//------------------------------// // Ch 2.5 Love and Classes // Story: Our Girl Scootaloo 2 of 3 // by Cozy Mark IV //------------------------------// Our Girl Scootaloo Part 2 of 3 by Cozy Mark IV & Jan. McNeville Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan-made work of prose. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is the property of Hasbro. Please support the official release Chapter Two point Five: Love and Classes Midway through the semester, Scootaloo’s business management class took a turn for the strange. “All right, who can tell me what this is?” The class stared at the wrecked industrial building for a few seconds before someone in the third row back called out. “That looks like Chernobyl...” “Very good. Now you all know that this is class on systems design and management processes. Who here can tell me what that has to do with this photo?” There was silence as most of the pre-meds tried to figure out what a nuclear power plant had to do with office personnel management. At length Scootaloo spoke up. “I don't know much about the Chernobyl disaster, but I'm guessing you want us to draw parallels between this disaster and the kind we're likely to deal with as hospital physicians?” “Close, but not quite. When you get though with your degree, when you finish your residency, people are going to be counting on you for help, and that doesn't stop at good diagnosis and good bedside manner. This isn't a department store or a pizza place you'll be running. In a medical environment it is very important to have clear lines of communication, and a good system of management, because if someone makes a mistake, or fails to communicate important information it can cost patients their lives and doctors their licenses.” Scootaloo found it vaguely unsettling that he had to mention loss of license to get the class's attention, but they were definitely listening now. “This is going to be a quick project, and I expect a short report from each of you on what a doctor can learn from the mistakes that caused the Chernobyl disaster. While your screw ups aren't likely to turn a city into a radioactive ghost town, the effect on the families involved can be startlingly similar. … This being a Tuesday, Josie caught up with Scootaloo at their usual hang out, the food court of the student union building, but as she sat down to join her friend she did a double take. “Scootaloo, are you okay?!” The orange pony had been hiding her face in a book, but as she looked up at her friend, Josie could see her eyes were red and watering. Scootaloo registered surprise, then realized what was going on and managed a small smile. “Sorry, Josie, I'm fine, I was just researching a project for my business management class and stumbled across something really sad.” “In business management class?” Josie asked incredulously. “Yeah, the prof has us studying the Chernobyl disaster as a lesson in how not to run an office. It's actually more relevant than I would have suspected. Almost everything they did to cause the meltdown could be traced back to terrible equipment design or craptastic management practices.” “Wait... Melt down? You're talking about a nuclear power plant?” “Well, part of one. The short story is the goobers put in charge of the power plant decided to see what would happen if they shut off the cooling water while the reactor was running.” “Seriously? That's sounds like the sort of thing the police have to deal with from time to time. 'I swear officer, I just wanted to see how many fireworks I could fit in the stove before they lit!'” “Something like that...” Scootaloo sighed and pulled out her tablet so Josie could watch the same video she had seen. “Here, the video comes up when you search Ghost Town. A song about Chernobyl.” … Scootaloo passed her friend a fresh gauze pad for her eyes as Josie tried not to cry. “This is so sad! Why would you show me this?” “Misery loves company?” “And why have I never heard of this? They didn't mention this at all in our high school history classes!” She sniffled and passed the tablet and ear buds back to Scootaloo. “Seriously? You're surprised that our public school left out controversial information? Did you not notice the part where anything controversial was stripped out of the curriculum because it only got the teachers in trouble with the parents? I've had teachers who would have spent the whole class on the Romans if they could have. Nice safe material and no angry parents to deal with.” “Oh come on Scoot, what could parents have objected to about this? The Soviets screwed up and apparently poisoned a huge number of people after melting down one of their reactors. Where's the controversy in that?” Scootaloo just shook her head. “What about the kids who don't know what radiation is or why it’s dangerous? Do you know enough to explain it to them? And what do you say happened to all the mothers and kids who were nearby when this happened? Do you want to explain that to a class of kids, some of whom might have relatives in Europe? And what about the fact that some of the radioactive dust made it all the way across the Atlantic and rained out in the US? Think some kids might have concerns about that?” Josie seemed to be mulling that over. “I guess I never thought of it that way...” “Exactly. And so they cut it out of the public schools. But this is college; here you get something a lot closer to the truth, even if the truth is nasty and complicated like this. … ---------------- The Sixth Date “Okay, now on to the hand.” David continued as the digital projector showed a huge cutaway image of a human hand on the ceiling of the dorm room. A series of white lines indicated all the bones, muscles and structures that Scootaloo had to memorize for her class in introductory anatomy and physiology. “This one?” “Hypothenar muscles.” “Good.” He smiled and stroked her head and she leaned into his touch, momentarily changing the pitch of the background humming that pervaded the room. “And this?” “Adductor pllicis muscles – ohhhh…” “Good. And this one?” “That’s easy: Distal phalangessss ohhh! God, you are such a tease!” “Hey, you said the tests were stressful. It wouldn’t be fair to you if I let you study without a little stress.” “Ohhh! Just you wait until you have trouble in a class I’ve taken!” “I am waiting. Eagerly.” He answered with that mischievous grin of his she was learning to love and hate. “Now, what is this?” “Arggg!” There was a loud creaking of wood as Scootaloo shuddered and tried to concentrate. “From distal to proximal, the bones are labeled the distal phalanges, the intermediate phalanges, the proximal phalanges, the metacarpals and the carpels.” “Okay, and this?” The image changed to a front and side view of a standing person. “Give me what you can remember from top to bottom; major muscle groups. Go.” “Occipitoforontalis, temporoparientalis, orbicularis oculi…” As she struggled for the name of the blasted facial muscle group, the humming dropped in pitch by at least an octave, making her whine. “As you said, looks like you need a bit less stress for the harder ones. Go on: Levator…?” “Levator Labii Superior!” She almost shouted. “Masticatorii, Sternocleidonastoideus, orbicularis oris, deltoideus, ohhh!” She moaned and lost her place as the humming picked back up an octave. “Good. See, it’s not that hard to learn these is it? We’ve only been at it for, what? A couple of hours?” He finished in a relaxed tone, earning him a look that would have caused a lesser man to burst into flames. “Two hours!?” Scootaloo hadn’t met to shout, but her nerves were at least as frazzled as the rest of her, her mane tangled underneath her was damp with sweat and her eyes looking somewhat wild as more beads of sweat ran down her neck. “That’s right. Lithium batteries for the win, am I right?” The sound of creaking wood and straining ropes were again heard as she struggled for the hundredth time to find some relief from the infernal ‘butterfly’ and panted for breath. “Tell you what: You’ve gotten much better at this since we started, so why don’t you take us down to the elbow and we’ll see if I can’t find a use for this?” He finished, holding up a box with a picture of what looked like a tiny pink ring with an on/off switch. “Trapexius, pectoralis major, latissimus dorsi, tricepts brachii, biceps brachiee… Ohhh!!...what was… I know this… Serratus anterior!” She finished before he could turn down the setting with the remote. “Now get over here!” He smiled as she named the muscle groups that had mystified her only hours before. “As you wish. Now I wonder what happens if I do… this?” … The maintenance attendant behind the housing counter looked at him with a flat stare. He had been doing this for almost thirty seconds now, and David who had already been blushing scarlet, was starting to feel uneasy. “So let me get this straight. You need to request a new frame for your dorm room bed? You’re joking, right? Those things are built like tanks! They can take an enormous amount of abuse, hell, most of them have been here for ten year…” He trailed off as David took the broken, splintered two by two beam that been part of the headboard out of his backpack and laid it on the counter. “Yeah. I’m really sorry about this… Is there any chance you have something stronger?” There was a long silence as he noted that the wood showed no signs of cuts or saw marks, just a deep gouge where something had been wrapped around the top. At length he looked up at David again. “Okay. You know what? I don’t want to know. Really.” David looked at his shoes sheepishly as the procurement person continued. “The new beds we got for the dorms across town have steel frames with welded joints. Damn things are a pain to move, but it’s worth it not to have to replace them. Do you think that will be strong enough for you?” “Um… Yes… Yes, I’m sure it will. Here’s the money to pay for the one we-, I broke.” He put the money on the counter and without a backward glance, left, leaving behind a story that no one was ever going to believe. Some two weeks later, the same maintenance manager happened to be walking into the college town's little movie theater with his wife, when he noticed David and Scootaloo walking together and had an epiphany. He was so overcome by shocked imagination that he made no objection to his wife's selecting a movie of such overwhelmingly revolting sentimentality that a local comedian had joked about heterosexual males gnawing off their own legs to escape the film. As it happened, the giggling over what David's request implied didn't kick in until a major character's tragic death and in a fit of righteous indignation that involved her purse, his wife actually managed to injure him quite badly. All he could say in his defense was 'the pony got away,' between peals of laughter, so his wife took him directly to the hospital on suspicion of a stroke. After the doctors had given him a CT scan and some Valium, he managed to explain it, at which point his wife felt simply awful for whacking him and spent several days bursting into laughter at inappropriate moments herself. Considering she worked in banking, this was somewhat alarming to several clients, but, being an accountant who had, all things considered, seen weirder in her day, she never felt the need to explain herself. But such are the risks of living in a college town. … That evening at dinner Scootlaoo met Josie and some of her friends in the cafeteria to catch up after a long day. She pillaged the salad bar, thankful again for the impressive variety and selection they always seemed to have on hand. And the vegetarian offerings! At least one new one every night, and many of them shockingly good. At home her dads had always seen to it that she had something filling to eat, but she knew from traveling just how hard it could be to get enough to eat on a vegetarian diet, especially one she couldn't easily break. She also knew some of the political pundits had accused her of somehow choosing to make vegetarianism a side effect of her synthetic biology as way to improve her diet. She looked at the buffet before her and smiled to herself. 'Correlation or causality, the result is still delicious!' She took her full tray over to their usual table and took a seat by Josie, listening as she regaled them with a tale from her political science class. When she finished, Scootaloo saw her opportunity. “You're not the only one who had an interesting time in class today. Remember that anthropology class I'm taking?” The smiles and laughter were inevitable, but expected. “Oh, do tell us more, Ms. Heartstrings.” “Yeah, yeah, green pony seeks rare humans of legend. Who needs hands when you've got these?” One of their dinner party suddenly yelped as she pinched him under the table with her automotive repair tentacle, and Josie just laughed as she spooled in the long arm. “You're carrying one of those around with you now?” She kidded. “Well, yes.” Scootaloo replied, sticking out her tongue. “I got tired of all the 'hand' jokes. Anyway, I've got a story for everyone tonight. Our anthropology professor did his field work with nomads in Africa and while he hasn't told us much about that yet, today he told the story of his first couple weeks in Africa.” She paused to collect her thoughts, then. “It all started when he arrived. He had spent months getting all the paperwork right so he could ride with the nomads. Yeah, apparently they require paperwork to ride with the camel nomads. At any rate, when he got there, they told him he didn't have the correct paperwork, and while I suppose he could have just gone ahead anyway, his goal was to publish the results of his work, and that meant he couldn't skimp on the paperwork.” “So they told him he needed to get the approval of some high muckity muck in the capital a few hundred miles to the north. No big deal right? Well, they wanted actual signatures, and they didn't have access to a fax which meant he had to drive up there and get the signatures himself, then bring them back. So this trip was already off to a great start, especially given that he hadn't brought much money, at least not enough to rent a car.” “So our enterprising professor, who is about five foot dam and lanky by the way, he hitchhikes his way to the capital and gets the paperwork straightened out. So everything is set, and he finds a ride on an 18 wheel truck that they called a lorry. The driver was transporting three or four big sections of concrete pipe for some kind of project, and each of the sections was filled with five or ten people also hitching a ride on the open flat-bed trailer. And if that doesn't sound quite like a paragon of safety, the driver is navigating hilly, almost mountainous terrain, and drinking honey wine as the sun sets. Our prof said he debated trying to say something to the driver in a language he wasn't very good with, but he decided he was just happy to be riding in the cab, so he just nodded of and fell asleep.” Scootaloo had the attention of everyone at the table as the rambling tale continued. “The next thing he remembers, he was laying on the ground not far from the twisted wreckage of what used to be the truck with splitting headache and blood matting his hair. Some passersby had started laying out the injured in a neat row by the side of the road, but the injured were greatly outnumbered by the dead and dying who had been riding on the open truck bed when the truck when over the embankment.” “Holy crap! So he survived the crash and came back later to do his graduate work right?” Scootaloo just smiled. “You don't know my prof very well. No, he was in no shape to do much more than lie there, but a passing car stopped and picked him up and drove off with him. He woke up in a small bare room with his wounds bandaged with clean rags. Problem is, this particular African country has a rule that if you stop by the side of the road to help someone, they can accuse you and collect damages for your role in the accident.” She paused to address the incredulous looks. “Hey, nobody ever said lawmakers were smart.” “Anyway, they were good people, and they nursed him as best they could, but they wouldn't let him leave because they were afraid he would come after them for money. And of course it didn't help that they ran a whore house.” “Wait wait wait. He was rescued by the local nurse pimp?” Josie asked. “More or less. He didn't specify which member of the 'business' helped him, and in his state of health and with his understanding of the language he might not have known. At any rate, he was there for three days as his head healed, punctuated all the while be sounds of sex from the rooms on either side. Eventually he'd had enough, and he actually broke down the door and ran out into the street and flagged down the only car in sight. The driver pulled up and saw this short lanky professor, dirty, scraped and with bloody bandages on his head. Our prof asked him for a ride to the capital city’s hospital, the same city he just left, and the guy looks him up and down and quotes a figure that translates into six months’ pay. At this point prof just said that he 'persuaded' the gentlemen to help drive him to the capital.” “So after he gets to the hospital he has to jump over the dead bodies that are laid out in rows in front of the hospital, but he does get in, and they keep him overnight to make sure his head is okay. During the night he said he couldn't sleep because some of the other patients kept screaming. Next day he checked out with a more or less clean bill of health and had to jump over the same dead bodies to get back out of the hospital, where upon he hitchhiked his way back to where he started. Now that he had the right paperwork they signed off on his graduate work, and he left with the camel nomads with his head still all bandaged up. He hasn't told us what happened next, but I know I'm looking forward to hearing it.” Scootaloo finished with grin as the others at the table looked on in disbelief. “That's... That's crazy! You're pulling my leg right?” “No, I'm not.” “Then he's got to be messing with you. That's just...” “That's what parts of the third world are like Josie. My professor actually went through all that to get to ride with his chosen camel nomads.” Josie was silent for a moment before announcing in respectful tones. “Wow... Anthropologists are hardcore.” ------- Going home for the summer --------- Most of the other students had already left by Thursday, happy to be done with finals and ready for a summer that didn't involve math homework. The dorm had taken on a strange, abandoned feeling as the rooms emptied out, and by now Scootaloo, May and Josie were part of the only five girls left on the floor. Josie had been more than a little emotional the last few weeks as Philip was graduating and moving on to look for work. This meant leaving her behind, but they had apparently taken the plunge and decided to go long distance, trying to keep something they had both decided was very precious. There had been tears when he packed up his own van and headed home, but they had already started exchanging emails, and Scootaloo had hope that this match might not be as doomed as Josie worried. It was on that Thursday morning that May and Scootaloo had volunteered to help a still morose Josie clean up her room and pack. What with the stress of finals and her love life, she had been too out of it to do much cleaning, and May was soon gathering baskets of laundry and pillaging her laundry card as she gave Josie dark looks that reminded her of her mother. Scootaloo had already helped Josie strip off the bedding and pack up most of her desk and computer gear. Looking around and seeing the immediate area clean; 'for the first time in almost a year!' she got down and started pulling things out from under the bed. After several pairs of shoes, two outfits, a pile of underwear and two old purses her prosthetic hand closed on a suitcase handle which seemed unusually resistant. With considerable effort, she hauled the old case out and nearly pulled a muscle in her shoulder when she tried to pick it up. “Damn, Josie! What the hell did you pack in here, bricks?” Josie turned and saw the case Scootaloo was shifting and immediately blushed. “Um... Not exactly...” Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “It's uh... not something I can show my parents. We'll have to load that one into the car personally so they don't ask.” A slow grin was spreading across Scootaloo's face. “Josie Findly... did you fill this entire case with sex toys?” Josie was turning an amusing shade of red as she answered. “Um... no...” As Scootaloo continued to grin at her she tried a different approach. “You remember the old girl scout rule about campsites?” That took her by surprise. “Huh?” There was an almost audible grinding of mental gears as Scoot tried to switch topics and remember what Josie meant. “You mean that old line about 'leave the camp site better than you found it'?” Josie grinned slyly. “That's the one. Well... It turns out that Philip subscribes to that ideal as well.” “You mean that as a summer parting gift, he gave you...” “Yup. To practice with.” Josie was still blushing, but she was wearing a silly smile now too. There was a brief pause before Scootaloo hoisted the suitcase up on the bed and popped the latches. “Okay, this I've got to see.” There was silence for a moment as Scootaloo took in the wealth of toys before her, and while Josie's blush didn't fade, her mischievous smile grew as she watched her friend begin to blush as well. Scootaloo pulled out the first item in the suitcase which emerged in a tangle of dangling straps and jingling buckles. “Wow... I've never seen one of these in person.” Josie was trying not to giggle as she responded. “Well, I’m not surprised; It wouldn't be much use on you.” “Well that's hardly my fault.” Scootaloo shot back before continuing her inspection. “Is this a real one? It looks more complicated...” “Well, this was made for the bedroom not the hospital, so it's more comfortable and has some... very nice features. And it was surprisingly affordable. Less than the price of two nights in a hotel.” “How does it... I mean where does this part even...” Scootaloo looked up in confusion and as she tried to puzzle it out and her eyes settled on Josie. There was that grin again. “Hey Josie... would you like to show me how this works?” As Scootaloo approached, Josie shook her head. “You don't know how it works? But we would need a guinea pig to-” “All right, that's two full loads of laundry.” May called as she pushed the door open and deposited a freshly washed basket of laundry on the floor. “You two fold those while I gather up...” … “Okay, now we feed this strap though here and tug it snug...” “Hey, not so tight.” May whined. “Feathers, May.” May blushed and looked away. “And then buckle it here and that's that.” “That wasn't as complicated as it looked.” Scootaloo conceded. “But what are these two long ones dangling from the waist for?” “Those are to keep you from pulling it over your head and taking it off. Here, we just pull the left one between her legs and thread it into the double D rings on the back left, then pull it tight...” May whined as the white canvas jacket became inexplicably snugger. “And then the front right strap goes between her legs and into the back right keeper.” She gave a modest tug to demonstrate as May complained. “I still don't see why I have to be the model.” “Oh just be glad you're wearing jeans today. It's more complicated with a skirt.” May flushed even redder as Josie spun her around for inspection before the wall mounted mirror. She gave an experimental tug but was obviously quite stuck. “Damn... I never realized how hot that looks.” Scootaloo added admiringly as May struggled a little harder. “And you say this fits you and Philip?” “Well yeah. Why did you think I was so good at getting someone into it?” Visions of sewing projects were rapidly dancing through Scootaloo's mind. “I'm going to have to have a word with David about summer parting gifts...” She reached up and flicked a D ring on the collar of the canvas jacket. “But what's this for?” Josie only grinned wider as she reached into the case and produced a leash which she clipped on and used to pull an increasingly compliant May over to the bed. “This is for those nights when you want to make a point to your boyfriend...” She pulled down on the leash and helped May kneel by the edge of the bed, then took out the slack and tied the other end to the bed, forcing her to wait there, kneeling. “Oh, damn...” Scootaloo added admiringly. “But doesn't that get uncomfortable?” “Not unless you buckle it too tight. If I had a dollar for all the nights he would buckle me in and keep me that way till morning...” May and Scootaloo both turned from their own distracting thoughts. “Morning?!” Josie blushed again. “Well, it’s not that hard to sleep in it, and guys can only get off the once before they have to wait half an hour...” If possible, her blush intensified. “He sometimes calls it my Ritalin. Prevents ADD and helps me focus. Didn't you notice I made Dean's List since I met him?” Their stares were clearly audible in the silent dorm room. “Well, have either of you ever gone at it four times in one night, then three more in the morning?” Their stares took on more than a hint of envy. “And that doesn't count the times I kept him in it all night. You know that insatiable patch right after your period where you just can't get enough? Ever wonder how that would go if he can't say no?” Scootaloo looked very interested as May took on a shocked expression which Josie noticed. “Oh calm down, he has a safeword to get out if he really needs to.” “Josie...” Scootaloo looked at her friend, and it appeared she was trying very hard not to giggle. “When... When did you surpass your poor old teacher in the annals of sex-ed?” “Oh, we passed minimum sex-ed a while ago.” She grinned, “This is more like sex best practices.” “All right then, Professor Josie,” Scootaloo managed between giggles, “where does one go shopping for such Best Practices?” “Oh, a simple net search for straitjackets will turn up quite a selection. Here, let me show you.” As Scootaloo looked over her Josie's shoulder there was a rustle of canvas behind her as May struggled futilely against the jacket and pulled at the leash. “Hey... I can't see from over here.” Scootaloo walked over and un-clipped her leash before turning back to the screen. May looked down at the jacket, then back at her friends. “Aren't you going to let me out?” Scootaloo turned again to help but Josie put out a hand to stop her. “Of course, May, we'll let you out any time you like, but we won't put you back in. Now here, let me show you the site where Philip bought ours!” As the girls turned back to the tablet, May pulled experimentally at the jacket. “Okay, can you let me out, now?” “Sure,” Josie undid the buckles and straps from her friend as Scootaloo looked at the website and mentally began puzzling out how to design an equine-compatible model. “Now the real bugger is just trying to fold the thing-” “Oh, no.” May held out her hand and Josie, remembering that May was easily fifty times better at laundry, handed it right over. “Okay, you fold it, then.” “Nope!” And with a kind of running pounce, May soon had Josie’s left arm into the sleeve and was strapping her friend in, a look of maniacal glee on her face. “Scoot! Help!” “Can’t now, looking on Deviant Art for a pony one so I can pattern this…” “But she’s tickling me!” “S’your problem.” “You know, I think I need to make one of these for my hope chest,” May remarked. “I think strappin’ my future husband down so he can’t get loose sounds like a lot of fun.” “Oh, you enjoyed it, then?” Scootaloo asked absently. “Not really, but I sure like strappin’ folks into ‘em!” “Of all the people to be a natural domme!” Josie howled. “Hush, you.” “Yes, May.” “…You know, I think I really will make me one of these!” “Good, you can help me,” Scootaloo agreed, still looking at the website contemplatively. “…I hate the world…” ... The afternoon had faded into evening by the time the four of them had fully loaded the old minivans. Melissa, Josie, Scootaloo and Demi had managed to pack all their stuff into the two vans, leaving just barely enough room for Demi to squeeze into the driver’s seat of one, while the three of them occupied the second van which was also packed to the gills. With their dorms empty, the keys turned in and the vans sagging under the weight, they set off on the long drive home. They talked of the summer to come, rehashed the last year and sang along to the radio, but only gradually did Scootaloo notice that Josie had gotten very quiet in the back seat. While they had been talking, the song on the radio had changed to Amy Grant's 'I will Remember You', and as Scoot glanced back in the rearview mirror she could see Josie cuddling one of Philip's shirts and silently crying. The very idea of someone like Josie breaking down like that bothered her. Sure, her boyfriend was graduating and all, but certainly long-distance couldn't be all that hard, could it? Scootaloo realized that she'd never seen Josie cry even when someone died. What kind of love would make a person's heart break like that, just being away from the one they cared about? And then she realized something. She knew exactly what that felt like. Even though she had only promised to text when she got home, and even though David would be visiting in less than a week to meet her Dads and see a movie they were both looking forward to, she got her phone out and texted him. Because, after all, why not? ------- End of freshman year – - Summer at home - Beginning of fall term------------