Don't Stop Dancing, Scootaloo
Four
Late morning. Apple Bloom spread fresh straw across the sty, mane damp with sweat. Her muscles burnt, but she didn't ease up save to occasionally pet one of the pigs, savouring companionship simple and unburdened by worry. Then she would start thinking about Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle and throw herself back into work again. It had been two days since their argument, and she had barely seen either since. Sweetie was occupied with her party planning, and Scootaloo … Well, she didn't know where Scootaloo had been spending her time outside of dance class lately.
“Howdy, Apple Bloom.” Applejack stood on her hindlegs outside the sty, knees hooked over the fence.
Bloom, dropping the straw, struggled to catch her breath. “Hey … Hey, sis.”
“Could swear I said you could finish up an hour ago.”
“I know. But I saw the state the pigs were in and figured it needed doin'”
“Uh huh.” Applejack surveyed the sty. “Well, that's some mighty fine work you've done. Time was, you couldn't wait to finish your chores so you could go racin' off with your friends to some kinda trouble.”
“Thanks,” said Apple Bloom. “Just part of growin' up, I guess.”
Applejack sighed. “But that ain't all, am I right?”
“Whatcha mean?”
“I know what you're doin'. Some ponies, see, hide from work. We Apples ain't like that. We hide with work. I know what that looks like 'cause I've done it plenty of times. I've seen your brother do it plenty of times. I appreciate the extra help and all, and I surely won't badmouth a strong work ethic, but hidin' from your problems ain't healthy no matter how you cut it.”
Apple Bloom leaned to the side, letting the fence take her weight, and nodded. “The Crusaders … we had a falling out. A big one this time. Well, sorta. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo had an argument.”
“I see. What happened?”
“We were going to practice our set for Sweetie Belle's birthday, but Scootaloo turned up late. And Sweetie Belle was really angry. She yelled at Scoots, Scoots yelled back, and things went on as they do.”
Applejack looked out across the horizon before turning back to Apple Bloom. “Are you sure that's all? Sweetie Belle ain't the type of pony to get very angry over something like that, is she?”
“I guess not. Thing is, Scootaloo has been actin' a little off for a while now. She …” Apple Bloom stopped herself before she could mention the nightclub or the mead. “She's been real … 'delinquent' is what Sweetie Belle said, and I figure that's close.”
“So you agree with Sweetie Belle?”
“No! I dunno. Maybe. She has a point an' all, but she's not being very sympathetic about it. She asked Scootaloo if anythin' was wrong and Scootaloo got all defensive, so there's that too. Now Sweetie won't even listen to me when I try an' talk about it, and I can't even find Scootaloo.” Apple Bloom slumped to the ground. “I dunno, sis. I don't think either of them are right to get so angry. I'm just stuck in the middle, and I hate it.”
“Don't sound like you're having much fun at all,” said Applejack, ruffling Apple Bloom's mane. “D'you want me to try talkin' to either of 'em? I reckon I'm a mite skilled at getting' sense into a pony's head.”
“Nah,” said Apple Bloom. “Thanks. But I ain't a filly no more. Gotta fight my own battles, right?” She snorted softly. “I just gotta … I dunno. I reckon I'll come up with somethin'. Eventually.”
“Look at me, A.B. They'll come around, I promise you.”
“You think?”
“'Course I do. Element of Honesty for three years, remember? I've seen the three of you grow up together and I can tell you now: No matter what it is that's causin' this, there ain't no way it's gonna hurt your friendship. Might take a while, but you'll beat it. I know you will.”
Apple Bloom allowed herself a small smile.
“Even the best ponies can be dumb, stubborn things sometimes,” continued Applejack. “And sometimes, all you can do is be there for 'em and be willing to offer a hoof when they need it. So you do that, y'hear?”
“I … Yes, sis.” Apple Bloom nodded.
“Now,” said Applejack. “I reckon the sty is about done. Finish up with the straw, then come inside, and I'll get some soup, okay? I don't want you dropping from exhaustion.”
“Okay,” said Apple Bloom. She spread the last bit of straw across the floor and let herself out of the sty. “Thanks,” she said to Applejack, as they trotted back towards the farmhouse.
*
Midday. Scootaloo trotted down the road to the practice hall. Right now, Sweetie Belle would be there with her friends from Music Society. Scootaloo tried not to think about that. She was here for a different reason.
Talking to Marble had helped. Sort of. He was a good listener, if only because he was so timid. Not so great at responding, though. When she talked about being flightless, he had offered a few unchallenging and meaningless words of encouragement, then encouraged her in that oh-so-subtle way of his to lie beside him on the couch for a while. But since talking to him, the searing anger and loneliness had receded into a mere dull ache. That was something she could handle, something she could hide from other ponies.
It still wasn't fun. Maybe that was just another part of growing up, and Scootaloo would just have to learn to live with it. But she wasn't ready to accept that just yet. There was another pony she wanted to talk to.
There she was, working with vapour, making something weird and complex. Broken glass still lay on the ground nearby. This time Scootaloo didn't have anypony to discourage her. This time she was sober.
“Hey,” she said, walking over to the mare.
The mare looked round at Scootaloo. “Hello, you!” she said brightly. Her smile was wide and welcoming and sincere, her right eye, Scootaloo only now noticed, off kilter.
Asking about the vapour suddenly seemed rude and intrusive. Why are you doing something so silly? What pony would like to be asked that out of the blue? Scootaloo searched for something better to say.
“What's your name?” she came up with eventually. What a lame thing to say.
The mare didn't seem to notice. “You can call me Dee,” she said, chipper as before. She left the blob of vapour she was working on and gave Scootaloo her full attention. “And what about you, sweetheart?”
“Scootaloo.”
“Pleased to meet you, Scootaloo!” The mare grinned and held out her hoof for Scootaloo to shake.
“Yeah, uh, about that,” said Scootaloo afterwards. “When I was here before …”
Dee cocked her head, frowning a little.
“A couple days ago.” Scootaloo gestured at the broken glass.
“Oh yeah!” Dee nodded, excited again. “You were totally hammered!”
Scootaloo looked down and stifled a sigh.
“Aw, nothing wrong with that sometimes! Just so long as you aren't puking on Mayor Mare during a speech, right?”
A smirk, unbidden, flickered across Scootaloo's lips. “Yeah, I guess so.” She looked up at Dee. At her good eye, anyway. “What happened?”
“You fell on your face! Well, almost. Nothing wrong with that, either. This one time I fell over eight times in one day.” She leaned forwards and whispered conspiratorially in Scootaloo's ear. “And I wasn't even drunk.” When she leaned back, she seemed quite proud of herself.
"But I didn't fall,” said Scootaloo. “'Cause you caught me.”
“Yep!”
“Then what?”
“I took you home! Well, not straight away. You were kinda dazed for a while, and I couldn't get you to stand up. But after that you started to look a bit better, and you told me which way to take you. So I did. Stopped you from falling a few more times on the way, too.”
Scootaloo looked down again. “Thanks,” she said. “And … sorry about being such a foal.”
“Oh, no. Don't worry about it. You just needed some help, and I happened to be there.” Dee put a hoof under Scootaloo's chin and raised her gaze. “We all all need help sometimes, right? Doesn't make you a foal. If it did, gee, I'd need my bottle right around now.”
Scootaloo laughed.
“Seriously, though, I'm hungry. Just a moment.” Dee trotted over to a satchel beside her stove. “You want anything? I've only got cress and lettuce. Ooh, and some petunias.”
“S'okay,” said Scootaloo. “I'm cool.” She looked up at the sky for a moment and breathed deep. “By the way, if you ever get super drunk I totally promise I'll walk you home.”
Dee looked up. For a fraction of a second, her smile faltered. Or, at least, Scootaloo thought it did – moments later, munching petunias, she was cheerful again: “Sounds like an excellent excuse to go though a bottle of wine or two.”
“Totally!”
“My friends keep bringing me wine, and I keep misplacing it.” Dee snorted and stuck her tongue out in mock annoyance. “But hey, maybe one day we'll find it all and have a massive party!”
“Hah! That would be awesome.” Scootaloo offered a hoof-bump and Dee dutifully returned it.
Swallowing the last of the petunias, she said “I'm afraid I need to get back to work now.”
“Oh,” said Scootaloo. “Okay.”
“But it's been lovely talking to you, Scootaloo. Drop by any time you like, yeah?”
Scootaloo nodded. “Of course!” And, as she was trotting away: “Mares like us gotta look out for each other right?”
Dee frowned. “Like us?”
Scootaloo chewed her lip. “Nevermind!” she called. “Seeya, Dee!”
“Bye bye!” Dee waved so enthusiastically she nearly fell over.
When Scootaloo was on the other side of Ponyville, almost home, she realised two things: First, she had forgotten to ask what Dee was making; second, she was walking with a spring in her step and a smile on her face for the first time in days. Only one of those was important.
*
Early afternoon. Sweetie Belle packed away her music stand and microphone in the practice hall's cabinet. This was the first time she had been back here since her argument with Scootaloo. Reminded of it, she snorted with frustration and gave the door a dainty kick.
“Something bothering you?” said a voice behind her.
She turned. Violet Velvet stood there, holding a music stand and looking concerned.
“Oh, no. Nothing, really.” Sweetie Belle moved aside.
“Are you sure?” said Violet. She put her music stand in the cabinet beside Sweetie Belle's. “Young mare with her fifteenth coming up. It's going to be absolutely brilliant. You'd think she'd be just a little excited. But no, she spends a whole hour of practice distracted and moping.”
“I wasn't moping!” said Sweetie Belle.
“You weren't?” Violet cocked her head. “I saw none of that Sweetie Belle exuberance I've come to know and love. You started singing our first piece off-key; you never sing off-key. And you just inflicted violence on a poor innocent door.”
“I –” began Sweetie Belle.
“Oh, and a word of advice. Only ponies who aren't okay are so quick to claim that they are when asked. Trust me, I may as well have a second cutie mark for reading behaviour.
“What all that adds up to is that you –” Violet tapped Sweetie Belle's nose with a hoof “– are not a happy pony. Which brings me back to where we started: Something bothering you?”
Sweetie Belle studied Violet's face. She looked sincere, but with Violet Velvet one could never tell. Formerly one of the quietest foals in the school, now sometimes she was the amoral social butterfly and incorrigible gossip, and sometimes she was the completely selfless companion.
Sweetie Belle didn't know whether she could think of Violet as a real friend. But then, it seemed that lately she wasn't doing very well at knowing who her real friends were.
She decided to take a risk.
“Yeah, kinda.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I guess so.”
“Come on, then. Let's take a walk.” Violet put her hoof on Sweetie Belle's withers, then turned to the rest of the mares in the hall. “Sweetie and I are going out ahead. You girls don't mind closing up on your own, do you? No? Good.”
Out on the road – the same road the Crusaders would walk on the way to Morral's, Sweetie thought – Violet pushed again: “What happened, Sweetie Belle?”
“I … We had a bit of an argument. The Crusaders, I mean.”
“I see.” Violet's eyes narrowed. “All three of you?”
“Well, no. Mostly it was Scootaloo. Scootaloo and me.”
“Ah,” said Violet. “That little thug.”
“Violet!”
“What? You know my feelings about her.”
“And we agreed, remember? You wouldn't speak ill of Scootaloo, and I wouldn't speak ill of Diamond Tiara.”
“Speaking of which, I don't know why you insist on letting a little spat as fillies get in the way of your adult relationships.”
Sweetie stopped and glared at Violet. “It wasn't a little spat. Diamond Tiara is a bitch!”
Violet stopped a few feet ahead of Sweetie Belle, calmly returning her gaze. “Okay, Sweetie Belle. I apologise. I shouldn't have leapt in to attack Scootaloo so quickly.” She started walking again. “So what happened between you two?”
“She was late to out last practice session, and she didn't care …”
Violet didn't respond, so Sweetie kept going.
“She's just … so reckless. I'm sure there's something upsetting her, but she's too stubborn to tell us. She screws up but doesn't apologise. In fact, she doesn't seem to care at all. It's like she's not interested in having me and Bloom as friends any more. She just wants to hang out all the time with that dumb colt Marble from her dance class.”
“Well, there you go,” said Violet. “Come on, Sweetie. Even you see it now. Scootaloo's a thug! She doesn't even know who her father is. And she's “hanging out” with a colt? A slut too, I bet. You're better than her. You've got class. And talent. So much talent. Don't let her drag you down. Drop her, drop this silly little rock act you've got going. You don't need it; our act is going to be amazing all by itself!”
Sweetie Belle stopped again. Looking at Violet's vile, insouciant grin, she could barely contain herself. “How dare you?” she said at last.
Violet's grin vanished. “Pardon?”
“You pretend to care just so you can drive a wedge between Scootaloo and me! That's really low. We had an argument, sure, but you don't get to talk about my friend that way, Violet Velvet! Never!” Her breath rapid and sharp, Sweetie advanced towards Violet, who retreated in equal measure. “And yes, she is my friend!” She looked down. “She … is my friend.”
Without another word, she turned from Violet and galloped off down the road. She had to find Apple Bloom. And then, together, they would find Scootaloo. They would make everything right again.
*