Principal Cadence’s first act in office – or so it felt to her – was to sit down and peer at the sullen scalp of Sour Sweet, sitting opposite. It was an act that was becoming drearily familiar.
Today was… what, the sixteenth, seventeenth time this had happened? Still the same sit-down-and-peer routine, still the same sullen scalp, still the same Sour Sweet.
Cadence shuffled her papers, then realized this looked too formal and stopped at once. Whatever happened, she was NOT going to be Cinch version 2.0.
“Sour Sweet,” she said in what she hoped was a gently authoritative voice, “I think we need to talk.”
“Oh yes, Principal Cadence, absolutely!” cooed Sour Sweet. She added sotto voce, “Because I didn’t think I was here for games.”
Not for the first time, Cadence wondered if Sour Sweet was being difficult, or if multiple personality disorder was a real thing. She’d studied psychology and counselling long ago, and some details faded away like dying echoes.
While she considered her next move, Cadence’s mouth knew the drill: “You’ve been sent here because Professor Lovejoy reports you’ve been disrupting her classes. I understand you…” Cadence glanced at the report on the desk, mentally edited out the stronger language, and continued, “…snooped through her desk at recess, and then loudly talked in her class about her… private difficulties…”
“They’re not private now,” muttered Sour Sweet, but not quietly enough.
“That’s not the point, Sour Sweet –”
“Anyway, who brings a personal diary to school?”
“Sour Sweet,” demanded Cadence, who long ago had herself suggested the “frustration diary” idea to Lovejoy, “the point is that you shouldn’t be acting like this. Violating people’s privacy, talking back in class, deliberately being uncooperative: Principal Cinch may have ignored some behaviours, but that’s not how I intend to run Crystal Prep Academy.”
In secret, Cadence cursed Cinch and didn’t hold back on the language. Back when achievement had excused anything, Cinch had treated bullying among students as little more than a nuisance. Losers were just the necessary price to pay for winners. At the same time, though, bullying had never been used against tutors: Cinch had hired only the best, which in her respect-obsessed world meant any student trying to be difficult to authority would soon find themselves in humiliating detentions and remedial classes, whether they needed them or not. A slight against tutors was a slight against Cinch.
Now? Cadence had done her best as the dean to pat sobbing backs and soothe frightened faces, but as the principal, the hammer had to come down. She didn’t believe in losers and winners. Life wasn’t some kind of abstract points-scoring game.
Some of the tutors had stayed. Others had given notice as soon as the reliable Cinch had been replaced by a complete unknown. Sour Sweet had taken home the wrong message: she knew a slight against tutors was a slight against Cadence.
After a sullen silence, Cadence tried to think nicer thoughts. “Look, I know the adjustment period has been… trying, and things are so radically different now. Don’t think you’re the only student I’ve talked to about this. But it seems to me you’re acting out more than usual, and I wondered if there was a reason why?”
Sour Sweet sat up straight, folded her arms, and regarded Cadence much as an opposing general regards an enemy that forgot to bring any weapons.
“Oh, nooo,” said Sour Sweet, fluttering her eyelashes, “I like suddenly going from one of the best students to one of the worst. It’s no skin off my nose, Principal. Don’t feel you have to mind me.”
If I ever have children… Cadence thought grimly. Aloud, she said, “Is everything all right at home? I remember in your freshman year –”
“I don’t see how that’s any business of yours!”
Too late, Cadence lost her patience. “What is my business is your behaviour at school, and that ends now. Five days of detention, starting today.”
Sour Sweet spluttered. “What? You can’t do that. I’ve got archery, horse-riding –”
“As principal of this school, I’m within my right to give you detention whenever I feel it’s necessary.”
“Yeah? How about I don’t show up for it?”
“Then I’ll be forced to call your parents and explain what’s been going on. Unless you’d rather tell them…?”
Sour Sweet gaped at her; the frightened freshman year flashed across her face. It was a cruel move. Even Cadence was shocked at herself. But she’d gone through this petty pouting-and-sniping routine one time too many. She’d never meet anyone so difficult.
“That’s all for now,” said Cadence, shuffling papers. “Dismissed.”
After Sour Sweet paused for as offensively long as possible and slammed the door as loudly as she dared, Cadence put down the papers and tried to wash the strain off her face with both hands.
Seventeen days without having to give out a detention. Seventeen! And they’d been doing so well…
Crystal Prep Academy hadn’t always been the best. Way back, Canterlot High School had dominated the league tables, and Everton had always been one step ahead. But Crystal Prep had been stable, high quality, and unlike CHS – which had slipped a long time ago – or like Everton – which had a reputation for being snobby, expensive, and pampering – Crystal Prep had remained the place to be for the most ambitious and talented students. From all backgrounds.
Many thanks were owed to Principal Cinch. She’d never exactly been liked – no one would have invited her to a party, and she wouldn’t have gone anyway – but parents and tutors alike had given her something she’d valued more: respect. “Cinch” became a byword for tough-but-fair treatment, for academic quality available to those willing to work hard, for influence and a fast track to the higher institutions.
Shining Armor had loved the place. His family weren’t exactly poor slouches themselves – his father had graduated from Crystal Prep and gone on to become a living mathematical legend – so Shining had run through the academic obstacle course with barely a stumble. His team had gone on to lead Crystal Prep to one of their most spectacular wins at the Friendship Games. He too had become a legend.
But Cadence had never fully been sold on it.
Everyone talked about the high marks and excellent students. Behind closed doors, she saw the price. She saw the students slowly descend to insanity.
Pulling their own hair. Eating till they made themselves sick (or refusing to eat at all). Breaking down in classes. Fighting over the slightest insult. Dropping out in panic. The terror in their eyes, the heavy breathing, the screams, the way some collapsed inward like broken machines or burst out like caged animals… That was the Crystal Prep that Cadence always saw.
It had taken effort to see it. Showing weakness at Crystal Prep was like showing a bleeding leg to sharks.
She’d survived her own early years there largely through patience. Her classmates always remarked on how calm she seemed, even on exam days. It had taken Cadence a long time to work out why that was so strange.
Then she’d studied counselling, took on babysitting work to fund a university course, finally became a counsellor when Cinch couldn’t ignore the issue completely and was ordered by the superintendent to hire one, worked her way up to deanhood…
And now she was in a position of control.
Principal Cinch had done the unthinkable: shortly after the last Friendship Games, she’d retired.
No one outside the school knew why. Stress, perhaps, or just feeling she’d served her time. Perhaps the lack of a definite victory had made her feel she was getting too old?
Cadence privately hoped it was because Cinch had suddenly grown a conscience and simply didn’t feel up to the task of reversing all the damage she’d done. It wasn’t much of a hope: in her experience, Cinch never changed her mind about anything.
As for feeling up to the task, well… there, Cadence could sympathize.
Principal Cadence looked up from her paperwork when someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she said.
The door creaked open. A heavy weight thumped over the thick carpet. The mass of muscles sat down. In Cadence’s imagination, the shadow blocked out all light.
Ah. The janitor.
Despite her own brain screaming at her not to, Cadence looked up.
Hesitated.
“Ah, I know why you’re here,” she said, bright as a falling chandelier. “It’s about that new proposal you submitted, isn’t it?”
Silence.
“For the new cleaning fluid,” continued Cadence. “And the next-generation… mop. And crystal bucket.”
The figure opposite grunted.
“I… see…” Cadence coughed and fidgeted in her seat: she’d long since thrown out Cinch’s throne-like monstrosity, but suddenly she found herself wishing she had a more impressive chair to sit on. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t… accede to your request…”
In some inexplicable way, the room darkened further. The sunlight cutting through the blinds simply died from radiation poisoning.
“I’m afraid it’s not… within budget, right now… with one thing and another…” She gave up. “You understand, right?”
The figure regarded her. Not just the face: somehow, the whole gigantic body oozed essence of scowl, as though Cadence’s mere existence was a tedious fly to be swatted.
I am the principal, thought Cadence firmly, I am the one in control of the situation. I am perfectly calm.
“So… there you have it. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.”
To her alarm, the figure stirred; fortunately, it was only so he could stand up. His mane of black hair flowed about him like a lion bathed by infernal flames. He replaced his cap on his head with the ceremony of a king awarding himself the honour of a crown. Dark terror shrouded him like a myth.
He spoke: “I WILL APPEAL. AND I WILL HAVE MY… CRYSTAL BUCKET.”
Cadence reminded herself firmly that he was just a guy with a job, that he’d always been a valued member of staff. Something primal in her spinal cord tried to curl up and weep.
“Goodbye,” said Cadence, hoping he’d take the hint.
Grimacing with the effort, the janitor eased his bulk around and surged out of the office, sucking the door shut behind him with his passing. Or so it seemed to Cadence’s imagination.
Only then did she let out a breath and hurry to fetch her coat. She needed to step out the office for a bit, and not just because of the constant stress of budgetary appeals. For some reason, every time she spoke to Mister Sombra, she always felt that she’d just barely escaped with her soul.
Cadence’s walk took her away from the forbidding brick walls of Crystal Prep and some way into town. She preferred the feathery grass and Lombardy poplars – where the wind whistled through her curls as if helping her to fly away – over the stifling prison of the school. A good walk for five minutes was worth hours of suffocating in Cinch’s old office.
Besides, this was the quickest route to the training fields.
Up ahead, Coach Shining Armor blew his whistle and watched the football team get into formation.
“Come on, Cherry Fizzy!” he bellowed. “You gotta move faster than that! Noteworthy, to the left! No, my other left! Caramel, stop texting and get your head in the game! Let’s act like we wanna win some points, got it!?”
The football team were all big, burly men, most of them friends and former classmates. They sweated and grunted and didn’t argue back. Cheerfully, Cadence waited for the coach to finish playing Big Mean Drill Sergeant, then brushed down her lapels and sauntered over.
“Am I interrupting anything?” she said, covering Shining Armor’s eyes. Under her fingers, his face stretched into a grin.
“Depends,” he said gruffly. “Are you on the team, ma’am?”
“Sure. Pass me the ball. I’ll get a home run for you.”
“Baseball’s down the hall, sorry.”
She let go, and they exchanged laughs like gifts. Some of the team, noticing Cadence, took off their helmets or waved like schoolkids spotting their mother. Graciously, Cadence waved back.
“Eyes on the ball, Spearhead!” Shining Armor shouted. To Cadence, he whispered, “Everything going well at Crystal Prep?”
“About as usual.” Cadence watched the team form up, half playing against half. “Practice for the big game?”
“Yeah. The Buckminster Broncos are no joke – Cherry Fizzy, you’re too far out! Get back in your zone! – so I’m putting them through their paces.”
“Mom and Dad send their love,” said Cadence.
Shining Armor blushed. “Cadence, don’t get all mushy on me before touchdown.”
“They called me this morning to check if I was all right. They’re more than happy to have you over for dinner again. Dad’s promised not to sing any love songs this time.”
“It’s not the songs I object to. It’s the way he sings them. He could get arrested for that hip action.”
Cadence giggled behind her hand. “Humour him! It’s his favourite! He sang it to my mother before he proposed. He’s just… supportive, is all. My family’s like that. I’m sure I warned you before.”
Grunting as though conceding the point, Shining Armor adjusted his cap. “I like affectionate.”
They watched the scrum for a while. Then he shouted, “Spearhead! SPEARHEAD! Pass the ball already! Don’t try to go the whole way – I just said don’t –”
“Stressful?” Cadence rested her head against his neck. Like they were students again. Young, carefree…
Shining Armor massaged his forehead. “I can handle it. Ever since he met Lemony Gems, Spearhead’s mind hasn’t been in the game –”
And because some things never passed Cadence’s notice, she gave a small squeal. “Lemony Gems? Really?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“That’s wonderful! I always thought they were sweet on each other. Since when?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Since when have they been officially, you know…” Keenly, Cadence twined two fingers around each other.
“Couple of months now. You didn’t know?”
Sadly, Cadence shook her head, her scalp boring into Shining’s jawline by mistake. “Sorry. I haven’t been in touch with anyone for a long time.”
“Not since becoming principal, I guess?”
As if zapped by static, Cadence stood up straight and paced up and down beside him, rubbing her shoulders down and smoothing her sleeves. Never in her office, never in her school, but always out here.
“I never thought it’d be like this,” she blurted out, to her own surprise. “It’s like there was a lid on the place, and now someone’s wrenched it off. Everyone has a complaint, a request, a problem, a whatever. Shining, we might lose funding.”
“What?”
“Some of the sponsors say Cinch was the only one they trusted. Now she’s gone, they’re getting cold feet. If the school’s grades start slipping…”
“Wouldn’t the state support –?”
“Yes, but it’s nowhere near what we got from rich clients. I’m not joking: we might be looking at our first cutbacks in years.”
“It’s that bad?”
“Well…” Cadence slowed down. “It hasn’t gotten that bad yet. Just talks at the moment. But everyone’s looking to me, and so far, they say they haven’t seen anything encouraging.”
“SPEARHEAD, your left’s wide open! Your left! LEFT!” Shining blew his whistle, pointed furiously, ignored the distant grumbling, then turned softer eyes back to Cadence. “Listen, I’m here whenever you need to vent. Don’t worry too much about it, though. Big changes are always tricky. And from what I hear, a lot of students prefer you to Cinch. Just stick to your guns. You’ll get through.”
Cadence stopped, pressed a hand to her chest, and let her breath out. Her arm swung slowly outwards as though to banish all worry from her heart. Not all of it was so easily swept aside.
“How’s Twilight doing?” she asked.
There was a crack of muscles and skull in Shining’s face; his scowl was that intense. “Fine. I’m glad she’s well away from Cinch. CHS is a big improvement.”
“Is something wrong?” Something about the leaden way he spoke cut into Cadence like a sabre through a pillow.
Shining seemed to jerk himself awake. The crunched scowl was gone.
“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to see it,” he growled. “I always knew Cinch was pushing her, but blackmail…”
“You didn’t know,” said Cadence, stroking the locks around his ear. “No one knew. It was very brave of Twilight to tell us, and we should be thankful for that.”
“I trusted Cinch…”
“We all did!”
“…thought she had the right idea…”
“Shining, you’re grinding your teeth. Take a deep breath.”
He did so, though his arm action was much curter than hers. “Sorry. I mean, I’m glad you’re taking over. Just wish Twilight could have kept it going, you know? Dad had his heart set on both of us graduating.”
“She’s happier where she is.”
“I know, I know, and I’m happy… that she’s happy. But you have to wonder, you know?”
Cadence certainly did. She knew Shining was intensely proud of his victory in the Friendship Games. Only a few months back, he’d been grinning like a maniac at the idea of Twilight carrying the torch for him. Shining hadn’t protested Cinch’s methods until he’d found out what they really were –
A blast of the whistle shocked her back to the present.
“SPEARHEAD! You call that a pass!? Aim before you throw! See, you just gave the other side an easy win!”
To everyone’s shock, Spearhead threw off his helmet in one violent spasm and stormed off the pitch. Cadence and Shining glanced at each other. Then Shining ran forward.
“Hey,” he said, “you OK –?”
“OK?” Spearhead rounded on him. “OK!? I’ve had it up to here with your hegemonious attitude, bro! You’re extincting my musaic passion! I’m going elseplace, where there’s cool non-shoutastic vibes!”
All nearby brains crashed in confusion.
“Wha…?” said Shining.
“Oh, want it in prosaic!?” Spearhead leaned so close they could smell his aftershave. “I! QUIT!”
They watched him stamp away in silence. Cadence made a half-hearted attempt to grip his sleeve as he passed, but he turned a suddenly sad face at her, shook his head, and ducked out of sight.
Shining turned red. He was apparently trying to work out what Spearhead had just said.
Then he noticed the rest of the team. He could have been a speaker at a funeral.
He coughed awkwardly. “Er… take five, people?”
Even an emotionally ambushed footballer knows a free lunch when he hears one. Within seconds, the team had hurried off to the changing rooms, each giving Cadence an awkward “goodbye” on the way past.
Before Cadence could speak, Shining sighed and waved her down. “I know, I know,” he said. “I really blew it.”
Cadence’s right arm gave his broad shoulders a tight hug, but more out of obligation. Her left arm held her mouth to her lips. Even a long way from Cinch’s office, the school seemed to cling to them both like dirt.