How long had it been since he had first laid eye on her? Would she ever feel the same for him? And more importantly, if he did form a relationship with her, what were the chances of it working out? Those were just some of the many questions playing on his mind as he gazed longingly across the school yard, watching the yellow-furred filly chatting eagerly with her circle of friends who called themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders.
And rather aptly so, he considered; even now that they were in their teens, none of them had yet gained those defining features on their flanks that symbolised their talents, their personalities, their destinies. For them, every day was like a quest to find their true calling in life, one that they would approach with initiative, creativity, but most of all determination. That was what he admired about her – okay, so perhaps she may have been a bit overzealous at times, but even after years of failing to help others gain their Cutie Marks, and probably even longer without gaining her own, she refused to give up that quest until she had reached her goal.
That she lacked a Cutie Mark, however, often made him feel a deep sense of guilt over his own. It was bad enough that he had nearly ruined her reputation once, and then wholly against his will; but it just felt so unfair to him that he should have something she had been after for so long, something she had been working so hard to get. Whenever he caught a glimpse of her bare flanks, he couldn't help but curse himself for having gained it so soon...
A voice from immediately next to him broke his train of thought; “You okay, Featherweight? You've hardly said a word since class.”
The off-white Pegasus looked up towards the taller and more substantial Earth pony colt standing by his side. “Eh what?” he asked blankly in his soft, lisping tone.
“I said are you okay?” The colt raised his eyebrow. “You don't exactly seem with it today, Feathers. What's up?”
Featherweight sighed wistfully. “Sorry, Shady Daze,” he murmured. “I was just thinking about Apple Bloom again is all.”
Shady Daze gave a wry smile. “That's all you've been thinking about for the last few weeks, bud. All month long, it's been Apple Bloom this and Apple Bloom that – don't you think it's about time you started acting on your feelings rather than brooding over why you're not the right pony for her?”
“Well what if I'm not?” protested Featherweight pathetically. “She hardly ever seems to notice me for a start. Besides, just look at me – thirteen years old, and I'm still just a scrawny little stick pony!”
“So what? Just because you haven't got much meat on you doesn't make you an eyesore. You never know – she might think you pretty cute.”
“Not as cute as that other Pegasus colt I know nothing about,” mumbled Featherweight.
“What, Chip Mint?!” Shady Daze began to laugh. “Ah, pull the other three, Feathers – there's no way he wants to be with Apple Bloom of all fillies! He's way too scared of her!”
“What do you mean?”
“I don't know what it is he doesn't like about her – lack of a Cutie Mark, imposing stature or what – he just finds that filly so intimidating it's untrue,” continued Shady Daze. “I mean, yeah, he's been thinking of giving the whole dating thing a go lately, but it's Cotton Cloudy who's caught his attention, not Apple Bloom. Sooner or later, she's gonna have to find that out, and when she does...” He didn't finish, but simply shifted his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
But Featherweight still didn't seem convinced. “Yeah, and even then I probably wouldn't be the first on her list after that.”
“As if!” retorted Shady Daze. “Remember the whole Gabby Gums scandal back when we were a few years younger?”
“I remember alright – I remember that I was the one who took those photographs that Diamond Tiara used to blackmail her and Sweetie-Belle and Scootaloo.”
“True – but who was it that did the right thing and told Miss Cheerilee on her about the whole fiasco?”
Featherweight opened his mouth to reply, but anything he had to say was instantly cut off by the memory of what happened that day...
Since Namby Pamby had graduated and been replaced by Diamond Tiara as editor-in-chief of the Foal Free Press, things had become rather stressful for Featherweight. He had been the press' staff photographer for months before then, and up till now, he had enjoyed it a great deal; but with his new boss demanding better stories, he had had to work twice as hard to document anything and everything that was happening in Ponyville, not least because of the introduction of the Gabby Gums Gossip Column into the newspaper.
Featherweight sighed heavily as he began focussing his camera for the umpteenth time that day, unable to decide which was worse – his increased workload or the fact that he now had a power-mad bully as his editor. Diamond Tiara had always been the mean sort, but having been charged with such an important role, she seemed to have gone from petty and prissy to sharp and demanding. The stories on which she kept insisting weren't much better either; every last one seemed to read like a heavily exaggerated tabloid article, almost as if it were a mere rumour!
The Gabby Gums articles were by far and away the most libellous of these stories. Written by Apple Bloom, Sweetie-Belle and Scootaloo, they mainly centred around other ponies' private lives, frequently revealing embarrassing secrets about them. Featherweight had never liked the Gabby Gums column, and had tried to talk some sense into Diamond Tiara about prying into other ponies' business; but the pink-furred filly refused to hear him out.
“Need I remind you, feather brain, that I am the editor-in-chief, and I decide what stories go into the Foal Free Press!” she had told him. “Now get out and get me more photos – unless you yourself want to be part of the next Gabby Gums article!”
Such a threat coming from Diamond Tiara was too much for the scrawny little Pegasus colt, and after that, he resolved to refrain from ever bringing it up again. But how long could he keep it up for, he wondered? He was already beginning to suffer after all those long hours of keeping watch for a suitable new story, and he could tell the Cutie Mark Crusaders weren't enjoying it either. If only there was something he could do about it...
“AHA!! Just the pony I wanted to see!”
Featherweight spun round, startled. His railway enthusiast friend Locomotion stood immediately behind him with a grim look on his face, clutching a copy of the Foal Free Press newspaper. “Oh...hey there, Loco,” he stammered. “What's up?”
“I'll tell you what's up,” replied Locomotion. “Apparently, this week's Gabby Gums column features some cock and bull story that my uncle Steamer and I have ambitions to be tramps one day! It even shows us inside that old coach we were looking through last week – and if I remember correctly,” he added sternly, “you're still the staff photographer, right?”
“Uh...yeah...I can explain...” began Featherweight; but Locomotion didn't wait to hear what he had to say.
“You do realise he was only showing me the sort of thing that they do in the carriage works?” he asked in an accusing tone.
“Loco, please, I didn't want any part in this!” blustered Featherweight. “I only did it because she forced me to!”
“Yeah, I'm sure you did – and let me...” Locomotion stopped, visibly perplexed. “Hang on, who forced you to do what?”
“Diamond Tiara,” replied Featherweight unhappily. “She's been made editor-in-chief of the Foal Free Press now, and she's been forcing me and the rest of us to come up with what she thinks are better stories. On top of that, she made me document everything that's going on in Ponyville.”
Locomotion raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Diamond Tiara, eh? I might have known she'd be behind all this!” he muttered. He then turned back to the younger Pegasus; “Right, well...sorry I was so harsh with you, Feathers. I guess I just got a bit carried away when I saw that article.”
Featherweight stared at his hooves with shame. “I wouldn't blame you,” he admitted. “With the sort of stories we've been ordered to publish, the whole town could start complaining about the Foal Free Press. Only thing is, I don't think any of us can do anything about it.”
“Why not?”
“I did try to talk her out of it,” said Featherweight gravely, “but she threatened to write some embarrassing article about me if I squealed. She even blackmailed Apple Bloom, Sweetie-Belle and Scootaloo when they asked to quit.”
The red-furred unicorn colt blinked. “Those three? I thought she'd be glad to get shot of them.”
“Normally, yes, but...” Featherweight checked left and right to make sure nopony else was listening, and then he leaned forward to whisper into Locomotion's ear. “It was them who came up with the Gabby Gums column.”
“What?!” burst out Locomotion in shock. “You mean they've been willingly...”
“Well, at first, yes,” interrupted Featherweight, “but even they decided they'd had enough. Matter of fact, they tried to quit earlier today, but Diamond Tiara blackmailed them with some of my photographs.”
“Oh, she did, did she?!” exclaimed Locomotion sharply. “Well, I'll give her something to blackmail soon enough!” At that moment, his face lit up. “Hang about, Feathers – you said you were told to document everything?”
“Uh...yeah?”
“Absolutely everything?”
Featherweight nodded in reply; but then his eyes widened in sudden realisation. “Wait a minute – I've just remembered something!”
“What have you remembered?”
“I took a photograph of those three while they were confronting Diamond Tiara this morning,” explained Featherweight. “I think I even managed to get a snapshot of the pictures she was using as her leverage; she said she'd publish them if they quit.”
Locomotion smirked broadly and stomped a decisive hoof. “Right!” he announced. “We'll soon stop that nonsense! You go and develop that photograph...if you have it, that is...and we'll show it to Miss Cheerilee first thing tomorrow. That'll teach Diamond Tiara to abuse her authority!”
“Will do, but what about Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie-Belle?”
Locomotion cocked his head. “What about them?”
Featherweight frowned. “Nopony seems to be speaking to them. Everypony in Ponyville knows that they're the ones behind the Gabby Gums article, and...well...” but in his guilt, he couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence.
“So they've already had their names tarnished, eh?” Locomotion sighed heavily. “Not meaning to sound pessimistic, Feathers, but I don't really see what we can do about that. Still,” he went on hopefully, “I'm sure it'll sort itself out in the end – but in the meantime, we have more important things to consider.”
“More important?!” repeated Featherweight, aghast. “But Loco, these are some of our friends we're talking about!”
“Then why are we sitting around and brooding over them?!” stated Locomotion firmly. “We can't help them unless we spill the beans – and we certainly can't spill the beans without that photo!” and with that, he trotted away towards home, leaving Featherweight alone with his thoughts.
Featherweight could hardly sleep that night. He had been all through town that day, looking for enough subject material to humour Diamond Tiara's thirst for juicy libel until her cover was blown; and every other place he came to, there were the Cutie Mark Crusaders being chastised by some random pony or other for being so hurtful and intrusive. Every time he saw them, the shame and sorrow in the three fillies' faces was so plain and obvious to the scrawny young colt that it made his heart bleed. Even now, as he lay restless beneath his bedclothes, seeking sleep in vain, their woeful expressions kept flashing in his mind, while Locomotion's words played over and over like a faulty record player;
“...I don't really see what we can do about that......we can't help them unless we spill the beans...”
Letting a small tear loose, Featherweight solemnly sat up and began to ponder. He knew Locomotion was right – indeed, he had already gone to his local print studio to have his photographs developed, but he still wished there was something more he could do to restore the Crusaders' image.
“Can't help them unless we spill the beans, he says,” he muttered sadly. “We could have at least tried, Loco.”
He slowly climbed out of bed and plodded towards the window. Slowly pulling back the curtain, he could see a soft light emanating from one of the groves of nearby Sweet Apple Acres – if memory served him, it was in the midst of that very grove where the Cutie Mark Crusaders' clubhouse was to be found. Clearly, he realised, they must have gone into hiding there until they could find their own way of escaping the rut they had gotten themselves into.
This was the final straw for Featherweight. No longer could he simply sit around and wait for dawn to break – he simply had to do something for those three fillies! Quietly, cautiously, he crept into the hallway and listened carefully. Sure enough, soft snoring from behind the door immediately opposite his own told him that his parents were sound asleep, and so, taking care not to make too much noise, he opened up his bedroom window and took off towards the orchard...