//------------------------------//
// Three 
// Story: Don't Stop Dancing, Scootaloo 
// by Scramblers and Shadows 
//------------------------------//


Don't Stop Dancing, Scootaloo



Three



Marble's shyness had evaporated fairly quickly. Now, sitting in the glimmering lights of Morral's, he was happy to regale Scootaloo with all manner of mildly interesting stories about growing up on a rock farm, illustrating his points with animated gestures, his milky-white mane quivering as he spoke.

He stopped to take a sip of his coffee. “And that,” he finished, “is why my granddad never let me use sulphuric acid again.”

“Neat!” said Scootaloo. “Do you still have the scar?” Strong acids could certainly improve any story that was mostly about limestone, she thought.

Marble glanced down under the table. “Yeah,” he said. “You … uh … Maybe I'll show you at some point.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Scootaloo shrugged. Looking at her reflection in the window and dark evening beyond it, she drank some of her coffee and grimaced. She refused to admit it for fear of seeming foalish, but she hated the taste.

“You're really awesome!” blurted Marble.

“You think?” When she turned back to Marble, he looked as though he was trying to hide behind his cup.

“Totally,” he said after a moment.

“Thanks!” Scootaloo grinned at him. “Relax, dude. Nopony's gonna hurt you.”

“Oh, okay.” Marble sat up a little straighter. “I mean it, though. You rock. Everything you do is cool. Apart from the scooter, I guess.”

Scootaloo tensed. “What's wrong with the Scooter?” 

Marble retreated behind his cup again. “Oh, nothing really. Just … y'know. It's pretty old, like a kid's toy.”

“I …” Scootaloo's mind flicked through ways to chew Marble out. Anger swelled in her breast.  And then, just as quickly, it subsided. He had a point. Her scooter was small, old, covered in chipped and peeling paint. She didn't know why she kept it around, really. Maybe she could buy a new one. But still, how silly would it be, a full grown mare riding a scooter – even a new one – everywhere?

Marble was still cowering.

“I guess so,” said Scootaloo. She drank some more coffee and this time relished the bitterness as a distraction.

“But, I mean, I still think you're cool,” said Marble quietly.

Scootaloo shrugged. “Well, whatever.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“Huh?”

“You … you seem a bit down.”

“Don't worry about it,” said Scootaloo. “It's nothing.”

“Oh, okay.” Marble peered at his coffee. “But if there is ever anything wrong, we can totally talk about it. My parents are away for the next couple of says, so I have a free house. So if you ever want to, you could come over and talk …”

Looking at Marble with his earnest eyes and silly, quivering mane, Scootaloo tried and failed to stifle a laugh. “Right,” she said through a smirk. “Okay.”

Ears pinned, Marble shrunk again. 

“Buck up, dude. Screw the coffee. C'mon, let's see this house of yours, then. We don't even need to talk,” said Scootaloo.

Before Marble's excited flailing could knock it over, Scootaloo pulled his cup away.

“Really?” said Marble as Scootaloo jumped off her seat.

“Yeah, really. Let's stop on the way to grab some mead, though.”



*


Scootaloo leaned against the wall of the nightclub on her hindlegs, nodding to the thump of music from within while older ponies milled about around her, chatting, smoking, drinking. Mane coloured black, she wore a koskin jacket, a fake earring (her mother had forbade her from getting any piercings yet), and her best insouciant expression. She was, undeniably, cool.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle trotted up the street towards her, the latter sporting an impressive amount of liquid eyeliner. Scootaloo nodded at them as they came within conversational distance. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle trotted past her without responding.

“Hey, girls! Over here!” said Scootaloo. They turned around and stared.

“Oh sorry, Scoots!” said Apple Bloom after a moment. “Didn't recognise you there, what with the getup and all.”

“I really like your mane!” said Sweetie Belle.

Scootaloo grinned and dropped her forehooves to the ground. “Was in the mood for a change,” she said, casually as possible.

“What's the plan for this big night, then?” asked Apple Bloom.

“Behold,” said Scootaloo, gesturing at the door of the nightclub.

“Oh, right. We're gonna walk up to a door and then get turned away by security,” said Apple Bloom. “Great plan.”

Scootaloo sighed. “Yes, we're going in. But not through that door, obviously.”

“Then why'd you –”

“C'mon. This way,” said Scootaloo, walking around the side of the nightclub.

“Should we really be doing this?” said Sweetie Belle. 

Scootaloo glanced round. Makeup aside, Sweetie Belle seemed as timid as ever.

“Psh, yeah!” said Scootaloo. “We're not fillies, right? We're old enough for this.”

Sweetie Belle looked unsure.

“Don't be such scaredy-ponies.” Scootaloo shook her head dismissively.

“Scootaloo,” said Sweetie Belle, “remember that time a couple years ago when we were camping, and –”

“Nope,” said Scootaloo.

“It's okay,” said Apple Bloom to Sweetie Belle. “It might be fun. If you don't like it, we can leave.”

“All right,” said Sweetie Belle.

“We done here?” called Scootaloo.

“Yeah, we're comin'” said Apple Bloom. 

Scootaloo led them round the back of the building, up a pile of boxes, and through a high open window into an empty hallway. Inside, she dropped to the ground, buzzing her wings to slow her fall. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle dropped less gracefully a few seconds later.

The music was louder here. Scootaloo grinned at her friends without saying anything and gestured the way ahead. Down the hallway, through a small room, and they were in the club proper.  The warmth and increase in volume hit them like a brick wall. Ponies with sweat-slicked hair danced in the dim and colourful illumination or sat at tables by the bar and tried to converse over the music. It was awesome.

Scootaloo turned to Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle and said, “See? Nothing to it.”

Sweetie Belle's ears were pinned. She said something, but Scootaloo couldn't hear it. 

Scootaloo leaned in towards them. “Bar!” she shouted. “You brought bits, right? Come on!” She cantered off without looking back.

After several minutes of waiting in line, being jostled and squashed, Scootaloo was starting to feel that the club atmosphere was rather less awesome. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were beside her, but they had given up trying to talk beyond sharing their drinks order. Still, she was happy. She was nearly at the bar itself, and certain that once they'd got their drinks, the fun would begin. She reached the bar, waved to the barmare, waited several more minutes, and – finally – got served.

The Crusaders settled in an empty spot near the seating area. In the end, they had been unable to find a free table, and couldn't venture onto the dance floor while holding their drinks. They could just about hold a conversation above the music by leaning in and shouting.

“Do you recognise anypony?” said Sweetie Belle. She seemed less worried now, and was amusing herself by watching the crowd.

“Nuh-uh,” said Scootaloo. She gulped down her drink and glared at the amount that remained. Obviously going to the bar first would mean they couldn't dance immediately. She was annoyed at herself for not figuring that out.

“A couple by sight,” said Apple Bloom. “But I don't reckon I know anypony's name.”

“Oh well.” Sweetie Belle was silent for a moment. “I suppose that's for the best. I wouldn't want to see anypony we knew dancing like that!” She nodded to indicate the couple she was talking about.

“Oh my,” said Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo snickered.

“I mean,” said Sweetie Belle, “imagine if we saw Ms. Cheerilee doing that.”

Scootaloo stared at her. Sweetie Belle looked back with a slight smirk. A moment passed where they said nothing. The music thumped.

Scootaloo burst out laughing, almost spilling her drink. “Oh … Oh, Celestia, that is ...”

“Now I'm imagining Princess Celestia doing it,” said Sweetie Belle, her smirk growing. She managed to rescue Scootaloo's drink with her horn field as the latter all but fell over from laughter.

“Y'alright there?” said Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo nodded, still unable to speak over the giggles.

“I'm … I'm good,” she said eventually. Was overcome with another peal of laughter. Then: “Okay, seriously, this time.” She took her drink from a grinning Sweetie Belle, thanked her, and sipped.

“There's somepony we know,” said Sweetie Belle. The cheer had gone from her voice.

“Who?” said Scootaloo.

Sweetie Belle said something Scootaloo couldn't hear. Her ears were pinned. 

“Who?” shouted Scootaloo.

Apple Bloom put one forehoof to Scootaloo's mouth and pointed with the other. Rainbow Dash and Applejack were walking towards the bar. Scootaloo swallowed and sank to the ground. She didn't care about getting caught, but a confrontation with Rainbow Dash was not what she wanted.

Apple Bloom tugged on her hoof. “Let's get outta here!” 

The Crusaders slinked towards the exit, hiding behind other ponies wherever they could. Rainbow Dash and Applejack didn't seem to notice them. As Scootaloo watched Rainbow Dash receding, she felt a lump in her throat. She stopped without knowing why. 

Sweetie Belle ran into her. “What the hay are you doing? Hurry!” she hissed, barely audible.

Scootaloo said nothing. There were no ponies between her and Rainbow Dash. If Dash were to look to the right ...

Sweetie Belle pushed Scootaloo forward. She was stronger than she looked, and Scootaloo stumbled, regained her balance with a flick of her wings, and hurried forward. The three of them made it outside without further incident.

They stood behind the nightclub, breathing heavily.

“Well, that was a close call,” Scootaloo said, forcing a smile. It was meant to be a quip, but she realised how flat it sounded as soon as she finished.

Sweetie Belle was glaring at her. “What is wrong with you?” she said. “You nearly got us all caught!”

“Like hell I did!” said Scootaloo. “And so what? We got out fine, didn't we?”

“No thanks to you,” said Sweetie Belle. She snorted. “Besides, you were the one who convinced us to go in there in the first place. On a night Rainbow Dash would be there! Didn't you boast about how she tells you everything? So you must have known she'd be here, right?”

Scootaloo pawed at the ground. She wanted to shout at Sweetie Belle, tell her about her last meeting with Dash. But she couldn't. So she just swore at her instead, and started forward.

A hoof to the chest stopped her. 

“Whoah, girls!” said Apple Bloom. “Hold your horses! We just had a close shave, all right? Nopony's fault.”

Scootaloo pushed against Apple Bloom's hoof for a second, then fell back. She didn't feel up to fighting. “Fine. Whatever,” she said.

Sweetie Belle looked away. “This is all on Scootaloo,” she said. “It's not like we all messed up, was it?”

Apple Bloom gave her a look.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “Let's just forget it. I want to go home now, anyway.”

Scootaloo considered pushing her friends to find out what else was going on that night, but decided against it. “Yeah, let's go home,” she mumbled.

They walked out from behind the nightclub and down the road. 




*



Heart thudding, weaving between startled ponies, Scootaloo galloped down the road. Her hooves clattered against the ground, sending up clouds of dry dirt, and her breath scoured her throat. Sweat ran in rivulets from her mane. Nearly there, nearly there.

Minutes later she skidded to a halt outside the practice hall and pounded on the door. Sweetie Belle answered, a frown on her face.

“Scootaloo! Where the hay have you been? Bloom and I were just about to go looking for you!”

“It's cool … Just gimme a minute … I'm here now,” said Scootaloo, panting.

“No, it is not cool! You kept us waiting for ages. For … for how long?”

“Twenty minutes, almost,” said Apple Bloom. Expression unreadable, her face appeared at the door beside Sweetie Belle's.

“Twenty minutes! That's not okay!”

Scootaloo gave Sweetie Belle a wry grin. “You're getting prissier all the time,” she said. “Any day now you'll be yelling at your sister to stop messing around and sit in the corner quietly.”

“Screw you!”

Scootaloo raised her forehooves in a placatory gesture. “Woah, woah. Calm down, filly. I'm kidding.”

Sweetie Belle stamped and snorted.

“Scoots, this ain't really the time to be making jokes. Sweetie Belle has a point,” said Apple Bloom, putting a hoof against Sweetie Belle's shoulder.

“Oh, not you too,” said Scootaloo. “Okay, fine. I admit: I screwed up. Now can we get on with practice?”

“What's wrong with you?” asked Sweetie Belle. 

“Huh?”

“Something's up,” said Sweetie Belle. “And it's not just about turning up late. What is it?”

Scootaloo glared at her. “Nothing.”

“Come on!”

“Piss off, Sweetie Belle! Why don't you try keeping your nose out of other ponies' business for a change?”

Pushing past Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle surged forward to Scootaloo as if she were about to hit her. At the last moment she stopped, muzzle right up against Scootaloo's, and snarled.

“Girls!” shouted Apple Bloom. “What in the hay is wrong with both of you?”

“With me?” Sweetie Belle almost fell over in her outrage.

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo. “You. Don't go making out you're better than me.”

“Scootaloo!” said Apple Bloom.

“I'm not the one being disrespectful! I'm not the delinquent! This is all on you!” Sweetie Belle turned to Apple Bloom. “You see that, don't you?”

“Well, I –” began Apple Bloom.

“Yeah, well you can keep your not-being-relinquent and –”

“Delinquent! Not relinquent, you stupid ostrich!”

“Whatever!” said Scootaloo. “Y'know what? Screw this. I'm not in the mood for practicing with you two any more.” She turned away. “Do what you like. I'm going.”

“No argument there!” said Sweetie Belle.

“Girls!” said Apple Bloom.

“Shut up, Bloom,” said Scootaloo over her shoulder. “Just leave it and –”

Sweetie Belle slammed the door before Scootaloo could finish. She snorted, considered knocking so she could shout some more, then fell back and trudged away down the road, alone.

She walked for some time, seething and muttering, kicking up loose dirt and avoiding eye contact with the ponies around her, because anger was easier than loneliness. Eventually this became boring, and Scootaloo retreated to the spa, where she sat outside by the grate, playing with trickles of vapour and willing herself not to cry.

Then she realised: Of course! There was somepony she could talk to. Talk properly, like a grown mare, not a little filly chatting with her schoolfriends.

Scootaloo wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and galloped to Marble's house.

At the door she paused. Was this sensible? She didn't dislike Marble, but … he didn't give her that twang of joy she got from being around Rainbow Dash or Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.

But she couldn't talk to Dash. And as for Bloom and Sweetie …

“Oh, screw it,” she said to herself, and knocked. “Marble? You in there? Open up!”

When Marble opened the door, Scootaloo was greeted with a bewildered expression. She was getting quite used to it.

“Scoots?”

“Hey, dude,” she said, pushing past him into the hallway. “You said I could come to you if I need to talk? Well I do, so come on.” When she glanced round, he was still dinnerplate-eyed. “Well? We can have a quick cuddle on the couch afterwards if you like. But right now I need to tell you some stuff.”

Marble closed the door and followed her inside.


*