//------------------------------// // Perfecting the Practice of Partying Properly // Story: The Silver Standard // by PatchworkPoltergeist //------------------------------// “This can’t be legal.” Silver Spoon turned over the envelope in her hooves, as if inspecting an apple for spots. In case everypony didn’t hear her, she smacked her desk for emphasis and repeated, “Miss Cheerilee, this can-not be legal! I want my lawyer.” Berry Pinch flipped her tail with a scoff. “You don’t have a lawyer, you’re ten.” Alright, technically Silver didn’t have a lawyer at present, but it only took a couple of telegrams to get one. Probably. She wouldn’t let Pinch bog her down with semantics. “Just because you can’t afford legal representation doesn’t mean nopony else can, Pinch. I can have one down here by Wednesday.” At the top corner of the classroom, Diamond Tiara stood atop her chair, pumping her little pink hoof in righteous indignation. “Silver’s right! This is cruel and unusual punishment!” She scoured the faces of her classmates, all of whom frowned at envelopes of their own. “I mean like, come on! Who’s with me?” “It’s not fair,” mumbled Cotton Cloudy. Next to her, Tornado Bolt frowned at her envelope and nodded in agreement. “It’s not right.” Rumbles of similar dissent rolled through the classroom. “Yeah, Miss Cheerilee,” called out Apple Bloom, “you never did anythin’ like this before. How come you’re doing it now?” “Rainbow Dash is supposed to give me flying lessons this summer,” sighed Scootaloo. Sunny Daze (who hadn’t even received an envelope yet) pounded on her notebook. “I want a lawyer, too!” “Oh, oh!” Peachy Pie waved to her over the far distance of the third row. “I’ll be your lawyer, Sun-Sun!” Truffle Shuffle held his envelope close, flicking his stubby tail in annoyance. “Guys, it’s not that big a deal. It’s only homework.” Silver Spoon dismissed him with a toss of her hair. “You would say that.” Miss Cheerilee’s back hoof rapped the floorboards for silence. She narrowed her eyes and waited for the class to settle down into silence. With a cool, neutral expression, she laid an envelope on Diamond’s desk. “No revolutions before the last bell, Diamond Tiara. Sit back down, please.” Diamond dropped back into her seat and wrinkled her nose. Next to her, Pipsqueak sighed, nosing his own envelope. “This has got to be against the Guano Convention.” “That’s the Guanaco Conventions, Pipsqueak. Summer homework is not listed there as a war crime, trust me.” Miss Cheerilee chuckled to herself and glanced back at Silver Spoon. “And I’ll take my chances in court.” Perhaps these demands weren’t illegal, but that didn’t make them any less unreasonable. When Miss Cheerilee mentioned a special surprise for the last day of school, this had not been what Silver expected. Extra homework she could understand, but an entire project? Outrageous! “We already only get one summer a year, this is insane!” Silver swung towards Dinky Doo, who hadn’t voiced a word of protest at all. “And why aren’t you more upset about this?” The Dink’s black envelope hovered above her horn, rotating in the amber glow of her magic. She levitated it high to the light, squinting. “Spoons, lemme answer that question with another question: since when do we get our homework in envelopes? Secret sealed envelopes?” “…Hm. That is a little weird,” Silver admitted. “More like a lot weird—check it out: this envelope paper’s all thick and glossy. And you see that seal?” Dinky’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “That’s from the government. My dad gets mail just like it.” No such seal on Silver’s envelope, only a vague scent of cake frosting and cotton candy. When she shook it, the envelope… squeaked. Sweetie Belle waved her pretty, monogrammed envelope in the air. “What kind of homework is this, Miss Cheerilee?” Apparently, those had been the magic words. Cheerilee trotted down the aisles, all smiles and purpose. “Class, this summer you’re all going to participate in…” She took a breath and paused for effect. “A work study project!” The classroom bounced confused stares back at her. Twist wondered what that even meant. Peachy sighed with the relief that it hadn’t been math homework. Silver arched an eyebrow and exchanged a long-distance frown with Diamond Tiara. “Ponies from all over Ponyville have agreed to be a mentor for each and every one of you for two weeks. You’ll learn all about their careers, their special talents, and all sorts of other things.” At “special talent”, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo jolted up in their chairs, suddenly a lot more interested in summer homework. So much for a united classroom front against injustice. Diamond’s hoof shot into the air. “Okay, but that makes no sense. Why should I learn about somepony else’s career? I already have my cutie mark.” “Yeah,” added Cotton Cloudy. “Almost everypony with cutie marks already has a mentor. Cloud Kicker’s teaching me to be a weatherpony; we’re starting on stratus formations next week.” The Dink stared wide-eyed at her government envelope. Cautiously, she nibbled a corner. “Hmm. Tastes like brimstone.” “Very true, but there’s so much more to a career than a cutie mark, Cotton. And more to a cutie mark than a career.” Cheerilee shared a smile with Truffle Shuffle, who already looked excited about the whole idea. “Ponies don’t always get jobs specially tailored to their talent, and besides, special talents can manifest in all sorts of ways you may have never even thought of.” Maybe for other ponies. More than anything, this assignment sounded like a boost for blank flanks who didn’t know what to do with their lives yet, or for ponies confused about their marks. Silver Spoon couldn’t be more sure about the meaning of hers. “For those of you who haven’t found your talents yet, this will be an excellent opportunity to discover one.” With that, Miss Cheerilee finally nodded the “ok” for the class to open their envelopes. “Some mentors I picked out myself, but many sought some of you out specifically.” “Alright!” cried Apple Bloom. “I got Zecora!” “I’m with Featherweight’s big brother, Bulk.” Scootaloo shrugged, no doubt disappointed she hadn’t gotten Rainbow Dash. “How about you, Sweetie Belle?” The stationery in Sweetie’s hooves looked familiar: creamy white with red lettering. Silver flicked her ears and leaned forward in her seat, ignoring Snails’ loud confusion at having been assigned Fluttershy. Sweetie Belle opened her envelope and frowned. “Pitch Perfect? Isn’t that Silver Spoon’s mom?” She turned to see the rows behind her, avoiding direct eye contact with anypony in Silver’s row. The frown deepened. Silver Spoon frowned back. Hopefully, Mother would be tutoring in Sweetie’s house, not theirs. “Aww, darn it!” The Dink’s desk rattled with her kick. “DARN it! Of all the stupid luck.” “What? What?” Berry Pinch’s big nosy butt-face jammed into Silver’s personal bubble, trying to see Dinky’s letter. “Who’d you get? Mr. Breezy? Rainbowshine? That grouchy donkey who yelled at us for digging on his lawn?” “Nah.” With a sigh, Dinky flipped the letter forward so everypony could see the starry watermark. “Princess Twilight.” An impressed gasp rippled from the center row out to the far corners of the classroom. Twist applauded. Featherweight, Truffle, and Peachy Pie called out their congratulations while Diamond Tiara and Sweetie Belle tried to hide their jealousy. “Dinkster, you hit the jackpot!” Berry reached over Silver’s desk for a hoofbump, ignoring the dirty looks Silver Spoon shot her. “Bet she’s gonna teach you all sorts of sweet magic stuff and crazy secret spells.” The Dink met the hoofbump with considerably less enthusiasm. “Yeah, I guess.” Silver elbowed Berry off her desk with a snort. “What’s your problem, Dinky? Anypony’d cut their tail off to hang out with a princess. Like, a princess, Dink!” To drive it home, Silver pantomimed the shape of a crown in the air. “Who else in town could possibly be better?” The Dink crossed her forelegs and stuck out her lip in an uncharacteristically uncool pout. “Bon Bon.” “The candy maker? Dink, you can’t be serious.” “Yeah, Spoons. A candy maker.” Back in form, Dinky Doo raised a cool eyebrow and let a condescending smirk slide across her face. “You just keep thinking that.” “And I’m gonna be with…” Pinch squinted at her letter. “Cranky Doodle Donkey?” Silver Spoon looked away with a derisive giggle. Berry Pinch flattened her ears. “So what about you, Silver Snob? Some dumb, boring desk job at the mayor’s office with some dumb... dumb boring guy? Or another stuck-up fancy schmancy pony like… like, uh…” “Octavia?” offered Snips. Actually, Octavia would be rather nice. A few weeks ago, she’d moved in with that one unicorn who wore headphones all the time. Silver knew nothing about double bass, but she did play harpsichord and read music. Or perhaps Octavia could tutor her in the art of fine composure and moving through social circles. Silver shook the envelope again. It jingled this time. On the other hoof, it felt far too obvious of a match. Nopony else had gotten who they’d expected or wanted. She stretched her neck to see Sweetie Belle pondering the additional pages in her envelope. Could Cheerilee have paired Silver with Rarity in some kind of convoluted friendship scheme? Only one way to find out. Silver cracked the envelope’s sticker seal. FWEEEET! Confetti blasted through the middle row. A bell curve of confectionary glitter stretched all the way to the windows. The class stared. Truffle Shuffle coughed. The stack of confetti in Silver Spoon’s seat adjusted its glasses and spat out a shiny yellow streamer. “I got Pinkie Pie.” Unexpected homework had a way of dampening everything around it. Even worse, Silver couldn’t get it over with in the first days of vacation. Everypony had been scheduled a specific time span for their work study assignment, so as not to clash with family vacations or work schedules. That, Diamond said, was why she didn’t start until mid-July, after she’d come back from Horseshoe Bay. Filthy Rich was dead set on family togetherness and giving their new boat its sea legs. Or something. Thankfully, Pinkie wanted to start soon, when Diamond would be out of town, so it might not hamper their hanging out time too much. Might being the key word. On the sunny restaurant patio, Silver shifted in her chair and reviewed her letter. She skimmed through the introductions, pleasantries, and non sequiturs to the date posted in the middle: JUNE 26—??? ( : “I just wish she told me when it ended.” It might last a day or all summer for all she knew. Or maybe Pinkie would decide to show up whenever she felt like it. Silver’s coat rumpled with discomfort. “Ugh, and no times listed anywhere, either. How am I supposed to schedule this? This is… this is savagery!” Diamond Tiara shrugged behind a dessert menu. “So ask her about it when you meet her. It’s no big deal.” Easy for Diamond to say; she could jump into a project at the word “go”. Silver rubbed her temples, longingly staring across the toadstool table at Diamond’s saddlebag. “I wish I had your mentor, Di. I bet Tall Order would never pull this sort of thing.” A pair of pink ears swiveled at the top of the dessert menu. “Who?” The menu lowered a few inches to show Diamond’s eyes. “Silvie, what’s good at this place? This menu’s all in Prench.” Wouldn’t be a problem if you’d let me read it to you. “It’s all pretty good, but I personally like le lait fouetté au chocolat. You’d like it in raspberry, I bet.” “But it’s the cheapest thing on the menu. Isn’t this supposed to be one of the fanciest places in town?” “Yeah, but it’s also a more grown-up place. It works a little different.” “Still fancy, though, and high-class places always make the best stuff the most expensive, right?” Diamond smirked as if she’d caught Silver in a gambit and pointed at the menu. “Like this?” Silver blinked. “I guess?” She followed Di’s hoof down the menu to la petite joie de vivre, a dessert priced the same amount as a mid-class saddlebag. “Like I said, everything’s good, but I really think you’d like—” “I think I know what I like, Silver Spoon.” A little wrinkle creased across Diamond’s muzzle. “I don’t need you to hold my hoof.” She reached up to wave down Savoir Faire. “Hello? We’re ready to order.” “Ah, oui, Mademoiselle Tiara.” The cream earth pony’s eyes lit in recognition as he approached the table. “And Mademoiselle Silver, how did ze student council haute cuisine—how do you say—work out?” “Very well, thank you.” Silver puffed her chest. “Sold out and matched our goal. I’ll have the usual, s’il vous plaît.” Diamond tipped her nose in the air and gave the menus back. “La petite joie de vivre.” Savoir Faire blinked in surprise, though clearly pleased. “Excellent choice. I vill ‘ave it right out, mesdemoiselles.” “So,” said Silver Spoon, “About Tall Order…” “Oh, right. The homework thing.” Diamond sat back in her chair, one hoof tracing the spots on the table. “Yeah, I don’t get why I got stuck with some bureaucrat from the mayor’s office. Mayor Mare I’d get, but not a council pony in… what’s he do again? Legislation?” She rolled her eyes with a scoff. “That’s your style, not mine.” True enough, but something in the dismissive flick of Diamond Tiara’s tail rubbed Silver Spoon the wrong way. “It’s still an important job, Di. Ponyville can’t run without him.” “Guess you’d know; you’ve been on the student council.” Her ears idly flicked in the direction of some minor commotion in the streets. Ponyville seemed giddy in preparation for something, though neither filly knew what. “By the way, how come you never mentioned that?” “I did.” Silver filed down the rising edge in her voice. Di always got a little cranky after a big loss. Biting back helped nopony. “You might have forgotten in the middle of your newspaper duties.” Wait. That’s dangerous territory. Silver searched the happy buzz of ponies for a subject change. Two blocks away, something pink ricocheted off of Pipsqueak’s roof and slid down a storefront tent to come in for a bouncy landing on the awning. Silver’s future mentor in action. “It’s so weird. I asked Cheerilee if maybe our letters got mixed up, but she told me that Pinkie asked for me.” According to Cheerilee, Pinkie had been “quite insistent” on the matter. “I can’t imagine why. If anything, she ought to be teaching you, Di.” In a passing shadow and a soft clink, Diamond’s order slid onto the table. La petite joie de vivre sat in a pretty crystal bowl a little bigger than a shot glass—barely a mouthful, but likely an amazing one. Diamond Tiara gave it a disappointed squint and sniffed at it. A proper young lady did not partake in I-Told-You-Sos, thus Silver continued, “After all, you’re both pink and popular and every year you throw parties of the season. Maybe not this season, 'cause you’ll be too busy swimming in the bay, but you know what I mean.” Silver stepped up a moment to take her lait fouetté au chocolat from the waiter; he seemed to struggle balancing it with another table’s order. “Yeah. I guess I can see that.” Diamond sat up to watch Pinkie and her bouncing, bulging saddlebags pass by. “She did plan my cuteceañera—like, Dad made me do it, but you know.” Her eyes flicked between her microscopic joie de vivre and Silver’s lait fouetté—essentially a fancy milkshake with chocolate and caramel crumbles on top. “We don’t settle for anything less than the best, of course.” Leaning forward to make her point, Diamond’s hoof “slipped” and the fifty-bit dessert crashed into the grass. Silver began to note Pinkie Pie’s commitment and wondered when the upcoming party would drop—it looked like a big one—but stopped at the sight of her milkshake in Diamond’s hooves. The stony look Silver shot Diamond went completely unnoticed. “I suppose she passed the test.” Disappointment Silver could understand, but for peat’s sake, Di didn’t even try her ice cream. And it wasn’t like Silver couldn’t have been persuaded to share the shake, had Di only asked. She could still get a straw and they could split, or… Silver Spoon scowled at the ice cream melting on the table leg. You know what? No. She snatched the milkshake back and took a massive sip. Nothing’s wrong with Diamond’s voice. She can ask. “Even when Apple Bloom tried to sabotage it, Pinkie didn’t let my cuteceañera fall apart on me.” Thinking it over, Diamond Tiara nodded with a little smile. “It turned out pretty okay.” Halfway down the block, Pinkie Pie smiled back at them. “Thanks!” She paused and stared into space with an odd little frown. “…I guess?” No one in Equestria could deny the mare did superb work, not even a post-disaster Diamond Tiara. However, no amount of party skills could override the sheer amount of… eccentricities attached to Pinkie Pie. Listening to her felt like hearing somepony speak Neighponese backwards. Whatever; that was next week’s problem. Silver closed her eyes and savored her first rich moment of chocolatey goodness. The straw scraped the sides of the glass to get the full flavor. She opened one eye to find Diamond frowning at her. Silver’s tongue swiped up spare flecks of crumbled caramel on the side of her mouth. She offered an innocent smile. “What?” The dawn of June twenty-sixth broke in a haze of thick pink clouds. The pegasus ponies swam through cotton candy skies, prepping for the scheduled rainstorm. Trapped behind the clouds, the sunlight couldn’t breach the window to wake anypony. Additionally, in her eagerness to begin vacation, Silver had banished her alarm clock to the dresser drawer last week. Therefore, Miss Sterling Silver Spoon did not awake until half-past nine with the sudden knowledge that she’d woken up late for her work study. This she quickly assessed from shadows on the wall, an impeccable internal clock, and the pink pony whispering to Ferdinand in the corner. “…and they know how to sing every single song that ever existed in the whole wide universe, even the ones nopony remembers anymore, like ‘We’re Not Gonna Freeze’ and ‘Filly, Play Your Mandolin’ and that one song about the apple tree.” Pinkie Pie cocked her head at the betta fish’s burble. “No, no, the other one about apple trees, but the little seaponies probably know that one t—SILVER SPOON!” Silver let out a startled little squeak. In the fumble to put her glasses on, she ended up half falling, half jumping out of bed. In an instant, Pinkie hovered over Silver’s face, mouth hung open in a gasp of joy or shock or both. Probably both. “You’re awake! You’re finally awake!” With a flick of her tail, she set Silver’s glasses on the filly’s nose, perfectly balanced and ready to go. “Thanks. Um, good morning, Miss Pinkie Pie.” She glanced at a basket of long-cold bagels and bowed her head. “Sorry I made you wait. I woke up late.” “On the contradictory, Miss Spoon: It is I who is not on time.” With the snap of a scrunchie, Pinkie tied back her mane and set a pair of brass pince-nez upon her nose. She wore a tweed jacket, complete with elbow patches. With the mushroom cloud of pink curls sprouting at the back of her head, she looked something like an odd parody of a university professor. “I mean, how can you be late to your own house?” The dignified diction of her professory voice unraveled back into her usual Pinkie patter. “It’s just like I told Ferdie: if I’m here and you’re still all snozey-dozey, then I’ve got to be the one who’s early. See?” “Not really,” Silver Spoon said. “I usually wake up around seven, so I should’ve already been awake when…” She looked at the bagels again. They couldn’t get that stale in only two hours. “When did you get here?” “Last night!” “…Oh.” Yeah, maybe Pinkie was early after all. Pinkie leaned on the edge of the tea table and pulled out a handkerchief to clean her glasses. It went right through the empty frames. “Yeah, I thought I got here this morning—because the clock said it was the morning, silly clock—but then when I got here Pitch Perfect was all, ‘What are you doing here’ and 'It’s the middle of the night’ and ‘Get out of my breadbox’, so I guess it must have still been nighttime. Whups!” She slipped the glasses back into her pocket and giggled to herself. “Did you know your mom can scream really, really loud?” That explained Silver’s weird dream with the screaming ponies. “Maybe,” Silver gently suggested, “this wouldn’t have happened if I’d gotten a schedule from you?” “But you did! At least, I think you did. Cheerilee gave you my letter, right?” Pinkie Pie nodded to herself and pointed at the calendar. “June twenty-sixth, like I said.” The gears in Silver’s head turned. “You got here at midnight.” Literally the moment the date shifted. “Was Mother upset?” “A little bit at first, so I made her some bagels to apologize ‘cause I know how much they like bagels in Manehattan. I think she liked them, but she kept reminding me: ‘No silly shenanigans, Pinkie.’ Hee, right! When am I ever silly?” Pinkie’s nose met Silver Spoon’s and her eyes narrowed into a severe squint. “I’m taking this very, VERY seriously.” Silver Spoon—properly raised to never contend elders, teachers, or betters—kept her skepticisms to herself. “I can see that, Miss Pie.” She cleared her throat and offered a curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to be learning…er, whatever I’m supposed to be learning from you.” Pinkie grinned and bowed back. “Thanks, Silver.” Giggling, she gave her student’s chest a little poke. “Nice joke! You’re already on your way. I knew I picked the right foal. Do you want some breakfast?” “What? Sure, o—” In the space between the beginning and the end of Silver’s blink, a platter of fresh scones, grapefruits, and steaming oatmeal appeared upon the tea table. Not a bad setup, actually. “—kay.” Sometimes, if Silver went slow, she could untangle Pinkie’s sentences and follow them back to reason. Sadly, this was not one of those times. “I didn’t tell you a joke, Miss Pie.” Or should it be Professor Pie? “I really don’t know.” Pinkie Pie twitched her ears. “Wait, seriously?” She gripped the tablecloth and zoomed in, examining Silver’s really-not-kidding face. “SERIOUSLY?” Silver swallowed a mouthful of hot scone. “Super seriously.” “How could you not know? It’s so obvious!” “What is?!” A grave, solemn expression passed over Pinkie’s face. She closed her eyes, and a nonexistent breeze rippled through the curtains. The fluff of her tail twitched. The bouncy curls of her mane tossed and snapped and fizzed. An odd light seemed to radiate off her cutie mark, all scattered and bright and bouncy, as if from a disco ball. A light not seen, but felt. Silver Spoon’s own cutie mark tickled and it made her laugh. “You’re a party pony, Silver Spoon.” “…What.” Silver glanced at her strangely warm cutie mark, then at Pinkie’s knowing smile. It almost added up on paper, but... “Miss Pinkie Pie, that can’t be right. I hold tea parties, not…” She made a vague gesture with the tea kettle before pouring a cup for Pinkie, then another cup for herself. “...whatever it is you do. And no offense, but I already have Tealove to mentor me for tea parties.” “Right! She’s the tea and I’m—” A cloudburst of confetti showered the table. “—the party! When Cheerilee said she needed tutors for her class, I knew right away who I had to teach. I mean, who else is there?” Pinkie’s right hoof stroked her chin while her left hoof held out her teacup so Silver could add five lumps of sugar. “Well, I guess you could always ask Cheese Sandwich, but he’s already halfway across Equestria to see the biggest ball of twine in Whinnysota and I don’t think you want to go all the way there for the summer. That’s too big a trip for an itty bitty filly like you.” She shook her head and sipped her yerba mate tea. “I’m sorry, Silver Spoon, you should have asked Cheese while he was still here last week. Right, Boneless?” Silver blinked at the rubber chicken propped up in a doll chair. He wore a tiny top hat and monocle. “Look, it’s not the same sort of party, Pinkie. Tea parties are different. Especially high tea.” “It is?” Pinkie frowned and tilted her head. “How?” “Tea parties are polite. They’re formal and they’re quiet. There’s rules everypony has to follow.” “Why?” asked Pinkie Pie. Oh, for goodness’ sake, did Silver have to hold her own mentor’s hoof and walk her through this? “Because rules are there to make sure everypony feels comfortable with each other’s company. So we can all have pleasant, polite conversation and a nice time.” “Sooooooooo…” The smile on Pinkie’s face stretched to her ears. “Would you say tea parties are supposed to make ponies...smile?” “Well, it wouldn’t be much of a tea party if everypony is too busy being miserable, would i—” Silver paused and frowned at Pinkie’s knowing grin. “Fine, you’ve got me there. But I’m not the only pony in town who throws parties. Mother still throws a dinner party every Hearth’s Warming.” “She sure does!” piped Pinkie Pie. “And Mrs. Rich organizes and plans weddings. Those are basically huge parties, right?” “Yep-a-roony, Silver Spoon!” Pinkie winked. “You’re sharp.” “Right, and last January, Shady Daze held an ice skating party on the pond. Does that make any of them party ponies?” She had her now. Silver flipped her hair, sitting up prim and confident in her chair. “Nope!” Pinkie offered Boneless some grapefruit. Boneless flopped over the table. He squeaked. “Manners, Boneless. We’re in proper company.” Silver Spoon rolled her eyes. “The thing is, there’s a difference between a party pony and ponies that throw a party.” With Pinkie’s help, Boneless was propped back up in his chair, though the monocle had rolled off someplace. She shrugged and popped the grapefruit in her mouth. “I mean, they can throw a great party, don’t get me wrong—Cherry Berry’s new year party last year, are you kidding me?—but a true blue party pony, they’re different.” Pinkie Pie pressed her hoof against her gut and it made a funny gurgling noise. “It’s in here. You know?” Silver stared over the steaming teacup in her hooves. “No?” “Hmm, how do I explain this? Oh!” The chair squeaked across the floor as Pinkie scooted close. She cradled her cup of tea over her legs, bunched up to fit her hooves under the child-sized table. “Silver, lemme ask you something. You’ve never had tea with me, so how’d you know I like this kind of tea? I’ve never had it before. I don’t even know what it’s called.” A bit unsure what this had to do with anything, Silver sniffed Pinkie’s tea and said, “No, but it’s pretty obvious. You’re Pinkie Pie, so you’d like something that’s sweet and has lots of caffeine in it.” The caffeine might have been unwise, now that she thought about it. “It’s yerba mate. I don’t have a custom blend for you, and I didn’t have time to make one, so I guessed.” “Too good for just a guess, if you ask me. This is some of the best tea I ever had!” Before Silver could respond, Miss Pie lifted the teapot, indicating the pairs of teacups and saucers before them. “So, what about these? I didn’t bring any tea stuff with me.” “Duh, Pinkie Pie. It’s my bedroom, so it’s my reserve tea set. It’s always here.” If not at tea, Silver might have snorted at that smug smile creeping on Pinkie’s face. She settled for a dignified huff instead. “Please. I’m not going to serve a guest breakfast without tea. That’s common courtesy; it means nothing.” “Uh-huh.” Pinkie took a small sip of yerba mate, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the other reserves? Like the ones at school?” The knowing smile edged into a grin. “Or in your saddlebag? Or the garden? The living room?” How did Pinkie know about those? Cheerilee could have told her about the school tea set, but hardly anypony noticed the set in her saddlebag. “I like being prepared, that’s all… in case there’s—” “A tea emergency?” offered Pinkie Pie. “I dunno, Silver Spoon, that sure sounds like standard party pony preparedness to me.” “But there’s nothing special about that. It’s just what I’ve always done, ever since…” Ever since she’d earned her cutie mark. “Huh.” Silver Spoon thought back to Diamond’s sleepover: the prevailing misery and chaos before, as well as the serenity, harmony, and yes, smiles once she’d started the tea party. The warmth she felt when cozy conversation kicked up around saucers and cakes. She recalled dozens of friendships and alliances crafted over lumps of sugar. It didn’t happen often, but every now and then, Silver could feel an odd itch in her hooves, accompanied by the uncanny feeling that somepony somewhere needed to impress their boss with a luncheon and had no idea how to set the forks. She’d always dismissed it as indigestion or tiredness or something. Could it be something else? Silver examined the little pink heart in her cutie mark and flicked her ears. “This is one of those weird and hard to explain earth pony magic things, isn’t it?” The scrunchie popped off in an explosion of wild pink curls. A shower of crumbs sprayed across the carpet as Pinkie Pie leapt up cheering. “Eeeeeee! I can’t hold it in anymore!” Somehow, she managed to land on the table without disturbing any of the plates or cups. This did nothing to stop Silver Spoon’s minor conniption at the sight of hooves on the tablecloth. “Fetlocks belong on the floor, Miss Pinkie Pie.” “I can’t believe there’s a brand new little party pony in Ponyville! That’s twice the parties! Twice the smiles! TWICE THE CAKE!” Pinkie’s volume officially breached acceptable levels. The mare practically vibrated with excess excitement. “And not only that—I get to teach her! ME! Pinkie Pie!” “Inside voice!” cried Silver Spoon in what was not at all an inside voice. The protest couldn’t hold against Pinkie’s infectious joy, and her grouchy little frown crumbled into a giggle. “But I’m a little excited, too—whoa!” The ground swished out from under Silver’s hooves and suddenly she could only see pink and pink and more pink as her mentor squashed her up in a mighty bear hug. Ragdolled in mid-air, Silver Spoon stared into the impenetrable jungle of Pinkie mane. Why did it smell like cheese and oysters in here? A purple pair of eyes blinked at her out of synch. “Uhhh, Miss Pinkie Pie?” Pinkie only cuddled her tighter. “I can be like your professor! You’re gonna be my faithful student and learn all about parties and party invitations and decorations and friendship and the candy-to-cake ratios—” It felt like they were… flying? Bouncing? “—and how to make sure nopony throws up on the floor and you can write me all sorts of letters about the party lessons you learned until one day you don’t have a letter to write and have a great big freak-out about it!” Yes, definitely moving. Good thing Silver did her hair during breakfast. She frowned at the purple eyes. “Uh, Pin—Professor Pie? I think there might be something living in your hair?” The eyes made a burbling noise. “Like, maybe a monster?” Silver tapped where she guessed Pinkie’s shoulder was. “It smells in here and I’m a little scared for my life?” Silver’s ears pricked at the sound of somepony’s horn lighting up and her pink world took a blue tinge. Magic gently pulled her out of Pinkie’s mane and floated her into the foyer. She shook her head, looking down to discover a rather displeased Brass Tacks. “Oh, good morning.” “Good morning, Miss Silver. Are you quite alright?” Tacks set Silver Spoon on the floor with an appraising gaze. He readjusted her glasses and tied her mane into its usual tidy braid. “I’m okay.” Silver pointed to the mare rocking back to count all the lights in the chandelier. “My mentor’s just a bit enthusiastic. We had tea.” “Hiya, Tacksy! Remember me? I’m Pinkie Pie!” said Pinkie Pie. Brass Tacks lashed his tail, scowling. “…Quite.” Pinkie Pie smiled and waved at him. Brass Tacks gritted his teeth. Professor Pinkie Pie slowly reached up and booped his nose. “Excuse me, but I think I saw something living in your mane?” Silver gave Pinkie’s tail a little tug. “Is that normal?” Pinkie smiled up at the rustling activity in the back of her hair. “Hm? Oh, that’s Gummy.” The head of a baby alligator slid out of the pink curls. It squeaked. “He’s excited to see us get started, too!” “Again, Miss Silver, I must emphasize my concerns. Must you start the work assignment today?” Brass Tacks shot a glance at Pinkie’s dangerous proximity to a priceless vase. “Madame Perfect stepped out for work an hour ago and won’t be back for some time.” “But that… that’s an alligator.” Silver pointed at the gaping, toothless maw squeaking at her. “That is literally an alligator.” Pinkie slung a hoof around Brass Tacks’ shoulder with a comforting pat. “Don’t worry your butlery head; Silver’s in great hooves. I promise.” “Nonetheless.” Gently, Tacks levitated Pinkie’s hoof back to the ground. “I do not think you ought to remain here unsupervised while Miss Silver’s mother is out.” For a quiet moment, Pinkie Pie considered that. She examined the tall ceiling, the glowing chandelier, and her thoughtful face reflected in the ebony hardwood floor. Rubbing the sleeves of her tweed jacket, she nodded in agreement. “You know what, Tacksy? You’re absolutely right.” “I am happy you see reason, Miss Pinkie Pie.” “Why am I the only one concerned about the alligator?” said Silver Spoon. “We shouldn’t be cooped up inside; we need to be out there!” Pinkie flung the drapes open in a dramatic flourish. A helpfully dramatic stormy wind battered wet leaves and rain against the window. “The great wide open world—that’s where the real fun is!” Tacks raised a hoof. “That isn’t exactly what I mean—” “Are you ready for your first lesson, Silver Spoon?” Okay, apparently nopony cared about the alligator. That didn’t sound especially sanitary or… sane, but whatever. Moving on. “But Professor Pie, it’s raining. We’ll get all wet.” “That’s what these are for, silly.” Pinkie nodded at a doubles-sized umbrella and Silver’s designer plaid raincoat ensemble waiting beside the door. She stared down the dark rainclouds like Daring Do stared down ancient temples. “Now is when ponies need smiles more than ever. Think of all your friends, Silver Spoon. All of them waited all year for summer to come, and now they have to spend it inside! Even though the sun isn’t sunny, it’s up to us to show them there’s still fun to be had.” Buttoning up her raincoat, Silver looked up from under the wide brim of her rain hat. “Fun that’s funny?” Pinkie Pie lifted an eyebrow. “Um, no. Fun is serious business, Silver Spoon.” She lifted her head, dusting off the lapels of her tweed jacket. “We’re professionals.” Brass Tacks slowly blinked at the alligator crawling out of Pinkie’s hair and the rubber chicken under her arm. “…Indeed.” Hi, Diamond Tiara! I think you might not get this until you’re already on your way back, because Post Haste says the mail takes a while (he also says there’s a tropical storm coming in, be careful!) but maybe it’ll give you something to read on the trip back. How are things in Horseshoe Bay? I got your pictures in the mail on Tuesday, and the view of the water looks totally amazing! I bet that beach is awesome when the sun gets hot. Did you ever convince Spoiled to let you try surfing? When Pinkie and I dropped by the library, I asked Twilight Sparkle about the stuff your stepmom was worried about for you. She seems pretty sure there aren’t any giant squids or sharks in that part of Equestria, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I hope you’re having more fun over there, now. Still sorry to hear it didn’t work out with that diver filly… Strawberry Reef, was it? You’re way too good for her, anyway. As for me, I think I might finally be getting the hang of this party pony stuff (and it only took a week, four days, and eight musical numbers). At least, I think I am. It can be hard to tell sometimes. Even though I keep asking, Pinkie Pie still won’t give me a written schedule (I tried making one, but that didn’t go so good) but she at least adjusted for mine, and I’ve gotten used to her… specialness. She’s not as random as she looks, Di. Pinkie’s got a different rhythm—it’s weird and keeps changing and improvising, but it comes together in the end. Like jazz. I don’t really know how to dance to jazz, though. I don’t think I ever will. Pinkie says that’s alright, and my party pony style just doesn’t work that way. She told me that there’s lots of different kinds of parties, and those parties aren’t always for everypony. As long as I remember to pay attention and try to learn while we’re working together, she’ll be happy. Speaking of parties, we’ve been to a lot of them. No wonder Ponyville has two party ponies, it feels like there’s celebrations every week! Not everything we do is about parties though—here’s what we did yesterday: - Planned Junebug’s family reunion/garden party. That one’s my favorite so far. - Made lemonade & blew up balloons for a concert - Baked ginger cookies with the Cakes (I saved you some!) - Saw Pinkie’s basement. It’s not polite to blab about somepony’s trade secrets, so I won’t… but take my word on this: It. Is. Amazing. SO JEALOUS. - Said hello to at least fifty different ponies - Helped Mayor Mare plan her black-tie gala for next fall (that’s my second favorite) - Helped Mayor Mare choose a new color for her living room. We settled on turtle green, even though Pinkie really wanted chartreuse. - Played fetch with Applejack’s dog - Gave Applejack’s dog a bath after she jumped into a mud puddle and scared a skunk - Went to the spa to give OURSELVES a bath - Drank ice cream floats - Met Big Macintosh and Cheerilee by the gazebos and talked about apprenticeship stuff and what we’ve been doing all summer - Got a ride home on Big Macintosh’s back (he felt bad about us getting skunked). Fell asleep halfway there. I still don’t know how somepony that reserved and mannerly can be related to Apple Bloom. Yeah, that’s a lot for one day, huh? It doesn’t feel like that much when you’re in the middle of it. I’m having a good time learning from Pinkie, but I’ve been a little worried. Pinkie Pie keeps hinting at some kind of test that’s coming up. I don’t know if I should be prepping or taking note— “Hellooooo, faithful student!” Silver Spoon set down her pen and looked out of the garden gazebo. A fluffy shadow bobbed over the lawn’s rosebushes. Twisting her head, she smiled at the pink pony perched on the gazebo roof. “Good afternoon, Professor Pie.” She laughed at the shadow fidgeting hoof to hoof in a fidgety little dance. “What are we doing today? It looks exciting.” “You know it, Silver! Today’s an extra super special day, and I know you’re gonna just love it! …Also, this roof is very hot.” In one smooth motion, Pinkie Pie swung into the gazebo to sit on the railing, her tail flicking over the edge. “What’re you doing? Writing to Diamond Tiara?” Silver folded the letter into her saddlebag and got ready to leave. “Mm-hmm. She’s still out at the Bay.” For at least another week, according to Di’s last letter. It was supposed to only be two weeks, but it stretched to three between Spoiled’s infatuation with the sunsets and Filthy’s desire to squeeze mileage out of the vacation home they’d barely touched in a decade. Not that it seemed to bother Diamond any. “Probably having lots of fun sunbathing and swimming and looking at dolphins,” she sighed. Pinkie Pie and Silver Spoon waved to Mother watching them from the window, and made their way out of the garden and into the street. “Probably—hiya Medley, nice hat! There’s all kinds of fun you can have on a boat, and even more fun things on the beach. Know what, though?” Not a step out of her bouncy trot, Pinkie gave Silver a side hug and a nuzzle. “I bet that’ll be nothing compared to the fun times you’ll spend together.” Silver lifted her droopy ears and smiled back. By the time Di would get back, her bad mood would have blown over, too. Maybe taking a small break from each other would end up good for them. Her hoofbeats slipped into a smooth, clipped trot to match Pinkie’s bounce. “Yeah. Thanks, Pinkie.” Mud squelched on the opposite side of the path. A gangly colt dripping in mud and slime walked backwards up the hill, dragging a huge red bucket behind him. Filth covered his cutie mark and most of his coat, but only one colt in Ponyville had that build and loved gross stuff that much. Silver Spoon turned up her nose and moved to Pinkie’s opposite side. “Hi Snails, what’re you up to?” Entirely ignoring Silver’s negative signals, Pinkie strode across the street to stare into his disgusting muddy bucket. Bits of grass and dirt poked out of a thick layer of mud coating the bottom. “Need any help with that?” “Naw, I got it, Pinkie Pie. There’s a buncha mud daubers living in Applejack’s pigpen, so me and Fluttershy are gonna go and move ‘em to a nicer place.” Never one to keep his big nose in his own business, Snails peeked over Pinkie’s shoulder to see who the second shadow belonged to. He broke eye contact when he did. “Oh, h-hi, Silver Spoon. I didn’t see you there.” Pinkie Pie’s tail pushed Silver out into the open before she could think of an excuse not to talk to him. Silver Spoon flicked her own tail with a sigh and offered Snails a minor nod of acknowledgment. She looked back up at Pinkie Pie. Can we go now? Pinkie took a seat and stared back, waiting. She seemed prepared to wait as long as it took. In case Silver needed a hint, she inclined her head toward the filthy, smelly colt. No getting around it, then. Silver Spoon took a breath, swallowed down the indignity of it all, and smiled at him. “Good afternoon, Snails. I hope you enjoy your…” What was it again? “Mud daubers. Tell Fluttershy hello for us, okay?” Surprise flickered over Snails’ face. Silver prayed the red creeping over his face came from the hot weather and nothing more. “Oh! Yeah, okay! I will, Silver Spoon. Bye, Pinkie!” He left standing taller and laughing that weird croaky laugh of his. Silver bit back a cringe as they moved on. “Professor Pie, did I really have to do that?” Bet he thinks I like him now. Or worse: he thinks I like-like him. She couldn’t bear the thought. Pinkie Pie tilted her head. “Well, why wouldn’t you? Snails is nice.” “I guess, but Pinkie, he’s Snails. Have you seen Snails?” “Of course I saw him, silly,” said Pinkie. “That’s why I went to say hi. Snails deserves to have a nice day like anypony else, right? Look how happy you made him!” Almost over the hill, Snails hummed a tune to himself, happily flicking his paintbrush tail behind him. Why couldn’t they have run into Shady Daze or Featherweight instead? One wouldn’t know it from a glance, but Snails had one of the best memories in class—he’d hold onto this forever. That wouldn’t be so bad, but the colt had no concept of subtlety at all. Two bits said he’d blab this incident to everypony. Hopefully Fluttershy and the mud daubers could take his mind off it. Silver pushed Snails out of her head. Time to get back on track. “What’s our agenda for today, Professor Pie?” A wild white grin flashed across Pinkie’s muzzle. The puffiest part of her tail fluffed up like a cloud full of lightning. She wiggled her shoulders and bit her lip. “Ohhhhh, you know. Just some stuuuuff.” “Ooh.” Silver Spoon didn’t know any of the specialized Pinkie Sense signals yet, but she could hazard some darn good guesses. “Is it a surprise? Is my test today?” She put a hoof to her mouth with a gasp. “Do you think I’m ready?” All Pinkie said was, “Yep!” No hint of worry or teasing in her voice, which could only mean… anything between delivering balloons and the literal apocalypse. Silver sighed, supposing she ought to be grateful. Under Miss Pinkie Pie’s tutelage, a pony only needed to do one thing: ride it out and hope nothing exploded. The certified party pony and her refined apprentice took a series of connected detours through Ponyville’s side roads, front yards, backyards, and a bowling alley. Finally, they arrived at a ragged gate latticed in vines. The breeze carried the sweetness of grapes and honey in it. Glossy blackberry clusters shadowed Silver Spoon’s shoulders as they entered. Around the corner, she could see a shed behind the rows and rows of red grapes. She’d never been in this yard before, but remembered the rusty fence. The roof of the large split-level house had been patched with fresh wheat instead of rye; the stark color difference marked it as an amateur fix. Silver Spoon frowned. I know whose house this is. “We’re heeeere!” sang Professor Pinkie Pie. Berry Pinch’s mom stepped out of the shed, her bushy tail something of a mess. At a glance, she appeared to be the same age as Dinky’s mom, yet she carried herself in a slower, nuanced sort of way. Father would call her a mare who had seen a lot. Her face lit up when she saw them. “There you are, Pinkie Pie! When one rolled around and you still weren’t here, I started to worry. There’s still so much to do—I haven’t even put in the catering orders yet!” The remains of smooshed grapes stained her fetlocks and her fetlocks stained her forehead when she wiped it. “Good thing Pinchy’s still out with Dinky and Bulk’s little brother today. They’ll keep her busy on the other side of town until tonight.” Silver’s mouth fell open with a little gasp. One hoof held to her mouth, she tapped Pinkie’s hoof. “Pinkie Pie? Are we…” She had to whisper for the shame of it. “Late?” “Ah, my sweet naïve faithful student. Still so much for you to learn.” Pinkie sagely nodded to herself and patted the top of Silver’s head. “A party pony is never early or late. We arrive exactly when we mean to.” She glanced at their client’s unamused expression and smiled sheepishly. “But yeah, we’re a teensy bit late.” “Doesn’t matter, you’re here now.” Pinch’s mom wiped her hooves with a rag, nodding to Silver. “Hello, there. The illustrious Silver Spoon, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.” “Yes, ma’am.” She’d never been called illustrious before. Silver smiled, bowing politely. “We meet at last. I’m Berry Pinch’s mother, Berryshine, but you can call me Berry Punch.” A touch of dry amusement tinted her voice. “Everypony else does.” That explained the “Berryshine’s” sign over the door. Silver shook her hoof and took scope of the yard. The vineyard dominated the patch of land—surprisingly big for a backyard—with hardly room for five ponies to stand, much less party. “We’re celebrating inside, right? Otherwise, the Cakes would have mentioned shutting down Sugarcube Corner, and Ponyville likes to have personal parties in their homes.” Silver eyed the patched roof. Plus, it’s cheaper. Pinkie Pie nodded. “You got it, faithful student. It’s little Pinchy’s birthday tomorrow, but we’re gonna have the party tonight so she’ll be extra surprised.” She did a little bounce dance. “She’s gonna be so excited!” “I wish it didn’t come in the middle of wine season,” sighed Miss Punch. “Always so busy this time of year… at least I can count on you to cover the party, Pinkie Pie.” “Me?” Pinkie pointed a hoof at herself and shook her head. “No-no-no, I’m here to get supplies and supervise. I’m not your party pony today…” The nape of Silver’s neck prickled. Ponyfeathers. “Silver Spoon is!” A minor shower of confetti rained down with Professor Pinkie Pie’s applause. “Congratulations! It’s time for you to plan your very first party all by yourself!” Ladies did not panic. Party ponies did not panic. Here was Silver Spoon not panicking at the concept of headlining a custom party for the third worst foal in all of Ponyville with absolutely no idea where to even start. No, Silver Spoon kept her head high and her stance stoic and her voice professional. “W-wonderful, Professor Pie!” Sweat slid down her shoulder blades. “I can’t wait to get started.” “Aw, look at her.” Pinkie Pie dabbed her eye with a handkerchief and sniffed. The corners of her mouth began to wibble. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry.” That didn’t stop a perfectly round saltwater tear from sliding down her cheek. Miss Berry Punch did not share Pinkie’s enthusiasm. “Hold on. A ten-year-old is planning this party?” Worry creased across her brow and in a softer voice, she asked, “Are you sure about this, Pinkie? I don’t think Silver and Pinch are exactly the best of friends.” Pinkie Pie tilted her head until it hung sideways on her neck. “Really? Huh, that’s funny—don’t you guys go to the same school? I would’ve thought they got along great.” Silver sighed. Although Pinkie understood foals far better than many adults, that didn’t make her any less of an adult, and there were some things adults just didn’t get. Silver Spoon could never understand why everypony thought two foals occupying the same space automatically had to be friends. Nopony thought the same of grown ponies, why did they think small ponies were any different? To be fair, this was Pinkie Friends-With-Every-Single-Creature-In-Equestria Pie. Silver couldn’t really blame her. She curled her tail around her hooves as her mentor went into another ramble. Birthday party for Berry Pinch. Can’t be too hard. A smaller obstacle course of social niceties to navigate compared to high tea, and she’d already helped set up an adult’s birthday party last week. Silver nodded to herself. Attack this like any other project: categorize necessities, calculate schedules, coordinate entertainment, and conceptualize theme. She rocked back on her hooves, watching a dragonfly skim over the grapevines. Okay. So, birthday means a party hoof-crafted for the birthday filly. It needs to revolve around things Pinch likes, and Berry Pinch likes… Silver Spoon frowned. Uh, she likes… being an annoying stupid jerk with a stupid face? Not a very solid theme. A million miles away, Pinkie’s voice derailed Silver’s train of thought. “…’cause I mean after all, Berry Pinch and Diamond Tiara are best friends and Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon are super bestest friends, so all three should be super bestest-best friends forever.” Silver Spoon twitched her ears. “I’m sorry, what?” “I know, right?” Pinkie Pie chuckled to herself and shrugged. “It’s so weird. But now, you get to do something even better—plan a party and make a new friend for the very first time!” “Maybe,” put in Berry Punch, “we should just focus on the party part for now?” “Good idea, Miss Punch.” Silver Spoon pulled out her clipboard, already flipped to a fresh page. This would be much easier if Professor Pie kept her schedules in a book instead of in her head. Party’s today, and we got here late, but not late enough for Miss Punch to get mad or yell at us. That means we still have time. And it’s a foal’s party, so it can’t run too late. “Doors open at six, right?” “Uh—yeah. Yeah, that’s right.” Berry Punch glanced at Pinkie Pie, who’d apparently decided to stomp the rest of the grapes for her. “I thought you sprang this on her last minute. Heh, thank goodness you didn’t—” “Nope, I didn’t. Total surprise.” Knee deep in squashed grapes, Pinkie winked at the both of them. “Party pony. Told you.” “Hm. So you’re my party planner.” Though a bit skeptical, Miss Berry Punch seemed to be warming up to the idea. “Okay then, I’ll show you where we’re setting up. How many parties did you help Pinkie with before this one, Silver?” “Five, ma’am. This is my first one for other foals, though.” Stepping out of the bright sunshine, Silver blinked her eyes to adjust to Berryshine’s dim interior. Oil lamps and lightning bug lanterns lit the bar and tables with a relaxed amber glow. A karaoke setup, complete with multiple mics and speakers, sat in the far corner. Bottle green windows let them see the silhouettes of passersby. The scent of oak mingling with wine and hops reminded her a little of their old penthouse’s parlor. A nicer place than Silver remembered. Funny how cozy a place felt when one wasn’t covered in mud. “Can we move these tables? That’ll give us more floor space than a Sugarcube Corner event.” Silver hopped on a bar stool to get a better view. At Punch’s nod, she grinned and jotted down a couple of notes. On the other side of the bar, rows upon rows of bottles too old for Silver Spoon to touch glistened along the wall. “Miss Berry Punch, won’t ponies be grouchy the bar’s closed? It’s going to be closed all night, right?” “They’ll live. A dry night never killed anypony.” Berry Punch reached up to help Silver onto the floor. She hung back, watching Silver scout the rest of the area and take more notes. “Still don’t know why Pinkie needed to test you on this party,” she sighed. Silver’s ears pricked at that worried tone. “Is there something special about this one, Miss Punch?” Quickly, she added, “Not that birthdays aren’t always special, but it kind of sounds like this one is more special than usual?” The mare nodded but didn’t elaborate. “It might help me if I knew why?” The speakers and mic from the karaoke setup could be useful for the entertainment, but Silver couldn’t push forward without a theme. For a theme, she needed more information. She eyed the stairwell behind the bar. “I’d like a look around upstairs, too, if that’s okay.” “Silver Spoon, this is for the party, right?” Miss Punch’s penetrating stare could give Cheerilee a run for her money. She angled her neck down to meet the filly’s eyes. For a young mare, she had a lot of crow’s feet. “Nothing else?” Silver blinked back at her dumbly. “No? What else would there be?” She frowned. What’s Pinch been saying about me? “I was once a filly, too, you know.” Berry Punch spoke gently, but firmly. “And I remember how sometimes foals aren’t always very nice. Sometimes they would use personal information to hurt each other. I do not want this to be one of those times, Silver Spoon.” Maybe some adults understood this kind of thing after all. “It won’t, Miss Punch.” Though now that she mentioned it, that did sound like a slick idea. Pity Silver was still on the clock. “Personal drama is like, so off the table right now. I’m Berry Pinch’s party pony and I’m here to prepare her party perfectly.” She tipped it with a professional nod. “Period.” “So, no funny business.” Miss Punch began to offer a hoofshake, but thought better of it. One ear swiveled toward Pinkie’s grape-squishing song in the backyard. “Pinkie Promise me.” Did this mare moonlight as a contract litigator? Sheesh. “Nothing from today comes back to hurt Berry Pinch; no funny business.” Silver held up a hoof. “Pinkie Promise.” The grape-squishing song went silent. So did the grape squishing. A low thunder rumbled through the bottles and bar stools. The air went deathly still, and a voice eerily like Pinkie Pie’s whispered like an ominous breeze. “The contract is sealed.” Silver Spoon frowned again. “Did you hear that?” Berry Punch looked up from opening the bar. She nodded toward the open stairwell. “Hear what?” “...Nothing.” At the top of the stairs, a weenie dog stared down at them with a long pink tongue hanging out of its mouth. At the sight of Silver Spoon and Berry Punch, it barked and wriggled, smacking the wood with its little doggie claws. Before it got too jumpy, Miss Punch tapped a hoof. “Down, Mr. Dog.” She glanced down at Silver. “Don’t worry; he only bites burglars and ex-coltfriends.” Just in case, Silver pulled close to Miss Punch’s hocks as she followed her up. “So, what’s so special about this party?” “Nothing huge in particular, but…” She rubbed her foreleg with a sigh, eyeing the patch in the roof. “It’s been a while since Pinchy’s had a real birthday party. I tried the past couple of years, but things kept coming up.” Money things, most likely. Silver Spoon glanced at the cracked spines of the Home Businesses for Beginners series lining a bottom bookshelf. This much floor space cost a healthy number of bits, and unlike the Cakes, Berryshine’s seemed to be a one mare show. “I understand, Miss Punch. I’ll do my best.” Berry Punch smiled down at her. “Glad to hear it, honey.” Yellow caution tape crisscrossed the second door to the right, all splattered with pseudo street signs and badly drawn monster faces. Silver restrained the urge to roll her eyes. No prizes guessing which room belonged to Pinch. Berry Punch pulled rank on the NO SNOBS ALLOWED sign and opened the door for Silver Spoon. “Look, but don’t touch.” “Yes, ma’am.” Silver wrinkled her nose at the smell of old pizza and mothballs and dog. Like I’d even want to. She looked back at Miss Punch’s tight expression and sighed. Even if it’s true, that’s not how a party pony’s supposed to think. Let’s get to work. Silver adjusted her glasses and flipped on a light. Okay, Berry Pinch. What makes you smile? Memories of a smiling Pinch ran few and far between, but that’s what research was for. Silver stepped around a half-organized pile of collectible cards of masked ponies to skim through a box of vinyl records. No bands she’d ever heard of—and judging from the drippy blood fonts, skulls, knackermancers, and griffon vocalists, nothing she’d be allowed to listen to. Silver marked down all the albums without advisory stickers and moved on to the action figures posing on a bookshelf. More masked ponies. Interesting. It was also one of the few places in the room not covered in dust. “Are these guys from comic books?” She’d suffered enough lectures from Tornado Bolt to know they weren’t Power Ponies. Their masks covered the entire face, not just the eyes. Not all of them wore bodysuits, either, nor were all of them ponies. A couple of minotaurs, griffons, and even a dragon lurked in the crowd. Many of them had missing ears, horns, or teeth. “That’s Pinchy’s E.E.W. collection.” At Silver Spoon’s utter bafflement, Berry Punch explained, “Equestrian Entertainment Wrestling.” She pointed at the rearing pony in the center: a blood red mare dressed in black and white, frothing at the mouth with a long braided mane bannering behind her. “Whip Warrior’s her favorite.” Now that she’d been pointed out, Silver suddenly noticed the braided pony everywhere. Warrior appeared countless times in the pile of collector cards. A replica of her mask hung from the bedpost. Notebooks, shirts, and cups, all marked by a W.W. made of braids. In poster after overlapping poster, she pounced off the top rope to tackle opponents—especially one particular white mare dressed in gold. An archrival, Silver guessed. Silver’s eyes trailed across the wrestling posters to a tackboard by the messy desk. She rose to her hind legs for a better look. Nothing particularly interesting: ticket stubs, hoof-drawn comic strips, and overlapping reminder notices… and a corner of a photograph poking out from under a report card. “Hm.” Little claws tapped against the wood floor. “Hey, hey—no! No, Mr. Dog. Out!” In the corner of Silver’s eye, Miss Punch fought to shove the weenie dog out of the room. “Go lay down.” Silver’s instructions had been clear: look, don’t touch. But if one had to touch in order to look, that sort of cancelled it out, right? It couldn’t hurt too much. Gently, Silver Spoon flipped up the report card and lifted her eyebrows. In a sunfaded photograph, a younger Berry Pinch and Diamond Tiara gave Mr. Dog (more like Mr. Puppy) a bath. In another, they laughed and blew raspberries in the Riches’ living room. Silver couldn’t tell if they’d just been through a tornado or a tickle fight. Wait. A fight. The papers fell back into place before Miss Punch turned back around. Silver scanned the room one last time and nodded to herself. The pen scribbled fast across the clipboard. Silver Spoon had her theme. Silver cupped her hooves around her mouth. “Pinkie Pie!” “Woop!” Pinkie’s grape-stained face poked through the round window. How she got to the second story so fast, Silver didn’t even want to know. She smiled with violet teeth. “Hi again! Got everything ya need, Silvy-wilvy?” Silver nodded and showed her the notes, supply list, and rough sketches. “We’ll need to borrow some mats from the gym—the big ones—and some colored rope. Go for the heavy-duty streamers we used last week. Then we need a bell, a size five tux, and a cake that looks like…” Quickly, she flipped to the last page. “This.” Pinkie Pie loomed over the notes. “Alright. In that case, I’ve got one question for you, faithful student.” Her eyes narrowed into thin, serious slits. “Are. You. Ready. To. Party?” “Please. The correct question is, Professor Pie…” Silver’s designer glasses flashed in the light. A toothy but tastefully sized smile curled her lips. “Is the party ready for me?” Pinkie elbowed Berry Punch in the ribs and winked. “Ooooh, she’s good.” Miss Punch chuckled. “I’m curious. How long did it take you to come up with that line?” “About twenty minutes,” said Silver Spoon. “Thirty, counting the tea break.” “Fillies and gentlecolts, I cannot be-LIEVE what I’m seeing right now! It’s astounding! It’s abominable! Is this even allowed?” Pinkie Pie bent backwards over the ropes, rumpling her tux as she clambered over the makeshift wrestling ring. She covered her eyes with a hoof so she wouldn’t have to see Berry Pinch drag the lassoed cake to the center of the ring. “I can barely look, folks!” A cluster of foals bounced on the gym mats coating Berryshine’s floor, struggling to see over each other’s shoulders. Scootaloo buzzed her wings to get some air over The Dink’s shoulder, beating little wafts of air over the white and gold cake. Apple Bloom snatched her tail and dragged Scootaloo down before she accidentally blew out a candle. They both said something, but Silver couldn’t hear them over the thumping music and Pinkie’s amplified commentary. Berry Pinch stuck out her tongue in concentration. The cake knife beside her hooves slowly rose into the air, wobbling in the flimsy green light of her horn. Behind her Whip Warrior mask, the merciless filly grinned. An effigy cake decked out in the colors of Warrior’s greatest rival lay helpless beneath her hooves. Pinkie gasped so hard she almost swallowed the microphone. “Knives in the ring?! Where is the ref? I know The Whip Warrior and Golden Guerilla have had their differences, but this is going too far! But—wait! WAIT! Is that? Yes!” A wild hoof swung in The Dink’s direction. “It’s The Knacker on the sidelines!” The Dink tipped her huge black top hat (not an exact match for The Knacker, but close enough) over her eyes and shook her head. Berry Pinch met “The Knacker’s” gaze and seemed to think it over. She nodded, put down the knife, and took a breath over the candles. “Nope, she’s doing it legit, folks! I think it’s lights out for Golden Guerilla.” Pinkie wriggled through the black and red ropes, mane dragging along the mat and the mic half in her mouth. Eleven candles went up in smoke. The theme music went wild. The crowd screamed. Blood red streamers rained down from the rafters. “That’s all she wrote, folks! Time to call it—ready? Three…two…one…” A mighty cry erupted from the pits of the bloodthirsty crowd. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BERRY PINCH!” Silver Spoon peered over one of the many chairs that framed the borders of the ring and applauded politely. She stalked the sidelines, observing the happy buzz of partygoers. Another impressed gasp rose from the crowd as Berry swung her head up, mouth full of the great chunk bitten out of the cake. Red velvet had been a good call. Berry Pinch’s grin hadn’t left her face since the party started. Silver nodded to herself. “Looks like an A-plus to me.” That called for a celebration tea. Ladies never cut through wrestling rings (especially not when everypony was muzzle-deep in cake) so she detoured around the long way. Not by coincidence, it also served as an easy way to listen in on the crowd. “—not one of Pinkie’s this time,” said Shady Daze. The message slipped through the crowd and voices bubbled over each other in confusion. “Not Pinkie?” “No way, she does all the parties. And besides, she’s right there, she must have!” “Nuh-uh, that’s not what I heard.” “Then you heard wrong.” That one sounded like Rumble. “Who else could it be?” “Nope, I asked Pinks myself,” muffled Dinky around a mouthful of cake. “She says it’s—get this—Spoons!” “Shut up.” “Seriously?” squeaked Sweetie Belle. “She did this? Silver Spoon?” “Don’t tell me to shut up, Cloudy. YOU shut up.” “I can’t believe it,” said Apple Bloom. “Was it like just the decorations or—” “She told me Silver planned the whole thing. Even the wrestling stuff.” Pinkie Pie stepped in with plates and drinks. “Especially the wrestling stuff!” She caught sight of Silver passing by and mouthed “nailed it”. Silver humbly waved back and capped off her victory lap. A table awaited her in a faraway corner of the bar, complete with a simple kettle of Earl Grey. She nodded to Miss Punch, who watched from the bar in case anypony needed anything. Far from the ring, Silver mixed in her sugar and observed Shady and Snails’ impromptu game of battletag. Planner or not, nobody had directly invited her, and today wasn’t the day to become a party crasher. She’d live. Pounding drums and squealing guitars did not need to be near Silver Spoon’s ears, thank you. The satisfaction of a job well done is enough. That’s what Mother always told her. Silver’s ears twitched at the sound of her name being spoken of kindly. Well, a job well done and an improved reputation. So when the birthday girl showed up at her table twenty minutes later, Silver Spoon couldn’t help but be concerned. “Hi, Berry Pinch. Happy birthday.” She studied the less than ecstatic body language of the pink unicorn and felt her own smile falter. “Everything alright with the party?” A smile did come to Pinch’s face, but not the sort Silver wanted: not happy, but placating. “Nah, it’s not that. Party’s awesome, Silver Spoon.” The smile got a bit brighter. “No, I mean it’s really awesome. I’ve never had anything like this before.” Her magic picked at the red doily under Silver’s black saucer. “You even got all the colors right. Thanks.” “Oh.” Well, that wasn’t so bad. “You’re welcome.” “So, you really did this? Like, all of…” Pinch bobbed her head, indicating the throat-scream music, wrestling ring, and blood red streamers. “Doesn’t really seem like your kind of party.” “Trust me, it’s not. At all.” Silver sipped her tea and shrugged. “But this one’s not mine—it’s yours. I don’t do bad work and you needed a party. That’s all there is to it.” “Yeah. Guess that makes sense.” Pinch took a seat and removed her wrestler mask. “So. Okay, today when I went out exploring with the guys, I had a talk with Featherweight. He told me lots of stuff about how you helped him with his photographs a few months ago.” Red flag. Slowly, Silver put down her cup. “Oh, he did? What else did he say?” “Stuff. A lot of stuff.” She rubbed the back of her sweaty ears, glancing back at the ring. “We also all went into that big cave under the library today. With all the cutie marks and names and stuff? The Dink says you and her were the ones who found it first. She also says you’re pretty cool when you want to be.” “She does?” Nopony had ever called Silver Spoon cool before. Elegant, intimidating, and (just today) illustrious, but not cool. Never cool. “Uh-huh. The Dink says I should give you the benefit of the doubt, so that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m just gonna ask you upfront—don’t do that thing you do and try to weasel out of it, okay?” Berry Pinch had inherited her mom’s awful, steely gaze. “I…” Was there even anything else to say to that? “Okay.” In a low voice, she asked, “Silver, did you mess up Diamond’s gig at the paper?”