//------------------------------// // The Note // Story: The Watcher in the Halls // by knightcommander //------------------------------// THE WATCHER IN THE HALLS By Knightcommander Chapter One: The Note Sweetie Belle absolutely hated Mondays. Why? Well, the reason was quite simple; school, and it was no longer like the happy days when she attended class with Miss Cheerilee. Oh, how she loved that little one room schoolhouse and her perpetually happy teacher. Miss Cheerilee wasn't just a teacher, she was one of the few adults she could say was a friend. She was never without a kind word or piece of wisdom to impart to her students, especially to Sweetie Belle and her friends. Whenever they were having a problem with Diamond Tiara and her sycophant friend Silver Spoon, she was the first to come and try and lift their spirits. When disciplining, she was always firm but also fair. Gosh, how she missed having classes with her. And how she missed having class at that little schoolhouse. Everything was simpler back then. She didn't have to navigate the halls, or dodge crowds or remember room numbers. She didn't have to deal with the stupid cliques who took pleasure in laughing at those who didn't belong; like she wanted to join one anyway. She didn't have to deal with the scene kids who hypocritically waxed philosophical about how harsh their life was when they lived in well-to-do homes with pretty much everything they could ever ask for. She didn't have to deal with the meatheaded jocks who constantly bragged about how many points they scored or how many "wimps" they tackled on the field and who were so completely dumb they had to pay other ponies to do their homework for them; twenty bits for a physics paper? Good grief! No, all she had to worry about back then was whether or not they were having a test, or whether recess was going to be cancelled, or they were having beansprouts for lunch again. It was so much simpler back then. Oh, how Sweetie Belle hated high school! She grumbled as she slammed her hoof into the alarm clock that was blaring its horrendous wake-up call. She rubbed her eyes and tried to force the haze from her mind. Stubborn as it always was, she would just have to wait until she took her morning coffee. The thought of that was enough motivation to drag herself out of bed and into the bathroom to wash up. She took a look at herself in the mirror. "Bleh." She mutterd. Her purple and pink mane was a mess of tangles and snarls. It would be heck trying to get those out. Her eyes had obvious bags under them, and drooped so much one could easily mistake her for a basset hound were it not for the horn which emerged from her head. Grumbling, she turned on the hot water of the guest room's bathroom and climbed in. The hot water of the shower washed over her and felt like a warm blanket. She allowed herself a small smile at the feeling before proceeding to wash herself clean with shampoo all over. Stepping out after finishing, she felt like a new mare. At least some of the tiredness left her, and her mane looked better. She picked up a brush and began to brush her mane, styling it in her usual curly style. Most mares her age tried to get rid of their curls, but she loved them. Her sister Rarity agreed, and she knew something about looking good. Finally somewhat awake, she walked down the stairs that took her to Carousel Boutique's living area. Her parents were once again out of town, forced away by some stupid seminar that her father, a retired professional athlete and now a marketing executive, was forced to attend. She hated it when they had to go away. She loved being around her parents, despite that unwritten rule that all teenagers were supposed to hate their parents. They were absolutely hilarious, she thought, and she loved watching their antics even if she didn't always show it. However, her sister Rarity was always willing to take her in when they were gone, and Sweetie appreciated the time they had, seeing as how she rarely got to see her with both school and Rarity's hectic schedule. "Good morning, Sweetie Belle!" The aforementioned mare said, passing over a cup of freshly brewed coffee to her. Sweetie Belle gratefully took it, taking a moment to savor the taste as she downed her first gulp. Her mind seemed to instantly clear as the liquid poured down her throat and warmed her tummy. She sighed with content. "Mornin', Rarity." She replied. Rarity offered her some freshly made pancakes, which she gratefully accepted. Not bothering for subtlety, she wolfed them down quickly and wiped her mouth. Rarity winced a bit at her lack of grace, but that was the way it always was in the morning. The poor filly as always in such a hurry in the morning. "Careful, you might get an upset stomach." She warned. Sweetie Belle finished off her coffee and grinned. "I'll be alright." She said. "I haven't gotten sick yet, except when it comes time for finals." Or whenever I have to go to biology class with Diamond Tiara, she thought. After finishing her breakfast, Rarity having insisted she eat a second helping, she grabbed her saddlebags and slung them over her back. She took a moment to look at the clasp. It was turquoise musical note capped with a pink gemstone; the same as her cutie mark. She smiled. Her cutie mark was something that was a source of pride for her when she finally earned it. Who knew that the thing that had once scared her horribly, namely singing in front of others, would be her special talent. Now she loved it. "Have a good day." Rarity said, giving her sister a peck on the cheek. Sweetie smiled a bit before stepping out the door, waving goodbye. She sighed as the door closed. She hoped this day would at least be somewhat bearable. *** It was a long walk to the large, sprawling Ponyville High School; a red brick monstrosity just outside town. Sweetie Belle had been coming here for a year now. Her freshman year had been pretty much a nightmare; not by anything anyone did in particular (though Diamond Tiara didn't help) but having to try and master the complexities of the mini-society that seemingly existed inside the school's walls. Sweetie Belle and her friends were often appalled at the utter superficiality and lack of maturity the other kids exhibited. Everyone seemed to be more concerned with making themselves look good in the eyes of their peers than in actually doing things that would get them places in life, like getting good grades or working. Scootaloo in particular, despite the "perky goth" style she had adopted in recent years, held a particular disdain for the scene kids and their hypocritically bleak outlook on life, despite the fact that many of them had good homes and loving parents and comfortable lives. Sweetie Belle sighed as she opened the door to the school and saw one thing that she definitely did not want to see in the morning; a bunch of ditzy cheerleaders giggling as they gossiped about everyone else's hair, clothes and even choice of music. Sweetie groaned. She hated the gossip mongering. It was like no one bothered to even try to learn about what a pony was really like, they just threw around unsubstantiated rumors as though it had no effect on anything. What was worse was that she knew these gossip mongers, and they knew her... and they liked her for some reason. "Sweetie Belle!" The lead one, a purple mare named Ivory Wings, chirped as Sweetie Belle passed, smiling stupidly at her. She groaned again. Oh for goodness sake, please leave me alone, She thought, I don't have time for this. She turned to them. "Hey Ivory." She said weakly. "Me and the girls are going to the Hoofington Mall later." She said. "Wanna come with?" Sweetie Belle shook her head. She decided did not want to go anywhere with them. "Sorry, but I have stuff to do later." She replied, walking away before the ditz could even respond. She groaned loudly when she was sure they were out of earshot. When she finally reached her locker, she slammed the door with her hoof. She didn't want to be a part of the in-crowd. She wanted to be Sweetie Belle and nothing more. Sure, she was on the lower rung of the social ladder, but she liked it. She didn't have to worry about how she looked or who her friends where or whatever else the in-crowd worried about. All she had to worry about was whether or not her homework was done, or her lunch was packed, or whether there was going to be a test soon. And also about the one typical thing all fillies her age worried about; colts. Apple Bloom didn't have to worry about it. She was still dating Pipsqueak, who Sweetie had to admit had grown up to be a pretty good looking colt with a great personality and sweet disposition. Sweetie sometimes felt a bit jealous that she was able to land him, but was happy for her nonetheless. Scootaloo she wasn't sure about, though the letters she had been exchanging with her pen pal in Cloudsdale were growing more frequent, and she knew for a fact said pen pal was a colt. What was his name again? She could never remember it, even though she probably should, seeing as how he survived... her train of thought was interrupted when she saw something flutter to the floor, apparently having been jarred loose by her pounding of her locker. She picked it up. It was a note of some kind, sealed with red wax. "Weird." She said out loud. It couldn't have come from Apple Bloom or Scootaloo. They never passed notes anyway. Who would be writing to her? Maybe it was another one of Diamond Tiara's pranks. Yeah, that had to be it, although it certainly wouldn't hurt to ask. Featherweight might know; he had the locker right next to her. Sure enough, the skinny buck-toothed colt appeared, looking even more harried and harassed than usual. He must have another tight deadline at the paper. Sweetie Belle thought. "Hey, Featherweight." She said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Heh?" He asked. "Oh, hey Sweetie Belle." He said. He quickly stuffed his camera in the locker. "You alright?" She asked. He nodded. "Fine, just in a rush." He said. "Oh. Well, I won't keep you then, I just need to know if you saw someone at my locker this morning." He shook his head. "Nope, I just got here. I couldn't tell you." She nodded. "Thanks anyway." She said. Featherweight apologized before fluttering off to class. She looked at the note. "Might as well open it." She broke the wax seal and unfolded the paper. She was surprised to see not a simple note, but a letter written in flourishing script. Sweetie Belle, I have been wanting to do this for the longest time now. I fear that whatever I may put down in this letter will never, ever describe just deeply I feel for you. I look into your eyes and I see an angel. I can feel the kindness and sweetness in your heart exuding through every sparkle in them. I've never looked upon such pure beauty and goodness before, and I don't think I ever will again. Every time I see you, my heart is lit on fire. I feel weak and I can't focus on anything but that smile. My heart is burning just writing these words and thinking about that smile I've come to love so much. Oh heavens, how I long to be able to hold you in my arms, to kiss your lips, to hear your sweet voice saying sweet nothings to me! There are days it hurts sometimes, loving you so much but not being able to be loved in return. Sometimes, I dream of you. It feels so real, I don't want to wake up, only to wake up anyway and be reminded that none of it was real. Oh how I wish it were so! For the longest time, I have been standing here, watching you as you pass me, wondering how I was going to tell you all this, all the things I felt and the dreams that I have had. I finally decided that this is the best way to approach you. I want you to know how I feel about you. Simply standing here and loving you from afar I can no longer bear. I can only hope that you will respond, even if it is to refuse me. At least I will know. I love you so much, Sweetie Belle, more than I can possibly describe in feeble words. I only hope I can give the heart that burns for you every day. With Deepest Love, The Watcher in the Halls Sweetie Belle was blushing furiously when she reached the end of the letter. Her mind was racing with a thousand thoughts. Who was this? Did they really love her? Was this just some crazy stalker who had dark designs on her and was trying to play her? She didn't know what to do. She was simultaneously scared and intrigued. But what should she do? "Hey, Sweetie Belle!" A familiar voice called out. She turned her head to see her friend Scootaloo approaching. Scootaloo had changed a great bit since her days as a filly. Now she never failed to turn the heads of the colts in the hall, which led to poor Scoots bitterly complaining about how many colts were drooling over her flank when they thought she wasn't paying attention. In keeping with her "perky goth" style, her purple mane was dyed with black stripes, and she had pierced tongue and a small stud in her nose. She even wore black leg warmers on all four legs. Her cutie mark, which was as proud as Sweetie to have finally earned, was a skateboard wheel trailing red and yellow flames. Sweetie Belle liked the style. She felt it suited Scootaloo well, who despite her tomboyish nature could be very sweet and was never without a smile on her face. "Oh, hi Scootaloo." She replied. She quickly stuffed the letter in her locker. "What's up." "What's up is Apple Bloom and I are waiting for ya in home room." She said. One of the few perks she had in high school so far is that she had home room with her friends; Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, as well as Apple Bloom's old friend Twist, Pipsqueak and Dinky Hooves. "Oh, right, I'm sorry." She said apologetically. "I just got held up." Scootaloo was confused. "By what?" Sweetie Belle grinned sheepishly. "Well, I'll tell you after school." She said. "It's kinda weird." Scootaloo was definitely curious now, but she knew better than to push it. "OK, if you want." She said. "But just know you can talk about anything with us." She gave Sweetie Belle a smile, which she returned. "Thanks." She answered, as the two left for home room.