It's Saturday afternoon and true to my word, I have been staying in bed and letting my leg rest apart from showering and grabbing breakfast. For the past couple of hours, I have been playing Civilization 5 on my laptop online with Soarin and Caramel while talking to them via headset.
"So we exchanged numbers, and then she kissed me on the cheek before she walked home," I say, finishing telling the events the date to my friends.
"Dude, that's awesome!" Soarin exclaims from the headset. "You've moved up from just asking her name. Well done, man."
"I don't know," says Caramel skeptically. "Are you sure you are okay with how she laughed at you? We know how sensitive you are with your stories."
"True, I did take it pretty hard when she did. I won't deny that," I say. "But she was sorry about it, and it sounded like we could work something out based on why she is interested in me."
"Still, that kind of sounds like a long shot," Caramel says. "But, hey, if you're happy about this thing with her so far, then I'm good with it for now."
I make a small smile at his response as I click my mouse to move my units around the map on the game. But then I frown and ask, "Hey Caramel, I know that this is probably too soon to ask, but how are you holding up about Applejack?"
For a moment, Caramel says nothing. I stop playing for a moment, worried about whether or not he will say anything. After a moment, Caramel gently answers, "It still hurts. What happened the other night haunts me, to be honest. I wanted to at least talk to her for so many years, and it looked like I was finally going to do it, but the only things I said to her were apologies, directions to my house when she took me home and yelling out the wrong name. Apart from that, I just stuttered so much that I practically was shyer than Fluttershy of all people. Fluttershy! I want to go back in time and try again and say a full sentence to her without being nervous about being so close to her."
I contemplate his words as the three of us continue playing, feeling guilty for making him try to talk to Applejack. I also remember how I was thinking of helping him out before Pinkie Pie yanked me to dance to 'try and impress the girls.' Maybe if she didn't, I would have been able to be his wingman and help him come out of his shell. Or perhaps Soarin could have aided him first before he made a move on Rainbow Dash. I hear Soarin's voice in the speakers on the headset, which snaps me out of my thoughts.
"You know, I could ask Rainbow Dash to ask her how she feels about the other night," he says. "After all, you said yourself that she was nice about it and maybe even flattered. So, maybe Dash could confirm how she felt, and we could figure out a way where you could try again."
"Do you think that could work?" Caramel asks.
"I say it's worth a try," I answer for Soarin. "If Rainbow Dash were in on this conversation, she probably would say something similar to what she told me about just going for it. Nothing wrong with trying again."
"Heh. I guess I have nothing left to lose at this point. She could give it a try," Caramel responds.
"Okay, now you sound like me," I say with a smirk.
"Meh, I can live with that for now," Caramel says jokingly.
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After a couple of hours, we finish playing Civ 5 to our heart's content. We said, "talk to you later," to each other and logged off to do whatever else we each had planned, which in my case is just staying in bed and playing a different video game. One thing you can never get enough of is the many ways to relax after putting up with five days of high school. The only downside is there's so much to do in very little time. Now that I think about it, I wonder what Octavia does on her weekends.
Right as I'm thinking about that, however, I hear my phone buzzing inside my pocket. I take it out and see that I have a text from, who else? Octavia.
"Well, speak of the lovely lady," I say to myself with a small chuckle.
I open it up and go on the messages app to read her brief text.
Octavia: Good afternoon, Rough Draft. How's the leg today?
I smile at her simple as I come up with a silly response.
Me: Oh, it's horrible! Apparently, the dodgeballs were made out of mithril, and the ball damaged my calves to the point that the muscles turned to jelly, and they had to cut it off. But the good news is I get a cool robotic leg, so epic win!
I send the text with a smirk on my face. I can only guess how she's going to respond to my joke. Thankfully, it didn't take long to find out.
Octavia: Wow. You really are a complete dork, aren't you?
Ha! She fell into my trap!
Me: Well, you had just gone on a date with the said complete dork.
Octavia: Touché :p
Me: ;) All joking aside, though, it's fine. The worst is over, so I don't need to get so worried about walking, I think.
Octavia: So you're saying that you might break your word as a gentleman and use that leg?
Me: Technically, I had to anyway. I do need to shower and get food.
Octavia: *scoffs* Typical of so-claimed gentlemen to make excuses.
Me: Yes, I am so sorry, madam. Is there any way I can make up for my actions?
At the last one, she doesn't immediately respond. Usually, I would be concerned about this, but I have a feeling she is probably thinking of some clever punishment. I went back to playing my game, waiting for her next message. After a few minutes, my phone vibrates again. I quickly pause the game, grab my phone, and opened the message.
Octavia: Well, since you are interested in falling back into my good graces, then I suggest you come to the Classical Fall Concert tomorrow night.
Hmm. Interesting choice. Punishment by falling asleep.
Me: Is that all? I don't see how falling asleep while listening to quiet music counts as a real punishment.
I turn back to my game, pleased with my comeback. I can only imagine what she was thinking with that kind of answer.
The phone vibrates, and I picked it up to find her response.
Octavia: I am performing a solo act at the concert.
Awkward.
Me: Oh. Sorry.
Octavia: It's fine. But you should know that it's a performance that I've been practicing for a couple of months and neither my parents or Vinyl are unable to come. I do want someone I know to come and watch me, so you would do well to not so much as sleep a wink while there.
I begin to feel uneasy about how careless I just was. I can imagine her saying that reply with a cold, stern sound in her voice. This is a terrible time to forget that she did mention that she is a musician. It didn't help that she confirmed that she appears to specialize in classical music. I wasn't just making a joke about falling asleep. I do think that it's a boring genre. It's mostly just string instruments, piano and trumpets to me.
And yet, she did try to become more open to my writing eventually, so it's only fair that I at least do the same with her music.
Me: Where and at what time?
***************************************************************************************************************
The next day, on Sunday night, I go to the Canterlot Music and Arts Center for Octavia's concert. As I enter the building, I feel uncomfortable standing around a crowd of people in fancy suits and dresses. I knew I should have asked my dad for help, or at least ask Octavia if there is a dress code for this thing, but I was too nervous to ask her after the way she seemed to react when we texted, so I went with clean jeans and a buttoned shirt out of hopes that it will be enough. Needless to say, that was a bad call.
On the bright side, I prepared myself not to fall asleep. I stayed in bed most of the day, and I grabbed some coffee on the way here. With all the caffeine running through my bloodstream, there is no way that I am going to so much as yawn throughout the entire night.
I enter the auditorium and gaze in awe at its size. It has a massive looking stage, hundreds of seats, and a couple of balconies on both sides. I walk up to the middle row and squeeze my way through people to get to my chair at the center. Once I'm comfortable, I take out my bulletin to look and look through until I find Octavia's name appearing halfway through the list of performances after intermission.
"Excuse me," says a snooty voice coming from my right side.
I turn to see a teenage couple sitting next to me on my left. They both have their eyes half-open, and their chins slightly held up.
"I believe you're in the wrong place," says the guy. "This is a concert for sophisticated people who respect the art of music. The little GAP store is several blocks down the road."
The girl giggles at the boy's comment.
"Oh, Jet Set, what a witty insult," she comments.
"Ah, yes, I have no idea how I do it, Upper Crust," the boy replies with pride.
Despite my slight annoyance from his 'insult,' I keep a reasonable attitude and say, "Yeah, I didn't know what the right dress code for this thing was, so I guessed."
Both of them respond with a snooty chuckle.
"You guessed? Typical lower class teenagers, wearing pitiful attire without a care," says Jet Set.
At that, I decide to ignore them, accepting that they were not worth it.
Suddenly, the lights dim, and the audience applauds softly in response. I join the clapping just in time to see a man enter the stage with a microphone in his hand. The applause dies down as he begins to speak. I don't bother paying much attention to what he said, because he mostly just greets everyone, reminds us to silence cell phones, and talking about the history of this annual concert.
After a few minutes, he finishes his speech with a 'thank you,' and the audience applauds again. The concert then begins with a woman in her 50s in a golden dress playing the violin at a fast tempo. When it ends, I think 'so far so good' as I applaud with the audience.
Maybe staying awake won't be so hard after all.
******************************************************************************************************************
*2 ½ minutes later*
I feel someone flick my nose, and I open my eyes. Jet Set is right in front of my face with a look of irritation.
"Do you mind?" he whispers loudly. "We can't pay attention with your atrocious snoring!"
After one more flick, I sit up, wide awake, and check my surroundings. I look at the stage to see a man and a woman playing the piano and the flute, respectively. I look down to see in my bulletin how far we are into the concert, but I realize that it's out of my hand. I look around for it, but it fell underneath the chairs from the next row.
I turn to Jet Set and Upper Crust and whisper, "Hey, I dropped my bulletin, do you know how close we are to intermission?"
"Intermission was over half an hour ago," Upper Crust quietly replies without turning to look at me.
Oh, no.
"Yes, you were so rudely sound asleep that the people on your left who wanted to leave had to go the other way." Jet Set adds while also not looking.
Oh, this isn't good.
"Has Octavia Melody performed yet?" I whisper worriedly.
But this time, neither of them respond.
"Please, tell me she hasn't already gone,"
Again, no reply.
"Okay, I'm sorry that I fell asleep and that I was snoring," I hiss. "I mean no disrespect. Just please tell me, did I miss Octavia!?"
My loud whisper is meet with several people in the audience shushing me. I put my hands up to everyone, expressing I'm sorry and turn back to Jet Set and Upper Crust. But before I ask again, Jet Set turns and gives me a hard glare, and I reluctantly faced forward to the stage.
I sigh heavily as I run my hands through my hair. I have no idea if I missed her performance, but my gut kept telling me that I probably did. I groan as I start to imagine the worst: the concert ends, I find Octavia at the main entrance, I tell her that I slept over her performance and she becomes enraged and slaps me hard in the face with a scream. Then she shouts that she doesn't ever want to speak to me again, and runs off before I get a chance to apologize.
I barely notice the audience applauding again with my mind away from the moment. As I half-heartedly join the clapping, I watch a small group of backstage people help move the piano away as the couple leave and another backstage person sets a small chair and stand at the center of the stage. When the couple and the backstage people are gone, and the applause dies, I look at the right side of the stage to see someone that makes my heart leap.
Thank you, Lord.
Octavia walks toward the middle of the stage, wearing a long red dress and carrying a bow and a music book in one hand, and an instrument that I've never seen before in her other hand. It looks like a violin but bigger, roughly around two-thirds of Octavia's height, but I can't say for the life of me what it is. Once she makes it to her seat, she reaches extends a long thin pin at the bottom of the instrument and places it on the floor. She places her music book on the stand and opens it before she sits down, looks around at the audience with a look of concern on her face, and lets out a sigh. Then with her eyes closed and her head up, she places the bow on the strings and begins to play.
[img]file:///C:/Users/Timothy/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image002.jpg[/img]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyAy6hxGirg&feature=emb_logo
The rough, strong notes that came out of the instrument first nearly startle me. Octavia is moving her bow back and forth rapidly as high and low notes roar all over the auditorium, but her face is calm as if she is in a peaceful trance. Then, after flicking a few strings with her bow, the notes become more mellow and played at a slower speed. Typically, this is where I lose interest and nod off again, but I keep on listening. I am intrigued by the music coming from the instrument. Something about it feels like a story is being told through this piece of music and Octavia is telling it with her instrument. After a few minutes into the song, I begin to feel that she is reaching the climax. The notes start to build up into something, but in one moment, she plays a few quick low notes, and the song ends.
The audience applauds, and I am quick to join in despite being befuddled with the ending. Without a word, Octavia stands up, takes a bow, and walks off stage with her bow, music book, and instrument.
*****************************************************************************************************************
The last dozen or so performances after Octavia go by sheet she performed. Neither of them make me fall asleep, but they also don't hook me in like she did.
Yeah, I'm biased. So what? It's my first time here, I can't stay invested in this kind of music worth a crap, and I like the pretty girl with the big, violin, thingy. Sue me.
The concert ends with the guy from the beginning saying thank you and bringing up more history about the music community, and heaven knows what else before he finishes his speech, and we all start to exit the auditorium.
I make my way to the main hall with the crowd, who are waiting for the performers to meet us. I feel nervous to see Octavia because I don't know how she is going to react over the fact that I slept through most of the concert.
I notice Jet Set and Upper Crust heading their way out. I figure that they would ignore me, but I should at least try to them.
I walk toward them and say, "Hey, Jet Set, Upper Crust."
They turn around and grumble, clearly not pleased to see me.
"What do you want?" Jet Set asks rudely.
"I just want to thank you," I say kindly. "I wouldn't have been able to watch Octavia perform if you hadn't woken me up."
"And just what makes you think we care?" Upper Crust says, uninterested.
"I just figured I should at least thank you. I don't know what I would do if I missed her," I reply.
"Well, whatever it was, you deserve it," Jet Set says bluntly. "Low-class nobodies like you are not worth the time of performers like this Octavia."
And with a huff from both of them, they walk away.
Well, they seem like lovely people.
I go back to looking around before I finally find Octavia. She is standing in the middle of the crowd, holding a large case that contains her instrument, and appears to be looking for me. I walk over to her, and she sees me before she smiles and hugs me.
"You came," she says.
"Of course, I came. I wouldn't dream of missing it," I say, smiling.
"I'm glad you did. I really appreciate it," she says before she notices my clothes and raises an eyebrow. "Though I did expect you would have a much more casual attire."
"Yeah, sorry about that," I say with my hand on the back of my head. "I didn't think of asking you what exactly was the right kind of clothing, so I guessed."
Octavia snickers as she says kindly, "You could have just asked me."
"Well, I would have, but I was a little nervous because you did sound kind of pissed at me for making fun of the whole coming-to-the-concert deal," I explain.
Her smile falters, changing to an uneasy look.
"I guess I did sound a little harsh while we were texting yesterday. But in fairness, you were rather rude," she says.
"No, I agree," I say, "But I'm glad all the same that I was able to come and watch you play your, uh, instrument."
At that, Octavia raises her eyebrow again and asks, "You have no idea what this is called, do you?"
I scratch the back of my head again and slowly say, "Yyyyyyyyyeeeeeeaaaahhhhh. As far as I can tell, it's a giant violin."
She rolls her eyes and scoffs.
"You're just like Vinyl," She says, amused. "It's called a cello.
"A cello," I say intrigued. "I'll be sure to remember that. I haven't heard of anything like it until you played it."
Octavia looks at me, confused and asks, "What do you mean?"
I look at her nervously as I reluctantly ask, "What do you mean, what do I mean?"
Octavia raises her eyebrow a third time and says, "Rough Draft, there were four other cellists before me."
D'oh! Busted!
Whatever facial expression is on my face at that moment, it is more than enough for Octavia to figure it out.
"You fell asleep." She says with a venomous glare.
For the third time, I scratch the back of my head.
"In my defense, I really did try not to. I stayed in bed most of the day and drank a lot of coffee."
But instead of responding, Octavia continues giving me the venomous glare.
"But I was awake for your performance," I protest.
Again, no response.
"I thought it was a beautiful and fascinating piece of music," I say. "Though I thought the ending was kinda abrupt?"
She glares even more and I begin to think the worst has happened until she lets out a sigh.
"Well, I suppose fair is fair," she says. "I failed to not laugh about your writing, and now you fell asleep during the concert. And you did stay awake to watch me perform, and that's the important thing."
I let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Octavia," I say sincerely.
We look at each other, smiling, not paying attention to the people around us.
After a few moments, Octavia clears her throat.
"Well, shall we be off?"
"Yes, let's go," I say, and we began our walk from the building.
****************************************************************************************
Octavia and walk in silence during the first several minutes of walking back home, enjoying each other's company as we go through town and look at the lights from the buildings and the clear night sky. We then decide to walk through the park, and on the way, I notice us passing the bench we sat on the other night and suggest that we take a break from walking and sit down there again, which Octavia agrees. We sit for a few moments before I look at her cello case, and I realize that I haven't asked how she got into playing the instrument, so I decide to try to strike a conversation.
"So, how long have you been playing the cello exactly?" I ask.
Octavia looks at me skeptically.
"Are you really interested, or are you just being polite?" She asks.
"I am interested," I say without missing a beat. "I may not know much about this kind of music, but I do know that you played beautifully."
She blushes lightly before I continue.
"And I did express what brought me into writing, so I think it's fair that you do the same."
"True, but it's a long story," Octavia says.
"I think we have plenty of time," I say. "I know it means a lot to you, and I want to know why."
She smiles before answering, "Well, it feels like I pretty much have been playing since forever, even though I've only been playing for a couple of years. My parents are famous musicians back at Manehattan, and they wanted me to find an instrument of my own to play. I liked the idea at first, but seeing that I was a little kid at the time, I found trying to find the right instrument to be incredibly dull. But then a couple of years ago, my grandfather died. I was very close with him, so like any child, I was crushed, feeling like my world was falling apart. But during the funeral, there was an old man who was a friend of my grandfather. After he said a eulogy for my grandfather, he took out a cello, and played a song next to the coffin."
"I was entranced with the way he played a sorrowful but deep melody throughout the song. It was at that moment as I watched him pour so much emotion into his music that I felt that maybe this wooden instrument is what I was meant to play."
"During the reception, I saw him in a corner with his cello, probably rooted in thought over my grandfather's death. I was nervous about approaching him, but at the same time, I wanted to ask how he knew my grandfather and how he could play such powerful music. So, I came up to him and introduced myself, and he quietly said his name was Madrigal in a broody tone. I was intimated by the way he spoke at first, but I kept my cool and asked him about how he knew my grandfather. He stayed silent for a moment before he said that he and my grandfather were in an orchestra for twenty years before he left to travel and write his own classical music while my grandfather stayed in Manehattan to continue performing at the orchestra for his family. They were not on good terms when they went their separate ways and they had only started to speak again only a couple of weeks before my grandfather died. I was confused about the idea of writing new classic-styled music since my family raised me to focus only on music that already exists, which would explain why Madrigal and my grandfather went their separate ways."
I give a brief nod of understanding, showing that I am paying attention before Octavia continues.
"Anyway, I asked him to teach me how to play the cello, and that I wanted to understand more about his work and be able to play like him. At first, he seemed ready to refuse, but then he looked deep into my eyes. I don't know for sure what it was that stopped him, but maybe he saw that I was sincere. Whatever the case, he agreed to tutor me."
"For the next couple of months, he taught me how to play the cello. I had a rough start, and he was reluctant to practice with known classic pieces as it was what I know best, but he was patient enough in the long run, probably for the sake of my grandfather. Eventually, however, Madrigal tried to teach me to make my own music, wanting to follow in his footsteps as opposed to my grandfather's. I wasn't as comfortable with starting to write my own songs, but Madrigal wasn't willing to wait. He practically forced me to try to write my own songs, but I couldn't come up with anything because I'm better at reading music than writing it. I could play improv music, but that did not satisfy him. After a while, he had enough and stopped scheduling practices. "
"As you can imagine, I was disheartened. I felt like I was so close and yet so far from being the musician I was hoping to be. I still played whenever I could, either from classical pieces or out of improv, but it didn't feel the same without Madrigal's guidance. Eventually, I would play at the school orchestra, and surprisingly was a little popular for it."
"Oh yeah? How so?" I ask.
"Well, I think it was best explained to my musical conductor who said I have more beauty and passion with my cello than most of the other members of the orchestra," Octavia answers. "And keep in mind that I was in a very high society kind of high school, so everyone had a knack for making a big deal when a student is particularly skilled at something so, for lack of a better word, fancy. I admit I enjoyed the attention for a while. Students were moved by what I played, and even some boys were showing interest in me. Apart from one guy, I didn't date any of them because they were all very stuck up and arrogant about how 'high class' they are, but at the same time, it was fun to be acknowledged by so many guys."
"Well, sure. That tends to happen when there's a girl that's pretty and talented like you," I say.
Octavia rolled her eyes before smiling sweetly for the compliment. But it only lasts a moment before her face falls and she continues her story.
"But despite all of that, a part of me felt like I was betraying Madrigal by thinking about what people thought as opposed to focusing on the music. Over time, I tried to avoid the attention and privately play music at home where I can let out whatever I feel."
"Then the day came shortly after school started this year that my parents decided to move here to Canterlot. I was ecstatic because I wanted to start over in a place where I would not be so well known, but at the same time, Manehattan was my home. But the worst came as shortly before we left when learned that Madrigal had died. I was so devastated that when we came to our new home, I spent most of my free time just staying in my room and playing. All I wanted to do was let out how depressed that my mentor and a close friend to my grandfather is gone."
"Thankfully, my parents kicked me out of the house one day to go out and look around town. That's when I met Vinyl Scratch. I was walking down the park when I bumped into her, not looking. At first, we started to fight, but after a while, we started to lower our defenses and talk about our interest in music. She took me to her place and showed me her rather ginormous room for playing dubstep music. I was irritated at her unusual taste in music, but I was starting to get into it a little with some of her...tracks I think she calls it?"
"Yeah, that's the right term," I answer.
"Heh, shows how much I still don't understand her music," she replies with a shrug. "At any rate, I won't deny that Vinyl and I don't always get along, but she has been there for me ever since I came here. She listens whenever I talk about my time in Manehattan and about my passion for playing the cello, and while I'm hardly a fan of her music, we have reached an understanding between our respective genres. It's been a trying process, but Vinyl as proven to be very laid back and caring. She also has been there to help me make new friends from school. Honestly, I feel more at home with my new friends than I ever really did at Manehattan."
For a moment, we sit in silence before Octavia scoffs.
"Oh, listen to me, going from how long I've been playing the cello to telling you practically my life's story," she says.
"Oh no, it's fine. I like learning more about you," I state.
"Oh, you are far too kind, Rough Draft," She says plainly.
I say with a playful scoff, "Too kind? I don't know the meaning of the phrase."
She rolls her eyes at my response with a chuckle.
"You know you are a really silly person, right?" She says.
I shrug before I say in response.
"I have my moments, I suppose," I reply.
She chuckles again before she smiles with her deep, violet eyes staring at me. I smile back as my green eyes stare at her in response.
**********************************************************************************************************************
After a while, we go back to walking to her house, telling a few more stories along the way. While we enter her driveway, she is laughing out loud at my story about my attempt to join the Battle of the Bands with Caramel and Soarin.
"A-are you serious?!" She asks, barely controlling her laughter.
"Sure am," I state proudly. "When The Dazzlings manipulated all of us to have a Battle of the Bands, Caramel, Soarin, and I were quick to form our awesome band: Revan and the Soaring Revanites. We named it to show our love for the most awesome character in the Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic games; Revan. Caramel was on the drums, Soarin was on his guitar, and I was the singer with my new Revan costume, mask and everything."
"Oh my word, you were that band with the singer wearing that dorky outfit!" Octavia exclaims.
"Hey!" I exclaim back. "That is the outfit of the Star Wars character who is like Batman if he was a force user that was a Jedi, then had his will bent so that he became a Sith but became a Jedi again, was twice as passionate in stopping evil, and was more powerful than most force users in the Star Wars universe. Not to mention, he has the most epic mask ever!"
"I hate to break it to you, Rough Draft, but that mask covered your whole face and kept everyone from having any idea what you were singing," Octavia says in between laughs. "You three were probably too focused on your so- performance to notice how everyone was laughing at you. Why else do you think you guys failed the audition?"
I shrug in response before I proudly say, "Whatever, I got a Revan outfit out of competing in the Battle of the Bands, and it was the best 200 bucks I ever spent."
Octavia snickers at my proud declaration.
"That's...nice," she says with all the self-control she could muster.
We make it to her front porch, where we take a moment to look at each other in silence before I take Octavia's hand and kiss it.
"Until next time, my dear lady," I say in my best attempt in impersonating her accent.
She giggles before she pecks me on the cheek and says, "Until next time good sir," before she enters her house, and I begin my way home.
As I walked back to my house, I kept thinking about along the way was Octavia's concert and our talk. Just like the other night, I head straight for my room the moment I enter my house. I plummet to my bed, enjoying its comfiness before I eventually sit up and take out my laptop. I open a browser to go on the popular media website known as MyStable and check notifications and looked at people's recent status updates.
But suddenly, an instant message from Caramel pops up.
Caramel: DUDE, WHERE THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN!?!? I'VE BEEN TEXTING YOU ALL NIGHT!!!!
I'm surprised at his apparent outburst and check my phone, realizing that I had it off the whole time because of the concert.
Me: Sorry, dude, I had my phone off. What's up?
Caramel: You mean you haven't heard the news?
Me: No, I don't think I have.
It takes a couple of minutes before he responds, saying, "You have to see this." With a link attached to the message. I open the link hesitantly, unsure of what in the world Caramel would be so worked up about. The browser opens another tab, revealing a newscast article, and my eyes widen.
A GROUP OF GIRLS CALLED THE DAZZLINGS HAVE BEEN ARRESTED FOR VANDALIZING CANTERLOT HIGH SCHOOL