The process prospective parents went through was, unsurprisingly, thorough; there was a background check, mandatory parenting classes and then surprise home visits for at least a year. A further look at Canterlot’s records showed Twilight,despite her misgivings, the success rate was fairly high. The rigorous application process assured that prospective parents were prepared for a challenge. And though Twilight didn’t love the registry, she wasn’t sure randomly placing foals was a better system. Lastly she was forced to confront the fact that Scotoaloo was, by most accounts, an anomaly. Orphans were rare in Equestria, even in tragic circumstances extended family assumed caregiving responsibility. In the unlikely event that there was no family who could be primary caregivers, there was no shortage of ponies looking to adopt. Sometimes it was for medical reasons, sometimes it was simply out of the kindness of their hearts, but either way the system worked.
Twilight slumped back in her chair. In the back recess of her mind, in one of the few uncharitable dark corners, Twilight wished the system didn’t work. A broken system could be fixed, finding weak spots in processes, creating new organizational structures, Twilight knew how to do those things. Repairing relationships between ponies, mediating friendship disputes, Twilight knew how to do those things too. And if this was a big ugly monster, or scary demon or a pony under the influence of a malevolent ancient artifact, she had always been able to find solutions for those sorts of things as well.
But family? Family problems were a bit of a blind spot for Twilight. She had a family, they were kind and loving and even though they didn’t always agree, and even if she could be competitive with her brother, there was never any doubt that they were family and that would never change. So as she trudged home, she was forced to admit that her idea to reform Equestria’s adoption protocol was an over-reaction.
Sweetie Belle won Scrabble, she always did, it was one of the reasons the crusaders didn’t play it very often. But Scootaloo wasn’t thinking about that as she walked back to the library/castle. As she often did, her thoughts shifted to what opportunities to better her position existed at this exact moment. It was too early to dumpster dive, and too late to visit Sturdy or the Apples for a day job. But it was approaching dinnertime and that meant restaurants were preparing for a dinner rush. The high turnover and frequency of call outs at restaurants meant lots of opportunities to jump onto a staff for an evening. She wasn’t old enough to be a server, but depending on who the manager at Olive’s was that night sometimes she could be a busgirl. If not, all of her usual stops would let her be a dishwasher. She prefered busgirl, the servers usually were more generous splitting their tips and there were more opportunities to sneak a bite from the occasional uneaten entree.
Despite it being a bit early, Olive’s was already drawing a crowd. Scootaloo went around back and knocked on the door. It was answered by a black pony named Midnight. He usually let Scootaloo on staff, but was a bit stricter than some of the other managers, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and Scootallo didn’t feel like trying her hoof elsewhere.
“Need a busgirl tonite?” she asked with a practiced smile, she hoped came off as carefree and not desperate.
Midnight studied her with a glare Scootaloo was used too, but still found unnerving. Eventually he spoke. “Well we are a bit short staffed, seems like half my staff wanted the night off. Your folks know you’ll be home late?”
“Yeah, they’ve got some kind of work dinner.” Work related absences were some of Scootaloo’s favorite lies to employ, believable, mundane and inviting absolutely no follow up questions.
“Well, I’ve got no idea why you’d want to waste a perfectly good free night, but I’m not going to look a gift dog in the mouth. You know where the aprons are, and I’ll have you bus section 3, Millie’s serving that section tonight.”
Finally a bit of luck, Scootaloo thought. Mille was easy to work with, generous with her tips and most importantly she almost always gave Scootaloo a take-away box at the end of the night.
All things considered, Scootaloo prefered working at Sturdy’s to busing tables. Whenever she saw her classmates, she had to be extra careful to avoid them. Fortunately for her no one ever paid much attention to a pony in an apron picking up dirty dishes a few tables away. But even without any subterfuge busing tables was exhausting. It was near eleven when she finally made it back to the library, with a box of spaghetti and 12 bits. Had she gone back to her basement, she would have eaten her dinner and promptly collapsed into her cardboard. Opening the door she found Twilight behind the reception desk, neatly ordered piles of papers on either side of her.
“You’re back, I was worried,” Twilight said, trying to keep her tone shy of judgemental.
“Why?”
“Cause it’s late.”
“No it’s not, this is what time I get back on most days.”
“It’s nearly midnight.” Twilight paused. “This is normal for you?”
Scootaloo nodded. “Gotta do closing stuff.”
“Closing stuff?”
“Yeah, they let me bus tables as Olive’s sometimes. But after ponies leave, things need to be cleaned, chairs need to be put away. That kind of thing.”.
“You don’t have to take odd jobs. I’m not going to start making you pay for meals.”
“Sure, but I can’t stay here forever, then what?”
“I promise I’ll find you a home Scootaloo. Somewhere you don’t have to worry about paying for your own food.”
“But you can’t know that!” Scootaloo grew quiet. “I’m not even sure I want to be adopted.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t mind taking odd jobs, sure I’d like it if things were easier, but I like that my stuff is mine. Maybe not everyone needs to have the same type of home.”
“Well no, but everypony needs a home somewhere.”
Scootaloo sighed, unwilling to engage with this particular argument again. “Maybe mine is by myself.” Neither pony said anything as an oppressive silence hung in the air. “Can I go to bed?”