I said my bit to Biceps.
I was wrong ta' not respond to his letters. I was thinkin' we'd never see each other again since the camps would be separate for the next few years and he was older and both of us would be aged out before pegasi and earth ponies came together again.
I wasn't that into him when we'd been together. I'd pitied him. I'd been curious about some things. I had a lot of heart--not a lot o' wisdom--and had wanted to help him since everypony made fun of his looks and his stutter. And I hadn't been thinking of what my kindness might lead to.
And when it happened, I was afraid. He said he loved me and I panicked.
And this year, I didn't want an awkward conversation. I didn't want to make it worse.
I'd led him on.
I respected him now.
And I acted like a foal.
I cried.
And he buried his head in his hooves.
I just wanted him to know that I cared about him and I respected him and years ago, I'd felt him respond very... strongly to my hugs, my caresses, my everything and it was too much and I'd been embarrassed.
He forgave me. He said it made him be a better stallion. Camp. That is. The teasing. The terrible, horrible, no-good very bad days he had. He couldn't change other ponies. So he changed himself.
And I cried again. That wasn't right at all.
But the world wasn't right, he said. He could leave, he could change, but he couldn't change anypony else... though as a counselor, he could influence. So, he'd studied. He'd practiced. He got licensed. But he couldn't fly. So he couldn't serve as a pegasi counselor. He talked his way inta' the unicorn camp and they laughed at him and he told 'em that's exactly why he was supposed to be a friendship counselor--they needed to learn better acceptance.
And tha' unicorns accepted him.
That's why he was a senior counselor here. He'd never mentioned it. I just assumed that in an emergency the pegasi had slim pickin's for licensed stallions, an' I rambled and made a jackass out'a myself. ... He would've critiqued me for the donkey-slur... gotta work on that.
I'm cryin' again now. Sorry. I'll be back.
Some time later.
He'd done the unicorn camp and further developed his plan to work on his body--by exerting himself even more maybe he could fly. He worked out: harder and harder. He pushed himself again and again--developed rippling muscles. And he flew, higher and longer despite his miniature wings. He was such a better stallion than me. Pony. Better pony.
I hate me.
*
I told Lightnin' Dust I'd...
"Lightning, I ... talked with Biceps. I'm so sorry about that."
"It's fine," Lightning Dust said. "It didn't hurt me."
"You know what I did."
"From his point of view."
"That's what matters."
"Maybe."
"What?"
"Maybe what matters is what you--and Bulk Biceps--do with it."
"I hate myself."
"Don't go sayin' that," she drawled... really... and pat me on a shoulder. "Plenty of other peeps are gonna hate you. Don't ever hate yourself. Ugh. I hate seein'--I caused this," she looked away. "Don't feel sorry for yourself."
I bit my lower lip and sat beside Lightning Dust.
"You know the most of it," I started. "He'd been bullied incessantly for his wings and his stuttering and was dunked under the water. I saved him from it--maybe from drownin'. An' I brought him back ta' the cabin for medical attention an' he wasn't so bad off. An' I hugged him. An' he hugged me. An' he was cryin' an' I rubbed his back and told him what a kind, good camper he was and how any earth pony would be glad to be as moral and righteous as him an' how he should be the most popular pony in the pasture. An' I held his foreleg an' he calmed down. An' he started complimentin' me. An' my ears burned red. An' then we kissed and rolled. An' then he fell out--y'know."
Lightning Dust--that minx--looked at me with a tilted, confused head.
"He fell out o' the pocket that keeps his... bulk... contained," I explained, using country slang for the impregnation anatomy. The slang that meant I couldn't take the first part of his new name seriously. Sure, 'bulking up' meant getting fit and growin' muscles, but the lewd image of somethin' else grew in my mind.
Lightning Dust's face lit up. "That's why you--"
"Shush--" I wanted to continue before I grew so beet red that I couldn't. "So he was out an' rubbin' on me an' I didn't stop it. We didn't have a sowin' and plantin' session, but a lot happened. An' more tha' next time. An' the next. An' then, real soon, we parted. An' I didn't write because I didn't love him. I was embarrassed. When it happened, I just--I liked makin' him feel good. He was more confident--stuttered less. He was already startin' ta' work out--had a theory about force and mass and his wings that he'd developed an' I encouraged him only half-understandin', and after he said he... wished he could be as big and strong as an earth pony an' then that he loved me... I wanted ta' bolt."
Lightning Dust nodded and offered me a hoof. I gave her foreleg a squeeze.
"I mumbled--stupid--had to go. Complemented him ta' be polite but my thoughts were mud. I complemented him on his figure except I was thinkin' too much about a part I wouldn't be seein' again. I said he had a great growing bulk--Celestia--that was--I couldn't even look after that. He must have taken that to mean his muscles, though..." I swallowed. "With him--sweet Snowflake, I loved feelin' like I was makin' a difference. But it was too much. It wasn't right."
"Okay," Lightning Dust said, squeezin' my foreleg one more time, then releasin' it.
"Okay? That's all?"
"Yeah. Whaddaya want?"
"...I don't know."
"So, okay."
"Okay."
I changed the subject. "You know my secret. Give up yours. Somethin'. Somethin' never made sense. You said you're poor. But, you always go clubbin'."
"That makes sense."
"Charity clubs?"
"Some... but nah."
"Were they letting you in free because you were so awesome or somethin' ridiculous like that? These clubs another lie?"
"Nah. I got in. But it didn't cost me bits."
"Favors?"
Lightning Dust bared her teeth. "Friendly bites, nips on the neck for bouncers, y'know."
"I've never been to a club."
Her face filled with such a look of pity. "You and youse fiddle never performed for a crowd?"
"Harvests. Festivals. Bars. Restaurants. A herd of out-of-control goats. But not in a fancy city."
"I'll take you to one."
"Okay." Not likely.
"That why you keep offering me nips?" I reflected on her obsession.
"Well..." She shifted, uneasily. "Nips don't mean much."
"I'm not wholly ignorant. I've been to 'that' museum. Only to age appropriate halls, but still."
"'That' museum?"
I sighed, "'That' museum in Fillydelphia."
"Which one? Fillydelphia's got loads: Museum of the First Republic, Museum of Liberty Belle, the Banned Classic Lit Museum, the B-" louder "C-L-I-T" softer "-M-that it?"
There was no way Lightning Dust didn't know which museum I was talking about. Especially when she listed all those others. An' that had been a suspicious mangling of the BCLM's proper abbreviation. But I elaborated anyway--always a fool for tryin' ta' help. "It's tha' one where ya' enter through a vulva. Surely you've heard of it."
She shook her head, pointedly looking away.
"You have definitely heard of it. Tha' Museum of Adult Anatomy. Celestia's health initiative. If your school h'aint already entered it, y'all will be goin' in soon."
"That's starting to... grow... a memory..." Lightning Dust mused. "Is it the one with the--the--Celestia--oh--the sculptures with the giant pneumatic d--" Then she broke out laughing.
I whacked her muzzle.
She rubbed it. "I deserved that. I was just seeing how... deep you'd go in describing it."
"Anyway," I continued. "Nips can... excite ponies."
"Yeah. That's why they let me in."
I looked at her, this constant requestor of nips from me, very incredulously. "Do you like me?"
"It didn't mean a thing when I did it to them."
"But you wanted me to nip you."
She bit her lower lip.
I looked at her like I'd look at a mound of dirty dishes after a herd of guests left.
"I wanted to feel good... and--yeah--manipulate youse a bit... and every time you turned me down, it made me want it more," she hung her head. "I'm sorry."
"But why? You don't like me."
"Manipulation doesn't mean I like yah, but yeah. Later it was 'coz yah reminded me of my mother when she wasn't backing down--wasn't bein' stupid. It's stupid."
"It's... not." A weird association, I felt, but maybe not?
"I dunno. I respected you and it was a game and I kept losing and I like to win."
"You felt like you were losing? You pranked me successfully again and again and again--"
"Wasn't getting what I wanted."
I sighed. "So it *was* a love-hate thing."
"Like-hate, maybe. If I got a nip, I might have given up."
"No," I said. "Not givin' ya' one now."
"Figured," she shrugged, her manipulation foiled. But I shifted my body closer to hers so we were touching. She sighed.
"What'd you do in these clubs?" I asked.
"Some are dug deep in the ground. Others are in hollowed out skyscrapers--let us fly to the top and do tricks. Not as good as in the open air, but the City has its regulations. No tricks. Speed limits for the safety of others. Traveling flight lanes. Our local weather team manages it so good we've got predictable gusts and thermals. There's no freedom outside flying clubs."
"These aren't dancing clubs?" I guess pegasi ponies liked pegasi-centric clubs. Most pegasi I knew were from Cloudsdale so they didn't need enclosed structures for flying, except the weather factory's wind tunnel.
"Dancing, flying, flydance--we have it all."
"But only for pegasi--"
She shook her head. "In flydance we pick ponies up and toss them around--"
"Dangerous!"
"Padding's on the ground."
We shared a laugh and Lightning Dust mimed dropping me off on the rock outcropping amid the stampede.
"What's more dangerous though is what's in the hearts of ponies. I don't--I don't want you ever repeatin' what I've got here. Can I trust you? Like our campers trust ya'?"
She could. I nodded.
"I know you'd respect it..." she trailed off. "An' don't argue with it--after tonight--don't argue or think less of me. It's bucking important."
I nodded. Later, she continued. "I wanna be a Wonderbolt. Perform with speed and agility at the top of the game. Wonderbolts can't do drugs. I did. I won't again."
"Okay." I wasn't sure why she was telling me this.
"I like nips. I redefined them. They're mine."
"Okay."
"My friends and I got into a club with my ministrations on a puffed-up privileged unicorn of my age whose parents owned it--he was being trained and let us slip in and he hooked us up with tranquilizers and--I'd done them before."
She looked around, then whispered the next bit. "My marefriends were out. One hundred percent. I did less. Only half the injection. I wanted it all, but if I got addicted, I couldn't try out for the Wonderbolts. I wanted it bad. Both. And that unicorn made a visit to us. And I was awake--not fully coherent and I just sort'a wet myself, but awake. And he was on top of me. And he asked and I said yes. I wanted it. And it happened. Celestia."
I didn't have words.
"I was supposed to fly during my first time. I was dull. The tranquilizers..."
She looked down at her hooves, then stared into my eyes.
"I bled and he wiped it up. Had a towel already in place. I didn't tell anyone. My marefriends had been out. Couldn't support my story. I even barely remembered. If I hadn't bled, I wouldn't have. I guess. Doesn't matter."
"You--police--I--"
"No," she glared. "If I talked to them, they'd know about the drugs. Then: no Wonderbolts."
"But--"
"And I had no witnesses."
"Maybe somepony else in tha' club--"
"His parents totes gonna buy them off."
"But the blood--"
"He wiped it up. But I felt it. A half tranquilizer wasn't enough."
"Forensics--"
"Whatever. He wore protection and even if he didn't: it doesn't matter! Drugs equals no Wonderbolts."
"He could do it again--to somepony else!"
"Not my problem.... you gonna make me really regret telling youse?"
"You have to tell--"
"I'm telling you because I think it will help."
"With what?"
Tears came to her eyes. "You're not stupid. Just focus on the point."
Tha' point was-- I didn't even know anymore.
"I'm here. I'm gonna be a Wonderbolt. What happened doesn't matter except how it did to Biceps." She used my shortened moniker for him. "Control yourself."
"That's so sad."
"It's life."
I didn't have an unassailable answer to such a horrible crime and my assistant was unhelpfully informin' us we needed ta' take our turns checkin' on the campers. I didn't have an acceptable answer for her an' I had to drop the point an' not bring it up again.
Tha' only reason I'm relatin' this now is, years later, she said I could since she couldn't get inta' tha' Wonderbolts. An' maybe she thinks she made tha' wrong decision? But, am I right? For her... did she? But it's about more than just her, right?
We left to make our rounds among the campers.
*
The goats, meanwhile, had begun making alterations, along with labor assistance provided by our six instigatin' campers. They, and our campers with plugged noses and sturdy shovels, moved their greater collection of goat pies closer to camp where we could keep an eye on if them funny beans were growin'. At least that was the goats' stated reason for tha' relocation. ... But there was more to it.
The concentrated smell, especially when there wasn't a cool goatstream breeze blowin' would keep our campers farther away from meddlin' in their fields.
We--the earth ponies--were lucky to not have our contract broken for next year. A little odor assailing our campers' lungs and especially whoever was sent to the reflection pasture was a small price to pay. It'd build character.
Anyway, next year I'd be aged out of the counselor position, barrin' any disaster like tha' one that befell the pegasi. So I wouldn't have ta' put up with tha' consequences of my leadership failure ta' instill in tha' foals ta' not trespass. Ah, I was already thinkin' like an adult. Summer friendship camp had done its job.
*
In fact, friendship camp was almost over.
Lightning Dust nodded at my wistful comment. "Yeah, I know. I broke up with that stallion assistant of yours."
"Really?" A stupid response when speaking with most ponies, but given Lightning Dust's obnoxious tendency toward mendacity it just uttered aloud what concerned my heart. I followed that with: "Why?"--a better question.
"I was usin' him. Didn't have Cumulus y' know an' Bulk Biceps isn't an option cause... y'know. And... You hate me."
Silence.
I looked over at Lightning Dust and hung my head. Then I turned away and, although I was exhausted from the events of the day, played on my fiddle a sad song, just for the two of us. It smelled pretty bad. The goat piles, disturbed by relocation, gave off an overwhelmingly manurey aura. At least that would subside over time. Pleased with the campers' work, elder goats had inspected and deemed the placement "goat enough".
The campers had put in the work coming together as something more than pegasi campers or earth pony campers. All of us, in friendship, were pony campers! And goats. ((REF at 1:18)). Friendship: they'd goat it done. Though difficulties arose--an' I wouldn't call our time a resoundin' success--our experience, similar to that of the goats' smelly sculptures, at least had been "very goat". I chuckled. After so many years of camp, I was finally assimilatin' tha' goats' expressions.
Although sweatin' buckets from tha' still oppressive early-night heat, I only played a few sour notes--my companion probably didn't notice. I goat it done.
"Can we be friends?" Lightning Dust asked when I was finished.
I put down my fiddle, spat into a hoof and offered it to her... dirtying it, but she'd offered me one like that once before. I hated that, but I wanted ta' let her know I remembered.
So, as filthy and biologically destructive as the relational activity was, I offered hoof to her and I sighed: "Yup."