//------------------------------//
// 8 - The Banner 
// Story: Pride of the Apples 
// by LightningSword 
//------------------------------//

 “What?” Pinkie asked, sounding affronted and dejected at the same time.  “But AJ, I thought everypony was having fun—”
 
“Didn’t ya hear me, Pinkie?” Applejack scolded.  “I said ‘the party’s over’! It’s time to leave, now!”
 
Most of their words could still be heard over Calvados’ shrill cries.  He was still jerking around and pounding the floor with his hooves.  Apple Bloom, still trying to hold onto him, was being shaken and jarred left and right, her eyes frantic and her grip slowly weakening.
 
“Cal, come on!” she yelped, trying to contain the colt’s sudden temper.  “What’s wrong with ya?! I never seen ya act like this! Please calm down!”
 
Applejack stepped up towards her younger siblings, separating them and taking over for Apple Bloom.  She wrapped her longer, stronger forelegs around Cal and began rocking with him as he shrieked and jerked around.  “Shh, shh, calm down, sugarcube,” she whispered in his ear, even though nopony could hear her.  “Shh, shh, calm down. It’s all right. It’s all right . . . .”
 
Cal’s cries lowered in volume, and his shaking lessened, but still it remained.  Applejack persisted, though.  She held him tightly and continued to rock him and whisper to him calmly.  It was difficult to tell whose face held the most agony.
 
Mr. and Mrs. Cake glanced at one another, both with anxious expressions.  “Umm . . . I think Applejack is right, honey bun,” Mr. Cake said.
 
“Hmm . . . I suppose you’re right,” she replied.  She turned to the rest of the party-goers.  “Everypony, I think it’s time to leave. We’ll be closing up, soon.”
 
The remaining attendees glanced around at each other, a mixture of awkwardness and apprehension now drowning the entire room.  Eventually, Berry Punch was the first to move, filling a cup full of punch and downing it in one gulp before slipping towards the door and out of Sugarcube Corner.
 
“Uhh . . .” Lyra mumbled, “I . . . guess I’d better see if Bon-Bon needs anything . . . .”  And with that, she was the next to leave.  On her way to the door, she took regular, fretted glances at the two distressed Apples rocking together on the floor.
 
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo approached their third Crusader solemnly.  “Um, Apple Bloom?” Sweetie Belle said to her calmly, almost whispering it.  “Is there . . . is there anything we can do?”
 
Apple Bloom’s eyes were blank, almost stupefied, as she stared at her elder siblings on the floor.  She slowly shook her head, but did nothing else.  Not a single sound escaped her throat.
 
“You sure?” Scootaloo asked.  Again, Apple Bloom’s sole response was a wordless negative.  The silence seemed to spread amongst the three of them, and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo spoke no more as they carefully made their way away from their friend and out the door.
 
A few feet away from the struggling Cal and the whispering Applejack, Pinkie sat on the floor, staring with a look not dissimilar to Apple Bloom’s.  Her eyes, however, were swimming in tears, and her mane and tail had become limp, straight, and lifeless.  “I . . .” she tried to speak, but Applejack merely glanced at her, burning into her with an enraged glare.  Pinkie was silenced instantly, and she sniffed as she stood, walked to the staircase, and ascended.        Her wide-eyed, teary gaze remained locked on the floor the entire time.
 
Cal was almost silent by now, in a room now only occupied by himself and his two sisters.  Even the Cakes had stepped away; they’d both gone to the kitchen to give the Apples their much-needed privacy.  Aside from the occasional loud squeal and the accompanying slam of his hooves on the floor, Cal was silent in his elder sister’s forelimbs.  Both of them breathed heavily, one in exhaustion and the other in frustration.  The awkwardness in the room had drained away, and was replaced with a powerful melancholy.
 
“B-Big Sis?” Apple Bloom struggled to speak at last.  “What . . . what’s wrong with him?”
 
Applejack did not respond.  She held her brother tightly, pressed her cheek against the top of his head, and continued rocking.  Her hat had fallen off long before.  The whole scene had finally unlocked an ordeal from the past she had struggled to repress her entire life; against her will, it returned to her head full-force, and the guilt that had crippled her all week now had a fully-formed source.
 
A tear slid down Applejack’s face and sank into Cal’s mane as she held him.
 



 
All she did was take back her doll.
 
Applejack saw the results of her grievous mistake.  The young filly could hardly believe a foal that size could knock over a dresser, break a lamp, and put a hole in the wall all in the space of ten minutes.  At first, she was just annoyed by his screaming.  Then, she was shocked at his naughty behavior.  But once he started to break things, Applejack became scared enough to hide in her bedroom for as long as it took for the tantrum to end.  She didn’t know what to do or how to stop him, and was afraid he would destroy the whole house unless he got what he wanted.
 
Then, her mother had stepped in and defused the situation; despite being pregnant with Applejack’s youngest sibling (the sex was still unknown), she had taken care of it with the care and finesse of a seasoned veteran of child-rearing.  Wrapping her forelimbs around her littlest colt, she held him tightly and rocked with him as they both sat on the floor.  Within seconds, Cal’s screaming had ceased, he had stopped pounding his hooves on the floor, and had even slipped into a peaceful slumber.
 
Calvados’ rage was over.  For now.
 
Applejack stood in the living room with her mother and her sleeping brother as they both continued to rock soothingly on the floor.  Her mind was a jumbled mess, and she consciously made the effort to keep from crying.  At the same time, seeing the damage that Cal’s outburst had caused provided her unwillingly with a sense of helpless confusion.  She didn’t like it.
 
She didn’t like it at all.
 
“Mama?” the young filly asked.  “What’s wrong with him . . . ?”
 
“Don’t you fret, honey,” their mother assured her.  “Cal is just different. He handles things differently.”
 
“But,” Applejack argued, “he was naughty. He took my dolly, and he threw a fit when I took it back. You always say that Apples don’t raise no naughty foals.”
 
“He wasn’t tryin’ to be naughty, Applejack. He learns differently. He sees differently. And he reacts differently. It’s all a part of his condition.”
 
Applejack found herself growing indignant at this.  She and Big McIntosh had done naughty things in the past; at best, they’d get a stern talking to, and at worst, they’d get spanked.  But her youngest brother gets neither of these, nor anything in between, and is instead rocked to sleep like it’s bedtime?  This made no sense at all.
 
“But Mama, that ain’t fair!” she complained, her voice shaking with her growing rage.  “Big Mac and me were taught that we can’t do naughty things! How come Cal ain’t taught that?!”
 
“Applejack, I’ve told you. Cal learns differently.”
 
“Well, can’t you teach him diff’rently?”
 
“Nopony really knows how, honey. I just have to do the best I can. Me and your daddy and your Granny Smith all have to do our best.”
 
“Well that ain’t good enough! Cal can’t do wrong and get away with it—”
 
“Applejack!”  Her mother was firm and unyielding; she wasn’t as loud as Applejack was getting, but she was loud enough to be heard without waking Calvados.  “This discussion is over.”
 
“But Mama!”
 
“I said it and I meant it, young filly. End of discussion.”
 
Applejack’s insides boiled with resentment.  Tears bubbled over and slid down her cheeks, but her face was anything but sad.  It contorted with the frustrated anger she was now about to unleash.
 
“No!” she screamed.  “He’s just—”
 



 
No! Applejack asserted in her own mind, stopping the flashback with all her mental effort.  That was different! I was just a filly! It was wrong then, and it’s wrong now! I won’t believe all that about my baby brother! I won’t! I won’t do it!!
 
By now, Cal had finally relaxed, and was no longer making noises.  He made the occasional jerking motion, but he responded to nothing else.  Applejack only went on holding him as if he were the most precious thing in the world to her.  As painful as it was to admit, Applejack didn’t feel that way as strongly as she felt she should have.
 
Now, the guilt was being replaced with shame.
 
“Uhh, Applejack?” Apple Bloom finally spoke again, but much quieter.  “You want any help with Cal?”
 
“No,” her sister replied instantly.  “No, it’s okay. Just go on home, Apple Bloom. Cal and I will be right with ya.”
 
“Are . . . are ya sure?”
 
“Just go!” Applejack snapped without meaning to.  “I mean, just go on home, sugarcube. We’ll be right there, okay?”
 
Apple Bloom frowned, hesitated, but complied.  She turned and trudged toward the door of Sugarcube Corner, opened it, and stepped out.  She took one last glance at her sister and brother before closing the door behind her.
 
And so the only two ponies remaining were Applejack and Calvados.  The former hesitated herself before getting up to leave, but it felt appropriate to wait a bit longer.  Whether this was because of Cal’s volatile emotions or because of her own oppressing her, she couldn’t tell.
 



 
“Oooh, that stuck-up, arrogant, mouthy little blank-flank! Just who does he think he is, talking back to me that way! Laughing at me! Mocking me! My father will hear about this!”
 
Outside, as the townsponies set up for tomorrow’s Equestrian Eclipse Celebration, Diamond Tiara paced back and forth in front of a merchandise stall.  Silver Spoon had been listening to her fuming rant for the last twenty minutes, and was starting to get bored.
 
“Well, if you hadn’t messed with him, he wouldn’t have said any of that stuff,” Silver Spoon reasoned.
 
“Oh, what do you know?!” Diamond Tiara snarled.  “That big-mouthed doofus of a colt just needs some manners taught to him! That’s no way to treat an elite like me!”
 
Silver Spoon pouted and turned away.  This was getting ridiculous.  This happened every time she had something decent to say.  I’m getting a little tired of this drama, she thought spitefully.
 
“I’ll show him . . . .” Diamond Tiara continued to sulk.  “I will show him . . . ERGH!”  Finally, out of frustration, she kicked a wooden post on the stall they stood beside with her back legs, and both fillies were surprised to see the post fall off the stall and topple over.
 
From behind the stall, a gray Pegasus mare with crossed eyes and a hammer in her mouth hovered upwards, seeing her stall fall apart.  “What happened?” she mumbled past the hammer.
 
At this question, the two rich fillies could only tremble and grin sheepishly.
 
The wooden post fell to the ground, slamming into a table on the way.  A seesaw effect sent a flower pot on the table flying through the air several feet.  At another table, Golden Harvest was sitting down to a glass of ice water; the pot landed on her table and knocked her water over.  At the same time, Lyra and Bon-Bon, having reunited, were pitching in to help with the Eclipse setup; Lyra used her magic to lift a large stuffed pony as a prize for one of the game stands.  As she passed by Golden’s table, the upended ice water splashed her from behind, soaking her rear in freezing cold water.  She yelped and jumped, accidentally sending the large toy flying backwards through the air and towards an unsuspecting Alicorn and dragon . . .
 



 
“I knew I shouldn’t have told Pinkie Pie about this,” Twilight lamented as she and Spike walked through town, checking up on the Eclipse Celebration setup.  “I knew she’d try to do too much. Now Cal could have a serious episode at any moment. He’ll get overstimulated, and he’ll freak out and start—”
 
“Whoa, whoa, Twilight!” Spike interrupted, calming her.  “Look, Pinkie will figure it out eventually. She’s not stupid. I mean, is it really worth getting upset over?”
 
“Yes, Spike,” she replied uneasily.  “It is. You see, Cal handles his emotions differently from other ponies. Autistic ponies like to be on a schedule, or are comfortable with a cause-and-effect pattern that’s constant. If something happens to disrupt that pattern, they get agitated, overly emotional, and in some cases, even violent.”
 
“Violent?” Spike replied.  “You mean he could hurt somepony?”
 
“I’m not sure, Spike. And it might not happen, so it might not be that big of a deal. But Applejack has seen it before. I know she has. That’s why I’m sure she feels ashamed of—”
 
“LOOK OUT!”
 
Spike’s scream interrupted her, and it was followed by the sudden feeling of being pushed to the ground.  Spike had dove into her and sent her spilling to the ground just in time to avoid some large fluffy projectile that had almost hit her from the sky.
 
Instead, it hit Spike.
 
The falling object landed on Spike and knocked him to the ground.  The heavy thing pressed down on Spike’s stomach, making him belch out a jet of green flames into the sky.  “Ooohhh . . .” he moaned in a daze.  “No free refills . . . .”
 
“Oh, my gosh, Spike!” Twilight cried, getting up from the ground to help him.  It was only now that she was able to see that the object was a large pony plushie, bigger than her.  She lifted the large stuffed toy off of Spike with her magic.  “Are you okay? Say something!”
 
Spike slowly pulled himself up off his back and sat up on the ground, clutching his head and his stomach in equal discomfort.  “Uuugh . . . did anyone get the license number on that thing?” he quipped, sounding a bit woozy.  Shaking his head quickly, he brought himself together, but caught a sight in the air above him.  “Oh, no!”
 
“What, what is it?!” Twilight panicked, looking around.  Turning to the direction Spike stared in, she saw it—the gorgeous blue “ECLIPSE CELEBRATION” banner that had been stretched over town for the last week had caught fire, as a result of Spike’s run-in with the flying doll.  The flames already spread quickly, staring from the ornate circular pattern cut from the space in the middle of the “C” in “CELEBRATION”, and spreading across the artwork so that half of the word “ECLIPSE” and the first four letters of “CELEBRATION” were caught in the greenish flames.
 
“FIRE!!” somepony screamed.
 
“No, not the banner!” somepony else shouted.  “It took a week to finish that!”
 
“Hurry, call the fire department!” another pony pleaded.
 
As the citizens of Ponyville rushed to have the fire put out, Twilight and Spike stared at the scene in shock.  “Oh, man . . . .” Spike moaned, crestfallen.  “I’m so sorry, Twilight. I can’t believe I did that. I messed up again . . . .”
 
Twilight reached out and hugged her friend.  “It’s not your fault, Spike,” she said gently.  “You couldn’t help it.”  She looked up at the now-extinguished banner, and the charred black remains emitted smoke and obscured nearly the whole message.  Two-thirds of the first word and the first half of the last word were all gone, and the circle cut from the middle was warped and distorted.  There was no way it would work in the Celebration now.
 
Suddenly, something clicked in Twilight’s head, and she shivered with dread.  Cal likes that banner, she thought.  It’s been up there since he arrived. And now that he’s used to it being up there—
 
“Ohh, dear,” she muttered, hoping now that Cal wouldn’t see them taking it down.
 



 
The walk back to Sweet Apple Acres was silent for them both.
 
Applejack trotted briskly through the busy streets, and Cal followed closely, hiding away from the multitudes whenever possible.  The former wore a stoic expression, while the latter’s usual blank eyes took cursory glances out around town, as if searching for something.  He was still vaguely fussy, but it wasn’t nearly the same storm of temper he’d shown before.
 
Of course, he’d had to apologize soon after they’d left Sugarcube Corner.
 
“Appajak? Is angry?” he’d said.
 
Applejack hadn’t responded right away; she almost felt like she couldn’t.  Eventually, she’d replied with, “No.”
 
“‘No’? I sorry . . . .”
 
At that point, Applejack’s tears had almost started up again.  But she held it together.  One loose tear was bad enough.  From now on, she had to be strong.  Not some weak, whiny little foal like she was so long ago, but a strong, take-charge parental figure.
 
Just like Mama, she added in her head.
 
Applejack was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of chatter up the road.  There was a large group of ponies gathered in the middle of the road, all sounding and looking worried.  “Lan sakes, what’s all the fuss about?” she asked herself, slowing her pace so that Cal could keep up easier.  “Cal, stay close to me, okay?”
 
“Close to me, okay?”
 
Hearing his unique consent, Applejack made her way into the throng of distressed ponies, seeing disappointed faces and hearing voices bemoan the loss of something.  Surveying the scene, Applejack had the strangest suspicion that something was missing, and the feeling of dread returned to assault the pit of her stomach.
 
“What happened . . . ?”
 
“. . . was the strangest thing . . . .”
 
“. . . anyone see that doll come flying . . . ?”
 
“. . . just don’t know what went wrong . . . .”
 
“. . . can’t have the Celebration without a banner . . . .”
 
“. . . could take days to make a new one . . . .”
 
“. . . might have to cancel . . . .”
 
Applejack heard some of these comments loud and clear, and she felt her heart disintegrate.  The banner that Cal had shown so much fondness for had somehow been taken out of commission.  True enough, she looked up to see Flitter and Cloudchaser hovering above the road, lowering the banner—which had somehow become charred and unrecognizable—down to the streets.
 
And already, Cal began fussing.
 
“Enh! Appajak!” he cried, reaching out a hoof to the descending banner.  “It’s big? It’s big?”
 
“Oh, for goodness sakes, Cal, it’s called a banner,” Applejack replied with a minimum of roughness.
 
“Call banner?” Cal replied, still whining and reaching for it.  “Enh! Call banner? It’s big?!”
 
“Cal, it got damaged,” Applejack explained.  “They gotta take it down. We need a new one.”  Fat chance o’ that happenin’, she finished in thought.  She knew how long it took to make that banner, and that it wouldn’t be possible to have a new one made by tomorrow.
 
“Enh! No!” Cal argued, his frustration starting to rise.  “Stop it! No! ENH! EEENH!!”
 
“Darn it all, Cal, I don’t know what to tell ya!” Applejack snapped back, her voice slightly raised.  “The banner’s damaged! It ain’t workin’ no more! I can’t fix it! You’re just gonna have to live with it!”
 
At this, Cal released an ear-shattering squeal that half-silenced the crowd around them.
 
“Stop that!” Applejack scolded.
 
Cal screamed again, louder this time.
 
“Cal, I mean it, stop it!”
 
Cal’s third scream now had the entire crowd focused on the two of them.  Before Applejack could admonish him again, Cal ran to the nearest merchandise stall, jumped up onto his hind legs, and slammed his forehooves against the wood over and over again, creating small impressions in the wood with each strike.
 
“NO!” Applejack yelled, rushing after him.  “CAL, NO! DON’T DO THIS AGAIN!”  She sat down and grabbed him with her forelegs, pulling him away from the stall and attempting to rock with him again.  This time, it didn’t work; Cal’s agitation had reached critical mass, and a simple rocking motion would not help him this time.
 
Cal threw his head back several times to shake himself free, almost hitting his sister each time.  On his fourth attempt, the back of his head slammed into Applejack’s nose, making the larger pony grunt in pain, release him, and fall backwards onto her back.  Applejack gripped her face in agony; she’d felt a break, and was sure it would start bleeding in seconds.  Meanwhile, Cal went right back to pounding relentlessly against the wood of the stall—he plowed a large hole in the hollow structure by the time he was done.
 
And the ponies in town stared in awe all the while.