//------------------------------// // The Brony Princess (Unfinished) // Story: Future Progressive: The Speedfics and Drabbles of Present Perfect // by PresentPerfect //------------------------------// The Brony Princess by Present Perfect Chapter 1 I don't even have to look up to know who had slapped the pamphlet out of my hands: no one at my school wears more of those rubber bracelets than Chryssy Morgan. "Sorry, Latie Katie," she sneers, "only pretty girls are allowed in auditions. Maybe if you're lucky, they'll let you lift the curtain up and down. Or maybe clean up afterwards!" She laughs, and her posse laughs with her. Candace Hodges, Audrey Wurtzelbacher, Molly Karpinsky: they're all names that have haunted me since second grade. Even after all these years, after we were all supposed to be growing up and thinking about our future, they're stuck in the past with childish grudges. And no, I don't know what I ever did to them. Existed, I guess. "And just in case it wasn't clear," Candace says, pointing a finger in my face, "you. Aren't. Pretty. Ever!" They laugh like it's the funniest joke in the world. I just stand there and look at the dirty tiles beneath my feet. I've learned to just take the abuse. They usually go away after a while. Today, there's apparently a two insult limit because they take off down the hall after that, still laughing. I stoop to pick up the dropped pamphlet, shuffle three steps to put it in a trash can, and then head back to my locker. Millard Fillmore High is like a lot of other high schools, I guess. There are about a hundred people in my class, because this is kind of a small town, which means that if anyone like Chryssy gets it into their head that they don't like you, they have plenty of opportunity to remind you of it for the rest of your life. There's never been any way for me to get away from them, which is why I developed my defenses. Never strike back. Never look them in the eye. Turtle up so it hurts less. Stay quiet. The only hope is to not give them a reaction. Once they get bored, they give up and leave, and then you're home free. Until the next time, anyway. My next time was soon coming. The moment I close my locker door, my arms full of books, a shoulder slams into mine, knocking me off balance against the cold metal. "Suck it, pony freak!" More laughter, from boys this time, echoes down the hallway. I can only guess at who it is, the list of possible candidates is so long. "Are you all right?" an adult voice says. A teacher I don't know, a weedy man in a bowtie and thick plastic-framed glasses, stands wringing his hands just out of arm's reach. I right myself, and bend down to gather up my books. "Yeah," I mumble. "Good. If I find those boys, you can bet there's a long detention in store for them." Oh, detention, great. I've always imagined they hold meetings in detention, my tormentors, making elaborate plans just to torture me more the next day. It certainly never deters them from continuing on with their behavior. "Thanks." He's there a moment longer. "You'll be late if you don't hurry," he says, his voice strained, then shambles down the hallway in the direction the boys went. I pay him no attention, grab my last book, and make for my fifth period classroom. Being late, by the way, is not how I got this terrible nickname. Once, in seventh grade, before I had come up with my rules, I made the mistake of threatening suicide after Audrey and Molly stole a stuffed animal of mine and burned it in front of me. I'd said something about them being sorry after I was gone. Then Audrey said something about me being a "late Kate" after that and the name just happened. It's been with me ever since. And just like everything else in my life, I silently hate it. I don't really have any friends, but I've talked to other people in my classes, the ones who get picked on and beat up too. Usually we just give each other glances in the hallway. I've tried to hang around with them and make friends before, but they say I just attract the worst bullies. Honestly, I think they just don't like me for whatever reason and don't want to hurt my feelings. At least that makes them somewhat considerate. But during these talks, I've learned that a lot of them only have to deal with the abuse half the day. After school, they get to go home and everything's great. Me? Things are almost worse at home. I just don't get hit there; that's not mother's way. That "pony freak" crack earlier? Yeah, I get teased for watching My Little Pony because I dared to bring one to school once. It's the new My Little Pony, way better than the old stuff from the eighties and nineties. I was never into it when I was a girl, but now it's my world. The characters are great, the comedy is great, and I love that it stays upbeat and positive when the world is so dark and uncertain. My favorite pony, by the way, is Twilight, because she's a total geek and I can identify with that; I really like Rarity too, though I didn't at first. She seemed too much like the girls who bullied in school, but then I realized that she actually cared about her friends. Plus, she doesn't take any shit from anypony; I want to be like her one day. But not today. Today, I'm just able to sneak off school grounds before someone sees me and decides to have at me outside where teachers can dole out punishments. I've been beaten up on the way to and from school before. There's nothing to be done about it, really, so I just keep quiet and try to dry my tears before I get where I'm going. And that's why I hate having to walk everywhere. Unfortunately, my mother refuses to drive me. She says cars are too dangerous and shouldn't be used frivolously, as if protecting your daughter from physical harm is frivolous. She drives five miles under the speed limit anyway. It's mother that makes my life at home a hell. And where the bullies at school are the ones that hurt my physically, she's been spending my entire life trying to control me with guilt and paranoia. I used to believe everything she said when I was younger, but since I got wise to the fact that she might not have her head on straight, I've been trying to resist as long as possible. Seriously, she has all kinds of weird beliefs. She's not even religious, just crazy. Like, she dresses really frumpy, making sure to conceal as much of herself as possible. Once, the windows were all nailed shut, until I had to call the fire department and they cited her and even threatened to have her arrested if she didn't undo it. The windows in her room are still held shut like that. Most of all, she thinks TV is some evil corrupting influence, or maybe that it lets the government spy on you; I've never quite figured out the difference. I only convinced her to get me a computer because I needed it for school, and that's how I found My Little Pony. It's also how I found my real friends: the bronies. They're a bunch of people my age, mostly guys, who love the show. It's weird, I know, but they're all great people. They're always there to make me feel better when I'm feeling down. All kinds of bronies have been through things similar to me, and it's great knowing people who actually care about you, even when they haven't met you. In two years, when I can move out of this house, I'm going to meet as many of them as I can, and hug them. Until then, though, I lose a lot of sleep, because I have to wait until mother goes to bed before using my laptop for anything but schoolwork. Trust me, she checks in frequently. As for my dad, he doesn't make things any better. Actually, he doesn't make things any worse, really; he just doesn't do anything at all. Today, he's sitting in his recliner, the ugly dark green one with corduroy upholstery in the shape of his backside, his fingers wrapped limply around a beer can, staring into space. I can hear the radio on in the kitchen, and the house is dark, like it usually is. "Your mother's looking for you," he croaks. For a moment, I thought he might be asleep. I ignore him; he won't tell her I'm home unless she asks, and go to my room. The house is like a million years old, one story, and really cramped because mother keeps lots of stuff that she doesn't need to. There's old magazines and newspapers stacked everywhere, just to name one thing she hoards. There used to be trash all over the place too, but that was another thing the fire department took care of. I still have to step around empty cardboard boxes to make it to my room, though. As soon as I shut the door, I can hear, "Katelyn? Are you home?" from the other side. I slide against the door and wait, hearing thudding footsteps from the kitchen to my door. She tries the knob. I hate that. "Katelyn, talk to me." "What is it?" "Did you see any strange men on your way home?" Oh brother, here we go. "No, mother." "Are you sure? They could have been hiding, you know!" "If they were hiding, how would I see them?" "Oh dear, I'll have to bar the door. Stay inside tonight, we'll have to make sure. I'm making eggs for dinner." She knows I hate eggs. "Yes, mother." The footsteps clump back to the kitchen. I sigh and get out my laptop. I've got civics homework again, because Mrs. Nedelmeyer is fucking evil. It's after dinner and I'm waiting for signs that mother has gone to bed. Dad sleeps in his chair, which is where he spends eighty percent of his time anyway. I've got my computer up, with a chat window open but not in the foreground, just in case she comes in. She does. Without so much as knocking, she opens the door -- she won't let me get a lock for it, of course, and rifles through my dresser sometimes -- and stomps in. "Katelyn," she says flatly, "are you still doing homework?" "Yes, mother." "Do you know how late it is? You need sleep!" "This is hard. I'm not in elementary school anymore." She's never seen through the lie, though tonight I'm kind of telling the truth. Mostly, I was just dragging my feet on it all night. "Well, you should really study more. I don't like you spending so much time with that thing, the radiation could give you cancer!" "I'll be fine, mother, I promise." "And another thing!" She scoots closer, and I close the chat without saying goodbye, just to make sure she doesn't see it. "You aren't talking with people on that internet, are you?" "No, mother. I wouldn't do something so... dangerous, you know that." "Good. I just heard a story on the news today about how everyone on the internet is a pedophile predator. They're all disgusting middle-aged men looking for a nubile young body to desecrate!" I'm hardly nubile, mother, get a hold of yourself. "Of course," is what I say instead. "Just you be warned!" She shakes her finger at me, turns, and shuffles out of the room. I have to get up and close the door behind her, and I shove a chair under the door handle, though that doesn't always work. Then I pick up my laptop, climb into bed, and go back to chat. I take a few minutes to calm everyone down; they were concerned because I left so abruptly. Once I explain what happened, I get some sympathetic words. And now I'm getting mad, so mad that that woman could ever think that such wonderful, noble people were somehow terrible. She's the terrible one, and she's going to be stuck in this terrible house with her terrible husband and her terrible beliefs for the rest of her terrible life. I just can't wait until I can extract myself from it. This day has been terrible. I mean, I've been pushed around at school before, and I've had to deal with my mother's shit every single day of my life, but somehow, everything that's happened to me today just comes together and I start to cry. I try to keep it down, so I don't wake her back up. I mention it in chat, and they give me hugs. Someone, a new chatter that I don't know well, suggests that if we all lived in Equestria, life would be better. We wouldn't have to deal with pain and bullies and crazy parents. Which isn't totally true, Rainbow Dash had to deal with bullies, but I understand what they mean, and the chat quickly turns to discussion of what life would be like in Equestria. I'm feeling desperate, that must be it. I climb out of bed, quietly, and move over to the one window in my tiny room. I wrench it upward, mindful of the sharp bits where the nails used to be, and look up at the night sky. It's Luna's sky, is what we like to say. I'm not sure if she or any of the other ponies exist; it's just a show, after all. But all the pain in my heart wants them to exist. I want to be there, to go to Equestria, and start a better life. There's a shooting star. "Princess, please take me to Equestria!" I shout. Then it's gone. I feel stupid, yelling something like that out my window where other people, or, God forbid, my mother, could hear it. In fact, the light in my neighbor's house turns on, and I shut the window before they can harass me. Feeling my face flush, I crawl back into bed, bid my friends goodnight, and shut the laptop off. I set it gently on my desk, pull the covers over myself, and cry until I fall asleep. Chapter 2 I'm on an airplane. It's cramped and the engines sound funny, like there's a bunch of beads caught in them or something. There's a Michael Jackson impersonator standing up in the middle of the cabin. He's got a sign that says, "GOD HATES FAGS AND YOU" and is screaming about how we're all going to hell, right now. The air marshal stands up, with his hand on his gun, and starts trying to yell him down. People are shouting at them both to shut up. I pull up my knees and cover my ears, but I can still hear them. And just as the air marshal is about to shoot Michael, the plane rocks and I see one of the wings fall away. We start spiralling through the air. The captain comes on over the intercom and says, "Everyone, please fasten your seatbelts for the rest of your life." I have just one more moment. I can see Twilight Sparkle, standing outside the plane. She's mouthing something; I can't hear it, but I know what the words are. "You'll never save yourself." I wake up, and something is wrong. I'm in my bed, but it's... warm. Like, extra warm. It's only March, after all, it shouldn't be this warm for at least another two weeks. Then I peek out from under my covers and I see the wrong. It's so bright, it hurts my eyes at first. After squeezing them shut and letting the light filter in through my eyelids, I can kind of start to crack them open. Holy crap, I'm not in Kansas anymore. I'm not in my room, or my house, or probably even my city. Instead, there are grassy hills rolling away from me. The sky is bright blue, with just a few puffy clouds, that somehow look a little too perfect. The sun is behind me at the moment, but it's reflecting off of gorgeous blue water, rippling lazily off over the horizon. I don't live near water. Could it be? I suddenly remember my wish, if you could call it that, from last night. Did I... Am I in Equestria? I turn around, and the answer quickly becomes obvious. In front of me is an enormous pink castle. It's got a small moat, and the towers are... fuzzy? Also, there's nothing else around, no city or any other buildings, just some bushes, and further out, a forest. It's actually very blank around here. As I'm sitting there, trying to figure everything out, the castle drawbridge begins to lower. My gosh, I'm about to meet whoever -- or whatever -- lives here, face to face. This is a castle. That means royalty lives here, or at least a noble. I'm in my freaking sweatpants that I've been wearing as pajamas for like a week. Oh god, they're gonna think I'm a freak. That train of thought vanishes as the bridge finally meets the ground with a thump. And out come... ponies? Immediately, I can tell something is wrong. All three are earth ponies, for one, and all wearing crowns. They're a little bigger than I expected, not to mention a different... art style? That can't be right. It's not like this place is drawn, if I'm here, right? I take a look at my hands quickly, just to be sure. No, I look pretty much the same. Unfortunately. But they're definitely no ponies I've ever seen before. One's white, dappled lavender, with deep purple mane; one's mostly pink, with yellow mane and a white-dappled back half; and the third is lavender with bright red mane. They're all smiling, which is good, and the purple one approaches me first. "Hello there!" Wow, it's a boy pony, that's surprising. "Welcome to the Filly Kingdom! I'm Prince Cedric, and these are my sisters, Princess Jade--" the pink one nods-- "and Princess Pretty!" The one with the red mane hops, her grin getting wider. "Oh wow, you brought your own bed! How thoughtful of you!" "Sister, mind your manners," says Princess Jade calmly. "We haven't asked her name yet." It takes me a second to find my voice. I can't believe this is actually happening, even if these aren't the ponies I know and love. "I-it's Katelyn. But you can call me Kate." "Oh, how wonderful!" Princess Pretty tosses her mane and giggles. "Kate, you'll be our new friend and you can stay with us in the Castle of Sirona!"