//------------------------------// // Guest Speaker // Story: Timed Ramblings // by Midnight herald //------------------------------// Scootaloo shook her hair into its normal, unruly state and peered through the door anxiously. The sliver of room she could see was full of dazedly bored fillies and colts, slouching at their desks as their teacher droned on. She fidgeted with the flight goggles around her neck, making sure they lay just enough off-kilter that she looked like she didn’t really care how she looked. Sure, her personal stylists would go off the wall, but she wasn’t here for them. She wasn’t really here for herself, either. “... And now, if you could please put your hooves together, we have a very special guest speaker today,” The teacher said, finally sounding excited about something. She glanced at the door nervously, and Scootaloo walked in, pushing the door aside with a mix of humility and coolness that had taken weeks of practice to perfect. She grinned a little as the entire classroom sat up straighter, as unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies alike whispered to each other in awed excitement, as their bright young eyes sparkled, starstruck. Yep, still got the magic. She cleared her throat when she reached the teacher’s desk and the room went completely silent. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck and she shifted, minutely. Crowds were fine by now. HUndreds upon hundreds of ponies watching her every move was so commonplace by now that Scootaloo barely gave it a second thought. But 17 children who looked up to her? Absolutely terrifying. The pressure of the situation prickled across Scootaloo’s chest like static, and she barely kept herself from running. “So I guess a couple of you have heard of me, then?” She began. The smattering of awkward laughter that followed her cheesy joke helped her find her center and pull her game face on. She chuckled lightly and swept over the crowd of fascinated students, meeting each one eye to eye for slightly less than a second. “You start a new organized sport and suddenly everypony knows your name or something…” A few more sniggers from that line. Perfect. She had their attention. “So yeah, even I’ll admit I’ve done some pretty cool stuff,” she continued, “but that’s not why I’m standing here in front of you all.” She paused a second and waited for that to sink in. “See, I’m here today for a bigger reason than athletics. I’m here today to tell you a story. “See, when I was a filly, around your age, I was bullied, I was harassed, I was humiliated … because I didn’t have a cutie mark.” Cue the dramatic gasping, like always. “I was one of the last three little ponies to get mine, actually. And it was hard.” She’d started pacing and reminded herself to slow down. Motion helped her talk, helped her think, but too much would distract the students from her story - Sweetie’d said so, and Sweetie knew more about audiences than anypony else Scootaloo knew. So she kept it as mild as she could. “Because it wasn’t just my Cutie Mark that was late in coming. I couldn’t fly, either. I could barely hover when I was nine years old, and I hated that I was so weak, so helpless… I felt broken, a lot of the time. Like there was something wrong with me and that’s why I was still a blank-flank. I felt like the world was spitting on me and I deserved it. “I had some friends, though. They were actually the other two blank-flanks in the schoolroom. We’d get into trouble all the time, by trying things out as our special talent, or just by being the crazy kids we were.” Scootaloo stopped herself entirely and grinned at the class. “How many of you listen to Sweetie Belle?” she asked. About half of the students’ hooves shot into the air. “Would you believe that she was one of my blank-flanked friends?” Cue more shocked gasping. “She and my other friend Apple Bloom … You know, the inventor?” More nods. “The three of us were almost done with school when we finally figured out what we wanted to do. And look at us now, yeah? We’re doing alright for ourselves, don’t you think?” Even more nods. “Sometimes I think the reason we took so long to get there was because we never felt safe enough to really try things out. Our sisters and friends, our teachers all couldn’t take us seriously after the first few times we nearly destroyed the town. And somewhere along the line, we stopped taking ourselves seriously, either. The three of us were the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and we could do anything, but time and time again we were shown that we could never do anything well enough. “It hurt, feeling that way. It hurt, seeing our classmates laughing at our latest attempts, and it hurt when the nastier ones called us names, or called us out, or rubbed their talents in our faces. But eventually, we got there. Eventually, we realized that it didn’t matter if we had our Cutie Marks, so long as we found something to do that brought us joy. We realized that having a cutie mark didn’t make our classmates better than us. And most importantly, we got there. We found our special talents. We got so good at what we loved to do that we became some of the best at what we do, and we want to show any of you late bloomers that it’s alright to take your time. “So we started the Crusaders Foundation. It’s a nationwide mentoring program designed to help fillies and colts who don’t know what they want to do yet. Every pony who applies can explore different interests until they decide which one they really love to do. Then they’re paired with an older pony who shares the interest, and together they experiment with it. That’s why I’m here today, really. To let you know that there’s a place for you if you don’t fit in. There’s a safe place for you to go if you don’t know what you’ll be doing with your life.” Scootaloo glanced at the wide-eyed young foals in front of her one more time, meeting each of their eyes for slightly less than a second. “The Crusaders Foundation is only a letter away, if you need anything. And we’ll help any way we can.” She glanced at the teacher, cuing with her eyes. “Does anypony have any questions for Ms. Scootaloo?” The teacher asked. Dozens of young hooves shot in the air. Scootaloo flashed her trademark grin without even thinking. Stuntwork was great, flying was awesome, but this … This is what she was meant to do.