"No one ever said this friendship thing was going to be easy,” I muttered.
That was a phrase I’d repeated to myself countless times over the past several months. It was supposed to give me hope. It was a reminder that, while things were rough right then, they wouldn't always be. It was an assurance that if I could just pretend to be nice for long enough, things were supposed to get better. It motivated me to fake being friendly until it stopped feeling fake, or at least until pretending became easier. And in the end, if I could just hold out long enough, there would come a day when my life didn't feel like a cruel joke.
Except all the hope those words used to carry had become dead weight. What was once a coping mechanism had been reduced to a compulsion. It didn't do anything to make me feel better, and after enough times, it was starting to make me feel worse, and I wasn’t sure hope was supposed to make you feel ill.
Staring at my weary reflection in the mirror, I could swear the bags under my eyes had gotten even heavier than they’d been in the morning. Maybe the acute lack of sleep I was suffering from was why that phrase made me so sick to my stomach. Then again, why bother narrowing it down to one thing when there was never a short supply of reasons to feel nauseous?
Every day was nothing but school and work, with school being the first and worst part of the day. Ever since that fateful Fall Formal, the students of Canterlot High still avoided me when they could, and when they couldn’t, they made it my problem.
If I didn’t practically run between classes with my eyes pointed toward the floor, I would be overwhelmed by their wayward glances and contemptuous glares. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop them from “accidentally” clipping my shoulder—sometimes just so they could accuse me of shoving them first—but the faster I moved, the less time there was for that to happen, so I learned to map out most of the school in my head just by memorizing specific floor tiles.
Strangely, the harassment didn’t make me feel nearly as bad as seeing someone cowering in my wake. The one time I’d gotten in trouble in recent memory was when I yelled at Microchips for trying to give me his lunch money every morning for a week after the Formal. It’s not like I wanted to explode at him, but even when I said I wouldn’t take his money anymore, he still hand-delivered it to me along with a reminder of everything I’d done every morning.
Eventually, I had enough, and when I did, I was told I was the problem. And that was a microcosm of what life at school was like—I hadn't done anything to anyone else before or since then, yet everyone acted like I was still the same Sunset as before. The only difference was in how they showed it.
Sure, at least I had “friends” now. You’d think that would make me feel better, wouldn’t you? It hardly did. To call them friends was a stretch. They were more like distant acquaintances, and they seemed content to keep it that way.
They may have let me sit with them at lunch, but I wasn’t really hanging out with them as much as I was a part of their background. They might have added me to their group chats, but the few times I tried to say anything, my messages went ignored. And even though they would invite me to hang out with them after school sometimes, I was either too tired or too poor to have fun with them. When I really thought about it, it was hard to blame them for not wanting to be friends with such a stick in the mud—especially one that had threateningly swiped at them so many times.
Everything about our “friendship” felt forced. Twilight had told them to look after me before she left for Equestria, and to their credit, they’d kept me around so far, but in the same way a prisoner keeps a ball and chain around their ankle. There was still a massive gulf between us, and even if my sail wasn’t in tatters, the winds were stagnant.
There was no denying it: they wanted to do this just as little as I did, but they didn’t want to disappoint the princess of friendship, so they did their best to tolerate me. I was an obligation, and if I wasn’t, they were just doing it out of pity. They must have thought they were all that I had. And the worst part?
They were all I had.
Some days, it felt like they were all waiting for me to snap and go back to being a total bitch—like they’d all agreed the moment they found a good enough reason to do so, they would toss me out. And some days, I felt like I should just do that and get it over with.
Today, I almost did.
We all met at their usual lunch table, as we’ve done nearly every day since winter break ended. Early on, I learned not to try to get a word in unless someone asked me something directly; since none of them ever stopped talking, I seldom ever spoke at lunch. But today, things were quiet at first, and that gave me a little more confidence than usual. I decided to try and add to the conversation when I had the opportunity.
That was a mistake.
At first, things were going well. I still didn’t have much to add, but the few times I said anything, no one’s smile immediately evaporated when they looked at me—not much, but it was something.
As I should have expected, that didn’t last. Every other time I opened my mouth, someone would cut me off until I couldn’t squeeze in a word. But that’s just what happens sometimes, right? You will get overlapped when you have a conversation among six different people. Everyone’s guilty of interrupting others now and then, so they say.
And maybe it was the sleep deprivation warping my perspective. Or maybe it was because of our history. Or maybe I randomly decided to make her the reason behind all my problems that day. Regardless, I could only notice one girl, in particular, doing it. It was Rainbow Dash.
Just Rainbow Dash.
Perhaps I should have tried to be a little more understanding. Even before we became friends, I knew Dash was loud and outgoing. Everyone does. That’s just her thing. And I thought maybe that’s one of her quirks I’d get used to with time.
But the well of understanding I had for her ran dry forever ago. No matter what I said or did, she was always so standoffish with me. Any time I was around her, she would deliberately avoid looking at or talking to me. The few times she did, she would make these playful “jabs” at my expense, usually bringing up things I’ve done in the past—stuff she probably knows I regret.
Overall, it was like she was going out of her way to make me feel unwelcome and doing an excellent job at it. The other girls were still apprehensive about me, but I could point to a moment with each of them where it at least felt like they were trying.
Except Rainbow Dash.
But what could I really do about it? Was I even allowed to be mad at that? She was only acting that way because of things I’d said and done, presumably. Ultimately, the way she treated me was yet another consequence of my actions. That did nothing to stop her attitude from infuriating me, but I resolved to direct that negativity toward the root of the issue: me.
All of that is what led me to where I was: staring down my reflection in the most sequestered bathroom in the school, splashing my face with cold water from the sink in hopes it would wake me up and cool me down, and psyching myself up enough to suffer through the rest of the day. There may have only been a few more hours left in the school day, but I could already tell every last hour would drag on like ten.
At least I didn’t have to work, so once it was over, I could go home and be miserable there instead of school until tomorrow morning, when the cycle would begin anew.
Before I could begin my next lap on the circuit of self-pity, a voice as sudden as it was timid derailed my train of thought.
“Umm, Sunset? Is everything okay?”
Its volume was hardly above a whisper, but it was still enough to startle me. This part of the school was remote and often bereft of any noise. It was uncommon to hear footsteps in the halls outside, so, when someone was coming, I'd usually hear them long before they entered the bathroom. When I looked up from the sink, it suddenly made a lot of sense why I hadn’t heard them coming.
“Fluttershy?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”
Somehow, she seemed more startled by my answer than I was by her. “O-Oh! Um, well, using the bathroom. Or, at least, I’m about to.”
It was hard to contain my surprise. I would have expected her to run if she saw me alone in a place like this, but there she was—asking me if I was okay, no less. If anything, she was probably relieved when she saw me disappear from the lunch table. It's not like she was trying to find me, right?
“Why not just use the one next to the cafeteria?” I asked.
“It’s too crowded in there so close to the end of lunch.” She looked away sheepishly. “Plus, since this bathroom is so out of the way, it's the one I feel most comfortable using.”
I nodded. It was a relief to know she wasn’t looking for me—a reaction even I found weird at the time—but her explanation made much more sense.
“Right, I’ll leave you to it. Catch you later.” Figuring she'd want me out of there as soon as possible, I wasted no time heading for the exit.
As I walked past her, she kept her attention on me. “Umm, sorry to ask again, but are you alright?”
I turned to face her once more, suppressing a skeptical look. “Yeah…? I’m fine, why?”
“I-I just noticed you left lunch early. I was going to catch up with you after school and ask you if everything was okay, b-but I figured I would now since you’re here,” she stammered, her eyes glancing around the room as she did.
So much for sneaking away unnoticed.
Something about her tone left me conflicted. There were hints of genuine concern, but she sounded fearful just the same. And while I could have done without being reminded she was still deathly afraid of me, it was the most attention anyone showed me in a while. That made me feel good. Weird, but good.
“I just–" I paused momentarily, eyes briefly flitting around the room as I formulated an excuse that wasn’t totally deceptive, "–didn’t sleep that much last night. Lots of studying and all. That’s why I was splashing my face with cold water. Usually, that gives me a little more energy.” I flashed a reassuring grin. Technically, I wasn't lying. That wasn't the whole reason I was there, but it was one nonetheless.
“Oh.” Her mouth hung open for a few seconds like her brain was loading. “I’m glad you’re alright, then.”
She smiled sweetly at me. Thinking that was the end of our conversation, I went to make a move for the exit, but before I could turn around to leave, her voice stopped me yet again.
“Umm, before you go, I wanted to ask you something.”
She sounded even more hesitant than before. It was a little annoying getting lassoed back into conversation a third time, especially since she was so clearly intimidated by me, but I didn't want to give her that impression.
Curling my lip into a half smile, I raised an eyebrow. “What's up?”
“I understand if you don’t want to since you said you’re tired, and I can’t imagine you’d want to do something like this while–”
“Can you get to the point?” I winced, as if those words cut my tongue on the way out. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Fluttershy replied. I was shocked at how calm she sounded, but I could tell by how much faster her eyes wandered around the room she was masking even more anxiety than before.
“The girls and I are having band practice at AJ’s tonight, and I wanted to know if you’d wanna come hang out with us.”
Part of me knew I should say yes—especially after snapping at her—but there was no way I was going to. Sure, this might be a good chance for me to get closer to the other girls by engaging in something they all like to do. But at the same time, it might mirror our lunch period, only longer. Just hours of me sitting awkwardly, the girls carrying on and doing their thing while I add nothing.
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know. I feel like I’d just get in the way,” I replied.
Fluttershy shook her head. “I don’t think you would. Most of the time, we’re just sitting around talking instead of actually playing any music, but we have lots of fun, and I didn’t want you to feel left out of that.”
Again, I felt a push within myself to accept her invitation. Admittedly, that was the most fun-sounding thing any of the girls had invited me to so far, and it could be a good opportunity to show the girls I play guitar as well. We could bond over playing music—something that might bring us closer together.
Or, the more likely outcome: I’d spend several hours getting ignored. And to be fair, how could I really be expected to hang out when I was just going to be the only one there who wasn’t in the band? If I were, that'd be one thing, but the idea of trying to hold a conversation while they're talking about band things or trying to play a song sounded incredibly unappealing.
And if I went, I'd be committing myself to staying. It wouldn't be like leaving lunch early, where it was easy to slip away mostly undetected. If I tried to escape, they would undoubtedly notice, and I’d have to devise an excuse on the spot. Making something up wouldn’t be challenging, but I was trying not to do that as much anymore.
“Maybe next time,” I declined again, “but hey, I appreciate the offer. Thanks, Fluttershy.”
I gave her an encouraging smile. Despite my rejection, she returned the gesture.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the screen. “Anyway, I gotta get going if I want to make it to class on time,” I said, hoping I would be able to escape this time.
“Oh! Right,” she replied, “Well, the offer is still there if you change your mind. Either way, umm, I'll be seeing you.” Before I could respond, Fluttershy had already turned around and begun walking to the stall in the far back.
“Right. See you.” I said.
Instead of leaving the bathroom in the same bitter mood I often entered it with, I felt better, for once. Not only had someone asked me if I was okay for the first time in a long while, but it was the last person I would have expected to. Even more surprising was that she explicitly invited me to do something because she didn't want me to feel left out. Fluttershy, the girl I bullied daily just a few months ago, wanted me to feel included. How wild.
Even if that marginally lifted my spirits, I was still saddled with an unshakable feeling I’d done something wrong. Despite being invited, I’d turned her down. Sure, I did it with sound reasoning, but I could stand to sit around doing nothing for a few hours if it meant my friends might actually start feeling like friends. Despite being the victim of the most abuse during my reign of terror, Fluttershy extended an olive branch to me, and I snapped it in half right in front of her. I’m so good at friendship. Twilight would be so proud.
And there was still the question of why. Since the Formal, I could count on less than one hand the amount of times me and Fluttershy talked. Now, she wasn’t even flinching when I snapped at her. Why was she suddenly concerned about me? What changed? Her inability to look me in the eye for longer than a second was enough evidence to prove she was still afraid of me, so what else could it be?
Knowing I wouldn’t find any satisfying answers to those questions, I continued my day as usual. It was such a small gesture in the grand scheme of things, but no matter how much I tried to tell myself it wasn’t actually that big a deal, I couldn’t deny it gave me something to feel good about.
Maybe that served as proof of how dismal things had been since the Formal. Maybe it was a sign that, although our pace was glacial, we were making progress, and that things might not be so hopeless after all. Maybe I was finally learning how to fake it well enough.
And maybe—just maybe—this friendship thing would finally get easier.