Chapter 2: Submediant Chord
Thorsday, October Fish, 2012, 9:00 am EDT
“So let me get this straight,” my sister Kay said over the phone. “You need a 'thumb buddy' to get you to the bus station so you can get to New York to deal with this pony mess?”
“Yes, exactly.” I said.
Kay groaned. “I'm coming over. No way I'm just going to take your word on it, not when you sound like I should be having you babysit Braden and be worried you're going to clean out my fridge.”
“Sis, we've already been over this. What more proof of my identity do you want? The time your entire softball team called me Payton for no good reason? Or the fight over MP3 players we had last year on the way to Florida to take care of Mom during her transplant recovery?”
“I'm still coming,” my sister barreled on, her tone brooking no interruptions, “even if it's just to meet the girlfriend you've met and somehow convinced to read from a script for some sort of prank. Don't think I can't hear you breathing over the speakerphone function. I'll be there in an hour. And Eljay, she sounds cute.” With that , she disconnected the call.
I sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “Of course she's cute, she's a perky pink pony princess.”
“Well, I don't blame her.” Mom said, her concern following a natural path in Cup Cake's face. “It is pretty ridiculous on the face of it, and you know your sister doesn't have cable.”
'How many of those grey hairs are Pinkie's fault?' I absently wondered. “Mom, you look a little put out. Let me get stuff from the cupboards, and why don't you try baking something quick? It might relax you.”
“Bucking HORSE!” Dad swore as the cable remote clattered to the floor. He blinked at the minced oath that came out.
“Do you know what channel you want?” I ask gently as I levitate the dropped device.
“Weather channel, please.” He sulked. “I want to know what to expect on the road. And turn it down, it's too bucking loud.”
I changed the channel and adjusted the volume. “There you go! I'm just going to see about our route on my computer and do some other stuff while we wait for Kay to get here.” I pause at the tight anger on dad's new face and flick an ear at the rattling of pots and silverware. “Why don't you help mom in the kitchen after you get what you want? It might help you get used to your new situation faster.”
Dad's grunt was all the answer I needed. I powered up my computer and created a Hotmail account and a Facebook for 'Mi Amore Cadenza.' I did some silly things, like the grand tradition of the Duckface into my dad's digital camera and set it as my profile pic. I checked Pinkie and Fluttershy's pages and stopped in shock.
Someone had shot Fluttershy.
Fortunately for my nerves, enough posts let me know that she was all right, but the grim Pinkamena photos in response shook me badly.
Still, with shaking hooves and a bit of strain from my horn, I posted on Fluttershy's wall.
“Glad you're all right, and that you met up with Pinkie. See you in New York! -- Mi Amore Cadenza”
I took a moment to gather my laptop and a few things that I could conceivably use on the trip. Unfortunately, none of my clothes would fit or even be marginally useful. So I mostly just loaded the extra space in my messenger bag with wall chargers, pens and so on.
I carried the bag to the living room and sniffed at the air. Apparently they'd spilled some vanilla in the kitchen. Ready to do my part to help clean up, I arrived to an amazing sight.
Apparently, having mom and dad do things related to their cutie marks had been a good idea. They danced around the kitchen, mixing, cleaning, and nuzzling each other. Dad had calmed down greatly, and they both seemed to have gotten over their fit of the clumsies. In fact, mom was putting Mrs Cake's body through a series of balance exercises that I had only thought Pinkie or maybe Applejack capable of. She had a cool cupcake pan spinning on her poll.
“Honey?” Mom asked Dad. “Can you get that cupboard open?”
“Right away, Sugar,” he replied and did so.
“Thank you, Kumquat!” She beamed at him, before getting a serious look on her face and peering at the top shelf.
“No problem, Blueberry!”
“Would you like me to help, Mom?” I asked from where I was standing.
“No, dear,” she said gently and stamped a hoof. I felt the shudder go through the building and a box of raisins tumbled from the cupboard. She hopped up and caught and balanced the box on her nose. “I got it, thank you!”
I smiled. “Good to see you're handling it well at the moment. Just... this should probably be your last batch, otherwise we won't be ready to leave when Kay gets here.”
“Of course.” I took a moment trying to find the spill; the vanilla scent smelled wonderful, but it was a little strong. Not seeing any puddles of extract on the counters or floor, I returned to packing, this time, trying to find things for Mom and Dad. I packed simple toiletries, like shower gel and shampoo, even though I knew there wouldn't be enough, or we'd go through it quickly.
It felt really strange for all of the packing for the three of us to boil down to my messenger bag for the electronics and a tote bag for the toiletries. As an extra precaution, I grabbed winter hats and scarves from the closet. The hats would probably work best for Mom and Dad, considering the long spear of bone and magically-laced keratin sticking out of my skull.
I walked back into my cluttered mess of a room and worked on loading my MP3 player with a good mix of things to help my parents get their minds off of their sudden change. It should help me too, but I had a strong feeling of purpose, being royal. Pretty pretty princesses were usually all flash and no substance. Cadance had a lot more willpower than one would expect, surviving those caves as well as she did.
I stumbled slightly, almost falling on my face, but I caught myself. 'Now, now, Eljay, you are royalty. Act like it. Grace and poise.' I thought. Regaining my smooth gait with a sense of satisfaction, I began to head to the kitchen to check on my parents again, when I heard my sister using her spare key in the lock.
I turned to the door and put a smile on my face.
“So, Eljay where’s this girl . . . friend . . .” Kay trailed off, her jaw dropped.
I impishly smirked and spread my wings slightly. “Hello, Kay. I told you it was me.” I turned my head to the kitchen. “Mom? Dad? Kay’s here!”
“Be right there, dears!” Mom caroled.
“B-but. B-but how?” My sister said, her hands covering her mouth in shock.
“Best I can figure,” I said with a hooded gaze, “magic.”
She frowned. “How can you be so flip? You changed into Lisa Frank’s top model!”
I couldn’t help it, I broke into giggles. Cadance’s voice made it sound like tinkling bells.
“Would you rather I make like Galadriel? ‘All shall love me and despair?’”
“I have no idea who that is.” She said, staggering towards the living room. “But if anything else, the weird references clinches you are who you say you are.”
She froze again as she turned the corner to the living room when Mom stepped from the kitchen, plate of cupcakes in her mouth.
Mom’s eyes lit up and she set the plate on the coffee table. “Kay! Would you like some cupcakes?” She trotted towards my sister, her slightly disheveled icing-swirl mane bouncing. She reared up and hugged Kay’s waist. “I’m glad you came so quickly, sweetheart!”
‘Huh,’ I thought. ‘Mom must have spilled some of that vanilla on herself.’
“There’s no way you can be hugging me like that,” Kay said dully, her eyes glazing a bit from the shock. “Horses’ forelegs don’t move like that . . .”
“Ponies.” Dad said as he walked out himself. He frowned, apparently wondering where his indignant tone came from.
I stepped behind my sister and gently nudged her to the living room and to the high-backed swivel chair Dad had originally used for his computer until he had to use a wheelchair.
“So,” I said. “Believe me now?”
Kay shook her head and absently reached for one of the cupcakes. It was obvious she was thinking. After the metaphorical gears ground for a bit, she gave me a sharp once-over.
“You’re not getting on a bus, Eljay.”
“What? I’ve got to get to New York and there’s no way I can afford airfare!”
My sister got shakily to her feet and walked over to me. She smacked my rump, right on the cutie mark. I squawked in embarrassment.
“Those legs mean you can’t sit in most commercial vehicles . . .” She smirked weakly. “. . . Sis.” She looked over to Mom and Dad. “They might, but not you.” She drew her hand in a tired arc down her face, before noticing the computer.
“You finally set up a Facebook account?” A playful tinge entered her voice. “It took getting turned into a pretty pink pony to get you into the 21st century?” A snort of disgust escaped her. “A duck face profile pic? We’re fixing that right now.”
With something to focus on other than the impossibility of what had happened, my sister quickly nudged the three of us into a ‘family picture’ pose in front of dad’s now unnecessary wheelchair and took a picture with the camera still attached to the computer. A few quick clicks later and my profile pic had changed.
My sister grinned in satisfaction and then clicked away from Facebook, bringing up Mapquest. “So where in New York are we going?”
“‘We,’ Sis?”
“I already told you you weren’t getting on a bus, you dipstick!” Her playful smile took the sting out of the insult. “And like you said . . .” She wriggled her fingers at me. “ . . . You need a ‘thumb buddy.’”
“All right. We’re going to an old shoe factory . . .”
A few minutes later, we were out of the apartment building and loaded in Kay’s Dodge Nitro. Mom was buckled into Braden’s booster seat, and Dad, being slightly larger, was buckled beside her. What baggage I’d packed was in the rear seat foot wells.
As for myself, I rattled my horn against the kennel cage separating the cargo bay from the passenger seats. “Attica! Attica!”
“Eljay, sweetie, it’s not that bad is it?” Mom asked, swivelling her head back to look at me.
“No, Mom, I understand why I’m back here, and the fleece blankets make it more comfortable than I was expecting, really. I'm just being silly.” With that I settled in for the start of the ride.
We pulled into the nearest Wal-Mart fifteen minutes later. After a brief discussion, we decided it was best for Kay to go in on her own, after she rolled down the windows. It was unseasonably warm, after all. As a kindness, she left the stereo on, and tuned it to the oldies station.
Of course, being the goober I was, I sang along with it.
“Yummy, yummy, yummy! I’ve got love in my tummy …” Of course, I got the song stuck in my head.
My sister came out soon after, with a couple bags and a wide grin on her face.
I didn’t trust that grin. Not. One. Bit. As well I shouldn’t have.
After she dropped her bags of snacks and toiletries into the footwells, she pulled out a rhinestone-encrusted T-shirt and a pair of scissors and smiled at me. A friendly argument and some wing and tail pulling later, and I was sitting outside the Nitro, in a hastily modified Trailer-trash Bling shirt that said “Princess,” faking a smile for the camera.
Fighting down my blush as I climbed back in so we could get underway, I muttered under my breath. “Yep, this day has been just perfect...”