//------------------------------// // Day 0: Waiting // Story: Scoot Camp // by theNDinspector //------------------------------// “Aaargh! Is the mail here yet?” Scootaloo shouted from the top of the stairs. “No, dear,” her mother replied from downstairs. Exasperated, the orange pesasus returned to her room where her two friends were waiting. Sweetie Belle had made herself comfortable by sitting on Scootaloo’s bed and reading something in a foreign language—music notes. Apple Bloom, on the other hoof, was on the floor trying to keep her young nephew, Lil’ Mac, busy. With the other Apple siblings out on pie-cart deliveries and Cheerilee away at a teacher’s conference in Manehattan, Apple Bloom was left to care for the young toddler. So far, things weren’t going very well. “No Lil’ Mac, you do not eat that!” She yelled as the maroon colt jumped on her back and was reaching hungrily for her pink bow. Scootaloo walked past the two earth-ponies and headed straight for her bed, sitting next to Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo was tired of all this waiting. It was like trying to get her cutie mark again, or trying to fly; both of which she got. Yet here she was, waiting on the Equestrian Postal Service. “How do you know it’s going to come today?” Sweetie Belle asked, looking up from her sheet music. “I don’t!” Scootaloo stated. “It’s been like this for days now! What if I don’t get accepted? What if they never even got my application?” “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Sweetie Belle consoled her long-time friend. “The postal system is pretty reliable, for the most part. Besides, I’m sure you’ll get in. I mean, Rainbow Dash is there, so I’m sure they’ll accept you.” “But you don’t know that,” Scootaloo countered. “And they can’t just accept me because Rainbow Dash knows me. That would be favoritism.” Sweetie Belle looked at her friend utterly surprised. “What?” Scootaloo asked. “Oh, it’s just I never expected to hear you say that word,” Sweetie Belle said. That statement irritated Scootaloo. “I can know and use words,” she scoffed. “I’m not a little filly anymore!” At that moment, the bed wobbled. Apple Bloom had just sat down next to them with a solemn look on her face and her mane let down. Glancing to the other end of the room showed a young colt chewing contently on something pink—ruining yet another one of Apple Bloom’s ribbons. “Ah’ don’t know why Ah’ bother anymore,” she said. “Ah’ don’t have many more of mah’ mom’s ribbons left, and he just won’t stop.” They watched as Lil’ Mac mangled up the old ribbon, completely unaware of the sentimental value it had to his aunt. “Maybe we could set it on fire,” Scootaloo suggested offhoof. “That’ll teach him to not touch them anymore.” “SCOOTALOO!!!” Sweetie Belle shouted. “That’s dangerous and cruel!” “And Ah’ can’t just do somethin’ like that, it’ll scar ‘im for life!” Apple Bloom added, also horrified at this suggestion. “Don’t you ever think before you say things?!” Sweetie Belle asked. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry,” Scootaloo said, raising her hoofs as if to keep her friends from jumping her. “It was just a stupid idea and I was only joking. I can’t really think straight right now.” This seemed to calm the irate mares down, but a little bit of tension still lingered in the air. Scootaloo couldn’t handle the silence. “How about we play a game to pass the time?” She suggested. Thankfully, the other two accepted and Scootaloo went to get a myriad of games from the game closet. They were in the middle of one particularly engaging game of Apples to Apples when a call came from downstairs. “Scootaloo, the mail’s here!” Her mother said. “FINALLY!” Scootaloo stated and dashed down the stairs. Sweetie Belle was right behind her and Apple Bloom lagged behind—having had to collect her nephew before leaving. Once they were all downstairs, they found Scootaloo’s mother holding a lot of mail. “Is it here? Is it here?” Scootaloo asked repeatedly. “Hang on dear, I need to sort these,” her mother said. “You know how your father gets when I don’t.” Scootaloo let out an annoyed grunt before saying, “Fine!” “Thank you,” Scootaloo’s mother said as she started going through the mail. “Let’s see…bill…bill…bill…advertisement…something for our neighbor…ooh! A letter from your grandma…and here’s one for you Scootaloo.” “Yes!” Scootaloo shouted as she grabbed the letter, opened it and started reading it. “Well, what does it say?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Are yah’ in?” Apple Bloom added. A smile crept its way on Scootaloo’s face as she shouted, “YES! I’ve been accepted!” The young mares all started cheering, along with Scootaloo’s mother. Even Lil’ Mac was laughing, although he had no idea what the excitement was about. “That’s great Scootaloo,” her mother said. “But what does it say exactly?” Scootaloo cleared her throat and started reading the letter—barely able to contain her excitement. Dear Ms. Scootaloo, We have received your application and are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Wonderbolt Academy for Precision Flyers. Training begins on the 14th of September at the Wonderbolt Training Center. A map of the location and further instructions has been enclosed with this letter. You are expected to report no later than 1000 hours on the mentioned date. If you fail to report, then your application will be officially denied. It is anticipated that you will actively participate in the training program for the period of one week before you are evaluated and we determine if you are a suitable candidate to continue. We await your arrival. Signed, Col. Spitfire Academy Director and Former Lead Pony of the 1st Wonderbolt Squadron Silence enveloped the room as Scootaloo finished reading her acceptance letter. Scootaloo felt so giddy and relieved that she had been accepted. Nothing could possibly be better. “That’s great Scootaloo,” Sweetie Belle finally said. “What in tarnation is 1000 hours?” Apple Bloom asked. “It means ten o’clock in the morning,” Scootaloo explained. “Oh,” Apple Bloom said, nodding her head in understanding. Scootaloo’s mother, on the other hoof, was going over the letter again—internalizing every word. “September 14? That’s only a couple of weeks from now,” she stated. “You’ll have to let your boss over at the skating rink know about this.” “Yes Mom,” Scootaloo said, a little annoyed at her mother’s concern. “And you’ll have to leave pretty early to get there,” Scootaloo’s mom continued. “I hear that they have a ‘zero-tolerance policy’ for late-comers.” “Don’t worry Mom, I’ll be fine,” Scootaloo said. “I’ll have everything ready and go to bed extra early the night before. Okay?” “All right,” her mother replied. “I’m just worried because I know how important this is for you.” “Thanks Mom,” Scootaloo said, trying to end the conversation. “You’re welcome,” her mother said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get dinner ready before your father comes home. I’m sure he’ll be excited about the news.” With that, the three mares and young colt returned to Scootaloo’s room. They completely ignored the unfinished game—as they were too excited—and talked about how Scootaloo could be in the Wonderbolts flight team one day. ‘This is going to be so awesome!’ Scootaloo thought. ‘I can’t wait to tell Rainbow Dash!’