“Ugh!” Scootaloo cried out. “How many potatoes does this place go through in one day?”
Scootaloo’s morning outburst in the mess hall had not gone unnoticed and she was subsequently given kitchen duty that afternoon in preparation for dinner. She was surrounded by three piles: a small mountain of unpeeled potatoes, a comparatively pitiful pile of peeled ones, and the many, many peelings. Thankfully, she didn’t have to do this daunting task alone since Blue Yonder was also with her. Even though she didn’t have to, Scootaloo’s wing-leader had volunteered to help out.
“Oh, just you wait until we have to clean all the trays later,” Blue Yonder smirked. “I swear some of these ponies don’t know how to eat their food.”
Scootaloo was about to respond when the potato she was peeling slipped out of her hoof and fell into the peeling pile. Groaning, she fished it back out, wiped it off and finished peeling it. Scootaloo looked up and noticed that Blue Yonder was faring far better than she was. Blue Yonder’s pile of peeled potatoes was twice as large and she had little trouble hanging on to the slippery spuds.
“How did you get so good at this?” Scootaloo asked.
Blue Yonder shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve had to do a lot of kitchen duty this past month.” She held up the half-peeled potato in her hoof. “To be honest, when I first did it, I was a lot worse than you. I couldn’t hold on to these things to save my life.”
Both mares chuckled for a moment before falling silent again. They continued working, Scootaloo finishing one potato for every two of her companion’s. Before long, Blue Yonder looked back up.
“Listen,” she said hesitatingly. “I’m really sorry about yesterday. I don’t know how I could have been—”
“It’s all right; I get it,” Scootaloo interrupted. “Silverwings told me the whole thing. If anything, I’m sorry for being so angry with you.”
Blue Yonder’s ears drooped downwards. “I kind of deserved it though.”
“Not like that,” Scootaloo rebutted. “Listen, how about we just move on from the whole thing and start fresh?”
Blue Yonder bit her lip uncertainly. “Sure.”
“Good, and it looks like we’re finally done with these spuds,” Scootaloo said, tossing her last potato into the pile. Just then, the cook walked in with a large sack and dumped even more potatoes right next to them, grabbed their peeled ones and walked out. “OH COME ON?!”
The rest of the afternoon was filled with more grueling work in food preparation, serving and cleaning. Scootaloo soon realized what Blue Yonder meant about cleaning the trays. Not only were there dozens upon dozens of them, but most weren’t even properly emptied and many were practically glued together with mashed potatoes.
“Could it at least hurt them to scrape off what they don’t eat?” Scootaloo complained after pulling a couple of trays apart, rewarding her with some potatoes splashed onto her face.
Blue Yonder sighed as she started scrubbing. “I tried to tell ponies that, but some of them just continue to eat like pigs.”
Scootaloo simply gritted her teeth and continued to clean the trays. According to her, the only upside was that they didn’t have to deal with any of the other cadets when they ate in the kitchens, but it wasn’t exactly the brightest silver lining.
Finally, once evening was settling in, they finished their kitchen duty and immediately hit the showers. Then they headed for the barracks for a long-awaited rest. When they finally arrived, Scootaloo threw her towel onto her bed in frustration.
“Looks like you had fun in the kitchens, eh?” Aurora said coyly.
“If I see another potato ever again, it will be too soon,” Scootaloo said through gritted teeth.
Aurora shifted slightly out of the corner of Scootaloo’s eye, but she couldn’t tell what the aqua-green mare was doing.
“You seem tense,” Aurora commented. “You need to wind down a bit.”
Scootaloo closed her eyes and laughed. She turned her head to face Aurora. “I don’t think anything short of pulverizing some trays will help—”
Scootaloo was interrupted by getting hit full in the face with a pillow. She opened her eyes to see the smug look on Aurora’s face.
“Bet you can’t hit me,” she said playfully.
Scootaloo looked down to the pillow—which had landed near Blue Yonder’s hooves. Sharing a nod with her companion, she turned back to face Aurora and grinned evilly.
“Oh, it is on!”
The remainder of the evening was filled with laughter in the barracks as they commenced in their three-way pillow fight. Once the five-minute warning call came, they ended their battle and got into their beds in time for lights-out. Having wound down a little, Scootaloo fell asleep almost instantly—waiting for the day ahead.
***
Spitfire was looking at several files spread out over her desk. Once the argument between Scootaloo, Hot Shot and a few of the other cadets came to her knowledge earlier that day she had done nothing but study their files—pausing only for meal and bathroom breaks. Yet despite her efforts, she was still no closer to figuring out what to do about it.
A gentle knocking came from the door, at which Spitfire called the pony to enter.
“You wanted to see me, Spitz,” Soarin said, entering the office. He often ditched formalities, especially if they were alone.
“Yes,” Spitfire said, rubbing her face. “What’s your opinion on these cadets?”
Soarin looked at the files on the desk and realized that they were all of the cadets he was in charge of.
“Well, they’re all hard workers in their own right.” Soarin then picked up the files for Blue Yonder and Hot Shot. “Although these two have been at each other’s throats. The rest either take sides or ignore the issue completely and focus on their own thing.”
“And that seems to be the problem,” Spitfire stated. “This hatred is driving them apart.”
“Well you can’t force ponies to like each other.”
Spitfire sighed. “I know, but I need them to work as a team, not as individual units.”
“How do we do that then when we already try to teach them teamwork?”
It was a fair question, Spitfire had to admit. They already had every cadet work drills, obstacles and flight exercises together throughout the entire academy. They even had them do flight demonstrations in multiple companionships. How were they supposed to do something else on the academy grounds they didn’t do already?
Then, all of a sudden, an idea came to Spitfire. “We could have them leave the academy,” she said quietly.
Soarin raised an eyebrow at this. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You know, like a survival training exercise—or rather a field trip,” Spitfire explained. “They’re used to what they do here, so why not have them go out for a few days under supervision? Hopefully, they’ll get to know each other better and work together.”
“Okay,” Soarin nodded tentatively. “So do you want me to supervise them, or one of our other trainers?”
The smile on Spitfire’s face faded as she slumped back into her seat. “That’s another problem. They know how we all generally work here, so they’ll just behave the same way. We need to get somepony else that they don’t have experience with.”
“But all the other Wonderbolts have received the same training we did,” Soarin stated. “How will getting somepony else make a difference?”
“It’s not about the training, but rather the personality. We need somepony they’re not expecting—one who can throw them through a loop.” Spitfire sighed in resignation until a certain picture caught her eye. A smile slowly crept onto her face. “And I think I know just the pony.”
Soarin’s look of confusion instantly changed into one of concern. “Surly you don’t mean…”
“Oh yes I do.” Spitfire rummaged through a portion of the filing cabinet marked “R-S” and pulled out a file. “It’s time to call her up.”