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// Chapter 24 - Touchy Subjects 
// Story: Roads of Life 
// by PonyWrites 
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	Ordinarily, Scooter would get ready for the day by putting on a binder around his chest, and put his packer in. Be the boy he felt like. But Scooter wasn’t here right now, having taken leave for the moment. Instead the scared and anxious girl had returned. She hadn’t slept at all since her birthday yesterday. She popped a pill in her mouth and decided she needed to take a shower. Best to not look like she had been through the wringer today. It was the most depressing shower ever. She just stood under the water and tried not to melt. She didn’t feel like eating breakfast but did have a glass of pickle juice. Fucking hormones. 
        Fortunately the clinic was a mile or two away. She had argued with herself about whether she wanted to do this. The answer kept being the same. It didn’t open for another thirty minutes but it would take that amount of time to walk to it. She shrugged on a coat against the morning chill and started putting one foot in front of the other. 
        Sweetie would be supportive of this decision. Apple Bloom wouldn’t agree but oh well, their friendship would probably be safe. Scootaloo wasn’t really sure about Rumble, but considering he fainted when he heard the news he’d probably be 100% on board. Then there was the issue of who would take care of it. All of them? Rumble? Would they have to get married? Ugh. 
        Walk in with a mass of cells in your womb, walk out without it. Simple, right? Scootaloo half-expected this--something else to go wrong. That was the way her life seemed to work. Something else attempts to screw her over. And it usually succeeded. 
        The protest group nearly made her retch. Of course, more and more things were doing that now. They carried signs, calling her sexual practices a sin. Something about the end being close, and adulterers filling the streets. Pretty standard stuff really.
        This was the nail in the coffin. It was all her fault she was in this situation and her mother was right and God was mad at her. Everything she’d ever done had been a mistake. She loved the wrong person. Rumble’s child was germinating inside her so she obviously loved him. That’s how that worked right? She wasn’t transgender she was just in denial. And now she was paying the consequences for her proclivities. She didn’t respect her family enough and now was paying for it. She ran for a couple blocks and found an unfamiliar coffee shop. She decided to go in and try to calm down, her SSRI reminding her to not freak out. It sort of worked. She ordered the most sugary thing she could think of. She used her original name, noting the irony of having it legally changed the day before. 
        When the barista called her she felt oddly self-conscious like somebody was watching her. She realized what it was as she turned back to her table. The protest was still in view. She made a deliberate point to not look out the window. She didn’t drink her coffee, just sat and stared. So entranced was she by the act of counting the cinnamon grains, she didn’t notice somebody sat down beside her. 
        “Yo.” A deep voice rumbled. Scootaloo looked up and saw Apple Bloom’s brother. 
        “Oh, hey. What are you doing here.” She couldn’t even inflect enough to make it a question.
        “I like the coffee here.”
        “Okay.”
        What happens when two reserved people attempt to have a conversation? Mostly silence. “What are you doing here?” Big Mac asked.
        “I… Well I was on my way to Planned Parenthood.”
        Mac glanced out the window. “I see.” There wasn’t any judgement in his voice, even though the Apples shared the belief that life began at conception, and all life was sacred. Scootaloo both admired and despised the philosophy at the same time. Admired because it sprang from a deep affection of their fellow people, hated because she didn’t want to deal with Apple Bloom sermonizing her after she did this. Well, she couldn’t right now. The good thing to do, make everyone happy except her, was to carry it.
        “So you’re going by Scootaloo again?”
        “I’m obviously a girl. Boys can’t get pregnant.”
        “Listen. Those protesters aren’t you. They don’t know what you’ve been through. They think this is an easy decision. I don’t even know, personally. I don’t think it would be. But they don’t think of you, or people like you, or Ma, or even my sisters as respectable people. And that’s a shame, cuz I know you are. And sometimes, accidents happen to good people. It doesn’t mean we should pay for them the rest of our life. I’ll let you in on a secret. I’m only Applejack’s half-brother. I never knew my actual father, but Dad didn’t care about that none and raised me as one of his own. I only found out after reading his diary when he passed.” Scootaloo started doing some math in his head. “I honestly don’t even care who it was. Ma was young and in love and mistakes happened a lot more, because of the culture. I can’t blame him for running away. Sometimes you’re just not ready. Perhaps one day, he grew up,” Big Mac stopped in the middle of the sentence. Scootaloo had been around him long enough to know he had gotten off his own topic and needed to regroup. “What I’m trying to say is don’t make life hard on yourself just because somebody thinks you need to do something. Havin’... that... done… doesn’t mean you’re running from your problems. Quite the opposite. I think you’re facing them with all the courage you have.”
        Scootaloo had finished her coffee by then and it filled her with new life. She gave Big Mac a hug and thanked him before rushing out the door. Big Mac loped behind, wondering how this was going to go down. 
        
        Scooter marched up to the protesters and attempted to walk in the front door. Dignity demanded no less. Well, that was all well and good except he was cut off at every attempt. She was trying to use her agility to her advantage, but fell powerless to the sheer number of bodies blocking the way. Then one protester made the grave mistake of trying to tell him why he was unholy. “You can’t keep running away, you have to take responsibility!” The protester was probably twenty, pencil thin beard and a trilby. “Do you really want to murder your unborn child?”
        “Yes.”
        The protester blinked. Clearly he was not expecting her to say it outright. “But children are a gift from God! And those that do murder shall have no place in heaven.”
        Scootaloo just shook her head. He grabbed the dumb tie he was wearing and yanked him down to her eye level. “Alright, listen here you stupid fuck. I don’t care about heaven. I don’t even care about Hell.  I can write a book on all the sodomy I’ve committed. Not only have I had sex out of wedlock, I’ve had lesbian orgies the likes of which you can only masturbate to before begging for forgiveness. You think I’m irresponsible? A whore? No. I love all my partners dearly. I’ve been kicked out of my house for that deep, profound love you only dream about. I nearly committed suicide from rhetorical bullshit people like you spew. I’ve come too far to give two shits about what any one of you think about it. I’m not running away from my ‘mistakes’. This is me, facing my life on my feet, and choosing the best path.” Scootaloo gave him a kiss before shoving him out of the way and walking through the front door. Big Mac looked on with a quiet glee. 

        After it was all said and done, Scooter slinked back to his room feeling different, but oddly not happy. It was over. Done. He should be excited, right? One less burden. Eh, whatever. He debated taking another SSRI but since the one he took this morning was warding off all suicide attempts he resisted. Eh. It was just eh. Like depression but lighter. The French might have had a word for that. They always had a word for feeling terrible. 
        After god knows how long somebody knocked on his door. He grunted.
        The door opened and Apple Bloom walked in, looking oddly cheerful. But really that girl was always smiling. Even when she bit your head off. She was carrying something. Scooter was confused by her presence. 
        “I baked you a cobbler.” She said, pensively.
        That perked him right up. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.” Apple Bloom set the dish on the side of the bed and removed the foil. Heaven existed in a 10 inch square pan. Geysers of steam rolled off, carrying the aroma of blackberries. Scooter managed to resist the urge to kiss her. There couldn’t be any of that now. “Let’s eat in the kitchen like civilized folk,” he suggested, imitating her.
        “Alright.”
        So they moved and Scooter got out two bowls and spoons and got some ice cream from the freezer. Apple Bloom doled out a generous portion for each of them and Scooter piled on the ice cream. The dairy melted and the velvet cream mixed with the blackberry syrup. “Not to sound like an ungrateful prick, but why are you here?” Scooter asked after his first spoonful of nirvana.
        “I’d thought you’d need cheering up. I think I was right.” 
        “Yeah. I did.”
        “Do you want to talk about it?”
        Scooter inhaled deeply. “Yeah, I guess I should. But I don’t really know. I thought it would be different somehow. More… painful? More emotionally traumatising?”
        “Well, I know I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t handle it. But I respect your decision. And, well, ya know. Boys don’t get pregnant.”
        “Hopefully this means I’ll stop drinking pickle juice.” They had a laugh. 
        “That’s so gross.” Apple Bloom said, still chortling. 
        “These past couple weeks it’s felt like I haven’t been in my own body. With all the weird hormones and shit. I’ll probably be back to normal in a couple days.” 
        “If you need anything just call us. Even a hug. I’ve got nothing but love for you.”
        Scooter couldn’t quite articulate what he wanted to say. How much her respect meant to him. How, when everyone else just judged him, she didn’t. How she cared, how she smiled. How she didn’t want anybody to get hurt.
        “Apple Bloom. Thank you.”
        “Aww, the cobbler weren’t nothin’”
        Scooter smiled, his teeth unseemly purple from the dessert. “You know what I mean, dork.”
        “Ya don’t need to thank me. I’m just being a friend.”
        “Can’t I just appreciate you?” Scooter rolled his eyes.
        “Oh alright.”
        “You wanna watch a movie or something?”
        The statement behind the question was a little obvious. Don’t leave yet, please.
        “I’ll stay as long as you want.”
        The movie was an action flick but Scooter’s hormones were still in full swing and he ended up bawling when the romantic interest died. It was just as likely that there was some other tension involved, but Apple Bloom didn’t press it. Instead, she gently squeezed her friend’s shoulder as he cried. They cleared the cobbler in that time, Scooter eating the most. 
        Apple Bloom started to go home but Scooter protested. “Can… can you stay here tonight?”
        Well, really, she had things to do. Chores, mostly. Applejack would likely understand. This responsibility was way bigger than farm work though. There was one legitimate concern, however. “What would Sweetie think?”
        “It’s not like anything’s gonna happen.”
        “Well, she is a tiny bit possessive. Maybe we could bring her over and make it a sleepover?”
        Scooter instantly became nervous. She hadn’t heard from Sweetie all day, now that he thought about it. “Why didn’t she come? Why hasn’t she called? Does she hate me?”
        Apple Bloom had limited patience but was a master at acting like she didn’t. “I don’t even think she knew. The only reason I heard about it was cuz you ran into my brother.”
        “True. She has been busy. I'll call her.” He picked the phone out of his pocket and tapped it a few times to dial “Sweetie Bea <3333 Waifu” His emotional pendulum swung back when she answered. “DO you hate meeeeeee,” he bawled. 
        “What?” Sweetie asked.
        “I did--- I did the thing and now everybody hates me and Apple Bloom is here and she’s just hiding it well. I think Rainbow Dash hates me what do I do.”
        “Do you hear the words that are coming out of your mouth?”
        “You’re right I’m being silly.”
        “Scoots, I don’t think mood swings are that fast.” Sweetie sighed. “Whatever, I’m coming over. Put Apple Bloom on.” He passed the cell to her and mouthed “I think she hates you.” The farmer pinched the bridge of her nose.
        “Yo.”
        “Apple Bloom, defcon four. Oh and don’t slap him if he’s being silly. That will only make it worse.”
        “Understood.”
        “Over and out.” Since their friend was suicidal, Sweetie, Bloom and Rumble came up with a similar ranking of threat levels to the military. Five was no threat, one was impending danger. Four was basically just to be on guard and don’t leave him alone too long. Restraints may be necessary. 
        Apple Bloom handed the phone back. “She just wanted to be sure I knew my place.”
        “I told you she hates you.”
        “Eh, she’ll get over it.” 
        Scooter realized how ridiculous he was being, thinking everybody hated him, and instead began to meditate, breathing in and out and focusing on nothing else. That flew out the window once again when Sweetie arrived. He practically tackled her in a hug, sobbing “I knew you didn’t hate me!” 
        “I’d never hate you; you goof.”
        She shot Apple Bloom a quizzical expression, but the farmer only shrugged. Eventually Scooter calmed down but he didn’t leave Sweetie’s side. Sweetie imagined the hormonal imbalance was kicking her boyfriend around like a soccer ball. They were getting too big for the twin bed, so they commandeered the camping pads and made a bed out of that and some blankets. Scooter was encased on both sides by his best friends (and girlfriend), and felt comfortable and safe. 
        Scootaloo woke up in intense pain.