“No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Wallflower!” Rainbow exclaimed, ripped the pencil from me and began to scribble, muttering aloud as she wrote. “The goal against Shadowbolts was mine. Velvet scored against Wondercolts Juniors!”
I didn’t resist, letting the captain of the soccer club change my notes. Her teammates weren’t here, so there was no one else who would fight against Rainbow’s decision.
“See? This is much better for the yearbook!” Rainbow gave me my notes back with a proud smile. “The one and only awesome Rainbow Dash saving Canterlot High from embarrassing losses!”
“But that’s not what happened,” I reply. “I was there when you missed—”
Rainbow put her hands on my mouth, looking around to see if anyone had heard it—despite the two of us being alone in the room. “Let’s, um, not talk about it, okay?” she asked me with a nervous laugh.
I rolled my eyes but nodded.
“Perfect! Just write exactly like I did and the team will be satisfied.”
I watched as Rainbow turned on her heels and left the room, her walking being more like a winning dance. I had a sneaking suspicion she’d been talking more about herself than the team.
With a sigh, I put the note into a folder and reviewed the conversation. It was like I’d expected, Rainbow Dash trying to dictate what events should and should not be published in the yearbook, but could I allow that? As the representative of the Yearbook Committee, I could straighten Rainbow’s twists easily.
And yet, I was worried about it. If I told the truth rather than the story Rainbow wanted to spin, what would she do after she saw the results? I had allowed her to dictate to me what to write, which only showed how weak-willed I was.
I’d messed up once again. I should’ve taken the pencil away from her and told her that I wouldn’t change the facts to make her look like the hero. Now Rainbow knew how easily she could push me to do whatever she wanted.
Reaching into my bag, I took out the Memory Stone and erased the conversation from her memory. A relieved exhale escaped me and I, with a relaxed mind, went onto the next club.
The school cafeteria was a place I dreaded to be. It wasn’t that bad things happened there, but rather the creeping realisation that everyone had at least someone to talk to—except me.
Sometimes, I tried to change it. I’d sit on an available seat and listen to the ongoing conversation, trying to be part of it. However, it had always resulted in using the Memory Stone.
It didn’t mean that I stopped trying. Seeing Sandalwood and Sweet Leaves (the “eco-kids”, as some would call them) talking eagerly, my interest spiked and I, seeming uninterested, sat at the same table.
“We shouldn’t interfere!” Sweet said firmly, pounding her fists on the table. “Nature knows what’s best for itself!”
“But the fungus is a foreign species!” Sandalwood replied calmly. “I get what you’re saying, but we risk it pushing out the native species.”
“And with what, Sandalwood? With pesticides?”
“There are natural ways to fight them, like limes.”
As the heated discussion went on, I tried to get from context which region they were talking about—most probably the school entry zone, where I had noticed fields of mushrooms emerging.
Caught up in their topic, they didn’t pause to acknowledge me, continuing on and on about whether to interfere or not. As a gardener myself, I believed in changing nature to match one’s vision, which went against their values—making it difficult for me to speak up.
“They’re not an invasive species; scientists aren’t worried about them!” Sweet said, standing up from her seat and waving her arms around with no awareness of her surroundings.
“Because they appeared only recently!” Sandalwood countered. “We don’t know for sure if they’re safe!”
“But that fungus usually enters into symbiosis with—” Sweet’s flailing arm knocked over my cup, causing the drink to spill out onto the table. “Oops! I’m so, so sorry…” She and Sandalwood took the few napkins they had and began to wipe.
“I’ll get more napkins,” I said and left the table.
How did I mess up even before going into a conversation? I should’ve known to not put my cup this close to Sweet with her fidgety arms, but no; instead I’d focused on attempting to be part of their discussion—which I only barely understood anyway.
After the table was dry again, they didn’t remember the accident had ever happened.
Having one meal together was a set tradition in our family that my mother wouldn’t ever allow to be broken. However, with my father’s work shift, it meant that we would eat late in the evening—which I didn’t mind; I never went to bed early anyway.
She always asked the same questions. ‘How was school?’ ‘How did the day go?’ ‘Did something new happen at work?’ Once either my father or I answered the usual ‘fine’ and ‘nothing new,’ my mother would move on to gossip about anything she heard from others. Working at a kindergarten, she would never run out of things to say, and today was no exception.
“Have you heard what’s happening downtown? Apparently, there’s a bunch of young teenagers renting out flats there. Without their parents!” She raised her eyebrows judgmentally and gave a loud sigh. “One can only wonder which type of delinquents they are.”
“Isn’t there an exchange student program at the university nearby?” I asked, earning a piercing gaze from my mother. “Some girls at school had their cousins move there.”
“Exchange program or not, these people have way too much time on their hands, drunkenly wandering the streets and pestering young children and old couples,” my mother went on. “If any of your friends invite you to visit their ‘cousins,’ if they even really are cousins, refuse politely. There is nothing good to learn from them.”
“I will,” I replied, not wanting to bother arguing with her. Not like I had any reason to wander downtown anyway.
“Darling, please,” my father said. “Our girl has become old enough to decide what is best for herself.”
“As long as she lives under my roof, I will protect her from bad influence,” she responded firmly. “This city has been going downhill for years, with more bad people moving in. Just like our neighbours. Have you heard that Cloud was shouting at his children? Who knows what kind of abuse these kids go through.”
Letting my bag fall on the ground, I took a deep breath and looked around with a smile. This spot behind the parking lot was perfect for the garden club, all the better for being a place no one ever went to.
I put my gloves on and went to work, digging up a hole for a new plant. It would take months for this place to become how I envisioned it, but I liked it for this exact reason. Just me by myself, no awkward conversations I’d mess up, and no need for the Memory Stone.
Here, time flew by fast. If it wasn’t for the need to go home, I would’ve spent an eternity here. Shaping nature was relaxing and enjoyable, and even when I was forced to leave, the sight of how much progress I made was enough to give me a good mood for the rest of the day.
The sounds of steps coming nearer ripped me from my thoughts. Looking behind, I saw Trixie approaching and reached for my bag, dragging it close to me.
What was she doing here? Who in their right mind would walk behind the parking lot? While Trixie was known for her eccentricity, I still couldn’t make sense of it. I reached into my bag and grabbed the Memory Stone, just in case.
However, Trixie had her focus elsewhere, glancing frequently behind herself. Before I was able to make myself noticed, Trixie pulled out a rabbit plush from her hat and tossed it on the bench.
“Trixie doesn’t get it, Fiddle,” Trixie said with a sigh.
I bit my lip, knowing that it was too late to get out of it peacefully. How hadn’t Trixie seen me yet? So far, she had her back to me, but all it would take to notice me was to turn around. Maybe I could silently climb into the bushes? I didn’t want to use the Memory Stone until it was absolutely necessary.
“How can anyone not see her Greatness and Powerfulness?”
I rolled my eyes as I slowly moved step by step out of her sight. This was typical Trixie.
“Sure, the Rainbooms have actual magic, but isn’t the illusion of magic much more impressive?”
Reaching the bushes, I moved a few branches away.
“What did they do to earn it, unlike Trixie? Didn’t Trixie practise every trick for years? Doesn’t she spend all her savings for the best gimmicks and outfits? And what did they do? Holding hands together and shouting ‘Friendship’! Anyone could have been in their place!”
Having prepared an escape route, I began to slowly extricate myself, but slipped and fell to the ground, snapping branches.
Despite not seeing Trixie, I could feel her stare on me.
“And who are you?” she asked me threateningly.
I slowly crawled back and revealed myself with a nervous grin. “I’m the gardener here.”
“The gardener?” Trixie asked, raising an eyebrow. “You look more like a student to Trixie.”
“I’m a member of the school’s garden club,” I explained.
Trixie crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you tell Trixie you were here?”
“I wanted to,” I replied, raising my arms in defence. “But then you started speaking with… um…” I gulped upon seeing Trixie clenching her fists.
If there was a good time to use the Memory Stone, it was now. However, I’d have to reach into my bag, and Trixie seemed furious enough to jump at me at any quick movement. Would I ever not mess up?
Suddenly, Trixie exhaled and sat down at the bench. “Whatever, now you know. Not like I can do anything about it.”
I blinked. Out of anyone, I didn’t expect Trixie to rein herself in.
“Fiddle’s been with me since I was four,” Trixie continued, chuckling softly. “I remember my first magic trick, pulling her out from a hat. Of course, now I don’t play with her anymore, but with no one wanting to do anything with me…”
Trixie didn’t finish her sentence, but I knew what she meant. So many times I tried to talk to anyone about the Memory Stone, hoping to get help for the mess I created for myself. But every time I brought it up, they looked at me like I was crazy or dangerous, forcing me to erase the memories.
“I, um, promise I won’t spill about Fiddle,” I stammered.
“It’s not about telling anyone about her,” Trixie responded, staring at the ground. “It’s what I said about the Rainbooms.”
“What do you mean?” I asked her curiously.
“Don’t you get it?” Trixie asked, her voice with a hint of anger. “The Great and Powerful Trixie, feeling jealous because of real magic other girls possess? How she craves the recognition these seven get?” She let her face fall into her hands. “Now I must look like a complete fool.”
I sighed. Another awkward memory of me; it was best to erase the memories of this conversation. However, as I reached into my bag and took out the Memory Stone, an idea came into my mind.
“Hey, Trixie,” I said. “I can, um, give you an offer.”
“An offer?” Trixie asked, looking up immediately with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you trying to blackmail Trixie?”
“No!” I retorted. “Don’t take it like that! What I mean is that I could, um, be like Fiddle for you.”
Seeing Trixie’s weirded out expression, I slapped my forehead and groaned. Better to not beat around the bush.
“This,” I showed her the stone, “gives me the power to erase any memories. My offer is that you can open up, tell me whatever is in your heart, and then walk away, knowing that I’d have no memories of this conversation anymore.”
Trixie blinked before her eyebrows suddenly furrowed. “Are you kidding me?”
I laughed nervously. “What do you mean?”
“Trixie just told you how she envies the Rainbooms for their magic—” Trixie took a step towards me. “—and your response is to tell her you have magic also? Are you out of your mind? Now give her that!”
Raising her arms, Trixie jumped at me. It all went so fast that I didn’t react to it and fell with her to the ground. Luckily, I had the Memory Stone tightly enclosed in my hand that even Trixie’s attempts to rip it from me failed.
The Memory Stone glowed in a green light, and a moment later, Trixie stopped in her movements, staring at me with a confused expression. “What happened?”
“Um,” I muttered, trying to come up with a response. “You were telling me something that has been bothering you.”
“Yeah, the one thing with the Rainbooms,” Trixie replied. “Why am I on top of you?”
I didn’t reply, but instead detached myself from her.
“Trixie asked you a question!” Trixie said, her voice annoyed, as she stood up.
An idea came to my mind and I used the Memory Stone once again.
“Done,” I said.
Biting my lips, I closely watched Trixie’s expression.
“Done with what?” Trixie asked, tilting her head.
“Me forgetting what you told me,” I replied. “That’s what you wanted after all.”
“Trixie did?” Raising an eyebrow, Trixie rubbed her temples. “Yeah, she remembers that. But why does it feel like she forgot something also?”
“That’s, um, a side effect of me forgetting things. Some memories of yours are also erased, but that was agreed upon by us.”
“Hm.” Trixie took a close look at me, as I gave a nervous smile. Did she buy it? “Seems like it,” she finally said as she shrugged. “And did you forget about Fiddle also?”
As my reaction was to immediately move my eyes to the plush, I couldn’t lie about it anymore. “No, not yet. Do you want me to forget her also?”
“She does,” Trixie responded as she put the plush into her bag.
“But in return you’ll forget how I look and sound,” I added. “Otherwise it won’t work.”
“Do whatever you have to do,” she said and turned on her heels, walking away.
It took a while for me to process that my impromptu idea worked out. Did Trixie really just accept that she had told me her jealousy about the Rainbooms’ magic and I forgot it afterwards?
That raised the question if I should really follow the lie and erase my memories also. A part of me feared to mess with my own memories, but at the same time, I didn’t have to erase Trixie’s full memories of me—albeit still way too much.
No, I promised Trixie. She trusted me that I had no memories of her envy and her plush anymore, so I raised the Memory Stone one last time and erased the specific memories I had to do.
There are two kinds of substitute teachers: Those who know the subject and try their hardest teach about it, and those who let the students do whatever they want.
Ours was the latter, and while many cheered about it, I didn’t. I was sure that, by now, I had erased any last memories of myself from everyone. I was nothing more than a ghost to my classmates. They turned to each other, talking about different topics, while I could do nothing else but sit in my seat and let my head fall face-first on the table.
Were my attempts at socialising even worth trying? Why was I even here? In the end, nothing changed for me anyway. I could’ve just as well left Canterlot High and joined another school; I would be the same blank slate.
“Behind the parking lot?”
I looked up, my attention suddenly and completely on Rose, who had asked the question to Paisley.
“Yeah, Trixie said she met the fairy there.”
I blinked, confused by what they said. I clearly remembered only erasing Trixie’s memories of my look and voice, but she should’ve been aware that I was just another student.
“But we’re speaking about Trixie,” Rose said. “You know how she likes to make up stories.”
“It’s different this time—she really seems to think it’s true; she even threatened to beat up Micro Chips for asking for proof,” Paisley explained.
“But a fairy?” Rose asked, still doubtful.
“We have classmates who magically get pony ears and wings, we’ve had literal Sirens, we’ve had—”
“Fine, fine,” Rose interrupted Paisley with a groan. “Maybe it’s true, but I won’t just take Trixie at her word. What did the fairy do, anyway?”
“It just listened to Trixie and then forgot the conversation.”
If I hadn’t been as confused as Rose, I would’ve laughed at her perplexed expression. That part, at least, was what actually happened—I held my word and didn’t remember anything besides having met Trixie and tricking her into believing I gave her this offer. But how did Trixie spin the story into me being a fairy?
“I don’t get it either,” Paisley continued. “Trixie switches between the fairy having bad memories or having some sort of memory control.”
“But what’s the point?” Rose asked, rubbing her forehand. “The more you tell me, the more it feels like a fever dream.”
“Don’t you get it?” Paisley asked, her tone serious. “Imagine being able to talk to someone without worrying whether the person will remember it.”
“Are you sure you’re not going crazy?” Rose asked, scratching her head. “What’s the point of talking to someone if there won’t be any memories of it?”
“Because…” Paisley trailed off, biting her lips and looking away. Left unsaid was “because sometimes you just need to get it off your chest.”
While I couldn’t remember what exactly Trixie had told me, I was aware that it was something she needed to vent about, so I understood Paisley in that sense.
But how big was the probability that there would be more students who would seek the same? For a short moment, there was a pain written in Paisley’s eyes, a yearning for Trixie’s fairy to be true. It vanished the next second, as she shook her head and changed the topic, but I kept thinking about it.
What if more students came to me? Should I allow it? Or should I erase the memories of the fairy rumours Trixie was spreading here?
It was my first instinct. After all, Trixie was spreading a tale about me, and it would be awkward trying to explain how that part was all made up.
Unless…
I expected Peisley to appear in my garden. What I didn’t expect was that she’d be there before me, walking in circles with her head down.
How long had she been here? How much did she need me to be willing to wait for a “fairy”? Approaching nearer, I bit my lip in discomfort, hoping I wouldn’t mess it up as usual.
She was so deep in her thoughts that once she noticed me, she jumped up in surprise. Gathering my courage, I gave her a comforting smile as she looked at me with widened eyes.
“Sorry,” Paisley said, catching her breath. “I didn’t notice you earlier.”
“It’s alright,” I replied. “Why are you here?”
“Me?” Paisley looked nervously around, before sighing. “It… um, doesn’t matter. I should’ve known not to trust Trixie.”
I sighed in relief as she turned to leave. Maybe I should let the fairytale stay a fairytale. This way, my garden would be all my own without any disturbance, and wasn’t that what I wanted?
But then I saw Paisley’s plunged shoulders, her downward lips and her slow pace. She needed this, and I couldn’t let her down. There was nothing for me to lose anyway.
“You’re looking for the fairy Trixie mentioned, right?” I asked her in a friendly voice.
Paisley stopped in her movement before nodding slowly. “It’s, ugh, stupid. It’s just a hassle anyway.”
“Not as big of a hassle as adjusting to this world,” I lied as confidently as possible.
There it was. The stone was now rolling, and while I had the chance to let the stone disappear, I couldn’t restart the moment anymore.
“Adjusting to this world?” Paisley asked me before the realisation hit her. “Wait, you are the fairy Trixie mentioned?”
I nodded. “It’s, um, a complicated story, but in short, I was a fairy back in my world and turned into this after crossing the portal.” I pointed at my body, before chuckling softly. “At least I still have my power.”
Paisley kept staring at me, her mouth wide open. “You mean the… memory thing?”
“It’s a part that defines my species,” I explained. “We can take any memories of another in exchange for a part of our memories getting erased. Back in my old world, I abused it, and got punished with banishment.”
This “drawback” I made up was necessary. It would explain why no one would remember what the “fairy” looked and sounded like, while at the same time appearing as if I was less dangerous and couldn’t just erase anyone’s memories at will—a necessity with the Rainbooms around.
“Oh,” Paisley said. “So Trixie didn’t lie?”
“She didn’t,” I replied. “I don’t remember what she told me, and in return she doesn’t remember what I look like.”
“But didn’t she say you had big wings and were flying in the air?”
My eyes widened, as panic shot through my body. Of course Trixie would’ve described me like that!
Luckily, I caught myself in time and was able to laugh it off.
“She probably filled in the memories with her fantasy,” I said, which was technically the truth. “As you can see, I sadly have no wings anymore.” I moved my shoulders in circles, mimicking to remember them. “I miss flying around.”
“So it’s all true.” Paisley let out a relieved breath. “Do you, um, have anything against using your powers again?”
“Not if they are used to help others,” I responded with a smile. “Do you want to talk with me?”
She nodded slowly. “It’s, um, something I don’t want anyone to remember, but if I don’t say it, I feel like it would eat me up from the inside.” She let her face fall in her hands. “Ugh, sorry, it’s such a weird request.”
I put my hand on her shoulder, comforting her. “Hey, nothing is too weird or stupid. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d heard something embarrassing. Remember, any emotion you have is valid. I’m all ears for you, and whenever you want me to forget it, I’ll do it in exchange for my appearance.”
“Thank you,” Paisley replied and pointed at the bench. “Can we sit down? My legs are tired.”
“Wallflower,” my mother said to me, entering my room. “May I ask you a question?”
I looked up from my homework, trying to read her face. From the tone of her voice, she seemed worried, but her eyes didn’t show if she’d heard any of the rumours.
“Sure,” I replied.
“Is everything really alright at school? I know you say it is, but doesn’t someone usually invite you over to a birthday party around this time of year?”
Holding back the urge to bite my lips, I contemplated how to reply. There had indeed been a student (other than Pinkie, who invited everyone) who, over the past years, invited me regularly to her birthday: Mystery Mint. We weren’t close, and the only reason she knew me was us being seat neighbours in sixth grade. A very chatty girl who would consider anyone a friend as long as you’re friendly to her, and she had always kept me in mind even after our classes got separated.
I had always thought that my silence was awkward for her, so, for her sake, I’d had her forget about me.
“Mystery got sick,” I lied.
“Ah, right, the rocker girl,” my mother commented, nodding slowly. “Isn’t she in the Death Grinders band? What a name…”
I let out a sigh, knowing where this would go.
“It’s not like I don’t understand teenage rebellion,” my mother continued. “I was one myself once, but I never went as far as to get into a heavy metal band.”
“It’s a rock band,” I replied. “And the name was suggested by Cherry and chosen as a parody for the style of their outfits.” Mystery had told me so much of their band that I could talk about their history for hours—about their forming, their first songs or even the drama they had.
“Point being,” my mother said, “that one should never cross into smoking or drugs. You know how the performances of these bands usually go, with the crowd getting all crazy. Honestly, it’s best that she got sick and the party was cancelled.”
“Mystery promised herself that she’ll never smoke,” I said. “Her father got lung cancer from exactly that and barely survived it.”
“What a fate.” My mother rubbed her forehead. “A child should’ve never witnessed that. Is her father better?”
“He’s back to normal,” I responded, “and clean from cigarettes for a year.”
“That’s good. Take him as an example, Wallflower.” My mother looked at her wristwatch. “My oven!” she exclaimed and ran out of my room.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to my homework. My eyes were reading the words, but my mind was absent.
Mystery’s birthday was today. I expected to not be invited—it was better for the both of us. It would be awkward for me there anyway, as the rocker band would talk about their music and performances (which wasn’t my cup of tea) while I would be standing on the side with crossed arms, feeling sad that I would be alone by myself. Besides, Mystery barely knew anything of me even before the Memory Stone.
So why did not being invited hurt so badly?
The art club, as usual, neglected to tell me what to write for them in the yearbook by the deadline, so I had to reach out to them personally. Entering their room, I sat down on an empty chair, waiting for someone to be free.
My interest was piqued by seeing Sunset Shimmer drawing on a canvas—not because of what she was drawing, as it was just a simple sunflower, but how others reacted to it.
The painting was almost finished, and the other club members stood around, giving suggestions or praising how well Sunset had drawn it.
The longer it continued on, the more it enraged me. Clenching my fists, I wondered just why they supported the former bully in her art. Didn’t anyone remember her past mistakes? Didn’t anyone remember how she terrorised the school? Why did the students forgive her, while I, without any bad memories, was a nobody to them?
It was unfair. Sunset didn’t deserve good treatment. Why were my awkward moments punished so harshly, but her huge abuses were forgotten?
‘Maybe’ a thought came into my mind, ‘her good deeds should be forgotten, too.’
I turned my gaze to Sunset, who was presenting her result proudly as she gave the last brush on the painting. She was so unfairly happy. She would’ve deserved the punishment.
Standing up from my seat, I was about to leave the room—the yearbook wasn’t important anymore—but another painting caught my eye.
There was my garden, set with a colourful sunset that highlighted the different flowers and plants. In the centre was a bench, upon which rested a silhouette of a figure in green light. The wings behind the human body gave away who it was: the mysterious “fairy” in the garden behind a parking lot.
In that moment, my lips formed by themselves into a smile, and my anger vanished without me noticing it.
They appreciated me—maybe not as a student, but as someone they could open up to. After Paisley, several more students had come to me, each time requesting the same thing: that I forget what they told me.
Of course, some wanted me to erase some awkward memories of themselves from others, but I firmly refused, pretending the price to pay for this would be too high—I couldn’t and didn’t want this fairytale to be more than what it is now.
I turned back to Sunset, who posed for a picture with her painting. Erasing the good memories of her wouldn’t be right. She worked and fought hard to get to where she was now. She made friends with the Rainbooms, becoming a member of their band—what right did I have to take it away from her?
I had my own achievements, and I was satisfied with them. The students wanted and needed me, the same as I needed their seeking for forgetful ears. I wasn’t a nobody, I was the fairy behind the parking lot.
And no one would ever take it away from me.