“That’s it, time’s up.” Nick says when the song finishes, ending on a soothing note of dripping water.
He lightly taps Jess on the head and she jumps awake. She leans back up, stretching and yawning into effect.
“That was nice.” She says during her yawn. “It’s been a long time since we’ve done that.”
“Yep.” Nick confirms, switching off his music player.
He wraps his headphones around it and places it back in his pocket. Immediately he hears a whooshing sound occurring every few seconds and scans to the sky to notice Rainbow Dash flying around the university in a blur. He raises a hand and shouts her name as she passes overhead. He knows she heard him because he saw her slow down and glance over her shoulder, so waits for her to retrack. What occurred next happened within a matter of seconds.
She flies straight upwards, high into the sky and grabs a piece of cloud. With the cloud in her outstretched hooves, she falls back to the ground and holds the cloud in the fountain. The cloud soaks up the water like a sponge, turning dark, and she returns to Nick. She places the dark cloud hovering a few feet above him and lands on top of it. She then proceeds to bounce on the cloud as if it were a trampoline, releasing the water trapped inside. The water falls like rain in a thunderstorm and drenches Nick as well as the bench. Jess quickly floats backwards narrowly avoiding the shower while Nick sits there expressionless as his clothes soak up the water like a dishcloth.
After the rain had ceased, an unamused Nick sighs and he rubs his dripping forehead with his dripping hands. Jess laughs hysterically, rolling on her back as she floats in the air. Nick glares at her as Rainbow Dash kicks the cloud back into the sky before performing a backward somersault and landing on the ground in front of him. She stares at him as he rubs the water from his eyes.
“Was there any need for that?” Nick tells Rainbow Dash.
“Yes.” She scowls. “What do you want?”
“Well,” he starts, standing up, “I did want to know how Fluttershy was doing since we last met,” he lifts a leg and shakes it in front of him, shaking off some of the water clinging to it, “but considering she’s friends with you, I can’t imagine her faring well.”
“I don’t have to take that from you!”
She turns to the side and forcefully kicks his knee with her back leg.
“Ow, ow, ow!” He cries out in pain, rubbing his soaking leg and hopping on one foot, his shoes squelching. Jess laughs even harder at his agony. “That hurt!”
“Please, stop!” Jess cries, “I can’t breathe!”
“Good.” Rainbow Dash sneers. “It was supposed to. And for your information, Fluttershy’s doing just fine without your concern.”
“That’s good to hear.” Nick grumbles still rubbing his leg. “Those bullies staying away from her?”
“They better if they know what’s good for them.”
“Now play nice, Dashie.” Says a familiar voice from behind Rainbow Dash. Nick looks up as Rainbow Dash turns around to find Rarity walking towards them under a small, handheld parasol being held aloft by her magic. “Ugh, this heat is really getting to me.” She says, pulling her sparkling sunshades below her line of sight. “I could really go for a cup of iced tea right about now.”
“You could always ask Rainbow Dash to shower you with a raincloud to cool you down. Ow!” She kicks him again in his other knee. “For Danu’s sake, stop kicking me!” He says, rubbing his other leg.
“Is that why you’re all wet?” She asks as she examines him.
“He started it.” Rainbow Dash huffs.
“I called your name,” Nick insists, “how is that starting anything?” He jumps back in fear of being kicked again.
“Knock it off, you two.” Rarity shouts at them before Rainbow Dash could react. “Why don’t we all sit down in the park and drink a nice cold drink and cool off for a bit?”
“I’d love to, but I’ve a class to get to.” Nick answers.
“I can’t, I need to practice.” Rainbow Dash tells her. “Maybe later.”
“Oh, you and your practices.” Rarity puffs. “Why don’t you take a break and relax for a bit?”
“Practice? You call flying around the building practice?”
“Hey!” She shouts, turning to him. “I gotta be in tip top shape to impress the Wonderbolts when they perform next month.” She says, pepping herself up. “I’m gonna perform for them and show them what I’m capable of. They'll be begging me to join their band when they see the stunts I pull off!”
“The Wonderbolts band?” Nick asks, inquisitively. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“That’s typical coming from an uneducated human like you.” She jeers.
“Hey!”
“The Wonderbolts are only THE best flyers in all of America!” She proudly proclaims, unconcerned for Nick’s thoughts. “Did you know they flew the entire eastern coastline in less than a day.” She adds, exciting herself. “Or performed an air show for the crowning of Princess Cadence. And performed as the opening act for Countess Coloratura during the 2209 Summer PopFest.”
“I’ve heard of Countess Coloratura, but not of the Wonderbolts.” Nick says, intrigued by her knowledge for such a group.
“Hmph, typical of someone like you.” She mocks. Nick rolls his eyes as she turns to Rarity and says, “I think I will join you for that drink.” before turning and walking towards the back of the university.
Rarity asks Nick, “Are you sure you won’t join us?”
“Nah,” He says, smiling amusingly, “I don’t think she’ll allow me. Besides, I do actually have a class to attend." He says, clearly taking one last stab at Rainbow Dash. "Another time, perhaps.”
“Oh, okay.” She says, looking disappointed. “See you later, then.” She walks away, her parasol floating behind her and follows Rainbow Dash towards the park.
Nick gives her a sharp flick of the hand goodbye and catches Jess’s beaming face.
“That was hilarious.” She says with a giggle.
“No, it wasn’t.” He says in a deadpan tone, turning and walking away.
She jumps up and hovers beside him. “I think you should see her more often.”
“I don’t think so. Now I have to change into a dry uniform.”
They make their way to the university’s main entrance and enter the reception. A new receptionist was sitting in Victoria’s place, her head resting in her hand as she stares lifelessly out of the open doors envying the sunny day. She obviously noticed Nick when he walked through the doors and quickly covered her mouth with the back of her hand trying to hide her giggles. He notices her movements and his cheeks burn red with embarrassment.
“What’s first?” Jess asks as Nick marches past the reception.
“First,” He sharply says, “I need to change out of these clothes.”
“And after that?”
He shrugs and heads through the doors leading to the inner courtyard. The courtyard was alive with the sound of noisy students echoing throughout, all swishing and swaying past each other trying to make their way to class. He rushes his way through the crowd while they try to avoid his soaking clothes and enters onto the corridor where his room resides. The corridor was also full of students walking the opposite way he was, towards the courtyard, with few flowing against the current. He makes his way to the door of his room and uses the thumb recognition to open it and lets himself in. He closes the door with a click behind him and the noise from the corridor is immediately silenced. He heads for the bedroom while removing his shirt.
“Ah, home sweet home.” Jess remarks after phasing through the closed door, twirling around with her arms outspread.
Nick grins as he opens the door to the bedroom and enters. He throws his shirt in the laundry basket at the bottom of his bed and kicks off his shoes. He opens the door to his closet and removes a uniformed shirt and trousers from the hangers, throwing them onto the bed. He takes out his music player from his pocket and places it on the bedside table. He then proceeds to undo the belt from his bottoms and throws it onto the clothes spread out on the bed. He begins removing his bottoms, during which a wolf whistle sounds in the doorway.
“Take a good look, this is the only ass you’ll ever see.” Nick calls as he wiggles his butt.
“The ass or the ass’s ass?” She responds, giggling.
He chuckles as he throws his bottoms into the basket and grabs the fresh trousers and pulls them on, buttoning them up. He throws on the shirt and ties the belt around his waist before patting himself down.
“There, that feels better.”
He sits on his bed near the pillows and opens the drawer of the bedside table. Within the drawer sits the device Norma had given him on his first day. He removes the device, placing his music player in its place, and turns it on. It flashes briefly and dings before showing the desktop. He taps the schedule icon and a chart showing his weekly classes pop up. Holding it at a suitable distance, he checks his first lesson.
“What’s first?” Jess asks, still hovering in the doorway.
“Well the chart says Symphonic English.” He says sarcastically, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow. Her cheeks puff up and she glares at him.
Symphonic English is from what he understands is the given name of the language of symphonic music produced by an orchestral group. He taps the slot and information of the class pops up. All he needs to know is its location, so he taps the room number M23 and the map slides onto the screen. The map shows the first floor of the northern wing on the left-hand side. One of the rooms flashes red to indicate which room the class is taking place in.
He taps the back button and beckons Jess over with a wave of his hand. “Have you seen this?” He asks, holding the device to her.
She floats closer and leans in. “What about it?”
“I only enrolled for an apprenticeship. They have me attending lessons I don’t even care about. I didn’t sign up for this!”
“Ah, I see.” She says, taking a better look at the schedule. “So, what is Symphonic English?”
“Music’s language, which I suppose isn’t that bad.” He explains. “It’s at least one of the few classes somewhat related to the reason for my being here.”
“Hah!” She laughs, prodding he device. “You also got advanced drama afterward. I can imagine you being on stage in a play.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He withdraws the device and turns it off with a beep. He puts on a posh British accent and holds his arms in an operatic position with the device resting on his open palm, saying, “I, madam, am one of the greatest living actors of modern society.” He places the device back in the drawer and closes it. “Well, no point making fun of it. Best get going. I’ll see you later.”
“Uh-huh.” She giggles, floating out of the room.
Nick follows, closing the door behind him. She sits on the sofa and pulls her feet into a laying position as Nick exits his apartment. He closes the door behind him, making sure it locked, and makes his way back into the courtyard, where a few stragglers were making their way out. He makes his way to the staircase and ascends it to the first floor and heads through the doors into the western corridor of the northern wing.
Along the corridor were lines of students, some with their teachers at the front, waiting to enter their classroom. They were younger students, a mix of both races most likely in their first year, and were blocking doors to the other rooms. He makes his way down the corridor and reaches his classroom, also being blocked by a line of students. He excuses himself as he squeezes past and opens the door with a twist.
He is immediately greeted by the activation of an old-fashioned wooden cuckoo clock hanging above the projection screen at the front of the room.
“You’re lucky!” One of the students says as he takes a step inside. The light blue unicorn was sitting on a desk in the middle of a conversation with a dark grey coated pony, wearing a white collar fastened with a pink bowtie, seated on the table’s chair. “Another minute and you’d’ve been locked out!”
“Huh?”
Nick closes the door and immediately the sound of locks was heard from it. He stares confusingly at the unicorn who laughs at his expression. He enters the room making his way towards her.
The room was layered with tables and chairs in rows of three leading to the back, all facing the front. A bookcase occupies the corner at the front with a projector machine in the other corner. At the back of the room sits an old-fashioned blackboard on wheels with a highly detailed drawing of a band playing at a concert hall complete with audience under the title “SYMPHONIC ENGLISH” covering the entire blackboard. Otherwise, the walls were bear; with next to no decoration on them, the baby blue wallpaper cried out for something, anything, to accompany it.
“Hey,” He says, holding out a hand, “name’s Nick.”
“Lyra.” She says, holding out a hoof for him to take. He grabs it and shakes it. “And this is Octavia.”
“Good morning.” She elegantly greets, holding out her hoof which he shakes. Her British accent giving a clear indication of an upper-class.
As he’s shaking, he glances at their Cutie Marks. The unicorn’s he recognises as a golden lyre, and immediately remembers that he’d walked past her before. The regular pony’s is a purple coloured treble clef most commonly used in simplistic sheet music.
“Pleasure to meet you both.” He says with a grin. He releases her hoof, leans on the table across from them and adds, “So, the teacher’s really that strict, huh?”
He hears his name being mentioned and looks over to a small group of three humans and a pony standing around a table a few tables away from where Lyra and Octavia were sitting. Every so often one of them would glance over to Nick, catching their curious eye.
“You have no idea.” Octavia answers.
“But he’s a decent teacher despite that.” Lyra continues. “He’s taught me lots of important information in the past, new techniques I’d have never even thought of if it weren’t for him.”
“I don’t like him.” Octavia interrupts. “I think he’s full of himself. And he hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you, Octavia.”
“Did you see how he humiliated me in front of the class?”
“He was just seeing how well you played your cello.”
“You’re just defending him because he praises you more than anyone else.”
She rubs the back of her neck. “Really?” She says, her cheeks turning peachy. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You play cello?” Nick asks, entering the conversation.
“Yes.” She answers.
“And I play a lyre.” Lyra boasts.
“Electric or acoustic?”
“Acoustic.” Both answer simultaneously
“I didn’t know there was an electric lyre.” Lyra says.
“Yeah,” Octavia confirms, “but it doesn’t sound as good as acoustic.”
“I don’t know,” Nick says, “I think electric sounds just as great.”
“You sound just like my sister.” Octavia smiles.
Before Nick could ask about her sister, the bookshelf in the corner slides open with a grind, revealing a hidden passage in the wall. Immediately the class’s teacher appears from the passage as his white lab coat follows, flowing behind him. He stands behind the counter between the board and the desks and faces his pupils.
“To your seats, everyone!” He orders, stroking his moustache with his thumb. His thick accent clearly indicating his Alaskan descent. “Class has begun!”
The two groups rush to their individual seats behind their desks. The scraping sound of the chairs being dragged fills the classroom for a quick moment before falling back to silence. Nick is left standing out in the open while everyone finds their seats.
Octavia leans in and whispers, “Psst, sit down.”
“And you,” He calls before he’s given time to make a move, glaring at him, leaning on the counter, “must be Nicholas Galluver.”
“Gal-you-ver, sir.”
“Are you going to tell me why you weren’t here yesterday?”
Nick shrugs passively. “It wasn’t in my schedule.”
“Don’t make excuses, young man! I know you were absent and why.”
“But, sir, I…”
“Don’t talk back to me!” He says, pointing a finger at him.
“For God’s sake, just stay quiet.” A whisper was heard from among the group.
“Ngh!”
“See me after class, Nicholas.” He says, standing back straight. “I want a word with you.”
“But I…!” He starts but a sharp, menacing squint from the teacher forces him to decide otherwise. He bites his tongue to prevent himself from speaking out. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s what I thought. Now sit down!”
Nick looks around to find an empty seat at Octavia’s side near the window. He walks over and sits himself down, sighing in despair as he does so. He understands what Octavia meant when she said how strict he was.
“That’s right…” He says under his breath before addressing the class. “As a recap for those who missed yesterday’s introduction,” He begins, clearly indicating Nick as he slowly paces back and forth behind a counter, “my name is Mr Reeds, and as such you will address me as Mr Reeds only. I will be your teacher for this lesson of Symphonic English. What I will teach you is the most advanced knowledge any of you could ever hope to learn from an orchestrated band. Mika, Nicholas, understand?”
“Yes, Mr Reeds.” Mika immediately responds with Nick following suit. He glances over to Mika, a short boy whose greasy black hair looked like it hadn’t felt a drop of water in over a month. His thick spectacles give his indigo tinted eyes vision.
“Good!” He says, walking over to the projector in the corner. “Now, before we waste any more of my valuable time, let’s begin the lesson.” He adds, wheeling the machine out of the corner.
One of the students could be heard gasping in excitement behind the squeaky projector wheels. He aligns the machine in front of the screen and switches it on. It coughs and spurts into life as its gears could be heard churning away.
“I’m going to show you a simple symphony of fifty pieces.” Reeds says as he turns and heads over to the bookshelf. “Just as an idea for what is expected of one.”
Realising the passage was still open, he throws his arms up in anger and forces the bookshelf shut with a slam. He fiddles with the books before pulling one out and opening it up. He flicks the pages, stops on one and removes a compact disc from its pages. He places the book back on the shelf and sticks the cd into the projector, closes the lid and unscrews the lense protector.
The projector projects on the screen an introduction before a small orchestra ensembles on a stage. Once settled, they begin the overture from a late twenty-first century piece titled Joker’s Accompaniment. As they play, Reeds points out what would be interesting facts about each instrument and their importance in the piece had Nick not known these already. But still he listens intently in case new information he could utilise was mentioned.
As Nick listens to the band play, he notices a familiar face playing an upright bass on the far left-hand side. As soon as he recognises who it resembles, Reeds points himself out as the bassist and tells the group to keep an eye on his performance.
As the group stare with anticipation, Reeds as well, a piece of paper neatly folded floats through the air and lands on Nick's desk. He quickly grabs it and hides it in his palm. He glances up to find Reeds still fixated on the screen before discreetly unfolding it. The piece of paper held a handwritten note, stating, ‘Sorry, he’s not usually that harsh’, signed with a patterned heart in the corner.
He hides the note back in his palm and wonders who wrote it. He discreetly looks around the class and makes eye contact with lyra, who grins warmly at him. He shows his appreciation by smirking back and showing a thumbs up. Her grin widens slightly and she faces back to the front. Nick does the same and rests his head in the palm of his hand for the rest of the video.