//------------------------------// // 1. Cookies // Story: Pinkie Pie Swear // by Annuska //------------------------------// The ringing of the store bell wasn’t a novel sound. It was almost mundane, despite the automatic response it elicited from the shop’s novice baker to turn around from whatever task she was present at and smile widely with a cheerful "Hello!". Though her overseeing mentors-slash-managers preferred a slightly more formal "Welcome to Sugarcube Corner," the apprentice-slash-employee found her own greeting to be much more friendly and personal. She’d never been much of one for strict formalities, anyway. Maybe the bell was a bit of a formality, too, hence the almost mundaneness. Once, she had proposed having a technically-minded friend set up a speaker system that played an assortment of short, upbeat song clips whenever the door opened, or rigging up her own confetti-throwing mechanism to go off as soon as the door swung past the threshold, but the shop’s owners gently suggested she save those ideas for one of her creative parties, instead. So the ringing wasn’t anything new; it wasn’t particularly interesting, even though she loved getting customers, and it wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary. Even swinging around to the front of the counter to find three unfamiliar faces entering the shop wasn’t all that noteworthy, even though she loved meeting new people. But it would stick with her, anyway. True to routine – which was partially actual routine and partially the routine of changing up the routine – Pinkie Pie spun around, stuck the pencil she had been using to inventory behind her ear, flipped her clipboard up in the air, grabbed the shop’s tablet, caught her clipboard, hung it on the wall, and slid a finger across the tablet’s screen as she beamed widely at the new customers—only one of which approached the counter. The other two hung back, seating themselves on the sofa nearest the door. Also nothing too strange, and yet— “Hey-a!” Pinkie waved at the solitary girl. “What can I get’cha?” It took the girl a moment to respond, pulling light blue hair back from either side of her face, eyes searching the menu board carefully before finally settling back on Pinkie. She let go of her hair and leaned forward, grasping onto the counter with her hands turned down, and as she did so, a glint of light brought to Pinkie’s attention the pretty necklace the girl was wearing; a simple black ribbon to which a dazzling red gem was affixed as a pendant. “Three milk teas.” Pinkie nodded dutifully, tapping away at the tablet’s touch screen. “Is that all?” “Yes,” the girl said as if she really meant no, and then added, as if she had been asked to explain, “we have to get going, like, now.” “Y’know what’s peeerfeect for being in a hurry? Our cookie bags! They’re a new recipe I whipped up, toootalllyy different from any other bakery’s cookie you’ve ever had, guaranteed! They’re super soft, melt-in-your-mouth delicious, and already pre-packaged for on-the-go snacking!” The girl hesitated, reaching a hand behind her to tussle her long, high ponytail before glancing back at the two girls she had come with, both of whom shook their heads at her. Pinkie noticed. The girl turned back and shook her own head. “Well, here, I’ll get you all rung up and – ohmigosh, I just remembered, we’re having a special! Three drinks gets you a small bag of cookies free. No charge!” It was a little white lie, but she felt bad for the girl. “Really?” The girl pulled her hand out of her ponytail and brightened considerably, shuffling some things around in her bag before producing a couple bills. “Thanks!” The experience was nothing out of the ordinary; she’d often given free treats to customers who looked like they could use a little cheering up, never worrying about what it took from her own pay. It was a perfectly normal, routine, mundane transaction, but it left Pinkie feeling lighter the rest of the day – significant for being so naturally buoyant on her own. ·✫✫✫· And maybe she would have forgotten about it within a week or two, if not for the girl returning exactly seven days later at exactly the same time. “Oh, hey!” Pinkie exclaimed upon spinning around to see her blue-haired friend again, sans the girl’s two friends. Instead of flipping her (presently absent) clipboard, Pinkie juggled a few tea mugs between her hands, tossing one after another up into the air before catching them and setting them out one after another. “Good to see you again!” The girl giggled slightly at Pinkie’s lively antics. “Those cookies were really good,” she said, rapping her fingers across the counter lightly as she perused the display case of cakes. Though she wore a different (and equally stylish!, Pinkie noted) outfit than the week before, the red gem still hung around her neck. “I like, couldn’t stop thinking about them!” “And they’re great with the milk tea, right?” “Yeah!” She paused a moment, leaned closer to the case, and then stood back up straight. “Can I try the strawberry shortcake today?” “Great choice! Tea again, too?” “Yeah!” “Got’cha!” Pinkie nodded and winked – and decided she would throw in another cookie just because. ·✫✫✫· Within a few weeks, Pinkie could perfectly time the exact moment on a Friday afternoon that the shop bell would ring to announce the blue-haired girl’s entrance, and with true Pavlovian reflexes, Pinkie would drop whatever it was she was doing in that exact moment to greet her. Pinkie was never able to catch the girl’s name, though; the girl never paid with anything but exact change, always insisted on standing by the pickup counter to wait for her order, and their chats were often so fast-paced and ended so quickly that Pinkie would forget the strict formalities of asking about things such as— well— names. Even so, their short conversations told Pinkie more than she knew about most other semi-regular customers. Pinkie learned that the other two girls who had accompanied the blue-haired girl that first day were long-time friends of hers (and not much for sweets – unlike her), but the three of them were often quarrelsome with one another; she really loved singing, but declined to perform in front of Pinkie for fear of distracting her, as she had been told she had an enchanting voice; she and her two friends were between places at the moment, and had recently arrived in the city, but had plans in the works that they were hopeful about. Of course, Pinkie told the girl about her own friends, and how their own friendships hadn’t always been the best until very recently; they had put together a band, themselves, though she was drummer and only on back up as far as vocals went; she’d been living in Canterlot since middle school, but before then, had been somewhere much more rural and remote. And no matter what the girl ordered on any given Friday, Pinkie would always slip a spare cookie into her bag, and the girl would always reach into the bag and pull it out before punching her straw into her drink or unwrapping her confectionery of the day. The gesture was simple, but enough to make Pinkie smile long after her shift was over. ·✫✫✫· “Y’know, we should hang out sometime.” The girl lifted her cerise eyes upward mid-cookie-bite, and Pinkie had to hold a hand over her mouth to try and keep herself from giggling at how cute it was. It didn’t work; she giggled anyway. Swallowing down hard, the girl wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Like . . . not here?” “’Course not, silly! We always talk here. I’m not sure it counts as hanging out.” Pinkie looked up at the ceiling, tapping a finger against the side of her cheek before bolting upright. “Wait! I have the best idea!” “Hmm?” “It’s a surprise! You like surprises, don’t you? Well, I mean, who doesn’t like surprises? Pfft. But you’ll have to wait to see what it is. And meet me here tomorrow night, six PM sharp!” After some brief hesitation, the girl agreed, hair bouncing around her face as she nodded. “Great! Ohmigosh, I’m so excited! Oh, and, dress warm! And don’t worry about money! And—oh! Heh. What’s your name?” “Huh? You mean I never told you?” The girl looked at Pinkie a moment. “Sonata.” “Nice to formally meet you, Sonata! I’m Pinkie Pie!” “I know.” Sonata lifted her free hand and tapped the name tag affixed just below Pinkie’s right shoulder. “You always have this on.” “Ohh.” Pinkie giggled. “Right.”