//------------------------------// // Roommate Mix Up! The Adventurous Month Begins! // Story: The Adventures of Derpy, Lyra, and Octavia // by IsabellaAmoreSirenix //------------------------------// “I am skipping, skipping, skipping, skipping, because I’m very haaaappy! Today is the day when I get to meet new ponies, and we’ll have fun and plaaaaaay!” Needless to say, Derpy was very happy about her first day at Princess Luna’s Academy for the Fine Arts. Yes, there it was. Happy, first day, and academy rolled into one sentence. Yes, she understood English. No, she didn’t have a concussion. And no, no, no, her crossed eyes did not make her stupid. She couldn’t be stupid, not if she was able to be accepted into Princess Luna’s Academy for the Fine Arts, one of the best schools in all of Equestria. Derpy walked along, holding a map of the campus with her wingtips. “Let’s see,” she said, flipping through the colorful diagrams. “My room’s in the East Tower, and…” She glanced outside at the late-afternoon sun hiding behind a blanket of dark clouds. “The sun is out! And the sun rises in the east! I’m going the right way after all!” Derpy did a loop-de-loop in midair. “See, I knew I could do it without the Doctor’s help! Oh, he’ll be so proud of me! Maybe I can be a little lost sometimes, but absolutely nothing can go wrong today! However, there is a close cousin of stupid in the English language. There isn’t an exact definition, but you can see it very clearly in certain ponies. Ponies that dive straight into a situation without any worries. Ponies that think their classmate’s stories about the horrors of perpetually running on caffeine are just exaggerations. Ponies that miss the dark gloomy storm clouds outside as a sign of this is not a fun place. Yes, let’s call it naive. “…naïve to think I could manage the xylophone and the bassoon,” Octavia grumbled as she dragged the heavy cases up the fifth flight of stairs. “I haven’t even brought up my cel— oh!” With a resounding crash, the cases tumbled around one mare collapsed on the waxy tiles. She pulled herself out with a laborious grunt before wrapping her tail around the handles. Yanking on her tail, she made them scrape across the floor with every step. “I wonder if this is even worth that scholarship money,” Octavia wondered aloud, before checking herself. It was one thing to get a letter with a fancy-looking government seal. It was quite another to find the goddess of the Night with her head through your kitchen window and shouting, “MANY CONGRATULATIONS TO THEE, YOUNG PAUPER! THY PRINCESS HAST GRACED THEE WITH AN ABUNDANCE OF WEALTH FOR THINE ACADEMICS! NOW IN RETURN, PLEASE OFFER UP SOME OF THINE HASBROWNS!” Octavia remembered the horrible ringing in her ears that commenced afterwards and shuddered. If she were anypony else, she would have pondered how sompony so loud could possibly enjoy music. Of course, Octavia was best friends with Canterlot’s top DJ, Vinyl Scratch. Even just thinking of that name managed to raise Octavia’s spirits. Come on, she urged herself. Just a little further, and you’ll get to settle into your room with Vinyl. Besides, if Vinyl could handle wheeling in a full set of subwoofers into their dorm room… Octavia stopped dead in her tracks. Oh Celestia, why. Many times, Vinyl had told Octavia to ‘look on the bright side.’ Octavia had never understood why. She could see plenty of bright sides in her life. The bright sunlight that made her wince and squint her eyes as they streamed from the windows, the hallway light that shone through a crack in her door for the sole purpose of assaulting her tired eyes, the list went on and on. And now, here was a new one: the lights on a turntable dashboard that spelled certain doom. Octavia fell to her knees. Celestia, why?! And through all of her conversations with Vinyl, Octavia repeatedly denied that she was negative. Because it was true. She wasn’t negative in the slightest. See this little slight here? <> Good, you’re not oblivious. Know what you don’t see? Negativity, that’s what. But perhaps just the slightest bit of pessimism. “Pessimism! Ooh, that’s a good one!” Lyra rummaged through her mane, creating a strange series of squeaks and honks before pulling out a neon green pen with a crazy purple feather duct taped where the eraser would be. She stuck that end in her mouth as she walked along. Some talented mouth manipulation, and the word ‘pessimism’ was written on the underside of her right hoof. Satisfied, Lyra tossed her Word of the Day calendar high into the air, and somehow it landed perfectly in her saddlebag. Pessimism. A good word, but where to use it? It certainly wasn’t apropos for Lyra’s day so far. A nice little walk around campus had greeted her with a spontaneous musical number, a fascinating conversation on giving the mythical species flufflepuffs a homeland, and a plethora of confused stares. Yup, it was turning out to be a great day so far! Lyra took the stairs two at a time, then three, then one, then four and back again. That was the order of her life, to be unordered. It was interesting, it kept ponies riveted... Lyra stopped and wrote the word riveted under pessimism. Hmm, maybe Bon Bon would be up for some riveting discussion about pessimism? Probably not. She'd just shake her head, give a small smile, and finish unpacking. That would be a pretty Bon Bon thing to do. With that thought in mind, Lyra stopped to rummage through her saddlebag, causing several pins like "80% caffeine" and "don't bet on sinking ships" to fall off the worn flap. Finally, Lyra decided to forgo that morning's six seconds of "organizing" to dump all the bag's contents onto the ground. "Aha!" She declared triumphantly, pulling out a dog-earned scrap album. The pictures were faded, but their colors still warm like pastel paints. Her golden magic aura enveloped the pages as she turned to the ones from her fillyhood. First day at school, dodgeball tournament, birthday with a drooping Boston cream pie… dang, her parents had a strange fixation with tortured looking fillies. She'd have to ask them about that later... There it was. First grade, school pictures, and there was Bon Bon wearing that exact look of knowing laughter. Next to her was an enthusiastic Lyra in a bright rainbow headband, three hair bows, dozens of ankle bracelets that went past her knees on all four legs, layers of bottle cap necklaces, and one crazy smile. Despite how heavy her accessories must have weighed on her, her entire posture gave off the feeling of jumping, even in a still photo. In the next retake of that photo, Bon Bon was nowhere to be seen. Lyra picked up the pace as she trotted up the winding stairs to the east tower. Maybe after they settled in, she could ask Bon Bon to proofread her story. After all, Bon Bon never knew how to take a break from writing... though to be fair, neither did Lyra. Writing was so natural, just like breathing. And here she was, at the finest academy in Equestria, which would reward her for - basically - breathing! How could Lyra get a better deal? ...Well, maybe by not having her professors read it. It was irrational, Lyra knew. After all, she wrote to have other ponies read it. That was the whole point. But still, it felt strange, thinking of deadlines and prompts, of the feared read ink staining her frail little words. By signing up for her creative writing major, Lyra had essentially given her teachers a key to unlock her vast, enchanting world of fairies and sea ponies and hum— A crossword puzzle fell out of Lyra's backpack. Curious, she picked it up and buried her nose in it. "Hmm," she read, holding it upside down, "9 across. A word meaning discombobulated, out of touch with the real world, with thoughts unintelligible to normal ponies." "Crazy?" Lyra wondered aloud, to the stares of the random students walking by. "No, not enough letters? Insane? No, not quite..." Then the lightbulb turned on. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I know!" With her magic, she reached for her quill and filled in the spaces. Eccentric. Derpy panted for air as she made it up the last flight of stairs. "...East Tower..." she gasped. "How... How was supposed... to know... the sun sets in… the west? Oh Derpy, you're such a scatterbrain!" Yet she was still smiling, and though not quite with the buoyant enthusiasm of earlier, she still walked with a bouncy rhythm. "Oh well, at least I got to see more of the campus! And more ponies! I can't believe they all stopped to help me find the tower. Gosh, everypony here is so nice! I can't wait to tell the Doctor..." Derpy skidded to a halt. "Oh no!" she cried. "It's late; he must be so worried about me!" Taking a deep breath, Derpy narrowed her eyes in her serious (but still ridiculously adorable) game face. "I'm coming, Doctor!" she shouted, pumping her hoof in the air before with a strong flap of her wings, she took off flying for her room. As she rounded the corner, Derpy heard noises. They weren't anything like the nice noises she had heard all throughout her day: chirping birds, laughing ponies, violin music from open windows, spontaneous musical numbers. No, what she was hearing then was quite the opposite. It was the worst, most not-nice sound there could be. The sound of two ponies arguing. Derpy touched down on the doormat of Room 305, where the shouting was coming from. Then she checked the piece of paper the nice superintendent had given her, and sure enough, there was the number 305 in bright blue lettering. Suddenly, the little pegasus didn't feel quite so on air anymore. The foreboding door seemed to tower over her, the shiny gold plaque a judging eye flashing down on her. The walls started to shrink, yet everything felt so big, far bigger than her. Even her ribcage felt bigger with each violent pounding of her heart. Derpy shook her head. She couldn't open the door. Fortunately or unfortunately for her, she didn't have to. Without any warning, the door exploded open, a pillow shooting out of the entry way at speeds not even the pegasus could dream of reaching. Derpy glanced first at the door, then at the pillow, lying harmlessly on the ground. She had never known pillows to argue. How very interesting this academy life was, Derpy figured. She poked it with her shaking hoof. It was soft and fluffy, just like the ones at home. Pillows couldn't possibly hurt ponies, Derpy knew, not when they were so good for cuddling. Maybe she could help the pillows not argue anymore! Yes, that was the plan. So filled with resolved and a joyful grin, Derpy strode upon to doorway and peeked her head in. Inside the room was chaos. Bags strewn everywhere, sheets tossed off the beds, articles of clothing tossed every which way. And in the centrifuge of this destruction were none other than Lyra and Octavia, both currently screaming their heads off. "In the name of Celestia, would you please stop dumping your things here?" Octavia implored. "This isn't your room. I know for a fact that Room 305 has been reserved for Octavia Melody and Vinyl Scratch, the second of whom needs someplace to put her subwoofers. I'm very sorry for the confusion, but I must insist, you really need to get out!" "If you'd quit being stubborn as a mule," Lyra shouted back, "you'd actually get a brain and figure out that this is my room. Room 305 is Bon Bon and Lyra Central; I checked with the secretary this morning. There's obviously been some sort of mix up on your end. Now, I'm not going to kick you out... not yet, anyway, but seriously, let me just get to my closet!" Octavia groaned and leaned against the desk on her side of the room. "Would you please just go to the superintendent's office and straighten this out like I've suggested a million times?" "What, no way!" Lyra exclaimed. "I'd miss dinner that way!" "Oh, how tragic," Octavia mocked. "I haven't even been able to stop at the lockers in the concert hall because of this mess." She snarled at Lyra. "I've a horrible day bringing these instruments all the way up here, and you're out of your mind if you think I'm taking another trip. You should go check!" "I know what you're trying to do!" Lyra shouted. "You want me to leave so you and your vagabond can subjugate this place!" "You're crazy!" Octavia retorted. "Go get your head examined!" "Crazy?" Lyra shrieked. "Crazy? Do you have any idea how overused that word is? If you're going to insult me, at least use cockamamie or imbecilic!" "I rest my case," Octavia said. "Your case is upside-down by the humidifier," Lyra answered. With a scream worthy of an Applewood audition, Octavia ran over to the humidifier, where as luck would have had it, her violin case was sitting. "The strings!" she cried. "Oh, the strings will get out of tune, the wood will contract, and I'll never be able to play this violin again!" She shot Lyra dagger-like glares. "I hope you... you... have a very bad day!" "With your mother!" Lyra shouted. "What does is that even supposed to mean?" Octavia sneered. "Wonderful insults, freak show." "Hey, my characters are nice!" Lyra said defensively. "I'm out of practice writing insults! Maybe I should practice by carving some into your cel--" Enraged, Octavia chucked at Lyra the first object she could grab out of her bag: a juice box of chimmichangas. "I will--! Wait, you like chimmichangas? You know, my friend has a place here in Canterlot where they make really good ones. And not the cheap Manehattan type; I'm talking about fresh--" "Umm, excuse me," said Derpy nervously as she knocked on the door. "I... Uh, well, I..." Both Lyra and Octavia watched her in absolute silence. Derpy had no idea what she meant to say. Perhaps she meant to give an inspiring speech about embracing the magic of friendship, or maybe she meant to really politely ask them to be quiet. Whatever the case, what she meant definitely wasn't what came next: "You have really nice pillows! Do you think I could borrow one for the night, since... well, there's not really a bed here for me." Octavia stormed out of the room. "What do you mean 'a mistake'?" "I'm sorry, Miss Melody," said Raven as she shuffled papers on her desk, "but you're not the only roommate mix-up case to come up today. It seems some of our lower secretaries who were in charge of transcribing the names and room numbers were rather... absentminded." At the last word, she gritted her teeth and shot a death glare at the harried ponies running about frantically in the room behind her. "July writing camp indeed." With a huff, Raven turned back to Octavia. "As it is now, we simply don't have the ponies right now to handle your specific case. Of course, we'll put you on the list, but at the rate we're going, you probably won't get your proper room for about a month." Octavia's jaw dropped. One. Whole. Month. At least Vinyl's subwoofers was the devil she knew. Those two lunatics? All she could foresee was chaos. "Believe me, I'm not pleased about the situation either," said Raven. "And now they're going on about another month long writing contest or something. Ridiculous business. Will that be all, Miss Melody?" One. Whole. Month. "No!" Octavia said just a little too loudly, her voice just a little too high pitched. "No, no problem at all! I can assure you, everything will be just fine!" That night, the students would swear they heard a cat being strangled in a bassoon at the top of the East Tower.