“Girls, girls!” Sweetie Belle called out as Scootaloo and Apple Bloom went up the path towards school.
“What's the matter?”
“I have great news, you won't believe it!”
“Rainbow Dash is finally getting her medal?”
Sweetie Belle almost felt her mane deflate at that. “Umm, no, Scootaloo.”
Apple Bloom gasped. “Princess Celestia's gonna tear down Twilight's castle?”
And there came that familiar confusion. She loved her friends for that: the randomness kept her on her toes. Or it would have, if she had any toes. “Why would she do that?”
“Well, it's against public ordinance and housing regulations, ain't it?”
Sweetie Belle groaned. “Is this about the water main thing again? You do know your family can't sue her for that, right?”
“We'll see what the Equestrian Appeals Court has to say about that; it's a legitimate grievance and I have the right to file it. Besides, Twilight ain't had any time for us ever since she started takin' orders from her table. It's bad enough she does, but she's dragged my sister along in it, too. And yours, and even Rainbow Dash.”
Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “Twilight does not take orders from a table, Apple Bloom. It was given to her by the Tree of Harmony.”
Apple Bloom squinted. “So she's takin' orders from a tree.”
Again, Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “Well, yes. But it's a magical tree that knows whenever there's a friendship problem. It's destiny and stuff.”
“Uhuh. It's a magical tree that can't be bothered to, you know, talk, or call the Royal Guard, or any police, or find a wanted criminal, or stop that criminal from travellin' through time using the same table it's using to tell Twilight where to go, and that's just what she's admittin' to. And even that’s a violation of ponies’ privacy. That castle oughtta get torn down by now.”
“I thought you liked that castle?” Scootaloo asked.
“I did at first, but now it's just so tacky. And have you seen Twilight lately? She's gone and started callin' herself the 'Princess of Friendship' now, when she used to be all ‘I ain’t more important than any other pony’. That place ain't couth, I tell ya. Besides, rustic interior décor is makin' a comeback this year. Crystals are so last season now.”
Sweetie Belle let out one of the Rarity-grunts she'd been practising on. It came out sounding like a very good impression. “Ugh. You need to stop reading Fetlocks and Farmhouses Magazine.”
“How do you know you don't need to start readin' it, Sweetie Belle?”
“Are you girls arguing again?” Rumble asked. Exactly when he had appeared, they couldn't tell.
Sweetie Belle froze, and part of her wondered if maybe they couldn't fit the boy with a harness, like they did with flying white-tail deer. The jingling bells would at least announce his presence. Then again, he’d probably look weird with that many straps. She filed that thought away for future pondering. “Umm... no?”
“It sure sounded like it. What's going on?”
“Sweetie Belle said she had big news. But it’s not about Twilight's castle. So what is it about?” Apple Bloom turned to her friend and smiled brightly, as she always did when she’d managed to get the last word in in a Cutie Mark Crusader Argument (‘Yay’ optional). It wasn’t a fair victory, but then she wasn’t a professional cutie marked arguer, so she took it.
Rumble's ears perked. Sweetie Belle winced and averted her eyes. After her encounter with Fancy Pants last night, she couldn't bear the idea that she'd treat Rumble with any less respect than that. She knew that’s what he wanted, deep down, to be regarded like a Wonderbolt stallion. But he was so girly, he could never put that much power into his voice or his body language. Even a mare would be more intimidating than him, with his smooth, almost non-existent filly-ish chin, and his slender build. He really needed a cutie mark to stand out: something flashy, something imposing. Something that could compensate for the rest of him.
Barring that, he could do with some pointers from girls who had experience with boys like him.
Fortunately, right as Sweetie Belle was about to make something up, the bell sounded.
“Girls!” Miss Cheerilee called out. “Class is starting!”
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo turned towards the building. Sweetie Belle took a step, then stopped and looked at Rumble, who trudged along with her, two steps behind.
“Umm, Rumble?” she asked.
“What?”
She bit her lip. “Good luck with the show and tell today.”
He chuckled. “It's only in the last period, Sweetie Belle.”
“I know. But still, good luck. In case I forget.”
“Thanks.”
Conspiring used to be so much easier, Sweetie Belle thought. Ponies didn't know the girls well enough to be aware of their schemes, they underestimated what resources the girls could muster, but most importantly: they didn't have as many friends. Strange how their expanded social circle was a hindrance now.
Rumble was always around them now, or rather around Scootaloo. Or rather, Scootaloo was always around him, asking for more demonstrations of how to do a tumble in mid-air, or how to make a tornado.
Because Scootaloo wanted to surprise Rainbow Dash sometime by making a tornado.
Rumble, however, did not feel comfortable teaching Scootaloo how to make a tornado.
Rumble was a smart kid like that.
But at any rate, their newfound amigo, compadre, and laundry list of synonyms courtesy of their chicken-winged filly-shaped thesaurus, was always too close for Sweetie Belle to speak to them in private. She found herself forced to wait until after school.
Although, when his turn came to do a show and tell, she didn't mind the delay so much.
Rumble was, after all, a nice-looking boy, in every sense of the word. He looked girly, sure, but at least he didn't look unkempt or sloppy. His dark grey mane was always combed back neatly, his hooves and tail groomed to aerodynamic perfection, and today was no exception. She kept forgetting to ask him about what conditioner he used, since whatever it was made his coat look shiny and soft.
“Okay, class, that just leaves us with enough time for the show and tell. Rumble, if you please,” Cheerilee said.
Rumble hopped out of his seat and floated over his desk, landing in front of the class with hardly a sound. He had a pair of rocks in his right hoof. He took one and held it up. “I brought my wingstone for show and tell today. It's a grooming implement for pegasi,” he narrated, clearly a memorised text.
Cheerilee nodded and jotted down some notes about Rumble's performance. He was being graded for this, after all.
Sweetie Belle's eyes darted from her teacher to the boy, and she judged him in a reflex. No stage fright, that was a plus. No stuttering, good look at his audience, he was a natural. Then again, chances were his grades were pretty good, too, considering everything else they knew about him. It would be strange if he was that intense and dedicated about everything, yet failed at schoolwork.
Or it would make perfect sense, if he was aspiring to be like Rainbow Dash. Sweetie Belle pushed that thought away.
“This is what we pegasus ponies use to sharpen our wings. It's not really a rock, but more like a soap block, specially made from tree ashes and shavings, and then mashed together like a diamond. The exact recipes for making wingstones are tribal and trade secrets; the Wonderbolts even have their own kind to make their wings sharp enough to cut dragon scales.”
Sweetie Belle gulped. She remembered Spike's first birthday in Ponyville all too well. Poor guy, she never did find out if that had hurt at all. She couldn't imagine it didn't.
“Most other ponies use this: a hoofstone.” He got out another stone. “This is what you use to treat your hooves and make them smooth.”
An awkward silence fell over the class. Sweetie's ears twitched at the tension in the air.
Rumble apparently noticed. “Umm, anyway, since these stones are made from compacted plants, there's a direction you need to keep track of. Wingstones are brushed along the feathers, never against the grain.” He started running the wingstone over his right wing. “You only ever stroke the feathers or nails, never, ever put it on your hair or your frogs. You could burn yourself if you stroke your coat with this, you wouldn't even notice until after a few hours. Make sure you go over every single feather you can reach, and always check in between. That gets rid of any dirt that might get stuck. You never know what you get on your wings, or in them. Even really small stuff, like dust, you can get out pretty easily with this and a shower.”
He put it down and took the hoofstone. “Hoofstones are more for polishing. The thing you gotta remember about these is: they're not for filing. You always want to go around with these, and only one stroke at a time, never go back and forth.”
He stuck out his arm and ran the second stone over the edge of his hoof, like a wetstone on a sword. A few rubs, and his hoof was clean as a whistle. “After that, obviously, you want to get a rag and give it a shine.” He thought for a second. “And remember to wash the stone, so any dirt it caught doesn’t get rubbed back in next time you use it.”
“That was very good, Rumble,” Cheerilee said.
“Yeah, where can you get stones like that?” Twist asked.
The boy grimaced, taken aback. “Umm, I got this wingstone at the Trader's Market, and the spa sells hoofstones, but-”
“Ooh, that'd be great to pretty up before a dance,” Dinky Do said. “I can never get my hooves to look that nice.”
Rumble blushed. “Umm, but-”
“Do you think you could help me out with that sometime?” Zippoorwil piped up. “My puppy always gets slobber on my hooves, and my mom won’t teach me how to pretty up yet.”
Rumble snorted and pouted his lips together. For just a split second, Sweetie Belle could swear he was doing his best impression of Rarity’s angry pout. It was that odd expression that hovered somewhere between ‘Aww, no more cake?’ and ‘Urge to kill rising.’ Then, much like Rarity would, he erupted. “I am not prettying up!”
The class fell silent.
The boy sighed. “Now, if you don't mind, I wasn't done with my show and tell.”
Sweetie Belle furrowed her brow. Was that a twinkle in his left eye? Was he about to cry?
He got right back into character, narrating the text he’d memorised. “Personal grooming is very important to a pony, even more so to a trained athlete. We ponies can get at least sixty diseases in our hooves alone, that's why we invented this sort of thing. And pegasus ponies, the ones who go at high altitudes and high speeds, they need to take good care of their wings.”
Cheerilee took note again.
“The thing you have to remember is: a lot can go wrong, and sometimes it's something small that can trip you up.” He smiled at Scootaloo. “If you're diving to save a pony, you can't afford to get distracted by an itch because you have wing lice. If you have to work the land, if you pull a plow all day?” He looked at Apple Bloom. “No matter how strong a pony is, they're weak somewhere. So, what I'm trying to say is: if you ever want to get into competition, like rodeos or flying contests?” He gestured to both Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. “Don't forget to groom. Practice makes you better, food keeps you fuelled, but grooming keeps you healthy and looking good.” He jutted his chest forward, just a tiny hint of pride returning to him. ”That's my talk. Thank you. Any questions?”
Sweetie Belle squinted. “Why do you need to sharpen your wings in the first place?”
“Huh?”
She pointed to his wings. “I mean, I get that you don't want to get bugs or anything, and that stone thingie must have herbs in it to keep those out, but why sharpen them? Do you need that when you get in a fight, or what?”
He had to take a moment to think, but he gave her a genuine smile when he found the right words. “Oh, that's for aerodynamics and magic, mostly. Some flight techniques involve pegasus magic, and you want to be able to cut the air as you go. It's also good when you have to get past clouds. You know, if you're in a rainstorm and you want to get above the cloud ceiling. It can get pretty dense, and you really don't wanna bounce down to the ground in a storm.”
Cheerilee nodded again. “Anyone else have any questions?”
Dinky Do raised a hoof, and so did Zippoorwil and Twist.
“Yes, Dinky?”
The filly forced out a nervous smile. “Umm, I know you don't use that stuff to pretty up, but it still looks very pretty. Your hooves look really nice.”
Rumble looked down at those well-kept hooves. “Umm, thanks?”
“I’d like mine to look like yours, too,” Dinky continued. “So could you maybe show me how you do that?”
“Yeah, me too?” Twist asked.
“And me?” Zippoorwil chimed in.
Rumble rolled his eyes. “Girls, it's not a beauty thing. That’s not what these stones are for.”
“Now, Rumble,” Cheerilee said. “That's not very nice. You gave a good talk, but you can't snap at your audience like you did. And I know hoofstones; they are beauty products, first and foremost. The girls are asking for your input, and you wouldn't want to be rude, would you? I'm sure the Wonderbolts wouldn't appreciate that kind of attitude.”
Rumble's ears flattened against his head. “Sorry, Miss Cheerilee. There's not really that much to it: you just find the grain on the stone, and rub that in the direction your hooves grow. You move it in circles, not along the length. It’s like sharpening a sword.”
“And that'll make them nice and shiny?” Zippy asked.
He nodded reluctantly. “Yes, it'll make them nice and polished, and sharp.”
In the back, Snips and Snails snickered. Featherweight followed suit.
“Now, boys, what is so funny?” Cheerilee asked.
“Nothing, Miss Cheerilee,” Snails replied.
Sweetie Belle's ears twitched.
Cheerilee didn't buy it. “Good, because if I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you find it funny that Rumble knows how to groom. There is nothing wrong with a boy doing girl things or using beauty products. There is nothing wrong with beauty products or girl things in the first place. If anything, he should take pride in knowing about them, and you'd do well to listen.”
Rumble let his head hang, desperately trying to hide his blush and the pout that came from swallowing whatever remark he had ready. With the class turning their attention to the two unicorn colts, it worked well enough.
“We know, Miss Cheerilee,” Snips said. “We weren't laughing at him: Rainbow Dash just flew into Twilight's castle again.”
Cheerilee went to the window. Sure enough, there were two blue legs sticking out of a crystal wall in the distance. “Oh, indeed she did. Well, never mind then, boys. Good to know that my class is so tolerant and open-minded.” She was interrupted by a ringing sound. “And there's the bell. Alright, class dismissed, everypony. See you tomorrow. And Rumble?”
“Yes, Miss Cheerilee?”
“That was a very good talk. It's nice to see a boy taking interest in these kinds of things, you have nothing to be ashamed of. No reason to be so touchy about it.”
Rumble kept his back turned to her. “Thank you, Miss Cheerilee. I'll be sure to keep it up.”
Sweetie Belle groaned when she walked through the door of Carousel Boutique. Rumble and Scootaloo would be busy with their practice for a while, still, but after that they were meeting at Twilight’s castle, leaving Rumble to train on his own. That was the plan, at least. Even with the partnered training, Scootaloo wasn't quite up to his level yet, and Rumble never deviated from his schedules. He’d be at it long after the girls left him.
Sweetie Belle sighed. She really needed to find some way to repay him for his help. Scootaloo would still be grounded if he hadn't stepped in. Her heart ached at the thought. Her mind got stuck on these things far too often.
“Sweetie Belle, darling!” Rarity came trotting towards her, a letter held in her magic. “I received a message for you.”
“Really? Already?” Sweetie Belle grabbed it and opened it. “That was fast.”
Dear Sweetie Belle,
We thank you for your interest in our performance. We hope you'll continue to enjoy our shows as our skills grow.
However, at this time, we cannot in good conscience accept an invitation from you. While we would gladly accept, our families would object to such a meeting. Perhaps when we come of age, and if we should find ourselves moving in the same circles, we can arrange a meeting.
Signed,
Rose Petal and Willow Bark.
“They turned me down,” Sweetie Belle said with a sigh.
Rarity took the letter and read it. “Hmm. Well, it was worth a shot. Some ponies just stick to their circles, I guess. Not to worry, I'm sure they'll come around once you start making your own productions.”
“It's not that, Rarity, it's Rumble. I really wanted him to meet those girls. I mean...”
Rarity tilted her head. “You mean... what, darling?”
Sweetie Belle sighed. “It's not fair. He should be with his own kind, with other ponies who are super dedicated. Just some pony to compare to, to, you know...”
Rarity nodded knowingly. “To play with?”
“Yeah. Have you seen him?”
The mare walked to a nearby window and looked out. Predictably, she saw a grey dot doing flips and twirls to an audience of none, save for the orange dot trying to follow it. “Once or twice. He does tend to fly near the roads to Canterlot, after all, it's not that far from here. And Thunderlane certainly speaks highly of him. But I thought Rumble was in a sports club of sorts? Hoofball, or was it the scouts? I’m sure I heard something along those lines.”
Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No, he’s not. He doesn't like hoofball or the scouts or any of that stuff. And he's too young for the flight clubs or the Junior Royal Guards.”
Rarity nodded emphatically. “Ohohoh, yes, that much I can attest to. Those clubs only take the older ones, the ones who've settled into their cutie marks.”
“The young stallions,” Sweetie concurred. “I just kinda figured it might help, you know, if he expanded his horizons. Mom's always telling me to do that, and it helps.”
Rarity nodded and looked at the letter, pensive. “Yes. It's a pity, but it’s not the end of the world.”
“It might as well be. Rumble’s not gonna get his cutie mark if he keeps up like this.”
“Oh, look who’s talking. You’re the expert on cutie marks now?” Rarity asked.
That got Sweetie Belle to quiet down for just a second. “Well… now that you mention it, yes, actually. I know I got my cutie mark thanks to my friends. I know you got yours thanks to ponies who appreciated what you did, thanks to ponies who understood you. But I’m not a flyer like Rumble. Neither is Diamond Tiara, or Apple Bloom, or even Scootaloo. If there was anypony around who could help him like my friends helped me, he’d have gotten his cutie mark ages ago.”
“If you say so, darling. It sounds like an overly convoluted idea to me, but… if you insist, there is still one way you could meet these girls.”
“Really? How?”
“Look at the letter, darling.” With a minor mental nudge, the paper floated in front of the filly. “Do you notice anything odd about it?”
Sweetie leaned in closer and investigated the letter. “Very nice writing.” She ran a hoof over the surface. “Fancy paper, too.”
“Anything out of the ordinary?”
Another look, and she got it. “The names. It’s signed in the same writing. It was only one pony that wrote this. Maybe the girls didn't get my message. Maybe their mom or dad did, and they wrote this.” On a hunch, Sweetie Belle took the envelope and checked the back. “Wait a second. Was this delivered here or to Canterlot?”
Rarity smirked. “To here. That arrived today.”
“But Missus Swirl only knew about your Canterlot shop. We never told her this address, did we?”
“We did not. And more importantly, even if we did...”
“There's no address on this envelope, either. And no postage stamp. This wasn’t delivered by mail; somepony just dropped it here.”
“Exactly.”
“So… that means some pony knows I'm looking for these girls, some pony who knows where Carousel Boutique is. But then they'd know where Canterlot Boutique is, too, so why not drop it there? Unless they were in a hurry, and unless...” she gasped.
Rarity nodded. “Unless it came from a local. Which would mean Rose Petal and Willow Bark, whoever they are, are Ponyville fillies.”
Sweetie Belle was distracted as she made her way through the halls of Twilight's crystal castle, still pondering the letter. Those careful lines, the squiggle of the 'r's, it certainly looked like it had been written by a pony from high society, a noble. But in Ponyville? The only nobility in town was the kind that used to wear magical jewelry, and had recently been demoted to taking orders from a tree. Or a piece of furniture, because Equestrian politics was strange like that.
She looked up at her friends as she entered the library. With Apple Bloom wanting to do a history report, and with history being rewritten every three months – recently decreed to be 'moons' now, for some reason no one could really fathom – they figured it'd be better if they were at the source of the history rewriting, even though Apple Bloom still had a grudge against the place. That got the unicorn filly thinking: Cheerilee had barely managed to teach the kids about the time Discord ruled the land when the Crystal Empire had shown up, at which point they got to learn about all the history that place had had before its disappearance. And then apparently the Tree of Harmony had sent Starlight Glimmer and Twilight Sparkle back through time to stop poor Spike from being born, as far as Sweetie Belle understood it.
She dearly hoped nopony close to her was due for a historian cutie mark, because that was turning out to be a surprisingly unstable line of research.
When the filly found her friends, she found them with an old picture in front of them, and a few books strewn about. Princess Twilight had her back to them, busy making her own mess at her table, so there wasn’t much protest there. The picture caught Sweetie Belle’s eyes, though. It was a group picture of Camp Friendship; she recognised Applejack and a young Countess Coloratura on the sides.
But besides that, she recognised the boys on the picture. There were about two dozen little colts and fillies in the front, all too young and too little to have much in the way of chins or muscles, but she could still see which ones were boys and which ones were girls at a casual glance.
For some reason, it reminded her of Fancy Pants. Her cutie mark made her head work in funny ways like that.
She stopped that train of thought when she finally sat down. “Hey, girls. How was the flight practice?”
“Tiring,” Scootaloo groaned and wriggled her wings, while Spike ran back and forth for Twilight’s research, vials and food strewn about for some reason. “I think my flips are getting better, but it's hard to tell.”
“Rumble's not here?” Sweetie Belle asked.
Scootaloo grimaced. “Nope, he's still at his usual spot, doing his reps. Probably didn't even break a sweat flying circles around me.”
Apple Bloom looked up from her book and notes. “Aww, don't feel bad, Scootaloo: you've only been flying a little while, and Rumble's like a little Wonderbolt already. He can fly circles around anypony our age, even a couple older ponies. Besides, at least he's takin' his time to show ya while Rainbow Dash is busy.”
“Uhuh,” Sweetie said. “Speaking of which, isn't Rainbow Dash picking you up soon for more practice?”
Scootaloo stretched out like a cat, then scrunched her nose and flopped on her back. The hard floor reminded her not to do that again. “Ow! Not today. She said I needed rest, so I wouldn't wear out my wings. And Rumble said the same thing, so it must be true. Now what was the big deal? You've been dancing around talking to us about something all day, what is it?”
Sweetie Belle sighed. “You know how Rarity and me went to the opera the other night?”
Scootaloo rose back up on her hooves and arched an eyebrow. “What about it?”
“Well, there were two girls there, performing. Rose Petal and Willow Bark, a unicorn and a pegasus. I couldn't see exactly, but they looked like they were as old as we are, as old as Rumble. And they were good, crazy good.”
Apple Bloom closed her book and sat up straight. “What are you getting at, Sweetie Belle?”Apple Bloom asked.
“Spike?!” Twilight called out. “Do you have that recipe book there with you?”
“I thought maybe I could meet them, introduce them to Rumble,” Sweetie Belle continued, undisturbed.
Scootaloo winced. “Why would you want to do that? You heard him: he's not a dancer.”
“No, but neither are these girls. Willow Bark is an aerial performer, she does dance-y stuff that looks like the rescue moves Rumble's been practising. And when I asked their teacher, she said that lots of athletic ponies do dance or performance on the side, to help them limber up and get their smaller muscles stronger. I thought, maybe if Rumble met those two girls, they might hit it off.”
Apple Bloom grimaced. “I don't get it. You know matchmakin' never works out for us. And besides, we got plenty of dancers in Ponyville, remember?”
The unicorn filly grah-ed. “I don't mean like that. Look, just think about it for a second. Why is Rumble always practising alone? Why doesn’t he play with other ponies?”
“Because he doesn't like being with other ponies?” Scootaloo replied.
“Because everything normal kids do just isn't any fun for him?” Apple Bloom tried.
“Exactly. Because there's nopony else like him in town. Even us, we don't spend that much time every day doing the same thing, trying to get better. You saw him in class, on his presentation. Rumble is always under pressure, from himself. No matter what he tries to do, he's still not having any fun. He's not going to get his cutie mark if he doesn't start enjoying himself just a little. And nothing we do about that is going to help, because we’re not like that. We don’t know what it’s like for him. So why not try to get him to meet somepony who does?”
Apple Bloom sighed. “Look, Sweetie Belle, I know you mean well and all, but maybe you hadn't noticed: Rumble deals with stuff on his own. He ain't depressed, he talked out the whole Wonderbolts thing with Rainbow Dash, we don't need to meddle.”
“I'm not trying to meddle,” Sweetie Belle argued. “I'm trying to do something right. Rumble's our friend, he's helped us out. He looks out for us. Don't you think we should repay him for that? At least try to help him make some connections? I mean, he’s basically one of us, isn’t he?”
“And then some,” Apple Bloom agreed.
“Exactly. But we don't know anypony else like him. Even when he’s with us, all he can think about is his schedules. All he ever talks about is the Wonderbolts. He might as well be alone when he’s with us, and that’s not right. We should at least try to find somepony he can talk to, as a friend.”
“Spike!” Twilight yelled again. “The faerie pie isn’t rising! I need my catalysts!”
“So what are you saying? You want to get these two girls and him in the same room, and they'll just make friends, just like that?” Scootaloo asked. “And then Rumble will get his cutie mark?”
Sweetie Belle shrugged. “Maybe. That's pretty much how we became friends, isn't it? And kinda how we got our cutie marks?”
“I guess, sort of,” Scootaloo admitted. “But you don't know these girls, either. You don't know if they're like Rumble.”
“Well, they're in a dance recital, and they're really good, so they must be dedicated. And their families kind of want them to move up in high society, so they probably feel a little self-conscious about that. And they're in the same group as those Slipper girls we saw Diamond Tiara with, so they're probably used to getting upstaged and ignored. I mean, doesn't that sound kind of like Rumble?”
“She does have a point,” Apple Bloom said. “And that is the sort of pony we don't usually get around these parts. Finding a boy like that would be next to impossible. Even the colts in Tender Taps’s class aren’t like that. And we don't even know any boys who are as girly as Rumble, either.”
“Spike!” Twilight yelled yet again. “How are those magic missile muffins coming along?”
Apple Bloom continued, undistracted. “Maybe if we just found a girl who likes him, it might help him relax, too. Maybe his cutie mark is in something girly, and he just hasn’t realised it yet.”
“I'm standing right next to you, Twilight,” Spike said in the annoyed tone he’d mastered through years of arduous practice.
“Oh, sorry, didn't notice you there.”
“It's okay; I'm used to it. You girls okay over there? I'm making mozzarella quiche and some herbal iced tea. Non-magical or military. I hope.”
Apple Bloom perked up. “Huh? Yeah, we're fine, Spike, thanks.”
Scootaloo's stomach grumbled. “I think I could do with a snack, if that's okay.”
“Comin' right up.”
Apple Bloom continued. “Anyway, those girls would be the closest thing, I guess. Even if it doesn't work out, it would help to have another high flyer around to compare notes with, Scootaloo.”
Scootaloo snorted. “I'll believe that when I see it.”
Sweetie Belle winced. “Trust me. You see Willow flying, you'll believe it.”
“Okay, so what's the problem, then?”
Sweetie Belle gave them the letter. “I asked their teacher to pass on a message. This letter came in today. It came here, not Canterlot, and it doesn't have a stamp. Which means...”
Apple Bloom's eyes widened. “Hold on. You mean to tell me there are two dancers in town who are as good at dancing as Rumble is at flying, and we didn't know about it? Even after the Foal Free Press thing?”
“Aside from the dancing not really being dancing, sure looks like it. They don't use their real names for performances, because they're trying to get into high society. Something about family names, it's complicated. But the bottom line is: there are two girls in town who might relate to Rumble a little. And one of them is a pegasus filly. Another little Wonderbolt like him: she’s trying to get her level up early, too. Maybe, if Rumble had a good example to follow, he might start having some fun. You know, compare himself to somepony who's got the same big dreams, the same dedication-”
“Spike!”
“I'm in the kitchen, Twilight! Do you want the castle to burn down?!”
“It’s crystal! It can’t burn!”
“It’s tree crystal, I’m not taking any chances!”
“-but who's in a club, or a recital. Someplace where more ponies are like that, where they tell you to take it easy sometimes. Maybe he'd finally do something with no pressure on it. And maybe get his cutie mark while he's at it. That was our plan all along, wasn’t it?”
Spike came waddling back in with a plate of treats for the girls. Scootaloo got a slice of quiche and quickly dug in. “Hmm, thish ish good. Thanksh, Spike. Nishe apron, too.”
“Don't mention it.” He swiftly undid the apron. “Especially the apron. Now what did you want, Twilight?”
“I was going to tell you to go take a break; you really do work too hard, you know.”
One oddity about Twilight's castle was the acoustic quality of the place. Song and dance had a wholly different quality here.
And the slap Spike delivered to his own forehead resonated straight down into Tartarus. “Okay. I'll be in Ponyville, then. Or better yet, Canterlot. I hear this month, Neighruto’s villain finally takes his mask off. It’s been, what, two years they’ve been fighting now? Three? You’d think knocking the mask off is the first thing you do.”
Twilight finally looked up and checked the clock. “I think you might have to wait a while for that, Spike. The next direct train to Canterlot doesn’t leave for another forty-five minutes. And you are not going anywhere if you can’t be home before dark, Mister. Not after what happened last time.”
“Aww, why does this always happen? Why can’t the Burning Scroll be in Ponyville? They’re the only ones that get the good foreign stuff.”
“I’ll fly you there when I have time. Or you can ask Fluttershy or Rainbow Dash when they go that way.”
“Sure.” He plodded off with a grumble.
Apple Bloom pondered the matter of their would-be cutie marked friend as she examined the letter. “Hmm, so what's the plan? Do you know what they look like?”
Sweetie shook her head. “I know Rose is a unicorn filly and Willow is a pegasus filly. But other than that, nothing. They were covered head to hoof, even their tails were hidden. It could be anyone. Although… Willow’s wings were green, and glittery. Do we know any green pegasi?”
Scootaloo shook her head. “No. Nopony our age. It could have been a dye.”
“Maybe. But then it could be anypony. Any pegasus who hangs out with a unicorn.”
“Then we should start with the pegasi in town,” Scootaloo said. “Rumble and me are the only ones who fly for real, at least out in the open. There's no way anypony can hide it if they have talent. Would Tender Taps know?”
“I doubt it,” Apple Bloom said. “We mostly do tap dancing, for local stuff, showy dancing. It’s not exactly the purview of the aristocracy, if you catch my drift. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’ve never even seen a pegasus in that sorta class. But Diamond Tiara would know, we can ask her.”
Sweetie Belle gasped. “No! We can't ask Diamond Tiara.”
“Why not?”
“Because her birthday party is coming up. You know how her mom gets. And Diamond really cares about Rumble, too. If we tell her about this, she'd worry herself sick. We can't stress her out any more than she already is. Not after what happened last time we ruined her party.”
Apple Bloom nodded in agreement. “Yeah, good point. Okay, so we start with the pegasi. Who do we know that might have slipped under our sights?”
Scootaloo thought long and hard, so hard in fact that the crystals around her creaked in sympathy with the rusty cogs in her head. “We're only looking for a pegasus who hangs out with a unicorn, right?”
Sweetie Belle nodded. “Yes. Willow Bark and Rose Petal are supposed to be pretty close. So how can you tell which ponies are good dancers?”
“They dance well, duh,” Apple Bloom rolled her eyes.
“Obviously. But aside from that?”
“It should still be pretty obvious,” Scootaloo replied. “Anyone who's faster than everypony else, anyone who's got a good sense of balance. Any little pegasus who can fly for real. Those kind of stick out.”
Apple Bloom grumbled. “That’s a pretty short list in this town. Featherweight's not it, right?”
“Of course not: we're looking for a pair of fillies, remember?” Scootaloo replied.
“Yeah, Missus Swirl said she doesn't teach boys. Besides, Featherweight is too tall. They look like us. Same height, same age.”
Apple Bloom waved her hooves around randomly to try and get things straight in her head. “Let's just go over everypony we know and work from there. We can scratch all the boys, so that's Tender, Button, Shady, Lickety-”
“There's a boy in our class named Lickety? Eww.”
“Let's not get into the specifics of pony names, okay, Sweetie Belle?”
“Okay. So how many pegasus girls live in Ponyville?”
Scootaloo pondered that for a moment. “Actually, I think it's only two or three, besides me. There's Dusty-”
“I don't know who that is,” Apple Bloom said.
“There's Windy-”
“Are you sure?”
“And then there's...”
“There’s… who?”
“Zippy.”
Sweetie Belle thought it over. That last one was the only name she recognised. “Zippy? You mean Zippoorwil?”
Silence fell between the girls as they thought it over.
“Get out,” Apple Bloom said. “You think Zippoorwil might be some awesome dancer in Canterlot?”
Sweetie Belle pondered it. “Zippoor-wil, playing a girl named Willow? That makes sense, actually. Think about it: she was asking Rumble about grooming, she did say her mom didn’t want her to pretty up yet. Her family might be a little, umm, careful about what boys she hangs out with in Canterlot.”
“You honestly think Zippoorwil is our girl?” Apple Bloom asked. “Seriously?”
“I don’t know. It sure sounds like it.”
“She does know how to fly already, remember?” Scootaloo said. “At least hover. She flutters her wings just like I do when I hover.”
“That… does kinda make sense. We would’ve noticed if she flew higher by now. She might be staying low on purpose,” Apple Bloom admitted.
“What do we know about her family?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Who are her friends?”
“I've seen her talking to Dinky Do a lot.” Scootaloo scratched her nose, thinking.
“A unicorn. A unicorn who can dance.”
Scootaloo nodded and downed another piece of quiche. “Definitely. She gave me a run for my money last dance-off.”
“You went to a dance-off?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Hey, I have a life besides you, you know.”
“Girls, don't get distracted. Could Zippoorwil be Willow Bark? Are we absolutely sure?” Sweetie asked.
“I still ain’t convinced,” Apple Bloom said. “I mean, she wears glasses, for pity’s sake.”
“So does Supermare,” Scootaloo replied.
“That’s not my point, Scootaloo. Sweetie Belle, you saw them. Did this Willow girl wear glasses?”
“She had a mask on. There might have been lenses in that. Who else could it be?”
“Okay, I will say this much, there ain't a whole lot of other options, if these girls are locals. And Zippy's dad is a musician, so maybe-”
“Wait, what? Seriously?”
Apple Bloom nodded. “Yeah, didn't Rarity tell you? Big guy, her dad. Got a fancy-lookin' guitar for a cutie mark and everything. Think she’s the one, then?”
Sweetie Belle nodded right back. “Has to be.”
“So what do we do?” Scootaloo asked.
“If it is her, then all we need is an excuse to get those high-flyers together,” Apple Bloom said.
Sweetie Belle grabbed a book from a nearby case, one she’d borrowed earlier for her own productions. “I think I've got just the thing.”
There was something pure about catching practice. Just two bodies, some time, and that harshest and most unforgiving of taskmasters: gravity.
Rumble went down after the filly-shaped doll, catching it mere inches before it hit the ground. He wasn't doing a glove catch now, just a standard under-the-shoulders grip.
Once he had the thing firmly in his grasp, he swung it over his back and soared higher, taking it to safety and presumably a medic.
He panted for air. His wings burned. “Was that the tenth time or eleventh?” he asked no one. He didn't bring any papers. He didn't have any assistants to take notes. No spectators. No fans. He couldn’t remember when Scootaloo and Apple Bloom had left. He only flew with Scootaloo for warming up, anyway, not like it mattered. He reached up to the corners of his mouth. Still saggy. He couldn’t keep up a smile, still. His eyes felt heavy, his breath slow and sluggish.
No change from before.
He just had to cheer up, chin up.
Chin up. What a joke.
“Come on, everypony! Tighten those turns! Corkscrew down! Keep your wings off the rings!”
The sounds of practice were carried on the wind, making his ears twitch. A couple hundred paces away, the old circus training ground was occupied by the Fillydelphia Junior Flyers Club. A loudmouth coach who bellowed his commands oversaw the training of competitive flyers, aged fourteen to nineteen. The coach always had his back towards Rumble, for reasons the boy could only guess. Rumble used to fly their way, to sit and watch them as they practised, as they honed their skills.
He used to.
He shook his head to clear it. No sense in getting distracted now.
He nudged the doll over the edge of the cloud he was on.
He closed his eyes and slowed down his breathing. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, go!”
Like lightning, he burst forth and swept the thing up again. Like clockwork, he put it back on the cloud.
Like always, there was no one to tell him if he was doing it right. The doll certainly didn't have any remarks.
The boy sighed. Even his ears were starting to droop.
What’s the point?
“Hoowee! That wush a fine catsh there, youngin!” A voice called out.
“Huh?” He flew down to greet the source. “Oh. Hi, Applejack. What are you doing here?”
Applejack got the tacks out of her mouth and nodded towards town. “Gazebo repair. Mayor's short a couple of hooves and bits, what with all the messes recently. What are you doin' here?”
“Umm, flight practice,” Rumble said with a squeak in his voice. “You know, loops, corkscrews, flybys.”
She pointed up. “Pony catches? Like the Wonderbolts? And all alone? I thought you were practisin’ with Apple Bloom and the girls? That was you at the farm the other day, right?”
He nodded and smiled bashfully. “Yup. I’m gonna be a Wonderbolt one day, so I practise a lot. And I do practise with the girls sometimes, but that’s just the stuff they ask. The high-level workouts, I like to do alone. Gotta stay fit, you know.”
“I’ll say. You're off to a good start, then. You looked just like Rainbow Dash when Rarity fell out of Cloudsdale.”
The subtlest hint of a twitch went through his left eyelids then. “Really?”
“Yeah, really. Has she been givin' ya pointers? She's been teaching Scootaloo, you know. Finally got that girl off the ground.”
That’s not exactly how Rumble remembered that story going, but he nodded politely anyway. “Oh, I know. I've been flying with her, too. Occasionally.”
“Huh. Has Scootaloo shown you any of her moves yet, then?”
“Umm, no, not exactly. More like, I've been showing her my moves. I'm already an advanced flyer, you see. She's still catching up, so I help her out.”
“Oh, good. You know how hard it can get for a little filly. Girl's gotta keep a reputation.” She winked.
He tilted his head. “How's that?”
“Well, just, you know, boys think you're weak just because you're a girl sometimes, is all I'm saying. It ain't couth, but it happens.”
He chuckled nervously, his voice squeaking. “Yeah, they do think that sometimes, don't they? But don't worry, me and Scootaloo can do plenty.”
“Good. Don't let that Rumble kid upstage you.”
There was that twitch again. “Rumble?”
“Another local Wonderbolt’s little brother.” Applejack looked around. “The way I hear it, he's like a little flyin' machine: really good, but never talks. Kinda messed up in the head, too, from what folks around here say. Don't let the reputation fool you, though: blowhards like that tend to pop under pressure.”
“I'll keep that in mind. Speaking of which, I should probably be getting back to practice now, do my runs over Ponyville.”
“You drag that thing across Ponyville?” Applejack asked.
“Yup. Endurance flying. Makes it easier to pick up speed when the weight comes off.”
Applejack nodded. “Huh. Kinda like plow-pulling, then. You know, you could always try out for rodeo contests, if you wanna measure up against somepony else. I mean, it ain’t as glamorous as the flyer circuit, but it’s a lot less harsh, too. Not as many stuck-up guys and gals in that, if you catch my drift, or pushy parents. A pony like you would fit right in. Got its own circuit for girls and everything.”
He furrowed his brow, blushing. Somehow, he'd never thought Applejack to be the matchmaking type. But then, with Apple Bloom and that love poison incident, it was to be expected to some degree. “Umm, thanks? I might try that sometime, actually.”
“That's done,” Big Mac said as he came walking by, hammer and tacks put away. “What are you dawdlin' about for?”
“Huh? Oh, nothin', just talkin' to this little high-flyin’ filly over here.”
Of course. Rumble grumbled as he took off. “I'll see you around, Applejack.”
The mare blinked. “Wait, you are the same girl that came to the farm the other day, right? You're a local?”
“You might say that. Hi, Big Mac.”
Big Mac glared at his sister even as he greeted the colt. “Howdie. How’s your brother doin’? Wonderbolt courses treatin’ him okay?”
“His drill sergeant says he’s doing fine, but he still comes home feeling like a bag of bricks. So he’s doing okay, but it’s still hard work.”
“I’ll bet. You tell him I said ‘Hi’ when you see him, okay?”
“Will do!” With that, Rumble went straight up, warming up his wings with the weight on him. He needed the fresh air from higher up to calm his rising temper anyway, and he didn't feel like tiring himself out flying upwind just yet. He saved that for later. At least he had his rescue aide on his back.
His filly doll.
Applejack was left confused. “Who was that? Apple Bloom never mentioned her name.”
“That was Rumble,” Big Mac replied.
Applejack blinked. “That’s Thunderlane’s little brother?”
“Eeyup.”
“But I thought Rumble was supposed to be a colt?”
Up above, the boy froze. His jaw clenched. She didn't even look up at him. It didn't even occur to her he might be listening.
“He is.”
Applejack grimaced. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. Thunderlane calls him his 'little brother', after all. Don't see why he would if he's not.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Well, he sure doesn't look like a colt, or sound like one.”
Rumble shivered. Was she really that dense?
Did neither of them notice he was still there?
Again?
“You do realise he noticed you called him a girl, right?” Big Mac looked up.
Applejack looked up with him, just in time to see Rumble kick the air and take off, finally out of earshot.
Applejack scrunched her nose, momentarily shaken from her otherwise stoic mood. “W-well, that’s not my fault! How am I supposed to know he ain't a girl? I've never seen him around; this is the first time I've gotten a closer look at him, talked to him. He doesn’t look anything like his brother, it’s an honest mistake. He looks like a girl, he sounds like a girl, he even kinda moves like a girl.”
“I think you hurt his pride there, Applejack. You’ve heard what ponies say about him.”
“Oh, please, I'm sure he gets that a lot, it's fine. All that stuff about him makin’ hurricanes is probably made up, anyway. Besides, boys are tough like that; you'd know.”
Big Mac rolled his eyes. “AJ, you're my sister and I love you dearly, but sometimes you just gotta know when to stop talking. Even with your honesty.” He stopped and thought it over for a second. “Especially with your honesty.”
Rumble tensed his body as he flew, using every ounce of willpower not to drop his doll, bolt and knock off a few shingles from the Ponyville roofs. It wouldn't do to turn to vandalism now.
One time. Just one time. One time I say ‘Wonderbolt’ and not ‘Wonderbolt stallion’.
He clenched his jaw and relished the aches in his muscles as he flew on. It helped him focus.
Don’t lose your cool.
Don’t get distracted.
Don’t quit.
Don’t whine.
Act like a good example.
Act like a Wonderbolt.
Act like a proper Wonderbolt stallion.