//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Featherweight // Story: Growing Up // by TheCacophonousMuse //------------------------------// Chapter 1: Featherweight “Come on,” Pipsqueak called from up ahead. “We don't want to be late for our first day.” Featherweight was trotting behind his friend, trying to keep up while fiddling with his camera. He shivered, eying Pip's scarf enviously. Sure, he did have his ratty old coat in his saddlebags, but he wanted to make a good impression, to look cool— and especially to not look like he was the perfect size to be shoved inside a locker. Pip didn't seem to ever have these problems. Despite his being smaller than even Featherweight (albeit slightly stockier), nopony ever seemed to pick on him. He always seemed to naturally become the leader of everything. Though he wasn't a tall or imposing figure, there was a feeling surrounding him, a sense of confidence that he exuded. Featherweight never seemed to feel the same about his own environs. They'd first met when Pipsqueak's family moved in right next door to Featherweight's house a little over two years ago, and over the course of that summer, they had become best friends. Featherweight hadn't exactly been cool before he'd become friends with Pip— he'd been a little bit of a loner, actually— but being friends with Pipsqueak soon changed that for him. Pipsqueak was cool, what with his British accent and European fashion sense, and so Featherweight had become cool by extension. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon suddenly knew his name, and he never had to sit with Twist at lunch anymore. It was a bit challenging sometimes, yeah. He was always living in Pip's shadow. Pip was the one who had a fillyfriend, who knew about all sorts of stuff. So mostly Featherweight just stuck to his photography and let Pip handle the whole social aspect of everything. “... Featherweight?” Pip's voice cut through his thoughts. “Sorry, what was that?” The two rounded a corner. “Have you read the newest issue of 'Power Ponies' yet?” Featherweight shook his head. “Sorry, I've been busy trying to put a portfolio together for the photo teacher at school.” Pip laughed. “You're taking photo this semester then?” Featherweight smiled. “You bet! I can't wait to check out the school's dark room.” “You really do have a one track mind,” Pipsqueak teased him. “Photography this, photography that—” “—Oh, shut up.” The two walked up the stairs together and pushed their way through the school's doors. As they navigated through the pony-filled foyer, Pip rummaged through his saddlebags and pulled out his schedule. Featherweight followed suit. “I've got locker eighty-seven,” Pipsqueak read. “Looks like that's down here. What about you?” “Ninety-two, so I should be fairly close. I've got English and Science before lunch,any overlap?” Featherweight asked, pushing between two groups of giggling fillies. “Yeah, I'm in your English class, but I've got maths second period,” Pipsqueak told him, making a face. The two came to the end of the hallway and found their lockers. Featherweight began to unload his books into his locker, picking out the ones he would need for English. While he was sorting his books, Snails came up and opened the locker beside him; they exchanged a casual greeting. He was part of their social circle— Pipsqueak and Featherweight, Snips, Snails, and Dinky before she'd left and definitely a friend, but he was on the fringe of the group. He didn't read 'Power Ponies' or play hoofball with them, always opting to sit out of the more exciting stunts that their group pulled. After he and Snips had grown apart, he'd mostly hang out with Dinky; when she'd left, it had put him at kind of an awkward place. Still, he was a friend, certainly a better locker mate than, say, Diamond Tiara would be. Featherweight didn't think that she'd ever forgive him for taking over the editing of the Foal Free Press, and even without any reason for her to be angry, he was still terrified of her. At that moment the bell rang, and Featherweight and Snails finished shoving the last of their books into their lockers and ran to catch up with Pipsqueak, who was walking to class with Snips. They hurried into the English room and found four seats together near the middle of the room. * * * Featherweight slipped into his desk beside Pipsqueak as the bell rang. He recognized several of the faces in the English class— there was Pipsqueak beside him, as well as Snips and Snails in front of them. Over at the other side of the room, Rumble was talking to Button about some new video game, and those three slightly weird fillies— the cutie mark club, or something like that— were talking amongst themselves in the corner. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were behind him, giggling at some other pony's expense, and Twist sat in her customary seat in the center of the front row. Applebloom glanced up and caught his eye before looking away, and he wondered if her group was talking about him. At that moment, a stallion entered the room. He had a dark brown coat and a book on his flank, and his trot had a distinctive bounce to it; to Featherweight, he seemed a good deal more energetic than he ought to be. “All right, settle down,” he called out, slowly bringing down the dull clamor of the room. “Welcome to English class! I'm Mr. Limerick, and I'll be your teacher.” He picked up a stack of papers from his desk. “I thought, it's a new school year, and your very first class in middle school... so why not start it off with your very first pop quiz!” There was a collective groan from the class. “You have ten minutes to complete this quiz,” he told them, walking along the desks, handing out thick wads of paper to each student. He set the last one down on Diamond Tiara's desk and glanced up at the clock. “All right... on your marks... begin!” There was a sound of pages flipping as the class opened their tests. Featherweight read: 1.)Read through the entire quiz. 2.)Rub your tummy and pat your head at the same time 3.)Stand on your desk. You've always wanted to, haven't you? 4.)Shake hands with some other pony taking the test. 5.)... Featherweight glanced up at the clock. He'd already lost a minute, and the questions continued on for three pages. He started rubbing his tummy and patting his head immediately. As he got up on his desk, he couldn't help but glance around at the other test takers. It was amusing to watch Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon running around and doing the various activities, but it was even more curious to see that some ponies weren't even trying. Maybe they realized that it was a futile aim to finish? After a few more minutes of running around, he heard Mr. Limerick call “time!” He had just barely managed to finish number 31 (“Draw a smiley face”, just onto the second of three pages). Immediately, a bunch of ponies began to complain. “That was impossible!” he heard Diamond Tiara whining from behind him. Despite their differences, he couldn't help but agree with her. Mr. Limerick went up to the fillies near the front. “You there, what's your name?” “Me? I'm Scootaloo!” “And how do you think you did.” “Uh... I probably failed.” He took a step over. “How about you, young filly?” Sweetie Belle cringed. “I think I probably failed as well.” “And you?” he asked, turning to Applebloom. She had a smug expression on her face. “Ah think ah aced it,” she replied. There were a couple shouts of disbelief from around her. “These ponies seem incredulous,” Mr. Limerick told her. “Perhaps you'd like to explain why you think you aced it?” “Well, uh, sure.” Applebloom turned around to address her classmates. “How many of you actually did the first question?” Featherweight glanced back down at his test. He hadn't completed “1.) Read through the entire quiz,” sure. He'd felt like he didn't have time. “Well, why don't you do it now,” Applebloom told the class. Featherweight read through the questions again, right down to “99.) If you actually read the whole quiz like Question 1 asked, disregard Questions 2 through 98.” There was more groaning from the class. “Now,” said Mr. Limerick, standing back up in front of them. “This quiz won't be graded. This was just a little experiment to play around with our perceptions of directions and what they mean. That's why we'll be focusing on this year. Directions and authority, and what they mean to us. We'll cover the basic aspects of the equestrian government, read some of the more prominent works of civil disobedience, and work on recognizing the place that authority has in an egalitarian society such as our own. “Now, we're just about finished for this period, but I'd like to go over your homework assignment. Over the course of this class, we're all going to be keeping diaries. Now, I don't care what you write in your diary. You could write about what happened in your day, you could write a short story, or you could write about how much you hate English class. I won't be checking what it says, I'll just be checking to make sure that you've done it. So your assignment for tomorrow is to write your first diary entries. Class dismissed.” And with that, the usual flood for the exit commenced. * * * “How was your day?” Featherweight dropped his bag on the sofa. Whenever his mom wasn't home— which was getting to be more and more often now— he was able to leave his stuff wherever he wanted. He supposed that some of his friends would enjoy the freedom, but it just made him feel a little bit of a pang inside. “It was good. I've already got a fair bit of homework, and it's only the first day.” He sauntered over to join his dad at the kitchen table. His dad, Buff Biceps, was fairly different from him, but they managed to get along okay. There was always a sort of nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he was disappointing his father in some way, but his father never ragged on him about anything. “I've got to do a diary entry for English, contact my lab partner for science, and I've got to do some history research by Wednesday. Plus I want to finish getting my portfolio together, since I've got photo tomorrow. How was your day?” “Fine. The gym's been busier than usual lately, but it's probably just since it's getting colder outside, and ponies want to exercise indoors more. You didn't see your mom on the way to school, did you?” Featherweight shook his head. Buff frowned down at his beer. “Well, I'd better get to my homework. Mind if I use the phone?” His father waved a hoof. “Nah, go right ahead.” Featherweight took the phone of it's hook and the phone-book from its drawer before retreating to the confines of his room. He flopped down on his bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, before he flipped open the book. He dialed the numbers carefully, making sure to only press one button each time with the very corner of his hoof; he hated wrong numbers. He put the phone to his ear. Riiiiiiinnnngggg. He waited. Riiiiiiinnnngggg. He heard a clunk of the phone being picked up. “Sweet apple acres, what can we do ya for?” “Um, hey. This is Featherweight. I'm calling to talk to Applebloom.” He closed the phonebook on his bed. “Hold yer horses fer just a second, Ah'll go get her.” He heard the sound of a hoof covering the phone. “Big Mac, have you seen Applebloom?” he heard her muffled voice filter through the phone. “Eeyup.” “Is she in her room?” “Eeyup.” “APPLEBLOOM!” Some crunchy noises filtered through the phone. “Phone call.” Finally, he heard a couple more thumps, and then his classmate's voice. “Hello?” “Um, hey Applebloom. It's Featherweight.” “Oh, uh, hey.” “Just calling since, you know, we're supposed to contact our lab partners and make sure that we can and all that.” “Oh, uh... yeah.” There was a pause. “Well, tha's done, Ah guess. Anythin' else?” “Um, no. Not really.” “Well, see you in school tomorrow.” “Yeah. I'm really excited to take photo. Are you taking it?” “No. I'm taking wood shop. I think. Um, yeah.” “All right.” There was another pause. “Well, bye, Ah guess.” “Uh, yeah. Sure. Bye.” The phone disconnected with a buzzing sound. Featherweight set it down beside the bed. Now that that was out of the way, he could get to the important stuff. He pulled out his photography portfolio and began sorting through the photos. Middle school was going to be tough, sure. At least he had his photography.