//------------------------------// // Lucky Stars vs. Foxglove - Winner: Foxglove (by Vote) // Story: OC Slamjam - Round One // by OC Slamjam //------------------------------// New Lesson - by Lucky Stars' Author "I don't wanna be tootored," Figgy pouted as she sat at the wooden table, staring at the paper before her. Her father— Foxglove— sat next to her, his brown eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry Figgy, but do you want to end up like Daddy?" he said, pressing his hoof on the clear black 'F' beside 'Math'. She curled her lip and mimicked Daddy's face. "I. don't. want. a. tootor." Foxglove's face fell into his hooves. He rubbed and pinched at the bridge of his muzzle several times before bringing his forelegs back down, allowing his eyes to meet those of his daughter. "Ms. Stars will be here any minute now," he said, leaning in toward her, "You will be nice to her. You will not give her a hard time." He paused. "What will you do?" Before she could have answered, both of their ears were drawn to the knocking of the door. "She's here," he said as he got up, "Be nice." Figgy ignored him as he approached the door, which was only several meters away. She pushed the paper down the table and plopped her chin on its wooden surface. Through her left ear, she heard the door open and some voices. "Good afternoon Foxglove." "You too. Come on in. She's at the table." Ms. Stars and Foxglove trotted to the table to notice the filly crunched forward, the table serving as the only thing holding her up. Ms. Stars's eyes were drawn to her and her mind began contemplating a response. "Hello," she said, perking up a smile, "You must be Figgy," she then sat down in the chair next to her. Figgy's eyes glanced at Ms. Stars but her face remained frozen. Ms. Stars sat there, though, never lost her reassuring grin and waited for an answer from her friend. The result of the two ponies' behaviors was a long, agonizing silence. The air that had previously been swirling in motion had slowed to a cruise. "Answer the question," Foxglove said as he leered at Figgy with his cold lavender eyes. "Foxglove," Ms. Stars said, "it's not good to yell at her." "I didn't ask for your thoughts." Figgy stared at her father, who was beside her. His bold, stern stare penetrated her mind, leaving her with a burning feeling in her mind. Moving her head proved to be difficult but she managed to turn her head away from him and toward Ms. Stars, whose calm face and smile extinguished much of those sensations. The muscles in her own face relaxed and mirror those of the one sitting before her. "Yes..." she said while holding a straight face "I am Figgy." "I'm really glad to meet you, Figgy. My name is Lucky and I'm going to be helping you with math," she then extended her hoof out toward the filly, "I think we can be really good friends. What do you think about that?" Figgy looked at the white hoof before her, raised her own, and gripped it. She smiled as the warm feeling touched her for the first time. "I'm your friend now," Figgy said as she wrapped her other hoof around Lucky's, "and you're my tootor now." Lucky's smile widened. "Very well. Shall we get started?" she asked her. Figgy nodded her head. Afterward, Lucky looked to her left and saw the piece of paper on the table. She picked it up and flipped it over to reveal a blank side. Lucky gave Figgy a look before placing the paper before her blank side up. "Okay then," Lucky said. She then pulled out a pencil and placed it in her mouth. She went over to the paper and wrote "3+5" on it. Upon finishing, she opened her jaw, allowing the pencil to rest on the table. "Can you tell me what that is?" Lucky asked her. Figgy's eyes narrowed and focused exclusively on the numbers that were written by her new friend. She tried to string together bits and pieces of the things she heard at school but nothing made for a tangible solution; the teacher's words were gibberish and the homework was little more than coloring sheets. "No," Figgy finally said. Her entire face tensed up and her eyes became clouded with worry. But Lucky's disposition never faltered for even a moment. "That's okay," she said. She placed her hoof on the pencil and held it directly over the paper, "I can help you." Using the pencil, Lucky wrote down the numbers one through ten on the left end of the paper. Beside each of them, she drew a series of tiny circles whose quantity was equal to the number it was next to. "Now these are some numbers we use in math. Have you seen them before?" Thoughts of her teacher writing down numbers on the chalkboard struck a chord with Figgy. In response, she nodded her head. "Yes," she said, "I know one," she then pointed to its marking on the paper, "two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten." "Good," Lucky said, "now let's add them," she hovered her hoof over the number three, "now it looks like the question wants us to take three and do something with five. It wants us to add them because," she then moved her hoof over to the sign between the three and the five, "there is a plus sign between the two of them," she then looked at a concentrating Figgy, "so how do we add them?" "I don't know," Figgy answered, "I took a test on it and I didn't know how to do it. That's why Daddy is having you come here." "Well it's very simple," Lucky said, "you put three and five together so," she then wrote down three dots, "One, two, three, plus five: one, two, three, four, five." Lucky placed down the pencil and looked at the row of eight circles. "Now how many is that?" she asked. Figgy looked at the line of dots before her and counted up from one. Lucky couldn't help but notice how concentrated Figgy was at counting all of them; her brows were furrowed and her hooves were pressed against the table. "Eight?" she said, looking up at her. Lucky gave her a smile and said "That's right." Figgy mirrored that exact grin on her tutor's face and looked down at the sheet. After looking at all of the numbers and the circles again, she looked back up at Lucky. "Do you want to do another one?" Lucky asked. Figgy jolted her head up and down until she was certain her head would come off. To Lucky, such joy was as blissful as the sun on a summer day. "Have we finished up for the day?" Foxglove asked Lucky. "I believe we have," she said as she gave him a look. After a moment, she turned to Figgy. "Well," she said, "I have to leave now." Figgy's face, which was mostly encompassed by a grin, took a hit. Although it wasn't enough to completely destroy it, the change was particularly noticeable. "Will you be coming back?" she asked. Lucky, noticing the filly's concern, placed a hoof on her shoulder. "Yes, I will see you every Wednesday. We can have more fun then." "I would..." Foxglove said. His face was merely blank at this point, "thank you for helping her today." "You're very welcome," Lucky answered, "Figgy is just wonderful." Lucky walked to the door, turned its knob, and swung it open. As she was about to walk through it, she turned to Figgy. "Goodbye, Figgy!" "Bye Lucky!" she exclaimed, waving her hoof in her air. She smiled once more before moving through the doorway and shutting it behind her. As he heard the click, Foxglove turned to her. "Figgy," he said, "there's something very special waiting for you in your room." Figgy's eyes widened as her mind ran through the endless possibilities. Among them included dolls, play sets, and— now— paper and penicls. "What is it?" she asked. "Well let's go see," he said as he started walking to her bedroom. Much like the main door, it was a short ways away. Foxglove went ahead and opened the door for her. Upon having the doorway cleared, she dashed into her room. On her bed was a small green doll: a unicorn dressed in a white coat and hat— which had a red cross sewn on it. Figgy believed that if her lips stretched any further, they would have froze in that very position. "The new Polly Pony doll! Now she's a nurse!" "Yep," he replied as a smile of his own painted itself on his face. Figgy grabbed the doll from the bed and carried it over to the other side of the room. On the window sill were several other dolls that looked identical aside from the clothing. One of them wore a pink dress and a tiara, another wore a trench coat and a fedora, and the other sported a purple sweater. Figgy placed the nurse beside them. "Hi, everypony," she said, "meet Polly Nurse. I think you'll really get to like her. Did I tell you about the new friend I made today?" Little Toy Train - by Foxglove's Author Eight hooves echoed off twin brick walls that encased the world in a narrow corridor between buildings. The figures walked, briskly – the one ahead swathed in a dark cloak to match the night skies; the former with a dark ponytail swaying as she kept pace. All it took were three words for the two to stop walking. “I saw you,” the young mare said, shakily, less of accusation and more of an affirmation for her own benefit. The stallion in the cloak skidded to a stop over uneven blue cobblestones, drenching them in silence for the barest of moments, the low hum of the crowd on the main streets unable to penetrate this far down the alleyway. The lights danced, shadows cast, their world a duotone kaleidoscope where streetlamps on either end were blocked out by passersby. The stallion turned. He looked, up and down, gave the mare his regard for the first serious time in their walk from the toy store to this location. The stallion took his time to observe her, and in his stillness the mare could see a pale grey face poking out from behind his defenses. His colours were remarkably similar to hers, with coats of whites and manes of darks. She could feel him try to read her, as his eyes ran over her little suit shirt and dress tie. But they pulled away. Perhaps he had given up. Perhaps he had found all he was looking for. Ultimately, though, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she had seen him. “Ya saw me, did ya?” the stallion said, thick and rough, as he raised his brow. “What of, then?” “The toy.” She breathed in. “I saw you take it from the shop. You sneaked it under your cloak. You left without paying.” The response warranted another look from the stallion, up and down, up and down. “Brave lass,” he muttered, tilting his head to the side, speaking in short guttural bursts. “Earth mare chasin’ down a mean old unicorn stallion like meself.” “No, listen.” She took a step back, just in case. “I wanted to talk. That’s all. But I will scream, if you give me reason to. I will scream, and others will come running.” “A threat?” “A scenario.” She breathed out, her chest quietly quivering to itself. “One that we need not approach if… if we don’t need to.” “Mmm,” the stallion grunted, his head nodding up and down in some sort of understanding. “W-what?” the mare spurted out. “I’ll say again, lass. Brave.” The stallion flicked his head at her with indication. “A bit daft, maybe, but let me understand what ya want, yeah?” “I want to talk. That’s all.” “Right. And I got no interest in that, so say I choose t’ walk. And if I do this, then...?” “Then I shall scream, and ponies will come in from either side. You will have no place to run, and you will be caught by the police.” The stallion flicked his head to the side once more, while the mare stood firm, straight, upright. “Mmm,” he grunted once more. “Right, for this, then.” His cloak flew aside and a small wooden train flew out from behind the folds of cloth, enveloped in a small swathe of magic, moving carefully towards the point between him and her. He stepped forward. She stepped back. The little toy train, polished and lacquered, of the finest craft, complete with a painted red steam tower and intricate detail on the doors and windows, came with a tiny little carved acorn that stood in as a driver of sorts. Carried along in a cloud of dull grey, the toy was deposited unceremoniously on its side upon the dry cobblestone. The stallion’s horn stopped glowing a moment after. “Right. So. Fair’s fair,” the stallion said, coughing. “Ya caught me, eh. But I’d like to be on me way now, so if ya wanna scream go ahead and scream.” The mare dropped her jaw, raising it again soon after, as if it would have betrayed the obvious confusion on her face. “But… aren’t you worried about being caught?” she blurted out. “Caught doing what?” “Stea–” “Lissen, lass. I’m jus’ an honest stallion makin’ my way. I saw a lady much like yerself steal a toy train from that store, an’ I followed her to this alley. That train right there.” the stallion nodded toward it. “You know, the one that dropped in th’ struggle when I tried to do my duty to apprehend a thief. Of course, the lady screamed, but it was only natural, innit?” “But… that…” “D’ya see? It’s yer word against mine, eh?” “But they’ll never believe you,” the mare whispered, more shocked than anything else at the oddness of the situation. “Well, if ya really think so, you ought ta get shoutin’ soon, aye?” The stallion shrugged. “But just like you, I don’t want the hassle. So, beggin’ yer pardon, but I think I’ll go now.” “But don’t you… want this?” She looked at the train. “Would be nice, yeah? But you got me at a bit of a… you know. Whatever this is.” The stallion waved his hoof back and forth between them. “So why don’t we both just call it even and be on our way? Now, you have yerself a good night, ey?” He turned. Not a moment passed before he began walking to the other end of the alley. And once the corner was turned, he would be gone. The mare stood, lower lip shaking as much as her breath was unsteady, her lungs ready to react to a decision that she had to make. She watched as the figure walked, step by step, sure and steady in his gait, and reminded herself of how unsure her footing was in this predicament. But her brow furrowed as she reminded herself of the reason she had even decided to embark on this foolhardy confrontation in the first place. There was always a good way out. She yelled. But it wasn’t a call for help, nor a cause for alarm. It was merely a raising of the voice, just so that he could hear. “I-It’s for your daughter, isn’t it?” she called out, words unsteady, unsure. His gait slowed. “It’s a gift!” she continued. “Perhaps for a… a celebration, or as a reward? Maybe some occasion? M-must be for someone close. A son or daughter, then!” The stallion stepped back quickly, closing the gap. This time, the mare did not move from her place, allowing her voice to fill the gaps in her courage. “It’s a lovely gift, really. But these toys, they’re so outrageously priced, aren’t they? I mean… they do make for wonderful presents. I can’t really blame you for wanting one so badly. You must really love whomever it is… you’re…” The rattling stopped when she realised that she was speaking mostly to the floor. She peeked up a little, catching glimpse of the stallion who was standing there as he was before, across from her, with the little toy train between. A bit further and she saw his expression that was caught between bemusement and pity. “Ya done?” he asked, softly, not a trickle of anger or impatience felt in his tone. “Yes. I’m sorry,” she replied. “So, I’m now thinkin’ that you’re quite wrong up there.” The stallion tapped his temple. “Maybe.” “Why d’ya want to provoke me for, lady? Is that a good idea? Piss off a thief?” “Yeah… that wouldn’t be a good idea, but I thought… I thought we could just have a–” “ – a talk. Right,” the stallion finished. “Ah… yes. And you’re right. It would probably be a bad idea to upset a criminal, but I didn’t think… that is to say… I don’t think you’re a thief.” “Right. So you think the bloke you… caught… stealing… from a shop isn’t a thief.” The stallion rolled his hoof through the air. “Yes. Well, no. Not when you put it that way! But… oh. Listen. Please. Just give me a few minutes. That’s all I ask. I know. It’s strange. It’s an odd request. But I just want to…” the mare held her hoof up to her head. “Yeah?” “I want to help.” “With?” “With the toy.” The stallion stood and stared. “With why you took it,” the mare clarified. “With… your situation.” The stallion stared. The crowd passed by on the outskirts, none the wiser. “Ah… Um… Well. Let’s be civil. My name is Lucky Sta–” “Didn’t ask.” “Um… and you are?” The stallion continued to stare, as it were his duty. “R-right. Well. The reason why I decided to follow you was because I did notice something quite off, as it were.” Lucky tapped her hoof against the side of her head. “See, why does anyone steal?” The stallion waited patiently. “Well, there are many reasons, of course, but… but it’s… well, you have theft for necessity, right? Or for pure want, or curiosity, or boredom, or… whatever you have. But one thing’s quite the same, and it’s aways that the thief usually steals for him or herself.” The stallion blinked, face devoid of any other reaction. “But well. This… this toy. It’s for somepony else, isn’t it? You’re not stealing for your own benefit. At least, not directly. Surely this must be a gift, and that–” “Wot, I can’t just like trains?” The stallion frowned, the first time he showed any sign of upset. “Well… no, but…” “And what if I was tryin’ t’ impress someone with a gift? What if I was stealin’ this to bribe someone? Means to an end, right? Still selfish, innit?” “Well…” the mare started feeling a knot bunch up in her stomach. “You said your name was ‘Lucky’, eh?” The stallion said with an ounce of frustration. She nodded slightly. “Yeah. You are.” The stallion breathed out with due heaviness. “But…” “No buts, ye daft quince!” he continued his voice raising ever louder. “If I was anyone else, d’ya know what might happen to ya? D’ya know how much pain ye’d be in? The sorts of things ponies get up to these days?” Lucky Stars shifted her eyes down. “And all because you say you want to ‘help’?” “That’s not untrue!” Lucky shot in. “Oh, really. Listen, lass, you don’t expect me to believe that, do ye? You got some angle, and trust me when I’m sayin’ that I’m only sticking around to make sure you ain’t gonna be some future pain up my ar–” “It’s true!” The stallion rolled his eyes, throwing his head back. “And in what universe do ye think we live in that ponies just help other ponies for th’ sake of it?” “I do. Me.” Lucky growled, demanding her truth be heard. The stallion stopped, his expression blank. “And that’s all it took then, aye?” he asked. “For ye to start gallivanting after thieves despite the wholesome idiocy of it all?” “I guess so.” He sighed. He gave his best breath. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Listen,” he said. “I’m sure ye know what I’m gunna say, but I’m gunna say it anyhows. My problems are my own business. I don’t want help, I don’t need help, and you sure as anythin’ ain’t the one who can help me. There are a hundred thieves in this city, and I ain’t any different than the rest of ‘em. You don’t know my story. You don’t know nothin’, and I ain’t about to tell you none.” “I’m not asking for your story.” “Then what is all this about, lass? You’re tryin’ me, you know?” “Well, I believe that I can help. All I’m asking is that you let me take a chance.” “And where is this belief comin’ from?” The stallion gasped, exasperated. “Well, as you said. If it were anyone else… who knows. But I’m alive and well. And all this… all that we did, you just wanted to end it. Never wanted to take advantage. You got angry that I might have been hurt. I don’t see this sort of thing if you weren’t any sort of good pony, mister.” The stallions eyebrows dropped backward. “Listen…” “And… look, I’m not saying I know your story. I’m not saying that you have to tell me now in this alley. I just want to have a chance to talk to you and learn. Maybe… maybe somehow convince you that there’s something that can be done.” “Listen, now…” “I don’t know you at all. But when I feel there’s someone who can be helped. I never sit and let them pass.” “Look.” The stallion sighed again, a longer, more wistful one this time. “I’m sorry, lass. I just don’t live in that world. Thank ye, really, for tryin’, but you’d just be wastin’ time on me.” He stared at the ground. “I’m sorry,” he said, and turned. He stopped for a while, but made to move. A voice called from behind. “Hey.” The stallion turned back. “You forgot this.” Lucky Stars was standing there, a little toy train sitting neatly in her upturned leg. “What? Listen, lady, if you think charity–” “No. You stole it, right? But you didn’t steal it from the toy shop. You stole it from me.” The stallion shook his head. “What?” “If all you care about is the theft, then steal it from me. I’ll go back and buy this. I’ll explain it to the shop owner. It was my error. I forgot to pay. I’m going to leave this train here in this alley no matter what, and I’m going to pay for it no matter what. So if you don’t steal it from me, it’ll just lay here until someone else comes and takes it.” “Are you… absolutely off your rocker?” “Maybe. But what does it matter to you? You’re just a thief.” “And who in Equestria are you?” “I’m just a teacher from the local high school.” “Figures.” The stallion frowned. “So, are you going to take it or not?” Lucky held the train forward. For a while, the stallion stood there, staring at it as if it were a bright hot star. Moments passed. Lucky kept her stand. Finally, with an utterance of an angry mutt, the stallion snatched the toy, returning it to the folds of his cloak. He turned away instantly, beating a path to the edge of the alley. And Lucky waited. Halfway down, the stallion stopped, looking back. “Hey. Lucky whatever from the local school, right?” “Right!” she called back. “Name’s Foxglove.” And then he was gone. Lucky smiled, a little, standing in the middle of the dark alley. She was hopeful that she would see him again.