“Maybe I shouldn't do this,” I say, looking out from beyond the stage curtain. Before anyone could reply the judges yell next. Rainbow pushes me onto the stage. I swallow and smile, my breath quickening with nerves.
“Name?” One of the judges asks, not even looking up from her paper.
“Ha-Harmony Glade ma’am.” I reply walking across to stand in front of the piano. The judges write something down and glance up at me with bored, exhausted eyes.
“You can start now.” Another one says, with a monotone voice. I swallow again and sit down at the piano. Relax Harmony, you can do this. You just have to play a hyper complicated piece that is completely original in front or a huge crowd and three very important judges, I think, attempting to calm myself down - it doesn't work. I take another, shaky breath, and place my hands on the keys.
The first few notes go well, and I do most of it just fine, until I hit a sour note in the third transition. I panick slightly and try to get back control, and I do, but the third transition fell apart. When I finish I'm crying like normal, but not because of the music. The stress is horrible, I messed up. I've played that song a million times. I messed up.
I stand and bow, before running off stage.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
The other two performances go pretty well, not excellent, but not horrible mess ups. I'm sitting in the waiting room with the rest of the bands and Rainbow, waiting for the judges to decide who will be moving forward in the competition.
Suddenly the doors open and a staff member enters the room. “Ahem, there will be ten compositions moving forward from this county. Six compositions from Crystal Prep Academy,” He says, and the Crystal prep students cheer. There were only six compositions from them, meaning they all made it through. “And four compositions from Canterlot High School. The names of said compositions are on this list, look for yours to find out if you made it. That is all.” He continues, placing a paper on the table.
I nervously walk over with Octavia and a few other of the competitors from CHS. I tentatively pick up the list, and look it over. My eyes scroll anxiously, checking -double checking- searching for the name of one of my compositions.
Nothing. I pass the paper to Octavia and let my head drop. ‘I didn't make it,’ The thought repeats itself over, and over. My knees go weak, and I sit down where I am.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
I don't remember much of that afternoon, or the days after. I remember Rainbow staying with me for most of it. I also remember Lyra and BonBon bringing me some candy, I think it's still unopened.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
The final bell of the final class rings, and everyone darts out of their seats. I'd start packing up, but I'd never even bothered to pull anything out that class. I get up, and right as I'm about to exit the classroom, Pinky jumps out at me. I fall on my butt and she giggles a little.
“Watcha doin? You look like you're being a super silly little slow poke! Don't you know it's your birthday?” She asks, her smile and eyes both getting way to large. She leans in really close and I step back, causing her to lose her balance and fall forward.
“Of course I know it's my birthday.” I sharply reply, “Can I go home now?” I ask, wanting to be alone. Pinky looks up at me with teary eyes.
“Do you not like your birthday?” She asks, still on the floor. I cross my arms and look down at her with a frown across my face.
“No, as a matter of fact, I do not like my birthday.” I reply. She gasps dramatically and jumps up again.
“That's so sad! Nobody should not like their birthday! It's a day to celebrate them!” She says, waving her hands around in the air. “Do you wish you'd never been born?” She asks, her eyes going wide in the thought of the possibility.
“No, but anyone who'd gone through what I have wouldn't like theirs either. Please let it be, Pinky. This isn't a sadness you can fix.” I reply, stepping past her. I turn and look at her. “Sorry.” I say, before walking away.
I’m almost off campus, just ten more minutes and I should be home. Hopefully I didn't upset Pinky Pie too much. I feel a little bad, but what I said was the truth.
“Harmony!” I hear someone yell as I turn the corner away from the school, I recognize it to be Rainbow's voice and stop. She runs to catch up with me, and it doesn't take her long.
“What are you doing? Didn't Pinky
tell you the party’s at Sugarcube corner?” She asks, pointing in the other direction.
I shake my head, “She didn't get a chance. I'm not going. I don't celebrate my birthday.” I reply, looking away. Rainbow gives me a confused look.
“Hold on, you don't celebrate your birthday?” She asks, raising her eyebrow. I nod. “Why?” She asks, grabbing my hand when I turn to leave.
“Who would want to celebrate the day their father died?” I ask, looking up at her. With each word my voice gains a new confidence, so I continue, “Who would celebrate their father walking out on them? Their father cussing them out? Who would celebrate the day their father left, got drunk, and drove himself off a cliff? Tell me, really, am I wrong to not feel like partying or eating sweets? Is it so wrong of me to not celebrate my birthday?” I ask, yelling at the end. By this point I'm shaking, and Rainbow pulls me towards her.
“I'm so sorry Harmony,” She says, enveloping me in a warm embrace. “It isn't wrong for you to be upset, but you can't let it ruin your every birthday.” She continues, and I look up at her. I try not to cry.
“How about you mourn today, all your sadness and tears and everything,” She starts, reaching up to caress my cheek, “And on Friday you celebrate another year of your amazing existence.” Her voice is soft and comforting. I nod, my eyes filling with tears, and she pulls me into another a tight hug. We stay like this for many minutes, and I let the comfort wash over me. We stay like this for many moments, before Rainbow takes my hand and leads me down the streets to my home. I follow silently, just letting the warmth of her hand seep into my chilled soul.
When we arrive at my home she pushes me through the doorway, and sits me on the couch before making her way to the kitchen. I try to listen to what she’s doing in there, but find my mind clouded with fuzzy images of my long-gone father. ‘Would he have come back had he lived?’ I wonder, looking across the room to the many pictures of me and my mom. I picture what it might look like, had he lived.
The sound of footsteps pulls me from my mind, and I turn to see Rainbow standing in the doorway,a pair of mugs in her hands. Steam rises slowly from the mugs, as she makes her way over and places one on the coffee table in front of me. She sits next to me, our sides touching, and her hand finds a resting place at the small of my back. Her thumb rubs circles against my back, and it is both comforting and distracting. I make no move for the cup, and merely stare at the dark liquid swirling within it, and the bouncy white marshmallows floating at the top. Rainbow takes a drink of her own hot chocolate, and I turn to her, leaning into her touch. She pulls me in as I lean, and I quickly find myself curled against the beautiful athlete. She smiles warmly at me, and I lean my head into her shoulder, her arm wrapped securely around me.
“You know,” She starts, swirling her hot chocolate, “This is really good hot chocolate, I made it, after all.” She boasts, a playful smile on her face. I give her a small smile as well, but still don’t reach for my own cup, but rather just snuggle in further.
“I’m sure it is.” I reply calmly, still not moving. She gives a slight frown, takes another drink, giving a hum of satisfaction. I finally roll my eyes, and sit up just enough to pull my mug into my lap, my hands wrapped around the warm cup and the steam pulling the delectable scent up to my nose.
We sit together for the rest of the evening, talking and drinking hot chocolate. Eventually pulls me off the couch, insisting we get some actual food before she leaves. I concede, and begin rummaging through my fridge, not quite ready to test Rainbow’s cooking skills. I can feel her eyes watching me, and finally turn to look at her. She holds up her phone with a smirk.
“Pizza?” She asks, a hint of victory in her voice. I nod, and give her a playful nudge before making my way back to the living room.
“Pepperoni please, and stuffed crust!” I call, laying across the couch and pulling one of my composition books from the coffee table. I lay there skimming through it while Rainbow’s voice fills the house. I listen to her voice rise and fall as she expresses exactly what she wants delivered. My thoughts wander to the day, and how she kept me company without being told to, as if skipping a party and staying with me is the most normal thing in the world. I wonder if, for us, it is.