//------------------------------// // The (Preempted) Silver Scandal—Part I // Story: The Silver Standard // by PatchworkPoltergeist //------------------------------// Father nodded. “Sit.” Silver Spoon climbed onto the couch, staring at the tight-knit threads in the parlor carpet. She felt the solid, firm foundation underhoof, and tried to ponder the Mustangian import’s age instead of pondering how much trouble she was in. Father loomed over one end of the coffee table. Mother stood frowning at the other. Between them, in the center of the table, lay Silver’s history test. Red ink bled through the back of the page; even face down, the damage could not be denied. “Sterling Silver Spoon.” Father kept his tone level and calm, as if appraising a painting for the museum. “Would you care to explain what we are looking at?” “It’s… um. My test.” She cleared her throat and kept her head down. Perhaps if she made it clear that she understood the seriousness of the situation, it wouldn’t be so bad. “My history test.” Silver dared a quick glance. Her parents didn’t seem angry; they rarely did. Silver Spoon wished they would. Anger burned out faster than disappointment. Mother stepped closer and flipped the paper. “And what is the grade?” “It’s…” “Look at it, dear. Turn it over and tell us what you see.” Silver bit her lip and dragged her eyes away from the carpet. Dozens of red X’s swarmed rewritten and crossed-out answers. Along the margins crept tiny notes of “NEEDS WORK” and “PLS REVIEW” in Cheerilee’s big, curly mouthwriting. Waiting at the top, a single scarlet letter. “It’s a C, ma’am,” she whispered. “A C-Minus.” Staring up at Mother’s neutral gaze and Father’s concerned frown, a lump grew in Silver’s throat. “I’m sorry.” Father adjusted his monocle. “Don’t apologize to us, Silver Spoon. It’s not our education.” “Nor is it our future,” added Mother. “It’s yours, and it will be here sooner than you think.” She took a seat at the far end of the sofa. “What happened here?” “Um.” Silver took a breath and a quick moment to collect herself. “I just missed a lot of work when I had pneumonia. And when I got back, I tried my very best to study and catch up in time, but—” Father narrowed his eyes. “Really.” He tapped the C-minus. “You’re telling me this is your best, Silver Spoon? That is the story you want to go with?” Silver Spoon looked away. Alright, maybe she hadn’t tried her very best but she had tried… a little. Trying a little was better than not trying at all, right? “I did study on Thursday night and Friday morning. You saw, remember? I was in the kitchen with my books.” “Yes, I remember. But what happened to the rest of Thursday?” Mother's question didn't sound like a question at all. “As I understand it, Miss Cheerilee gave you the entire day off to study.” Father nodded. “For that matter, what happened to Wednesday afternoon? Or Tuesday? Or Monday? Silver Spoon, you had over a week to catch up and I know for a fact you spent hardly any of it at home with a book.” “So I’ll ask you again, young lady.” Mother’s bright orange tail lashed across the black upholstery. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “What happened here?” “I was…” Silver rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. “I was hanging out with Diamond Tiara.”   Father made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat and exchanged a frown with Mother. “Mm.” Mother folded her hooves and nodded, as if to confirm something. “The nouveau Rich child.” Silver Spoon blinked. What could be the matter? Sure, Diamond had her weird moods and bad turns, but overall made a perfectly reasonable choice in friends. Yet, Silver heard something familiar in Mother’s tone. Her voice grew soft. “Do you not like Diamond Tiara?” Mother’s lips pressed together and she didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Twitching her ears, she turned away to hide it, but Silver saw the look in her eye anyway—the same stainless disdain usually saved for panhandlers, mezzo-sopranos, and fake jewelry. As if on cue, Father swooped in for the save. “Brightness, this has nothing to do with liking Diamond Tiara or not.” He tilted Silver Spoon’s chin up to meet his eye. “Yet, you must understand this test isn’t an isolated incident. We’ve spoken to Miss Cheerilee and she says your grades have been slipping.” Silver drew back against the couch. “But it’s not—” “Not by a lot, yes, we know.” Mother scooted closer and wrapped a foreleg around Silver’s shoulder. “But it isn’t just that. Cheerilee says you never speak up in class anymore. You don’t volunteer to demonstrate math problems or involve yourself in class projects; you hardly even raise your hoof.” “We’d understand if you were struggling with the material or really had just fallen behind from the illness. But this?” Father sighed, inclining his head towards the history test. He set his derby hat on the table and took a seat on the couch next to Silver Spoon. “This isn’t like you at all.” Parents pressed against her on both sides. Silver’s hoof traced dark lines in the velvet sofa. She wished they’d just punish her and get it over with. Mother nuzzled the top of Silver’s head. “Silver Spoon, you love history. Why, back home, I think you spent more time in museums than your father.” That’s not even fair. Ponyville doesn’t even have museums and barely has a history to care about. Silver pursed her lips and considered telling Father so. As one, both parents stared down at her from miles up. Silver swallowed the argument back down. “So, am I grounded, or…?” “Would grounding correct this grade point average?” Father didn’t wait for an answer. “No, it would not.” Mother smiled. “Happily, Miss Cheerilee has offered a chance to make it up through extracurriculars. Quite graciously, I must add. Mr. Martingale never would’ve allowed it.” “Extracurriculars? You mean like clubs?” The weight in Silver’s chest lightened. “That’s not so bad.” She’d loved her old V.P. position in the Junior Debutantes, after all. Maybe Ponyville has a chess club. I always wanted to join Chess Club. She let herself smile a little. “Yeah, I could do that.” “Do it you shall.” Father gave her one last nod and moved aside to let her off the couch. “You’re excused.” And not a moment too soon. Silver made for the door as quickly as good taste allowed. “Oh, and Brightness?” One hoof on the door handle, Silver Spoon looked back. “Yes, Father?” Father fetched a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his monocle clean. Without looking up, he said, “See to it that it’s a project without Diamond Tiara. This is not a request.” “Yes, sir.” Knew that was too easy. Silver leaned over the teacher’s desk to study the two sign-up sheets: peewee hoofball and The Foal Free Press. “Hmm.” At least Cheerilee made the choice easy. Silver Spoon threw a ball as well as Fluttershy threw a New Year’s Eve party, so newspaper staff it was. She glanced at the date. The newspaper staff held its first meeting this Wednesday. By now, all the good writing jobs had likely been taken. Great. I get to take home the stink of ink and paper every week. Maybe a position of food writer or proofreader could still be open. Something far away from the actual printing. Her hoof traced the available positions from the bottom up. PRINTING: SHADY DAZE Thank goodness for that. SPORTS: RUMBLE COMICS: BERRY PINCH FOOD & DINING: TRUFFLE SHUFFLE So much for the best position. And since when could Berry Pinch draw? The kid barely got stick figures right. ROVING REPORTERS: APPLE BLOOM. SWEETIE BELLE. SCOOTALOO. Gross. Still, reporting worked as a last resort and beggars couldn’t be choosers. And it was still better than printing. Silver would have to make the best of it and try not to cross paths too much. PHOTOGRAPHER: FEATHERWEIGHT At least one of her coworkers wasn’t terrible. FACT CHECKER: ________ An office job all about telling other ponies how wrong they were? Perfect! There’ll be plenty of facts to check, too. Scootaloo probably thinks Neighrobi’s a continent. Silver Spoon glanced at the final position as she took out her pen. EDITOR: DIAMOND DAZZLE TIARA Silver pulled the sheet close and checked again. No mistaking it. Big capital letters and Z’s like lightning bolts: Diamond’s signature for sure. “Sorry, Silver Spoon. Maybe next year.” Miss Cheerilee offered a conciliatory smile. Mother must have told her about the condition. She leaned to look over the sign-up sheets. “I think you might have missed one, Silver.” Cheerilee brushed aside the hoofball sheet to reveal the last option: Ponyville Schoolhouse Student Council. “We could really use more ponies on it, too.” Silver adjusted her glasses and gave it a look. “Huh.” Eight slots open out of ten, not including Student Pony President… She squinted. Twist? Really? The girl was a nice enough foal and all, but seriously? President? What, did only five ponies vote? She had to balk at Ponyville Schoolhouse’s questionable taste in vice presidents, too. “Truffle Shuffle?” What is this, Dork Club Incorporated? “I thought he did the paper.”   Cheerilee nodded. “He signed on for the paper months ago, but when he saw how much the student council needed more ponies, he offered to help. It was very nice of him.”  “It sure was, Miss Cheerilee.” Suck up. Is there anything that fatty won’t do to get on the teacher’s good side? The bell rang and foals trailed into the classroom in a dull roar of schoolyard chatter. Silver spotted Diamond Tiara towards the back, running three-legged and holding a huge stack of Stall Street Journal back issues. She didn’t notice when Silver waved. “Ooh, Thilver Thpoon!” Twist stopped to peek over Cheerilee’s desk. Her chipped hooves reached for the sign-up sheets, but couldn’t quite reach. “Are you going to join thtudent counthil? We can really, really use more foalth on thtaff, and…” She glanced at the name at the top of the press positions. “Oh… you’re probably joining the paper, huh?” If only. Silver chewed her pen cap thoughtfully. “Miss Cheerilee? Um, I’m happy for the opportunity and all, but how exactly does this help my grade? I mean, it’s not history, just regular old school stuff.” “History doesn’t just happen in books and on battlefields, Silver Spoon.” She took her seat and began sorting out last week’s homework assignments. “I know it doesn’t always feel like it, but history’s happening every day, even right here in Ponyville. Think of it this way: you’re shaping it instead of reading it.” “I guess that makes sense.” Silver Spoon signed her name in two smooth strokes and looked back up at her teacher. “How do I write about that, though?” “Maybe you can, um, talk about how it’th like how ponieth did government thtuff in olden timeth?” Twist had some nerve, barging in on somepony’s private conversation to give opinions nopony asked for. Though Silver had to admit, the idea wasn’t half bad. “We’re really glad to have ya, Thilver!” Silver cringed closer to the desk, watching Cotton Cloudy float by. “Um, Twist? Could you not advertise this? I don’t like to advertise my, er…charitable work.” Cotton, too busy fussing at Featherweight, didn’t seem to notice. She took her pencil box back from him, landed near the front window, and began to lay her pencils out on a desk. Silver’s desk. Diamond Tiara gave Cotton a weird look, frowned, and went back to her paper with a shrug. “Hey, that’s my seat!” Silver lightly tugged her teacher’s hoof. “Miss Cheerilee, Cotton’s in—” “I know,” said Cheerilee. “I’m switching you.” She flipped through the homework pile and handed down Silver’s A-plus vocabulary exercise. “I warned you two twice about passing notes in class.” Silver frowned at the weather pamphlets and molted feathers coating the inside of Cotton’s desk. Her own orderly desk now sat between Dinky and the new Trottingham kid. “But that’s not fair!” Cheerilee lifted an eyebrow. “Well, causing distractions for your classmates isn’t very fair to them either, is it?” “I…no, ma’am.” Silver folded her homework into her notebook, gathered her saddlebag and took her new seat. How in Equestria had Cheerilee found out about the notes? I’m always so careful. I couldn’t have slipped. Somepony must have said something, and it didn’t take a genius to know who. Silver turned in her seat and gave Truffle Shuffle the coldest stare she could manage. The chubby colt dared to look at her half a moment before he averted his eyes. Obviously guilty. Twist tapped his shoulder on her way to her desk. “Truffle, gueth what?” She whispered in his ear, not-so-discreetly pointing in Silver’s direction. “Really?” Truffle fetched an apple from his bag and took a tiny bite, still trying not to look directly at Silver Spoon. He chewed slowly, tail curled tight against his flank. His eyes trailed from Silver to Diamond Tiara. “A-are you sure?” Twist bobbed her head enthusiastically. Truffle Shuffle put his head in his hoof. “Great.” “Hmph.” Silver flipped her mane and turned back around. “Isn’t it just?”   “Di, you wanna do afternoon tea at Tealove’s tomorrow?” “Mm-mm, too busy. Tomorrow’s Wednesday. First press meeting, remember?” “Oh. Right.” “You could still come to my house and help me get ready today, though. I’m really gonna need it. This rag’s like, a total disaster, so we should start early.” “Actually, uh… I can’t.” “Sure you can, everything’s already set up in my room, and I just need an extra pair of hooves to—” “No, I really can’t. I’ve got extra credit stuff to do after school today. We meet on Tuesdays.”   “Huh. Well, that’s fine, I guess. I mean, we can do something Friday, right?” “You bet. Friday, for sure.” The wooden gavel clacked three times. “Attention, everypony! This meeting of The Ponyville Schoolhouse Student Council will now come to order.” Truffle Shuffle’s voice took on a slight echo in the empty classroom. Silver Spoon raised an eyebrow. She looked around at the semicircle of empty seats surrounding Cheerilee’s desk, currently occupied by Truffle and his dumb gavel. “Everypony” seemed a strong word when there weren’t even enough foals for a bridge game. She couldn’t see much point in the seating arrangement, either. Couldn’t they just arrange three desks in a circle instead of repositioning the whole room? “We will now call attendance.” Truffle cleared his throat and pulled out a little notepad. “Student Pony President Peppermint Twist?” A desk away from Silver, President Twist (seriously, how was that a thing?) sat up and waved her hoof. “Here!” “Vice President Truffle Shuffle?” He raised his own hoof. “Present.” Truffle’s chubby frown made his cheeks puff like a grumpy chipmunk. “Silver Spoon?”  Silver rolled her eyes. “Duh, I’m obviously here. Look, is all of this really necessary? We’ve only got three ponies, it’s totally obvious who’s—” Truffle clacked his gavel. “Order in the council!” “Hey, you just can’t—” CLACK! “Okay, but—” CLACK! CLACK! Twist leaned over her desk to gently tap Silver’s shoulder. “We’re not thuppothed to talk unleth we have the talkin’ thtick.” She pointed at the white birch twig lying by Truffle’s notepad. “Oh.” Silver Spoon sank in her seat and kicked the side of her desk. How was I supposed to know that? Not like anypony bothered explaining any of the rules. Still, she could respect a request for order and decorum. While Truffle read the dull minutes of last week’s boring meeting (something about new glass or whatever) Silver kept her comments to herself and reread her science notes. “…have a new member. Silver Spoon?” The birch clattered on Silver’s desk and started to roll away. She jumped to catch it in her teeth before it hit the floor. Looking back up, she discovered everypony’s eyes on her. “Uh...” Twist wiggled her ears, smiling expectantly. What exactly did she expect? A plan? A speech? Silver hadn’t prepared a speech. She should have prepared a speech. What was the Council protocol for this? Surely there had to be protocol, why else all that business with the gavel, but what if she did something dumb again? “I…” How am I supposed to follow rules I don’t know? This is stupid. This is all so stupid! Why can’t I just write a book report instead? Truffle took his seat on the opposite side of Twist. He made a little “go on” motion and wouldn’t stop staring at her. He had a fat, ugly frown on his stupid, fat, ugly face and the grubbiest mane Silver ever saw on a colt. When was the last time you washed your hair? What a toad. Did he have to keep staring? Hadn’t his mother told him staring was rude?   Silver held the twig close to her chest and flattened her ears. I bet he’s just waiting for me to mess up so he can go tattle to Miss Cheerilee and get me kicked out. Truffle knew Silver’s grade relied on this extra credit. He had to know. Just wants to make me feel bad because he’s a fat ugly jerk. In the wide, empty classroom, Silver squirmed under the spotlight. And it’s working. She cleared her throat. I wish Diamond Tiara was here. “Hello. I’m Silver Spoon,” she whispered. “It’s… a pleasure?” Her ears drooped. Maybe it’d be better to just apologize and quit. “I’m here for three weeks to learn about student government for, um...extra credit.” Silver sighed and handed the birch twig back to Twist before she could embarrass herself anymore. Truffle Shuffle glanced at Twist. He knitted his eyebrows and didn’t say anything. He seemed a little confused. “Hey, it’th okay. Plenty of ponieth need extra credit.” Twist smiled and put the birch to the side. “We don’t really need it except for debateth and at the beginning.” “Okay.” Silver rubbed her temples. Pity from the ladder’s bottom rungs. Sweet Celestia. “You’ll like Council, really! We do a lotta fun thtuff.” “I guess.” She let the knots in her stomach loosen and readjusted her glasses. “I’ve never really looked into politics. Until this Monday, I didn’t even know we had a president.” Truffle rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, not a lot of ponies do. I think me, Twist, Namby Pamby, and Snails were the only ones that voted last year. And Snails voted for The Great and Powerful Trixie.” “Who ran against her?” For the life of her, Silver couldn’t recall an election race at all. Maybe it happened before she got to Ponyville? “Nopony did.” “Ah.” That’d do it, too. “So… what do we do around here, anyway?” Twist dragged out a huge roll of paper. “I’m glad you athked!” The roll unfurled over Twist’s desk and kept on rolling until it hit the edge of the wall to reveal a huge mouth-drawn thermometer. Bit prices ran along the side, leading up to the drawing of… something. Silver peered over her desk, squinting. What was that? A baseball diamond? A kite? Twist lifted her head with pride. “We’re trying to get a new window!” “You’d know that if you paid attention to the minutes,” Truffle grumbled. Silver Spoon elected to ignore that comment and sat up to see the boarded-up window at the back of the room. The bottom planks showed signs of rot, and on rainy days, water leaked onto the floor. Miss Cheerilee had to move a bookcase in front of it because the back row complained about a draft. “Oh, yeah. It got smashed when that… mismatched snake statue thing ran around Ponyville, right?” The town had smelled like sour milk for two weeks. Truffle Shuffle gave Silver a weird look. “How do you not remember Discord?” Silver shot the look right back. “Uh, because I wasn’t here?” “Yeah, she went on that Canterlot field trip with me, remember? We had to thtay in a hotel when the train track got covered in mashed potato.” Twist lifted the top of thermometer to show the rest of the room. “Anyway, we’ve been getting money for weekth and weekth and look! We’re thuper close!” “You’re about three hundred bits short.” Not exactly what Silver would call “close”, but whatever. “…Wait, why are we getting the school a window? Like, isn’t that something the mayor or somepony should do?” Twist shrugged her shoulders. “We tried athking the thchoolboard about it.” “But they didn’t have enough in the budget, so Twist said we could try and raise the bits ourselves.” Truffle Shuffle grinned at the president. “Like with the talent show.” Silver swung over the side of her desk. “Wait, that was you? That whole thing?” “Yup.” Twist thought about it and shrugged. “Well, not the whole thing. I mean, Cheerilee and Truffle helped put a lot of it together, but I came up with the idea.”   “Why in Equestria didn’t you say anything, Twist? I mean, you’re Student Pony President for peat’s sake!” “You never athked.” If Silver Spoon lived to be a thousand, she’d never understand some fillies. “No,” she said with a chuckle. “I guess I didn’t.” “But now we need something else.” Truffle Shuffle turned the birch twig over in his hooves, examining the slender tip. “More than half the class is busy with the newspaper or hoofball or special talent stuff. I don’t think we can get foals involved in another big project. It’ll have to be something we do ourselves.” “Then we’ll all make sure we do our betht.” President Twist smiled encouragingly at the tiny council. She nodded at Silver Spoon. “Right?” Silver Spoon frowned at the great circle of empty chairs. “...Right.” Three schoolponies raising three hundred bits. Thankfully, Miss Cheerilee graded on effort and not monetary success. “It’s not impossible, I guess.” Truffle sat atop his desk, chewing the tip of the twig in thought. His ears pricked. “Wait! Silver Spoon, that’s it!” He swung around, hoisting the stick high to smack it on Silver’s desk like a gavel. “You’re rich!” Silver frowned, edging herself out of smacking range. “And?” Twist clapped her hooves. “Ooh, I get it! Thilver can jutht pay for the retht of the window. Maybe even a better window!” “With stained glass, just like in Canterlot,” added Truffle Shuffle. He giggled a little as he bounced in his seat. “Maybe with a picture of Miss Cheerilee in it, so everypony’ll always know what a great teacher she is, even after she retires.” Before somepony started suggesting silk curtains or lattice lights, Silver Spoon snatched up the twig. “Uh, excuse you. Who said the Silvers are paying for anything? It’s your window, Mr. Vice President.” “Yeah, but we all go here, Thilver,” said Twist. “That maketh it your window, too.” Truffle nodded. “Besides, your family’s got a thousand zillion bits as it is. They’re not gonna miss three hundred.” “We already pay for the school, you clod!” Silver’s polished horseshoes braced hard against the desk. “What do you think taxes are?” “Oh, come on, Silver Spoon! For once, you can do something really positive for this school instead of just being—” “Being what, wide load?” Silver loomed so far over the desk, she practically stood on it. “Being. What?” “Uh, guyth?” Twist waved a hoof in the background. “Hey.” “Instead of...” Truffle flinched back, looking at his hooves. He glanced at the fund thermometer, brought his head up, and shot Silver’s glare right back. “Instead of being a mean, selfish, tightwad jerk!” “Right, I’m the jerk because I won’t let you milk my account dry.” “No, you’re a jerk because you’re always a mean, selfish, snobby pony, Silver Spoon! Always! ‘Scuse me for thinking that maybe for once—” “Wow, thinking about something besides brownnosing and cupcakes.” Silver’s teeth clenched in a nasty little sneer. “Slow down before you hurt yourself.” “Order in the counthil!” Twist jumped on Cheerilee’s desk and banged the gavel until the light fixtures rattled. “Guyth, look at yourthelveth!” She spread her hooves to the room. “Fighting? Name-calling? That’th not how politicianth act!” Silver Spoon didn’t know about politics, but she certainly knew that ladies did not stand on top of desks and scream like a firebrand. With a sigh, she settled back into her chair. “I’m sorry, Truffle Shuffle.” She folded her hooves, tilting her nose in the air. Sorry you’re an ignorant little toad. Truffle Shuffle sank back in his desk and crossed his forelegs. He glared at Silver Spoon, looked back at Twist and sighed. “I’m… sorry, too.” The gavel went back to its resting place and President Twist eased the meeting back on track. “’Okay. Thilver are you really sure you can’t donate anything?” “They’re not my bits to give.” Silver Spoon recalled the sad, lonely echo of her penthouse apartment. Instead of waltzing at The Grand Galloping Gala this year, Mother and Father went to bed early. “So, yes. I’m pretty sure.” She shook off a twinge of sadness. Now was not the time. “Besides, if I just fork over the money, that’s philanthropy, not politics. I don’t think Cheerilee will count that for my grade.” Truffle blinked and considered this. “That’s… actually a good point.” He scratched his head, glancing down at his cutie mark. “But there’s gotta be something we can do. Earlier this weekend, I thought maybe we could put our special talents together, but…” He got quiet when he glanced at Silver Spoon. Silver lifted an eyebrow. “What?” “I’m not exactly sure what you could do with a cutie mark in... Um.” He looked away. “Tea parties. It’s a teaspoon.” What in Equestria did he think it was? What else would it stand for? “Well, let’th think about that.” Twist twirled a pencil in her hoof, looking over her clipboard. “Thilver knowth tea and fanthy thtuff. I can make candy, and Truffle, you can do all kindth of food.” She bounded into the center of the circle, beaming. “I motion we have a bake thale!” “I like it,” Truffle said. “We wouldn’t even be spending the school’s money, ‘cause it’ll all be stuff we made ourselves. I second the motion.” “Adults do like buying stuff from cute foals.” Silver shook her head. “But for three hundred bits? I don’t know.” “It’th worth a try,” said Twist. “Unleth you’ve got an idea?” Silver didn’t. “Okay. I third it.” The Ponyville Schoolhouse Bake Sale passed by universal vote. Miss Cheerilee normally went home early on Monday afternoons, but for the student council’s presentation, she made an exception. For once, Silver found herself glad Truffle Shuffle always stayed on the teacher’s good side. “We don’t really know what we’re gonna make yet,” said Twist, “But I can make plenty of peppermint thticks and Thilver offered to make iced lavender tea and cucumber sandwiches for ponieth who don’t want any thweet thtuff.” Silver frowned at the pencil and crayon drawings in her hooves. They still seemed too minimal for an official proposal. It needed some colorful borders, or charts. Diamond Tiara always said teachers love charts. She’d hoped to consolidate and finalize some last-minute changes with Diamond over Friday afternoon tea. The council needed ways to spice up the presentation (Truffle had suggested paprika). But Diamond hadn’t been home Friday afternoon. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. The maid mentioned something about a family dinner and a welcoming party—visiting relatives, it sounded like. That could certainly take up a weekend, but why hadn’t Di said anything about it earlier? Had she not known? “We were thinking of setting it up near—” Truffle Shuffle rubbed his eyes, yawning. Between writing his food article and delivering early issues of The Foal Free Press, he’d been going to bed late. “Near a place with lots of traffic, like Sugarcube Corner or the town square.” Silver Spoon switched drawings of food and drinks for an ink sketch depicting a mob of fine-dressed ponies running for the bake sale. Bit signs swarmed their top hats like flies. “In conclusion, we think our bake thale can get a new window, bring the thchool lot’th of money, and make it a better place.” Twist and Truffle Shuffle took a bow. Outside, peals of laughter rolled across the playground. Silver peeked out the window to discover Sunny Daze and Peachy Pie sharing a copy of The Foal Free Press. Sunny buried her face in Peachy’s mane, shoulders shaking with giggles. Peachy laughed so hard, no sound came out at all. There, in the middle of page one, the notorious Bubblegum Fail photograph still took Ponyville Schoolhouse by sticky, bubblegum storm. Every foal Silver had seen today either had the paper, was looking for the paper, or talked about the paper. The first issue came out Friday morning and sold out by the end of the afternoon. Truffle said the second printing sold out again at today’s recess. The Foal Free Press wasn’t just a success, it was a phenomenon. Snails caught Silver’s eye as he passed the window. He lowered his sunglasses and winked. Ugh. Three days of celebrity status and already a showhorse. Silver ignored him and looked back to Cheerilee. “A bake sale sounds like a wonderful idea, kids.” The teacher opened the door for them and walked them out into the playground. Truffle trailed behind, eyes half closed. “I’ll ask the mayor about reserving a spot in the square right away.” Twist took the visual aids back from Silver Spoon and added them back to the clipboard. “Thankth, Mith Cheerilee!” Silver stretched her neck over Twist’s haunch to see the playground. The tips of Berry Pinch’s ears poked over a newspaper. Cotton sat on a branch, reading over her shoulder. Pipsqueak played tag with Rumble and Shady Daze. The Dink jumped rope. Featherweight snapped photos of The Dink jumping rope. No Diamond. She hadn’t been at recess, either. “How soon do you think you’ll be ready?” Cheerilee asked. Twist thought on it. “I know my auntie Bon Bon’s not busy right now; the candy’ll be ready by Friday.” “I can do it in a week, if somepony helps.” Truffle nudged Silver’s leg. “You know anything about pastries?” “Mm. I know how to make parfait and petit fours. I’m better at arranging them than making them, though.” Silver stopped in her tracks. There! In the basement window, a pink flash of movement and a glint of metal. Diamond Tiara’s smiling face peeped out, surveying her success. No sign of leaving soon. It looked like she’d be staying at the presses today, too. “I thiiiink we can have it all ready the Friday after next,” said Twist. “I know we’ll all be looking forward to it. Great job, Student Council!” Miss Cheerilee gave them a congratulatory nod. Twist knocked hooves with Truffle in an awkward, lopsided imitation of a high-hoof. “Yeah! I’m gonna go talk to Auntie about the candy right away, tho we can thtart making the menu at the next meeting.” Diamond’s eyes met Silver’s. She stood up in her big swivel chair, waving and holding up an issue of the paper. Silver held up her own issue and nodded in silent congratulations. “Sounds great, Twist. See ya!” Truffle Shuffle tilted his head, stepping closer to Silver. “What’re you looking at?” After a second, he must have figured it out, because he flinched and tried to hide behind Silver. Diamond Tiara knocked on the window. She pointed to Truffle and then tapped the nonexistent watch on her fetlock. Truffle Shuffle sighed. “Well, that’s the boss. Better get going before she gives the staff the journalistic integrity speech again.” “But it’s Monday.” Silver waved at the window until Diamond’s huge chair swiveled back around. “I thought The Foal Free Press only met on Wednesdays.” “Not anymore.” Truffle yawned again and rubbed his eyes. “Says something about go-getters… crush time… I dunno, it was a long speech. I just know it’s Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, now.” “Oh.” There went afternoon tea for almost half the week. But Di worked harder than any non-senior filly Silver had ever known, and it obviously paid off. Proper ladies appreciated and applauded their friends’ successes. Never mind. Tea for one is still nice. I’ll just have to get her on Thursday.    “Truffle makes a good point.” Silver Spoon took the birch, twirling it in her hooves. “Why would ponies buy cookies from us when they can get it across the street at Sugar Cube Corner? I propose we branch out, give Ponyville something unique.” “Like with what?” asked Twist. Truffle Shuffle paced within the circle of desks. “Well, if it’s not something sold at Sugarcube Corner, then it can’t just be something ponies can find at, say, Barnyard Bargains, either. It’s got to be something special.” Silver nodded. “Something fancy.” “But still appealing.” A hush settled over the room. Truffle Shuffle and Silver Spoon looked at each other. “Gourmet!” they cried in unison. “We can do petit fours and pizzelles and macarons! I can use my pearl inlay dessert stands and wear my new dress.” “Ooh, I always wanted to do real gourmet. I‘ve got this one crème brûlée recipe I’ve wanted to try since last summer. And Pipsqueak’s been telling me how much he misses his grandma’s treacle tarts, we could try that too. Oh, soufflé!” Truffle put his head in his hoof, sighing with a dopey smile. “I always wanted to make soufflé. And crêpes!”       “We should make some flan, too.” Silver nodded. “Everypony loves flan.” Twist took the birch. “Um. I like the idea and all, but I dunno if my kitchen can do anything that fanthy. Or that much of it.” Oh, right. Twist had a kitchen for candy making, not baking. From what Silver remembered, the house looked on the small side, too. “We certainly can’t do it at my house.” Even if Brass Tacks let them use the kitchen, Mother wouldn’t stand for a mess. Plus, they probably didn’t have the equipment for it. “Truffle Shuffle, what about your house?” The colt’s face wilted. He looked so downhearted Silver almost felt sorry for asking. “My grandma’s house is kinda… cramped. And I don’t think she’d like it.” “Sugar cookies it is, then.” Silver sighed. Twist tried her best to lift the room’s spirits. “Aw, c’mon guyth. Cookieth aren’t that bad.” “No, but they don’t get crowds.” Silver rolled her new official student council secretary pin in her hooves. “It’ll get us a couple of charity buys, at best.” Truffle took the birch. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we ask the Cakes? They’ve got a catering business, right?” As the idea took root, the twinkle came back to his eyes. “I’m sure they’ve made all kinds of gourmet food before, so they must have the right equipment.” Twist’s gavel clacked on the desk. “Then we’ll try it. If the Caketh are too busy, I bet Pinkie Pie would love to help.” “We can go on Thursday right after school,” said Truffle. “I know they’re all home that day.” Silver frowned. “Does it have to be Thursday? Can’t we do it Saturday?” “I’ve got thpeech therapy that day. And the day after, we’re going to my couthin’th houth.” Twist offered an apologetic shrug. “Thorry.” “I think Sugarcube Corner might be too busy that day to ask, anyway. And we oughta ask as soon as possible, so we can know for sure when we can work. Thursday’s the only day we’re all free.” Truffle cocked his head. “Unless you’ve already got plans? Maybe we can work around it?” “No.” Silver glanced down at her little brass pin. Technically, she had nothing to cancel. She never actually got the chance to make arrangements for Thursday tea. “No, I’m free that day.” “Gourmet bake sale, you say?” Savoir Faire perused the slim menu. Silver Spoon had spared no expense on presentation, going straight for the printer Father used for dinner invitations. Glossy black paper made the embossed white lettering stand out with class, but not too much flourish. At the top, the event’s title twisted in a beautifully shiny golden font to match the council’s logo. “Soufflé, raspberry chocolate mousse, ricotta cheesecake, crème brûlée…” The Prench stallion smiled with a little chuckle. “My goodness! What ambition for, how you say, such little ponies!” “Merci, Monsieur Savoir Faire. We all worked very hard.” Silver Spoon twirled her braids, shyly looking up with a little smile. She motioned to the menus in her saddlebag. “Could you put a few of these in your restaurant, s’il vous plaît? It would help us quite a bit.” “Encourage ze gourmet culinary arts and help ze school? Oh, oui, mademoiselle. As a gentlecolt, it would be my pleasure.” He gathered the last twenty copies in Silver’s bag and set them on the counter, on top of The Ponyville Express. Wait. Silver took a closer look. The Express wasn’t that thin, and didn’t print headlines in bold, red fonts. In fact, it kind of looked like… She squinted at the story under the menu: THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE’S SECRETS REVEALED!!! Silver blinked in surprise. Mr. Savoir Faire didn’t have any foals. He didn’t have an apprentice or young relatives hanging about either, and this was hardly the hot hangout for Ponyville Elementary. What in Equestria was he doing with a school newspaper? Not just one, either. Front-page reports of a disastrous Cake Family outing poked out from under a coffee pot. The Princess Celestia article sat rolled up in the pocket of a pony busy bussing tables for the breakfast rush. Savoir caught Silver looking and smiled. “If you include ze fancy cakes, perhaps you may attract a certain princess, non?” “Perhaps.” She curtsied to the room and turned to go. “On behalf of the Ponyville Student Council, thank you for the help.” The crisp morning air nipped at Silver’s coat as she trotted past the boutiques and specialty shops en route to Diamond’s house. Rarity waved from her door, still in her fluffy robe and slippers. She had a cup of coffee in her hooves and a copy of The Foal Free Press on her doorstep. “Good morning, Silver Spoon.” Silver grinned and picked up speed. “Morning, Miss Rarity!” On weekends, Carousel Boutique didn’t open until ten. Judging by Rarity’s slippers and half-brushed mane, it had to be a quarter-past eight, at the very worst. “More than late enough for Di to be awake, but still too early for her to leave the house. I’m right on time!” She could still hardly believe it. Gabby Gums pushed The Foal Free Press' circulation to unheard of levels. School project success on this scale hadn’t been seen since Fair Weather got the Wonderbolts to perform at a Wisteria Academy assembly. “We are absolutely having celebration tea today.” Silver patted the bulge in her saddlebag. She’d stayed up late last night making a new can of ginger-rosemary-ginseng, Diamond’s signature blend. “Good thing I came prepared.” The brass gates of the Rich estate glimmered at the bottom of the hill. Silver wondered if Truffle Shuffle bugged Di on the newspaper staff the way he bugged her at student council. Was Berry Pinch a pain, or did she actually learn how to take orders? Did Shady Daze really insist on wearing that atrocious visor? So much to cover from the past two weeks! Juicy news made for a fun read, but it still couldn’t hold a candle to good old-fashioned tea party gossip. Silver Spoon rang the bell, bouncing on her back hooves. She struggled to restrain the unladylike grin growing on her face. The door creaked open. For a moment, Silver wondered if she had the wrong house. A mare Silver had never seen before loomed in the doorway. She had a coat the color of an overripe watermelon and the expression of somepony eating it. Violet mane swooped around her ears in rigid arcs and bandages crisscrossed her muzzle. The gold chain around her neck said “country club”, but its size screamed “pawn shop”. Silver’s smile faded under the harsh stare. Her eyes watered at the scent of hairspray and Prench monkshood perfume. “Well?” The mare stepped forward with confidence; nothing like a visiting aunt or business partner. She belonged here. “What do you want?” “Uh...” Silver glanced away. She’d been staring. “Good morning. Is Diamond Tiara in?” The mare stepped forward. She seemed to take up the whole doorway, if not the whole house. “And you would be?” “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Sterling Silver Spoon, ma’am.” In the shock of it all, Silver had entirely forgotten her manners. She curtseyed, head held high to show her prim little dinner party smile—always a hit with the adults. “I’m a friend of Diamond Tiara’s.” “Silver Spoon…” The mare pricked her ears. “Of the Manehattan Silvers?” “The very same!” A bubble of excitement rose in Silver’s chest. For the first time, somepony in Ponyville finally knew her family! Without prompting?! Tacky necklaces notwithstanding, this pony obviously came from good stock. “I’m sorry if I was rude before, you surprised me. I’m happy to make your acquaintance, Miss…?” “Mrs. Rich. Diamond’s mother.” She softened, offering a polite smile. It made her flinch under the bandages. “I’m afraid I’ve been away for a little while.” “Oh.” Silver thought back to the portrait hanging in Diamond Tiara’s room. Suddenly, the conspiracy surrounding the Family Appreciation Day invitation for Golden Glitter made a lot more sense. Had Di even mentioned another mother? Silver couldn’t remember. “Mrs. Rich, I came over to invite Diamond to morning tea. Is she available?” “You just missed her.” Mrs. Rich gestured towards the stairs. “She left about an hour ago.” Newspaper stuff on a Saturday? Silver frowned. “Do you know when she’ll be back?” Mrs. Rich shook her head, suppressing a yawn. She reached to take a glass of orange juice from a maid and said, “Her father took her up to the office with him, but I’ll tell her you came by.” That meant she could come back any time between three and midnight. Silver’s shoulders slumped. “Alright, thank you anyway.” As she turned to leave, Silver felt her bulging saddlebag and thought of the spare menus crushed between the tea canisters. Mrs. Rich probably knew plenty of ponies on the up-and-up who’d appreciate fine cuisine. Maybe the trip up here didn’t have to be a total waste after all. “Before I go, the Ponyville Schoolhouse Student Council is holding a gourmet bake sale next Friday.” She offered the menu with the least creases. “It’s being held in the square.” Mrs. Rich took a sip of orange juice and examined the menu’s shiny lettering. She blinked slowly. “Student council, you say?” “That’s right, ma’am. We’re raising funds to replace the window broken in the Discord disaster.” “I see.” Mrs. Rich’s eye trailed from the menu to the little council pin on Silver’s bag strap. “Diamond never mentioned you had a student council.” She flicked her tail and hummed. “You’re a member, I assume?” Silver twitched her ears and took a small step back. Something didn’t quite feel right. “Yes, ma’am. I just made Secretary.” “Really! Well then, congratulations, Silver Spoon.” She put the menu aside, never breaking eye contact. “I’m sure your parents must be very proud, considering the circumstances.” “Thank you, ma’am.” Silver’s tail swished close to her legs. She tilted her head and thought a moment before asking, “The circumstances...?” Mrs. Rich shook her head sympathetically. “Such a shame to hear about Laurel’s financial troubles. It’s bound to happen to everypony from time to time, but half the family fortune gone in a year?” She put a hoof to her chest and sighed. “You poor things, I hope you’re doing alright.” “We...” Half the fortune? A sinking feeling grew in Silver Spoon’s chest. She’d known money was a little tight, but… “We are, ma’am. Thank you for, uh… your concern.”   “Think nothing of it, sweetie.” Kneeling down to eye level, Mrs. Rich’s shadow fanned over Silver Spoon’s shoulders. “Please don’t feel too bad. It was all just poor timing, really. A bad situation, no doubt, but for it to happen just when Pitch is aging out of the stage?” She gave a gentle, sympathetic smile. “I just can’t imagine. Concern is the least I can do.” Silver took another step back. She knew it was impolite to fidget with one’s glasses, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “That’s very kind of you to say, ma’am.” “Why so downhearted? Chin up, Silver Spoon.” Mrs. Rich stood back up to full height and took a sip of orange juice. “I’m sure it comforts the Silvers to know that at least their daughter is successful.” The sympathetic little smile swelled into a grin. “It’s not everypony who makes Class Secretary. Congratulations.” “Thank you, Mrs. Rich.” That didn’t really feel like the correct response, but what else could she say? She swallowed the hardening lump in her throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I… I think I should head home now. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rich.” “The pleasure’s all mine, hon!” The syrupy sweetness in her voice hardened. “Oh, and Silver Spoon?” Silver glanced over her shoulder. “Welcome to Ponyville.” The door slammed shut.