//------------------------------// // 217 Prom Date // Story: Tales from a Con // by Admiral Biscuit //------------------------------// Prom Date Every morning, you wait by the window, your gaze mostly on the road but occasionally on the clock. Cornflower has told you that in Manehattan, ponies go to school on trams which are powered by leylines and magical fields and stuff, and that would be really convenient. Out here in Dodge Junction, you’ve got to hoof it every morning. Which is why you’re waiting: there have been a few days where she’s been delayed and arrived at school late, but for the most part she goes by regular as clockwork, and the two of you can chat and catch up on your way to school. You spot her approaching, and you slip on your backpack and go out the front door, meeting her at the road. The two of you nuzzle, and then fall into step together. “How’s your essay coming along?” you ask her. She shrugs. “Almost done, I think I’ll have it nailed by the end of the week. How about you?” “The same.” That’s not entirely true; it’s hardly begun, but you’ve always done your best work under pressure. At least you have a general idea where you’re going to go, and ‘fake it until you make it’ hasn’t failed you yet. “I’ll be glad when it’s done,” Cornflower says. “Last one of the year, isn’t it?” You nod. “Unless Miss Frost decides to assign another one.” “She wouldn’t, would she?” Cornflower frowns. “I hate mouthwriting, it’s so dumb. I wish we had a typewriter.” “We’ve got one, and you’re welcome to come over and use it,” you tell her.  “Really?” “Yeah, Mom needs it for work but she does most of her work during the day, so it’d be okay.” “You’re the best.” Cornflower nuzzles your cheek. “Hey, you ask anypony to prom yet?” “Well . . . not exactly. I’ve been dropping a few pointed hints, sort of dipping my hoof in the water and seeing who’s interested. There’s a couple of mares who might be.” “Raspberry isn’t one of them.” You turn and look at her. “Really?” She nods. “She said . . . well, never mind, I wasn’t supposed to overhear, she knows we’re friends. It wasn’t very nice.” “Fine.” You snort. “See if I send her a birthday card next year. What about you?” “Well . . . it’s the weirdest thing. Just on a whim, I asked Slate and he said yes.” You stop in your tracks. “Slate?” “Yeah.” Cornflower stops and turns. “Doesn’t he have a marefriend?” “Well, yeah.” Cornflower pauses as well, and turns to face you. “But he said she wasn’t going, wasn’t interested in it. I didn’t really mean to ask him specifically, it was sort of a friendly question. You know. ‘Hey, what are your plans for prom?’ And he told me that Toffee didn’t want to go but didn’t mind if somepony else went with him.” [CHOICE] >Tell Cornflower she’s being dumb (hero) >Wait for the fallout (chaos) [CHOICE A: Hero] “Are you stupid?” Cornflower’s eyes go wide. “How many times have you complained about your stallionfriend doing something stupid?” Cornflower shrugs. “A lot. ‘Cause stallions are stupid and we both know if you’re vague with your wording at all, they take it in the worst way possible. You got a crush on Slate?” “Well, he is cute.” “You want to fight Toffee for him?” “She said—” “He said she said.” You stomp your hoof. “She probably said something like ‘I’m not going to prom and you can do whatever,’ and she meant hang out with the boys or something. Or else she’ll change her mind when she finds a dress she likes. She didn’t mean invite some other mare to prom. Maybe that’s what he thought she said, but that isn’t what she said.” “I can’t tell him no, I already found a dress.” “You can tell him no. Come stag.” “I’m not coming stag; even if I don’t have a stallionfriend right now that feels desperate.” “It’s prom, nopony will care.” Cornflower rolls her eyes. “As if.” “Fine.” You lean down and snatch a wildflower off its stem. “Come with me.” “You?” You nod. “We’re friends, not—” “We’re friends,” you insist, tossing the flower at her. “So I’m not gonna let you get into a kicking match with Toffee. Especially not at prom, where we’re all supposed to be having a fun time, not starting drama for no good reason.” “Slate is kind of cute,” she protests. “So am I, and I clean up real nice.” “Ponies might get the wrong idea.” “They might,” you admit. “But at least you won’t be going home with shoe bruises under your dress.” [CHOICE B: Chaos] “Huh.” You’re friends, and even though you have a good idea this is going to turn out . . . interesting, you owe her one more chance to back out before the fun starts. “Never really pegged Toffee for the open relationships type.” “Neither did I,” Cornflower says. “Always thought she was jealous and clingy, that’s why I was caught by surprise.” “Yeah.” “I am having second thoughts, though. Do you think she really meant it?” No. “Well, she wouldn’t have said it otherwise, would she?” “That’s a good point.” “Stallions are dumb,” you remind her. “You’ve told me that more than once. Remember how . . . what’s his name, the last one you were dating—” “He’s not worth remembering.” Cornflower sighs. “Only another moon and we’ll all be graduated and won’t have to see each other every day. You’re right—I get to go to prom and I have a dance partner . . . you’re gonna be there, too, right?” You nod. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”