//------------------------------// // Ch 2.2 Roommates and Class Credit // Story: Our Girl Scootaloo 2 of 3 // by Cozy Mark IV //------------------------------// Our Girl Scootaloo Part 2 of 3 by Cozy Mark IV & Jan. McNeville Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan-made work of prose. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is the property of Hasbro. Please support the official release Chapter Two point Two: Roommates and Class Credit It was coming up on midterms during their first semester when Scootaloo stopped by Josie's room to hang out. The door was ajar, so she knocked and slowly pushed it open. Josie was working on something at her desk, and her roommate, Kim, was apparently playing an MMORPG again, judging by the thick textbook on her head. Scootaloo walked up to Josie to look over her shoulder at the project, then gestured at her roommate. “You know, you really shouldn't keep doing that.” Josie turned to see the book she had set on Kim's head three hours ago was still in the same place, and still unnoticed. “She doesn't seem to mind. Don't get me wrong, Kim's a great roommate; quiet, considerate... half the time I forget she's even here. But the gaming is getting a little out of hand though. This is my subtle way of reminding her that she needs to keep up with her school work.” “Subtle?” She had the decency to blush. “Well, more or less. Plus, I've been making a little money on the side lately.” She indicated the webcam pointed at her roommate's computer. “The betting pool to guess when she'll notice is already up to fifty dollars.” Scootaloo fixed her with a level gaze. “Really, now.” “Anyway!” Josie interjected, changing the subject. “What have you been up to lately?” “Oh, just the usual. Classes, homework, friends...” She trailed off as she looked around the room, taking in the mountains of unwashed laundry and the books and things piled everywhere. Josie followed her glance and she took a defensive posture. “Don't you give me that look. I'll have you know I can find anything I need, anytime I want to.” Scootaloo smiled. “Hey, your room, your rules. I was just thinking about what my dads said about the state of our rooms.” “Hmm... You know, I've been meaning to ask you; how are you keeping your room so clean? I saw your old room back home, and you sure didn't keep it as spotless as you do your dorm room.” Now it was Scootaloo's turn to blush. “Well, I can't take credit for that. Margaret May is really great at cleaning and organizing. I keep telling her she doesn't have to do it, but every time I leave my things scattered about, she just sweeps though and fixes it.” She looked thoughtful. “You know, since I've moved in, I don't think I've even seen a single feather on the floor.” “Feather?” Josie asked. “Well yeah.” Scootaloo replied spreading her wings. “I shed a few every day, and usually I'm always finding them in odd spots, but since I got to college, it hasn't been an issue.” “Ha!” Josie teased “I bet your roommate's secretly saving them like toenail clippings.” “Eww, gross.” Scootaloo made a face. “What would someone even do with pile of orange feathers?” “Oh I don't know...” Josie replied mischievously. “Maybe she's selling them on eBay or something!” Scootaloo gave her a playful shove. “Josie! You are terrible!” “Oh really? Lets just see, shall we?” And before Scootaloo could object she had plugged the terms into the search engine. The results were not what they expected. Scootaloo and Josie both stared blankly at the listing for several seconds. “You have got to be kidding me.” “What??... How did my feathers wind up on...Etsy? What the eff is Etsy?!” “It's like eBay for crafts. Doesn't have a ban on animal parts like eBay does, though.” “Do I want to know how you know that?” “Frankly, no.” Josie frowned as she read the listing aloud. “For auction, one genuine Pegasus feather from the person some have called the second coming of Christ. Reserve fixed at two hundred dollars. No ponies were harmed in the collection of this feather.” Then after a moments thought she turned and looked at Scootaloo. “The second coming of Christ?!” Scootaloo shrugged. “I have wings, I like peace, and the medical treatments derived from my synthetic biology have saved millions of lives. For some people with a particularly creative interpretation of scripture, that's apparently enough. Most of them are harmless enough, but I have to admit,” she gestured to the screen, “this is new.” The girls stared at each other. “I think its time we have some words with May.” Scootaloo said slowly. “Yes. I believe it is.” … Margaret May unlocked her dorm room door and opened it to see Josie and Scootaloo waiting for her, arms crossed and both wearing serious expressions. “Uh... nice day we're having?” She asked looking guilty. Josie scowled. “Yes. Yes, it was. Until I found out you've been plucking my friend and selling her feathers for textbook money!” “Hey, that's not what I was doing!” “Oh? Then how did my feathers wind up on eBay?” “Etsy.” “Whatever! On some freaky website right next to the handmade dolls of me that I really did NOT need to know about!” “Because I sent them home to my church. It's not right that you should just let relics like that go to waste.” She added defensively. “Oh, lord.” Josie replied as Scootaloo facepalmed. “Relics?” “Well, yes! I didn't seek this out, but seeing that I'm living with a holy woman, it was-” “Holy woman?” Josie cut her off. “You seriously believe Scootaloo here is some kind of minor God?” Margaret looked uneasy. “Well, yeah, at least that's what I thought at first...” Scootaloo moved her hand enough to look at her. “Seriously?” Josie gave her an equally flat look. “Margaret, you were here that time the cafeteria served up that asparagus casserole two days running. You share a room. You're telling me you actually think Scootaloo is holy?” Margaret made a face and looked determinedly at the ceiling. “I'll admit that was a test of my faith, yes.” Josie began laughing so hard that she just laid back on the bed and gave up. Scootaloo flashed her a dark look that only made her laugh harder, before trying a different approach. “Well, apparently there are people willing to pay for them. What are you using the money for anyway?” Margaret brightened up immediately. “Well, some of it has been used to fix the broken plumbing and heating in our old church. It was really run down, but now we've got it back up to code.” She pulled up some images on her computer, but instead of the gaudy, overdone building Scootaloo had expected, the pictures were of simple plain white structure, an old church by the looks of it, that had been restored, but certainly not lavished with cash. Margaret looked a little embarrassed as she continued. “We wouldn't have used even this amount if we could have avoided it, but collections only come up with so much, and we've needed it to accommodate the growing congregation. Most of the money has been donated to our local Children's Hospital.” She pulled up some pictures of little smiling faces from the modest hospital. “They really appreciate the support, and they've been able to make some badly needed repairs just since the start of the semester.” Josie had settled down enough to rejoin the conversation now, so she posed the obvious question. “Okay... I admit this is not what I expected. But why feathers?” Margaret looked uneasy again, but forged ahead anyway. “Well, they're a piece of... of you, Scootaloo. Some of them wind up in statues or altars, some people keep them as good luck charms or mementos of the woman who saved their lives, or the lives of their family or children. I didn't think it made you uncomfortable like this, but please think of it from our perspective.” “What perspective is that? That I'm the pony messiah?” Margaret's face was downcast now, and her tone had become very serious. “That whatever you may believe, you are a force for good in this world. Your healing touch has saved more people than any other person ever to live.” She seemed to choke up before continuing. “And that when you leave us, it will be a very long time before we see your like again.” “Leave you?” Scootaloo asked in alarm. “Yes, Scoot. Most people only know you as an idea, or a celebrity. Becoming your friend has actually made the truth harder for me. It's been more than a decade now since you arrived. No one has shown up looking for you, and as heartbreaking as it is to say, it's likely no one ever will. You are the first and last of your kind. You can't reproduce with anyone from earth. As much as we might want it, you will have no children of your own. And when death finally catches up with you, as it does to all of us, there will be no one else to take your place. We will be all alone again.” That brought a sharp sobriety to the conversation as neither Scootaloo or Josie could disagree what she had said. A tear ran down May's cheek as she looked up at Scootaloo again. “And now, because of what I've done, I may have ruined a friendship with someone I... really wanted to know better.” Scootaloo glanced at Josie, remembering the betrayal at the protest and Agent Tyler's advice. She took a deep breath and sighed. “Margaret, I'm not going to disown you as a friend over this, I just wish you would have told me first.” “You're not?” She looked up hopefully. “No, I'm not. Just give me a heads up before you do something like this again all right?” Margaret nodded happily, and Scootaloo thought of another question. “Anyway, how can someone tell the difference between my feathers and ordinary bird feathers?” “Well, because they're the same color of orange as you.” She answered simply. “Hmm... I think I might have something for you to discuss with my doctors.” There was a moment's pause as an evil grin crossed Scootaloo's face, and May looked concerned, but before she could ask: “Anyway!” Josie broke in, “I think you should spend some more time with your Holy Roommate and I,” she finished with a mischievous grin. “Who's up for a couple of hours of 'Adventure Time'? I've got Pop Rocks and Kool-Aid that will turn your tongues blue.” “All right!” Scootaloo replied, sharing a high five with Josie before looking back to Margaret May. “You coming?” “…Yeah!” And with that, Margaret joined their group. The fact that the painting of Jesus riding on Scootaloo’s back from the Etsy search arrived exactly ten business days later was simply irrelevant. Scoot liked Jesus, and it was the most flattering picture of herself she had ever seen. Her fathers would like it. … One of the unexpected requirements of her first year at college turned out to be art appreciation class. Scootaloo had never really thought much about art, and while she didn't have an particular objection to learning about it, she found she did resent the credit hours consumed by the class that could not be spent elsewhere. It was the day after the midterm when her professor reminded them all of their out of class assignments. “As you no doubt remember, each student is required to attend at least three art related events listed on the syllabus and write a report about said event. With the mid term over, we are down to only a handful of eligible events to satisfy the requirements, and I urge anyone still needing credit to make it to them before they are all gone.” As he listed out the remaining events Scootaloo mentally kicked herself for putting it off this long. She still needed two of the three events, and most of the remaining ones conflicted with her other classes. She sat quietly through the rest of the class, taking notes on the various painters on discussion that day, and thinking to herself that she had liked the earlier part of the class better. At least then they included some world history, and art from all over the globe. The last few weeks had been nothing but European paintings; not a sculpture or architectural building to be seen. At length, the lecture wound to a close, and as the rest of the class filled out, Scootaloo pulled on her saddle bags and walked down to the podium, waiting her turn for a word with the professor. “Professor? I wanted to ask if there was some other way to satisfy the out of class grade requirement?” She looked sheepish as she continued. “I know I should have made it to some of the earlier events, but now its going to be quite difficult to make two of the remaining ones because most of them conflict with other classes. Could I write you an essay or something to make up the difference?” She finished with a hopeful smile. The professor looked her over, but didn't answer at once. Instead, he walked in a full circle around her, scrutinizing every inch of her, and quite frankly, making her feel a little uncomfortable. “Hmm... I think I may have something that could work... How do you feel about modeling?” He finished with a raised eyebrow. Somewhat taken aback by this abrupt change of topics, she answered honestly. “Well, I have done a few commercials for charities and the odd benefit over the years. Given my body type, clothes made to fit me aren't of much use to the mass market...” She thought for a moment and smirked at the memory. “And that one guy who tried to bring saddles into fashion didn't meet with much success, though I'm told he now runs a roaring custom business for the furry community.” Her professor inclined his head to one side before replying. “Hmm... I think you misunderstand, Ms. Scott. I teach another class that focuses exclusively on helping amateur painters improve their skills. While we do paint the occasional still life of fruit and such, the staple of the class is nudes, and quite frankly, you would present an interesting challenge.” There was a short pause, and her expression when she responded was one of puzzlement. “Um... I know that would probably be a big deal to a lot of people, but I don't normally wear much to begin with.” She glanced back at herself. “I mean aside from my saddle bags and prosthetic, I'm technically nude right now.” She flicked her tail meaningfully and added with a grin. “A tail covers a multitude of sins.” “So you would not be adverse to this? You would need to hold various poses without moving for some time.” “If it fulfills the out of class requirement, I'm fine with it, provided we can fit it into my schedule.” A thought occurred to her and she looked him in the eye. “By the way, we are using the same definition of nude right? You're not planning on shaving me or something?” He laughed at that. “On matters of grooming and hygiene, we ask only that you arrive clean and presentable. I imagine shaving is less of a concern for you than some of our other models.” Scootaloo blushed a bit, but replied with the honesty born from years spent fielding embarrassing questions. “Well, yes, my genitals are a bit better protected than yours.” She added with a gesture to her flank. “So my species never needed to grow a forest of barbed wire to protect them. Saves a bit on the cost of razors.” He grinned good-naturedly. “Have you ever tried shaving your legs?” She grimaced. “Yes. Once, when I was a lot younger. Have you ever seen what it looks like when someone shaves a poodle? Like that, only worse. And on top of it my skin was so light I got a bad sunburn before the fur grew back in.” “Well, you need not fear anything like that from us. We usually have class at these times.” He added fishing out his tablet. “And we already have models for these dates.” She soon picked out two sessions that worked with her schedule, and they shook hands before parting. 'My first nude modeling session...' She pondered as she walked back to the dorms. 'I'm not sure what to make of this, but hopefully it should at least be interesting'. … The soft sounds of brushes on canvas and the occasional scrape of a chair were the only sounds to be heard in the modest classroom. Scootaloo's first modeling session had gone well enough from everyone else's perspective, but by the end of it she was bored out of her mind and ready to slug someone from the stiffness and pain of holding a position without anything to think about but the aches and pains that slowly built up in her outstretched wings and body. This second time around was going much better. Unlike the boulder she had been perched on last time, this time around she had insisted on a couch, and the red padded lounge was already proving to be far more comfortable. What's more, this time around she had asked for an extra canvas to be set up, along with a large mirror, and as she held perfectly still, only her eyes moved as she painted a (reversed) image of herself along with the other students. The result was pretty poor, but it at least gave her something else to focus on, and seemed to make the others students feel better about their own work. “Hey, Philip,” She called out to the student next to her prosthetic. “Could you give me a refill? I've run out of orange again.” She gestured with the brush to the empty orange spot on the painting board. Philip obliged her, but before he went back to his own work, she asked one more favor. “Thanks. Could you hold the board and brush for a moment? The straps on my prosthetic were designed to fit me, and they just don't want to stay tight on this darn stool.” She griped as she fumbled with the straps, trying to get a tighter fit. After some more fiddling she waved her arms left, then right, and the chair tipped a bit but her prosthetic did not move on the chair. “Thanks, Philip.” She said as she took the brush and paint platter back and resumed painting. He gave her a friendly, if bemused look. “Not a problem, though I have to admit, this is the first time I've seen one of our models do a self-portrait.” “Well, I suppose I could have brought a video game or something, but even if I'm not much of a painter, I can still appreciate what you're doing. Where else am I going to get instruction and class credit for this all in one?” She added in warm tones, wanting to smile but unable to do so. “Hmf. Well normally I could give better pointers than this, but the prof wasn't kidding when he said you were a challenge. After painting nothing but people and fruit, a... pony... takes some getting used to.” He finished, squinting at his canvas as he tried to get the shade of her wings right. “Not to be blunt, but you seem a bit... different from the others in this class. Are you a theater major?” “Mechanical engineering, actually. I've always had some skill as a draftsman, and this seemed like an opportunity to get better and fill a class requirement at the same time.” He thought for a moment. “You're pre-med right? Heavy on the biology, chemistry and science?” “You got it. I'm not bad, but the course load here is so much heavier than back in high school. Bio-Chem isn't such a big deal if it’s one of only three classes, but when the count gets up to seven even I have to work to keep up.” Their conversation continued for quite a while, and Scootaloo found herself gesturing with her prosthetic more than actually painting as they discussed their majors and favorite classes. He looked her over thoughtfully. “Say, I don't ask this of every nude girl I meet, but you're pretty interesting yourself. I was planning to go to Comedy Caravan down at the student union tonight with some friends of mine. Would you like to come along?” She blushed at having to answer in front of the class, several of whom were listening more than painting by now. “Yeah, I think I might enjoy that. Mind if I bring some friends of my own?” He smiled as he re-filled his own orange. “The more the merrier. I'll see you there around eight?” She agreed, and they finished out the session just talking and comparing classes. She wasn't sure how much she liked him, but as the bad memories of earlier dates had begun to fade with time, she was feeling more willing to give dating a try again. ... At dinner that night, Scootaloo caught up with Cat, Josie and Demi, filling them in on her 'date' later that night. “Way to go, Scoot!” Josie hugged her after hearing the news. “It's about time we got you back into the game.” Scootaloo returned her friends hug. “You're one to talk. I was actually hoping you guys could come with me.” “Oh, a double date?” Cat asked. “And with an engineer? Count me in.” Scoot let go and picked up her fork as she replied with a frown. “You have a thing for engineers? MRS degree much?” Cat just laughed. “You've never dated one have you?” Scootaloo looked a bit confused. “No... This is only my first year at college. Heck, by rights I should still be in my last year of baby sitting – I mean high school.” She added, making the slip on purpose. “Demi, you're majoring in engineering; do you know what she's talking about?” Demi leaned over and exchanged a few words with Catherine, and suddenly his eyes opened wide. “Oh! That.” Scootaloo fixed him with a raised eyebrow and waited. “What she means it that engineers build things to... make life better.” He fumbled for a moment trying to find the words, but as none came, he shrugged and finished as best he could. “We train on how to build things and improve designs. Your prosthetic is one example – you needed arms, so engineers built you some.” Scootaloo nodded, but did not lower her eyebrow, while beside her Josie seemed to have an epiphany, and had to turn away as her face began to redden. “Well, what if you needed help with sex? Who did you think builds and manufactures all the sex toys you can find on the market?” Scootaloo smirked and shook her head. “Ah.” “And besides the generic, one size fits all stuff, having a dedicated engineer, or at least engineer in training,” he added self deprecatingly, “can result in some awesome custom designs. Remember that time last year when I asked to borrow one of your anatomy text books Scoot?” She nodded, wondering if she really wanted to hear where this was going. “Well, that gave me a good figure for depth, and with the addition of a twelve volt battery to drive the surplus windshield wiper motor I had a working prototype in just a couple of days.” Josie's eyes had suddenly gotten very large as it was clear her absent minded brother wasn't making up a thing, just explaining a fun project to friends. “Well the first round of testing showed some design flaws, but you may remember that later that week I returned your book to you and asked if you could get me an empty IV bag from your job with the ambulance service?” Scootaloo nodded, suddenly afraid of what fate had befallen it. “Well, once I refilled it with an appropriate anti-friction solution, we had to experiment to find out how high to hang it to get the right flow rate, but that solved the main problem. It took a while longer to come up with a truly universal mounting bracket system, and then modify all the ends with a delivery system.” He smiled at Scootaloo. “Remember how I asked you to explain the 'weeping wing' de-icing system used on small aircraft? The one that coats the leading edge of the wing with de-icing fluid to protect against ice build-up in bad weather? That really helped a lot, and I copied some of the design elements directly from the design drawing you gave me.” He added with a smile as Scootaloo stared and Josie tried to pick her jaw up off the floor. Cat had put down her fork and was paying rapt attention as Demi continued. “Now the attachment system proved a tougher challenge. We needed one that prevented escape but was also comfortable for several hours at-” “DEMIJOHN!” Josie shouted at him, breaking his train of thought. He looked at his younger sister with mild surprise. “Yeah, sis?” “Too! Much! Information!” Her face was beet red and she actually grabbed a book from her backpack and hid behind it as she continued. “What have I told you about TMI!?” He seemed to think over what he had been saying, and began to blush just a little as Scootaloo and Catherine tried not to giggle. “Oh...” Then apparently attempting to cover his mistake he added. “But remember when I ordered the parts you asked me what they were for and Melissa interrupted? I just thought you wanted-” “No, no, no, no, no!” She complained from behind the safety of her textbook. “I didn't want to know!” Scootaloo and Cat both lost it at this point and broke down in a fit of the giggles as Josie added tones of mock distress. “I hate everything. Hate the world.” Several minutes later, after they had all managed to settle down again Scootaloo repeated her question. “Anyway. Would you guys like to come with me to Comedy Caravan at the student union building after dinner?” “Sure thing.” Cat replied. Josie grimaced. “Well after that sterling recommendation we just got from my brother, how could I turn down the chance to meet Scoot's new engineer?”