//------------------------------// // Chapter Two: Over-Acheiving Dropout // Story: On the Horizon // by mushroompone //------------------------------// For the record, I do totally get what Compass Rose was saying about following impulses. It’s like a less fairy-tale way of saying ‘follow your heart,’ y’know? I mean, thinking about all the art, the food, the innovations that wouldn’t exist without a little impulsivity and a little support… well, it’s enough to make anypony wanna drop out of school and start tinkering in their garage, myself included. What Compass Rose didn’t properly convey about this particular problem-solving method, however, is just how quickly that impulse can spread. You would think that the impulsivity would really only pose a risk to the epicenter of impulsiveness, yes? But that’s exactly what it is. It’s an epicenter of disaster that ripples outward and uproots everypony else. I can think of literally seven ponies off the top of my head who got sucked into this ‘playing a show in Manehatten’ nonsense. ...You want a list, don’t you? Well, let’s see. First off, there’s Compass Rose. I put her through the humility of calling an ‘old friend’ (which we all know is code for ‘awkward acquaintance I’d much rather forget’) for a bizarre favor which could seriously impact his revenue, at least for the day. I’m going to be generous to myself here and call that two ponies, since I have no way of knowing how many dependents this cafe owner had to provide for. Next up, Lyra and Vinyl. I had said yes without even thinking of asking them. I mean, for all I knew, they could have been completely unavailable. Could have been going on vacation, or interviewing for a job, or demoing a track. But, who cares? Just say yes to random shit, everypony else gets to clear their schedules for you. After that--and, honestly, I should have moved this up a slot or two--comes my parents. My parents, who were already losing their minds over the C I had earned quite deliberately, had to be informed that I was quitting school to play with my band. Don’t worry, mom and dad, it’s only temporary! Unless I really like it. Then it’s definitely not temporary, and you can be disappointed in me for years to come. Lastly was my brother. He had always faced heat from my parents, as far back as I could remember it, but after being branded a ‘bad influence’ things got a lot worse. Of course, this was largely my fault. Failing Celestia’s entrance exam took quite a toll on me. Shining Armor would have said literally anything to get me to stop crying. I still remember that conversation like it was yesterday… I had been lying on my bed, legs splayed out like a starfish, staring at my whirling ceiling fan with the depth and desperation of a middle-aged drug addict. He had pushed open the door to my bedroom, his eyes wide and apologetic. It was kind of like the way your mom opened the door after you got dumped, or the way your dad opened the door before giving you the talk. It seemed that talking a foal down from academic failures was the charge of an older sibling. “Twily?” he asked, voice soft. “Can we talk?” I, stubborn little turd that I was, crossed my forelegs over my chest and rolled away from him. He walked over and leaned against my mattress. “Y’know, Relative Motion dropped out of school.” “That’s a myth…” I retorted. Not quite depressed enough to stop being an insufferable smartass, it would appear. Shining sighed. “Well, you can’t blame me for trying.” I curled myself into a little ball. Shining reached over and put a hoof on my shoulder. “I know how it feels to let yourself down. Believe me. But let’s try to think about the upsides, here.” I sniffled, turning my head back ever so slightly towards Shining. “You mean like… a pro/con list?” Shining chuckled. “More like a pro list, Twi.” “Well…” I hauled myself up into a sitting position and scooted to the edge of the bed with my brother. “It doesn’t sound very scientific. But I guess we can try?” Oh, how simple it was to turn me around back then. “I was hoping you’d say so!” Shining said, giving me an encouraging rub on the back. “Do you wanna start, or should I?” I was silent for a moment. “You.” “Okay,” Shining agreed. He looked up at the ceiling, stroking his chin and pretending to consider the pros he had very clearly already come up with. “Well, let’s see… which school do you think would be less stressful? Celestia’s school, or public school?” “I guess… public school?” I guessed, looking up at my brother for approval. “I think you guessed right! How about…” He trailed off, stroked his chin again. “Where do you think you’ll be the smartest pony in the school? Celestia’s school, or public school” “Mm… both!” Shining laughed again. “You betcha! Where do you think you’d learn more kinds of things… the magic school, or the public school?” “Oh!” I cocked my head. “I never thought of it that way. The public school!” “Your turn, now.” “Hm…” It was my turn to stroke my chin, as silly as it probably looked. “Well, I don’t know any of the fillies at Celestia’s school… but I bet some of the ponies I know from the park are going to public school!” “Hey, that’s a good one!” Shining said. “And I bet I’ll have lots more time to keep studying on my own if I go to public school… maybe I can even take some extracurriculars!” I looked up at Shining. “Do you think public school has reading club? Or library club? Or study club?” Shining laughed again. The amount of time he spent laughing confused me at the time; I now realize that I was just too damn cute. “See, Twily? There’s lots of good reasons to go to public school.” “I guess…” I agreed, though still somewhat disappointed. “Look, you can still be angry about it for now. Just promise me you’ll give the public school a real try?” Shining nudged me with his elbow. I sighed. “Okay. I guess I can give it a try. For science?” Shining chuckled, and nodded. “For science.” Anyway, to make a long story short, Shining had egged on my public school journey from day one. And it’s not his fault that I’m so blah about everything now-- he was just trying to put a band-aid on my filly boo-boo and get me acting like myself again. How could he have seen the myriad of ways it would go wrong? The sheer number of ponies I would drag down into my madness, my impulsivity? Did I mention there were at least seven? “Whew…” I muttered. I pressed a hoof into my chest, hoping to calm the burn. “Hey,” Vinyl elbowed me. “You’re not having a heart attack, are you? I read this article about how mares don’t do that whole falling-over thing when they have a heart attack. They just get all sweaty and nauseous and their… legs hurt, or something.” “Legs?” Lyra questioned. She repositioned her guitar onto her back and began to examine her forelegs as if they were heretofore-unknown appendages. “Why would your legs hurt?” Vinyl rolled her eyes. “It’s science, Lyra. Mare science. Don’t you know anything about medicine?” Vinyl turned back to me. “For reals: you having a heart attack?” I shook my head. “No, no. Not a heart attack. I’m just-- just nervous, I guess.” Vinyl nodded sagely. “So, a panic attack, then?” “When did you become a doctor, Vinyl?” Lyra teased. “Last night when I couldn’t sleep. I just started reading encyclopedia articles. It totally didn’t help, I actually got really scared reading about endometriosis.” Vinyl paused to remove her sunglasses from her mane and place them over her eyes. “Medicine is fucked up, yo.” “Lyra, have you tuned?” I asked, now twirling the pink lock of my mane around one hoof. “Oh, shoot!” Lyra whipped her guitar back around to the front. “Twi, be a lamb and gimme an E?” I pressed the E on my keyboard. The cafe quieted completely in under three seconds, and all eyes were on us. Vinyl looked at me. Lyra looked at me, then at Vinyl, then at me. “Oh! S-sorry,” I said. “Just tuning up! Won’t be a second.” It took a moment, but conversation resumed as normal. Vinyl took her position behind her complex equipment. “Dude, this sucks!” she hissed. “Stupid cafe doesn’t even have a backstage!” “Don’t disparage the venue, Vinyl!” Lyra scolded, all on an E. She shifted up to a B and sung “Twilight, could you give me a B?” I obliged, pressing the B on my keyboard. “Thank you!” She sung, this time sustaining as she tuned. You ever get the feeling that you’re going to fail an exam while you’re studying? That sort of sinking feeling, where you know you should have started studying earlier, or should have asked a friend for help, or maybe just given up and cheated? Well, my stomach was in my hooves. No, below my hooves. Seeping through the floor and into the basement. This was one test we were most certainly going to fail. I pressed the B key over and over, holding it down as long as the tone would sustain, then releasing and hitting it again. Every time I pressed it was like an ice pick chipping away at the little piece of me that wasn’t actively experiencing a panic attack. “G please!” G. G. G. Not a panic attack. You don’t have a panic disorder, Twilight. You’re stressed. You put a lot of pressure on yourself, y’know? You’re an overachiever. That’s just your nature. An anxious overachiever. “Now D!” She was reaching the end of her range, still several notes to go. D. How many strings were on a guitar again? D. Come on, you know this. D. Don’t look back, Twilight. If you look back, everypony in this cafe will know you’re counting the strings on that guitar. Then what are you gonna do? D. You wanna be a musician, and you don’t even know how many strings are on a guitar? D. Have to be a musician. D. Now you have to be a musician, Twi. No other options. “A!” A. Oh, that letter always makes me think of tests. A. It’s a shame it’s such a common letter. Not as common as… what’s the most common letter, again? Is it T? Seems like T. A. No, it can’t be T. Maybe it’s M? I feel like I use M a lot. A. “Last one! E!” E! That’s it, E was the most common letter. E. At least you remembered something. That’s good. E. Your mind may be thoroughly swiss-cheesed, but at least you know the most common letter. E. That’ll come in handy, hm? E. Super often, too. E. “Twilight?” Did I waste my time in public school? E. “Yo, Twilight!” Did I even learn any spells while I was there? E. I feel like the only thing-- E. --I actually learned-- E. --is that I hate-- E. --public school! “Twilight!” Lyra pulled me out of my thoughts while a hoof on my shoulder. “Yah!” I cried out. “Oh… sorry. I guess I might have zoned out for a second there.” I forced an awkward giggle. Vinyl pushed her glasses up onto her forehead. “Dude… you panicking? You can tell me. I learned all the breathing exercises and junk for when Octavia was auditioning for the Canterlot Orchestra.” Without bothering to probe further, Vinyl placed one hoof on my shoulder and stared at me with such intensity that she may have been trying to set me on fire. “Mm?” was all I could manage as I leaned away from her, my own eyes wide and unblinking. “Dude.” Vinyl reeled me back in. “Breathe with me. In…” “Vinyl, not now!” I hissed. My eyes flickered to the audience and back, and I realized that not one of them was looking up anymore. For some reason, that made me feel even worse. “Twi, pay attention.” Vinyl was surprisingly firm when she wanted to be. “In?” I recoiled more. “Don’t make faces. In.” As much as I didn’t want to give in, I was running out of air, so I took a raspy breath in. “That sucked, but okay.” Vinyl’s mouth twitched, then she chuckled. “Get it? Sucked, ‘cause you-- ‘cause you sucked in-- that’s nothing.” “Out?” I asked. “Oh, yeah, out.” I let it out. “Okay, do it again,” Vinyl said. "In…" All the while, her eyes were locked with mine. Those ruby-red eyes… They were kinda beautiful, actually. Real round and… and red… why did she ever cover them up? She should have been famous for those eyes, should have been known for those eyes. Such a nice red. Autumn leaf red. Ballgown red. "Out." Her breath rushed against my throat. Celestia, my throat… "Vinyl?" I murmured. "You doin' alright, champ?" Vinyl asked. "Oh…" My chest heaved. "Oh, fuck, Vinyl, she's gonna--" And I was off. Couldn't vomit in the venue, after all. It was amazing how outrageously, inconveniently considerate I could be, even on the verge of puking. I exploded through the front doors, but it wasn't far enough. If I barfed in the street, the whole cafe would still see it! What a way to ruin a meal, right? Seconds to spare. My throat was burning, my jaw clenched shut in an effort to make it somewhere safe. No alleys, no corners-- I mean, fuck! Did they want me to just let loose in the gutter? Who designed this street, anyway? That was when I spotted it, my version blurring, pitching and yawing, rocking and rolling… bile climbing the back of my throat. Knees knocking. I wish I'd been in a better state of mind. I wish that I could remember it more perfectly, and under better circumstances. I wish I had had the time to memorize the tears in the striped awning, and the arrangement of fresh breads and pies in the front window. I wish I had been able to close my eyes and take a deep breath as I stood in the doorway, taking in the smoky scent of the wood-burning oven and the tart notes of apples and lemon dancing above it. I wish I had noticed who was in there at the time--ponies that would undoubtedly come to play an enormous role in the next few years of my life--maybe even say hello, buy something. But that didn't happen, because I was going to vomit. I was going to vomit harder than any pony had ever vomited before. I was going to blow chunks at a velocity heretofore unheard of. I was-- Oh, stop thinking about it, you idiot. I flew through the door of the building across the street, fast enough to ruffle the awning over the front window. I didn’t stop to notice what kind of establishment this was, and I barely registered the tinkle of the bell over my head. The smell of warm pastries never reached my nose because I couldn’t even breathe because if I breathed I would vomit. “Hey!” the mare behind the counter yelled. “Hey, miss!” I didn’t stop to look. I was moving on pure instinct now. I’m convinced that I found the bathroom by some sort of sixth-sense, in all honesty. I made it moments before disaster. I didn’t even think to close the door. The volume and… well, wetness of my retching, combined with what was probably a fast-travelling smell, thinned the bakery’s line considerably. And, of course, by “thinned considerably” I mean “eliminated.” The first thing she ever said to me, dripping with southern charm, was “You’d better be dyin’ of somethin’ horrible, ‘cause otherwise I’ll have to kick your ass.” Well. I guess the first first thing she said was “hey,” but that’s not nearly as fun to tell ponies. I was resting my cheek on the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl, my arm wrapped around it with a sort of fierce desperation. I was done vomiting, sure, but this toilet had seen me through it. Through it all. What a great toilet. With a disgusting belch, I managed to turn my head to the side and look up at the bakery’s owner. She was really tall. Though, to be fair, that may be due in part to my position on the floor. Her coat was this really nice orange-- not the orange you usually think of when you hear “orange.” Not an orange-y orange. Kind of a sunset-y orange. A soft-around-the-edges orange. The kind of orange that makes you think of fall, not the 70s. To top it all off, there was a fine dusting of freckles across her snout and under her eyes. So light it could have been flour, or powdered sugar, or whatever they use in bakeries. Her mane was a striking natural blonde, pulled into a no-nonsense bun at the back of her head, fastened in place with a surplus of bobby pins, imprisoned further by a hairnet. Her tail was done up just the same way. Her eyes were super green. I legitimately cannot think of a prettier way to say that. They were just real green. “Yep,” I said. She narrowed her eyes. Her freckles scrunched up a bit. “‘Yep’ what?” “Yep, I’m dying.” “Twilight!” Screeched a more familiar voice. Lyra and Vinyl came skidding into my view, which was growing clearer by the second. They both looked like they’d seen me get hit by a carriage in the middle of the street. Vinyl put a hoof over her mouth and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, that’s so gross…” “Twilight, are you okay?” Lyra asked. “What happened back there?” The mare who worked the counter scoffed. “What happened is your friend here chased every last customer outta my bakery! Y’all better be hungry, ‘cause you’re buyin’ every last thing in that case!” She pointed emphatically to the array of baked goods on display under her counter. Vinyl looked positively green. Lyra looked taken aback. “I’m sorry, who are you?” The mare whipped the hairnet off of her head and threw it down on the floor in anger. “I’m Applejack, consarn it! This is Applejack’s Bakery--my bakery--and your friend killed my profits for the day!” “Chill out, AJ!” Vinyl cut in. “It’s not like she meant to! Can’t you cut her a break? She looks dead!” I rolled my head back down and closed my eyes. My friends would fight this for me. I just wanted the cold, cold porcelain. “Don’t call me AJ!” Applejack responded. “Get your friend outta my bakery!” “Should we come back for all the stuff in the case?” Lyra asked timidly. “Out!” Applejack bellowed. I can hardly remember being carried out of there. I’m not entirely certain I was carried, to be honest-- My brain may have been so shot at that point that I walked myself back to our van with no trouble at all, talking all the while. Then again, I did come around with a considerable number of bumps, bruises, and scrapes I did not remember getting. So I think I was probably carried very poorly. Strangely, the only thought I’m certain was in my mind was one of Applejack. She felt so familiar to me, like I had met her at some part-time job in high school, or maybe she was in an opposing team’s marching band or something. Perhaps I lived near her for some time before her family moved away. The answer felt so close, and yet it kept flitting just out of my grasp. When I woke up from my cold-sweat nap, Vinyl was sitting beside me. She was reading something, I think-- some horror novel. “Where’s her hat?” I mumbled. Vinyl’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” I closed my eyes and moaned softly. “Ooh, Celestia. I feel like I got hit by a freight train.” Vinyl nodded. “Lyra and I aren’t feeling too good, either. We think it was food poisoning, probably from that stupid gas station food. Nopony got it bad as you, though,” she said with a sympathetic chuckle. “Sorry, Twi.” I sat up. “Food poisoning?” I repeated. “Really, you think so?” “Don’t sit up so fast!” Vinyl scolded. She pushed me back down onto my pillow. “And, yeah. If you’re asking because you don’t think you have a panic disorder, lemme just--” “I don’t have a panic disorder!” “For fuck’s sake, Twi.” Vinyl shook her head. “You need to start taking this seriously! You’ve always been a worry wart, but it’s gotten way worse lately. I don’t need to be worried for the both of us, okay? I don’t have the emotional capacity for that shit.” I tucked my snout down. “Sorry.” Vinyl shrugged. “I-It’s cool. You don’t have to be sorry or anything.” I sighed. Vinyl had that look in her eyes that told me further arguing would get me nowhere. She was stubborn like that. It was admirable, in a way. Just not when you wanted to get her to budge. “I’ll go apologize tomorrow,” I said. “Maybe buy something.” Vinyl nodded. “Sure thing, champ. As long as you’re up for it.” “Yeah…” I murmured. I rolled over to face the wall. Vinyl pulled my blanket up over my shoulder, gave my back a little bit of a rub, and picked up her book once more. Sleep was near once again. Memories of Applejack were swirling through my mind faster and faster-- though few of them seemed to be based in reality. All quick flashes of her looking… different. Some older, some younger. Her mane in different styles. Even just in different places, places I couldn’t recognize in the least. “Holy shit!” I shot up in bed. Vinyl dropped her book. “What?!” “Our gig!” I yelled. “We missed our gig!” Vinyl chuckled. “Sure did, champ.”