Are my shoes too tight?
Bolivia isn’t a country. No way.
Do you remember? The very first night of september?
God, what’s the equation again?
Inertia is a property of matter.
President Brack-a-flacka-obama.
I can’t remember this dumb, stupid equation! It’s like, the easiest part of algebra!
Oranges named orange, why not apple named red?
Y equals… Y equals M X plus… what? What was the last letter?
I’ll have to ask Apple Bloom.
Hold on- the desks aren’t straight.
Misty let out a grunt of frustration as she let the pencil in between her fingers slip out, dropping to the desk below. She clutched her hands deliriously to the surface of said desk, pulling it left and right until it lined up with the rest of the row. Which wasn’t very lined up, to be fair, as every other student had moved their desk to their best bud to collaborate on the problem.
Misty let her head rest onto her hand as she furiously reread the equation for perhaps the tenth time.
The Last of Us is coming out soon.
This is the easiest part of algebra!
I brushed my teeth, but not my… hair?
Yes, my shoes are definitely too tight.
This is the first thing we learned!
This classroom is loud. These kids are loud. They are the problem.
Misty shot a glare around the full room. The teacher was idly tapping away at his laptop at his desk as the teens chatted back and forth. They were supposed to be working on the list of problems, but judging by the way that the conversation almost directly to her right was going, the students were doing anything but the problems.
“And then Bon-bon kissed that air-head! Can you believe it?”
Misty had half a mind to turn and shout to the group of girls talking among themselves. But, in the end, she was a freshman and they were juniors. They probably had a small country’s worth of white-girl ammunition at their disposal, built up over years and years of school. Misty hadn’t taken the time to develop insults like they had.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Not that she didn’t have insults, no. She was a freshman in a class full of juniors and seniors. Once upon a time, Misty was exceedingly great at math. Excelling in Elementary School, and even wiping the floor all through Middle School. Finally, this year, they decided to punch her up a few years into the Algebra class.
Now, though, she hit a brick wall. It seemed that focusing had become harder and harder for her to do, and she didn’t have a clue why. Useless thoughts drifted in between her head whenever she tried to do anything. ‘Just focus harder!’ They would say. ‘Just pay attention in class!’ Even Fluttershy had told her that. Her own sister. And, of course, it never worked.
And trust her own judgment, she had tried everything.
Planners don’t work, because she would forget to write in them, or even worse, leave themes behind.Rhyming subjects don’t work, because she would forget the rhymes.Listening to music while learning didn’t work, because instead of remembering the material, she would create a music video in her head. Someone even suggested writing on her own skin with a sharpie to focus. After getting accused of getting a tattoo, she decided against it.
Does the shelf in my room bow a little bit? Maybe I should pick up a nail and hammer, or something.
Y equals M X plus…
Do you round Pi to three or four? ...is it a crime to round it to four?
M X plus…
Playstation is always looking more appealing… maybe I should pick up a PS3.
Plus…
Why is the Japanese Yen so inflated? It costs like, three hundred bucks for a coke.
Misty let out a grunt worthy of an Oscar as she deflated into her desk like a balloon. Her face slipped from resting onto her hand, slamming into the desk. She resorted to keeping her head there, slowly covering herself with her arms in an attempt to block herself from the real world.
Bad to the bone. Bew-dew-dew-dewww.
This was pitiful.
She used to be the top of her class. She used to run circles around the other students, writing punnet squares and remembering multiplication tables up to what felt like infinity. Now, she couldn’t even remember a series of letters.
Hey. Hey, me. Look to your left.
She moved her eye up and above her arm, looking through her purple hair and at the girl who happened to be staring back at her.
“Well. That was dramatic.”
“Hi, Pinkie.” Misty said, letting her eye fall back into her arm. Pinkie made a humming sound, tapping her fingers onto the desk.
“Why the long face?” Pinkie asked. Misty let out another grumble. Slowly and lethargically, like it was going to burn her if she moved too fast, she slid out the piece of paper from underneath her arms, half of it dangling off of her desk. “The worksheet?”
“Mhm.” She agreed.
“Well, whats wrong with it?” She asked. Misty let out another grumble, forcing her head up and back, leaning into her seat dramatically and crossing her arms.
“It’s…” She tapped the paper. “It’s… dumb.”
“Hey!” Pinkie said, picking the paper away from Misty and holding it close to her own chest. “Don’t say that about Mr. Worksheet! He’s trying his best, okay?”
Misty met Pinkie’s eyes with a half-lidded stare. Pinkie laughed awkwardly, slowly letting the paper fall back to Misty’s desk as she returned to her chair. Pinkie drummed her fingers, looking around the classroom.
“Well…” Pinkie said. “Could you maybe try reading it out?” She asked. Misty let out a grumble, taking her paper and flattening it out on her desk.
“Do I have to?” Pinkie simply rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She cleared her throat with a sigh. “Opal’s father is thinking of buying his daughter a six-month movie pass for forty bucks. With the pass, showings cost one dollar. If showings are normally three dollars and fifty cents each, how much must Opal attend in order to benefit her father to buy the pass?”
“Hmmm.” Pinkie tapped her chin, looking up at the tiled ceilings. “Well, let’s put it this way.” Suddenly, Pinkie’s entire desk rocketed to the side as she scooted over until both of theirs were connecting side-by-side.
“Uh-”
“X.” She said, writing on her paper. Misty’s eyes traced downwards. Now that both of their desks were connected, she realized Pinkie’s paper was completely blank, except for the bit she was writing on. “X would be the amount of shows, and M would be-”
Did I record the new episode of Gumball yet?
I think I liked that new flavor of pop.
No, focus on Pinkie! I need to hear her!
“So, if we subtract X from both sides, then we will get forty equals…”
That math poster looks like it’s from the mid nineties. Is there a date on it anywhere?
I can’t wait for that new pixar movie! Hopefully it’s not totally different like Cars 2 was.
Middlemist Gerard Shy! Focus!
“Opal needs to attend sixteen shows!” Pinkie placed down her fuzzy pink pencil, turning around the paper and showing Misty. Misty’s eyes went misty as she failed to read anything on the paper, instead insisting on looking up at Pinkie.
“...what?” She asked. Pinkie let the paper fall back to the desk as she adorned a confused face. “I’m- I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” She admitted. Pinkie’s smiled faded slightly, now turning her face slightly into a hurt expression. Misty bit her lip, looking down at her own paper. “So- um- X equals…” She let out an exasperated squeak.
I’m hungry.
God, I hope they have tacos today.
“Are you… okay?” Pinkie asked, suddenly breaking Misty from her thoughts. Misty looked up to her darker face full of concern. “You seem kind of… out of it?”
“Yeah, um… Sorry. I’m just-” Misty waved her hand. “I got carried away in my thoughts. What were we talking about?”
“Math?” Pinkie paused, looking the young girl up and down. “Tell Aunt Pinkie what’s going on. I’m here to help!” She beamed. Misty let out an awkward laugh, looking down at her pencil.
“Promise you won’t make Fluttershy like, concerned or anything?” She said. Pinkie leaned back, raising an eyebrow as she did so. But, no matter the expression on her face, she still made a strange movement with her hand, ending in the poking of her eye.
“I pinkie promise I won’t tell Flutters!” She swore.
“Okay. Um.” Misty looked around. “I kind of have a… um… hard time focusing?”
Wait, no. Tacos are only on Tuesdays. That’s why it’s called a Taco Tuesday.
Did I tie up the bread after making a sandwich yesterday?
“Like- when I’m on my own time, it’s fine, right? Because I can just do my own thing and not worry, right? But when I’m sitting down and trying to do a task, I start really into it, but then- loose all steam, right? It’s a little bit like…” Misty felt her shoulders fall.
Are my hands dirty? Maybe I should ask to go to the bathroom just to wash my hands.
“Oh, that’s no fun!” Pinkie said sympathetically. “What about homework? Can you do homework?”
Wait- I could just use hand sanitizer. Right?
“No.” Misty shook her head. “Like I said. If it’s some super specific thing, like filling out a worksheet, I just- I just can’t do it. I usually get Fluttershy to help me with my homework.”
“Fluttershy, huh?” Pinkie asked, raising her eyebrow. “Well- Fluttershy is pretty smart. I could see it.”
“You could see it? Who else am I supposed to ask, Zephyr?” She snapped. Pinkie raised her eyebrow further, but restrained from saying anything else. “It’s just… kind of frustrating. I don’t think I was always like this, but…”
“What if we try a song?” Pinkie suggested. Misty sighed angrily. “Try following along! Y is connected to the-”
I used to carry around hand sanitizer a while ago. Where did that go?
How many slices of pizza have I ate through my entire life?
One day, were all going to die.
When I was, a young boy, my father, took me into the city, to see a marching band…
“Your not paying attention, are you?”
“Huh?” Misty shook her head, snapping out of her stupor. “Err- Y is connected to the… bone?” She attempted. Pinkie sighed, shaking her head.
“Hm. This is serious.” Pinkie cracked her knuckles. “We’re gonna have to get into dangerous territory! We don’t have to do school work. Let’s talk about… Home life!”
“Home life?”
“Home life!” Pinkie picked up her pencil. “We talk about home life as we do the problems! Then maybe you’ll have a better time focusing if you’re thinking about something else!”
“Um… okay.” Misty warily grabbed her own pencil.
Flowers. Flowers. Flowers. Flowers.
“So. What do you like to do after school?” Pinkie asked.
“I like to play Minecraft.” Misty responded. “It’s really fun. The Xbox version is always a little behind the pc version’s updates, but my family only has a windows xp computer that can’t run it.”
“Huh.” Pinkie said, looking confused. “Minecraft. Is that like… a board game?”
“Board game?” Misty asked. Now, it was her turn to look confused. “I thought you knew how to play Minecraft? You, me, and Fluttershy play all the time.”
“Oh.” Pinkie swallowed nervously. “I… I don’t.” She shuffled her paper. “How about question six?”
“Question-” She looked down at her paper. “Okay. A plumber charges twenty five bucks for a service call plus fifty dollars per hour of service. Write an equation in slope-intercept form for the cost, C, after H hours of service. What will be the total cost for eight hours of work? What about ten hours?” She looked back at Pinkie expectantly.
“Let’s think this through, okay? Twenty five dollars would be the Y-intercept, right? Because-”
That’s not right.
“Wait, no.” Misty shook her head. “It’s it fifty bucks plus twenty five?”
“It says fifty dollars per hour of service, right?”
“Yeah, but-” Misty’s eyes widened. “Oh. Per hour. Okay, yeah.” They both began scribbling down their answers.
“Okay. Home time.” Pinkie said, cracking her knuckles again. Misty cringed, watching as she did so, knowing that she had cracked her knuckles so soon after the first time. “What is your relationship with Fluttershy?”
“Huh?”
“You keep talking about her!” Pinkie said. “Obviously, you two know each other!”
“Pinkie, what are you talking about?”
“Are you hiding something?” Pinkie asked, leaning forwards.
“Fluttershy’s my sister.”
…
“What?” Pinkie shrieked. “B-But- I-I know everypony in Ponyville! A-And all of my friend’s family!”
“Ponyville?”
“How did I miss you?” Pinkie leaned forwards, touching Misty’s hair. Misty flinched, swatting away Pinkie’s hand. “Your hair is almost identical!”
“I know!”
“And those eyes! They have the stare-master behind them!”
“The-”
“Are you really related to-”
And then the bell rang.
Flowers. Flowers. Flowers. Flowers.
Pinkie was halfway between their desks, hand extended outwards in a second attempt to grab Misty’s hair. Everybody began getting up, grabbing their bags, and filing out the door in single-file. Pinkie let out a nervous laugh, letting herself fall back to her seat.
“Great.” Misty said, chucking her paper into her binder. “Another incomplete paper. Nice.”
“...sorry.” Pinkie apologized, getting up from her own seat. She threw her backpack around her shoulder, watching as Misty stood up, too.
“No need to apologize.” Misty waved. “I’m obviously not important enough to even notice. Not even by my sister’s own friends.” She sighed. “See ya, Pinkie.” She stood up from her chair, briskly walking past the utterly deflated Pinkie. She stuttered slightly, looking between the empty chair and the rapidly departing Misty.
“Aw, poop!” Pinkie stomped. “I know Twi’ told us not to tell humans about us, but…” She bit her lip. “That look on her poor face!” She sighed, starting her walk out the door, following the rest of the students. “I have to talk with the other girls.”
“Who are you talking to?” An orange-haired girl asked.
“Gah!” Pinkie shouted, almost dropping her backpack. “N-Nopony! Sorry!” She ducked around the person, quickly walking down the hallway.