" 'Member Applebloom, no matter what they tell ya, always say no! Even if they dress it up all purdy with them new-fangled vape pens, it's still gonna give ya lung cancer, ya hear?"
Applebloom, to her credit, does not roll her eyes at her big sister's fourth anti-smoking PSA of the morning. Instead, she keeps the straightest face she can manage and gives a very solemn nod.
"Loud 'n clear, AJ,"
Applejack gives her one last once-over, ensuring the laces of her brand spanking new Converse are tied, and that her ribbon's tight enough to hold for the duration of the day, before stepping back and sighing. "Ah'll see you after school, then. Go make me proud, AB," she musses the shorter girl's bangs, earning a yelp.
"Hey- Ah spent 3 hours on this!" Applebloom rears back and shoots her sister an entirely ineffective glare. Applejack resists cooing at her, if only to avoid destroying her l'il sis' reputation on her first day.
They walk through the final set of doors separating the outside world from CHS, and Applebloom wastes no time in disappearing into the chaos. "See ya, sis!"
Left to her own devices, Applejack tugs the brim of her Stetson and awkwardly joins the fray of puttering students. Immediately, she's hit full force by the mingled stench of B.O. and spray-on deodorant. No biggie, she smiles to herself, compared to the pig pen, this is almost a nice smell. A particularly smelly fella trundles past, and she wrinkles her nose. Almost.
Applejack digs into her jeans pocket and fishes out an aggressively folded piece of paper. It crinkles as she unfolds it and passes her palm over its creases. "Alrighty, let's see here..."
Her locker number, blotted at the very top of the page in nearly illegible writing, appears to be 2006. Applejack frowns at the lack of any additional information. Guess I gotta do some sleuthing, then.
Some sleuthing turns out to be a good ten minutes spent manoeuvring through the randomly spaced throngs of teens(who are all inexplicably drawn to the middle of hallways instead of, say, the sides) until she finally unearths the fated locker #2006 near the back of the school.
Of course, even this dark corner of the school is occupied. A twiggy girl with a fall of blush pink hair and a cozy-looking pullover stands by the locker beside Applejack's, face screwed up with a shiny squint.
She shuffles a little further to the side when Applejack pulls up to her locker, an action the farmgirl chooses to ignore. "Howdy," she flashes the wet-eyed girl a smile.
The girl startles, shoulders shooting up to her chin. A few beats pass without an answer, and Applejack considers calling the interaction a nonstarter and moving on.
Then, quietly..."Hh...hi," the softest voice Applejack's ever heard is followed up by a sharp, wet, hiccup.
Again, Applejack chooses to ignore it. Aiming to encourage a continued conversation, the farmgirl says, "Looks like we're lockermates,"
A beat. Another beat. A hiccup. "....yeah,"
She's answering- that's gotta count for something! "Ah'm Applejack. Jus' transferred this year. Are y'all, uh. New as well?"
This time around, the interim is only a couple seconds. "N-no. Well, I....no,"
Applejack perks up. "That so? Maybe y'all can help me get a round a l'il," she chuckles, fiddling with her padlock. "Honestly, Ah don't know what's up 'n what's down in this place. The tour they gave us was clear as mud inna dry creek bed,"
The girl stills her trembling comb-through of her locker. "Y...you want me to...?"
Realising her offhand comment hit too close, Applejack reels it in. "Easy does it, sugarcube," she pitches her voice a little softer. "Ah was jokin', mostly. Ah'm sure Ah'll be able to find my way 'round with some practice," she pops her locker open at last, checks it for anything unscrupulous, then shuts it once more.
Stepping back and stuffing the paper back into her pocket, Applejack sets her mental sights on her next destination. "Was nice meetin' ya...oh, Ah plum forgot! What's yer name, sugar?"
The girl shudders, ducking her head even further. Applejack can just barely hear her mumbling something beneath her breath.
"Pardon?"
A little louder, this time: "...tter...shy..."
Huh. Probably not getting any better than that. Unwilling to cause her locker-mate to implode from anxiety this early into her first day, Applejack makes do with what she's got. "Err, right. Nice meetin' ya, Shy!"
The farmgirl turns tail and starts in what she hopes is the right direction. First time back in a classroom since I wore pigtails and was missing one of my front teeth. Applejack takes a steadying breath. Can't be all that different, right?
•
Wrong. So, so wrong.
Applejack spends the entirety of her first class(english with Mrs. Quill) poring over their surprise reading comprehension. According to Mrs. Quill, the best way to gauge a student's skill is to catch them off guard and see how they react. So the moment Applejack and her unsuspecting classmates walk in, she hands them two sheets, one with the wordiest text the farmgirl's ever seen, and the other with the most questionable questions.
'What emotion does the author aim to invoke in the reader with the line her eyes were like twin headlights ?' Applejack squints at her paper like it did her wrong. What, was she a car?
She leans back in her seat, allowing her gaze to wander the room. For the most part, her classmates seem to be in the same boat as her; staring down their sheets in befuddlement. The boy sitting to her right cradles his head in his arms, and to her left, a girl mutters hushed prayers.
"20 minutes left, everyone," Mrs. Quill sounds especially delighted. She prowls through each row, occasionally slowing down to peer over a student and read whatever their writing. When she walks past Applejack, she pauses. "Remember to double-check your answers,"
Dagnabbit, Applejack lets her pencil drop, and her now free hand comes up to tug down her Stetson. Come on, AJ, think! Eyes like headlights...well, headlights help ya see what's ahead, don't it? They clear up what's dark...
"Pssst."
Applejack startles. She whips her head around to face the source of the voice.
The first thing Applejack registers is her hair. No way that's natural. A motley combination, each colour occupying its own clear section. Her messy bangs go from yellow, to orange, to red, while the rest of her shoulder-length hair represents a rainbow's colder colours. Colourful strands flick up at random, lending her a windswept look reminiscent of a wild horse's unbroken mane.
"You got an eraser?" The rainbow-haired girl holds up a tiny pencil and shows off its missing bottom end. "Mine's shot,"
Applejack blinks. "Uh," she picks up her own worn eraser, the same one she's had since the seventh grade, and sets it down on the girl's desk. "Here ya go,"
"Sweet," Rainbow-girl snatches up the eraser and grinds it into her page. Within seconds, she reduces half of Applejack's trusty eraser into puny pink shavings. When she's done, she holds it out and flashes the farmgirl a grin. "Thanks, cowgirl,"
What. Applejack takes back her considerably reduced eraser and turns to face the front once again. That was...something.
"15 minutes left," Mrs. Quill, who seems none the wiser to the little eraser exchange going on near the back of her class, points a lean finger towards the wall clock.
Applejack returns her focus to the question that's had her stumped for a third of her first proper High School class. 'What emotion does the author aim to invoke' ? Suddenly, the answer is crystal clear.
Confusion.
•
Her next couple classes are a good deal less stressful than English. Her second period is chemistry, wherein Mr. White talks their ears off about some uncertainty principle before handing out a Get To Know You sheet. Next is a class Applejack's actually looking forward to; woodshop!
Of course, they don't start on any projects for the first day. Instead, they go over safety requirements that high schoolers should definitely know by now. Don't stick your hand in the klin, don't stick your hand in the bandsaw, don't stick your hand in your mouth...Applejack's excitement gradually veers into concern for the cognitive functions of the student body.
Alas, the bell rings once again, signalling lunch. Applejack tucks her safety guidelines brochure into her backpack(never to be seen again) and makes her way out of the classroom, though not before wishing Ms. Tool a good day.
Boy am I starving! The farmgirl tugs either strap of her backpack, weaving through the river of mingling students. Just gotta find a microwave to get my stuff warmed up...
" ' Scuse me," she squeezes past a particularly bunched-up group of girls and comes upon a door labelled Foods Room. Seems about right.
Smiling, Applejack raps the door in quick succession. After a moment, she hears footsteps from inside. The door swings open and thwap!
"What in tarnation-!" Applejack stumbles out of the stranger's grip, bumping into something solid behind her.
"Whoa- who are you?" In the dark of the room, Applejack can hardly make out the person's features, but she can hear their voice loud and clear. A distinctly feminine, bubbly voice that reminds the farmgirl of the cartoons her l'il sister insists she's too mature to watch anymore. "You're not Dashie!"
Suddenly, the person pinches Applejack's cheeks. "Or are you Dash in disguise!"
"What- no! No, Ah'm not," Applejack pulls the touchy hands off her face, eyes blown wide. "Ah'm Applejack, not Dash, or Dashie, or what have you!"
"Hmmm," The person, who's a tad shorter than Applejack if her spatial awareness is to be trusted, begins circling Applejack like a vulture around its prey. "You're definitely taller than her,"
The person reaches for Applejack's Stetson, earning a yelp. "Hey now, keep yer mitts off the hat!"
"Oopsies!" The person steps back. "Sorry about that, Not-Rainbow Dash! Love the whole southern thing you got going on, by the way!"
Applejack's starting to get dizzy, here. "Uh- thanks? Listen, Ah was just-"
"Looking for a place to warm up your food?" The strange stranger clasps their hands together with a giggle. "Yeeah, I probably should've guessed! Dashie's not all that good at impressions anyway, so no way you're her! Hehe, don't tell her I said that,"
"....how did y'all..." Applejack squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. Not worth it, AJ. "Ok, well, if ya don't mind, Ah'm jus' gonna-"
The lights flick on, washing the dark room in an aggressively vibrant yellow. The person's features come into focus and Applejack finds she looks exactly like expected. Magenta hair curled jubilant as any storm-whipped sea, wearing a white blouse, and a ruffled baby pink skirt over a truly audacious pair of dessert-themed tights. Her platforms are pink(go figure) and ribbon-toed.
This girl looks like she jumped right out of one of those Ani-may cartoons! Applejack blinks a few times as her eyes adjust to the confrontational light. "Y'all're like a walking dessert catalogue,"
"Awe, thanks!" The girl's smile grows. "You're looking pretty great yourself! Now, just over here,"
She skips towards the back of a room, where a whole mini kitchenette sits unattended. "We've got all your munchy needs over here- a fridge for perishables, an oven for cooking, a sink for washing away evidence annddd, ta-da!" She presents an older looking microwave like game show host revealing prizes to the audience. "A microwave!"
Applejack draws closer, giving a short, baffled chuckle. "Slap my knee 'n call me Sally, y'all do have a microwave!" She sees the girl raise her hand and quickly backtracks. "Not literally!"
"Oops, silly me!" She says a little too innocently. "Well, go ahead! I'm sure you've got something super duper tasty in there,"
"Sure do," Applejack shucks off her bag and zips it open. After some rifling, she pulls out a red-lidded container. "This here's mah Granny's specialty Hoppin' John. She only makes it when Hoppin' John turns up in her dreams,"
The girl leans in as Applejack pops the container open. One whiff of the cowpeas and rice and she gasps pleasurably. "Wowzers, I haven't seen a Hoppin' John since I was back on the farm!"
A bell goes off in Applejack's head. "Hold on there- y'all aren't sayin' you're from a farm, are you?"
"Eeeyup!" The girl pulls open the microwave preemptively. "Born and partially raised on a rock farm in the middle of nowhere!"
"No kiddin'," Applejack's gaze roves over the girl's outfit once again. " 'Scuse my rudeness, but y'all don't look it one bit,"
"Oh, I know! I moved here about..." she counts her fingers, "6 years ago, when I was 10! I guess the farm-ier parts of me went away with time,"
That admission brings a chill up Applejack's spine. She doesn't respond for a second, putting her container into the microwave and setting the time for a minute 30. With time, huh...
"Say, you're from a farm too, aren't 'cha?"
Applejack turns to face her, hooking her thumbs into her jeans pocket. "Sure am. Y'all heard of Sweet Apple Acres?"
"OMIGOSH," the girl gasps, hands flying to her mouth. "No way!"
Applejack chuckles a bit at her reaction. Celestia was serious when she mentioned the students' love for their cider. "Yes way. S'pose y'all're a fan of our cider?"
"No!" Applejack frowns at that. "I mean, yes! But that's not why I OMIGOSH'd!"
The farmgirl cocks a brow. "Ah'm lost,"
"I mean- Dashie's gonna freak when she finds out! Oh, this is great! The greatest news ever, even!"
Applejack watches her bounce up and down, combing through the conversation in her head to pinpoint at what point she lost the plot. The microwave gives a shrill beep, and she fetches her now steaming container from inside.
"Well, thank ya kindly for yer help..." Applejack nearly facepalms. "Shoot, Ah forgot to get yer name. Guess my manners're still rusty from..."
Turning around, Applejack realises she's alone in the room. "...huh,"
•
The rest of lunch goes off without a hitch. Applejack finds a nice bench out front and eats her food there, soaking in the warm midday sun. A little ways off, a few students throw around a football. At some point, one of them chucks it straight toward Applejack mid-bite. She drops her fork just in time to catch it one-handed.
"Easy there," she calls out, flinging the football back their way. "Don't wanna go 'round concussing folks on the first day,"
"Ack- my bad!" The guy who caught the football shares a look with his fellows. Then, he jogs up to the bench. "You're good, right?"
Applejack smiles. "Right as rain," she holds out a hand. "Ah'm Applejack,"
The guy accepts her handshake, albeit with a much looser grip. "Glass Jaw. You new?"
"What clued ya in?"
"You're sitting on the Bang Bench,"
Applejack glances down at the bench, then back at Glass Jaw. "The what now?"
"Uh- Nevermind," he coughs. "So! Applejack, you planning on joining any clubs?"
Suspicion brewing from Glass Jaw's nonanswer, Applejack treads carefully. "Why do ya ask?"
Glass Jaw sets his hands on his hips, ditching his earlier cautious smile for a full-fledged smirk. Consequently, Applejack realises his jaw is sharp enough to pierce concrete. "Simple; you'd be perfect for the team!" His friends(who Applejack hadn't noticed approaching) nod from behind him. "I know talent when I see it, and the way you caught our ball just now was nothing short of talentful."
"Shucks, don't think anyone's called me...that, before. But-"
"Ah-ah-ah! I know what you're gonna say; you're too busy to join a club, right? You got too many responsibilities?" He scoffs. "Nonsense! Listen here, Applejack, there's like ten athletic people in this school, and half of them are in the soccer team. Our football team is on the rocks! And what's CHS gonna do without football, huh?"
"Better."
A new voice, that's not really new on account of Applejack having heard it just an hour or two beforehand, joins the fray. If his scandalized gasp is anything to go by, Glass Jaw's familiar with the voice, too. He whips around with murder in his eyes.
"Rainbow Dash,"
Not the most creative name, Applejack looks at the not-so-newcomer, who stands with her arms crossed and her lips quirked in what Applejack's realising is her signature grin.
"What's up, Glass Jaw? You tryna convert newbies, now?"
"Shut up, Crash!" "Yeah, nobody was talking to you!"
Glass Jaw snaps his fingers, silencing his friends, or lackeys, at once. "I got this, guys," he steps forward, straightening up to make the most of the inches he's got on Rainbow. "Lookin' especially butch today, Rainbow. You get a haircut?"
Rainbow doesn't flinch or cower. Instead, she presses forward, eyes asparkle. "Opposite, actually; I've been letting it grow out," she holds up her hand to flippantly observe her short nails. "Aerodynamics, 'n all that. Wouldn't expect a doofus like you to understand,"
" 'Doofus'? That the best you got, fruitcake?"
"Oh I've got better alright," she lowers her voice to a stage whisper. "Twinkie."
Glass Jaw's smug look drops right of his face. He snarls like Winona when she spots a squirrel, and Applejack decides to put an end to...whatever this is.
"Hey now!" She stands up as everyone's eyes flicker back to her. Applejack wouldn't be surprised if they forgot she was there altogether. "Both of y'all, simmer down. No need to be nasty,"
Rainbow blinks those confusing eyes of hers. Then, she frowns, refocusing on Glass Jaw. "I got this handled, cowgirl, so you can run off now,"
....WHAT. Applejack ditches the whole peacekeeper thing in a split second in favour of fixing Rainbow with a wicked glare. "Ah beg yer pardon?"
"I said, I got this. Ass Jaw is all talk, anyway,"
Glass Jaw goes beet red. "I'll show you talk, Rainbow Crash!"
Applejack can feel her eye twitching. Who does this gal think she is, telling me to run off like I'm some damsel? "Ain't nobody gonna be showing anyone anything," she steps forward, pushing up her hat. "Glass Jaw here was just asking whether or not Ah'd join his club, no 'converting' involved." She zeroes in on Rainbow. "And Ah don't need any defending, thank ya very much,"
Turning on her heel and gathering her backpack, Applejack bids them all a terse goodbye and marches off.