//------------------------------// // I Don’t Even Really Know What I Expect // Story: Scootaloo Will Fly! // by MyHobby //------------------------------// Scootaloo’s scooter was right where she left it, parked outside the Crusader Clubhouse. She climbed aboard and returned to the barn, where Apple Bloom was pulling a two-wheeled, open-air carriage towards Sweet Apple Acres’ entrance. They attached the cart to the scooter, tested the connections, and climbed aboard their respective seats. “So whose house are we leaving the Scootsmobile at this time?” Apple Bloom said. She leaned her elbow on the armrest. “Not mine,” Sweetie said. “I had this parked next to my shop for two weeks last time. It’s a nice, cart, Apple Bloom, your craftsponyship is extraordinary… but it just doesn’t go with my decor.” “I’d say take it back to the Acres”—Scootaloo gave her wings an experimental flap—“but that would mean lugging it back.” “Naw, we could just hitch me up.” Apple Bloom waved a hoof, her eyes on something in the distance. “Ah wouldn’t even notice the weight.” Scootaloo tilted her head and gnawed on her lower lip. “Eh, it’s fine at my place. For a little while, anyway. We’ll park it in the alley out back.” “Now that we’ve got that settled,” Sweetie Belle said, “to home, Scootaloo.” Scootaloo saluted, strapped her helmet over her head, and buzzed down the road. She felt the magic of the pegasi flowing through her body, sucking in the wind and pulling it past her. The cart bounced on the rocky, pitted path leading away from the farm. “I would have thought,” Sweetie said, “that in her grand scheme to fix Ponyville’s roads, Applejack would have taken a second look at her own!” “It’s a three-year plan,” Apple Bloom said. “First year was the main roads, this year we’re doing the rest in town, next year she’ll deal with the ones that head out into the country.” “She can take as long as she wants,” Scootaloo mumbled under the wind, casting a glance at her favorite jump. Sweetie grunted as a particularly-deep pothole bumped the cart and bruised her rump. “Or not,” Scootaloo said. The trip to Carousel Boutique was quick and uneventful. Most ponies in town were indoors; entertaining visitors, spending a relaxing moment reading, or napping the afternoon away. They slid the carriage behind Quills and Sofas and trotted the short distance to Sweetie’s home and shop. Little had changed for the two-story store in the years since Rarity moved out. There was the new ringing bell cutie mark symbol above the door, and there was a subtle shift from Rarity’s purple to Sweetie’s pink and lavender in the decorations. The first room was the biggest: The showroom. There were oodles of ponnequins dressed in finery of only the best quality. Most were light pastels for summer colors, and thin, airy fabrics to keep cool. A circle of couches sat off to the side, surrounding a table covered with fashion magazines. Most of which had Rarity’s face on them. “Why don’t you girls head for the sitting room while I brew up something nice?” Sweetie Belle said. “Tea? Coffee? Maybe a little splash of cider?” “I’ll take that cider, thanks,” Scootaloo said. She walked towards the back of the showroom. “Coffee,” Apple Bloom said. After a moment’s thought, she added, “three lumps.” Sweetie smirked. “Three lumps and a cider coming up. Try not to give each other lumps while I’m gone, okay?” Scootaloo stirred up the coals in the fireplace. They were pretty cold, but a few puffs of the bellows and a little extra fuel brought a crackling fire to life pretty quick. She sat in a plush chair and stared into the flames. Apple Bloom reclined on a couch. She undid her pink ribbon and let her mane flow free. “Sorry that the plans didn’t work out right.” Scootaloo hunched down in the chair. “I’m sorry, too. It wasn’t fair of me to snap.” “You were stressed. And stuck to the ceiling.” Apple Bloom chuckled. “Ah can’t really blame yah.” Scootaloo smiled. “We’re gonna be laughing about it a couple days from now.” “Eeyup,” Apple Bloom said. She pursed her lips like she was tasting a strange food. “Eeyup.” They watched the fire burn until Sweetie Belle entered. She carried a tray with three mugs, and set them before the other ponies. “It’ll be good to just sit and rest for a while. You guys okay with that?” “I ain’t complaining,” Scootaloo said. “I’ll probably be thinking of new ways to fly.” “Ah had a thought about that,” Apple Bloom said. Sweetie sighed. “Perhaps we should save additional plots for—” “It ain’t a scheme.” Apple Bloom shifted to the side so that Sweetie Belle could sit next to her. “It’s a thought. Scootaloo, ah was watching you scoot, and you were breezin’ along just fine.” “Yeah?” Scootaloo peered over the armrest. “What about it? I always scoot when I’m scooting.” Apple Bloom laid her head on the back of the couch. “So why were you putterin’ about at a snail’s pace when you drank the balloon juice?” Scootaloo pointed a hoof. “I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking.” “Hush up and talk tah me.” Apple Bloom blinked. “Aw, you know what ah mean. Why’d that happen?” “Relaxing, now,” Sweetie said. “Just laying here and relaxing. La, la, la. Not a care in the world.” “I dunno.” Scootaloo rolled onto her back and kicked her hind legs into the air. “I didn’t think about it. I just flap my wings and away I go.” “An’ after you drank the potion, ‘away you stay.’” Apple Bloom propped her cheek on her hoof. “That ain’t right a’tall.” Sweetie sighed. “Have you considered that there might be something wrong with your wings? Something with their fairy strings, or with the magic flow?” Scootaloo shrugged. “I go for a physical checkup every year, but they haven’t found anything.” “Have they looked?” Sweetie folded up her glasses and set them on a coffee table. “You’ll forgive me saying a physical for a filly is anything but comprehensive.” “You know how she found her cutie mark, Sweetie,” Apple Bloom said. “You know she couldn’t have done that with bad fairy strings.” “Great, yes, awesome.” Sweetie crossed her forelegs. “But she can’t fly.” Scootaloo pressed her chin to her chest. She watched the flames leap and dance. “Yet.” Sweetie made a ‘tisk’ sound. “Well, yes, that’s what I meant to say.” Scootaloo tapped her hooves together. “On that note, though. Apple Bloom, what do you know about ambrosia?” Scootaloo popped her head above the chair. She could see Sweetie giving her the evil eye, but she responded with a reassuring wink. She waited for Apple Bloom to say something. “Ah guess Applejack got prescribed some durin’ that whole Smooze attack…” Apple Bloom rubbed her nose. “It’s a potion, but one that only the breezies know how to brew.” “It’s called a cure-all, but it isn’t,” Sweetie Belle said. “They prescribe it in milliliters because anything more will kill you.” “Whoa,” Apple Bloom said. “Really? How?” “Ambrosia’s greatest strength is that it causes rapid cellular growth,” Sweetie Belle looked Scootaloo right in the eye. “That same growth could be detrimental if used in the wrong part of the body. What would happen if your blood cells started multiplying out of control?” Apple Bloom shrugged. “Increased pulse? High blood pressure?” Sweetie Belle rubbed her face. “Think about it, Apple Bloom. Blood clots at best, burst vessels at worst. The whole point of ambrosia is that it throws your cellular reproduction into a frenzy. That’s why it healed your sister’s broken leg so quickly.” Apple Bloom’s ears dipped down. “How come you know so much about it?” Sweetie grimaced. “A lady must keep up with the times.” Scootaloo shook her head. She mouthed “really?” Sweetie ignored her with a yawn. “Whatever. Resting now. I’ll wake up in a couple hours and fix supper.” After a moment, her soft snores reached Scootaloo’s ears. The pegasus curled up in the seat of the chair and covered her body with her wings. “You asleep yet, Scootaloo?” Apple Bloom asked. “Nah. Thinking too much.” Scootaloo frowned. “Thanks for all your help, Apple Bloom. I appreciate it.” “Yer welcome.” Apple Bloom stood up to add another log to the fire. “Anythin’ for a friend.” “So between Applejack, Big Mac, and Cheerilee, they managed to get the wall standin’ upright. And there ah was, left holdin’ the baby.” Apple Bloom shook her head. “Cheerilee’s a hard worker an’ all, but that weren’t the job she was built for.” “And everypony just conveniently forgot you were the resident carpenter, huh?” Scootaloo took a bite of her house salad. The cucumbers were as crisp as if they’d been picked that day. “Big Mac wanted to be the one tah build his own house. Cheerilee wanted to help, so she gave me the baby. Applejack couldn’t be turned away, no matter how much she and Mac argued.” Apple Bloom shrugged. “Ah figured ah’d play peek-a-boo with Cinnamon and try to ignore the sound of wood bustin’.” “Ah yes, the inimitable stubbornness of the Apple Clan. Such a staple of Ponyville.” Sweetie Belle set a steaming portion of corn on the cob before each of them. “Butter it while it’s hot, girls.” Apple Bloom slathered butter on top of her cob. She shook salt and pepper on it for good measure. “Ah love ’em dearly, but sometimes…” Scootaloo spread the butter evenly across the cob. She took a large bite and smiled. “Mm!” “Great spread you got here, Sweetie. Thank a lot,” Apple Bloom said. “My pleasure.” Sweetie took a seat at the head of the table after removing her frilly apron. She took a deep sniff. “Ah, the sweet smell of success.” Scootaloo munched on a slice of watermelon. “So they got the cottage set up?” “Yep, it’s there on the south field. Just three rooms, one for them, one for the baby, and one bathroom.” Apple Bloom cringed. “Ah am so glad we stopped usin’ outhouses. So, so glad.” “Table manners, please,” Sweetie said. “We needn’t speak of such things during dinner.” “I’m with Sweetie on this,” Scootaloo said. “It’s kinda creepy the way you worship indoor plumbing.” “You would too if’n you got splinters every time you—” “Can it!” Sweetie said. “Honestly!” Apple Bloom stuffed her mouth full of lettuce. The meal continued in silence until their plates were nearly clear. “So is the house quiet without Big Mac?” Scootaloo asked. “Or would it even be that noticeable?” “Quiet. Not so different.” Apple Bloom tapped a hoof against the floor. She hunched over and grabbed a roll from the middle of the table. “More like big an’ empty, ’cept when we’re all together durin’ meals.” She fiddled with the fork she hadn’t used all evening. “Ah wanna move out. Into town.” Scootaloo leaned forward. “Really? Why?” “To open mah own shop. Sell potions and offer handiwork. That kinda thing.” Apple Bloom nibbled the roll. “Just wanna do mah own thing.” “That’s admirable,” Sweetie said. “I believe you could really go places with just the right business hook.” “Yeah, totally!” Scootaloo pushed herself off the seat, her wings buzzing. “We’ll be right there with you to set it up! When’re you starting?” “Easy, easy!” Apple Bloom waved her hooves. “It’s gonna be a solid two years at least.” Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow. “Not that I don’t approve of planning ahead, but what’s stopping you from doing it now?” “Mostly?” Apple Bloom said. “The farm.” She brushed a lock of her mane over her shoulder. “Thing is, it takes at least two ponies in the field to keep the farm goin’, an’ like ah said, this ain’t what Cheerilee’s built for. When Applejack’s out doin’ her lord mayor thing, me an’ Big Mac are keepin’ things runnin’ smooth.” Scootaloo nodded. “So when Applejack’s done with her term…” “As soon as she loses the reelection, if she even tries for it”—Apple Bloom snorted—“and she’s back on the farm, ah’m outta there.” Sweetie Belle drooped in her seat. “I guess if the farm doesn’t hold much for you…” Apple Bloom stared at her plate. She spun it with her hoof. She lifted her head and looked Sweetie in the eye. She did the same for Scootaloo. “Ah dunno, guys. After Granny Smith passed away, all the magic went out of it.” She sipped at her coffee. “So ah guess ah’m just stickin’ around ’cause they need me. ’Cause it’s the right thing to do.” “Have you told Applejack?” Scootaloo asked. “Or Big Mac?” Apple Bloom turned her eyes to the floor. “Nah. Ah’ll tell ’em when it’s important.” “Come on, Apple Bloom,” Sweetie said. “You know there’s a difference between important and urgent.” “Fine.” Apple Bloom stood up and started to carry her dishes to the sink. “Ah’ll tell ’em when it’s too late for them to say no.” “Like they can actually say no,” Scootaloo said. She pushed her chair back and followed Apple Bloom. “You’re an adult in almost every possible way.” “’Cept the ones that count.” Apple Bloom tapped Scootaloo’s nose. “Ain’t got no home of mah own, ain’t got a job of mah own, and ah get the feelin’ Applejack would nearly drop dead with a heart attack if’n ah came home with somepony.” Scootaloo pouted. “Maybe those things don’t count as much as you think.” Apple Bloom squinted one eye. “Oh yeah? What does?” “You’re respected, I know.” Scootaloo balanced her plates on her wings, causing Sweetie to cringe. “Ask anypony in town, they’ll say they would trust you with just about anything.” “Step one to bein’ an adult: Have everypony in town want a favor from yah,” Apple Bloom said with a grin. “Pretty much. But that’s the thing, you’re good for your word.” Scootaloo thumped her hoof on Apple Bloom’s back. “You’re an adult where it counts.” “Let me know when you publish that particular self-help book, Scootaloo,” Sweetie Belle said. She turned on the warm water in her sink and started to get the plates sudsy. “I’ll be happy to buy a copy.” “Ha.” Scootaloo turned back to Apple Bloom. “You wanna know what I think?” Apple Bloom took a towel and dried off a plate. “Could ah stop you if ah tried?” “Any dummy can move out,” Scootaloo said, “but an adult can tell if the time’s right or not.” “‘Any dummy’, huh?” Apple Bloom laughed. “What do you think, Sweetie Belle?” “I think we’re all adults,” Sweetie said as she scrubbed a pan. “The question is, ‘Are we going to act like it?’” She handed Scootaloo the pan. “Now help me put these away, please.” Scootaloo waited by the lake. She kicked at a patch of grass as she watched the sun lower into the horizon. The sky seemed to explode with fire, just as it did every night. Orange and yellow, purple and blue. Her ears dipped down as she cast her glance around. No sign of Rumble anywhere. This was the usual meeting spot for their circle of friends in the town, but maybe the wires had gotten crossed somewhere. Maybe he was waiting at Sugarcube Corner, which would be stupid since they were closed on Sunday. Maybe he was waiting at her house, still under interrogation from her father. Yeah, no, he was probably still just working on his odd jobs. Scootaloo looked at the lake. It was clear and smooth, reflecting the sky as perfectly as a mirror. She saw herself, with her orange coat slightly ruffled and her purple mane just that little bit off. She didn’t care too much. She’d already been pretty that day. It was time to relax. She sat down and let her eyes run around the edge of the lake. It was almost the perfect time of the evening. The twilight where there was just enough sun to sparkle. She stepped onto the water as the sun dipped below the hills. She held her hoof there, pushing against the lake as her pegasus magic linked with it. A moment later, she set another hoof on the water. She walked forward slowly, and the water plinked each time she lifted a leg. Scootaloo stood in the center of the lake, her eyes closed. She took a deep breath in, and let it out calmly. Her heart slowed to a steady, quiet beat. She swayed to that beat. She hummed a slow, quiet tune. She lifted her right hoof in a slow arc. It trailed tiny beads of water. The hoof returned to the surface, but the droplets did not. She did the same with her left hoof, and then went back to the first. Soon, she was surrounded by a small cloud of water droplets. She opened her eyes, scrutinized her handiwork, and grinned. She shifted her hooves as her humming quickened. It was a waltz, and she moved with the one, two, three of the song. After a moment, the droplets followed suit, bouncing in the air and revolving around her body. They moved as one, directed by the magic flowing from her. Some would shine with orange light as they moved before the sunset. Some would glow blue as they reflected the coming night. With a flick of her tail, they shifted into rows. One row would spin clockwise, the next down would spin counterclockwise, and so on down to the lake surface. Scootaloo leaped. Her hooves splashed a wave which froze in the air, suspended by her will. Another splash completed the circle around her. The droplets zipped around, over, and through the walls of water. The orange finally disappeared completely, replaced instead by the silvery light of the moon and stars. Scootaloo directed her own dancing stars on the lake surface, hopping and leaping and swaying and sweeping. All the droplets slowed. The waves sank beneath the surface, which was once again as clear as a mirror. Scootaloo hadn’t caused a single tremor on the water’s surface. The droplets stopped. They hung in the air until, one by one, she released them back into the lake. She spread her wings and took a bow. A steady “thump, thump, thump” came from the shore. Rumble’s wings flapped slowly and eavenly. He applauded with a grin. “Bravo!” he called. “Encore!” “Did yah like that one?” Scootaloo asked. She trotted across the lake, each hoof-step leaving a single ripple in the water. “Maybe next time you can join in.” Rumble licked the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think walking on water is in my skill set.” “Yeah, right.” Scootaloo stopped just offshore and crossed her legs. “Any pegasus could do this with enough practice.” “And yet”—Rumble dipped a hoof in the lake—“you’re the first.” “That we know of.” Scootaloo shrugged. “I haven’t actually asked Celestia if she knew a pony.” “Alrighty. Effectively the first.” Rumble brushed his mane back. “So…” “I hear my dad was gonna talk with you,” Scootaloo said. She flicked a few drops of water into the air and watched them hover around her hoof. “What’d he say?” “There was the usual, ‘Hurt my daughter and I’m gonna—’ speech.” Rumble extended his wings. “There was something about curfews and places that were not acceptable for a date. Apparently we’re not supposed to head to Las Pegasus to elope.” “Yeah, that’s what he tells all the colts that follow me home.” She conjured a ball of water and bounced it between her hooves. She grinned. “I assume you agreed to his terms?” “Heck yeah.” Rumble sat down. “Which leaves another question.” Scootaloo paused with the blob of water balanced on her rear-left leg. “Whazzat?” “When I asked if you wanted to go to the movies with me, I got the really hypocritical answer of ‘Maybe’.” He shifted his shoulders. “So, what do you think now?” Scootaloo flicked the ball into the air. It came to a rest on the tip of her nose. “Okay.” Rumble smirked. “Just ‘okay’?” “Well, I figure I’m going to the movie anyway.” She slurped up the water ball and swished it around in her mouth. She smiled with bulging cheeks at Rumble, who stared at her with level eyebrows. She swallowed. “Whadda yah want? Me to leap into your embrace and declare you my soul mate?” “No!” Rumble said. “No. It’s just a little… anticlimactic.” Scootaloo shook moisture off her wings. “Dunno if I can help with that. It’s not like me agreeing to one date is gonna be world-shattering.” “No. I don’t think it’s supposed to be.” Rumble looked up at the moon. “And maybe it shouldn’t be.” Scootaloo took a few steps closer, a small smile on her face. “But it is exciting.” “Yeah?” Rumble laughed. “That’s not just me, huh?” “Yeah. I know I can have fun with you.” Scootaloo ran her hoof across the surface of the lake. Ripples spread out from beneath her. “I mean, we’re practically best friends.” Rumble stood up and stretched. “You don’t think that’ll make this awkward?” “That’s… well… maybe a little.” Both Scootaloo and Rumble shuffled around in silence for a moment. “But I could try to overlook it,” Scootaloo said. “See where this goes.” “I don’t think I could ask for better.” Rumble laughed. “As a matter of fact, I know I can’t ask for better. You can’t ask for better than the best.” “What if you’ve found something you know is better than what ponies think is the best?” Scootaloo asked. “Well…” Rumble smiled. “I guess I show them the new best.” “What if you can’t do the best?” Scootaloo said. She stepped onto the shore and wiped her hooves off in the grass. “Well…” Rumble shook his head. “I don’t know. What if you can’t?” Scootaloo puffed her chest out and flared her wings. “I would show them my best.” Rumble tapped a hoof against his chin. “Is that a Rainbow Dash-ism?” “Yup. Get used to it, dude.” “Alright.” Rumble folded his wings against his body. “So what day are we gonna see the movie? It opens tomorrow, right?” “Yeah, but I’m gonna be spending most of the day working at Sweet Apple Acres. Mom and Dad will want me home for supper.” Scootaloo paced next to Rumble. “The next day—” “Spike and I are mowing most of the lawns in Equestria.” Rumble chuckled. “Or at least Ponyville. That’ll be an all-day sucker, right there.” Scootaloo tilted her head back. “Wednesday I’m gonna be working during the day, and babysitting at night.” “Thursday?” Rumble took to the air and hovered around her. “Does the Thursday evening show sound good to you?” Scootaloo flapped her wings as hard as she could. She rose into the air inch by inch until she was floating nose-to-nose with Rumble. “Thursday sounds great.” Rumble backed off, looking her up and down. “Whoa. When did you start doing that?” “It’s been a few years, now.” Scootaloo plopped back on the ground. “That’s about all I can get out of it, though.” “Huh.” Rumble landed next to her. He looked closely at her wings. “Hay, if you ever need some help learning to fly—” “And you don’t happen to be working?” Scootaloo blew her curl out of her face. “Well, um…” Rumble blushed. “Ouch.” “Cool it, I’m just teasing.” She punched his shoulder. “So, Thursday it is, huh?” “Yup.” Rumble lifted his hoof and floundered for a bit. “Pick you up at four-thirty? We’ll get a bite to eat before or after, depending on the show time?” “Yeah.” Scootaloo bumped his hoof. “See you then.” “Yeah,” Rumble said. “See yah.” She trotted off, her face a deep reddish-orange. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Rumble looking at her from up in the sky. She smiled, and he smiled back. “Okay,” she muttered to herself. “Not a bad start.” She opened the door to Quills and Sofas around ten-o’-clock. It was a little later than she had planned, but sunset was late in the summer. She yawned and folded up her scooter, clicking the handlebar into place across the base. She spun a wheel and smiled. “How’d it go with Rumble?” Roseluck said. Scootaloo looked across the showroom floor to see her mom resting in one of the couches. A book was propped up in her hooves, a new gardening book about tasty herbs being imported from Zebrabwe, Giraffrica. She looked to be about halfway through, if she was reading cover to cover. She always did. “Hay, Mom,” Scootaloo said. “Pretty good. He’s picking me up at four-thirty Thursday.” Roseluck nodded. “And?” “And that’s pretty much it.” Scootaloo slung her scooter over her shoulder and walked closer to her mother. “I mean, we really haven’t done anything different. We’re both fighting our own schedules just to get this thing started.” Roseluck set the book down. “And what is ‘this thing’?” “I dunno, a chance?” Scootaloo sat next to her mother, her brow furrowing. “A start? Maybe something that can grow?” Roseluck winced. “I don’t want this to end up like L—” “Lickety Split was an idiot.” Scootaloo pushed her scooter to the floor, where it clattered. “Rumble isn’t an idiot, at least.” “Honey,” Roseluck said, “do you think he’s sure about this? Have you talked about what you both hope to get?” “We’ve hardly talked at all!” Scootaloo said, a little louder than she wanted. She tried again, quieter this time. “All I know is that I tried to make sure he was sure. That he was sure he wanted to date me.” Roseluck looked away. “Do you know what he expects?” “Yy—” Scootaloo wrapped her wings around her body. “Nn—I don’t even really know what I expect.” Roseluck chewed on her lip. “That’s something you’ll need to think about.” “I know, Mom. I know.” Scootaloo glared at the ceiling. “I know, okay? I do. It’s just—” Scootaloo rolled over to face her mother. Roseluck wouldn’t meet her eye. “Can’t I just let it grow naturally without trying to force anything?” “It isn’t about forcing anything,” Roseluck said. Her hooves shook and her voice trembled. “It’s about setting boundaries, and knowing where they’re at, and not crossing them, and—” “Chill, Mom.” Scootaloo rested her hoof on her mom’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Nothing bad is gonna happen. We’re gonna have fun and just hang out. That’s where we’re at right now.” Roseluck’s eyes flicked to Scootaloo, and then back to the floor. A tear dripped down her cheek. “Just be careful.” “I will.” Scootaloo folded her wings up and reached for her scooter. “You know Rumble, Mom. He’s a cool guy. A good guy. He’s not gonna just—” She shook her head. “We’ll be fine.” “I don’t want you—” Roseluck choked. “I don’t want you hurt again.” “And Rumble is definitely not gonna steal my first kiss and spend the next night sucking another girl’s lips off,” Scootaloo hissed. “He knows better. He is better.” Roseluck sobbed. She buried her face in her hooves and rocked on the couch. Scootaloo hesitated. She looked up to see her dad at the foot of the staircase. He walked over to the couch, sat beside Roseluck, and wrapped her up in a hug. Scootaloo watched them quietly before climbing onto the back of the couch and spreading her wings over the both of them. She waited until her mom’s sobs became slow breathing, then hopped off the back of the couch and headed for the stairs. She shut the door to her bedroom and leaned against the mirror. She wiped her nose and snuffed. She stared at the floor, running her hoof through the carpet. “Sorry, Mom.” She looked up as the moon passed in front of her bedroom window. The shining moonbeams lit her room, removing any color besides gray and silver. Her eyes fell on the now-monochromatic Rainbow Dash poster in the center of the wall. She examined the sleek body, the spread wings, the daring smile. “Keep being awesome, Squirt.” She stood up. She went to her desk and flicked her lantern. The fireflies inside came awake one by one. When her room was lit like daylight, she picked up a pencil and wrote. Hi Rainbow Dash, Sometimes I can feel like such a jerk. I made my mom cry again. She’s so sensitive, so why can’t I just keep my smart remarks to myself? It’s like, “Blam! Scootaloo’s mouth ran away from her again!” I can’t even say sorry because she’ll only cry harder. Worst part might be why. Rumble asked me on a date. Rumble! Can you believe it? We’ve been friends for years, and now he wants to date. What. The. Heck. I said yes, of course, there’s no reason not to. And pretty much every reason to. But when my mom tried to tell me to be careful, I got snippy and said he wasn’t Lickety Split. Remember Split? Of course you do. You and Dad hung him from City Hall’s flagpole. Good times. I knew what she was worried about. Why’d I have to throw it in her face? Scootaloo looked over the letter. She crumpled it up and tossed it into the waste bin. Hi Rainbow Dash, Thank you for the tickets! I’m gonna see the movie later this week, and for sure when you stop by. I hope all my friends can go together, but with all our schedules being different, it’s getting crazy. Not flying yet, but I’ve drafted Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom to be my personal trainers. It’s like old times for the Cutie Mark Crusaders. We’re gonna try everything we can until something works! Don’t worry, the town’s still standing. See you when you get back! Scootaloo Scootaloo leaned back. The fireflies were starting to go back to sleep, and the room dimmed. She pulled the other letter out of the garbage and smoothed it out. She put both letters into an envelope, but not before adding P.S. I didn’t really know which letter to send, so I’ll send them both. Sorry about the drama. You’re the coolest. She licked the envelope closed and stuck a stamp in the corner. She let the fireflies flicker out, pulled the covers off of her bed, and lay down for what was sure to be a short night.