I’m not a wealthy woman. Maybe that’s why, when I look up from the map on my phone and realize I’m standing in front of Twilight’s house, my knees nearly buckle under me.
To be honest, it’s less of a house and more of a mansion. It’s got stained glass windows, ivy-covered marble columns, perfect pink-and-purple paneling, a finely manicured lawn. Sharp spires stick straight into the sky, their black iron cutting against the white clouds. It towers above the street and every other home on the block.
In the back of my mind, I always knew that Twilight’s family had some money. After all, she and her brother both went to Crystal Prep, trust fund central. But seeing her castle of a home just makes me think of all the crappy apartments I’ve hopped between since coming here, and a familiar sort of fire burns in my gut.
It’s the same burn I felt the first time I saw Princess Twilight. The same burn I felt watching Celestia pull off the most stunning spells while I was stuck practicing fundamentals. The same awful and uncontrollable burn that I felt nearly every day as a foal, passing through endless crowds of normal, happy families.
Jealousy.
I swallow, trying to snuff it out, but it keeps boiling in my stomach. So I just take my stupid centering breath, force myself towards the front doors — even they’re decorated with fancy pink stained glass and wood-carved patterns — and jam the doorbell. A low-toned bell rings somewhere inside the house and echoes through the wood.
Thirty seconds crawl by. I tap the doorbell again, hear the same booming bell, and wait another minute.
Twilight told me she’d be home. But there’s still no answer, and all the windows are dark. No cars in the driveway either. Did I miss her?
That’s when I notice the cobblestone path leading around the back of the house and through a picket fence gate (it’s purple too). The gate is locked shut, but it doesn’t take much effort to reach over it and undo the latch just by feel. Not the hardest lock I’ve ever picked.
As the door swings open and I walk in, it occurs to me that I could have just called her instead of breaking into her backyard.
Eh. We’ve got opposable thumbs for a reason.
And sure enough, as soon as I round the corner, I see Twilight. She’s sitting down in the grass next to some sort of little pool, surrounded by textbooks and notebooks. Spike is curled up in her lap, asleep — until I clack my boot too hard against a cobblestone and his eyes snap open.
He leaps off Twilight’s lap, barking his tiny purple head off, and Twilight almost falls over trying to spin towards me. Her notebooks and pen go flying across the grass.
I put my hands up. “It’s just me, bud!”
Spike blinks a few times, rubs his bleary eyes, and then gives me a smile — at least, as close to a smile as dogs can give.
Twilight finally looks at me and lets out a long exhale. “Oh, gosh, Sunset! Spike got so upset, I thought you were some sort of murderer.”
“Sorry about that,” Spike says, walking up and nuzzling my leg. “I thought you were the mailman.”
“It wouldn’t have been an appropriate reaction then, either!” Twilight chirps, nailing a perfect impression of Principal Celestia. Spike gives a sad little whine, ears dropping low — I swear he knows how cute he is, the little mutt — and waddles back over to her. I follow close behind.
“Hey hey.” I plop down in the grass next to Twilight, and as soon as I cross my legs, Spike hops into my lap and curls up all cozy. Again: He knows. “What’s up? Getting ready to ace all your finals?”
“Don’t jinx it!” Twilight leans over to collect the items she threw, then sits back up and passes me a half-empty bowl of popcorn. “What about you? You didn’t tell me why you wanted to come over.”
“Crap, sorry,” I say, covering my full mouth. I wipe the popcorn grease off on my jeans, open up my backpack, and pull out a few sheets of paper. “You missed practice, so I wanted to give you the new lyrics Fluttershy’s been working on. They’re pretty good, though she lays it on a bit thick with the butterfly metaphors.”
Twilight takes the lyric sheets. “I should be the one apologizing for skipping rehearsal. It’s just, between finals, and everything with Juniper Montage, and Timber — I needed some quiet time. Was anyone mad?”
“Nah, of course not.” Rainbow Dash did whine a bit at the start, but as soon as I reminded her she could take over lead vocals again, she shut up. I grin and look around the yard, lined with bright flowers and fresh vegetables. Compared to the droopy ferns I’ve got at home, it’s a utopia. “Hell, if I had a backyard like this, I’d spend the whole day out here too.”
That gets a tiny chuckle out of her. “Thank my mom — she works from home most days, so this is basically her office. She does all the gardening and beautifying.” She turns to look at the big pool of water in front of us. “Personally, I like these guys the best.”
I squint to look into the dark water, and gasp when I notice the five colorful koi fish swimming along the bottom. They’re bulky but graceful, dodging past rocks and plants and each other with ease.
“Whoa. You never told me you had a bunch of cool fish!” I lean back and gesture to the mansion. “You never told me about any of this! Your house is amazing, Twi.”
“It’s… a lot.” She reaches up and starts fiddling with a lock of hair. “I think your apartment is pretty great too. I’d love to have a place of my own.”
I wish it wasn’t my own sometimes. I haven’t lived with someone else since I was a filly, and even then, I could have left, never come back, and nopony would have noticed.
What is it like to have a mom who’s always nearby, making things pretty and loving you? A dad? What is it like to have someone waiting for you to come home?
I guess I used to have Celestia. But then I stabbed her in the back. Fat chance she’s thinking of me anymore, let alone waiting for my return.
She must see the hesitation on my face, because she leans closer and says, “I mean it, really! Your apartment’s super nice.”
“Even if it’s a five-floor walkup?”
“Even if! Climbing up stairs is good for the heart.”
“If you say so,” I say, shrugging. Why can’t I accept the compliment? Why do I have to snap back like this? “It’s definitely nicer than the places I used to live.”
She frowns. “In Equestria?”
“No, here in Canterlot City.” She doesn’t need to hear this. Don't be such a sad sack! “I only moved to the place I’m in now back in February. Before that, I lived in this really crappy building on the other side of town. I picked it because rent was really cheap, but my apartment was in the basement. Didn’t even have hot water half the time.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Twilight cringe at the description, but her smile comes back quickly. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.”
“You’re sure?”
“Well. No. No, I’m not.” Her smile sags a bit, and she keeps playing with her hair, twisting it around her thin fingers. “By the way, can I ask you something? It’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”
The disclaimer sets off alarm bells in my brain. “Sure,” I make myself say.
“How,” she starts. She pauses, and I see the gears turning behind her eyes, probably trying to calculate the least offensive wording possible. “How do you afford rent and food and clothes and all that? You don’t have a job, do you?”
Everyone asks this question eventually. I hate answering it every time.
“It’s a long story,” I say, waving my hand and hoping she’ll drop the question. But I should know better — that just makes her lean in closer, ready for a thorough explanation. She’s even stopped twisting her hair, and has both hands folded neatly in her lap. If her curiosity wasn’t so endearing, I’d go nuts.
I take a long breath. “In Equestria, the currency is called bits. They’re coins made of pure gold. When I jumped through the portal, I brought about 300 bits with me, which isn’t much. I figured it’d last me a month, but it turns out that on Earth—”
“Gold is worth exponentially more,” Twilight finishes. She’s nodding along with the story. “How much did you get for them?”
“Enough to keep me alive for four years.” I run my hands along Spike’s back, trying to focus on his plush fur. “With enough rationing, at least. I thrifted my clothes, rented that awful basement apartment.” Don’t say it. “Shoplifted. Sometimes.”
She doesn’t react. Just more nodding.
“But around the time that Princess Twilight came here and, y’know, everything happened, I was running out of money. And things got sorta tense for a while.”
Understatement. I was on my last $100 when the Battle of the Bands rolled around. I’d started selling my things, skipping meals, missing rent payments. I subsisted on Pinkie Pie’s food-filled sleepovers. The few jobs that worked with my school schedule didn’t want to hire a depressed teenager. Anxiety haunted me every day, and its roar sounded like the growl of an empty stomach.
She doesn’t need to know that.
“So what did you do?” Twilight asks. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” I say, putting my smile back on. “Around the start of the year, I told the Princess what was going on, and she loaned me another 1000 bits. That’s enough to last a long time.”
Twilight’s eyes go wide at the number — but then sharpen. “Wait. She loaned the money to you?”
Holy crap. How does a girl with absolutely busted vision always manage to see through me like this?
“Okay, she meant it as a gift, not a loan,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But I’m not a charity case. I’m gonna pay her back someday. Even if she’s a powerful alicorn princess who can definitely afford it.”
She puts her daggers away. “I was about to say — I know we’re technically different people, but forcing you to pay the money back doesn’t sound like something I’d do, even if I were royalty.”
“Good point.” I throw my hands up a bit and let them fall limp onto the grass. “So, that’s my story. Make sense?”
“It does. You’ve lived a pretty fascinating life, huh?”
“That’s one way to put it.” Not the phrasing I’d use.
She scoots a bit closer to me. “We’ve known each other for months, talked to each other almost every day. And there’s still so much about you I don’t know!”
That’s how it should be. I shrug and grab another handful of popcorn. “I’m sure there’s stuff about you I don’t know either. Like your fancy house.”
“It’s not that fancy.”
I shoot her a look, and she sends it right back at me. When a few seconds pass without either of us backing down, she stands up, walks over to the house, and kicks the foundation. A beat later, two roof shingles crack off and tumble to the ground, shattering. She picks one of them up and walks back to me. It’s covered in moss and mildew.
“Nice party trick,” I say. “Do you kick your house a lot?”
“Only when I’m showing off to my friends,” she says, tossing the tile to the side. “It might look good at first glance, yeah, but it’s falling apart. My dad inherited it from my great-grandmother, and it’s been like this for as long as I can remember.” She motions to the sliding backyard door with her head. “I’d take you inside, but my mom would kill me for bringing guests over without cleaning first.”
I nod. The envy in my gut fades away, only to be immediately replaced by a new sort of sickness. Twilight’s life isn’t as good as I thought, and that makes me happy? What kind of friend am I?
“I’ll admit that the koi pond is a bit bougie,” she says, smiling at the water. “My dad actually wanted to get rid of it a few years ago. But it’s my favorite spot in the world. It’s the only place I always feel calm.”
We watch the fish glide by, their silver scales shining in the afternoon sun. Occasionally one stops and turns to us, and I swear it’s staring me right in the eyes, like it can see through me even clearer than Twilight can. But then it swims away, while I just sit statue still. The pond’s water filter gurgles gently but relentlessly, flooding my thoughts.
“These fish have it made,” I say. “Got cute girls watching over them, not a worry in the world. Wish that were me.”
“Same.”
If I were still a pony, my ears would’ve perked up at that. I just smile to myself. “I guess it’d be a bad idea to hit them with Equestrian magic and give them sapience, huh?”
Twilight shakes her head. “Definitely. Spike already doesn’t like them — I doubt that giving them a way to lob slurs at one another would help.”
We grin and start coming up with imaginary animal slurs. Ass Sniffer. Sardine. Landlubber, because the koi fish are also pirates for some reason. Both of us are giggling at each one, but then Twi leans down low and in a near perfect Spike impression growls, “Chum.” It hits me like a roundhouse kick, and I fall back into the grass, laughing my head off.
On my lap, Spike wakes up and whips his head around. “What happened?”
Now Twilight breaks out laughing too, tipping over right onto her stack of textbooks. We lay together in the grass, and our cackling echoes through the neighborhood.
I stretch my arms out like a snow angel, as far as they can go, and close my eyes. A moment later, I feel Twilight’s palm fall onto mine. She squeezes me tight, and I squeeze her right back. Her hands are impossibly dainty, impossibly soft. I keep my eyes closed. The laughter dies down, and we’re quiet, listening to the birds chirping in the trees.
My thoughts swirl together as seven hours of school, two hours of rehearsal, and the horrendous early Summer humidity take their toll. Koi fish are swimming through my head.
But they scatter when Twilight softly says, “Sunset, can I tell you something sort of personal?”
I can’t open my eyes, but I murmur, “Yeah.”
Silence, but for the tiny pop of Twilight opening and closing her mouth.
“Did you know that I’m autistic?” she asks.
That opens my eyes. She’s still laying in the grass like me, hand in mine, staring up into the sky, expressionless.
“I didn’t,” I say.
“Well, I am.” Her hand is shaking. “I don’t usually tell people about it. I feel like they always treat me differently after finding out. Like I’m weird, or a little kid or something.”
She looks at me. “But you’re my best friend. And I trust you. And I wanted you to know.”
My heart beats faster. How should I respond? Tell her I think she’s awesome? It’s true, but is it patronizing? I could ask if there’s anything I can do for her — but she doesn’t necessarily need help, does she?
She’s still staring, face tight, waiting for something.
So I just do the last thing that sticks in my head: I squeeze her hand again and say, “Thanks for telling me. You’re my best friend too.”
If the wide smile growing across her face means anything, I’d guess it means that I got it right.
And it’s true. I can’t think of anyone I love spending time with more than her. She gets me like none of the other girls do, sees through my bullshit like no other. Likes me even though I’m a hot-tempered, jealous wreck. I just hope I don’t screw it up.
“You know,” she says after a moment, sitting up again, “my parents aren’t going to be home for a few more hours. And the mosquitoes will be out for blood soon. Do you wanna come inside and help me study?”
“Hell yeah.” I sit up and lift Spike, dozing again, off my lap. He doesn’t even wake up. “I gotta get some work done on the yearbook, too.”
“You’re still not done? Finals start in a week!”
“It’s almost ready, I swear!” I start counting off with my fingers. “I just gotta find spots for the Track Team and Mineral Appreciation Society, finish up the superlatives, find the class photos for Blue Note, Soarin, and…”
My brain stops short.
Twilight leans in. “And?”
“And.” For a second I can vaguely see their face, but the picture burns out in milliseconds. And the name is nowhere to be found. “And someone. It’ll come back to me when I see it.”
“Sounds like a lot to me.” Twilight stands, smoothes out her skirt, and lifts all her books in a single telekinetic bubble. She’s getting really good at that. “Why don’t we start there? You can drill me in Chemistry later.”
“You sure? I heard that this year’s Chem exam is gonna be really hard.”
“I’m sure.” She turns to the house, but casts me a smirk over her shoulder. “The exam might be hard, but I’m harder.”
We stare at one another.
Her smirk wilts and her face goes bright red. “That’s not what I meant to say,” she mutters, power walking away.
I try to call out “No comment!” but I’m too busy doubling over in laughter again.