//------------------------------//
// The Class Know-It-All 
// Story: Harmony's Thieves 
// by 4428Gamer 
//------------------------------//


??? POV




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I woke up the same way I did nearly every time, with my face buried in my arms that were covered in drool. I was not a restless sleeper but I was definitely a messy sleeper.

Through the drool I was able to figure out that I was sleeping at some sort of desk. It was wooden and had dozens of papers all over it. Not my desk, I realized with a yawn. I know from experience not to put papers where they’ll drown.

With the reluctance of a Saturday morning, I peeled off of the desk and let myself fall into the back of this chair I was in. My vision flung towards the roof and I felt my back and legs howl in pain from soreness.

Without even looking at the chair or the desk I could tell they were both incredibly low to the ground. You could replace the chair with a stiff couch cushion and you wouldn’t lose any height. Thanks to that, my legs were bent at these awkward angles under the foot space of the desk.

I took a second to finally start getting my bearings. I was lucky, or unlucky, enough to have fallen asleep with my glasses on my face. When I realized they were crooked I straightened them out with an arm that still had a piece of drool-drenched paper stuck to it.

Ewwwwww, I groaned internally, quickly shedding the page and throwing it off to the side. If ever I needed a morning shower.

The last thing I ended up doing was tending to my cheek. I was rolling my jaw and holding my hand to it but the aching feeling in it was still there.

Hold on. My cheek is sore. I furrowed my brow. It was the same ache that was around my glasses, where they were pushed into my face from sleeping on them. But the only way my cheek would hurt like this is…

I moved my wrist forward so I could look at it. Greeting me was my giant, bulky, swiss army knife of a watch that was proudly ticking away.

I never slept with my watch on. I quite literally made it a habit to take it off whenever I sat down somewhere with a table. Mostly so I didn’t have a stupid watch-print on my cheek if I ever passed out. So why was it there, spit-shined from me sleeping?

I started checking what I had on me. I was in regular street clothes, jeans, shoes, a loose leather jacket, and they didn’t seem dirty or like I’ve worn them several days over.

Moreover, I had the usual things I always tucked away in my pockets. My phone, a wallet, car keys, pocket knife, and a deck of cards. The cards might have seemed out of place but I always had a deck with me. It was something to mess around with if I was bored. It was another habit of mine.

When I was satisfied checking my own person I took a look around me. I was indoors with a room that had windows on every wall except behind me. There were two doors that both led outside. One was to my left and the other was opposite of the room with five rows of five small student desks standing in the way.

Well, I’m only assuming student desks, I noted. Probably because of the school-supplies, the odd satchels lying beside some of them, and the sleeping child in the center desk.

I furrowed my brow. Hmm. I’m not alone.

The kid seemed like an even worse sleeper than I was if I could be honest. The giant doll-red hair draped over them was like a veil with an equally giant pink bow trying its best to hold as much of it together as it could.

Then, peeking out from under the hair was a single arm hanging over the side of her desk. It almost seemed to sway in time with the obnoxious snoring of a young girl.

Well, assuming girl, I reminded myself. With that arm and the sound of her snoring I almost want to put money on it. I have been wrong though, rare as that is.

“How did I not hear her snoring until now?” I spoke quietly.

I finished checking the rest of the room first. Behind me was a chalkboard that only covered a third of the entire wall with an oversized frame around the edges. And the bottom of the frame wasn’t even wide enough to set an eraser down on. The teacher was simply forced to put the erasers on the desk.

Speaking of the teacher’s desk, there was a collection of stuff there too. Aside from my drool, there was plenty of paper and a—

I suddenly wanted as far from that desk as possible. Ignoring the short chair falling away, I was up and a good four feet from the source of the now most revolting thing in the room.

An apple. An apple so rotten— so bad —it had turned into mush and hardened after it started dripping down the side of the desk. It looked like a candle left out in the sun for too long. Only the apple smelled like a dumpster so acidic it would sink into the ground and form its own cesspool.

What made it more disturbing was the thin layer of dust and strands of hair that gathered on it.

I shuddered and made a focused effort to start breathing through my mouth. Suddenly the drool on my chin doesn’t seem so disgusting to me.

I doubled my attention back to the child. No response. I wasn’t even trying to be quiet about the apple either.

As I took one step towards the girl I noticed one final thing about the room I was in; the floor. Rather than be carpeted or have hardwood flooring like I assumed, it was straw. Nothing but straw for the entire room. Even underneath the desks or counters along the walls it was all the same.

I bent down and swept the straw to the sides to see what was underneath. When I got my answer I leaned away.

“Dirt?” I questioned. “There’s no floor. Only dirt.”

I stood back up and collected my thoughts.

So I woke up in a small building, I declared to myself. It seems like some sort of school setting with windows on all sides save for the blackboard wall. Since the doors both lead outside it’s a good chance that I’m in some sort of classroom portable or a schoolhouse. But again, there’s no floor.

I glanced out one of the windows for a moment. There was a playground out there. None of it looked in disarray.

Definitely a school setting. But with the floor...It feels like I‘m in a barn. Even more so with the exposed trusses along the ceiling.

I turned to study the chalkboard. On it were notes that talked about grammar and vocabulary for English. It was typical notes you would find for the late middle school-early high school level student. The examples and phrasing seemed somewhat childish though. Perhaps an advanced class? Or a childish teacher? Maybe one kid needed a simpler example. I didn’t know enough to answer.

Whatever it is, I forced myself back to thinking. It proves it’s a school of some sort. Also, wherever I am, it’s somewhere that speaks English. Scheisse.

I wanted to find one more thing before I came to any conclusion. So, preparing my stomach, I walked back to the teacher’s desk and tried to ignore the rotten, fuzzy candle-apple.

When I got there, I tried looking through the papers. Most of it was homework, graded tests and random paperwork. All of it in English, which again confirmed that theory.

There were drawings mixed in with the papers as well. Mostly of colorful horses. In fact, all of them had colorful horses. Nearly all of them were a drawing of one that was magenta with a light pink tail.

Judging by the artwork I was almost positive that this was an advanced class of children. Or there were several terrible artists fixated on purple horses.

By the time I started searching the drawers and cabinet of the desk I finally found something useful; a planner. It was small and written on the cover in ink was the word ‘Cheerilee’ as well as a stamp of a smiling flower.

Good, I smiled. Planners have schedules. And schedules can tell you a lot about the person as well as the things around them. It might even have a location or address somewhere. Possibly a zip code.

I opened the planner and was immediately greeted by the first month: June.

I frowned. Alright. Interesting planner. Maybe they set it up like that for...some reason? Whatever.

The months still followed the same order but their was something else. Every month had exactly 30 days. The months and days weren’t written in by this person. This was how the planner was designed. The ones who made the planner did this.

I grunted. “Not important,” I muttered. I didn’t want the date. I needed information.

…

...Only. Now that I was thinking about it, what was the date?

My bulky watch had an answer. It had both the time and the day visible on the face. It said it was 3:27 PM and the 17th of the month. The last thing I remember was reading a book on my porch somewhere around five o’clock on. On...

I don’t remember the day.

I don’t even remember what month it is.

A chill went down my spine.

I wanted to say I remember reading that book on the 16th. That would make sense. If I was reading at 5 PM and my watch was now reading 3 PM, logic dictates it has been 22 hours.

Then why does the 16th sound so wrong? I felt almost driven to say that I didn’t read that book on the 16th but that doesn’t narrow anything down.

That book? Hold on. Why don't I remember the name of the book? I bit the inside of my lip. It's the last thing that I remember doing, how's come I can't remember the book?

“Okay. Forget the planner.” I closed it and tossed it back on the desk. “I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what day it— my phone!”

I wedged my fist down my jacket pocket and fished the thing out, tapping the button in the process. Then tapping it again. And a third time.

It was dead.

“Verdammt!” I tightened the grip on my phone before I had the chance to throw it. A broken phone was even more useless than a dead one.

As I stuffed the phone back down its pocket, I did one last sweep of the desk for anything else valuable while I calmed down.

And then I saw it.

Set down on the corner of the desk were a couple of picture frames. Unsurprisingly, the teacher had a couple of pictures with different groups of classes.

But all of them were ponies.

I frowned.

Ponies again? Is this some kind of gimmick?

I looked at all of them. The only constant in each picture was the building in the background that appeared to be a schoolhouse. The same schoolhouse that I was currently in as far as the double door and windows proved.

That magenta-colored pony from the drawings was also there but this time it didn’t seem like it was a drawing. Something about it seemed...Realistic.

I picked one up to look closer. To see if I could spot a watermark or signature, something to help me decide if it was real or not. There weren’t any. There were not any clear signs that it was a professional artist’s work either. No flaws or stray brush strokes of any kind.

Then I actually started looking at the picture. The magenta pony was much taller than the other ponies in the picture. Makes sense if I assume her to be the teacher, I thought. Although, some of the smaller ponies would also have wings on their sides or horns on their heads. Many of them also had odd brand marks on their hindlegs.

The magenta one has markings too. They look like flowers.

I paused to glance at the small planner on the desk. And I’ll bet money that each flower has a smile on it. Ms. Cheerilee, I presumed.

While I continued studying the picture, one of the smaller ponies stood out to me. Its face was rounder, like some of the feminine looking small ponies, and it had this giant doll-red hair with an equally giant. Pink. Bow.

I looked back towards the desks and at the girl. It appeared that she had been in the process of waking up not too long ago. Probably from me screaming at my phone. As her face was underneath her wad of red hair, I saw hands trying to make contact with her face.

On the back of both hands I could see this odd emblem. It was made up of reds and purples and was in the shape of a coat of arms. There was another image within that but I couldn’t make it out with the distance I was at.

“UghHhhhhHh,” she groaned. “Why’s mah muzzle feel all numb?”

Muzzle? I blinked. Then glanced back at the picture.

“An...huh?” She stopped moving for a second. Then I watched her finger curl a little. “Wha. H-Huh?” Her hands started to frantically push the hair from her face until she could see her hands.

“U...Uh.” She just kept staring at her hands. Like they were foreign to her.

...No, I pleaded. Please don’t tell me she...No!

“What. What happened ta my...” She watched as she slowly curled her fingers and slowly uncurled them. Then she leaned back. Enough for me to see her eyes.

Amber! I darted back to the picture in my hands. The girl had amber eyes there too.

No. She cannot be serious, can she? I glanced back at the girl. With the fear and confusion in her eyes, there was no way she was faking it. Is she delusional?

Her amber eyes turned at me.

By instinct alone I leaned back from her. Whatever her response would be, it would be nothing but confusion or anger.

I prayed for confusion.

“Hold on. It is okay,” I spoke calmly and softly. Her shock didn’t disappear but I could see her gasp.

“Before anything else,” I went on. Calmly. Slowly. “You need to know something very important.” I slowly set the picture frame back on the desk. I was acting as if the girl was a rabid animal with my slow movements.

Like I expected, her shocked expression froze. Right now, her mind was shaking with hundreds of different questions and after what I said, half of them were now clinging to this ‘very important’ thing I only now made up.

It was faint, but I could see that part of her expression was now pleading for this piece of information. As though this single one thing I was about to say would answer all of her questions and her mind would be put at ease.

I instead said nothing, turned to my left, and proceeded to quickly walk for the door beside me.

“Ah. Wh...Wuh-Wait. Hey!” She shouted as I opened the door. “Hold on! Ya can’t jus’—”

But I did ‘jus’. I ‘jus’ walked through the door, stood outside and looked upwards ‘jus’ enough to see the enormous, terrifying purple dome that rose up somewhere beyond the trees from every direction to encompass this schoolhouse as well as everything in what was probably a 20+ mile radius from the center of the dome.

“...”

I sullenly shut the door to block the shouted child’s voice and her view from me. Then, when I was sure that she couldn’t see me from the windows, I leaned against the wall of the building and slid to the ground until my knees were parallel with my shoulders.

“...Holy crap...”