Her father had said that for every wealthy pony at the top of an enterprise, there were dozens to hundreds of ponies keeping them at that summit. Diamond Tiara had, as with so many words of wisdom from her parent, listened carefully before deciding what the nugget actually meant and in this case, that was 'The best way to get ahead is to have other ponies do all the work for you.' It was a philosophy she could wholeheartedly embrace, and did.
Of course, there were some things a filly still had to accomplish on her own. (Embracing philosophies was one of them: after all, if somepony else got that idea, they might expect Diamond to do all the work on their behalf. It was a concept which had kept her up for three nights in a row before she'd convinced herself nopony else would ever be that bright.) A number of those were simply too pleasurable to give up, like playing and shopping and mockery conducted in tones which no adults ever picked up -- well, hardly ever, and it was Diamond's choice not to remember any slips. But when it came to work, she had been given the secret: delegate. A task for every pony, and the ultimate purpose of all those efforts was to keep her on top. Could there be a worthier goal?
And so, acting on sterling parental advice (which her father actually had quite a lot of, at least when it came to things which didn't involve terminally inferior ponies and why she was supposed to put up with them), Diamond had carefully spread her responsibilities about the classroom, sometimes without the knowledge of those who were doing the work. Class assignments? She would make speeches while facing down the others from the front -- a natural, perfectly welcome position -- but somepony else would write them: it only took her father's senior assistant an hour for each and that was just time he would have used for stupid stuff like his lunch anyway: besides, writing things for her family to say was his job and shouldn't extra work just make him happier?
Homework? Silver Spoon could do that for her, at least for any subject which wasn't history: her best friend had a surprisingly good mind, sometimes bordering what Diamond kept resisting the temptation to label as nerd or geek or anything else which would make the recipient feel horrible about themselves for the sin of being able to think -- but that intellect fell apart any time dates got involved. Silver Spoon had never seen a century she was incapable of confusing with another, which included the one she was living in. Diamond intended to work on the problem, but it currently took third place to making sure the copying was done carefully and that Silver Spoon got a question wrong here and there -- ones Diamond would not. The papers had to be distinguished, after all.
Taking the blame for things she had done? Why, somepony else had done those things. Every time. Those ponies were generally very surprised to discover just how bad they had been, along with what they'd done and where they'd been at the time. She typically left the fumbling denials to them, as she couldn't be expected to cover everything.
And tests? In Diamond's very accurate opinion, Cheerilee was extremely distractible. In fact, casually bring up the right topic just before a quiet period -- like the ones used for test-taking -- began, and the teacher would not roam up and down the aisles making sure nopony was looking at any paper other than their own: she would simply sit behind her desk and silently reflect on whatever it was that the word 'dating' just kept right on triggering. (Diamond was vaguely curious as to just what was going on there, but results were more important than cause. Besides, she didn't need to learn about dating: there simply wasn't anypony in town up to what she expected to be her eventual standards.) Put Cheerilee in the right mood and you could pretty much copy somepony else's paper right out in the open, with 'somepony else' being Silver Spoon, who was only too happy to do all the work on Diamond's behalf. Because they were friends. Also because somepony had to do it and clearly Diamond wasn't going to be it.
Thanks entirely to her father's wonderful advice, those words which only Diamond was intelligent enough to interpret properly, she was largely getting through the semester on the Somepony Else Studied program. And it was wonderful. It gave her extra free time for the fun things. It kept her at the top of the class, which really wasn't important -- but her father had a stupid insistence on her getting good grades and if somepony had to be at the top, Diamond agreed that it really should be her.
There was only a week to go before vacation started. A simple week of doing just about nothing except for memorizing stupid history because her father refused to hire an expert for the retail chain even after all her arguments about how researching marketing throughout the centuries could only benefit the business and incidental knowledge about griffon wars would just help them expand into the Republic... well, anyway, one more week of imprisonment, but a sentence where the hard labor aspects had been properly delegated. And then it was Fun Time.
Diamond smiled to herself, paying absolutely no attention to whatever Cheerilee was mouthwriting on the blackboard because she had somepony to do that for her. She was too busy working on a different kind of note.
Want to hit the bowling alley?
She waited until the teacher's attention was somewhere else, then flipped the note across the gap with an expert head toss. Silver Spoon caught it with near-but-never-equal skill, read it, scribbled on the back.
Too loud. Have to study.
All around them, other ponies were dutifully trying to memorize the information Cheerilee was giving them, because they were all stupid. Diamond happily basked in her own superiority, then composed the response, still using the same piece of paper. Ripping sounds could draw undue attention.
But we can make fun of the dumb bowlers! Half an hour?
Got to pass. During vacation?
Diamond pouted: not getting her way was an unnatural event and normally had to be discouraged, stopped, or outright kicked at every turn. But in this case, she was aware that her friend was looking out for her welfare, because 'got to pass' meant Diamond had to pass. So -- maybe she'd let Silver get away with it this time.
Fine. Study outside the alley?
Never entirely, of course. That was just bad form.
She watched Silver frown at the note (and something would have to be said about that later), followed by the inevitable glasses slip from the facial movement and stupid adjustment which Diamond always watched, because her friend was in love with that dumb style no matter how many problems it caused and the results were just so funny. Some scribbling eventually resulted, and the note came --
-- halfway back.
There was an adult mouth in the way.
The friends stared at it in mutual horror, watched the teeth as they delicately nipped the missive out of the air, and Cheerilee carried their note back to her desk.
It was practically theft. Cheerilee was stealing! What right did the adult have to take something of Diamond's? Was it possible to have her arrested? How about lawsuits? Because in Diamond's experience, there were always potential lawsuits, even if her father insisted they were frivolous things conducted only by those who simply wanted to waste the court's time in the hopes of getting enough stupid ponies behind them to gain money from it, which just showed her brilliant father still didn't know everything because free money.
"So let's see what was so important..."
And now she was going to read their private words! That was practically emotional damages right there!
Cheerilee looked at both sides of the note. Three times.
Diamond fumed on her bench. (She would have to remember to describe it as near-tears and emotional collapse when her lawyer called her to testify. You couldn't sucker a jury without emotional commitment, or at least some really good acting.)
"Study times and sites," Cheerilee concluded. "Certainly an improvement in topic over your normal exchanges. Which doesn't change the fact that you've been passing notes in class during lectures, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. Again."
Why did she put my name first! Like it's my fault! "That isn't --"
"-- don't." Cheerilee slowly shook her head. "Let me guess where this is going. Mouthwriting analysis. You will ask your father to hire a lettered expert who will prove this wasn't your note and you've just been framed by somepony who has it out for you, for no reason either of you will be able to prove. And you'll hope that the threat of dragging the school board into it will make everypony cave in. Again. While knowing your father has no real interest in getting involved with this, is in fact getting sick of the whole thing --"
And with those words, the emotional damages had become real. "My daddy will do it! He'll do anything if I ask!"
The other students were staring at her. Extra lawsuits all around.
"That's what the school board is afraid of, yes," Cheerilee wearily continued. "Except that I've spoken with him. Several times over the last few moons, not all of which you had to know about --"
How dare she! He's my daddy!
"-- and he isn't happy."
Liar!
"You have been using your family's wealth as an excuse to get out of just about everything, Diamond Tiara. And I'm not neglecting you in this, Silver Spoon, because you go along with all of it. So -- there's only a week left in this semester. A week for the school board to panic. A week for your experts and affidavits and everything else. A week to get through a court system which will never even be approached because it's an empty threat, girls, and it's well past time I taught you that those have consequences."
She came out from behind the desk. Slowly looked from one friend to the other.
The stupid daisies on her flank didn't seem to be smiling.
"I'm breaking up the set," she told the classroom. "Diamond Tiara, switch desks with Truffle."
"I don't want to!"
It had nearly been a scream. It had definitely been a threat.
"Either switch desks," Cheerilee calmly replied, "or go up to my desk and wait for me to write another note. One explaining exactly why I am sending you home for the day. A note I will make two copies of. And then we can all talk about it together. Tomorrow night. Which may happen anyway unless you switch desks with Truffle -- right now."
Diamond stared at her.
The lawsuit was going to be epic.
But the best way to get paid for emotional distress without the casual effort of lying to a jury about it was to actually go through more of the stuff. It wasn't surrender. It was just -- setting up the payday.
"Fine..."
She switched desks, taking care to give Truffle a hard looks-like-a-pure-accident-said-the-paid-expert flank bump as they passed each other. Plopped down onto the new (and inferior, not to mention food-scented) bench hard with intent to break and option to echo, neither of which actually worked out.
Cheerilee nodded.
"We need to finish this lesson so you'll all be properly prepared for finals," the teacher said. "So I'll be keeping you all after the last bell." A rising left foreleg cut off the protests. "No arguments. No backtalk. If you want to complain about it, consult Diamond Tiara after school. I'm sure she'll have a lawyer in mind for all of you, presuming her willingness to share extends into class action suits. Now..." and that stupid sunny smile came back "...let's get back to learning, all right? Now, when I left off, we were talking about --"
Diamond ignored all of it, lost in much more important plots of revenge. Cheerilee wasn't in charge: Diamond's father was, because money talked and that meant her daddy could shout louder than anypony in town. This was just a temporary aberration, the same as everything else the teacher tried to do in the name of stupid discipline, and once Diamond spoke to her daddy, the school board would tremble like they always did, stupid adults living in fear of her father was just funny, and Diamond would get her own way. Again. Because that was what always happened. All she needed was the perfect lie to give her father, the right distortion of events which he would never question because it was her providing them, and everything would be fine. She could use the rest of her school time for hammering out the details, none of which would include the possibility of class action suits because he was her daddy and so those were, by extension, her lawyers and nopony else could have either one.
But she'd have to work quickly. Everything had to be settled before finals. Because she'd been forced to switch with stupid Truffle, and that move had put her between...
"...psst! Hey, Diamond! How do ya like the view from back here, huh? Pretty spectacular, right?" An ugly-sounding whisper of a giggle. "Don't worry! We'll take care of you while you're in the dumps!"
"Yeah." An even dumber-sounding stifled laugh. "We'll take care of you good... want some gum?" With sincerity and stupidity in equal measure, "I've only been chewing it for two hours... I think there's still some flavor in this one itty-bitty corner which you could have."
...Snips and Snails.
Two ponies who could not be copied from, at least not if the copier had any intention of seeing the next year of school instead of the same one over and over and over and --
Diamond shuddered, and not just because the sincerely-offered gum had just been stuck under her nose for closer worthiness inspection.
She had to get back to her own desk, by tomorrow morning at the latest. There was no other choice. She would just have her father throw lawyers at the problem until it collapsed under the sheer weight of not-at-all frivolous litigation.
There were two choices. Win or --
-- study.
With the hated exception of history (and why should things which had happened before she made the world perfect with her arrival matter at all?), Diamond Tiara didn't study. She had a pony to do that for her. A pony who was now sitting too far away to copy from.
But it was all right. Just a temporary aberration, that was all. Diamond would win. Because her father always did. That was why he was the most perfect daddy ever. Stupid Cheerilee would see. And then the dumb teacher would never try talking to her daddy again.
Daddy always wins.
It comforted her through the last bell, although it didn't do much for the three agonizing minutes they had to stay past it, minutes during which certain dumb students kept staring at her as if something had been her fault.
Well, all the more emotional distress to collect compensation for.
Daddy always wins. Because he loves me.
The alternative was unthinkable.