A Diamond in the Rough: Chapter 4
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After the creation of our secret hoofshake, I discovered how it felt to be friends with someone, and it felt beautiful. I also thought, maybe, I could get more assertive in school, and express myself in other ways aside from answering questions.
Anyway, after a brisk walk, I opened the door to the mansion, only to find it was completely barren. I called for the butlers, but they were all gone too! It was scary, but I managed to calm down quickly and do the sensible thing; call my dad. I got a signal.
"Dad, it's me, Diamond. Where the heck are you?"
"Diamond Tiara? Didn't I tell you I had a very important business meeting today?"
"No, but…"
"I can't talk with you. I'll be home very late, so make sure you control yourself. Goodbye."
And, just like that, I lost him. A wave of loneliness swept over me, but then I realized I had let it dominate me for my entire life. So, I decided to combat the loneliness by reading one of the business books on my bookshelf. I knew my parents wanted me to go into business even before they got divorced, so I might as well discover why.
Of course, it would have helped if I actually knew what any of the words meant back then. Stocks? Aggregation? Buying in bulk? They should have called it "The Gibberish Book!" Business was much more difficult than I thought! No wonder I live in one of the richest families in Ponyville!
So, after taking some time to do my small amount of homework and play my saxophone, I saw only one other thing I could do. I walked over to the dance studio, and fortunately, by the time I got back, it was my bedtime! Happy and content, I drifted off to sleep.
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The rest of kindergarten was relatively uneventful. My assertive lessons worked great for Silver Spoon, I managed to ace all of my classes, and we graduated, feeling like Equestria was our oyster.
Also, I should probably explain the education system here. There is only one elementary, middle, and high school in the entirety of Ponyville, and ponies are assigned to one teacher out of three per grade, who teaches all of their subjects. Apparently, there would be times when ponies would switch teachers, but that never happened to me.
Getting back to business, literally, I never really got the chance to ask dad to go over my questions about the absurdly confusing books I read until the summer, since at that time, I wasn't busy with school. In fact, I was able to ask him earlier on than I thought!
"Dad, the books on my bookcase are really confusing. Could you explain them?" I asked.
"Which ones, Diamond?"
"The ones about business. I couldn't even get passed the first ten pages without having my head blow up!"
He gave me a warm smile. "I'd be more than happy to go over them with you, Diamond."
We walked to my room, I pointed out the book that I read, and he meticulously went over them, but related the concepts to things I could understand. Heck, he even related stocks to the mood of a pony!
He would say, "Stocks are exactly like talking to ponies. If you talk to somepony in a good mood, their mood will get better, and so will yours. If you talk to somepony in a bad mood, both their and your moods will plummet."
It was a great bonding experience, which was immediately followed by a loud knock on our door. I ran to the door, opened it, only to find my good mood accelerating.
"Grandpa!" I said, leaping out to give him a hug.
"Diamond! It's so nice to see you! How has kindergarten been for my favorite daughter?"
"It's been great, Grandpa! How have you been?"
"Just fine, those Zap Apples are growing like crazy! Can't wait to sell them!"
I couldn't believe Stinkin' Rich, my great-grandfather, after the horrific divorce, was coming over just to say hello to us. I never knew my actual grandfather or grandmother, because I think they died from some disease before I was born. Well, my father's parents, at least. I also think that Dad told me my mother's parents died in a big war. But, I loved Stinkin', probably even more than my dad, because he really treated me like I was special. I felt so glad that at least one pony could see what I saw.
About a minute later, my dad saw him. "It's wonderful to see you. How have the Zap Apples been?"
"We've got a great deal of them this year. How has Diamond been? Have you been treating her well?"
"I'd say so. I just taught her some business lessons."
"That's great news. I know she's going to be a vital part in our business. Make sure you keep the lessons steady."
"Understood. Is this all the time you have?"
"Unfortunately, it is. I'm sorry I have to leave so soon."
When I heard of the bad news, I said, "Do you really have to go Grandpa?"
"I wish I didn't, but Barnyard Bargain's isn't going to run itself."
"Bye, Grandpa. I'll miss you…"
"Don't worry, I'll come back soon, OK?" he said, then after a quick peck on my cheek, he closed the door.
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After my great-grandpa's visit, the summer seemed to go by a lot quicker, and I learned a lot about business from my dad. However, there was one particular point that he always seemed to focus on.
That point was, "The number one rule in business is to not let your feelings influence your decisions in the slightest. I'm not saying that you should apply this rule to life, but you have to apply it to business if you want to succeed."
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When the summer ended, school was back in session. I told Silver Spoon about some of the business skills I learned, but she didn't seem to be interested in it. That didn't really faze me though, since I was initially bored by it too.
We walked and talked about our summer together, until we reached our first grade classroom. Our teacher was a former actor known as Mrs. Bright, with a dull yellow body and a blond mane. I liked her instantly. She was a very good teacher in our normal subjects, but by far my favorite subject was drama.
It was a little tough convincing Silver Spoon to give drama a try, because she was still relatively shy. But, I gave her pointers, and she managed to stick it through with me for the entire school year.
One of my favorite parts about drama had to be the hand gestures she taught us.
"Now, class, when you have finished with your performance, there is a certain way to handle the applause the audience gives you. Follow me, please. First, you put your dominant hoof directly above your head, like this!" she would say with enthusiasm.
We mimicked her. "Good! Next, we make a downward half circle with that hoof, and bow, like this!"
All of a sudden, another student, a unicorn with a pale body and white and purple curls raised her hoof.
"Um, aren't females supposed to curtsy?" she asked.
"Where did you get that idea from?"
"My sister Rarity told me!"
"I'm afraid that isn't how it works in drama. Now, class, please follow me."
Again, we followed, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I've seen that unicorn before.
We quickly finished, giving her the sign to continue. "Finally, you point your hoof at the other members who helped your play become successful, hold one pony's right hand with your left, hold another pony's left hand with your right, and bow again. Try to do it more than once if the applause is loud enough. Now, then, let's practice. Ready, Set, Go!"
With that signal, we practiced a few times until we were able to do it successfully.
Through this drama class, I was able to realize I had a natural stage presence, and I sought ways I could get on the actual school stage. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find a way before a tragedy swept over my life.
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Towards the end of first grade, my dad said that he was going to take me to Stinkin' Rich's place for a business event.
However, when we got to his mansion, about the same size as ours, I saw him slumped on the ground.
He wasn't moving, and he had no pulse.
He was dead.
I was very, very heartbroken, and I had to spend I week at home recovering from the pure stress I experienced from that event, and at the funeral, which my dad insisted I come to.
It was the first time I disagreed with one of his decisions.
I couldn't believe the pony who I loved was dead, and I couldn't even talk to him after he left on that fateful day. But, through it all, my dad comforted me, taught me, and allowed me to dance and play my saxophone before I was mentally able to go back to school.
I told Silver Spoon. "That's horrible, Diamond! I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" was her reaction, and I did feel her sympathizing for me.
"No, Spoon. I've recovered, and I feel more determined than ever to learn about business and to make him proud. I know that I'm special, and I'm going to prove it to him!"
"Diamond, you just give off so much confidence. I'm really lucky to have a friend like you."
I gave a sincere smile to Silver Spoon that seemed to make the after effects of the tragedy float away.
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Next summer, after I aced all of my classes in first grade, even receiving a 100% in drama, I felt obligated to get on the stage. While Mrs. Rhythm and her dance classes really couldn't help me too much, Mr. Blues said that I had progressed far enough to participate in a recital. Once he told me a recital was where people get on stage to play the music they learned in their lessons, I got hooked. While my father was unable to make it, I practiced heavily for the big event, and managed to get a great applause for playing, what was for my skill level, a decently challenging song with only one minor mistake.
My recital allowed me to go into second grade brimming with confidence, and a new desire to make my great-grandfather proud of me. Sadly, while I did like my teacher, Mrs. Stone, a rather elderly lady with a gray body and a white mane, the subjects began to increase in difficulty.
However, by far, my least favorite subject was history. It was boring, stupid, and the worst part was it was an absolute pain to prepare for the tests. Early on in the year, I got a 70% on a history test, and got my first B ever during the first semester of history.
Needless to say, I was crushed. Even Silver Spoon seemed to be noticing the upward spiral of challenge, and barely managed to pass the first semester with all A's!
To add, at the beginning of the second semester, Silver Spoon brought up an interesting topic.
"Hey Diamond, have you noticed that most adult ponies have these weird marks on their flanks?" she asked.
"Yes, I did. I think they're called cutie marks. Do you know anything about them?"
"It looks like they help ponies perform cool stuff, like I once saw a pony with a construction cutie mark who created a floor of a fairly large house in only one day!"
"Wow! That's awesome! I wonder if we can get them!"
"I'm sure we can! According to my mom, anypony can get a cutie mark, and it's something that is triggered by something we do from our hearts!"
"That sounds awesome! Let's try to get our cutie marks soon!"
"Alright, bye Diamond! Bump, bump, sugar lump, rump!"
Also, during that semester, the workload seemed to die down, and I was getting A's again. But, even though my grades were good, I ran headfirst into a brick wall; an after school problem that seemed to destroy the connection I had with my father.
That problem came in the form of bullies.
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Towards the middle of the second semester, an absurdly huge black pony with a checkered white and black mane, who I later found out was called Black Flag approached us as we were walking home from school.
After closing some of the distance between us, he said to Spoon, "Hey, Four Eyes! Why don't you suck on your glasses just like it was your pacifier? You big baby!"
"I'…m not a b-b-baby."
I had to protect my best friend, so I screamed, "Leave her alone!"
"Oooooh. The prissy little pink pony is going to stand up for her retard friend. Why don't I take you two down a notch!"
He then proceeded to beat the living crap out of me and Silver Spoon.
As he laughed at us, I felt an inner rage being channeled through me. I really didn't know what happened next, until I realized he was vomiting blood.
After a minute, I put all of the pieces together. You see, one of the things I liked to do to make me look pretty would be to file my hooves with a diamond filer. Once I realized that, I came to the conclusion that I had punched him. Hard.
In a panic, I called the Ponyville Emergency Committee, and told them about the incident. 5 minutes later, an ambulance took him to the hospital.
I was almost afraid to check, but my right hoof did have blood on it. I wasn't looking forward to explaining this to dad…
Silver Spoon probably thanked me, but I was too busy running home to wash my hooves before my dad could look at them.
That…didn't happen.
Instead, my dad caught me, and I explained the entire situation to him.
Even after I claimed it was self-defense three times, his response was, "Diamond, you're grounded. For a week."
"What? Why?"
"Because you need to take this as a lesson to control your temper. You can't run a business if you don't have a cool head."
"I did it in self-defense! Read my lips, dad!"
"Diamond, my decision is final."
"Fine. But during that week, don't expect me to talk to you!"
I stomped up the stairs, shut, and locked my door. I couldn't believe my own father disagreed with my assertive behavior. He disagreed…with who I thought I was as a pony. Well, I intended to live my life as an assertive individual, and if it takes me protesting his actions to tell him that…so be it.
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Next Chapter: Diamond goes through one week of silence at her home, and tries to reconcile with her mother. Diamond and Silver also make efforts towards getting their cutie marks. Will she treat Diamond better than Diamond believes her father does and who will get their mark first? Find out, next time!