Sunset Shimmer had already been suspicious when her father picked her up from school, so when he turned onto a street leading outside the city, she immediately called him out.
“Where are you driving?” she asked.
Her father raised an eyebrow, seemingly contemplating his response, before answering, “We’re heading to Crystal Peak.”
Sunset took a deep breath. “We’re not going on a mountain hike today!”
“Who says that?” he asked calmly with a suppressed grin.
“I do! I just got out of school!”
“Well, if you’re hungry, we can always stop at a restaurant.”
Sunset groaned, knowing from experience that arguing with her father would be futile. Instead, she crossed her arms and turned away, resting her head against the window. “No need for a meal.”
“Don’t worry, I packed some sandwiches just in case you change your mind,” he assured her.
“Of course,” she muttered, slipping on her earbuds and cranking up the volume of her music to drown out the radio.
One of the things Sunset loved about the trail was how it became more challenging the more it progressed, creating an intriguing competition of strength and endurance. However, today, she wanted none of that. All she desired was to go home, lock herself in her room, and stay there—maybe play some guitar, maybe let the music blast through her speakers, or maybe waste her time scrolling through the internet.
Unfortunately, she couldn't do any of that with her father worrying about her fitness.
“No phones,” he instructed sternly as Sunset slung a backpack over her shoulders.
“But—”
“We never take our phones with us, Sunset, and today will be no different.”
“Okay, boomer,” Sunset muttered under her breath before tossing her phone into the car.
“I heard that,” her father retorted.
Step by step, Sunset trailed closely behind her father, lazily dragging the walking sticks along without much interest in her surroundings. The scenery, though undoubtedly stunning, failed to captivate her. It was anyway more enchanting in the peak of summer when the sky was cloudless, and the sun’s rays danced upon the deep blue sea.
With no music to distract her, a sense of unease crept over Sunset. She realised that this hike wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision; her father wanted to talk with her.
If it were up to Sunset, she would turn around and head back to the car. She knew the way as well as she knew the contents of her bag, and at sixteen years old, she believed she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions.
Yet, she refrained from doing so simply because she didn’t want to engage in an argument about the merits of “hiking for health” or being encouraged to “leave her room once in a while.” It was easier to go along with her father’s plan and wait it out.
Fortunately, the only questions he asked were if she needed a break, to which she always replied with a firm “no”. They must have been hiking for at least an hour when Sunset felt her legs burn and her breath growing ragged. Sweat dripped from her forehead, but when her father once again inquired about a break, she clenched her teeth and shook her head.
Taking a break would only mean her father would ask questions.
“Not gonna lie, I’m impressed,” Sunset’s father remarked, taking a seat on a nearby bench. “Two hours of nonstop hiking until the very end.”
Sunset brushed off the praise, settling down beside him and exhaling with relief at the chance to rest. Her lungs burned, her muscles throbbed, and she knew she would be feeling the stiffness tomorrow.
“Here, you’ve earned it.” He extended the sandwich box towards her.
She eagerly took it and ate its contents without hesitation. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was.
“No water?” He chuckled, producing a bottle and opening it for her.
Silently, Sunset ate and drank, while her father leaned back, gazing out at the park below. The breeze rustled weakly, causing Sunset’s sweaty body to shudder with a slight chill.
The anticipation of the impending questions prevented Sunset from fully relaxing. Why did her father insist on this? Couldn’t they have had the same conversation at home? What was the purpose of climbing up here?
Minutes stretched on, yet her father remained silent.
Sunset resented his ability to be so patient. Didn’t he have better things to do? She recalled moments when he would wait for months just to secure a discount on certain items or spend hours troubleshooting their malfunctioning washing machine instead of calling a repairman.
Fed up with the stifling silence, Sunset rose to her feet to prepare herself for the hike back down.
“Sit,” her father commanded.
Sunset rolled her eyes but reluctantly obeyed. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked, her tone laced with annoyance.
“What do you think?”
Sunset groaned. “Of course to interrogate me. You tore me out so I won’t argue back.”
“Hm,” he replied.
Restlessly tapping her foot on the ground, Sunset pressed, “So, which questions do you want to ask me?”
“Straight to the point, just like your mother,” he chuckled. “But since we’re here, how’s school? Is everything alright there?”
“You can’t be serious,” Sunset retorted, clenching her fists. “All that hiking just for that question?”
“It's a valid question,” her father replied calmly. “The last time you shared anything about it was a month ago.”
“It’s the same,” Sunset huffed.
“Anything else new?” he inquired.
“No,” she replied curtly, waiting for another probing question, but her father remained silent. And yet, when she rose to her feet, he gestured for her to remain seated.
“What do you want?” Sunset demanded, her voice filled with frustration. “You already dragged me up here.”
“I want you to talk about what is truly bothering you,” he replied in a calm tone.
“Nothing is bothering me. Everything’s fine,” she insisted.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, that’s your problem, not mine,” Sunset retorted, crossing her arms and turning her attention to the scenery before her. Normally, she would have been entranced by the beauty of their surroundings, but right now, she didn’t even notice it.
“What is it about your doppelgänger that is truly bothering you?” he suddenly asked, catching Sunset off guard. How did he know?
“I… There is nothing,” she stammered. “Why would I be bothered by her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the one practising the band’s songs, mimicking the guitar solos and listening to them on repeat.”
“I’m…” Sunset rubbed her arm nervously. “I’m just jealous of her talent; that’s all.”
“You’re jealous because the other Sunset is better than you?” he inquired, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
“Yeah. She has a better voice, better music…” Sunset pressed her lips together, her unease growing.
“Sunset, look at me,” her father said firmly.
Reluctantly, she turned her gaze to meet his, his expression serious and searching.
“Are you seriously trying to tell me that you isolate yourself in your room for weeks because someone who looks like you is more skilled with her guitar?”
“Well—” she began, but he interrupted her.
“And let me remind you, she sounds exactly like you, so don’t tell me she has a better voice. When you first discovered the Rainbooms, you were ecstatic. You felt like you were part of a unique phenomenon, where even the names aligned. And now, suddenly, you’re envious of her musical abilities?”
Sunset swallowed hard. “Yeah…”
“Sunset, you just hiked with me for two hours, delaying this very conversation as much as possible. You’re too stubborn to let a doppelgänger bring you down. If she truly was better than you, you would be glued to your guitar, determined to surpass her in every aspect. So, what is it about her that you’re jealous of?”
Sunset’s jaw dropped. Was she really that transparent? Or did her father understand her better than she had anticipated?
“How did you figure it all out?” she asked.
“I’ve raised you since you were little, and you’re a lot like your mother, whom I’ve known even longer,” her father replied, sighing as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “That’s why I'm so worried about you. You’re too proud, too stubborn to let yourself be brought down. So, what exactly is it about her that troubles you?”
Sunset lowered her gaze, her lips pressed together.
“I’ll keep anything you tell me between us,” he added. “Or you can choose to share it with your mother, but I don’t think you want that.”
A soft chuckle escaped Sunset’s lips. Indeed, her mother wouldn’t be the right person to confide in—not with the mistakes she had made.
“It’s… her friends,” she muttered.
Closing her eyes, she waited for her father’s response, but there was only silence.
Sunset mustered the courage to continue, “When I see how she sings and plays with them, when I watch her vlogs…” She took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. She wouldn't allow herself to break down in tears. “...she’s so... happy. She doesn’t fear judgement or being ridiculed. She trusts them with everything, and they have so much fun together.”
A single tear escaped her eye, and she quickly wiped it away.
“You told us that you have friends at school too,” he reminded her.
“It’s… different.” She went quiet.
Her father sighed and stood up, walking in circles before her.
Unable to contain her emotions any longer, Sunset burst into tears. Perhaps what she told him would be enough. After all, it was possible to feel jealous of good friends, right?
“How different?” he probed.
Sunset didn’t reply.
She couldn’t.
“Sunset, look at me,” he said.
Sniffling, she wiped her teary eyes and met his gaze.
“How many of your classmates’ accusations are true?” he asked.
There it was—the question she had been dreading.
Whenever that question had been asked before, Sunset had always lied immediately, but something inside her didn’t allow it anymore. Instead, she averted her gaze, prompting her father to release a sigh. It was brief, but she could hear the disappointment echoing in it as he turned away.
The façade of their good girl has crumbled.
“There are some serious accusations among them, Sunset,” he said. “So you better tell me which ones are true.”
Starting to sob, Sunset struggled to find her voice. How could she have allowed things to escalate to this point? Why had she been so blind to the consequences of her actions? Did it really take someone who looked just like her to make her realise what she had been missing?
Her father continued, “Bullying juniors for their lunch money. Blackmailing the cheerleaders with compromising photos. Damaging school property and framing someone else. Were all of these accusations true?”
Sunset remained silent.
“Do you want me to go on with the other dozens of accusations? I haven't even touched upon the more serious ones, like allegations of selling cigarettes.”
Overwhelmed with shame and regret, Sunset buried her face in her hands and wept. She had spun such a deep web of lies around her, she should’ve seen it coming that it would all unravel at some point, but she insisted on keeping it up. But now, here she was; her father disappointed, and her being sorrowful for how satisfied and happy her life could’ve been if she just did what her parents raised her to be.
Her father sat down beside her, offering her a handkerchief. She took it and wiped away her tears.
For a while, there was nothing but the sound of Sunset’s sobbing, enveloping them in a heavy silence. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath as if acknowledging the weight of their conversation.
Finally, Sunset took a deep breath. “I… I don’t know what to do.”
“You do know, Sunset,” her father replied. “But you’re afraid of the consequences.”
“If I admit everything, I’ll become a nobody. I’ll be mocked and abandoned by my peers. Nobody will trust me anymore, and those who followed me will turn their backs.”
Her father raised an eyebrow. Sunset could feel that he wanted to comment on that, but didn’t.
“And my mother,” she continued, “she defended me heavily against the principal, believing that the students were jealous of my popularity. It would be humiliating for her to face anyone at school again.”
It was this support, the people who stood by her, that had given Sunset a false sense of invincibility. She had believed she could manipulate and control others without any consequences. It had been all too easy to pull the strings, forcing people into compliance to protect their embarrassing secrets.
“I can’t help you with that,” her father shrugged, to which Sunset turned her gaze to him.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice with a mixture of confusion and fear.
“I promised that our conversation remains between us, and I’ll keep my word. Besides, you’re old and smart enough to understand why it must be you who confesses, don’t you?”
Sunset sighed, nodding in reply. “And if I would keep the lies, you really wouldn’t tell anyone?” He grunted, to which Sunset added defensively, “I’m just curious.”
“You won’t be able to, even if you tried,” he responded. “You'd be getting in your way now.”
How on point he was again. She remembered how she had hesitated to punish a junior who dared to defy her authority the previous day when she saw his friends standing up for him. It reminded her of the unwavering support her doppelgänger received from her group of friends, a support she couldn’t claim for herself.
She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“It will be hard, but you’ll still have your family supporting you, may it even just be getting through your first step of self-improving.”
Sunset gazed at the breathtaking view before her. The deep blue sea danced with the wind, the trees swayed in harmony, and birds soared overhead.
At that moment, Sunset felt a sense of freedom and relief, as if a burden she had carried for far too long was finally lifted.
“What about my punishment?” she asked.
“You’ll get enough of it once it’s all in the open,” he replied. “For now, let’s make our way back down the trail.”
Sunset nodded, a soft smile gracing her face. “Thank you so much for everything.”