//------------------------------//
// Getting The Ball Rolling 
// Story: Luck Of The Draw 
// by hoofbeatsoftime 
//------------------------------//

"Applejack, early as always!"

Applejack returns the principal's smile readily, doffing her hat. "Mornin', Miss! Yer lookin' mighty peppy today,"

Principal Celestia smiles down at her. "I suppose I am 'peppier' than usual- I've been looking forward to your visit for some time now," she lifts an elegant hand to brush her high cheekbone as her expression gains a note of curiosity. "Is it just you today?"

Glancing over her shoulder as if to verify, Applejack hums. "Hard to get away from the farm this deep into the season. Ah reckon Big Mac won't be goin' out 'til wintertime," 

The window for idle small talk closes with her words, and Applejack ducks to scoop up the crate of bottled cider at her feet. 

"Just in here should do," the click click click of the principal's heels echo throughout the currently unoccupied school. Applejack follows closely behind, tracking mud with each squelch of her square-toed boots.

"The mud's deep 'nuff to drown in this time a year," she says after a particularly loud squelch. "Don't you worry none, Ah'll clean it soon as-"

"There's no need, Applejack. Trust me; the second the rest of the student body get here, the floors won't even be visible anymore,"

They reach the far corner of the atrium, where a pair of sparsely-stacked machines stand side-by-side. The sight alone brings dollar signs to Applejack's mind. 

"Students are always asking when we'll restock on Sweet Apple Cider," Principal Celestia summons a silver key-ring from her breast pocket. She inserts one into the metal keyhole beneath the vending machine's buttons, and the front pops out in one smooth motion. "Just yesterday, someone snuck into the teacher's lounge in search of a 'secret stash',"

Applejack chuckles, eyes locked on Celestia's hands as she flicks through the stack of cash she retrieved from the vending machine. "Sounds 'bout right. Cider has a way of givin' folks the crazies,"

Principal Celestia's eyes squinch half shut. "Crazies," she echoes, a hint of laughter in her voice. "You certainly have a way with words, Applejack,"

"Heh, thanks, Miss," Applejack has heard as much before, though people tend to look more annoyed when they say it. That's what's great about Principal Celestia; for all her elegance and importance, she never comes off disingenuine like other fancy folks do. 

Applejack makes short work of restocking the machines. She steps back and admires the fruits of her mild labour with a grin. "That should do it," she casts her gaze about the atrium in search of a clock. "Ah should be gettin' back to the Acres. Them fields ain't gon' plough 'emselves,"

She moves to scoop up the now-empty crate only to pause when Principal Celestia noisily clears her throat. 

"Just a moment, Applejack."

When Applejack peers up at Celestia this time, she is all too aware of the foot separating them. The dull early morning light illuminates the sharp contours of the principal's face, lending her expression gravity Applejack can't recall witnessing before. 

Applejack blinks. "Uh...sure," at her response, Celestia nods and click click clicks towards the front of the school. Applejack follows suit, retracing her muddy bootprints and mentally weighing the likelihood of Celestia murdering her. 

Don't be silly, AJ, she admonishes herself as Celestia makes a sharp left turn. Chances are she wants to discuss sales- seeing how good things are going, it'd only make sense if she wants to add a few more of our products to the roster. I bet them city kids would kill fer some apple squares.

Principal Celestia stops in front of a door labelled Pr. Office. Again, she slips out her key-ring, and, within the time it takes Applejack to realise Celestia has never conducted one of their business meetings outside of the public eye, the door eases open. 

"Make yourself comfortable," the principal's steps are soundless against her office's carpeted floor. Applejack misses the familiar heel-clicks. 

She settles on one of the two armchairs stationed in front of the principal's desk and searches for a comedic angle. "Been a long while since Ah got called into the Principal's office," her armchair's worn seat sinks under her weight. This thing must get a whole lotta use.

Opposite to Applejack, Principal Celestia steeples her fingers atop her desk. "Is that so?" her stare lances Applejack's very core. "Did you get into a lot of trouble, growing up?"

Applejack resists the urge to skirt the older woman's gaze. She shifts in her seat, placing both hands on her inner thigh. The familiar texture of her business jeans(her only pair of jeans without patches sewn all over the legs) brings her some small comfort. "S'pose Ah did. Not on purpose, 'course, but l'il me had no filter, 'n my teachers didn't take to kindly to a grade-schooler pointin' out their foul breath, or what have you."

Celestia's lips quirk briefly. "I see," her expression hardens as quickly as it thawed. Now, she assesses Applejack in a manner better suited to a history paper. "Where was it that you attended schooling? Canterlot Elementary?"

Applejack nods, rubbing her palms against her thighs. "Up 'til the 6th grade. Nowadays, Ah take classes at Franks," the moment she says this, Applejack gets the distinct impression of falling into a carefully laid trap. 

"Franks Spragins High School, is it?" The principal tilts her head, her pastel hair following the movement gracefully. How do these classes work?"

There's no mistaking this for friendly small talk anymore. Applejack knows, because Principal Celestia only ever tilts her head to that angle when she means business. But what type of business involves the classes I'm taking? Is she checking whether or not my education's up to snuff? 

"Uh-" easy going, AJ. Just answer her question..."Same as any ol' class, jus' that you do the work on yer own time,"

"Independent learning, then? I can certainly see how that would be favourable to your schedule; it's difficult to find time outside of your farm work, no doubt,"

Something about her tone clues Applejack in. The farmgirl hesitates, running her own words through her head anew. Did it sound like I was complaining when I said that? "It's time-consumin', but it don't bother me none. Us Apples start workin' young, so we get used to it right quick,"

Celestia nods, but Applejack can tell it's not in agreement. "You have two siblings?"

"Big Mac 'n Applebloom," Applejack says. She wonders if she can leave it at that, but Celestia doesn't speak, and her expectant silence commands the farmgirl to continue. "Big Mac's a few years my senior, and Bloom's jus' finishing' up 6th grade,"

"And where will she go, once she's done?"

Applejack hesitates. "...well. We haven't decided, as of yet,"

"But you expect she'll follow in your footsteps," Principal Celestia doesn't bother framing her statement as a question as she did before. Applejack feels a clutch in her belly. 

"...Miss, s'there a point to all this? Ah got work to git back to."

Celestia's smile is knowing. Applejack feels like a criminal in an interrogation room with blood-red hands, insisting against all reason that she's innocent to no one's belief- not even her own. 

"The point, Applejack, is that you know what's right for your sister. You know what's right for you. And Canterlot High would be honoured to have you both."