The Runaway Bodyguard

by scifipony

Chapter  46 — Tripudioetcanticumomania

Was this what it felt to be a foal put in her place? It didn't feel like being admonished by Proper Step; that was pure resentment. This, though?

I was too young. Broomhill Dare was right.

Which was why I wasn't about to give up. When I found my gallop again, the mare was nowhere to be found.

I assumed proctoring a test couldn't take more than an hour or two. I didn't know what building, but I figured if I patrolled those nearby, I'd notice exiting students and follow that lead.

I wasn't sure what I was going to say. It didn't matter. I patrolled for a few hours until dark clouds gathered from the east and droplets began to fall. I didn't see any flux of student, nor lights go on in buildings.

I wanted to believe she had lied about test, but I knew better.

The sun on the horizon colored the bottom of the clouds orange. Thanks to my exercise today, despite and because of the intermittent showers and a lack of an umbrella or usable cloak, when I returned it home, I exuded a definite wet-dog smell. My stomach grumbled. I didn't know whether I wanted food or a bath more.

As I approached the front door, I found one of Steeple Chase's guards sitting on the covered porch at the entrance. The minty green mare wore a black denim jacket with a black blouse and plaid skirt.

I said, "Hello."

"You are late," the mare in black replied. Noting her eyes sweeping me, I checked my flank. Yep, lacquer is pretty waterproof.

I shrugged, walking up the steps. "Stuff kept me busy."

She stretched out a hoof, blocking me from the door. "You are late."

"I am."

"House rules. Don't arrive after curfew."

"Curfew? Like the time that good little fillies need to be snug in bed? Seriously?"

"That's the rules."

"Then you're saying you're not going to let me in?"

"You're a big filly now. I think you can figure that out."

I felt my breathing increase and my face warm. "Is everypony trying to treat me like a foal, today?"

The mare smiled wanly and lowered her leg. When I made to move, she put it up again and shook her head.

My eyes burned. I turned away as the porch light turned on, saving me from being seen with tears forming. I blinked for awhile, looking across the lawn as dusk came quickly. Wind thrashed the trees and with darkness came sheets of rain.

The brick porch was cold, but I lay down, trying to figure out to where my confidence had fled. Or my anger. If the guard stared at my cutie mark long enough, she might see the flaws, but I didn't care.

My stomach, cared. It growled after a half-hour. I looked up into her green eyes.

"Do you have any snacks?"

"South on the road, you'll find Squash Baking and B. B. Q's. Both open, next to Hotel 86."

I ended up offering her some copper bits and she gave me her bag of Frizzies malt-vinegar kale crisps. After a while, I told her I was going to use the bushes since she wasn't letting me inside. I got a shrug. Guess she wasn't the gardener. When I turned the corner, I realized my window was on the second floor at the furthest corner.

I could have fought my way through the front door, then fought guards inside. I might have won, and I doubt any would have been willing to injure one of the syndicate's assets. I didn't have the will at the moment to fight that fight. I couldn't think what it would prove.

Aloud, I said, "I'm enjoying my pity party, I guess."

I felt mellow and melancholy, not myself in other words, but sensed thoughts percolating deep inside. Emotions, memories, and aspirations began to blend, forming a hot tea that suddenly overflowed the cup.

I caught myself with a start. My voice rang back at me and I stilled my prancing hooves.

I. Had been. Singing. (And dancing.)

I shook myself and my mane out with a whinny. A quick scan of the side yard—bounded by cedars against a brick wall—showed that nopony guarded here, and the last half-hour had done little to make me suspect a patrol. I'd have put a pegasus on the roof. From where I stood, I could see anything on the shake roof beyond the gutters up to the ridge with the north-east pointing rooster weather vane. I saw naught.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead. No pony had seen that, Thank Celestia! I mean, really. I knew tripudioetcanticumomania was possible in any pony; I'd scoffed at it, having read songs in a novel where an entire village had been affected. But. Still.

"Embarrassing!" My jaw clacked shut when I realized I just sang that...

I do feel better.

Except for one thing...

I used a stand of maple trees next to a blank section of wall. It wasn't as if I hadn't dealt with such issues the months I'd walked across Equestria, and the weeks and weeks I spent homeless in various cities. Had I been fastidious or modest back in Grin Having? I'd certainly broken the habit.

I always took care of myself. And there was always tomorrow.

I walked up to my darkened window.

Minty was right. I could find a restaurant and a hotel, but I didn't want to. I spun up Teleport. I knew the layout of my room. The housekeeper put everything back in its place, no matter how I tried to redecorate. My vectors would be perfect.

The out-teleport rang loudly. I stood on my purple tweed carpet inside my room. The wardrobe, drawers, desk, and bed stood in their designated place, the latter with the silver satin sheet turned down and a chocolate on the pillow. I drew the curtains aside with a hoof and eyed the empty lawn.

Had anypony heard my performance? Had anypony cared to look?

Not with the sorry lot that lived here.

So far as my teleport went, the fact was that nopony this side of downtown Baltimare knew a pony could teleport. Unicorns thought the spell to be mythical; considering its complexity, even high level unicorns were right to think that.

That meant nopony knew what a teleport sounded like.

I unloaded my saddlebags and dropped the rag of a cloak on the desk. "At least I can sew."

A hoof rapped on the door. "Grimoire. Are you hurt?" It was Glory. She certainly was a nosy pony for a nihilist.

"I'm okay. Don't come in."

"Pardon me for caring! Missed you at dinner, so we figured you were ill. It sounded like you fell or knocked over your chair."

"I'm okay."

"Ingrate."

Her hoof steps retreated. I put an ear to the door. No guards came galloping to defenestrate me. I shrugged and muttered, "It's after curfew and I'm inside. What problem?"

A few moments later, I murmured, "Nobody heard my song."

I blinked, decided my tripudioetcanticumomanical outburst didn't matter that much, and shrugged. First crush, first kiss, first song... It fit into the category of growing up. Right? Right?

I slapped my towel over my withers, grabbed my makeup bag, and sauntered to a shared bathroom where I soaked for a long time in a hot tub of lavender bubbles.