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// No Place Like Home 
// Story: School Days 
// by Dai Kirai 
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	It wasn’t long before Stormy arrived at the house he grew up in. He had done everything he could to avoid this place the last few years. It was in Middle Canterlot, a place desired to raise young foals or as payment for many years of good management. 
Stormy didn’t have the key, hadn’t had one in years but he wanted to drop off his bags before going back to the castle. He knocked a few times just to be safe, he had always been a terrible liar. If they didn’t answer he could at least say the effort had been made. And if nopony was home than he could just leave his bags by the door, this area was safe enough that it would never be touched, or he could just take it with him to the castle. Although he had to leave a note so his parents knew he was there. 
Stormy decided to stop knocking and leave, which was a good thing as the door opened. If he hadn’t his hoof would have landed right on his mother’s sky blue snout. She was the same as at the last Hearth’s Warming family dinner. One of the few times a year everypony gathered around a single table.
“Thunder Cloud would never have been so inconsiderate. Your brother always informed us of changes to his plans.” The older mare lectured, for what the younger pegasus felt was the thousandth time. Several loose strands of her main floated in the wind. “It’s bad enough you feel the need to abandon your duties and life here but to make me stay home and wait for you is something else.” Clear Blue Skies walked past her son, leaving the door wide open. “There is some leftover braised beets in the fridge.” A shade of warmth to her voice. Stormy had never been able to read his mother, she was generally bright and happy but very cool to anypony. 
The entranceway was the same as always with its blue and white walls that simulated the sky, something his parents missed in Canterlot and a view that spread throughout the house. The same multihued sitting pillows laid in precise piles, side tables held coasters and some books. To the right was a standard pony kitchen, the only kind he had ever known. 
Stormy was tired, but braised beets were a really good dish and his parents always knew how to cook. He knew the food was stored in the cloud box, a winter storm kept in the kitchen to keep food cold, they sat by themselves on a shelf. The pegasus set them on a plate he pulled from the cabinets. There was always the option of heating them in the oven, but that took time, time he didn’t want to waste so he bit into the first beet. Red sweet juice dribbled down his chin and discolored his yellow fur. It was a surprisingly good and familiar flavor as the pieces and juice trickled down his throat. It seemed like only one bite but the two beets had already disappeared. 
Stormy washed his plate before putting it back in the cabinet. He then headed off to his room. The pegasus could have sworn the hallway was longer but he took the second left and entered his old room. Entering alone was a shock as boxes and items were stacked floor to ceiling. Many were his own, items from his apartment that would be stored here, but others were a complete mystery and the only free space was a foot in any direction around his naked bed and a route to the door. It was a weird feeling to see his whole life packed up in his foalhood room. Memories, playing Cloud Strike with Thunder Cloud, when his brother intentionally lost after Stormy had been picked on for getting his cutie mark so late. Cloud Kicker teaching him how to buck his first cloud and his fun little trick with morning fog. Now it was all boxed up until he moved back to Equestria in four years or quit school. 


***


Stormy woke up in a pool of drool, the melancholic thoughts of earlier half jumbled. Outside it was dark, silver slivers of luminous light of Luna’s moon struck through the window and bounced off the walls. The watch said it was 9pm, he yawned and stretched, despite his mood there was something deep inside that still felt hopeful. But trying to move around the room showed that to be a bit hopeful as he stumbled into a stack of boxes that caused them to topple and he himself stumbling the other direction until he smacked into the bed. Stormy Skies just stood there a moment. A brief look at his watch told him it was eleven at night. 
There was a hoofknock at his open bedroom door, the solid rap of a stallion. Storm Front entered, hair a scatter as if he just walked through a hurricane, something that would not have surprised the young pegasus. “Glad you are finally up. Have some really amazing news.” Firm voice like concrete resounded from the walls. “I got you a job at the weather factory working under your brother. It’s full-time and starts in the morning. And if you change your mind about this silly Earth thing you can start moving up the promotion path within six months, maybe a year.”
“I can’t quit, Not now.” Stormy hesitantly stated, his father was a hard one to predict; he could either blow past or blow up. “And I needed to do some research at Canterlot Library.”
Storm Front’s glossy grey/silver coat rippling, giving sight to the stray strands of yellow that permeated his body. “Do you have any idea how many strings I had to pull to get you this job? I had to trade one of my best rainmakers to Whinnietonka just to make an opening. Your trivial reading of whatever story you are using to escape the world this time can wait until you have a day off. Those books will still be there.  You are always welcome here, but so long as you live under our roof you will perform a reputable job. Celestia willing you will one day find a mare and start your own family, preferably soon. Just look at the life of your brother. Did you know they’re expecting a foal in a few months?”
Stormy blankly listened to his father. Just another thing he did wrong, another way he didn’t stack up, another way he was a disappointment. The young weather pony absently nodded until his father left then went to his saddle bag. Out came some writing utensils and paper, leftovers from his orientation schedule, and jotted down exactly what he wanted to get done. If he only had his off hours to do these projects it would have to be well planned out. It took only a few minutes to plan out the truly important parts. Then, unable to sleep he pulled out his book, lit a candle and read the night away, driving all thoughts from his current issues.