//------------------------------//
// Chapter 4: Braid Bonding 
// Story: The Last Vacation 
// by Noble Thought 
//------------------------------//

	Twilight sat on a round wooden stool, fidgeting with her hair. She bundled it into a bun at the nape of her neck, held it there, and stared at herself. Then she let it down and let it fall wetly to her shoulders.
 
She stared at her image in the mirror.
 
She did it again.
 
Bun.
 
Flat.
 
Me.
 
Her.
 
She looked away.
 
Rarity’s bathroom was as opulently, if simply, appointed as the rest of the house. Tile covered almost every surface, dark blue in the center, and fading to white above, and a faint yellow below. It was almost like being on the beach again. Except for the mirror.
 
The reflection staring back at her looked odd. The mirror was clear, and that was her face staring back at her. But she still found it hard to reconcile the girl reflected in the glass with who she was. She tugged at her hair, pulled it away from her ears, then swept it forward. The girl in the mirror still didn’t look any different than the girl in the photographs.
 
Bangs. Other Twilight had bangs, too. She frowned at them, then at her long, straight, and still very wet hair. The photograph began to bleed over into the mirror, delicately tufted pony ears replaced her human ones, and wings—
 
She sighed and slumped forward against the counter, staring at herself staring back at her other self. The photograph faded away, and she was Twilight Sparkle, human girl, again.
 
“Twilight, dear?” Rarity’s voice came, muffled, through the door. A faint knock tapped at the door a moment later. “Are you doing alright?”
 
“I’m fine!” she called back.
 
“You’ve been in there for an hour.”
 
Has it been that long? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was hogging the bathroom.” She paused, looking down at her purple pajamas, decorated only with a single, satin stripe around the chest. “I’ll be out in a sec.”
 
“No rush,” Rarity called back. “Do you need some help?”
 
“Yes.” It escaped her mouth before she could think. She sighed. “No.”
 
“Can I come in?” Rarity jiggled the knob.
 
Twilight stood and went to open the door. She paused, hand on the lock. “I’m okay, really. I just need some time to…” Lies burbled forth. Go to the bathroom. Wash my hair. Brush my teeth. All things she had already done. “Think,” she finished.
 
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rarity’s voice sounded concerned.
 
Twilight could almost see her face: Rarity biting her bottom lip as soon as she’d finished the question, could almost feel her hand through the doorknob. She turned the lock.
 
“No.” She opened the door.
 
Rarity stood in the door, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “You’ve been quiet ever since you came back from your walk.” Her eyes flicked, for the briefest of glances, to Twilight’s hand, then back up to her face. “Did… something happen?”
 
Her hand jerked behind her back before she could stop it. The memory of fingers brushing her palm returned. “N-no. Nothing happened.” Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Of course Rarity would have been able to see. We weren’t hiding it. She dropped her hand back down, then backed away from the door. “We talked.”
 
“Good.” Rarity followed her into the bathroom, then closed the door, but didn’t lock it. “Twilight, you don’t have to hide in here. We’re happy to have you join us.”
 
“I’m not hiding.” She pulled her hair back, then reached for the brush. “I’m waiting for my hair to dry.”
 
Rarity’s brow arched, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
 
“I’m sorry.” Twilight backed up and sat on the hard wooden stool in front of the mirror. “I’m worrying again. I’m not very good at vacationing, am I?” She looked aside, locking eyes with herself in the mirror, then looked down at the brush in her lap. Shame coiled around her throat, and her fingers squeaked on the smooth wooden brush handle as she gripped it tighter.
 
“Twilight…” Rarity’s lips moved, but nothing came out. Finally, she smiled and knelt in front of Twilight, hands resting on the brush. “You know what always made me feel better?”
 
“Brushing your hair?” Twilight said, lifting a damp strand and flicking it back and forth. She tried to smile, but it fell apart into a frown. Fingers brushed her cheek, then cupped under her chin. She didn’t resist when gentle pressure guided her to look up.
 
“No.” Rarity paused, lips pursed. “Well, yes. That, too. But what really helps me relax is being pampered.” Gentle fingers loosened her grip on the brush. “Can I do that for you?”
 
Cadance’s voice popped into her head: “Twily, bedtime!”
 
She felt her babysitter’s fingers stroking through her hair again. Over and over, gentle and caring. “Oh! You’ve done your forty strokes already?”
 
“Yes.” She let Rarity take the brush from her. The voice faded, and she took a deep breath, coming back to the present.
 
Rarity’s blue eyes were locked onto hers. “Twilight?”
 
For a moment, those eyes flashed violet, and she saw Cadance’s face again. Then it was gone, and Rarity was waiting for her. One hand rested on the brush, the other touching her chin. “I would like that.”
 
Rarity set the brush on the counter, then stood and stepped around her. “What are you thinking about?” She asked, fingers brushing over Twilight’s cheek and neck to gather up the wet locks.
 
“Things.” She tensed again, then sighed. “Twilight,” she said, rubbing her temples. The tension left.
 
“Ah.” Rarity fell quiet, her hands busy teasing and tweaking, brushing and stroking.
 
Twilight caught a glance of her in the mirror. Rarity’s hands moved with a smooth surety, deftly separating the different colors of her hair and splaying them smoothly along the damp back of her pajamas. After her afternoon with Fluttershy, holding hands and walking along the beach, the attention felt natural.
 
“I used to do this for Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said in a wistful lilt. “She would complain and complain, and then finally relent and let me brush her hair straight.” She clucked her tongue. “Not that it ever stayed that way. She takes after mother far more than I do.”
 
Fingers pressed into Twilight’s scalp, sending a shiver through her body. Nails brushed lightly at her hair’s roots over and over again until her toes curled.
 
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Rarity said as her fingers were joined by the stiff, plastic-tipped bristles of the brush. The brushing settled into a soothing rhythm.
 
Twilight nodded.
 
The stroking motion of the brush and the fingers continued steadily. Crown to nape. Nape and away. Over and over. She let her eyes close, losing herself in the simple, almost sensual bliss.
 
Rarity hummed quietly over the sound of the brush whisking through smooth, drying locks of hair.
 
As the tension bled away from her shoulders and back, the tune changed to one reminiscent of one of the songs they’d played just for fun after the battle of the bands was over.
 
“Shine Like Rainbows?” she asked, opening her eyes and looking at Rarity’s reflection.
 
“It’s quite catchy, isn’t it?” Rarity smiled. “Thank you for helping us write it.” She paused, brush stalling momentarily. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but where did you learn to sing?”
 
“My mom. She used to sing for a band when she was younger,” Twilight said. “I tried to sing like her when I was little, and she got me a vocal coach.” She shrugged. “I didn’t sing much after I got older, but it’s not like I could forget the lessons.”
 
“That would explain a lot.” Rarity tapped the top of her head with the brush. “Still, you have a lovely singing voice. Once you cleared out the cobwebs.” The brush resumed stroking through her hair. “Your hair is as smooth as silk. Do you brush it at night?”
 
“Sometimes.” Twilight’s thoughts strayed to other nights where someone had helped her brush. “Cadance, my babysitter—” Twilight slapped a hand over her mouth.
 
Rarity smiled and patted the hand away. “It’s okay, you know. I had one when we I was younger, too. When my parents were off making some business deal in this or that foreign country.” She paused her brushing momentarily. “And then I was the babysitter when Sweetie was old enough to stay home.”
 
“Cadance… she taught me why I should brush my hair. Exactly forty brushes. Hand over comb to help keep the hair soft, and prevent split ends.” Twilight recited the instructions from memory, repeated over and over after Cadance had showed her. “I looked it up in a book, later, but couldn’t find any evidence to back it up.”
 
“Not everything has to be backed up with evidence, you know. Sometimes…” Rarity’s hands stalled. The brush fell away, and she sniffled.
 
“Are you okay?” What do I do? Twilight shifted, then turned to look up at Rarity.
 
“I don’t know.” Rarity rubbed at her eyes while tears ran in clear rivulets down her cheeks. She flashed a trembling smile, and waved the brush at the bathroom. “No. Just… sometimes you mull something over without really thinking about it and then…” She waved the brush again, then set it down, her hand shaking. “Then it just hits you.”
 
Understanding struck. The house. She stood and pulled Rarity around in front of the stool with a gentle tug on her wrist. “It’s okay, Rarity. We’ll figure something out, okay?”
 
Rarity didn’t resist. “Oh, I know. I worry, is all.” She snorted. “And here I am telling you not to worry.” She sniffed again, and sat down, hands folded in her lap. “I should learn to take my own advice.”
 
Twilight hesitated as she stepped around behind Rarity, fingers resting on the brush. Will she let me?
 
Rarity sat still, staring down at her hands while tears dripped, slower and slower, to run down the back of her hand.
 
“I’ve been thinking, too,” Twilight said, fingers closing over the brush’s smooth handle. A moment later, she was slipping her fingers through Rarity’s curled locks, then following it with a smooth downsweep of the brush. The exact train of thought that led to that moment escaped her.
 
Maybe there wasn’t one. Thoughts popped in and out of her mind, unheeded. Worries drifted away on the whisper of the brush as silk flowed through her fingers.
 
The tears slowed to a stop, and Rarity sat up straighter. “I’m sorry. This house, the memories…”
 
“It will work out, in the end,” Twilight said, pausing to cup Rarity’s cheek lightly.
 
“I know it will. Somehow.” Rarity rubbed her cheek against the hand and looked up. “Friends,” Rarity sang in a whisper, “you are in my life.”
 
“And you can count on me to be there by your side,” Twilight sang back, her voice low and cracking at the end. She dropped the brush on the counter, and leaned forward to wrap Rarity in a tight hug. “I promise.”
 



 
“There y’all are.” Applejack’s smile greeted Twilight as she and Rarity started down the stairs. “We was wonderin’ what happened.”
 
“I had a…” Twilight trailed off, worries sprouting again, her hand clutching a strand of hair. She took a deep breath, gave herself a mental shake, and forced her attention to the stairs.
 
Halfway down, she looked up to see her friends, concern written in their faces, staring up at her. For me. An hour in the bathroom. An hour trying to decide who she was. Her eyes flicked to Fluttershy, who smiled brightly at her. She flipped her hair back. “I had to... think about something.”
 
Her friends traded more concerned looks with each other.
 
Twilight’s cheeks burned. Do they all know why I’ve been... weird?
 
“And she helped me to see what this house means,” Rarity said. She reached back to take Twilight’s hand, then continued, voice tighter: “To me, and to all of us. Th-this isn’t just a vacation house that’s difficult to keep up. This is my childhood.” Her other hand slapped the railing. “This is our retreat.” She drew Twilight down a few steps, and wrapped an arm around her waist. “We are going to save this house.” Her confident stance faltered, but she lifted her chin. “I don’t know how yet, but we’re going to do it. This will not be our last vacation here.”
 
“I’ll admit, I was gettin’ kinda worried. I mean, you did kinda just drop that on us.” Applejack peered at her cards, frowned, and folded. “Then nothin’ happened for a couple days. We just kinda... had fun.” She rubbed the back of her neck, looking uncomfortable.
 
“Nothing wrong with having fun.” Pinkie grinned and laid out a straight flush, and gathered up the winnings: a bag of chips and two sodas. “So where do we start?” She popped the tab on a soda and sucked hurriedly at the foam bubbling up. “Gah!”
 
Rarity shook her head. “I don’t know. This isn’t like everything else we’ve faced together, is it? No monsters, no villains, just this house, and us.” She started down the stairs again, one hand trailing along the smooth, warmly accented wooden railing. “I don’t even know where to start, really.”
 
“We start with a plan.” A plan to... do what, exactly? Twilight frowned, then followed Rarity down, letting her hand drop to her side again. Do research. “We need to know what we’re getting into, first. Then we can make a real plan. Rarity, you said the maintenance was the most expensive part, right?”
 
Rarity gave a hesitant nod, frowning. “I don’t know the exact expenses, but that is one of the things my parents are keen on reducing. I... admit that I don’t know much about my parent’s finances. They’re careful not to talk about them until they think we’re asleep.”
 
“Makes sense. I wouldn’t want Apple Bloom to worry about the farm,” Applejack said, and tossed a fistful of paper towels to Pinkie, still struggling to keep up with the less vigorously foaming can. “Wouldn’t be as regular as patching up a barn, I’d think.” She glanced around at the sumptuous interior, then up at the vaulted ceiling. “‘Course, barns aren’t so fancy. Or remote.”
 
“True.” Rarity tipped her head to the side, then looked back up to where Twilight stood, hesitant, a few steps above her. “I never did finish with your hair,” Rarity said, catching Twilight’s hand again. “Come on down, and I’ll fix it up however you want.”
 
Fluttershy’s smile grew wider, and she winked at Twilight. “So, how are you going to fix your hair?”
 
“Um.” Me. Her. She tried to shake the conundrum from her head, but ‘bun’ stuck at the tip of her tongue, tempting her with the utilitarian simplicity of it. Old me. “B-braid.” She swallowed, and repeated in a calmer voice: “I would like a braid.”
 
Rarity didn’t even bat an eye. “You know, I think you would look wonderful with a simple braid. You’ve definitely got the length for it.” Her smile grew. “Let’s have a seat. This is going to take a while.”
 
Fluttershy reached over a photobook sitting between her and Rainbow Dash, and prodded the other girl. “You too, Rainbow.”
 
Rainbow sputtered. “What? Me? With fru-fru braids?”
 
Twilight looked down at the book as she followed Rarity past. The pages were filled with pictures of them together: at the Battle of the Bands and, later, at the encore performance on the stage in front of the entire school. Another later photo showed all seven of them lined up and singing the simple harmony of Shine Like Rainbows. Twilight’s heart swelled as the memory of the song, of singing something she’d help to write, set the spark alight.
 
Sunset Shimmer was there in the center with Twilight at her side, sharing the microphone. It had been a new, amazing experience, sharing like that. I wish she had come with us.
 
“Not fru-fru,” Fluttershy said softly, bringing Twilight back to the present. “I promise.”
 
“But...” Rainbow bundled her hair up in one smooth motion and snapped it into a ponytail, securing it with the band around her wrist. “I like it like this. Easy to get ready for a game. Fast, too. See?”
 
“Please? I promise it’s for a good reason.” Fluttershy’s eyes flicked up to Twilight and then back, eyebrows arching pointedly. When Rainbow didn’t respond, she reached up to tug the elastic band free.
 
Rainbow didn’t try to stop her, and only quirked an eyebrow.
 
Fluttershy leaned back after a moment, slipping the rainbow band around her wrist. “I’ll bake some of your favorite double apple crisper cookies!” Fluttershy winked up at Twilight as she passed, smile growing brighter.
 
Twilight blushed, averting her eyes, and let herself be guided to sit at the coffee table while Rarity settled in behind her.
 
“Fine,” Rainbow said, rolling her eyes while a smile betrayed the false grump in her voice. “I’ll let you braid my hair.” She closed the book and scooted up to the table next to Twilight. “So, you got a plan?”
 
Twilight looked around at her friends. “Maybe. It all depends on what we can contribute.” She leaned back at Rarity’s light tug. “And what Rarity’s parents are willing to continue doing.” That’s the sticking point. We need to know more. She pushed away the sour thought and tapped a finger on the table. “We can’t do this all on our own. Not unless they’re willing to help.”
 
Fluttershy looked up from separating out Rainbow’s varicolored hair into strands. “What if they don’t want to?”
 
“They might be willing,” Rarity said. Her fingers never stopped moving, straightening and smoothing down Twilight’s hair. “They have kept it so far. I just heard them talking one night while doing homework. You know, that big project we had due for Mrs. Harshwhinny’s history class? It didn’t get too heated, and I admit I didn’t hear much, but they were talking about ‘leaning up’ their finances.” She frowned. “The house came up.”
 
“That could mean anything, though,” Twilight said. “I wouldn’t jump straight to assuming that they were going to sell it.”
 
“He was definitely in full ‘we need to save more money’ mode. College is coming up for me, and my parents are insistent that I not go into debt to pay for it.” Rarity shook her head, and tugged firmly on a one of the strands. “This property was one of the things dad mentioned as a ‘legacy’ item. He didn’t sound happy about it.”
 
“Well, shoot. I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. When Granny Smith goes on about legacy, it’s always about stuff that’s stayed in the family. Usually stories, though.” Applejack frowned at her cards, drew a new one, and blinked. “Huh. It could be estate planning, too.” She frowned, glancing between her cards and Pinkie. “Granny said ma and pa left a good legacy for us. Could be that?”
 
The room was quiet for a moment. The reminder of Applejack’s parent’s deaths settled like a pall around the table, along with the insinuation about Rarity’s.
 
Her fingers stalled, trembling, on Twilight’s back.
 
“That’s not what I meant, Rares!” Applejack drummed a finger against her forehead, frowning. “How do I put this? You said your dad was a savvy business type, and this is the kinda thing he’d make sure was set straight long before it’s needed. Sure, it’s hard to think like that, but I’m sure he’s just makin’ sure if the worst does happen, y’all are taken care of.”
 
“That’s a good point,” Rarity said. Her fingers stayed still. “It would explain why they were talking about it so late at night.”
 
“Right,” Twilight said, patting Rarity’s knee. “Maybe it’s just making sure you’ve got something. A legacy.”
 
Rarity hummed softly in reply, but didn’t say anything.
 
Quiet fell around the table. Rarity’s fingers started moving again: pulling, tweaking and weaving back and forth along a braid that was getting longer and heavier against Twilight’s neck.
 
It felt good, letting Rarity pamper her hair. She looked around at her friends. Rainbow, tongue clenched between her teeth while she tapped and swiped at a game on her phone, a triumphant grin spreading the more furiously she tapped at the screen. Fluttershy, humming quietly along with Rarity while her fingers danced back and forth over Rainbow’s back, eyes lidded; she was smiling, too.
 
Applejack stared hard at Pinkie, her cards held close to her chest, but a smile played across her lips—a cocky twist curling them upwards. Pinkie stared over her cards, giggling and tapping them against lips curved into a devious grin.
 
Her friends were all smiling.
 
Twilight touched her face lightly; she was smiling, too. She was having fun doing something with her friends. “Don’t worry about it now. We’re here to enjoy the time off, right? This is a vacation.”
 
“You’re right,” Rarity said. “You are absolutely right, Twilight. This is a vacation.”
 
“And vacations are for having fun with friends,” Pinkie said, and laid out her hand.
 
Applejack smirked, laid out her cards, and claimed the pot. “That’s right! No more worryin’. Heck, even if we lose this place, we’ll still have the memories, right?”
 
“Aw come on!” Rainbow cried, holding her phone up, the screen dark. No matter how hard she waved it, the screen stayed dark. “Stupid battery!”
 
Behind her, Fluttershy coughed, and tweaked Rainbow’s almost completed braid.
 
“Oh, um…” The phone got set on the table, dark screen facing up. She tapped it, eyes flicking side to side. “Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder at the gathering gloom spreading across the beach and the badminton net. “Fun.”
 
“I’m having fun.” Fluttershy tugged the braid one final time, then slipped the elastic tie from her wrist and tied it off. “You should have brought some books, instead of just your phone. Rarity said there wasn’t any cell reception here. Or chargers.”
 
“Psh. Readin’s for—” Rainbow caught herself, glancing at Twilight, and stammered: “Ah… heh. Sorry.”
 
“Rainbow, I’m surprised at you. I would have thought you’d be a fan of action-packed books. Why, I do so love a stirring romance,” Rarity said, clucking her tongue. She paused to wrap the end of Twilight’s new braid in a tight elastic band. “All done!”
 
“You know, I brought a few books,” Twilight said, kicking a foot against her backpack. “I could lend you one.”
 
“Uh, thanks, Twi, but no thanks. I never could get into that whole reading for fun thing.” She reached up and twitched the tight bundle of her hair back and forth. Six streaks of color wound down in a tight, intricate pattern from nape to below her shoulder. “That’s pretty cool, ‘Shy. Thanks.”
 
“You’re welcome!”
 
“You should wear it in a braid more often, Rainbow. It looks neato,” Pinkie said, leaning over to pluck at the braid. “Like, what is it you said? Twenty—”
 
“Pinkie, that was just the slogan for the band. It’s not something I’d say every day.” Rainbow rolled her eyes, and flicked the bristly end of her braid against the other girl’s nose. “It is pretty cool, though.”
 
“Twenty percent cooler?” Twilight asked, a mischievous curl tweaking her smile.
 
“Ugh. Fine. Yes. The braid is ‘twenty percent cooler.’” Rainbow laughed, shaking her head.
 



 
The sun had yet to rise above the wall of the cliffs, but a golden glimmer was spreading through the branches of a tree high up on the bluff, signalling the start of morning. All around Twilight, her friends still slept. In sleeping bags laid out atop padded mats or curled up on one of the two couches.
 
Twilight fingered her braid, tucked over her shoulder and under her chin. It felt odd, and the thick braid was far shorter than her hair’s usual length. She glanced at Rainbow, sleeping on the loveseat at her back, and touched the other girl’s braid lightly.
 
She sleeps pretty deeply, Twilight thought as her fingers traced the blue streak through a tight spiral. Rainbow didn’t wake up, didn’t even move except to breathe slow and steadily.
 
And here I am, writing in my journal. I don’t know what to think, anymore. Was I really trying to act like the Twilight they first befriended? Was I acting that way last night? Was I trying to do things I would do? Or was I doing things I think she would do?
 
The night before had been a wonderful respite from the worry. Even having started as rocky as it had, a poker game had started up. The bets had been paid in premium snack foods, s’mores, and soda.
 
Twilight stared at the journal in the dim, flickering light of the dying fire and then at the fireplace. The remains of the essentials of making s’mores lay carefully repackaged and organized on the bricks.
 
Ghost stories had followed, and a night of listening to her friends one-upping each other with scarier and scarier stories had finally culminated in Pinkie Pie telling them all about the mad cupcake maker of 23 Baker Street.
 
I don’t think my story, about the librarian who stole memories with her books, went over very well. It wasn’t original. Not like Pinkie’s story. It was something my babysitter told me when we did something like this. Should I have tried to come up with something on my own? I’m worried that if I do, it’ll look like I’m trying to be her again. Do the others see it, or only Fluttershy? I certainly didn’t. I just wanted...
 
Pen tapped against paper. She knew the truth, but it hurt to think that she had so easily tried to cast aside who she was to...
 
“To be happy?”
 
Twilight startled and looked up. Rainbow Dash, curled up on the loveseat behind her, was looking over her shoulder with one eye open and braid tucked up under her cheek.
 
“Rainbow!” Twilight whispered. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
 
“Nah. You mumble when you’re thinking really hard, you know,” Rainbow said, keeping her voice low. She yawned, stretched, and draped an arm over Twilight’s shoulder.
 
“I didn’t realize. Sorry.” Closing the notebook after Rainbow must have read most of the last entry seemed pointless. “I…” She stared at the words, her cheeks burning.
 
“Eh, don’t worry about it. Least you don’t snore.”
 
Twilight risked a look over her shoulder.
 
Rainbow winked at her, and tapped the open book. “I didn’t really notice it either, y’know.” Her finger rested lightly below the drying ink. “Or, maybe I did.” She shrugged, scooting forward, and rested her cheek on Twilight’s shoulder, arm dangling to the floor.
 
“What do you mean?” The words on the page suggested a reason.Twilight knew her own reasons. Does she see something else? She closed the book on her own thoughts, tossed it on the coffee table. The sharp smack of the book landing on the table made her flinch, but a glance around said her friends were still sleeping off the s’mores and sodas. Not even Applejack was awake yet. I think.
 
Rainbow’s eyes were closed again when Twilight looked back, and her breathing had settled back down to a sleepy, tired rhythm.
 
“It’s okay,” Twilight whispered, and lifted a hand to stroke Rainbow’s hair. I’ll figure it out. She lost herself in thought and the soft, sleek hair under her fingers. Up on the cliff, the tree’s golden crown crept farther down the thin trunk.
 
“I just thought you were trying a little too hard to fit in.”
 
“Hmm?”
 
Rainbows hand came up to rest on Twilight’s. “You were doing everything you could to make us happy with you.” She pulled the hand down, squeezed it, and let go. “Makes sense, though, the way you wrote it. I can’t imagine what it musta been like, at first, for you.”
 
Twilight bit her lip. What should I do? The thought popped into her mind, along with Fluttershy’s insistence: “We want to hear what you have to say.”
 
“What?” Rainbow’s brow furrowed.
 
“What should I do?” The words felt right, hearing them aloud.
 
“Don’t sweat it.” Rainbow swung her legs around and slipped to the floor beside Twilight. “Just try to, uh…” She scratched at the back of her head. “Just be yourself, I guess.”
 
“But being myself is that. I write… it helps me think.” Twilight leaned forward and rapped a finger against the book. “I don’t know if I can be… comfortable without this.”
 
“Twi, it’s not about being comfortable all the time. Maybe…” Rainbow shrugged again. “Maybe you just need to try something outside of your comfort zone.”
 
“I want to, but—”
 
“Badminton this afternoon. You and me.”
 
“But I don’t even know how to play!”
 
“So? You’re better than you think already.” Rainbow flipped her braid. “You got rid of some drag. Aerodynamic is good.”
 
“Aero... Rainbow, that’s not how it works.”
 
Rainbow pointed to the journal. “And that is? You don’t know what to think anymore, so stop thinking. Do something.”
 
“But I don’t know the rules!”
 
“You picked up soccer pretty quick.” Rainbow’s eyes snapped open. “Uh, nevermind.”