“I don’t want to talk to you any more.”
It took a few seconds for Scootaloo to understand. The words didn’t make sense. Not in that order. Not in that voice. When they finally sank in, her ears went flat and she barely managed to murmur a surprised, “What?”
Thistleroot rolled his eyes and said, very slowly as though speaking to a particularly dim foal, “I don’t want to see you again.”
They were standing outside the school, just before classes started. Thistleroot had been waiting for her on the lawn.
“Why not? What’s going on?” Scootaloo asked with some difficulty. Invisible iron bands wrapped around her chest, making it hard to breathe.
“You’re dangerous,” Thistleroot answered. “I’ve been in danger more times since meeting you than all the rest of my life combined. Cultists, changelings, breaking into a pony’s house? No thanks, I’ve had enough.”
“That’s not...” What, exactly, Scootaloo thought. Isn’t fair? It was completely fair, and rational. Sure, Thistleroot wasn’t always the most rational pony, but he was smart. He could see the risks of being near her, and if he didn’t want to take those risks, nopony could force him.
“But, isn’t that a little extreme?” Scootaloo asked throw a forced smile, as though the two were sharing a joke. “I mean, if you don’t want me dragging you into anything, that makes sense, but what about just talking here, at lunch?”
Thistleroot watched her for a few seconds before turning away. “You’re damaged goods, Scootaloo.”
Scootaloo’s heart hammered against her chest. “What?”
“It’s stamped right there on your flank,” Thistleroot said, pointing.
“My cutie mark doesn’t mean anything like that,” Scootaloo protested.
“Yeah? Would Applebloom agree?”
Scootaloo winced, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth, right?” he said. “I could piece together that much from our little chat. What happened between the two of you.”
“Nothing happened,” Scootaloo insisted, front legs bent as though she wanted to fold in on herself to escape.
“Because you never let anypony in.” The words rang with in her ears, cutting her more deeply than any knife could. Applebloom had said the same thing.
“I have put my tail on the line for you, Scootaloo. I helped you break into Star Shine’s place, dug up information, gone to CMC meetings and fake dates, listened to your fears and heartache, and you still can’t be completely honest with me.”
“Why are you doing this?” Scootaloo asked. Wasn’t it enough to just leave her like everypony else? Why did he have to make it hurt more?
“Because, I was attacked yesterday, and barely managed to get away,” Thistleroot said. “Just for being your friend. Even after everything I’ve done for you, you couldn’t warn me. You couldn’t tell me the truth about why the changelings want you. You were too scared of what I'd say, right?”
Scootaloo’s heart beat so quickly it hurt.
“You’re still doing it. You won’t trust anypony with the truth, even if they might get hurt.” He turned away and started toward the school.
“It’s not like that.”
“Save it for somepomy who cares.”
*****
“Scootaloo?”
“Go away,” she mumbled from under her pillow.
Applebloom nudged the bedroom door open, glancing in worriedly. “Rainbow Dash bought take-out. Are ya hungry?”
“Go away,” she repeated, louder.
“Ya need to eat something.”
“What do you care?” Scootaloo asked without looking up.
“We’re worried about you. You’ve been in here since yesterday, haven’t said more than ten words in all that time. If ya need to talk to somepony—”
“Even if I wanted to, you’d be the last pony on my list,” Scootaloo snapped, flinging the pillow across the room. Applebloom flinched, but it flew wide. She didn’t respond, just shook her head and left.
Ah, so glad to see you’re finally taking my advice.
Scootaloo turned over to face the wall. “I don’t want to talk to my real friends right now. What makes you think I want to talk to some magical side effect?”
What real friends?
Scootaloo fell quiet, eyes closing.
I told you before, he’d figure it out eventually. Face it, Scootaloo, the only one who will never leave you? It’s you.
“Why are you even doing this? Is it your goal to cause me as much pain as possible before the princess manages to get rid of you? I already know what you’re going to say.” She rolled over, jabbing a hoof at the empty room. “Nopony likes you, Scootaloo. You can never have a real friendship. You should be locked away in Tartarus. It’s the same manure I’ve been thinking for ten years.”
Ohoh, Scootaloo, you don’t—
“No, cut that out. You aren’t Discord, stop talking like him. In fact, just stop talking at all.”
Do you really think—
“Yes, I really think I can tell you to shut the hay up. The only reason you’re here is because somepony was messing with my head. There’s no reason I should even be listening to you.”
Scootaloo paused, and was treated to glorious silence. She allowed herself a short smile. It may have been a small victory, considering everything else going on, but she’d take what she could get. The smile faltered, and with a resigned sigh, she pushed herself off the bed and trudged to the door. She made her way slowly to the living room, where Applebloom sat on the couch with a box of fried oats in front of her. “Applebloom?”
“Yeah?”
Scootaloo sat down next to her. “I think we should talk.”
*****
A dark red unicorn mare sat at her desk, skimming silently over the week’s newspaper. No mention of changelings or the CMC. Celestia was keeping everything out of the public view. As she flipped the page, a shadow slid across the desk, blocking her light.
Rose Thorn glanced up from her desk at the gangly unicorn staring nervously. “Yes?”
“Uh, Miss Thorn, it’s about the filly. The one you brought in last week.” The unicorn flicked his tail, glancing away.
“What about her?”
“Well, we think the spell is slipping.”
Rose Thorn set her newspaper aside and fixed him with a steady stare. “And?”
“Well, uh...” he stammered, not prepared for such a question. “It’s... it’s a problem, isn’t it?”
“Well, if the spell fails, we’ll all be sent to prison for a very long time, won’t we?”
“Uh, yes?”
“Then yes, I’d say it’s a problem.”
“Well, yes ma’am,” he said, staring at his forehooves.
“I shouldn’t have to tell you that, should I?” she asked as calmly as ever.
“No ma’am.”
“And I shouldn’t have to tell you what to do.” She leaned forward, putting her snout on her hooves. “Fix it.”