“Bull-fucking-shit,” Button Mash snapped. “No way in Equestria the best grandparents in the world just fall in your lap. Besides,” he said, with a haughty sniff, “my Meemaw’s got that title on lockdown.”
“Stuff it, Button,” Rumble said in a warning voice. “And tone down the swearing, will ya? It gets old after a while.”
Button Mash held his nose in the air. “I, for one, think it makes me sound mature and worldly.”
“And you’d be wrong,” Rumble retorted, taking a bite of his sandwich.
“C’mon, guys,” Scootaloo whined. “I wasn’t even done yet.”
“Yeah,” Apple Bloom cut in. “Let her have her say.”
The six of them—Scoots, Bloom, Sweetie, Rumble, Button, and Featherweight—were all gathered around one of the wooden picnic tables in the schoolyard. Each of them had their lunches open in front of them, ranging from Scootaloo’s packaged Pegasusables, to Apple Bloom’s PB-and-apple-butter sandwich with sliced apples on the side, to Button Mash’s lunch which, as far as anyone could tell, consisted entirely of cheesy puffs and a can of Celesti-cola.
Perhaps it was because of the news that Scootaloo had to share, but it seemed that no one was sitting in their right spots anymore. Scootaloo sat on the end of one of the benches, with Rumble sitting to her left, and Apple Bloom sitting to his left. They’d barely said a word to each other all lunch, but at least they weren’t fighting. Maybe they’d finally managed to bury the hatchet--and someplace other than the middle of each other’s back this time. Button sat across from Rumble, with Sweetie scooched a little too close to his right side. Featherweight took the last spot, on Button’s left, but he had been taking full advantage of the relative privacy to sneak surreptitious glances at Apple Bloom. It had been far too long since they’d been able to get together like this: all six of them, in once place, with no arguments to be had, and a smile on every face.
Well, except for Button’s. He’d finally shut his trap, but he was still scowling at Rumble. But then again, that’s just how he was most of the time.
Scootaloo gave a heavy sigh. “As I was saying,” she said, “I’m pretty sure they're the best grandparents ever. I mean, I guess I was expecting they’d be something like Mrs. Harbour, who’s a little more… quiet?”
Apple Bloom snorted into her sandwich, then covered it with a cough. Scootaloo shot her a look.
“There’s nothin’ wrong with quiet,” she insisted. “Can actually be kinda nice, sometimes. But Windy and Bow were—” she blew out a low whistle. “As soon as they figured out who I was, they were so excited. They ran around making sure I was comfortable, asked me about school, and the Crusaders, and everything! And, when they pulled out the board games—” She shook her head, eyes wide. “Windy almost gave me a black eye when we were playing Pit!”
Button laughed, but Sweetie frowned.
“Pit?” she asked. “Isn’t that like poker…?”
“Nah,” Rumble interrupted. “It’s like Go Fish.”
“But with more yelling,” Scootaloo added. “Bow must have a massive pair of lungs, the way he screamed. Probably from all the Wonderbolts matches…”
Apple Bloom leaned forward, looking across Rumble to Scootaloo. “Why d’ya keep callin’ ‘em that?” she asked.
“Calling them what?” Scootaloo asked.
“Windy ‘n’ Bow,” she replied. “Why don’t ya call ‘em Granny ‘n’ Grandpa or something?”
“Nana and Pops?” suggested Featherweight.
“Or Papa and Mimi?” Button interjected.
“I dunno,” Scootaloo said with a shrug. “We didn’t really talk about it. Just thought they might want me to call them by their proper names…”
“Maybe,” Sweetie Belle admitted, “but you should still talk to ‘em. They might like a nickname like that.”
Scootaloo nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll ask them next time we go…”
Rumble’s ears perked up. “Next time?” he repeated. “You’re gonna go back up there?”
Scootaloo turned to him, confused. “Yeah,” she said carefully. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Rumble’s expression darkened. He opened his mouth—
Suddenly, the school bell rang out, it’s sudden bing-bong shattering the tension at the table. All six of them turned to look.
“Lunchtime is over!” cried Miss Cheerilee. “Come on back inside, everypony!”
All the little ponies at the table groaned, then started gathering their brown bags and lunch boxes. Apple Bloom was the first to slip off the bench, but she took her time walking back to the schoolhouse--at least until Featherweight caught up to her. Button Mash was next, and Sweetie Belle had to hurry after him. That left Rumble, sourly nibbling on the last of his carrot sticks, and Scootaloo, who regarded him through narrowed eyes.
“We got class,” Rumble muttered.
“Class can wait,” Scootaloo replied. “You want to tell me what in Equestria you have against grandparents?”
Rumble looked away. “Nothin’,” he said.
“Well what’s crawled up your ass, then?” she snapped. “Last I checked, where I go and who I see isn’t any of your business.”
Rumble’s scowl deepened. “It’s not your grandparents,” he insisted.
“Then who is it?”
He looked up at her, his eyes full of fire and tears.
“Her,” he snarled.
Scootaloo’s eyes widened, and she leaned back in her seat. Rumble held her gaze, then finally looked away. There was no sound in the still spring air, aside from the muffled sound of Cheerilee’s voice emanating from the schoolhouse.
“Rumble,” Scootaloo said, her voice deadly calm. “I am going to ask you a question. And I want you to answer it, seriously and honestly.”
Rumble looked up at her again, then gave a terse little nod. “Okay,” he said cautiously.
Scootaloo put her forehooves together and sat up straight.
“Rumble,” she said again, “what the fuck is your problem?”
He looked up, startled. “Huh?” he asked.
“Answer the question,” Scootaloo said coldly. “We’ve fought this fight like five times now, and, somehow, we’re still having it. So, I want you to tell me exactly why you can’t get over the fact that she’s in my life now, and I want you to tell me now.”
Rumble hesitated.
“I’m waiting,” Scootaloo prompted him.
Rumble shot her a surly look--but nevertheless, he began to speak.
“It… it’s not her,” she said. “Not really. Well, sorta, but—”
“But what?”
“I don’t trust her,” he admitted. “She… she’s such a flake. Do you know how much time she spends just napping, when she’s supposed to be doing her job?”
Scootaloo’s lip twitched the slightest bit. “And what does that have to do with me?”
“Well, she… she just keeps forgetting about you,” he said.
“Six months ago.”
“She did it three times,” Rumble snapped. “Your cutecinera, your birthday, and, oh yeah, Cloudsdale. You remember that time?” he asked sarcastically. “The one where I literally carried you home on my back?”
Scootaloo threw her head back and groaned in frustration. “Rum-ble,” she groused, “You know ponies can change and do better, right? You know they can regret things and make up for them, right? ”
“Yeah,” he admitted, “but has she? She’s still a jerk. And she keeps on doing all this dangerous, risky stuff. And she keeps bringing you to Cloudsdale, where you got stuck and almost froze to death. Remember that?” he snapped. “What happens next time, huh? The next time she forgets about you, and no one’s there to fly you home? Huh?”
Scootaloo stared silently at Rumble for a long time--long enough that his anger started to collapse in on itself, leaving behind only shame. He very nearly looked away--that is, until Scootaloo spoke.
“Rumble,” she said quietly. “I know you haven’t been around her very much recently. And I’m sorry for that. But Rainbow isn’t the same pony she was. You weren’t there on our ski trip. You didn’t see her almost freeze to death because I lost my scarf. The Rainbow who left me in Cloudsdale would never have done that for me.”
“But—”
Scootaloo continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “She’s been getting better, Rumble. She’s trying. And, believe it or not, she’s doing pretty damn good.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’m not done,” Scootaloo interrupted. “I want you to see something.”
Scootaloo reached into her saddlebags and pulled out a paperback copy of Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone, dog-eared and torn, a bookmark sticking out between the pages. Scootaloo grabbed the bookmark in her teeth, pulled it free, then passed it to Rumble, who took it quietly.
“What’s that?” Scootaloo asked.
He glanced at the bookmark. “It’s a ticket,” he mumbled.
“For what?”
He glanced at it again. “A zeppelin,” he said.
“C’mon, Rumble,” she groaned. “Work with me here.”
He snorted, then looked down at the ticket. As he read it, his face slowly fell.
“Rumble,” Scootaloo said, “she spent over a hundred bits on this last time we were in Cloudsdale. A way home, Rumble. Just in case anything went wrong. Which it didn’t,” she added. “She was super-careful this time.”
“That’s just one time, though—”
“Rumble.”
The chill in Scootaloo’s voice brought him up short.
“You know I like you. And you know we’ve kissed. And you know, when we get a little older, that I want to be your fillyfriend.”
Rumble swallowed, then nodded.
“All that said,” Scootaloo continued, “you are being an idiot. Rainbow is trying to change, but you’re not letting her. You’re so stuck on everything she’s done wrong that you’re not seeing everything she’s done right.”
Rumble opened his mouth, but Scootaloo held out her hoof.
“No,” she said. “I don’t want to hear it. If you want to be my friend--my coltfriend, even--you’re gonna need to figure out whatever kind of broken you are and fix it. You’re the only one in the world who still hates her, and I’m not going to put up with it anymore.”
Rumble’s eyes flashed. “So this is what I get,” he growled. “I break my back trying to stand up for you, and this is what I get. An ultimatum.”
Scootaloo frowned. “You’re trying to stand up for me?” she asked.
“No one else will,” Rumble replied. “And someone’s gotta look out for you. After all, you can’t—”
Rumble realized, a half-second too late, what he was about to say. He shut his mouth with a snap, and looked guiltily away.
“Rumble?” asked Scootaloo. “I can’t what?”
Rumble just closed his eyes.
“Were you going to say I can’t stand up for myself?” she asked quietly.
Rumble bit his lip, then gave the tiniest fraction of a nod.
“I didn’t mean it,” he added quickly.
“Yes you did,” Scootaloo said.
The two of them were quiet for a moment. Finally, Scootaloo spoke.
“Rumble,” she said, “it’s very sweet that you’re looking out for me. And I appreciate it, I really do.”
“But,” he supplied.
“But,” she repeated. “That’s not your responsibility. It’s mine. And now, it’s Rainbow’s.”
Rumble looked up, a faint panic in his eyes. “But, Scootaloo—”
“Rumble,” Scootaloo continued, “I like you a lot. And I appreciate everything you’ve done. But Rainbow’s my mother. I know you don’t like her, but you’re gonna have to meet me in the middle on this one.”
Rumble snarled, but the venom had gone out of him.
“Fine,” he huffed.
“Fine,” Scootaloo repeated.
After another moment’s silence, Scootaloo looked down at her Pegasusables and made a face.
“You want a cheese cracker?” she asked, pushing the plastic tray towards him. “I don’t like the cheese in the first place, and it’s gotten all warm…”
Before Rumble could answer, something sharp and strong clamped painfully down on his ear. He squealed, and, without thinking, he began flapping his wings frantically.
“You are fifteen minutes late for class, young colt,” said Miss Cheerilee, between the teeth she had bit down on his ear.
“Miss Cheerilee,” interjected Scootaloo, her voice jumping up an octave, “it’s all my fault, I—”
Cheerilee marched around the table, dragging a howling Rumble along with her. She opened her mouth again and bit down on Scootaloo’s ear as well--eliciting an earsplitting shriek--then dragged both of the young delinquents back towards the schoolhouse.
“You’re lucky today’s a review day,” she muttered to herself. “Otherwise, this would be worth a note home…”