//------------------------------// // SATURDAY, AUGUST 19, 2:14 PM // Story: Analemma, or A Year in the Sunlight // by Dubs Rewatcher //------------------------------// Pinkie is trying so hard to hold in her giggles that I’m scared her brain might pop. “I spy with my little eye,” she says through clenched teeth, “something super cute!” I’m 99% certain I know the answer, but I point out the window anyway. “Is it the dog in the backseat of the car next to us?” “Nope! But good try. He is an adorable lil’ pupper.” Right. I sigh. “Is it me?” “Yes!” She leaps forward, nearly breaking her seatbelt to hug me. The belt strains against her chest and throat, and it makes her sound like a happily suffocating frog. “It’s Sunset Shimmer, the cutest ponygirl I know!” “Pinkie, you’ve used me as your ‘I Spy’ target six times now.” “What can I say? You’re a looker!” She ricochets back into her seat, then reaches into the driver’s seat and taps her sister’s shoulder. “It’s your turn, Maud!” Maud doesn’t take her eyes off the road. “I spy something bituminous.” “Uh.” I look at Pinkie, who’s smiling back at me expectantly. I can see an answer bubbling behind her lips. “Can you define that?” “Something made of bitumen.” Right. I go silent, waiting for Pinkie’s bubbling answer to boil. It only takes a few seconds before she blurts out, “It’s the road!” Maud nods. “Correct.” Sometimes I forget that Pinkie grew up with rock farmers too. “Yippee!” Pinkie cheers and darts forward to grab my shoulders and shake me. “I’m the best spyer in the world!” With every shake I feel my gut juices gurgling and churning. We stopped at a roadside taco stand on the way here, and the Double-XL burrito I scarfed down feels like it’s reformed itself inside my stomach and started dancing.  Maud’s driving doesn’t help — she stops on a dime whenever we hit a red light, making us all jerk forward. We’ve been on this ride to Hoofington for Summer Sunfest for an hour, and I’m surprised her tires haven’t exploded yet.  I put one hand over my mouth to hold back a burp and push Pinkie back with the other. “You’ve got the eyes of an eagle.” She frowns for a second — I don’t need my gem to tell she’s imagining herself as a bird — then shakes her head. “Nah, I’m way more of a seagull. They get to eat hotdogs!” We hit a bump in the road, and my burrito jumps. “Don’t talk about food.” “Oof, feeling carsick?” Pinkie asks.  “Please don’t vomit in my car,” Maud says. “Not planning on it,” I say. She’s got great bedside manners, this girl. Pinkie pats my leg. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there. Then you’ll be too busy having fun to throw up!” A different, sharper kind of pain hits my gut. I snort. “Assuming Dash and Fluttershy even want to talk to me.” And Twilight. She’s texting me again, but still doesn't want to hang out. “Of course they do, silly!” She traces her hand up my leg, up my chest, and onto my shoulder. A calm breeze rolls through me. Her voice is soft as she says, “Fluttershy couldn’t stay mad at anyone, especially once they say sorry. And I know Dashie — she’s not upset. She’s just stressed and stubborn.” “She’s not the only one,” I say, thinking back to our argument. I’ve spent this week doing nothing but rehearsing, just to make it up to her. “The point is that they love you. And you love them!” She holds a hand over her heart. “And it’s like I always say: Love is all you need!” I raise a brow. “You come up with that yourself?” “I didn’t say that I came up with it! I just say it. A lot.” Pinkie leans over Maud’s shoulder, and for the twelfth time this ride, asks, “Are we there yet?” And for the first time, Maud says, “Yes.” In unison, Pinkie and I both press our faces against the windows to get a better look, then remember that you can roll down car windows and do that instead. Maud turns off the main road and onto a bumpy gravel path that leads toward some forested fairgrounds. I can smell the greasy food carts from here, and it’s doing wonders for my stomach. We’re in a rural town called Hoofington. It’s about half the size of Canterlot City, and only has a third of the population. Not much happens out here, but there’s some rich record producer who holds a big music festival every summer on the outskirts of town. It’s the one time of year when the town has more people than cows.  The only other things I know about Hoofington are that everyone drives a truck, the kids at Hoofington High are poster children for why anti-drug programs don’t work, and it’s where Timber Spruce lives. Fortunately, I don’t think those last two facts are related. Crap, Timber. He’ll probably be at the concert tonight. I hope Twilight doesn’t freak out. And I hope I can resist the urge to read his mind and/or strangle him. These last few weeks have felt like stepping from one pile of shit into another. Timber, Twi, Rainbow, Fluttershy — I’m on the outs with all of them. I’m supposed to be the kind one, the understanding one. The Friendship Chick. But right now I’m more of a wrecking ball, smashing my world apart without a care. I close my eyes to push back the nausea, and try to savor the last sweet wisps of Pinkie’s kindness still drifting through me. I hope she’s right about everyone forgiving me. No idea what I’ll do if she isn’t. Maud doesn’t bother to find parking. She pulls her blocky gray sedan up to the fairgrounds, takes out our bags and instruments with a single hand, then gives Pinkie a hug and drives off. Pinkie claims that she wanted to stay and see us play, but she has to get home for the “mid-summer sand census,” whatever that is. Even on solid ground, my stomach feels funky. The grease-tinged, humid air doesn’t help. I take a long swig of water, then sling my guitar over one shoulder and my backpack over another and walk on. Pinkie follows close behind, with a glittery pink suitcase and her entire drum kit balanced on her back. I glance at my phone, trying to compare the map Rainbow sent us to real life. “Dash said to meet up outside the New Artists stage. Any idea where that is?” “Hmmm...” Pinkie leans against me and smiles. “Probably twenty yards to our right!” “Where do you see that?” I ask, zooming in to try and find our current location. “Nowhere. But I do see Twilight and Fluttershy.” I look where she’s pointing. Sure enough, Twi and Fluttershy are sitting at a picnic table next to a ticket booth. Twi is reading, while Fluttershy is petting and chatting with Spike. Fluttershy. She’s spent the last year learning to love herself, working so hard to build her confidence. Then I screamed at her to shut up, and she looked at me with the same terror as she did when we were freshmen. I knew I’d have to face her again eventually. Now’s as good a time as any. Pinkie starts for me, sprinting ahead and yelling, “Hey besties!” “Good afternoon!” Fluttershy waves as we approach. “We were starting to wonder where you were.” “Sorry, traffic on the highway,” I say, smiling at her. I’m expecting her to frown and turn away, even cower, but she just smiles right back. Maybe Pinkie had the right read here. “Also we stopped to grab lunch.” “Tacos?” Twilight asks, peering over the edge of her book. “Yeah. How’d you guess?” She lifts a glowing finger. “You have salsa on your shirt,” she says, pulling a red glob off my boobs. I smirk and bite it out of the air — she gapes at me like I just picked my nose — and I cackle until my stomach cramps up again. “Are we the last ones here?” Pinkie asks. “Are we rotten eggs?” “You don’t smell like it,” Spike says, nostrils flaring. “You smell more like strawberries and stale sugar cookies.” Pinkie curtsies. “Rainbow isn’t here yet. She’s driving up after soccer practice.” Fluttershy gestures into the distance, towards Hoofington proper. “Rarity and Applejack came up earlier, but right now they’re back at our hotel.” Pinkie and I smile at each other. Twilight rolls her eyes and keeps reading. Spike looks between all of us, then shrugs and starts chewing his crotch. I slip off my guitar and bag and take a seat next to Twi. Before I can even ask about it, she slides her book over to let me read along. “So,” I say, scooting closer to her, “you all ready to rock tonight? Looks like it’s gonna be a big crowd.” “Not too big, I hope.” Fluttershy plays with her hair. “Not that I don’t want people to hear us play. But going from school concerts to Sunfest is a steep step.” “Steps don’t matter when you can fly!” Pinkie says, stepping onto the bench and leaping off. “We’ll just swoosh right over them!” “I think the ‘steps’ were a metaphor,” Twi says. Fluttershy nods. “No way! This isn’t a poem, Twilight.” Pinkie wraps a rubbery arm around Fluttershy. “Besides, loads of Canterlot folk come to Sunfest! We’re sure to see a few friendly smiles while we jam. I invited all the girls I work with at the diner!” “I guess you’re right,” Fluttershy says. A tiny blush crosses her cheeks. “I invited someone too. She—” “Oooooooooh!” Pinkie jumps to her feet and points at Shy. “Fluttershy has a girlfriend!” “What? No, I don’t!” Fluttershy’s blush heats up until her whole face is red. She turns to us, waving her hands in front of her face. “She’s just a friend! Who’s also a girl! That I like spending a lot of time with!” “A likely story,” Pinkie says, stroking her chin. While Fluttershy turns into a steamed tomato, Twilight and I giggle. I’m about to ask Fluttershy what her ‘friend’s’ name is when Pinkie spins and fixes her mischievous gaze on Twilight. “What about you, Miss Lovebird?” Pinkie asks, hands on her hips. “Timber is gonna be here, right?” Spike’s ears perk straight up, then fold back. If I were still a pony, mine would do the same. And on cue, I feel Twilight’s anxiety spike — but it’s different than before. Before, her anxiety was an electric buzz, like the fuzzy static on an old TV. Now it’s muted into something duller. An ache. And for once, her face doesn’t change at all. She keeps her level smile, looks Pinkie straight in the eyes. “Maybe! He’s been pretty busy lately, wrapping up the summer camp season.” Fluttershy gasps. “Oh, gosh. Summer really is ending soon, isn’t it?” “Time’s cruel march waits for no lady,” Pinkie says, shaking her head solemnly. Then she lights back up. “Anyway, where’s the bathroom ‘round here? The five quesadillas I had are going to war down there.” “I can show you,” Fluttershy says, standing up. “Twilight, Sunset? Could you watch our bags?” “What about me?” Spike asks. “I’m the guard dog around here.” “Sorry, bud.” I pick Spike up, cradle him like a baby, and scratch his tummy. “Ponies are the new dogs.” “That doesn’t make any sense,” he says, but sinks deeper into my arms. Shy and Pinkie leave, leaving us three alone. I retake my spot next to Twilight. “You’re lucky. No instruments to carry — just your sweet-ass voice.” “Trust me, my spine thanks me every day.” Twilight sighs and closes her book. “I hate to say it, but I’m sorta on Fluttershy’s wavelength here. This is a big concert, even if we’re just performing with other amateur bands. I hope I’m ready.” “Aw, of course we are! How many other garage bands can say their songs have literally saved the world?” I hold my head high. “We’re gonna rock it, and everyone’s gonna love us, and all the cute girls in the crowd are gonna throw us their underwear. Guaranteed.” “That sounds like a safety hazard in so many ways,” Twilight says. But then she looks away and simpers. “A fun safety hazard, though.” “That’s the spirit.” I offer her my hand, and we high-five. “I also wish we didn’t have to wait so long for the concert to start,” Twilight says, glancing over to the still-closed ticket booths. “More time to sit around just means more time to worry.” “Just gotta find a way to kill time, then.” I pull out my phone. “I just found this video on the history of competitive Death Dance character tier lists. It’s two hours long. Wanna check it out?” Twilight stares. “There is genuinely nothing I’d like more.” While I find the video, Twilight puts her book away and then cuddles up next to me. She smells like coconut sunscreen. With Spike on my lap, we’re a bundle of warmth and dorkiness. I need to get out of my own head — everything’s fine! Things are going great. No need to worry about anything. Except for the queasiness still lingering in my stomach. Goddess, I hope that goes away before we get on stage.