"Pick up your heels, Scootaloo!" Mr. Harper barked from the covered sideline bleachers. I glared at him in mutinous silence as I jogged past - half frozen and soaked to the bone.
Once, just once, I wanted to be the one dishing out the discipline to give Harper a taste of his own daily torture. I wished I had the power to rip the roof right off the bleachers, allowing him to experience firsthand how it felt to get blasted by a torrent of rain and mud. Just the thought of him covered in ooze made me all warm and tingly inside.
Too bad I never got what I wished for.
Not only was he the high school's gym teacher, Mr. Harper was also the principal, as well as a former Royal Guard. Nicknamed the Punisher he made...uh, more like he forced all first year students to run the mile through the pouring rain for basically two reasons. First, because he wanted to show us who was boss. As if we needed reminding. And second, because torturing his students with the lame Ponyville weather at the beginning of each new school year was somehow supposed to build character, while helping to improve our attitudes.
Personally, I disagreed. Running in near freezing temperatures through the pouring rain didn't do a thing for my crappy attitude. It just made me cold, wet, and extremely prone to bad behavior.
On the last lap around the track I led the pack, far ahead of my classmates, but it wasn't enough for Harper. Rounding the final turn, I heard him bellowing his disapproval for my so-called poor performance.
"C'mon, Darlin'. You can do better than that. Dig deep, Scootaloo!"
Nobody likes a monkey on their back. Especially me. I needed to fix that. So I decided to do just what he said.
I dug deep.
Gritting my teeth, I switched to an outside lane on my right and headed straight towards a lake-sized mud puddle threatening to flood the bleachers right where Harper had perched himself, so conveniently sheltered from the storm.
Anger spiking, I picked up speed as I approached. The instant my hoof hit the water a fierce heat surrounded me, drawing pent-up energy from deep down inside me like a bomb ready to go off. The wimpy splash I'd intended to cause somehow morphed into an explosion; the effect reminding me of a stone tossed in water so that the energy spilled out in ripples creating a shock wave.
Only it didn't stop there.
A low bass drop made my ears pop as the rain soaked ground shook violently under my hooves. Scrambling back to the track, I had to keep on running just to stay ahead of the earth shattering energy biting at my heels like a heat seeking missile locked on target.
Oblivious to the destructive power heading his way, Harper only seemed to care that is veered off course. Fumbling for the shiny silver whistle he always wore around his neck, he managed to blow it directly in my ear as I shot past the finish line like a bullet.
The expanding blast reduced Harper's beloved shelter to a pile of rubble within seconds, along with at least thirty rows of bleachers, as if purposely aimed.
Bulls-eye!
Heart slamming furiously against my ribcage, I skidded to an abrupt halt and spun around in the hope of catching even a tiny glimpse of his reaction.
I wasn't disappointed.
The assault on my hearing was a small price to pay for the pleasure of watching his face, which at first appeared to be a mixture of half-embarrassment, half-shock, morph into an extremely satisfying look of pure rage as the rest of the class approaching the scene took turns jockeying for position to gawk at Harper.
Wearing his once-white workout suit, now dripping wet and covered with muck, Harper climbed out of the wreckage apparently unharmed. Spluttering with fury, he stomped his hooves over and over again until his face was nearly as purple as my hair, before be finally turned around and skulked silently away.
I grinned triumphantly. Pissing off the Punisher? Priceless!
That was the first time, and also the last time, Harper ever called me Darlin'.
Unfortunately, my little victory party had to be cut short when an ever increasing tide of whisperer a and gossip mongers completely surrounded me. Finally catching up, I tasted my classmates' fear like something metallic on my tongue. The looks on their faces could only be described as pure horror. Almost as if they thought...no, scratch that. More like they knew I had caused all the carnage, but nobody wanted to be the first to confront me about it.
Not that I blamed them, of course.
Lately trouble had a way of following me everywhere I went. Like that time last week when one of the senior students pissed me off and my resulting outburst seemed to be responsible for setting off the entire indoor sprinkler system. The whole school had to be evacuated until it dried out. Then there was that time the week before when the fire alarms kept going off every time I entered a classroom. Got sent home for that one like it was somehow my fault. And then there was also that time during the very beginning of school when the cafeteria caught on fire at the exact moment when I realized the kitchen had run out of pizza on Pizza Tuesday. Yes, on one hoof, the fact that the school was going up in flames did shock me. And everybody else for that matter. But, seriously! Who runs out of pizza on Pizza Tuesday? The entire cafeteria had to be completely gutted due to extensive smoke and fire damage.
I tried to look on the bright side. Long overdue renovations finally moved that part of the ancient school into the world of modern Equestria, which also ended up improving the terrible cafeteria food. So without admitting any blame, I figured it was a win, win.
I shook my head slowly back and forth as I surveyed the scene at the track. This was by far the biggest event yet to happen since school had started last month. I had a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that is pretty much just imagined exactly what ended up happening. But that didn't make it my fault, did it? Then again, the devastation to Harper's favorite perch turned out better than anything I could've wished for.
Way better.
Pulse still galloping in my throat, I swallowed hard. Or attempted to anyway. My classmates weren't the only ones freaked out by the recent series of unfortunate events. Especially since it was my life that was being held hostage for some unknown reason.
Thankfully no longer feeling like I was about to spontaneously combust inside my track uniform, my gaze returned to all the frowns faces staring me down like some kind of defective being. I didn't like it. Not one little bit. I had a bad habit of blushing so easily it was ridiculous. Now being no different as the tell-tale sign of embarrassment blazed a bright, crimson path across my face. Due to my unfortunate, fruit punch cheeks I always made it a point to never do anything out of the ordinary or stand out. Or to make my classmates see me.
Until now.
As much as I hated attention, I hated standing in the rain even more. Unfortunately, since everypony had been scared stupid, it became obvious to me that I was going to have to make the first move. Besides, I'd already reached my saturation point for one day.
I gave a weak salute and stepped forward. The brief moment spooked everypony, making them jump back. On the plus side the collective motion of the crowd created a hole, which made for a convenient escape route. Suppressing a smile, I darted through the opening and walked briskly across the flooded hoofball field, dodging pieces of debris as I carefully made my way back to school. Halfway there, I glanced back over my shoulder for a momentary reprise from the rain - now coming down sideways. I couldn't help but notice my classmates as they cautiously followed all huddled together; a mass of hooves and legs like a giant tarantula crawling through the storm.
I turned back around and sniffed the damp air, holding it at the back of my throat. At that moment I realized I didn't just taste their fear, I smelled it too - assaulting my nostrils like vinegar. I didn't know how or why I had these strange abilities. Just that I did.
Far off in the distance I heard sirens signaling the approach of the local guards. The blare of a horn pierced the frigid air announcing that a detachment was on its way. Great, just great. Hanging my head, I had no doubt that yet another investigation would surely follow all the drama, and once again every hoof would be pointed at me.
Irritated as hell, I finally reached my destination and slammed open the door. After getting blasted by the arctic temperatures from outside, the mares' locker room felt like a swamp. Smelled like one too. I peeled off my own muddy uniform and went to enjoy a steamy, hot shower. The hotter the better in my book.
Once finished and toweled off I didn't bother messing with my mane other than to half-heartedly drag a comb through it once. Not that it mattered much. My hair couldn't be tamed. Pulling apart chin-length bangs forever hanging I my face like a soggy curtain, I prepared to darken in my eyes even though prettifying myself like all the other mares in school was kind of pointless. Especially when the only makeup I ever wore to keep ponies away was heavy black eyeshadow, and extra thick black eye liner. Not because I wanted to look like a hell-raiser, but because I figured the color matched my soul. Or rather, what it had become over the years.
I leaned in toward the mirror and gasped.
Normally a shade of dark violet, my eyes were now an alarming shade of purple. I leaned in even closer, mouth dangling open to get a better view, and ended up fogging the mirror even more. Ripping off my towel, I wiped the mirror dry and peered again. This time with my nose pressed up against the glass, there was no mistake about it. My eyes were now a startling shade of amethyst.
I frowned. Oh well, it was normal for me to wear my mane in my face. At least now I had a reason.
With my bangs firmly back in place, I had already finished making myself look semi-presentable by the time the rest of the mares in my class arrived.
Ignoring their stares, not to mention hiding an incriminating blush, I shoved my wet uniform into a duffel bag before opening my locker to search for a spare jacket I usually kept at hoof.
That's when it hit me.
I'd left my back up jacket at home to get washed after yesterday's muddy obstacle course when Harper had the brilliant idea of turning gym class into his own personal version of boot camp.
"Mother of Celestia!" I griped, slamming the locker door harder than I meant to. Could one more thing possibly go wrong today? The only thing worse than walking around with wet, un-tamed hair, was walking around wearing a soaking wet jacket. Not that I ever worried about my hair, but still. It sucked.
With no other option than to slip back on my drenched track jacket, I grabbed my dripping gym bag and stormed off - anger increasing with each step - as my jacket began to soak my recently dried fur once more.
Now even more irritated than before I pulled a can from my bag, popped open the top, and slammed down a high-octane energy drink on the way to fifth hour. Unfortunately for me, not even the destruction of school property could cancel the last class of the day.
Before I stepped one hoof in the hall where most of the first year students' classes are held, my stranger alert system starting going off. This time the heightened sense of awareness I always for right before something bad was about to happen, wasn't because I was jazzed up on caffeine. Besides, caffeine didn't make the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up, or cause goosebumps to chase down my legs.
No. I knew without quite knowing how, that there was only one possible explanation. Someone, or something, waited for me deep in the bowels of the school.