Something's Happened to Scootaloo

by inside_joke


Chapter 2: Something in Her Head

Chapter 2: Something in Her Head

The doors opened with a deafening creek, followed by a rush of warmth. The bells had ceased singing, yet their monotone hum hung lazily in the air. All was painfully quiet. The children had all vanished, attending their scheduled classes. Again, Sweetie stood alone in the empty corridor. She knew she was late, and she knew how unpleased Rarity would be, but timeliness wasn’t a concern.

The doors slowly closed, whining in protest, and in that moment, she considered running away; back through town where her home was waiting. She’d never considered playing hooky, but it sounded so tempting. All the stress could be slept away, and by dawn, everything would be normal again.

Looking back at her Cutie Mark, Sweetie grimaced. Ever since the crusaders found their true talents, an unbreakable bond had formed. It was stronger than anything she’d known possible. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were no longer Sweetie’s friends, but sisters. She couldn’t cope with something bad happening to them.

Then she thought of Apple Bloom; how frustrated and upset she’d gotten. It wasn’t like her to snap so easily. Sweetie couldn’t help but feel oblivious, unaware of too many things. But, then again, this all might’ve been a play put on by her anxieties. Maybe all was well.

Breathing deeply, a sense of bliss took form. It was a distant, fading bliss, but any bliss at all was a relief. “Apple Bloom’s right,” she said to no one in particular. “Where ever Scootaloo is, she’s fine.”

Walking down the hall, Sweetie passed rows of lockers and various classes. The wooden floorboards moaned with every step, and placid winds howled outside the windows. It wasn’t long before she came upon Ms. Cheerilee’s room. The door was tall and imposing, hulking over her. Muffled voices radiated beyond it. Composing herself, Sweetie clutched the cold knob. Like a sixth sense, paranoia whispered in her head.

‘Something’s wrong,’ it cooed. ‘Something’s happened. Something’s wrong.’

Sweat pooled along her forehead, her hooves turning clammy. “Everything’s… Everything’s fine,” she whimpered aloud. Sweetie seldom lied. But she’d never lied to herself before.

Closing her eyes and holding her breath, she opened the door. Fouls sat idly at their seats, talking amongst one another. Cheerilee stood before the chalkboard, preparing a schedule for the day. No one seemed to acknowledge Sweetie’s entrance.

Through the chattering of classroom ambiance, she could only hear muffled sounds. Everything was laced in a muddy outline, snuffing her senses. Standing oddly in the doorway, Cheerilie’s eyes veered towards Sweetie’s. ”Oh, Sweetie Belle,” she chimed. “Good thing you arrived when you did. I was just about to take attendance.”

Cheerilie then noticed an off-putting tension, radiating from Sweetie Belle. Slowly but surely, the students stopped speaking, turning their attention to her. She stood a mere five feet away, yet hardly existed in the room. It was like staring at a ghost. Within seconds, silence overcame them.

Cheerilie spoke again, a concerned tinge in her voice. “Sweetie Belle, is something the matter?”

At first, she hadn’t heard the question. Sweetie’s focus burned on an empty desk in the rear of the room. Beside it, Apple Bloom slouched in her own desk. Her eyes were like desolate windows on a desolate shack.

Scootaloo wasn’t there.

Sweetie felt a hoof brush her shoulder. She jumped. Cheerilie suddenly stood at her side. The entire class, minus Apple Bloom, was staring. “You seem sick, Sweetie Belle,” she said, speaking quietly. “Would you like to see the nurse? I don’t want you at school if you aren’t feeling well.” Cheerilie’s words wavered in worry. Sweetie had never looked so pail.

She gulped, mustering a response: “Thank you, Ms. Cheerilie. I’m fine. It’s just a stomach ache.” Sweetie spun on her hooves, trotting across the room. An array of eyes followed her to her desk. Cheerilie wasn’t given a chance to reply.

“Alright, then…” she said, scratching her mane. “Anyways, now that everyone’s here, let’s get attendance over with, shall we?”

Sweetie made her way to the classroom’s rear. A trio of desks sat before her; Apple Bloom occupied the furthest one. Hunched and morbidly still, they traded glances. Her eyes were lined in guilt. Sweetie forced a meek, tired smile. Apple Bloom grinned in response, but it was a far cry from her stern, adventurous demeanor.

Sweetie sat in the chair beside her, leaving an open seat between herself and Apple Bloom. She wouldn’t dare look at that desk.
Cheerilie grabbed a clipboard from the counter, proceeding to call out each student’s name.

“Diamond Tiara?”

“Here.”

“Silver Spoon?”

“Here.”

Sweetie gripped the lip of her desk, grinding her teeth and bouncing her leg.

“Snips? Snails?

“Here!”

“Here!”

She could feel her gut contorting, folding into itself. Apple Bloom’s posture was nearly perfect, a cold look in her eye. Methodically, she scraped a hoof along the counter, carving thin circles in the wood. They waited for something. Something to happen. They just didn’t know what.

“Twist?”

“Here.”

“Button Mash?”

“Here.”

Sweetie fidgeted in her seat, swallowing lumps in her throat. She was on the brink of exploding.

“Apple Bloom?”

“Here…” she croaked.

“Sweetie Belle’s here,” Cheerilie muttered, checking off another name on the clipboard.

Suddenly, the pitter-patter of hooves sounded from down the hallway. Sweetie’s heart skipped a dozen beats. Withholding an urge to scream, she waited with baited breath. Apple Bloom was equally tentative, watching the door as if her life depended on it.

The quick, rhythmic steps grew closer. “Sounds like someone’s a little late,” Cheerilie joked. The class chuckled, blissfully unaware and unconcerned.

Closer and closer, echoing footfalls ran just beyond the wall. Sweetie couldn’t hold in her smile, tears welling in her eyes.
It was only inches away.

The door flung opened with an explosion of force. Everyone’s attention fell upon a small colt, panting hysterically in the doorway. His coat was a matted, sweaty mess, accompanied by an equally disheveled mane. His glassy, globular eyes ran across the faces in the room. “Oh, Rumble.” Ms. Cheerilie grinned coyly. “Run into any trouble on your way to school?”

Amidst the class’s laughter, Sweetie could feel her brain peeling away at the seams. Her grin snapped into a hopeless state of shock. Apple Bloom had already sunken back into her seat.

Rumble stared oddly, as if he were sleep walking, oblivious to the world around him. Sweetie didn’t know the boy well, but she saw something in those giant, purple eyes of his. Something she found unsettling. He slowly walked to an empty desk, shaking snow out of his mane. Cheerilie checked off another name on the list.

“Alright, is Scootaloo here?” she asked aloud.

The most painful silence reigned.