//------------------------------//
// -12- Tuesday Part: Six 
// Story: The Anthropologist 
// by Weavers of Dreams 
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"Come on, Tuesdays aren't bad," Lyra told protested.

"Oh yeah? Name one good thing about them?"

"It's the day that time began," Lyra said matter-of-factly. "Not many people know that you know."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"Well, all you have to do is prove me wrong," she returned with a mischievous grin.

"Do all of your predictions have an accuracy of up to three days?"

"All except that one summer five or so years ago," Lyra said, making a dramatic show of thinking back. That got her a laugh.

"W-well, when are you gonna be able to predict the future?"

"Next Monday." She was rewarded with an even bigger laugh. "Try and tell me Tuesdays are bad now, Timmy."

The young boy in his tweens chuckled and shook his head. "You win, doc."

"As usual," Lyra said with absolutely no hint of modesty. "So, today's going to be really simple. This is mainly just a required formality, I'm just going to ask you a few questions about your new family, and how you're adjusting."

"The Cakes are very nice," Timmy replied with a grin. "Mr. Cake even took me fishing yesterday."

"Well, they gotta make sure that the latest addition to their growing family get's his protein." Lyra wrote that down. "Fishing is always is great bonding experience between a father and child. I remember my father taking me on several little trips." She leaned forward and put a hoof to the side of her muzzle as if telling a secret. "Of course, we made sure mama was out of the house so we could cook and eat it."

"Mrs. Cake didn't say anything but she did look a little green," Timmy said thoughtfully.

"Unless pregnant, most mares have an aversion to fish," Lyra said with a chuckle at certain memories. She put a hoof to her chest and tipped her chin up proudly. "I, of course, am one of the few exceptions to that." She chuckled to herself, while Timmy appeared nonplussed. "I also see you still call them Mr. and Mrs. Cake. May I ask why?"

Timmy got a faraway look in his eye and he looked aside. "Well. I'm still getting used to the idea of living in one place, instead of jumping from foster to foster home."

"Have they expressed any dissatisfaction with this?"

"Well, they haven't really said anything, but Mrs. Cake seems to sigh a lot," he replied, scratching the back of his head.

"Good," Lyra said, writing something down. "That means they're not trying to pressure you into anything."

"It kind of feels like I'm disappointing them, though," Timmy said in a guilty tone.

"Then what's holding you back?" Lyra inquired, leaning back and placing her front hooves together patiently.

Timmy thought for a moment before replying. "Have you ever... have you ever had some people, or ponies, tell you that they were your best friends, build you up, fill you with hope, and then are invited to a  party, or whatever..."

"...And then they pull the rug out from under you just so they can laugh at your misery," Lyra finished for him, a dark scowl etched on her brow. She clenched her jaw as she repressed baring her teeth. "It's amongst one of the most wicked things in the world."

"Miss Heartstrings?" Timmy asked, growing nervous as he watched her tremble a little.

"I think that's enough for today, Timmy," she replied in a low tone. "I'm going to make a house call at Sugarcube Corner on Saturday. I'll put you all through a couple bonding exercises to help you get over your fear. Rest assured, Timmy, the Cakes would never do such a thing to one they love so much."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," came the all too eerily calm response. "Run along home, Timmy. Give your family some hugs and kisses, and I shall see you Saturday."

Timmy hesitantly got up and then left in a hurry, leaving the good doctor alone in silence.

After a few minutes, Lyra used her magic to ensure the door was locked before she sniffed loudly and curled up in a ball to cry. She wanted to scream, but all that would come out were little sobs that made her want to throw up. Two simple phrases were all she could manage.

"I'm so sorry, big brother. Please f-forgive me."