//------------------------------// // Ep3: The Madness of Miss Cheerilee // Story: Friendship Hearts // by Silver Letter //------------------------------// The town I live in is small, a little thing protected from the outside world by its forests. It’s slower and ponies live closer to each other. There are those little markets that ponies associate with small town living, the ones where friends and family bump into each other and gossip and chat. We have a few of them; not on every street corner. And like so many small towns, we have lots of small businesses; not all of which are able to stay open all year. For Peppermint Drops, the off season comes at the start of summer. It’s when we choose to close down. I have to admit that I get a tinge of sadness when that time rolls around and I see our large oven turn cold. I know that we save money when demand is low but it feels more permanent than the end of the school year used to be; it’s because I care about it. But at least, for what it’s worth, we clean out the store of absolutely everything. The yearly sale keeps us on our hooves from sunrise to sunset for a week. It’s a rare time that I find work to be difficult but everything must go and at a 75% markdown, all the display cases are soon bare. We earn some money and don’t have to throw it all away. If the ponies want chocolate after, they can go to the general store or the Cakes’ bakery for their birthday cake needs. At least those places never close down. I wake up. It is morning and the quietest it has been in a while. I can even hear the birds outside instead of the bustle of a kitchen downstairs. The silence is thought provoking. It’s probably past breakfast. I am still in the same position in bed as when I flopped on it last night. My whole body is refreshed. I start to crave the rich taste of coffee so I get up. After I go to the washroom, I enter the kitchen to find Sweetie already there. I step around a cardboard box full of packed up kitchen accessories and materials. It’s strange how different how this place is without a ton of ponies at whatever hour it is. It’s lacking the distinctive warmth of ponies. There is the peacefulness of white sheets and a sign that says “closed until fall”. But I still have my mare and she is all the company I need. She is stirring her coffee. Her hair shimmers in the light as she turns and sees me. Her head rests on her forearm and her eyelashes flutter delightfully. “Good morning.” “Good morning. It looks like you’re up before me.” “I know but you obviously needed the rest. And I like getting up before you once in a while.” I go pour myself some coffee. “Did you see the sunrise?” She must think I was teasing as she scoffs playfully. “I was hardly up before you. I am the one that really needs her sleep.” “Excuse me then. Well, do you want to make an omelet? That sounds good to me today.” “I can if you really wish but it’s nearly noon.” Sweetie is fiddling with the idea in her head. When she bites her lip lightly and lowers her voice, I can tell that she wants to do something else. I’ll cave sooner or later so it may as well be now. “What were you thinking?” I ask. Now that she knows she’s won, she looks excited. “We should go out together!” I don’t mind going out and doing something that involves us actually going out of our home. We don’t have much to do anyway. We dress up in some light spring attire, flowery frilly dresses and large floppy hats. The sleeves are so long that they reach the hooves. They are just full of spring colors: rose, yellow, baby blue. Today is not as hot as it has been. It’s partially cloudy and I think rain is coming soon. Maybe at nightfall. The two of us stroll to a local park. Ponies like to take their pets there often so one might hear the sound of a dog or occasionally an owl. It’s also a great place to picnic so we bring some food and sweets in a small basket that’s normally used for carrying eggs. The park is green and peaceful with lots of trees and even a slow stream coursing through to a nearby lake. It’s not particularly hot out but we decide to go and lay in the shade of an ancient oak. It’s good that we brought a quilt to lay on with all the seeds and small rocks that can irritate a pony when she lies down. I am glad that I didn’t bring my umbrella. It’s just extra weight that I just do not want right now. Even my pendant is heavy around my neck this morning. I don’t expect to recover fully from such a stressing week in just one night but I am more prone to being idle than I thought I would be. I can just drift off to sleep if I wish with only the sounds of distant bells reminding me of the time. But instead, I sip cold tea and listen to Sweetie as she talks about what’s to come this summer. Unlike me, she is perpetually excited. In this respect, we must look like opposites. The lazy and energetic mares. Out of the corner of my eye, I think I notice several fast moving objects closer to the edge of the hill near the road. With my tinted glasses, it’s hard to see them as anything more than distant dark blobs. I barely tip them lower as Sweetie drones on and I see that they are foals. More than one and moving in a cluster like a small herd. “Oh, Sweetie. That can’t be foals, can it?” She also tilts her head towards where I am looking. “I suppose. School isn’t out yet, I don’t think. I wonder what they are doing around here,” she says somewhat suspiciously. My head is resting on my hooves but I raise it suddenly. “It could be that they’re on a field trip?” Sweetie frowns and waves a hoof at me. “To the park? Don’t be silly.” It might be silly but there’s not much reason to concern ourselves in the matter so I reach for a small cookie to eat. It’s a gingerbread. Sweetie resumes talking about one of our neighbors and how she’s been gaining some weight and maybe she even has a foal on the way. I half listen but her voice seems to drown out as the sound of hooves grows ever stronger. “Do some ponies mind?” Sweetie complains irritably. I hear voices rise near us and we both stand to seek out the source. We spy the foals winding their ways around the trees in no certain direction. They must be playing. I find them cute as soon as I see them even if they are a bit noisy. Sweetie doesn’t think so though. She puts her hoof to her lips and whistles sharply at them. They stare at us for a moment and three soon turn around and runs off in the other direction. But one of them, a filly with a golden coat, approaches instead. Sweetie looks at me almost regretfully. It’s easy to provoke her ire but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel sorry for others. I am not sure what to think as the filly comes closer. Sweetie didn’t intend to be mean or anything. She just dislikes having her quiet time broken. “Sorry. We were just having some fun,” the foal says. Her voice is very plain and unassuming. Sweetie clears her throat to get the filly’s attention. She is very good at being sympathetic and at the same time, giving a stern eye. “It’s not a good time for fun, is it now? Exactly why are you all out of class?” “Um, because the teacher let us out early?” “What an odd day to do such a thing.” The filly shrugs and looks at the ground. “It’s alright. We were just wondering,” I say. Now that things are explained, I want to cheer the filly up. I stand so I can see her more closely. “So, what’s your name?” “It’s Busy Besy.” Her tail swishes on the ground and I see that she has a cutie mark of a beehive with little bees flying around it. “I like your cutie mark.” It look so delightfully sweet that I almost want to go and touch it. I lust after sweet marks and can even grow weak at their sight. The filly’s disposition brightens after my compliment. “Thanks. I like to take care of bees a lot. It’s how I got it.” “I bet nearly everypony at class likes it too.” “They sure do.” “You may go back to your friends. Have a good day.” Busy Besy says bye then heads back to where her friends must be waiting, a lot happier than before. I wave at her. I like her; she gives off a good first impression. Too bad her companions aren’t as friendly as she. “Busy Besy…never heard a name like that,” Sweetie mentions. “It’s a cute one and it suits her well.” “You’re right. I think she may be one of the good ones.” I tilt my head and gaze at her. “The good ones?” It strikes me as strange why Sweetie would say that when she usually doesn’t converse with foals very much. But then again, she did figure me to be a good foal too. “She’s good mannered, I guess. We both know how bad foals can get.” She resumes drinking her tea. “True.” We relax after that, not speaking for a little while and enjoying the silence. I think about the foals. Unlike Sweetie, I like foals unconditionally. I take the rowdy and rough with the sweetest of them. My teacher was Miss Cheerilee and she liked me a lot. I recall her sweet smile she would give me in the mornings when I would go to class. It’s like she was saying that this was our home away from home and she our mother. She called us my little ponies. I wonder how she’s doing. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other. I can just imagine how fun that teaching a new generation of foals must be. Maybe she won’t mind a surprise visitor? I wake early next morning. So does Sweetie; just because the shop’s on break, it doesn’t mean that we don’t need income. She’s found herself a nice little side job working for the Cakes as a delivery mare. It’s decent money for a few hours a day. I don’t have a job just yet but I look in the paper every week. I am not sure exactly what I want to do. Part of me just wants to relax and take every day in stride. That’s how I feel as I eat breakfast and prepare to head out. Sweetie is gone already so I have nothing to distract me from going to visit Miss Cheerilee. It’s only 7:30 and the morning air is nippy with cold dew clinging to my hooves as I walk across the grass. I wear a light sweater that may be tied around me by the time I return. I don’t run but trot at a nimble pace to beat the first foals to the schoolhouse. When I see it, I smile fondly. Everything is as I remember it: the shiny bell at the top, the freshly painted sign, the multitude of hearts adorning everything and the tall brass flagpole in front. Around the front door, I notice that they added some new pruned bushes and even replaced some of the aging playground equipment that used to bruise my arms when I misjudged a jump. What is there looks like plastic. I don’t need to bother knocking and I stroll into the place like it’s a childhood home revisited after many years. The room’s unoccupied and the shades are still shut so my eyes adjust to the candlelight. More has changed in here since my day. There is still a picture of the princess on the wall but there are charts of stars and kingdoms too. I almost trip over wires crossing from a hole in the wall over to the front desk where a small computer lies. They have technology in schools now. Foals today are very lucky. I raise my voice and ask if there is anypony there. The back door opens and I see a mare. But she is in shadow and doesn’t move much when she notices me. “You must be a parent,” she assumes. She goes and raises the curtains one by one so the light streams in then she blows out the candles. She lowers herself on the chair with a noticeable squeak from the wood. She breathes heavily with each movement. I want to speak but the words are not coming out. Even with the light, I don’t know who I’m looking at. Is this mare truly Miss Cheerilee? Or is my memory so distorted by time that I barely recall her in the flesh? I finally find my voice and I smile. “I’m not a parent….I’m actually a student that used to come here years ago.” This pony before me has to be my teacher. It has to be even if there’s not a lot for my memories to latch on to. I look for the familiar all the time -I’m even surrounded by it- but I find so little with her. “A student? When did you come here?” she says impatiently. She leans forward and the chair scrapes backwards while she taps a pencil up and down against the desk. “Like I said, years ago. Don’t you remember me? I’m Peppermint Twist.” I beam this time and turn to make sure she gets a look at my cutie mark, the same one that she congratulated me on when I was little. After, I extend a hoof out to her. “It’s so great to see you again after so long.” I am not sure what reaction I was expecting. Not necessarily an explosive outburst of joy or a cascade of tears. But anything than a silent stare through those thick and cloudy glasses of hers. She doesn’t meet my hoof but wordlessly rises and leans her whole weight through her heavy and fleshy forelegs on the desk, eliciting a groan. Her mouth curls downward and her thick cheeks puff and twitch. Before this, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her angry before. Sometimes disappointed or even upset but never angry. The dense kind that I never thought a mare like her could even express. My hooves feel glued to the floor and very small. “So what is this supposed to be then? Some kind of stupid trip down memory lane? Do you know how many foals I’ve taught? Hundreds! So you know what? I just don’t have time for this shit. I have a class to run!” As she speaks, I can now catch a glimpse of her yellow stained teeth and creases at the edge of her mouth. Her once vibrant mane is now faded and flat. She brushes a strand from her face. I realize that she is truly almost a completely different pony. There’s nothing here that’s the same as the mare I once knew. Even her voice sounds weighted. “I’m….sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad.” I try to pick my words carefully; the last thing I want to do is offend her more. “I just wanted to stop by. I met one of your students. She’s Busy Besy. She said that you let class out early yesterday?” “So? Who cares?” “Well…Mrs. Cheerilee…” She sighs annoyingly. “It’s still “Miss”. As for class being let out, I had to grade tests. In fact, the students should be in shortly so why don’t you just leave.” There is another silence in the room so I turn to leave. There are no more words exchanged as I close the door behind me. I can barely register what happened in there. The way she spoke to me was as if I was a total stranger. I am too numb to cry or walk home. I instead go to the playground and sit on one of the swinging seats. I’ve never been so sad on a swing in my life. Soon, foals come down the road and start going inside the school. I just watch from afar. To them, I’m just some mare perhaps enjoying the nice day. Walking down memory lane. My mind is heavy with doubt. Later, the foals come out for lunch. It is warm by then and I’m holding my sweater in my hooves. I hear their excited screams and the loud clopping on grass as they scatter about. A few decide to head to the playground and they see me there. I notice that Busy is among them. “What are you doing here?” she asks. I get off of the swing. “I’m kind of just hanging out,” I reply halfheartedly. “How was class?” “Boring as usual,” another foal says. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” I don’t feel like conversing right now so I leave them alone and go towards the windows. I peek inside but the classroom is empty. I walk around the school to the back. To my surprise, I see Miss Cheerilee leaning against the brick wall. As soon as she sees me, her hoof that is carrying a lit cigarette drops to her side. But as it’s just me, she instantly relaxes her posture. A stream of smoke escapes her mouth as her hoof rises to take another drag. Her belly jiggles at the same time. It’s hard for me to understand what I’m seeing. She was never an athlete or a model, but she has really let herself go. I wonder what could have happened to make her like this? “Miss Cheerilee! Is something the matter?” My heart and my voice ring the same concern but she ignores me. Her gaze drifts towards a distant hill as she keeps slowly blowing out that smoke. I try to step closer and I say her name again. I fear that I upset her again as she drops the cigarette on the wood chips beside the door and digs it in with her hoof. “What is it?!” My mind is confused. It’s my oldest and most favorite teacher but somepony else speaking in her place, glaring at me with those eyes of hers. It’s disturbing on a cosmic level as if my mother was hitting me for no reason. “Um, I just wanted to talk.” “What the hay do you want?” Cheerilee snaps. I think of something to try and calm things down. “This place hasn’t changed that much.” At least that is true; the place is almost a picture perfect representation of the past. “You didn’t look hard enough. This place changes every year.” “I’m sure it does. It takes some getting used to?” She pulls out a cigarette and lights it. “Not really. Things just change every year. I know to expect it.” I hear the sounds of fillies playing. The voice of Busy Besy the sharpest. It’s so comforting even from afar. An idea enters my head. “It really can’t be easy though. Being on your own?” She looks at me oddly. “What do you mean?” I want to change topics; one that will elicit a little less anger. “I happen to be looking for a part time job. I get along great with foals and I’m very good at noting down things as I work for a business. I know that the school can definitely use a part time assistant!” Cheerilee drops her spent cigarette to put it out. “Are you kidding?” “Of course not. I’ve never been known to kid,” I say seriously. “Don’t you have a shop or something?” I nod. “The shop is closed from summer until fall. I need to find work until then and the last of spring will be a great time.” She lights another cigarette. She seems to ponder my seriousness. “Do what you want. I’m not sure it’s in the budget but…if you want to work so badly then come by tomorrow morning to learn what you have to do.” “Thanks, Miss Cheerilee. I sure will.” I turn and leave. I can’t help but wonder why she would acquiesce so easily. But as I walk across the field and see the foals run and jump about, my thoughts turn towards how great it will be to see them more often. I am sure that things with Cheerilee will improve over time. They can’t always be bad. Maybe I just caught her on a bad day. I pour enough honey into my tea to make it just right. I then settle down in bed and reach for a book that I’ve been into lately. I can hear Sweetie swishing water in her mouth as she brushes her teeth. We spend at least ten minutes per day brushing for obvious reasons. She comes out and yawns. She is wearing her pink silk sleepwear. She patters to the bed in the slippers I bought her for her last birthday. She settles in but doesn’t reach to turn off her lamp just yet. “Twist?” I lower the book. “Yes, what is it?” “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier.” I can tell that she’s had me in her thoughts. She tends to worry about me a lot. I mentioned the school, Cheerilee and the idea of being an assistant with her at dinner. As usual, she was happy about it. She always is. But things change when she has more time to think it over. “Are you sure about this mare? About who she is and such?” “You mean Cheerilee?” I look at her skeptically. “I am aware that you two used to know each other but I also know that you don’t always get along with strict ponies.” She is right but I am not sure how to explain things. Cheerilee being a completely different mare. If I did, she would surely make a bigger deal out of what is really nothing. Sweetie mentioned earlier how she sees Cheerilee going to town sometimes. She would only go out in the evening and always wear something like a coat or a cloak. For whatever reason, she seems to want to be left alone. She rubs my shoulder. “Just be careful out there. You’re my precious candy cane,” she says lovingly. She hasn’t used that name in so long that I chortle under my breath. It came from me being so fragile in my youth but now, it’s a term of endearment if a rare one. “I’ll be perfectly fine.” We share one last kiss before she rolls over to sleep. I start to read in the light of my lamp. I am going to wake extra early as promised. I am already ahead of things since I know one of the foal’s names. I bet they will be just delightful and a joy to get along with. At dawn, I go back to the old school. Clouds obscures the sun and makes the schoolhouse look darker. A row of crows sit on the roof and watch me, a mare with saddlebags, approach the front door. It may be dreary but I am pumped up to start my first day as Cheerilee’s assistant. I’ve helped my mother out with candies and baked in my shop for years. Being an assistant is my life but I’ve never done anything like this before. To be under the hoof of somepony besides Sweetie will take some getting used to but I can handle it. Inside, I draw the curtains and let in as much light as I can. I then take a closer look around. Cheerilee’s computer is off. I move a chair up to the front desk so I can have a place to sit and observe the class. My nostrils fill with the smell of the wood of the desks, the chalk behind me, and dust that floats in the air. It’s all so familiar from the days when I used to sit in one of those very seats. If only it could remain like this then it might just be perfect. Soon, Cheerilee enters from the back and meets me. In the back of my mind, I wonder if she even left the school at all. When I turn to face her, I see that she’s rather groggy. Her eyes turn to slits, miserably rejecting the light. Even through those thick glasses, I see that they are streaked by red blood vessels. Most pictures of monsters from the forest are drawn with the same eyes. She plops in the teacher’s seat and holds her head in her hooves. “You’re here 20 minutes early.” Her words are slow and heavy as if talking to herself. Or maybe her voice is so loud to her that she has to be quieter. Either way, I don’t smell anything on her so that’s a decent start. “Yes, I wanted to discuss things for my first day. Things like the syllabus and such,” I reply. She looks at me and I instantly start to feel bad for her. She’s gotten so old. “I don’t open the curtains until after.” “Why is that?” “I don’t like the light so early in the morning.” “Because you are used to drinking a lot?” “It’s none of your business,” Cheerilee hisses. The anger in her voice sharpens and I draw back a bit in my chair. Before I could apologize, she grabs a textbook and shoves it to me. I take it and look at the cover. It is Elementary Equestrian Geography 7th Ed and it is the teacher’s version. There is a crystal pony brushing the hair of a pretty sheep or at least I think it is one. “The students are studying from this. Read chapter 5 to get caught up. Just remember that you are my assistant and will do what I say at all times.” She gets up and returns to the back room. When she is gone, I sigh softly. Coming here has done nothing but deflate my spirit. Maybe it was a bad idea to even come and talk to this mare with her acidic words. But I don’t leave. Sweetie would be disappointed in me and worse, I would feel like a total failure. I flip the book open quickly before I change my mind and start to read the stuff the class is working on. Some of the material sounds familiar as I scan each page. There’s some new sections about some foreign lands that I barely knew about as a foal. It would be fascinating to check out a book specifically about things like the Griffin Kingdom or others. The first students push the wooden door open. I look up and smile as two colts enter. They are talking and laughing and they both have a backpack on. They have athletic builds with firm legs and broad shoulders. I bet they play sports after school. They settle down and put the backpacks on the floor next to their seats. They then notice me. They are obviously confused as to why a much younger mare is sitting where their teacher is supposed to be. I am trying to appear as kind as possible but perhaps that might throw them off even worse. “Hello, you two,” I say. At first their ears twitch as if they can barely hear me. I see that I have to work on my voice projection so I try again and one of the colts says hello back, albeit hesitantly. I wave for them to come to the desk but only one of them does after a bit of whispering to his friend. He is a rather tall colt. Almost as large as an adult but he still has some growing to do. “Good morning.” “Uh, Cheerilee ain’t here?” he says. Suddenly, the school bell is rung. It’s the same that rang every day when I went to school. I giggle. “I guess she’s ringing the bell. What’s your name?” “Uh, it’s Field Cross. I, like, thought that you were a substitute or whatever.” He has a kind of monotone voice that some have when they train their body but not their brain so much. I see that he has a cutie mark, a wooden hurdle used as obstacles in certain track events. “I am kind of like an assistant. I’m going to help out around the class. My name is Twist.” “That’s cool.” I can tell that he would rather go back to his friend so I let him. Within a minute, more foals stream in. Fillies and colts take their seats. Some of them look at me oddly but I try to remain cheery towards them all. Busy Besy comes in last and I make sure to give her a wave. At least she does the same before sitting in the second row next to a filly with a long ponytail. One of the things I was honestly looking forward to when I got up was being given a gift. Of course it might be a little early since I’m new but it doesn’t hurt to at least hope. I used to give stuff to Cheerilee. Sometimes it would be a candy cane or some other sweet. Things like that aren’t considered to be bad. They actually make a relationship between a teacher and student better. Apple Bloom was always Cheerilee’s favorite. At the start of the day, a polished red apple would be there every morning. Whenever there wasn’t was when the filly couldn’t come to class. But I don’t think it is very likely to happen today. In fact, no pony even did anything to give me a friendly greeting this morning save for Busy Besy. It’s hard to believe that Cheerilee would let that go away. Maybe she is right and a lot really has changed. What a pity to lose such a tradition. I notice that the room is quiet now. Cheerilee hasn’t come back yet so I clear my throat. I’ll get it started on my own today. “Hello class and good morning,” I say. “I am Miss Peppermint Twist but if you want, you can just call me Twist.” The students stare at me and I’m the only adult in the room. Feeling nervous as I write my name on the chalkboard in my neat and flowing writing. “Well, while Cheerilee gets in here, perhaps I can learn your names?” I point to a few foals and I ask who they are. Their names interest me so I ask a question or two about them. I am able to learn about a few local family names, one of each kind of pony. I stand as I speak. My voice definitely projects further and I am more confident as I address the foals. As I banter, I even manage to elicit a faint smile or two from them, a sparkling of sweetness. But soon, it all fades as I hear the sound of hooves pounding on stairs. The back door opens and whatever positive feeling was in the room vanishes in an instant. Even my heart sinks a bit. Cheerilee’s presence is a kind of weight that dominates the room. She sits at her desk and I sit as well. She has a stern stare. “You all must be aware by now of the mare that is with us. She is an assistant which I have allowed to join this class to make it more efficient as I do my lectures. Are there any questions?” There isn’t a hint of joy in her voice. She speaks only to inform. No questions are asked. The foals do seem quite focused but I am put off by how controlled they are. It’s even abnormal. I at least try to focus on being a good assistant as she does her lecture. She’s been at the teaching game for so long it’s obvious that she’s good at the pure teaching part. I am able to follow along as she rattles off dates and events and writes them down on the board with quick and jagged strokes. I occasionally glance at the students. They are hard at work copying it down. I must admit that if it works then maybe it’s a good system. I kind of wish that some of my peers would have put more effort into their studying. I feel kind of bored though. There isn’t much to do right now except read along. After the lecture, the class has to start a quiz that was scheduled before lunch break. The papers are distributed and as the sounds of writing begins, Cheerilee leans towards me. “I’m going out for five. Handle things here,” she whispers. “Uh huh.” She heads out immediately and doesn’t even say thanks or anything. But being in charge…at least that’s something. I decide to read some of the textbook while I sometimes glance upwards to watch the class. If I had to describe them, I would say that they were docile. They don’t dare to so much as cough. So when I hear a rustling of paper, it’s as loud as a twig snapping in the forest. I never try to make it obvious that I am keeping watch but my gaze finds whom had made the sound. It is a young filly sitting at Busy Besy’s left. A little unicorn. A tiny paper on her hoof being pushed to her neighbor, who isn’t responding. The first infraction on my watch. It’s about time for me to start stretching my disciplinary muscles. I stand and walk firmly over to her desk. Some of the foals look up at me. “Is that a note I see?” I concentrate for a few seconds until her name pops into my head. “I would think that it’s a bad idea to do that, especially during a test, Star Spirit.” “Sorry, Well, I moved here last week and I was just asking about…um…stuff,” she says, her guilty voice trailing off. I tsk and take the note. “Well, I guess since you’re new and all…” Before I can even finish, I am interrupted by Cheerilee’s sudden return. “Why are you out of your seat?” she says coldly at me. I turn to her. “Uh, I was talking to Miss Spirit for a moment.” “Concerning what?” I have no choice but to be honest. “She was passing a note.” Cheerilee snorts loudly. “Oh did she?” She returns to her seat. “Star Spirit, come over here now.” The filly does as she is told, albeit slowly. I think she’s afraid. I might be too. The other foals keep writing. “I’m sorry…” Star Spirit manages to whimper. Her ears are drawn back and her lip quivers. Cheerilee reaches into a desk drawer and rummages around for a second. I am unsure what she is doing but the air feels really tense all of a sudden. When she withdraws her hoof, she is wielding a short measuring stick made of wood. “You need to learn the rules. Hoof on the table,” she commands. The poor filly swallows and does so. My eyes practically bulge open but there is nothing I can do as Cheerilee slams the hard edge of the ruler against the end of her hoof. “Oh dear! Was that really true?” The shocked murmuring voices around me concur after I tell them about what happened at the school. “I mean, the horror of it,” Lily says. “Getting hit like that? For like, nothing!” I am with Sweetie and the girls at the Flower Fillies house. Some tea and sandwiches are spread out on a table before us. The dining room has a skylight, glass doors and a bunch of potted plants around. Since I told them about what happened, they’ve been telling me how they felt about it. I try to listen but sometimes, I can only hear the cry of that filly. No, it was a scream; it was one bad enough to shatter glass. Sweetie touches my shoulder. “Are you alright? You’ve kind of been staring into space.” She worries about me. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been thinking.” “About quitting?” Roseluck interjects. “I would totally do that too. I mean, I knew that mare was bad but not that bad.” I can tell that she’s the most agitated out of all my friends even as she takes a bite of a sandwich. “What do you talking about? You knew she was mean?” “Word gets around. She’s kind of known as a harsh teacher. Even so, she shouldn’t hit them. They’re just foals, am I right?” The others eat their sandwiches but I don’t have much of an appetite right now. “Why doesn’t somepony say something about it?” I say. I glance at them all. They were so outspoken a second ago, fully sympathetic, and now they can only shift uncomfortably and quietly in their seats as if a bad secret was told. “Dear, she’s been a teacher for so long that she’s like an institution. I know it’s upsetting to see her after so many years but she has changed. And unless you go to the superintendent of the schools, I don’t know what you or anypony else can accomplish,” Sweetie says. I see now. Her words speak of the obvious and they can only inflame the heavy feeling in my heart. How can we just accept that ponies can change so fully and become so awful? I don’t want to hear it, even from my Sweetie. I stand. “I’m afraid that I’m not really up for tea. I think I just want to go and think about things.” What I am most likely to do is bury my head in a pillow and cry but I would rather not tell and look pitiful in front of everypony. “I hope we didn’t make you mad,” Lily says apologetically. She holds a hoof to her mouth. “Don’t worry. You haven’t. Please enjoy your sandwiches, fillies. I’ll see you all later.” I go out and Sweetie follows me into their garden. Rows of flowers cross their yard up to huge hedges close to the wall. The breeze moves a line of fresh sheets. It is a nice day, I must admit. The perfect weather for kite flying if I wasn’t feeling so down. “Those girls are so apathetic sometimes. Kind of like the rest of this silly town. I wouldn’t blame you if you quit that job,” Sweetie says. She holds me close and I nuzzle her neck. “I know…but I shouldn’t.” She lifts my head up so I am gazing into her eyes. “I don’t think that job is worth being around her. You can always find something else.” “Yeah but if it wasn’t for her, I would love it. I just know it.” Sweetie frowns. “I guess that’s the problem. We can’t do anything about it.” The cold sound of wood on hoof echoes in my mind still. It makes me want to hold Sweetie harder. “All I know is that nothing will change if we don’t try,” I say. “But if I do anything, I shouldn’t be alone.” Sweetie is my sweetest friend because she has never let me down in all our years. I know she’s not going to start now. “If this is what you want then I’ll be behind you no matter what.” We release our embrace. “Thanks. This is exactly what I want.” “Then I’ll see you at home.” “Alright. Have fun with the girls. I mean it.” I walk home. I think about Busy Besy and the other foals the whole way. Sweetie needs help. I need help. They need it. They especially and probably more than I know. I wrote a letter to the school superintendent and sent it to him pretty soon after that day. I didn’t know what would happen or if it would even have an effect. I may be fired for reporting on Miss Cheerilee. But it doesn’t stop me from going back to school the next day and the day after that. I grade a lot of papers while she lectures. Her voice is worse than that artificial speech they have on computers. At least those things have an excuse to sound so flat. I desire to go less and less. There are no smiling faces and I really won’t get an apple on my desk. Not in this class. It is as joyless as a rock farm with a slave driver equally as cold. With every day being so difficult, I nearly forget about the letter as I return home after work. I check the mail as always and see an orange envelope. The familiar logo tells me that it’s the school district and my heart races as I open it with care. I skim it and my mouth opens, turning into a confused grin as I realize what it is. It’s not a notice of termination at all; in fact it’s the opposite. I’ve been given Miss Cheerilee’s job! I read further and then it dawns on me. She was given a two week suspension so it means that I will be the one to replace her. There is no one else available to do it nearby. I am beyond pleased and I want to tell Sweetie and the fillies all about it but there is something else on my mind. It has come as such a surprise that it interrupts my elation. I hardly wanted this. I think about how much of a bad turn of events this means for Cheerilee. Most wouldn’t care. They would just be happy but I’m not them. This is just me being my silly old self, too idealistic to give up on making things better between the two of us. I know I’m stubborn. Only one like me would grab my umbrella and go see her. I would never brag about getting her job, to rub it in her muzzle. But maybe there might be a chance that she has seen the error of her ways so to speak. It’s not my fault after all. I wasn’t trying to get her suspended. If she understands that then it’s all for the best. I sort of daydream in my head as I go. Often, that helps me to plan things ahead of time and I want to make sure that I can tell Cheerilee what needs to be said. She may be angry after all. In fact, I should expect it. I remember her old farm house when I was a filly. It’s looking worse for wear lately but it hardly comes as a surprise. The formerly white paint peels, the yard is thick with weeds and the garage is full of strewn pieces of junk. It wasn’t as if her place didn’t used to look rural to say the least; but the word ‘neglect’ comes firmly to my mind. I would expect to see such a place in a magazine depicting the extreme poor. I head up some creaky steps and tap on her wooden door. Nopony answers. “Hello!” I announce myself. I look around the patio and press my face to the glass. It’s very dark inside and hard to see. The outline of a pony head appears and the shock causes me to yelp as I push away from the window. “Over here!” I notice that the voice is coming from the sheet metal garage across the yard from the house. I approach to where a broken down old carriage rests on a bed of gravel. I walk around it until I see Cheerilee bent down near some old paint cans. The place is damp and stinks of mold. “I’m sorry for intruding, Cheerilee, but I wanted to come and talk to you.” “I thought it was you. What are you doing here?” she says. She doesn’t sound angry but her words are sharp as if each one is a pointed hoof. It is inevitable that she already knows about what happened. She gets up and has a mouse held in her left hoof. A tail drapes downward and swings side to side. I look at it with disgust. “Is that thing dead?” I back off a couple steps. My ears fold flat. She holds it as if nothing more than a toy or a rock. “It better be. Its neck is broken. I heard it when it died and the sound woke me up.” She walks past me and towards the house. She pushes the door open but doesn’t close it behind her so I follow hesitantly. Everything inside her house looks old but not necessarily filthy. The air tastes stale. A pony mannequin is staring outside. Several coats are draped over it. “Take a seat if you want,” she says. She doesn’t care that I am in her house. I watch as she walks to a glass tank next to a wall next to a large ashtray filled with rubbish. A thick snake peers at me from behind the glass, its eyes narrow slits and its tail twitching. She drops the mouse inside and the snake nudges it with its head. I look away and murmur uncomfortably. “What’s the matter? Don’t like snakes?” she says amusingly. “No, they’re fine.” I can feel my stomach tightening. “They have to eat too, you know.” She starts for the kitchen. “I’ll get you something to drink.” I can hear the snake’s hissing as I try to avoid looking at it. She’s right that they do have to eat but I shouldn’t have to think about it. I definitely avoid awful stuff like teeth clamping down on flesh, bones breaking and a snake’s maw ready to consume something whole. She returns shortly with a glass full of what is probably lemonade and a tall glass bottle. She gives me the lemonade and I sniff it. It smells plain and on the watery side. She pops the cap off the bottle with one hoof and begins to chug the stuff down right away. It seems like I can never predict how this mare will act at any given moment. I didn’t even think she would let me into her house but here I am, taking the lightest of sips of her drink before setting it down on the coffee table that separates us. “Are you alright?” She settles down and her weight causes the chair cushion to sag. “Alright about what? My house? Being suspended from my job of fifteen years? You got to be more specific.” “About anything. Whatever’s on your mind.” I want to help her but there is such a wide gulf between us. I wish I could meet her halfway but it’s so hard. Time, memories and experiences create two different worlds, one where the past fades away into obscurity. I don’t think she cares for her past too much. Only the present occupies this dark house as if the Cheerilee I knew never occupied it at all. And here I am, facing the emptiness. All the warmth in the world is beyond her door. “My head is splitting as usual.” I look down. “I’m sorry.” She gazes at me coldly. “Everypony is sorry. They can find the time to be sorry but not enough to make things right. It’s either you or Apple Bloom or somepony else.” “What does she have to do with it?” “I haven’t seen her in a long time. Probably because there’s nothing I have that she wants unlike you and my job.” Each jab at me causes me to grow more frustrated with her. If only I could reach over and shake some sense into her but I know it can’t be that easy. Worse than that, I can’t defend myself either. At least I can’t for how things ended up. I am impatient with her. “That’s not what I want, Cheerilee! For Celestia’s sake….what you’re doing at the school and with those foals. I was just trying to make you see. I was just trying to help!” Those words are off my chest now. I plea not with tears but pins and needles on the floor. I realize that I am scowling at her pretty bad. I never scowl and it feels unnatural. I try to breathe slower and relax. She gets up with her bottle, an extension of her ugly self. “You sure do a fine job of helping!” She walks past me quickly and kind of stumbles to the door. She goes out in a fluster and I hurry after her. I stop in the middle of the yard as she goes and fetches another dead mouse caught in a trap. My anger turns into alarm. “You’re all the same! You and Bloom and Sweetie Belle and all the rest!” She suddenly turns and throws the bottle against the garage, shattering it to pieces. She drops the mouse and her glasses slips off at the same time. “Dammit…my glasses.” She bends down and scoops it up. Her eyes are reddish. “You stupid foals come and then go. You don’t care about the ponies you hurt. We’re all just insects you step on. Disposable like that bottle. And you think you can help me?!” I stand there, speechless. How can she think like that about me? When have I ever done anything to treat her like somepony that wasn’t special? I don’t argue back but her anger intensifies. “Go away, Twist! I do remember you. I always have. I wish you had never come back and never forced yourself into my life! Go away!” I turn and gallop, faster this time, from that horrid place. I go home without stopping. Inside, Sweetie is already there and she notices that something’s wrong. She rushes to me and holds me close and then it is as if that wound that was made opens up as all the sugary tears flow down my face and into her warm and soft coat. The next weekend is tough. I received extra time to prepare for my sudden promotion but I still had to get acquainted with the lesson plan for the last month or so of school. After two sleepless nights and downing a gallon of coffee with cream and extra sugar, the mornings are not kind to me. Even the light of dawn is a floodlight. Everything said, I still have high hopes for my new role. There’s nothing in my way now from getting on a personal level with the foals on a way that I haven’t done with Cheerilee around. After morning preparations, I set out my stuff, write the first instructions on the board then set out a plate wrapped in tin foil. Then I head upstairs to the tower to ring the old school bell. I never knew how easy it was. My younger self would have loved to have done it. I sit in the firm wooden chair as the foals stream in. I see Busy come in and I smile at her. “Good morning!” The other foals are startled by the sudden voice. “Get in your seats, please. Class will begin in one minute,” I say brightly. They settle quickly and get out their notebooks and pencils. “Now that I have your attention, I would like to start off the day with something a little new.” I unwrap the plate and the foals in front should be able to see a bunch of peppermint cookies. “When I was a foal, me and my friends would bring stuff to class as a present to the teacher. But I know that you are not used to the idea so I’ve done a little reversal on it and decided to bring some to all of you today.” I beam and show them to the class. Busy Besy’s hoof goes up. “Yes?” “Are you sure that it’s alright to have that?” I nod and smile at her hesitance. “I am absolutely sure. Cheerilee is on a little vacation so while I’m in charge, it’s now okay to have sweets.” After that, ears shoot up in unexpected excitement and some even talk to each other as I have them all come and grab a cookie. The day is pretty lax as the first hours pass. I make an impromptu back and forth talk between me and the class, a way for us to get to know each other. I do have a syllabus to refer to but I’m in charge so I don’t have to follow it if I don’t want to which is a great benefit if I must say. Besides, it’s valuable to know them on something deeper than on a name only basis. The foals become more animated as time passes. Even when I start my small lecture on the desert climates of southern Equestria, there are more hooves raised and more interesting questions asked. I guess a fear of being yelled at was not that good at provoking discussions after all. I definitely enjoy how work went today. It isn’t long until the class is about ready to be sent home. There’s only a few minutes left so I tell them to do a little light reading. I take the time to rest a little. The door in the back opens and, to my surprise, Sweetie enters the room. She waves at me. A few minutes later, class is over. “Alright, everypony. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Some foals burst out right away while a few says goodbye first. Busy collects her stuff while Sweetie comes to my desk. “Hello dear, I left work early. How is your first day? I bet it’s good from the looks of things.” She giggles happily. “It went swimmingly,” I say proudly. I see that Busy hasn’t left yet and is lingering close by. “Hello there.” She looks at me and smiles. “I just wanted to say that it’s great that you’re our new teacher and I like you a lot better.” My heart feels lifted up from her words and a mixture of pride and happiness fills me. “Thank you very much.” I pat her head lightly and she goes off to play. “They are taking a liking to you,” Sweetie says. She must be even prouder of me than I am of myself. “I thought it would take some time but I guess foals are just that much more resilient than adults are,” I ponder. I pack my things and we head out together. “Let’s go somewhere nice.” She has an umbrella on her back, something I had neglected to bring since it was a bit cloudy this morning. I walk close to her to be in the shade; it’s a good opportunity to put a hoof around her and to touch the softness of her coat. “The others will be so pleased to hear of this nice day. Let’s go and visit them.” I kiss her. “Yes, let’s do that, Sweetie.” As the days pass, I learn the names of my students. It takes time but eventually, I can tell who each of them are as if I’ve known them all year. There are so many different kinds of foals. There are the smarter ones that love to study; if anypony is going to ask a question, it’s them. Then the popular foals, the kind that Diamond was when I was in school. The athletic foals, the kind that’s always daydreaming. Lastly, the quiet types that don’t make a splash in class. I tend to have to look for partners for them when it’s time to do projects. I like them all. They complement each other as a fine ensemble. I know that they appreciate me too. The very next day after I first started, I was given an apple by Busy Besy. It flattered me to receive something like that and as I ate the sweet fruit during lunch, it reminded me of when I was her age. I bet that Cheerilee thought of me as a teacher’s pet just like that golden haired filly is to me in a way. It’s hard for me not to think about the mare that she used to be. Even during class, I feel as though I can sense her spirit still lingering around. The old sweet voice by the chalkboard, a mere memory. On the last day, Busy Besy comes to me after class when I’m getting ready to go. I honestly don’t feel like talking on such a dreary day and yet I will. I assume that it has to be about Cheerilee. I talked to the class earlier that she was coming back for the final week. They knew from the beginning that this wasn’t permanent but it doesn’t make it any less difficult to bear. I’ll be a very sad transition when it finally happens and I am hardly looking forward to it. “What is it?” I say. I sound depressed. I look at her and she is standing very still and gazing at me as foals do when they receive bad news. “Are you sure that Miss Cheerilee really has to come back?” She frowns and her cheeks puff out. She’s a smart foal and probably already knows the answer I am about to say, which makes it tough for me to have to let her down. She, more than anypony else, likes to have me around. “I was just taking her place for a little while. I love teaching you all but I have to return to my business in the fall so I can’t really be your teacher long term. I hope you understand.” She groans and grits her teeth. “I don’t like her. She’s a bad pony.” I turn around and gaze at her sternly. “You shouldn’t say such things. She’s not bad….she’s just different.” I don’t know if even I believe that one. I might have been a little too strict with her or maybe not. Dwelling on it won’t help. I walk home. I’ll sure miss the schoolhouse and those foals and that’s what really matters to me. I have become rather fond of teaching, at least as a side job. I guess I just like foals. They really speak to my soul like most adults don’t do. Sweetie does but she’s a rare exception. But my true heart still lies at Peppermint Drops and I don’t think I’ll ever exchange that for anything else. I go inside and put my stuff down. I hear Sweetie in the kitchen. The water is running. “I’m home,” I announce myself. “Sweetie, how does a salad sound today?” Her voice yells back. “That could work.” I check the coffee table and see today’s mail. A small stack of bills, a letter from Ribbon Wishes, and what looks like another from the school district. My interest is piqued so I tear the end off and pull out the crisp letterhead to read it. Sweetie comes in the room as I’m looking at it. “That came today. I just put it with the other stuff,” she informs me. I nod. Wordlessly, I sit down on the chair. “Are you alright?” Sweetie says with some concern. I blink a few times, unable to process what it told me. There are a thousand emotions filling my head, leaving me near paralyzed. Only the sweet sound of her voice lifts me out of it. I put a hoof to my head. “I don’t know….I mean, I do know. The school district…they’ve sent me a notice requesting me to finish off the last week as the head teacher. They said it was a “heads up”. Cheerilee forwarded her resignation to the district. As far as they’re concerned, she’s retired.” Each word is heavy on my tongue. Sweetie grins and pats my shoulder. “Looks like you won. You don’t have to worry about the foals ending up with her ever again. I am going to make that salad. Maybe I’ll open a bottle of the good stuff and celebrate.” Celebration isn’t on my mind at the moment. Instead, I feel guilt gnawing at me. Cheerilee is retired because of me. Because of me, she has lost what is the only important thing in her life. How can I live with that? If I can’t then even the sweetest wine might taste bitter and my own signature dish burned. Nothing may be right again. I get up and go to the kitchen as Sweetie is busy humming and chopping vegetables. “Hey, dear,” I say softly. “I think I should go.” Having to tell her this makes me even guiltier. She furrows her brow. “Why?” “I just have to go, okay? It won’t take too long so I’ll be back to eat soon enough.” She looks cross as she puts the spoon down on the table forcefully. “Is this about Cheerilee again? C’mon…it’s not your fault. She was a total bitch of a mare that bothered everypony. Seriously, stop worrying over her.” I look down and avoid her gaze. “I’m sorry.” She snorts and resumes stirring the salad. “Fine, whatever. Go if you want. Have fun.” I know she’s annoyed at me. She’s doing that thing where she shuts down and acts sarcastic. We never fight but she used to do that sometimes when I was a foal and I was being difficult. There’s no dealing with that so I get my things and go. I trot all the way to Cheerilee’s old farm house. The clouds are moving in and it’s windy. The windows are dark and the curtains pulled down. I approach the house quietly. It looks angry. I stand at her porch for what seems like an hour. I can’t bring myself to knock nor can I leave. When the wind subsides, I can hear the sound of something inside. Cheerilee could be listening to the radio possibly. I don’t think it’s her talking. After a while, I sigh deeply. There really isn’t more I can say. She won’t listen to me or take my advice. I don’t think she would even take an apology at this point. I want to leave but as I’m staring at her door, I catch a faint sweetness. I am rather confused. There’s nothing around me that would give off anything sweet. Not the old garage, the neglected house itself, or the dirt billowing in the air. Then it suddenly occurs to me that I still have an apple that was given to me this morning. I reach into my saddlebag and pull it out; it’s still in its plastic wrap. It was from Busy Besy but with me worrying about Cheerilee taking over, I was too nauseous to eat it. It’s better than nothing. I put it carefully on the sill facing the window and I walk away. The first day of the last week is both rewarding and difficult. The foals gave me the most gifts I’ve gotten so far but having to be in charge of the final test is stressing me out. I decide to give them a half day off so I can work more on getting everything graded on time. I am sitting, hunched over my desk, as I hear a knock at the door. It’s rather odd. Nopony ever knocks before. I stand and go see whom had knocked. My heart races and I even gasp. It’s Cheerilee standing there. Her mane is brushed and I no longer smell some heavy drink on her coat. Still, she looks weary just standing there. “Cheerilee.” I don’t have to ask why she’s here. We both know the reason. Her ears droop as much as her eyes. “I know.” She starts coughing. “Come inside…please” We both go in and sit next to each other. “Thanks. I’m having a hard time lately,” she says weakly. “I know and I should be more compassionate towards what you’re feeling,” I reply. She shakes her head. “No. Quitting is on me. I definitely overreacted.” “Well, I know that you were only upset because of me.” She grumbles. “Can’t you just take the hint? I’m trying to apologize here.” I can’t help but giggle and even her old mouth begins to form a smile. “I wish none of this had ended. Us talking like friends.” “But things do come to an end. It’s how life goes.” There is an uncomfortable silence until Cheerilee pulls something from her pack. “I found this in my attic. I had forgotten about it until…something made me remember it.” My eyes widen as I gaze at the old photograph in my hooves. It’s of my old class: of me and Apple Bloom and her friends and all the foals. Cheerilee too, standing in the back with that happy face of hers when her color was still full. I smell sugar from the tears that well up in my eyes but I wipe them away. “This should belong to you.” I shake my head. “I feel like this is all my fault somehow.” “There are ponies in the world that I should be mad at…but none should be you.” She gets up then breathes heavily. “Come and take a walk with me.” We leave the school. When she talks, she doesn’t stop but I don’t try and interject. I just listen as we walk peacefully on the rural roads. She tells me how she used to date Big Macintosh. The big red stallion that still farms over at Sweet Apple Acres. She was a lot more naïve back then and ambitious for something the stallion couldn’t offer. She tells me that relationships can sour overnight. It usually doesn’t take much. Just one desire can turn a happy friendship or a cute couple into strangers with years of animosity between them. Cheerilee saw that there was nothing left after her relationship had ended. She didn’t go to the farm anymore to visit. Not even for the lovely cider that they make. The empty seats in her class reminded her of the friends she no longer had, those that disappeared from her life. They couldn’t be filled and she didn’t wish to try. It was a lot easier to push others away after that. We walk close enough that I can smell the apples of the orchards. “We broke up of course. It just wasn’t meant to last. When I went to Apple Bloom, she never wanted to talk about it. She avoided me like I was diseased. It was then that I thought I saw friendship for what it really was. Just a fragile little thing. Ponies didn’t want to see me anymore. I hated being vulnerable so what I did was just to teach. At least I still had that.” “But friendships don’t make us vulnerable. They bring us up,” I say. “That’s what I thought too but things didn’t turn out that way. In the end, everypony abandons you.” She lays down and rests her head on her hooves. All the talk about Apple Bloom dredges up my feelings about her too. I don’t want to be so close to the farm just yet. Maybe she shouldn’t either. There’s just so much that reminds us all of the past around here and the past is such a catalyst for sadness. Some ponies would rather just forget. “I kind of wonder whether you did the best you could in your situation,” I say. “What do you mean?” “Well, you just tried to cut yourself off from what was hurting you. Anypony would have done the same. But in your case, you might have lost control.” She scoffs. “I am a teacher. I do not lose control.” “Hitting foals?” I chuckle at her expense. “You might have.” She shudders as if being told what she did is so different from having had done those things herself. “You still don’t understand what it means to change.” “Maybe you just haven’t had the right kind of change?” “I don’t know what’s right.” I smile at her. “Have you ever been to Sweetie Shores?” We are alone. Two teachers standing together on some old train platform early on a cool morning. The sun has barely risen twenty minutes ago. We watch as the train slowly pulls in. Steam billows outward and a few ponies disembark. Cheerilee picks up her luggage and takes a deep breath. She is wearing a wide hat. The conductor, a young stallion with a cute face, takes her luggage for her and puts it with some others. When she takes her first step on that train, I look on, full of hope for her and the future she might find out there. I may have given her the idea and encouraged her but it doesn’t make me any less depressed to see my friend go and we haven’t yet began to reconnect after all those years. She looks at me through the window and waves. She said to me, “It was close, you know. I just wanted to give up on ponies and everything they had to offer. And I would have lost so much if I did.” As the train disappears, I feel lonely walking back home. I’ll miss her even though she promised that she’ll return to teach foals again. I won’t be worrying about the coming fall and having to deal with that and my work at the shop. There was that apple I had left her. Even I didn’t really believe that I was doing anything to help her when I left it. I guess nostalgia does funny things to ponies. I wonder what it was. Maybe the sweetness of her youth managed to get past all those years of frustration and drinking. A strange thing indeed.