The Last Vacation

by Noble Thought

Chapter 9: From Here to Where?

The diner had as much retro furnishing as her quick glance from outside suggested. Bright, sparkle-speckled red cushions covered nearly every place a person could conceivably sit, leaving only the bartop and tables free of the shining vinyl, cracked where people actually sat, but polished to a shine where they didn’t.

Pinkie and Fluttershy were already sitting at the bar, Pinkie talking animatedly to the cook on the other side while he scribbled furiously on a pad, frowning and nodding, replying occasionally in a low, growling voice. Fluttershy was peering at a laminated menu that looked as though it hadn’t been updated since the Seventies.

Twilight hesitated, took a step towards the bar, and stopped when Rainbow didn’t follow.

“Come on,” Rainbow said, grabbing her hand and drawing her over to a booth. “Let’s get your mind off worrying.”

“Okay…” She let herself be pulled along and guided to sit down next to a glowing neon sign advertising Cud Lite. “How?”

“Uh... “ Rainbow shrugged for a moment, then settled back into the seat. “Talk, I guess. But none of that science stuff. That’s too much like schoolwork” Rainbow jabbed a finger into her palm. “The point of going on vacation is to get away from everything that bugs you. So, don’t even think about thinking about any of that crud.”

“A-and talking will help?” She twisted a lock of hair, then gathered another and made a short braid before letting it go. “About what?”

“Anything. Except science. I mean, you’d put me to sleep, something exciting. Like sports. Or travelling. Or…” Rainbow shrugged. “Um, anything. Like, um. Video games.”

“Fashion?” Twilight grinned.

Rainbow smirked, rolling her eyes theatrically. “Ugh. No. Something interesting. But not school related.”

“And nothing about us.”

“Yep! Don’t worry about relationships.” Rainbow tapped her fingers on the table, touched her friendship bracelet and its many-colored shells. After a long moment, she shrugged. “Uh… how about sports? You start.”

“Hm. Well, okay.” Twilight tapped her fingers on the tabletop, noting the faded white patches amid sparkling red on the lacquered table surface. Something sporty. Badminton? She shook her head—still too close to talking about relationships. But she couldn’t stop her thoughts from circling back around to Rainbow Dash, worrying if they had something, anything. “So… you said you played a game against the Shadowcolts before we went on vacation?”

“Yeah! Cloudkicker got the winning goal, but it wouldn’t have been possible if I hadn’t made an end-run around their entire defensive flank.” The table became the field, and Rainbow’s fingers traced out the positions of what had to be the defensive line, and then the lone finger going wide around it. “That was awesome! Like, Clement Clouds, their goalie, never even saw it coming.” A raised chunk of lacquer, trapping some invisible ridge, became the goal, and the ball zipped from one finger to the next, then at an oblique angle into it.

“So… you were tied?” She ran a finger through a narrow trough, just a dip, really, that a recent lacquering hadn’t been able to cover completely, and wondered why it was there. It was about where the stadium seating would be—where she would have been had she gone.

“Yeah. Zip-zip. I mean, they’re pretty solid as a team, but they just aren’t good enough. The Wondercolts have been top dog for, like, the entire time I’ve been here. Before that… pft. I mean, they did okay before, but now that I’m on the team, we’re unstoppable.”

“And what about, um, volleyball? Pinkie said you were a player there, too?”

“What about it?” Rainbow’s quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, you mean when’s our next game?”

“Yeah. Or… how do you stand up against the Shadowcolts there?”

“Eh…” Rainbow made a rocking motion with her hand. “I gotta admit they’re pretty good on that front. Especially their heavy hitter, Lightning Dust, but she’s really more of a track and field girl, like me. She doesn’t play soccer, though, but I have run a lot of races against her, and she’s pretty dang fast.” She jabbed a thumb at her chest. “But not as fast as me.”

“Oh. And badminton?” That was the only sport she had ever played with any kind of enthusiasm, despite parents who had tried to get her interested in t-ball and soccer—and given up after a few years. She peered closely at the trough, dismissing the likeness of a divot left when she’d stumbled after swinging her bat and falling down.

She drew a circle beside it with a finger, outlining a plate. It must have been where a fork had been placed, day after day, year after year. She ran a finger through it again. “It’s really the only sport I’ve ever played. You know, aside from croquet with my family, and I’m not sure that’s even a sport. I mean, historically, it was…” She trailed off, shrugged. “Never mind.”

Rainbow was watching her with pursed lips, brows furrowing. “Well, the school doesn’t really have competitive badminton. I don’t think any school does. It’s just fluffy.” She reached out to touch Twilight’s wrist, fingers tracing out the friendship bracelet Fluttershy and Rarity had made for her. “I mean, it’s fun, don’t get me wrong, and it was great playing with you yesterday.”

“It was. But I don’t think…” She shrugged.

“You’re not really into sports are you? I can tell you’ve been trying since… well, since I’ve known you. But it’s cool, it’s not your thing, and if it’s not your thing, it’s not your thing.” Rainbow shrugged, looking away, blushing as though she had just admitted some great secret, and fidgeted with the band of her bracelet.

Twilight shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her. “Not really. I mean, I try to be because I know you and Applejack really like it, but what really interests me is science.” She paused, unfolding her hands like she were sharing an equally important secret, one that might have been a secret still if not for her friends. “And magic.”

The door banged open and Rarity darted in, holding her arms over her head, Applejack close behind with one hand on her stetson, both of them followed by a rising gust of wind that ruffled the menus in their holder and set the fans to whirling briefly.

“Gonna have to make it a quick lunch, ladies,” Applejack said over a chorus of greetings and questions about the gas. “Got a hard blow rolling in, and I’d like ta make it back afore it hits.”

Lunch came in a flash, with plates being tapped down almost as soon as the wind passed. Applejack urged them on, eyes glued to the TV perched in the corner of the long bar, watching the steady line of red advancing on the tiny blip that was Hayseed, even as she snarfed down a full stack burger and a basket of fries.

“I kinda had a feeling this would happen,” Pinkie explained in between bites of a burger that left juice dribbling down her chin as she demonstrated with her twitching fingers—a symptom that Twilight had associated with her over-indulgence in sugar but been informed was a semi-mystical prediction ability. “When there’s a twitchy pinkie—” She waggled the pinkie on her left hand. “—There’s a bad storm a’comin’, so I ordered for everyone!”

“Good thing ya did,” Applejack muttered, sitting beside Rarity. She jerked a thumb at the TV, where the leading edge of dark green was almost atop the little blip. “If you’d waited, we mighta been stuck in here until the blow passed.”

Outside, the few trees visible were swaying back and forth, looking as loose as grass in a wind that howled against the sides of the diner and rattled the windows. The van, parked just outside now, shook visibly in particularly strong gusts.

Even the noon-day sun was swiftly slipping away as clouds swept in, and Twilight focused on downing her food before the green and red line got too close to the little dot that marked where they were.

In between bites, she traded glances with Rainbow, who smiled back and patted her knee with one hand.

“We’ll figure it out,” the pat seemed to say, “later.”

---

Twilight gripped her phone tighter, unable to see even to the side of the road past the curtain of water cascading down the window, never mind that it felt as dark as night outside in between rippling flashes of lightning.

Applejack had slowed their progress steadily after leaving the diner, first driving the full speed limit of sixty, then forty, and finally slowing to a crawling pace of ten almost half an hour later, hazard blinkers clicking mutely in the thunderous deluge that battered the van.

“At least we didn’t get stuck at the diner,” Rarity said loudly from the front passenger seat. “If I’d had any more of my shake—thank you for that by the way, Pinkie, it hit the spot—I would never have heard the end of it from my butt.”

“And we might still get stuck,” Applejack muttered as she slowed, flicked on the high beams, and peered forward into the storm, a half-smile almost hidden in the half-light and flashing bursts of lightning. “But your butt’s just fine, Rares.”

“Now, yes.” Rarity sniffed, turning a look on Pinkie. “I still don’t understand how you can put away two and not even gain an ounce, Pinkie Pie. It’s just not fair.”

“Metabowhatsits.” Pinkie chirped and shot Rarity a beaming smile, as devoid of sarcasm as it was cheerful. “Does a body good!”

Rarity shot her a glare in return and turned her attention ahead again as Applejack set the brake. “How long do you think the storm is going to last?” she asked.

“Dunno. Radar showed it movin’ pretty swift in places, but skewed to run along the coast, and it chased us for a good while. Hour, maybe?” Applejack settled back into the seat, folded her arms behind her head, and smiled. “Just enjoy it, y’all. Not often ya get a front row seat to a storm like this. Pretty neat, if I do say so.”

“It’s actually rather peaceful,” Fluttershy said. She drew a fog image of her pet rabbit in the window, smiling at it, or at the thundering downpour—Twilight couldn’t tell which. “It’s like a meditation CD.”

Rainbow Dash was engrossed in some sports app on her phone, flicking through scores and brackets and game highlight clips. “Yeah. ‘Least there’s decent cell reception.”

And Twilight was watching, too, leaned over with her head almost on Rainbow’s shoulder, trying to gather enthusiasm for the statistical portions of the games, or at least look it. But her attention kept on returning to the phone clutched in her hand, wondering if Sunset was okay, or if she should try texting again, or if she should give up the pretense of secrecy and just call.

Except Sunset had asked her not to tell them, and calling her right then would be as much as telling them that all was not well with their friend.

But she could lie. She could call her, telling her friends that she just wanted to see if Sunset had weathered the storm okay. It must have come from around Canterlot, after all, as one of the early spring storms that swept across the plains from coast to coast, barely pausing to hop over the hills between Manehattan and Canterlot’s outlying farming villages in between.

So, she could. But then came the matter of what to say to Sunset so as not to rouse her friends’ suspicions, and that came with the problem of “What if it’s worse than what it sounds like?” What then? What if Sunset wanted to go, but couldn’t because she’s seriously ill?

She flipped her phone open and opened the last message to read again. ‘Looking forward to talking to you.’ Depressed, maybe, but also looking forward to her call. She breathed in, listening to the thunder rumble while Rainbow giggled and tapped on another video. Everything would turn out okay. Maybe not as she hoped or planned, but it would turn out okay.

Rainbow, to all appearances oblivious to her worries, laughed at herself dancing the funky chicken near the goal box while the score read 1-0 and the time 90:00 on the scoreboard. “I look like such a dork!”

“Yeah,” Twilight murmured, sitting up back into her own seat. “Pretty silly!”

Rainbow cocked her head slightly to the side, eyes on the phone in Twilight’s hand—she hadn’t realized the screen was still visible. “Hey, how’s Sunset doin’? She doin’ better?”

She just barely managed to keep from snapping the phone closed. That would be suspicious. “Yeah. She’s fine, just misses us, I guess.” Then she closed the phone, smiled, and slipped it into her pocket. They didn’t need to know about her worries… they were probably just all in her head, and this was a vacation—as they kept reminding her.

“Good! Hey, maybe you could text her and tell her we miss her, too?”

“Sure. As soon as we get—”

Her phone buzzed, then jingled in her pocket, making her jump. Hurriedly, she pulled it out and glanced at the number—not Sunset. She showed the number to Rainbow, who shrugged, put her phone away, and leaned in close.

“Answer it.”

After the second ring, she did. “Hello?” She could hear the echo of the rain on the van’s roof hissing through the connection and covered the speaker with a hand.

“Hey!” The voice was familiar. “Twilight, it’s Sonata Dusk.” Minutely, she heard: “It’s Twilight, she answered,” as confusion fogged thought.

“Oh…” Sonata Dusk, one of their enemies—or were they enemies now—was calling her. Why?

Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Who is it?”

“It’s Sonata.”

Rainbow blinked, eyes widening. “What! How’d she get your number? I didn’t even know they had phones.”

Twilight shushed her with a motion. “I don’t know—” She shook her head. “Sonata, how did you get my number?”

Rainbow leaned in close, cheek to cheek, until she could have let the phone go, and it wouldn’t fall, pressed as it was between them.

“Flash asked me to call you. You know, Flash Sentry.”

She did know, and it was all she could do to keep from groaning aloud, pressing a finger to her temple.

“He tried to kiss—” Sonata cut off. “Oh. He didn’t want me to tell you that. Sorry!”

She smiled, so Flash was there, probably had coerced the siren into calling her, but apparently Sonata was as ditzy as she had seemed in the times when she wasn’t singing. She could just imagine him frantically waving her off. The last she had heard, Flash had been more than a little upset with the Sirens—more than most of the school anyway. So why was she even there, and why had he trusted her so far?

“So, why are you calling me and not him?” She jumped as lightning flashed and thunder cracked, whiting the world for a moment and drawing startled yelps from everyone in the van.

Sonata continued, “Because he said you wouldn’t talk to him.” True enough. “He wants to apologize. So do I. Again, I mean.”

Twilight blinked, shooting a glance at Rainbow, who looked just as startled, and mouthed a ‘What?’ so clearly Twilight giggled.

“Oh. To you, not to him. Um. So… he’s sorry he said all those things to you, and I’m sorry I sorta made him say them. He really does like you. Or…”

Twilight shared another look with Rainbow.

“No? Other you? Oh, that’s right. Flash was seriously crushing on other—”

Twilight laughed, she couldn’t help it listening to Flash’s muffled voice in the background and the clacking and swooshing noises coming through the line. They must have been fighting over the phone. Just the image of it made her laugh all the harder, and even Rainbow was cracking up.

“I am not making it worse. I’m apologizing,” came through tinnily, and clearer: “That can’t be worse, can it?”

She clapped a hand over her mouth and put it on speakerphone, just in time for Flash’s strangled shout to come through.

“Just give me the phone! I’ll apologize myself!” A moment later, louder: “Twilight, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know she was crazy!”

She fumbled for the volume control, struggling against the laughter she and Rainbow were caught in, and managed: “No, it’s not worse,” before dissolving into helpless giggles, reinforced by Rainbow prodding at her side and laughing herself silly.

Every other pair of eyes was on her, and she pushed down on the laughter, but that made the pressure that much harder to laugh.

“I didn’t tell her what to say! Can you forgive me for saying what I said?” A slight pause, then, “And can you forgive Sonata?”

“Oh, Flash.” That almost broke the laughter, his sincerity and the tense note in his voice but then Rainbow was tickling her again, or trying to in between laughing. “I forgive you. And you, Sonata. You just made my day, but I’ve gotta go.” Rainbow was overcoming her own mirth, fingers probing under the hem of Twilight’s shirt. “Rainbow’s trying to—”

Out of nowhere, Pinkie was tickling her from the other side, somehow wrapped around Fluttershy’s seat and squeezed in between the seat and the sliding van door. Twilight squealed, managed to keep hold of the phone by the barest of margins, giggling madly, gasping for breath, squirming to get away, failing because of her seatbelt, and thrashed about on the seat, trapped in between two ticklers who were, themselves, laughing like mad scientists.

The phone thumped to the floor, and the battery popped out.

As if the phone falling apart were a signal, the tickling stopped, but Twilight kept on giggling in between gasping breaths, and neither Pinkie Pie nor Rainbow Dash seemed ready to leave the tangle of limbs. Not even Fluttershy, trapped in her seat by Pinkie laying across her lap, or Applejack and Rarity, leaning far out of their seats to watch and looking bemused, seemed ready to break it up.

She had to admit, too, that the warmth bubbling in her chest, and the pattern of rainbow light flickering across the backs of her eyelids when she closed her eyes, was stronger than ever. Even the red she’d come to associate with Sunset Shimmer glowed brighter, stretching off into the west beyond the horizon, convincing her that all was right.

---

Of course, other concerns percolated through her mind while they waited for the storm to lighten enough to drive again, and by the time it did, she was back to worrying. Not about Sunset Shimmer—she only had to close her eyes to see the glowing red line branching out from the tangled rainbow glowing all around her—but about Rainbow Dash.

Mostly it had to do with her inability to talk to Rainbow Dash about sports without getting bored, and trying to hide that boredom—not that she was successful, apparently. It just wasn’t interesting to her in the same way it obviously was to Rainbow, and most of the sports she could participate in any meaningful way with her were ‘fluffy’ and not as interesting as ‘real’ sports.

Rainbow wouldn’t ever say that to her, of course. She was brash, sometimes harsh, but when she had a chance to sit and think, or wasn’t pressured, she was very thoughtful. It didn’t happen often and mostly seemed to be a concession to her anyway.

That only added to the feeling that nothing about the day’s events, aside from waking up almost kissing her, suggested anything was underneath the surface of their friendship, and certainly nothing like true love. At least, not the kind that she saw between Cadance and Shining Armor. Maybe it would take more time to develop, but nothing about them suggested a common ground to start from.

Well, aside from being friends, she admitted, pressing her cheek to Rainbow’s shoulder and feeling nothing like what she imagined love should feel like. They just were, and that fact seemed to content her heart’s desire to be with people.

That, she could admit, too: she needed people, and couldn’t imagine being without now that she’d had more than a taste of what it meant to have friends.

Other things flowed through her mind, old and dusty recollections of spending time with Shining Armor as a young girl, the games they played in their backyard, the very real feeling of love she could still feel connecting them even through the distance and time since she had last seen him, and her parents, doting and understanding and always supportive.

Newer memories, too, of moments looking at her new friends in ways she wouldn’t have imagined before, wondering what they had done the day before, if they would invite her to some special gathering for friends—special gatherings that held sudden meaning to her, a sleepover, a pizza party, and now a vacation. Gatherings that were special because they were with her friends, not because it was a pizza party or getting away from home.

And there was an even newer awareness of those friends in ways that would have, and still did, confuse her. She could see that they were attractive, something she had never actively looked for in the dozens of others she had spent time with during study sessions at school, or on academic competition trips, or field trips. Those few she had noticed, she had shoved aside—those feelings got in the way.

They had just been people she happened to be sharing space with, as though they were two cold atoms in the vastness of space, sharing no interaction other than at the level of the basest of scientific laws and, as such, any attraction was purely logical, predictable, and therefore avoidable.

She had gotten very good at avoiding those awkward social moments, so good at it that she couldn’t remember that she had ever done so. Or maybe she just never noticed them in the first place, intent as she had been on learning as much as she could about the world to explain the magic that she was certain was lurking somewhere in physics, and later in chemistry, and found nowhere but in her heart.

Her friends, people she shared connections with that she couldn’t explain in any logical language, were so much more, and the interactions richer, more dynamic and unpredictable than any coldly scientific study could imagine or account for. Every day was an adventure with them, tiring at times, but fulfilling and rewarding in ways she hadn’t known were possible.

She had learned more about herself in the last month with them, through the trials of practicing singing, trying to help Sunset remember scattered bits of magical theory and suggesting her own, to watching them devolve to fighting among each other, and feeling a terrible ache in her heart at seeing it. Helpless as she had felt, Sunset had helped her, and later pushed her into doing the right thing.

Later still, when she had settled into something of a routine at CHS, she had found out more about herself that she still had difficulties expressing in words or thoughts. A part of it was the attraction between two people, or more than two, that made friendships more than just sharing space and wasn’t something she could explain other than as “It’s fun to be with these people.”

But it hadn’t been until she’d woken up that morning with Rainbow so intimately entwined with her—there wasn’t any other way she could think of their tangle—that she had realized that there might be, and could be, more than just friendship that she could share with anyone.

The occasional romance movie and novel had taught her that there should be a spark there for love to happen, something that Cadance had supported conditionally, arguing that tinder had to be built up first for the spark to catch. Otherwise, she scoffed at the idea of romance movies or harlequin novels having any useful ideas on the subject.

Now, she could see the attractiveness of each of her friends in turn, and believed that she could, if given the right jolt, love them as more than friends. Except she couldn’t find a spark there, and her thoughts about Rainbow Dash didn’t turn towards romance any more than they did for any of her friends—save her worrying that she didn’t have such thoughts, and hadn’t until that morning. But that morning had been a fluke, the natural progression of events from over-exertion, joyous celebration, and the return of a magical feeling that had fascinated her for so long.

Looking at Rainbow, touching her hand, stroking a finger along her wrist, turning the friendship band of colorful seashells around and around, she didn’t feel like the touch was as special as it should be for love, or at least no more special than a close, intimate friend’s touch—and she had six friends whose touch she knew as well or better than Rainbow’s.

And what does that mean for us?

The answer to that question worried her, because she knew it already.

There isn’t any us. It’s all just… a misunderstanding? She could almost believe teenage hormones had played more than their part in events, her own wishful worrying about not feeling anything special like she saw so often at CHS, and maybe something with Rainbow Dash’s own wish for something more.

Or, she thought as the van hissed along the wet road in the wake of the storm front, maybe it’s a product of moving too quickly. After all, Shining Armor and Cadance had been dating for years, and had known each other for years before their first date—an event she had played a part in helping Cadance orchestrate.

She decided the answer was an emphatic yes. The only question then, was how to tell Rainbow she felt they were moving too fast. But it was nice, having someone warm to lean her cheek against. She could figure the rest out later, and maybe Sunset would have some insight.

“Wake me when we get back,” Twilight murmured.

“Sure thing.”

Her head slipped down to rest on Rainbow’s lap, and the last thing she remembered before fading was Rainbow’s fingers easing into the straight length of her hair and kneading her scalp while another video played on the tiny screen of her phone.

She fell asleep watching Rainbow give an interview to a shaky handheld camera.

Author's Note:

Side Story here: Striking the Right Chord if you're curious about the exchange near the end of the chapter between Sonata and Twilight.

Comments

[Vic Fontaine]

You tied in the side story perfectly! :)

[CommisarSilver]

I'm glad i read the side story, its what got me into this one. Its enjoyable if a little sad to see how twilights dealing with her and RD's situation.

[Noble Thought]

6094654

Glad to hear you're enjoying it. And, yeah, Twi's got zip for practical experience with romance. More on that later.

[RK_Striker_JK_5]

Very nice tie-in, there. And I am so with Twilight on trying to feign interest in sports.

[Noble Thought]

6103216

Thank you!