Cheerilee awoke on the couch in the same position she had fallen onto it yesterday afternoon. Only now, it was Monday morning, and Cheerilee found herself in a very unfortunate situation – she needed to go to work, or, more accurately, to school. She didn’t feel much like getting up at all, in fact, she would have been content to merely lie there on the couch and do nothing until fate took her. However, given the fact that school would be starting in merely half an hour, and that it was far too late to cancel, Cheerilee dragged herself off the couch and out the front door, ignoring the need for breakfast and a shower. Her mane lacked it’s usual fluffiness, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and her stomach growled, but there was no time for the typical morning routine. She felt sick.
Trudging out her front door, she held her head low to the ground, pretending to stare intently at the dirt. By now she could find her way to the schoolhouse blindfolded, there was no need for her to look up. As her desire was to interact with other ponies as little as possible, at least until she arrived at school, she strove to test her schoolhouse finding abilities.
Taking momentary pleasure in having been successfully ignored on her way to the schoolhouse, Cheerilee pressed open the door, once again finding momentary pleasure in the fact that she had arrived at the schoolhouse prior to any of her students. This gave her a few moments to vainly figure out what she needed to say – but how…
Cheerily glumly made her way to her desk, the normally joyous and happy colors of the schoolhouse taunting her, mocking her every step towards the head of the classroom. The flowers sat on her desk screamed to her, “We are alive!” She frowned, the imagined teasing of the potted plants bringing sadness to anger, and she stopped herself a moment before smashing the flowerpot against a wall, instead opting to place it inside the large, bottom drawer of her desk. Let’s not waste any more of time I have left. We don’t need that. She remained seated in her desk, staring into space, thinking of nothing, wasting time until school began.
The bell rang for the first time. Cheerilee trudged from her desk to the door, to call the young fillies and colts into the classroom. She opened the door and tried to speak, to call the fillies, but nothing but a strangled squeak emerged from her throat. Her mouth clamped shut and her lips trembled, struggling to hold in tears. It seemed some student or another had noticed her standing in the doorframe, and she felt their little bodies brush past her legs as they filed into the classroom and continued their discussions, conversations, and games from outdoors. Cheerilee turned, seeing the foals at their desks, smiling, chatting idly.
What I wouldn’t give to live on solely for the joy I find in teaching. The teaching mare smiled weakly, happy to find herself returning from the verge of tears. Glancing about one last time, she turned to face the class. The first bell merely indicated it was time to head in; there was a slight gap between the little ponies being inside and class beginning about ten minutes later. Cheerilee herself had thought of this, to give them time to finish their conversations and calm down from running around outside. Her students loved it. Moreover, her students loved her – every single one of them was eager to learn, happy to return day after day to the care of the maroon teacher. They would… Cheerilee’s smile faded. They’ll be devastated. No, that’s not an accurate description of what they will experience. Pah, and they’ll probably be left in the hooves of Twilight Sparkle, at least until a full-time replacement can be found. Oh, I’m sure she’ll be a good teacher…
The second bell rang. The class almost immediately quieted, and the soft shuffling sound of a dozen foals retrieving their textbooks and homework from their schoolbags filled the room before a deafening silence.
“Uh, Miss Cheerilee?” A light yellow earth filly with a red mane and matching bow piped up from the front row. Applebloom was surprised, Cheerilee never wasted a second of the school day, packing in as much teaching as she could, making sure her student left knowing as much as they could about the day’s subject. Her not starting immediately with the bell was… disconcerting.
“Yes, Applebloom?” Cheerilee’s voice trembled slightly, but it didn’t seem that her students picked up on it.
“What page should we turn to?”
Cheerilee sighed heavily, the air catching in her throat for a moment as she looked at her desk.
“Why… why don’t you all put your books away. I have… an announcement to make.”
A slight murmur rumbled through the class as that light shuffling sound once again appeared as a dozen foals returned their work to their saddlebags.
“Is something wrong, Miss Cheerilee?” Once again, Applebloom spoke, her orange eyes wide with concern, and what even looked like… fear.
“I… I’m afraid something is wrong, very wrong. You… there’s going to be a su-substi-titue… for a long time…” Cheerilee’s voice began to falter, gaps and breaks in words, pauses between them, “and… and aft-ter the sub… y-you’re all go-going to have a di-different teacher…” Cheerilee practically sobbed the last few words, head hanging into her hooves, shoulders heaving as “practically sobbing” became simply “sobbing.” Applebloom gasped and looked to Sweetie Belle, the white unicorn filly’s eyes filled with confusion and fear. She didn’t know what her teacher meant, aside from the obvious – she would be leaving.
“Why, Miss Cheerilee?” Sweetie Belle’s voice cracked. Her voice cracks were adorable. Yes, that is what Cheerilee would miss the most about Sweetie Belle. The way her voice cracked. It was silly, yes, but it was something very memorable about the cute little filly.
“Because…” Cheerilee’s voice trailed off as it hissed out as nothing more than a squeak. She couldn’t say it, not out loud. She stood, slowly, looking at her students. There was a collective gasp as they noticed for the first time how awful she looked – their normally beautiful teacher looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. “Beautiful.” Yes, that was something else she’d miss – her students confessing crushes on her. It was adorable, but naturally, she had to deny them all. It had to be that way, but still, a little colt running up to her, blushing madly, shifting uncomfortably, before blurting out “I really like you!” or “You’re so pretty, Miss Cheerilee!” Such compliments were something she loved – when coming from a child, they were always complete, honest, genuine, there were no ulterior motives, possible other meanings, none of that.
She turned and picked up a piece of chalk in her hoof. Slowly, she began to write on the board, a single large letter at a time. She got through “I am” with no problem, but her hoof stopped obeying as she got partway though the “d.”
“I… am… what? You’re what, Miss Cheerilee? Are you pregnant? Is that why you have to leave?” This time it was the third cutie mark crusader, a little Pegasus named Scootaloo. She was older than when most Pegasi learned to fly, but she was so very determined to be the best she could be no matter what. Scootaloo had always had a special place in Cheerilee’s heart. She pushed herself farther, studied longer, and tried harder than any of the other students in her class. Cheerilee smiled.
“No… no, Scootaloo. I’m… I’m not pregnant. I just… I don’t… I can’t…” She turned back to her desk, incomplete chalk writing on the board, and rested her head on her forehooves, tears staining the calendar beneath her. A small hoof rested on her shoulder.
“Miss Cheerilee? If… if it’s so bad, will you whisper it to me? I can tell the rest of the class if you don’t want to,” the southern accent was instantly recognizable as Appleblooms. Cheerilee nodded her head, rubbing her face against her legs and desk, before lifting on leg to allow Applebloom audience.
“Applebloom… you sweet, adorable, brave thing… I… I’m sick. I’m very sick and… and I’m not going to get better, and there’s not a thing in the world that can change that. I… in a week, maybe less, you’ll have a new teacher.”
Applebloom recoiled, tears welling in her eyes in an instant.
“No! You’re lying! That’s not true! That can’t be true! You can’t… you’re not sick! Why would you joke about that?” Applebloom shrieked, the class’ collective confusion disappearing, leaving only the fear. Gasps gave way to cries, the students terrified that they would be losing someone so important to them.
“Applebloom!” Cheerilee’s voice quavered as she yelled, her voice much more intense than she’d intended. “I would never lie, or kid, or joke about this! I would never leave here of my own will! I’m going to die and you accuse me of lying? I… I love you all so much and I’m going to lose all of that… you’re going to lose me… I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry…” Cheerilee found her hooves had slammed down on her desk, and she was now actively screaming at her students. Spent and horrified at herself from her outburst, Cheerilee dropped from her desk. “You can a-all go ho-home. No cl-classes tod-today,” she choked out, turning and running out of the classroom.
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Cheerilee sobbed against the tree that stood across the path from the school. Not only had her students accused her of lying, but she had screamed. At foals. For the first time, Cheerilee welcomed the news she wouldn’t be in this world much longer. She wished that, even now, it would take her. Forget the week she had left, she had just screamed at those who meant most to her, and those whom she meant the most to. A small voice broke her from her self-torture.
“Miss Cheerilee?” The southern accent. Applebloom. She would come out after her. “Miss Cheerilee… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I just… we don’t want to lose you, Miss Cheerilee! We all love you so much… I… we…” Applebloom trailed off, her voice drawing into a squeak. Cheerilee turned to look at the child, and found not just Applebloom, but in fact her entire class standing just a few feet away, most crying or on the verge of tears. Applebloom felt hooves wrap around her, pulling her into a hug. She found her face buried in her teacher’s chest, the soft purple fur trembling as the older mare held back her sobs. Without warning, more hooves appeared around the teacher, and a cacophony of “Don’t go, Miss Cheerilee,” “Please don’t leave,” or other forms of the phrase rose from the fillies and colts as they cried into their teacher.
“Hey, h-hey now… I don’t want to… I… I don’t want to go… I don’t want to leave…”