//------------------------------// // THURSDAY, JUNE 29, 1:33 PM // Story: Analemma, or A Year in the Sunlight // by Dubs Rewatcher //------------------------------// Not to be dramatic, but if anyone ever asks me to write an essay on Renaissance-era political alliances again, I’m gonna drown myself. Just gonna hook a cinder block to my leg and jump into the public pool. Like how Queen Luscious VII drowned her husband in a public bath to assume the role of absolute monarch and begin the Fifth Ruby Peninsula War. …And if I ever make a comparison like that again, someone needs to hit me with their car. I refrain from saying this to Mr. Lacuna’s face as I hand him my final exam, give a quick “Thank you!” and powerwalk out of the classroom.  As soon as the door closes, I laugh and throw a few punches in the air. Thank the Goddess for carrying me through the hell that is finals — and for not making any of my tests too hard. When it comes to stressing out over grades, I’m generally a “C’s Get Degrees” kind of girl. But my college of choice — the Manehattan Institute of Science — is probably expecting a bit more than the bare minimum. College. The thought still makes me stumble. A year ago, I was certain that I’d be ruler of Equestria by now. I had my mind set on another universe, not university. No friends, no bandmates. I couldn’t walk down this hallway without stopping to make someone’s life hell. I spent more time talking to myself than anyone else. But the sky shines brighter now. The air tastes sweeter. I sing, laugh, smile without struggle. Fantasies made real. A lot can happen in a year. No one knows that better than me. And 365 days from now, who knows where I’ll be? Hopefully not at the bottom of the public pool. For the last time this school year, I shut my locker. I’ve pulled out all the forgotten study sheets, taken down the photos and flyers and half-assed scribbles of my friends and I fighting monsters. After giving it one last glance — I’ve become so damn sentimental these days — I walk away. Mr. Lacuna’s exam was the last one on my calendar, and the very last exam of the entire CHS school year. My third-period classmates and I should be the only students left in the building. That’s why my eyes light up when I step outside and see Twilight standing next to the Wondercolts statue. She’s wearing a cute summer skirt that shows off her legs and her hair is untied, spilling over her shoulders and down her back. The school year’s over, but she’s still reading a textbook. It’s thick enough that she has to hold it with both hands, and she’s totally engrossed. No one else could look this good with their face shoved into a physics textbook. But as pretty as she is, she’s still just Twilight Sparkle. Still a total dork. Just like me. “Is that...?” From the entrance staircase, I squint my eyes tight, turn my hands into binoculars. “Is that the Twilight Sparkle? Lead singer of the Rainbooms? Smartest girl in town?” Twilight looks up, a bit startled — but then smiles. She starts squinting too and adjusts her glasses. “Is that Sunset Shimmer? Best guitarist in the country? Gamer Queen?” I laugh and jog over to her. “That’s a new one! And what does it make you? Gamer Princess?” “I like to think of myself as more of a Gamer Secretary of Education,” she says with a quick curtsy. “How’d the test go? Did you remember Archduke Stormhill’s Thirteen Decrees?” “At least ten of them. But what about you?” I say, nudging her. “Didn’t you finish your Spanish exam, like, three hours ago? What’re you still doing here?” I eye her textbook. “And what’s with the Physics book? You don’t even take Physics.” “I will next year! Never too early to brush up on the fundamentals.” She holds her textbook tight against her stomach, rocking on her heels. “And I was waiting for you.” I blink. “Why?” Very gracious, me. “I mean, it’s sweet as hell!” I sputter. “But you didn’t have to stand out in the sun for three hours just for me.” “Don’t worry, I’m wearing sunscreen. And besides, after that exam” — she reaches into her backpack and pulls out some green plastic — “I figured you’d be hungry.” She hands me a granola bar. It’s oats-and-honey flavor. I gape for a second before taking it and thanking her — right on cue, my stomach grumbles. “I swear, you know me better than I know myself.” “Final exams burn a lot of calories!” she says. But then she looks away. “Also.” “Also?” “Also,” she says, digging her toe into the concrete, “you’re still the only person I know who has a copy of Tirek’s Revenge. Can I come over and try the campaign?” I grin. “Sí!”