coursework was then done with a much more chipper attitude. That felt good. Gilda's face ...
Laughing to herself only lasted until the class ended, for Gilda's lour was less ... enjoyable from a dangerous distance. "You unfaithful bitch!" Sunset's rib gave a little tink when the gold-eyed bully elbowed it this time, and a bruise was likely to form after she twisted her victim's arm. "I'm the only light-haired person you have or ever will look good on!"
Although recovering from pain was Sunset's first reaction, she eventually yanked back on Gilda's arm, stared into her oh-so-punch-able face, and -- with an exaggerated, 'please-get-away-from-me-and-drop-dead' eye roll -- retorted, "I've always had this pernicious fetish to break the abusive ones' hearts."
Despite her day's long and vexing quality, nothing made Sunset feel better than when Mr. Powers placed a quiz on her desk referencing problems and ideas she didn't understand. "See," the teacher explained when she inquired as to what was before her, "We've been working on Lagrange point calculations and other orbital mechanical mathematics for the last couple days. This is a quick quiz to help cement the idea; you would remember if you were paying any attention during that time."
Well -- for as dumb as she probably looked in that moment -- she was ecstatic to take the quiz, 90 percent unanswered, to Nential-san's desk, return to her seat, and look around at everyone else who still had their faces buried in arithmetic. Nice to be the one staring rather than stared at for a change.
Mr. Powers, of course, raised his brow more than once at the beaming girl and called her after class.
"Sunset," he offered, "you can make this up next Friday if you'd like, okay?"
"Sure," she dismissed, "Let's talk about it next week. I just wanna go home, okay?" Thank you, she thought with a hint of jollity as she walked out his door into Gilda's waiting, pompous arms. Of course, she suppressed her delight at the thought of the day's end and let the bully drag her right to Trixie. Arriving, she chose to look at the ground at first -- knowing that was against their demands -- and sigh out, "Alright, I'll go to the stupid ice-skating thing."
Gilda sounded like she was melting at the sight and Trixie couldn't, or didn't care to, restrain her laughter. "Sunny, I think you forgot: I want you to look at us when you comply."
Dammit, Sunset found herself twiddling her fingers -- not intentionally -- before inching her head to meet two annoying faces: Trixie leaned against the wall on one side of the door, a hand failing to cover a profuse smile, and Gilda leaned against the other with a quirked brow and a grating giggle gestating Sunset's desire to smack her scathing, brutish face.
Submitting to their inconveniencing, Sunset rolled her eyes between the two and acted like she was talking to a foreigner. "I ... comply," Apparently Gilda really wanted her to say 'comply.' "I'll. Go. To. The. Ice. Skating. Shit."
Either one of them were silent for a moment, like they were debating whether or not they were satisfied, so Sunset urged the interaction to an end. "So, can I have my phone back now? I'm expecting to hear ... tonight ... that my friends are safe and sound."
"Eh, yeah, yeah," Gilda tossed out as she held Sunset's device -- waving it in the air. "Feel free not to go if you don't hear from them. I'll keep my word as long as you keep yours. Honor among thieves and all."
Sunset reached for her phone but Gilda dropped it ... They shared a glare, yet Sunset was smart enough not to lean down and pick it up. Instead, she opened the school's side door, kicked her phone outside into frigid wastes, and went storming out. Alas, Gilda stopped her by grabbing her waist either side, leaning too close for comfort, and whispering, "I'll see you Sunday, Sunny Buns."
These words sent a chill down Sunset's spine, but she nonetheless smacked Gilda's hands and stomped through the door. Before it closed, she heard Trixie snicker, "Good job." Not that it wasn't the tactical goal, making them feel like they were winning, but that didn't mean Sunset liked it.
"Ugh," she groaned out as she retrieved her phone and headed home. God! it's f-freezing out here!
...
Getting there saw her sniffling, tears streaming, and muscles spasming -- both from cold and stress -- against her door for ten minutes. Next, anger set in and she paced from point to point -- muttering angry gibberish at nothing. Sure enough, when she messaged Rainbow dash -- asking her to call A.S.A.P. -- someone dialed her.
"Sunset?" The athlete's voice was tired, frail, unlike her own. "Do you wanna explain what's going on? I'm hardly near home and I feel god awful." That damn ... That damn knave! I said I'd do what she wanted! Why'd she hurt you anyway? Isn't that ... wrong somehow?"
"T-tomorrow," despondent, Sunset shakily responded, "I'll explain at SSC tomorrow." She bit back more tears.
Without waiting for a goodbye or acknowledgement of any sort, Sunset ended the call, tossed her phone on her bed, and loomed over her desk. You are better than this, she remembered and set Octavia's thermos on the surface. For a few moments, she rummaged through things and scribbled on paper various things the councilor (turned counselor) said. Large, Copic markers were used to detail her favorite phrase: "You can handle some torment." Reading the words not only gave her courage, but an idea.
Ten times the phrase was repeated before she entered her bathroom and stared at herself. She wasn't pretty; her face was stained by tears, her jacket was scratched, and her eyes were stolid.
Worst of all, her form was sickening.
Every curl of hair, every curve, every feature made her feel like hurling, but she persisted staring. If you can't be honest with yourself, you'll never know left from right. "Hey," she began with an irate tone. "You are Sunset Shimmer. You've done some terrible things to people ... but there's more to life than the past. Everything you've done -- every mistake -- you know that's a stepping stone." Her stomach dropped like she ate or drank too much, but she had to know that she could look at herself. "Start telling the truth. Start thinking about others more. Start-"
Puke welling, and ultimately spewing, wrenched her from the reflection to a wastebasket for three minutes; hence, she wandered away from the reflection -- not daring to look again -- to collapse on her bed. After sitting for a moment, she remembered something she found while cleaning.
Beneath her bed was medium-sized, cardboard box full of photos -- collecting dust as she'd been too ... distraught to address it. Within were victory pictures ... On top, a picture of herself from Canterlot's 'Summer Soiree' situated itself; Sunset had a condescending, pompous, demanding smirk in it ... very reminiscent of Gilda's or Trixie's. She bore an insultingly 'look-at-me-I'm-better' dress and a school tiara like it was part of her -- like it belonged on her. She kicked the box back under her bed, for It made her sick to see.
... It looked nothing like the image which just made her vomit.