The progress is slow. He hates slow with every fiber of his being, but Mom tells him that things like this take time. Things don't heal overnight. He grumbles and scowls but he knows she's right.
True to his word, he does everything in his power to help. It's utterly exhausting, but the progress of Momma's condition propels him forward onto another morning.
The only obstacle he faces is his youngest sister.
He never realized, maybe because he is never home, how much of a hoof full she is. She's only eleven years old, but is clever beyond her years, too clever for her own good, really. He quickly learns that she takes unimaginable pleasure in stirring shit in every way possible. Spreading rumors, pulling pranks, and getting in brawls at school.
In a normal situation he would call on his mother for help, but his mother is not available nearly ever because while his Momma is getting better, she is far from being healthy.
Frustrated, he goes to Sue.
"Stormee's really difficult." she tells him in a patient, warm voice that degrades on his already frazzled nerves.
"Yeah. I noticed." He growls out, putting his face on the table. Moments later he feels a hoof run through his mane softly.
"I think . . . she's trying to figure some stuff out. About herself." Sue says quietly. He snorts.
"What kind of stuff?"
There is a pause, so long that he looks up at his sister.
"What kind of stuff?" he repeats, now slightly worried.
"You can't tell me you haven't seen it, Lightning." She says quietly, looking to the side, and all of a sudden he feels like the biggest idiot ever for not realizing it before.
"Oh." is all he can manage, wondering why he didn't see it sooner as being the cause of her difficulty.
"Yeah. It can't be easy on her." Sue seems like she's thinking out loud. He only nods.
"Do you . . . do you think I should talk to her about it?" He really doesn't want to, actually. Discussing things like sexuality is not his field at all, since he doesn't know the first thing about it himself. He's not even sure he knows anything about the actual act of sex, having been whisked away to school before his mothers told him the first thing about it.
Sue looks really torn on her answer. "I don't know, Bolt. You could try, I guess. But expect a lot of denial and rolling of eyes. Probably some choice words and gestures too." she muses. "I don't know what you'll accomplish, but at least try and get it through her head that we love her either way.’Cause, you know, that's true."
He takes a very deep breath, hovering outside Stormee's bedroom door, stalling for time. He wonders if he's the best candidate for this, since once again, he knows nothing about these things.
But if he can't do it then who would? His mothers would know everything about it, obviously, but he doesn't want to trouble them with it. And by the time they come around to it, he's pretty sure it would be a bit late.
Sue is like a mother to the rest of them, even him, but he's pretty sure she knows about as much as he does, since she's kind of a free spirit.
The twins are too young to know anything about it, really, but Skylar probably did. He was always reading about everything. But how far could books get him, seriously? Either way, Stormee and Skylar did not get along very well. There would be no way.
No, no, it had to be him, he decides. He was the eldest. He was the stallion of the house. He had this. There was nothing he couldn't do.
Spurred on by his ego, he knocks on the door. On the other side, the music is turned down and hoof beats sound against the floor. A moment later the door opens, and Stormee stands in the frame.
"Hi." he greets, all ego-spurred courage gone in a millisecond under his sister's stare.
To anypony who didn’t know her, Stormee was intimidating. She had a way of looking at ponies, very coldly and very calculatingly. Flatly, one might say. Her eyes were beautiful, the only one of the five of them who had inherited the rose color of their mother's eyes, but they were piercing in a way that made ponies shrink under them.
He found himself doing the same, looking away from the orbs and focusing on a spot on the wall.
"Yes?" Stormee finally speaks, clearly reading that he wasn’t going to continue the conversation.
"Can we talk?" he squeaks, and immediately frowns at his frightened voice.
"About?"
"Um."
The silence hangs between them, and he squirms under the x-ray gaze his sister is giving him. He unfolds and folds his wings nervously.
Finally, Stormee turns around and walks back into her bedroom, leaving the door opened in a clear invitation for him to follow. He takes extra care in closing it behind him as Stormee walks to her unmade bed and drops down like a ton of rocks. He finds himself being x-rayed by her stare once more as he looks around her room.
He has only seen it once before in broad daylight, and that was just a glance. Stormee was the very essence of private, marking her space as her own and glowering at anyone who came near it. He had never even seen the inside of her personal grooming area, and he was damn sure no pony else had either, and they lived with her.
The bedroom is mostly grey—every shade of grey. On the walls, all the different shades of grey overlap, and it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to notice that the reason for that is because the walls are covered in the depiction of storm clouds, dark and heavy with water. One of these storm clouds is letting out a gigantic, white rod of lightning that goes from ceiling to floor and is partially hidden by her bed; so that it looks like it’s striking her while she is asleep.
Huh. Clever.
Her room is neat. Almost as neat as Skylar’s, which surprises him. Everything is organized and labeled, almost to the point of being unnecessary.
"Well?" Stormee sounds, no doubt ultimately growing bored of his evaluating her room.
Celestia how do I begin this?
"Um. Storm. Listen." he curses himself. Come on now, he was a master of words! He could talk faster than he could fly, and that was pretty fast. Where was his annoying verboseness when he needed it?
"You’re boring me, Bolt." she states matter-of-factly.
"Celestia, I'm just gonna come out and ask it. . . Storm, are you gay?"
Silence. Utter silence. Stormee blinks once. Twice. Three times. Four.
Shock looks foreign on her, he muses.
Minutes go by. Neither of them speak. More minutes. Stormee just sits, reclined on her bed, staring at him blankly.
"Look. It's fine if you are. Nothing wrong with that. I just wanted to know." he rubs the back of his neck, looking away from her frozen person.
And still she doesn't speak. She is not a pony of many words, but he seemed to have completely muted her. He guesses this was about the best he could hope for. At least she wasn’t throwing things at him and telling him to get out. Yet.
"Um. I'm just gonna leave you to think. When you’re ready. . ." a barely there nod is his only answer. He nods back and turns around.
"I love you." the words rise from his throat for some reason, just before he closes the door behind him. He doesn’t hear her response. He wonders if there was one.
The winter was his favorite time probably ever. There was something enchanting about it. It brought ponies closer together, reunited families. Reunited his family. The Wonderbolts got the winter season off, since ticket sales suffered during it since no pony wanted to sit in a freezing open arena for two hours plus, and flying in cold air was dangerous to begin with. Therefore, his mother got to come home for winter.
School obviously let out for winter during Heartswarming, so that brought the rest of them home too.
Winter swept away the worries. It was like a time when the world around you slowed down and froze over to be worried about later.
With this winter came the full healing of his Momma. She was back to them, strong as ever in her spirit, but weak in flesh from two months of being completely bedridden. She tired easily and her muscles were barely there, but she was healthy on the inside and that’s what counted.
But the winter was not all joyous. The winter brought an envelope, reminiscent of one that was given to him some five years ago. Thick, cream colored, with his name in over-the-top fancy lettering. It sits on the kitchen counter, unopened, and he sits in front of it, staring at it.
He can guess pretty accurately what it is. Of course, it could be nothing else. He is surprised it took them this long to send it. He could only guess dean Blizzard pulled strings for two months in order to hold it off. But the strings had eventually been cut, and now here the envelope was.
"Staring at it will not make it disappear, bro." Stormee voiced, and of course she would be the one to break to silence.
"I know." he sighs, but he continues to stare nevertheless.
"Just open it. We all know what it is." Skylar huffs.
"Yeah. Since we all know... wouldn’t it be easier to just throw it away?" he counters, and he knows he sounds pathetic, but for once he doesn’t care.
"Take as long as you need." his Momma whispers.
"Throwing it away will be like running away. Come on now." Di reminds him, and she's right. He breaths in deeply, but doesn’t reach for the envelope.
"Do you want me to open it?" his Mom mutters, trying to sound convincing.
He shakes his head and then puts a hoof on the thick paper. He rests it therefore a long moment, then closes his eyes and pushes it away from him, sliding it to the other end of the table to the only pony who hadn’t spoken yet.
"Sue. Please."
Sue looks up at him and nods just barely, and then opens the envelope. “Dear Lightning Tempest Dash,” she reads in a clear but shaky voice. “This letter is sent to inform you of your expulsion from Cloudsdale Flight Academy due to excessive absence. If you would like to schedule to plead your case to the board, you may do so. Have a wonderful rest of the school year.” Sue looks up from the paper. “That’s it.”
“That’s it?” Stormee snaps, outraged. “‘You’re expelled, but have a great rest of the school year’?”
“‘You may also present your case to the school board.’” Skylar mocks, just as outraged. “They’re treating this like court!”
“Are you going to do it, Bolt?” Sue asks quietly, peering up at him.
Dazed, he shakes his head. He knew what was in the letter, of course he did, but it didn’t lessen the sting.
“No. Everypony knows that dealing with the school board is a waste of time.” He says, because it’s true. “A friend of mine, his father died halfway through the year last year and he was gone for a few weeks and they expelled him too. He tried to plead to the board and they would have none of it.”
He gets up, then, frustrated with his family’s pitying looks. “I’m heading to my room.” He mutters. “Don’t call me for dinner. Good night.”
A month later, overflowing with general sulking around the house and avoidance of the prying, caring eyes of his family, there comes a knock on the door during dinner.
For a short second, they all stare at the door like idiots, but then Stormee flutters quickly to it and opens it.
“Ummm.” He hears coming from her mouth before she steps aside and lets the newcomer through.
His eyes pop open when dean Blizzard steps through the threshold. His mane and neck is covered by a matching set of brown woolen hat and scarf, but otherwise nothing else. He nods to everypony before taking his hat off and shaking frost from it.
“Evening, Mrs. Dash.” He nods to Momma. “Rainbow.” He says in a formal tone to Mom, who gives him a tight-lipped smile.
And then his grey eyes focus on Lightning. “Lightning Dash.”
Lightning bites his lip, a mixture of anger, confusion, and respect swirling in his stomach. “Sir.” He says hesitantly, standing up from his seating as one is supposed to in the Academy when in the presence of a teacher or other such respected figure. Or seventh years.
Blizzard waves him down. “No, sit, sit. I’m in your home. No need for formalities such as that.” The dean speaks fast, almost nervously.
Stormee returns to the table, eyeing the dean carefully.
“Anyway, Lightning,” Blizzard continues, “I’m here to inform you of your readmission to the Academy.”
Faintly, he hears the small gasps of his family from around the table, but they are muted because his head feel like it’s under water. His heart pounds harder, as if throwing in it’s own opinion and wanting to be heard.
“Um.” He says, because it’s the only thing he can say right now. His tongue feels heavy and dry. “What for?”
Blizzard cracks a smile, no doubt at his lack of speech eloquence, but it’s gone in an instant to be replaced with an uneasy look as the old stallion rubs the back of his head.
“You’re more popular than you think you are,” he says, “a lot of your classmates—I don’t even know how they got a hold of the information—but they heard you were kicked out. Hasn’t been a peaceful day of classes since. They’re rebelling, refusing to go to classes; some didn’t even come back from Heartswarming break. It started in just your grade, but its spread.”
He wants to laugh, because he highly doubts that this is true. Ponies didn’t do things like that except for in story books. He’s also not sure he wants to return to the academy, if this is an offer. He’d frankly much rather spend time with his family than be glared at by professors and have to practically bow every time a seventh year walks by.
Blizzard continues, “The board is being stubborn, but the school’s loosing funding by the parents of a lot of the students. They’ll cave any day now and send you a reacceptance letter.”
He grits his teeth, becoming irrationally angry the more Blizzard continues to talk. “I don’t know if I want to come back, sir.” He says carefully, failing to keep the venom from his voice.
The dean looks at him for a short moment and then nods. “I understand.” He says simply. “And I will not stand here and tell you that you need Cloudsdale. Your mother is proof of not needing a state-of-the-art education to be successful.” The dean stops his solemn speech there, and puts his hat back on, now wet from the melted frost.
“Think about it, Lightning.”