Forgotten in Manehattan

by Locomotion

Chapter 2: Caramel's New Friend

Nearly an hour had passed, and the sky was now ablaze with a mixture of blue, orange and yellow as the sun slowly dipped towards the horizon, ready to make way for the moon. One by one, many of the local creatures were tiredly returning to their setts, burrows, nests and warrens for the night, and the only sounds to be heard for miles around were the gentle rustling of leaves in the autumn breeze, accompanied by a soft, soothing chirping sound of a lonely cricket; but even this did little to comfort the tan-furred Earth pony trudging aimlessly through the countless groves of apple trees, head hanging with guilt and sorrow.

Not for the first time in his life, Caramel felt utterly worthless. He had tried his level best for the Apple Family, just as he had always done, but he had only succeeded in spilling a whole basketful of apples, wrecking the cart in which he was supposed to be transporting them, and generally causing an even greater headache for his employers. Just by bothering to exist at all, he had lost a vital piece of farm equipment and caused delay, and to cap it all, he had injured himself to the point where he was unable to make up for his mishaps.

But why, he lamented? Why did everything he said or did end up in broken fences, bruised apples or damaged farm equipment? Why couldn't he complete even a simple task such as apple sorting without a slip-up of some kind? Why did he have to be such a burden on the Apple Family? And far more importantly, why were they still bothering to employ some clumsy, dimwitted buffoon such as him? They had provided him with a home, a secure job, a steady income – they had provided him with almost everything he needed, and yet he kept failing them. So why were they looking past his faults as if nothing had happened?

“Who am I kidding?” he thought aloud. “That Discovery guy's right; I'm nothing but a walking disaster. Why should anypony want me around?”

Gingerly, so as not to hurt his sprained knee, he lay himself down in the midst of one of the groves and buried his face in his right foreleg, sobbing quietly to himself as he let loose the tears that had been building up in his eyes over the last hour or so. As he lay there in the soft, lush grass, he thought back to all the other mishaps that he had caused since he had first arrived here, and how much annoyance they had caused for Granny Smith, for Big Macintosh, for Applejack...

Applejack – that name had always stuck with Caramel since before he had even begun working here. He had known the orange-furred mare a lot longer than he had known the rest of the family, and to this day, he still greatly admired her charm, her good looks, her honest, humble demeanour, but most of all her strong work ethic. She wasn't like most of the mares and fillies he had seen in his youth; they were usually more interested in the latest clothing fashions and their own appearances, and the very idea of putting themselves to good use on such a vast, muddy, yet very important workplace as an orchard would have been enough to make them recoil in disgust. But how ironic it was to think that Applejack's attitude had once been more or less the same...

---

Caramel's life in Manehattan had always been difficult for him, even before that fateful turn of events that would eventually lead him to a fresh start in Ponyville. The tan-coated colt had come from a wealthy background; his mother was a well-respected socialite and local benefactress, and his father worked as an Equestrian ambassador over in the faraway kingdom of Saddle Arabia. And yet, even though he had that going for him, Caramel always seemed to fail completely at making friends, though for what reason, he could never seem to understand.

Was it to do with his overall personality? Was there something about him that other ponies didn't appreciate? Or was it simply that he came across as a complete loser? He knew it couldn't possibly be anything to do with the way he spoke; busy though her schedule was, his mother cared about him a great deal, and always set some time aside so that she could teach him the language and manners of a true gentlecolt. So how was it that, despite being so polite and considerate, that so many other fillies and colts avoided him like the pony pox?

No matter how hard he tried to find the answer to these questions – nay, mysteries – they always seemed to evade him along with all those other fillies and colts. Even though his mother was always there to lend him a sympathetic ear, he felt like nopony truly cared for him; it was almost as if fate had intended for him to lead a lonely, empty life.

But one day, when he was about eight years old, that was all about to change, even if only for a short while. That morning, he and his mother had gone out for a stroll in Central Park, and as usual, Caramel was getting no end of grief from every other filly or colt who happened to be passing by. Whenever he caught sight of anypony else looking in his direction, he would nod politely back to them; but no matter what he did, they just sniffed and held their heads up high, sometimes muttering something vulgar to themselves about being far out of his league.

Needless to say, Caramel felt deeply hurt. “I don't understand,” he sighed unhappily. “Why does everypony I meet seem to treat me like an outcast? And after all I've done to try and live up to Manehattanite standards?”

“Cheer up, son,” soothed his mother, gently nuzzling against the side of his head in a bid to reassure him. “I'm sure there will be somepony out there who appreciates you for who you are.”

“I wish I could believe that,” muttered Caramel pathetically.

“No, really, Caramel,” insisted his mother, “just because so many other fillies and colts around here are so shallow and vain doesn't mean that nopony will ever like you. Look at me, for example; I've been looking after you ever since you were born, but have you ever heard me complaining?”

Caramel didn't reply. He knew his mother had a point, but after all those other failed attempts at making friends, he still couldn't see anypony else appreciating him at all, let alone to the same extent as she did.

Eventually, the two ponies came to a small lake in the middle of the park, at which point his mother decided to sit down for a while and read through her favourite magazine. Caramel, meanwhile, chose to take a quick trot around the lake and maybe pick up a hot-dog from a nearby stall; but just as he was about halfway round, he noticed a flash of orange against an otherwise green and dull grey background out of the corner of his eye.

Puzzled, he stopped in his tracks and looked over in the direction of whatever it was that had caught his attention. When at last he found it, he could only stare in awe, for there, wandering aimlessly among some nearby trees, was a filly of about a year or so older than him whom he had never seen before. She was orange in colour with a blonde mane and tail, the former of which appeared to have been done in a somewhat ill-fitting “beehive” style, and she had a soft, humble, innocent glint in her leaf-green eyes, which seemed to glance up at the trees every so often as if she expected something to suddenly appear on them. Overall, Caramel found this newcomer rather attractive.

As he watched from afar, the orange filly eventually shook her head resignedly and plodded back towards the lake, muttering incoherently to herself. Maybe now would be a good opportunity to...wait a minute, he interrupted himself, what was he doing? Plenty of other fillies and colts had rejected him the moment he had introduced himself – why should this one be any different? For a moment or two, he could do little more than dither nervously on the spot, trying to make up his mind until he noticed that the filly was walking in his direction. Only then did he manage to make up his mind; if this filly really did want to talk to him, then he was darned if he was going to let the opportunity pass.

“Um...hello,” he stammered shyly.

The filly looked up at him with a small, polite smile. “Good morning to you,” she replied graciously. “Lovely weather we're having, wouldn't you say, dear?”

Caramel opened his mouth to reply, but so taken aback was he that the words just stuck in his throat. Nopony outside of his family had ever spoken so politely to him before; but what really surprised him was that the tone with which the filly had just spoken didn't sound very convincing for a Manehattanite. There was a very awkward silence as he stared at her in confusion, causing the newcomer to raise an eyebrow.

“Is anything the matter?” questioned the filly at last.

Caramel paused again, a hint of unease creeping into his expression. “I, uh...I don't mean to be rude or anything,” he stuttered, “but...that accent of yours...it...well, with all due respect, I...”

“My what now?”

“The tone with which you just spoke,” Caramel clarified. “I hope you'll forgive me for saying this, but...well, you kinda sounded like you were faking it.”

The filly blinked, her expression changing to one of mild dismay. “Did I really?”

“Um...to be frank, yes, you did,” admitted Caramel. Right now, he was beginning to regret what he had just said; that was probably yet another potential friendship out of the window, he thought.

To his utter disbelief, however, the filly looked down at her front hooves with a sigh of defeat. “Ah'm awful sorry, y'all,” she apologised profusely. “Yo' right; Ah was fakin' that 'accent' or whatever ya call it, an' that's 'cause Ah ain't from around these parts.”

If Caramel had been surprised earlier, he was now truly flabbergasted. Just like that, the filly's tone had changed from a poor attempt at a well-spoken Manehattan accent to a thick Southern drawl. “A-aren't you?” he blurted out, stunned.

“Nope – Ah only just moved up 'ere from Ponyville a couple o' days ago,” explained the filly. “Ah used ta live on an orchard with mah parents, mah older brother an' mah Granny Smith, but Ah wanted to try mah hoof at bein' a high society filly, so Ah decided ta move in with mah Aunt Seville Orange an' mah Uncle Moseley Orange. Only thing is,” she went on ruefully, “this city life is sure takin' a lot o' gettin' used to; it's a lot noisier out 'ere than it was at home fo' a start, an' this Manehattanite voice Ah'm havin' ta speak with just don't sound right.”

“Then why are you even bothering with it?”

“So Ah can fit in is all,” said the filly. “Mah aunt an' uncle seem ta think mah normal tone's a tad too quaint fo' them posh ponies.”

At this point, Caramel could only smile faintly at this Ponyville interloper. Knowing as he did what it was like to be judged by one's looks, manners and language alone, he felt rather sorry for her. “I don't,” he countered at last. “I actually think it's...well, kinda cute.”

“Cute?” The filly looked as though she could hardly believe her ears. “Ya mean...ya don't mind me talkin' la'k this?”

Caramel laughed heartily. “Mind? I think I rather prefer that kind of accent to some boring, hoity-toity Manehattanite any day,” he smirked.

Only then did the smile return to the flattered filly's face. “Well, Ah...Ah'm glad ta hear ya think so,” she replied, blushing slightly. Then, in a somewhat shy tone, she uttered the words that Caramel had been longing to hear for years on end; “You, er...wanna be friends?”

Caramel's face lit up. “Really?” he gushed. “Aw, you bet I do, Miss, um...what's your name?”

“Ah'm Applejack.”

“My name's Caramel,” the tan-coated colt responded in kind. “Nice to meet you, Applejack.”

---

After that, Caramel's life seemed to improve tenfold. Far from feeling lonely and isolated, he began to feel a lot brighter now that he actually had somepony else in his life apart from his own mother, and would spend as much time with Applejack as either one could fit in, especially whenever both were invited to the same social event. Every time they attended a dinner party, they would sit side by side with their hooves intertwined beneath the table, and on occasion, one would come round to hang out at the other's home.

But most of the time, they were to be found frolicking playfully around Central Park, not too far from the very lake where they had first met. Even when they weren't playing tag or having a race, Caramel would listen intently as Applejack told him what her life had been like in Ponyville. As time went on, however, she became rather distant, and her enthusiasm seemed to wane. Caramel noticed this, and naturally was rather worried. As they rested in the shade of an old sycamore tree one afternoon, he decided to ask what was bothering her.

Applejack heaved a deep, longing sigh. “Ah'll be honest with y'all, Caramel; Ah'm startin' ta doubt whether the city life really is the right life fo' me after all,” she replied glumly. “Ah kinda miss bein' among a' them groves of apple trees back where Ah used ta live; out 'ere, there don't seem ta be a single apple tree fo' miles.”

Caramel smiled weakly in an attempt to reassure the orange-coated filly. Even though he had never been away from Manehattan in all his life, and therefore didn't know what it was like to be homesick, it was clear to him that Applejack was going through that exact same phase, and once again, he felt sorry for her. “Aw, never mind, Applejack,” he soothed. “You never know there could be an orchard on the outskirts of Manehattan; if there was, you and I could probably go and take a look around sometime. How's that sound?”

“If there is such a place,” murmured Applejack wistfully.

“There could be,” said Caramel brightly. At that precise moment, an idea flew into his head; “Tell you what, how about...we go see a movie or something? I bet that'd make a nice change from all those dinners and play-dates.”

Applejack paused for a moment to consider this. “Um...yeah, sounds la'k a plan, Ah guess.”

“Okay then. Shall we say...ten o'clock tomorrow morning?”

“Suits me,” conceded Applejack; and with that, the two foals trotted cheerfully back to Caramel's house.