The Sour Grapes Chronicles: Equestria Girls

by The Incredible Werekitty

1. Missed Everything

Sour Grapes huffed, as she scribbled her vital information onto the paperwork that would register her as an Intern at Canterlot High School. Paperwork. There is always paperwork.

“Your internship is appreciated. As soon as you have some more experience we will consider hiring you full time,” the young, rather statuesque woman with two-tone light purple and dark blue streaked hair said with a nod.

“That’s reassuring,” Grapes said, as she finished up her paperwork. “It’s going to be interesting, coming back here.”

“I remember the last time you walked these halls. Has it really been that short a time?” the principal spoke, a taller and almost statuesque woman with tri-colored hair in pink, light blue, and green; smiling her trademark warm smile. “Sour Grapes, so focused on setting the academic world on fire that she nearly left skidmarks. I hope you try to enjoy the journey as much as the destination, this time.”

“I’ll try to, Principal Celestia,” Grapes replied, nodding to the older woman. “What am I going to be doing as an Intern?”

“Honestly, a little bit of everything,” the younger of the two women replied.

“Care to elaborate, Vice-Principal Luna?” Grapes asked, politely as she could.

“Well to be blunt we are somewhat short-handed in many of our departments,” Luna confessed before elaborating. “Several private schools have lured away many of our more seasoned educators during the summer break leaving us with a shortage of nearly everything but students.”

“I imagine that’s caused some trouble,” Grapes observed. “One would hope that those who left would find their way back, after being unrewarded and often blamed for some pampered prince of a privileged offspring not wanting to do their homework. Until that happens, I will have to make myself useful, until I can actually start getting paid for this.”

Principal Celestia nodded and counter-signed a few of the forms Grapes had just gone through.

“If it were up to me I would put you on the payroll right now. Certain schools are also aggressively grabbing as many teaching interns as they can. Were it not for the more loyal members of my staff we would be looking at the next best thing to a remake of the Lord of the Flies. I...don’t suppose you could tell us why you didn’t take up any offers, if any were given?”

“They reminded me of my Grandmother, Pave Diamond. We never got along, at all, and she always resented my mother falling in love with somebody she considered a ‘peasant’. So I’d rather work with people who are not going to go cross-eyed from looking down their nose at me, for coming from humble origins,” Grapes replied with rather blunt candor.

“Well I for one am very glad that you have chosen Canterlot High as your first foray into teaching.” Luna said boldly, reaching out to shake Sour Grape’s hand. “We shall see where your talents are best applied here. Fortunately we are not without some contacts of our own and have been seeking out as many academic personalities to pad the staff where we can.”

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity. I’ll try to be an asset to the school,” Grapes replied, giving the Vice Principal a firm handshake, looking her squarely in the eye. Luna nodded, with a half smile. Celestia looked pleased, herself, gathering the papers, and filing them in a nearby drawer.

“Why don’t you walk around, and get reaquainted?” she suggested. “You will need to know how to get around, and do so quickly.”

“All right. I’ll do that. Thanks again, for the opportunity,” Grapes said, getting up, to get a tour of the school. She walked out of the office, looking around at the halls, lockers, and even taking time to pause and look at the trophies, a slightly confused look on her face. The basic layout of the school was something she had committed to memory long ago, able to walk from one class to the next without even having to take her nose out of a book and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of both familiarity and UNfamiliarity hitting her at the same time.

She knew that Principal Celestia had been joking when she said she nearly left skid marks in her hurry to graduate, but now she was starting to get the uncomfortable sensation that maybe that woman had been on to something with that statement. Nothing had changed in the few years she had been gone, paint was the same color, posters were being put up in the same spots lampshades were identical and yet… and yet it was like she was seeing it all for the first time.

“Huh. Guess I had my nose stuck in a book so far, I didn’t even notice anything, here,” Grapes observed, crossing her arms, and looking around again. She shrugged, then turned to look around more. “Half the teachers are probably gone, thanks to those stuck-up snobs. Wonder who stayed?”

“Oh more than you’d think.” said a rich sounding voice from behind her. “But less than we would have wanted. Honestly, the gall of some people, wanting to be paid extremely well for their hard-earned skills. What IS this world coming to?”

Sour Grapes turned around and there, sweeping the floor, was a tall, almost rail-thin man in a pair of brown pants, a brown work shirt and a single bright yellow rubber glove. Despite his custodial actions, his dark gray hair was impeccably styled as was his goatee. He moved the dry-mop back and forth across the floor in broad figure eight motions that cleaned up every speck of dust and scrap of debris in the most efficient manner. It looked almost as if he were dancing with his tool of choice. Her eyes moved to the name embroidered upon his breast pocket’s patch: Desi.

“Well, there’s the idea of being appreciated in your work. You’re not going to get that from a bunch of entitled snobs who think you’re there to help their son or daughter become ready for high society,” Grapes observed. “And heaven forbid they give their precious darlings homework.”

“Oh, tell me about it. When I was in the public sector I had my fill of people who were in it for themselves. Whatever happened to the time when it was all about the thrill of discovery?” He gave her a helpless-looking shrug before reaching out with his ungloved hand to shake hers. “Now they want to harness the best and brightest to do things like throw a ball with great accuracy or solve male pattern baldness. Say-lah-vee I suppose. Desi Cordington, at your service… feel free to call me Desi. Or, if you’re furious, Cordington will do.”

“Sour Grapes. Most people find it easier to call me ‘Grapes, because they don’t want to call me ‘Sour’... At least not to my face,” Grapes said, shaking his hand.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sour Grapes. Always happy to welcome fresh meat to the lunatic fringe,” he chortled. “So you managed to resist the siren’s call by our rivals and come to our aid when we need it most. What do you plan on teaching?”

“I’m good at History, and some technical stuff. Health related stuff, too,” Grapes replied. “As for the so-called ‘siren call’, they didn’t have a particularly charming relative that would turn one off from accepting a teaching position at a school full of similar people.”

“That’s as good as a reason as any. Mine is that I wanted, and needed, to get as far away from the rat race as possible, and Celly… sorry, Celestia and I go way back, so I get quite a bit of rope to do my hanging with.”

“Oh, fascinating,” Grapes said with a grin.

“Oh if life is a stage then I am a man playing many parts… sometimes I feel like I am less the sum of my parts and more the parts of my sum.” he said, his tone starting to fall into uncertainty before recovering and going back into a more theatrical presentation. “I am a part-time chemistry teacher, a part-time drama teacher, a part-time bus driver, a part-time philosophy teacher, a part-time home economics teacher, and at the moment I am a part-time broom-pilot. In short I try to fill in as many roles as I can until Lu-Lu and Celly can get fresh faces to fill them.”

“Do you get paid for all that, or are you another intern? Because that sounds like the job description I was given for what I would be doing,” Grapes said with a chuckle.

“I assure you, Sour Grapes, that I get paid nicely for my work around here. Granted it’s still only ONE paycheque for all those jobs but then again I bill them for my hours, not how many staff positions I fill. In the end it’s one of those things about being ‘where I am needed’ not how much money I can make.”

“Well that’s the attitude I will take. I do have an additional source of income from a boarding house I run,” Grapes said with a nod. “So I can think about helping as much as I can, instead of making money.”

“Well now, that’s the sort of person I can respect.” He laughed, putting his gloved hand between her shoulder blades and starting to guide her down the hallway. “Say, would you like your own office? We have a few that are vacant right now and I have keys for just about EVERYthing around here. Think of it like being a hermit crab. Make your move while the space is there.”

“I think that would be a good idea. Get me settled in, and having a sense of permanence, rather than being just transitory. When I actually get the teaching job, I’ll already be established,” Grapes said with a nod. “Also, shows that I’m confident that I will pass the intern period. Though I won’t take a large office. I don’t want to be greedy.”

“Good idea. Will you be wanting a window seat?”

“Doesn’t matter, really,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Having a space of my own to plan things out would be good. Again, not wanting to be greedy.”

“Oh, I doubt it’ll be considered greedy. Once your name’s on the door everyone will just assume it was always there.”

“Well, find a nice medium-sized office, and I’ll move stuff in, and get a plaque made,” Grapes said with a grin. “I like this sense of settling in. Just need to find out what classes I’m going to be teaching, and what else I’m going to be doing, so I can figure out how to make the best use of my time. Anybody in particular I should be aware of? Bullies? Pampered princes or princesses whose parents proceeded to place in public instead of private school? Problem kids? That sort of thing? I like to know who I can give an extra dose of snark to, beforehand.”

“Oh, there are ALWAYS problem students. That’s what makes high school so interesting. Everyone knows that agitation is what gets things to move. We need such students here and there if for no other reason than to make the others look better in comparison,” he paused then pulled out a notepad and scribbled down some notes. “Say, that’s rather good. I’ll save that one for class later.”

“Good to know. I was asking for specific ones who I can take down a peg or two. Probably won’t work, but hey, I’ll have fun trying,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Can’t imagine which class you’d use that particular quote for, however.”

“Oh, probably my Philosophy class, although my Physics class would be definitely more interesting for it. Ah, why not both? It would be interesting to see what results would result from such debate from the two groups.” He saw her expression and placing his hands on his hips. “What? I have doctorates in both you know. Besides, they aren’t as exclusive as one might think.”

“One wouldn’t think that the science of matter in motion would have anything to do with philosophy,” Grapes observed with a raised eyebrow.

“You would be surprised.” Desi chuckled. “Most physicists find that the more they look at the foundations of the universe, the more… spiritual they become. We begin to realise that deep down there is an intensely complex connection of everything to… well… everything else. Chaos is, after all, merely a higher form of Order.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Grapes observed. “Okay. Let’s find this office, shall we?”

“By all means, let’s.”

Sour Grapes went through her paperwork, looking for what she needed. Her new office wasn’t small, nor was it large. She would call it cozy. Just big enough for a desk, a filing cabinet, a bookshelf and some chairs and one love-seat sized sofa. Oh yes… and the mini fridge. Somewhere Desi scrounged one up for her and left under the window with a potted plant on it. He called it a “hearths’ warming” gift. She wasn’t sure she would ever get a handle on what exactly mister Cordington’s mental processes were but at least they seemed to be benign.

Still it was nice to have a place to put her stuff that wasn’t a locker in the faculty break room, and today she was going to teach her first class, and possibly hobnob with her new co-workers. She never owned a nob, and wasn’t sure what the process of hobbing one involved but would certainly give it a shot. She felt lucky that she was getting a History class to start out. She felt herself on solid ground with History. World History, too, and boy were those pupils in for a surprise with her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and assorted hooligans, welcome to World History. My name Sour Grapes, that’s MISS Grapes to you lot, and together we will learn how humans in a mere fifteen thousand years went from hunting and gathering--” Grapes started, but was rudely interrupted.

“Miss Grapes?” a chunky kid with orange hair and a black T-shirt said, waving his arm in the air. “How much of this is gonna be on the test?”

Briefly checking her student list revealed this one went by the name of “Snips”, he didn’t look particularly bright, or sound that way but she hoped appearances would be deceiving.

“Ah, yes, ‘the test’. The test will measure if you are an informed, engaged, and productive citizen of the world. And it will take place in schools, in bars, in hospitals, and in places of worship. You will be tested on first dates, in job interviews, while watching football, and while scrolling through your Chatter feed. The test will judge your ability to think about things other than celebrity marriages, whether you’ll be easily persuaded by empty political rhetoric, whether you’ll be able to place your life, and your community in a broader context. The test will last your entire life, and be comprised of the millions of decisions that makes your life yours. And everything, everything is on it.”

“But… nothing that affects our general grades?” he asked.

Sour Grapes had a feeling that sometimes the book was easily discerned by its cover. She facepalmed. “Of course this course affects your grades. But I, rather foolishly, thought you’d appreciate a broader context than the one given by the classroom. Obviously I’m asking too much of your miniscule mind, Mister Snips. Obviously you are not the kind of young man who appreciates the big picture. Do try to pay attention and muddle through the best you can, though.”

She scanned the rest of the students, so many different types, even those who were hard to pigeonhole into a “type”. She was quietly pleased to see most were at the very least attentive, some were even interested and on the whole there were very few who seemed… less than interested. One skinny, orange-skinned youth seated next to Snips was trying hard to be interested but she had a suspicion that the material was probably gonna go well over that teal hair of his but at least he was trying. She picked up the pile of tests she had on her desk and held them up. She felt a little guilty doing this on the first day but she wrote these tests to see exactly how much these students had retained over the summer holidays.

“My little pupils,” Grapes said passing out the papers. “I am popping a quiz on you. I want to see how much you retained. Did you soak up the knowledge, or did your minds turn into sieves over the summer, and let everything run out? Though you may find my class much different than other history classes you’ve had. I don’t focus on ‘great man’ history, because history is more than the actions of ‘great’ men. It is the millions of decisions made by millions of people that have gotten the world to where it is, today. Now finish your quizzes. Will it affect your grade? That’s for me to decide and for you to bemoan, later.”

There were groans but at least they were more of resignation than indignation or rebellion. She set the egg timer for a half hour and let them work mostly in silence save the frantic scribbling of their pencils (or in some cases, erasers) After the half hour, Grapes got up, and called for the tests to be passed up, regardless of their state of being finished.

“I gave you half an hour. That should have been plenty for a pop quiz,” Grapes said as she picked up the papers. “Now. As I said, history is more than names, dates, and events, no matter what the standardized testing people want you to think. It is the millions of decisions, made by the millions of people that make up the world, and those decisions are why the world is the way it is, today. For example… You all may just want to start taking notes, by the way, just saying. For example, is the independently arrived decision, that occurred all over the world, in various different regions, to switch from being hunter-gatherers to agriculturalists. Different societies, in radically different parts of the world switched from foraging, to growing crops. It is not certain why, but a good theory is that these societies just wanted more food.”

From that beginning, Grapes taught about the differences between hunter-gatherers, and farmers, the advantages and disadvantages of both, the environmental impact, and various other factors that made the subject… well fairly interesting. Her commentary was often interspersed with snarky asides, humorous commentary, and some derision earlier historians who would often consider people who were not like them to be savages. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to be an easy teacher, but she wasn’t going to be the sort of teacher that went out of their way to make things unfair, either.

Grapes smiled, watching as the students filed out of the classroom. She erased the board, and put the classroom to rights. There might be another teacher who come into this room, and work here. It was only right to leave a clean room to work in for them. She gathered up her stuff, and walked back to her office, smiling at the plaque on the door with her name. Grapes went inside, and put her items on their shelves. Her next period was one where she’d be helping in the Library, along with another one of the teachers, by the name of Cheerilee.

After a period in the library, Grapes decided to enjoy a free period, and get some coffee. She could definitely use the caffeine. The faculty break room had seen better days. Everything inside from the scratched Melmac counter to the well-worn chrome and formica table betrayed that this room was always the last to see any upgrades. Still, there was a comfortable feeling about it, like entering your grandma’s house or something. She went over to the coffee urn and placing her travel mug under it, topped it off.

The door opened and in came another member of the faculty, He was dressed in a brown sweater with a gray shirt and purple tie beneath it. The purplish hair on his head was too perfectly styled to be natural, and had such a naturally grumpy look on his face that it suggested he didn’t smile often. He dropped the heavy books under his arm onto the table before pulling a large mug that read “Not my department” in red letters from the cupboard and waited patiently for her to finish filling hers.

Grapes let him have his turn at the urn and looked him over once again.

“Let me make an educated guess… Mathematics Teacher?”

“Congratulations kid, yer smarter than you look.”

“Wow. That was really snarky, and I know snarky. I’m quite the connoisseur, actually. I can respect good snark,” Grapes said with a nod.

“Then we’ll get along just fine. Name’s Cranky Doodle Donkey. It’s a family name, and before you ask only one person gets to call me Doodle and you’re not her. Cranky is fine, Mister Donkey is good too.” He paused a moment in thought before pouring honey in with his coffee. “And at the moment I’m pretty much the entire mathematics department. Lousy quitters.”

“They’ll discover the lure of a fat paycheck isn’t worth the aggravation… eventually,” Grapes observed. “I have family who are rich and snobby. They love to blame the teachers for their precious little snowflake’s shortcomings. And how about I call you ‘Donkey’, if you don’t mind my slipping occasionally into a Scots brogue, ‘e’ery now an’ again. Same principle with my name. I’m Sour Grapes, but everybody calls me ‘Grapes’, because nobody wants to call me ‘Sour’ to my face.”

“Good to meet you then. Welcome to Canterlot High. We’re understaffed, under equipped and under pressure. Then again you probably got told that by the ‘princesses’ coming in.”

“Princesses?” Grapes asked, raising her eyebrow. “I met the principals, but no princesses.”

“Sorry. It’s a local joke among the staff. They’re nice enough but don’t press your luck with Celestia and Luna,” he elaborated. “They're no wicked queens so we just call them the princesses.”

“And why are queens wicked? I swear it’s a trope that allows writers to not have female rulers not take the full responsibility,” Grapes groused. “Instead they get away with having the female rulers remain princesses, and not take the full mantle of queen, because most literary queens tend to be of the wicked variety, and nobody seems to find that annoying, or contrived, or even wrong!”

“Kid, I’m a math teacher, literacy is another department altogether.

“I think you mean ‘literature’,” Grapes observed. “Because maths are a part of being literate. You know, the traditional three R’s of reading, writing and ‘rithmatic.”

“Once again proving our nation’s spelling habits never were that strong even before texting came into style,” He smirked before having a seat at the table. “At the end of the day I’m happy if my students are NUMERATE and leave being literate for teachers better armed for teaching that. Most writing I do is word problems… boy do the students hate me for those.”

“Ah yes. Word problems. The logic puzzles of the math world. Most students hate them, because they can be tricky buggers, forcing them to actually use their brains,” Grapes observed. “And it seems the Powers That Be don’t want people who can use their brains…”

“If they could just put the talk-boxes down for five minutes maybe they could learn something… or not risk future arthritis in their thumbs.”

“There is that, but I was talking about this worrying trend towards standardized testing posited by politicians, who have no background in education what-so-ever. I know our current system is based on an old Prussian system, but it’s what we got, right now. There are some ways to improve it, but they’re experimental, and most aren’t willing to risk the money,” Grapes observed. “But you are right about the cellphones. That’s why I’ve stuck with my good old dumbphone, with no texting plan.”

“Same here. I’m not important enough to need to be on call twenty-four/seven.”

“If it’s an emergency, I’d rather hear about it vocally, to be honest,” Grapes said with a nod. “If not in person, then on the bloody phone. I want to know more than ‘oops, flooded basement, ell oh ell’.”

“So I might as well ask you how’s your first day going?”

“So far so good. I managed to engage my students, and they seemed to enjoy the history lesson about the transition from hunter-gatherers to agriculture,” Grapes observed. “Though my attempt to introduce one of the smaller minds in the school to a bigger picture went over like a lead zeppelin. Guess some covers reflect their contents. Alas. I do wonder if Principal Celestia would let me try some experiments in gamification...”

“Gamification? Never heard of it. What’s that all about?”

“It’s a way of fostering engagement in any particular subject, by making use of the methods that exist in games, more specifically video games. Experience points, progress bars, achievements, and the like,” Grapes explained.

“Maybe I should get in on this and teach my students to play blackjack under the pretense of all the possible combinations that can add up to twenty-one.”

“That’s one way to do it,” Grapes said with a nod. “I thought I’d start small in my history classes with the ‘plot your path’ game. I’ll pick two subjects from the next chapter, and ask the students to find path, give a list of websites, and then tell how the two subjects, and websites are linked. The person who can do it with the fewest page jumps… Will win… something… I need to figure out what, though,” Grapes said, thoughtfully.

“Kids are pretty simple creatures when you get down to it. Give them something that looks like it has social or monetary value and they’ll suck it up like the little sponges they are,” Cranky grumbled looking in the fridge and pulling out a brown paper bag with the name ‘Doodle’ on it. “How about a coupon for something from Sugarcube Corner? Let them stuff their face while you stuff their brains?”

“That might work. Thanks for the idea, Donkey,” Grapes said with a nod. “I’ll have to see about that with the proprietors of course. Starting small is the key, and working up to the bigger things. May be different than what we usually do, but what we usually do isn’t exactly working the best, right now.”

He pulled a glazed doughnut out of the bag and nodded. “Tell you what, try out your little experiment and let me know if it works. If it does I may have to learn a few new tricks.”

“Will do. Every little trick helps, I think,” Grapes said with a nod.

After her free period, Grapes found herself facing a class full of older teenagers, close to her own age. She stood at the head of the class, exuding as much authority as she possibly could, but somehow she knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

She had selected her clothes to set her apart from the class. It was hard to be considered their teacher if you wore jeans, sneakers and a tee-shirt. Slacks, a business-like blazer, and a white button-down shirt was fairly formal. Even if the blazer was a light material, in these waning days of summer. She definitely looked the part of the professional. She looked out at the students as they settled in, the sea of brightly colored hair and skin tones was oddly familiar to her although she never quite believed she would ever see them from this end of the classroom. Even during the time she was taking the education courses. It seemed so surreal, at the university. Now the reality of it was looking her in the face, with various expressions of mild shock, and one of blatant disbelief.

Of course there was always the basics. The tried and true lesson that all teachers fell back on. Telling everyone who you were as you wrote it on the chalkboard. Her cursive writing was well-honed from years of just trying to stop it from looking like she wrote it by remote control.

“Good afternoon, everybody, I’m Miss Grapes, and I’m here to help you with your journey through the wonderful subject of history,” she said in her most authoritative tone.

“Wait…. you’re kidding right?” The interrogative came from the one student with the expression of blatant disbelief… and hair that could be used as a signal flare. “You can’t be that much older than we are.”

“Congratulations. You have basic powers of observation. Can you use that techni-colored head of yours to figure out why or is simple logic beyond your comprehension?” Grapes quipped back. “Actually I’ll make it easy for you. You see, I am what is called a genius. I excelled at school, and blazed through elementary and high school, then went to college, learning how to be a teacher. Now here I am, in a school that apparently needs me, trying to teach students who are uninterested, apathetic, and one that happens to be an ungrateful jerk. However, I shall still try. Because I believe that in order not to repeat the mistakes of the past one must learn about them, and learn from them.” She did a quick check of her roster, finding who the mouthy student happened to be, before continuing. “So, Miss Sunset Shimmer, have I explained my being here to your satisfaction?”

“Fine. Just so long as we’re not wasting one another’s times here, ‘Miss’ Sour Grapes.” Shimmer said with a subtle narrowing of the eyes. “Just keep in mind you’re not the only genius in this room.” That elicited some “ooohs” from the other students in the room.

“Oh really? Well, well, well, then you won’t mind extra assignments, Miss Sunset Shimmer. After all, wouldn’t want your finely tuned mind to go all soft, and squishy, now would we?” Grapes said narrowing her own eyes, and a slight smirk on her lips.

“Bring it on,” the self-indicated “genius” answered with a smirk. “When I first arrived in this... town, it was from a… distant, miserable, backwards, little rural backwater. In the last few years I had to play catch up in almost every subject just so I wouldn’t feel like I was some kind of alien in this world. In fact if you can challenge me, I just might consent to calling you my equal.”

“Challenge accepted,” Grapes said with a grin. “I may even tap that brain of yours for some projects I have in mind. Now, I’m sure you all are expecting me to start rattling off names and dates, and the names of great men who made history. Let me tell you now, I’m not that kind of teacher. ‘Great Man’ history tends to put the bulk of historical happenings into the hands of the few, and makes a person believe that they can’t do anything significant, unless they become great, powerful or famous. History, however is more than that. It is more than great men, and women, more than dates, and events…”

"Y'all mean the good ol' hard-workin everyday types, don'tcha?" a blonde girl wearing a cowboy hat asked.

“Well yes. Sometimes the good old hard-working everyday types actually become historical figures in Great Man History because they made a decision that ended up being remembered, and recorded. However, I’m more interested in teaching you about the causes and effects. It will be more memorable, and interesting, and be more like telling you the story of the events; than just the dates, and events and the great men who participated,” Grapes asserted. “So, who’s ready to start on this journey?”

“Heck, Ah am,” the blonde from before asserted.

“Sure, why not?” Sunset Shimmer stated with a shrug. Soon, one by one, the students agreed, and then the class truly began. Grapes was right. It was a bit harder. However that was all part of the challenge. Another challenge was Sunset Shimmer. Grapes was going to have to work extra hard to find extra difficult assignments for that one, but it was something she was looking forward to doing.

Sour Grapes’ first day as a teaching intern ended, and she was rather glad it did. While challenging and fulfilling, it had also been quite draining. She was looking forward to going home, and relaxing. She opened the door of her subcompact car, putting her heavy bag of take-home work inside, before getting in herself.

Pulling her seat belt into place she took a moment to take a deep breath and let it out slowly to decompress. She did not want to start driving while on an emotional high, whether positive or negative. It could impede her judgement. She was about to twist the key in the ignition when an electronic version of Harder Better Faster Stronger trilled through the air, indicating someone was calling her cell. Grapes pulled out the flip-phone, and looked at the caller ID window. Not recognising the number, she flipped it open.

“Is this about the room?” She asked, without preamble.

“I ah… yes. Yes it is, how did you know?” came a rather nice sounding male voice on the other end.

“I’m getting a call from a number I don’t recognise, at the time I specified for calling in the ad I placed in the paper. It’s not a very long deductive leap,” Grapes replied.

“Right… Well, yes I’m calling about the room, or maybe I should say rooms. Two separate living spaces will be needed. I hope this won’t be a problem.”

“No problem at all, honestly. I’ve got quite a few rooms available. I’m at 2525 Sunshine Avenue. I’ll meet you there, and let you check out the available rooms,” Grapes replied, rubbing her eyes.

“Thank you very much. See you there in half an hour or so, uh…” There was a moment of paper rustling. “Miss Sour Grapes.”

“I should be there, by then,” Grapes said, starting her car, and hanging up the phone. She drove back to her house, inherited from a relative of her mother’s, trying to keep calm in the face of afternoon traffic. She had come to a halt at a red light when her phone went off again. Activating the speakerphone feature she heard a cultured female voice on the other end.

“Good afternoon. Would I be addressing Miss Sour Grapes right now?”

“You would be, yes. Lucky you caught me at a traffic light, or else I would not have answered. Are you calling about the rooms?” Grapes replied.

“Yes I am. A friend and I are in need of rooms that are either near or allow rapid transit to the university grounds. I am hoping that we are not too late to take a look at your property.”

“You’re just in time, actually. I’ve got two others meeting me at 2525 Sunshine Avenue. I’m on a public transit route, that has a direct pass to the University.”

“Oh how WON-derful!” the voice said with such cheer Grapes nearly believed it was forced until she spoke to someone in the background.. “Sirocco! This one sounds ideal. Shall we take a look at it?”

“That is most fortuitous, Queenie. By all means, let us bake paste!”

“Make… it’s make HASTE, Sirocco… oh never mind. Miss Sour Grapes? We shall meet you there shortly then.”

“I’ll see you there,” Grapes said, before hanging up, and paying attention to the traffic, again. This was, apparently, going to be interesting.

A few minutes later the phone rang again. Grapes sighed and pulled over to a mini-mall parking lot before answering.

“Ahoy there, I be looking for one Sour Grapes. I be wishing to rent a room and the property listed seems to be in the right location for me.”

The fellow this time sounded almost, no he DID sound like a stereotype. She could practically imagine this guy behind a large wooden steering wheel on a schooner or other seagoing vessel. If he was for real he probably had an obvious tattoo or two. She knew she would bust a gut if he showed up in a sailors hat.

“Good afternoon. You’ve reached Sour Grapes. Go ahead and meet me there. I’ve got several other interested parties coming already,” she replied.

“Aye aye then. I’m only a few blocks away. I’ll meet you there then Miss Grapes.” A horrendous grinding sound came through the speaker for a moment before some soft muttering. “As soon as I remember how to drive manual. Arrr.”

“Brake, clutch, then shift,” Grapes suggested.

“Much obliged, miss. See you there.”

Despite the interruptions, Sour Grapes felt strangely optimistic with renting out the rooms today. She had not expected five interested parties so soon. At least one pair were going to the university so being so close to the bus did make it a prime location. She wondered momentarily if she should have put an ad in a campus newspaper then brushed it off. The students who found her and would hopefully not be the ‘party college’ types.

She turned down the side street to her home and then into the back lane behind it. She liked having a back yard to the home. It gave a nice discreet place to park her car so she would never have to worry about someone else stealing her spot, having converted the tool shed into a garage helped too. During winter she could park it in a sheltered spot with a plug for the block heater and never have to worry about scraping ice off the windows.

Pulling all her work out of the car she walked the long way around to the front of her home when a low rumbling sound filled the air. It wasn’t loud in the usual way but deep like a tiger purring. Searching for the source of the noise her eyes were attracted to a brilliant orange and black motorcycle pulling up… at least she classified it as a motorcycle. it had two wheels at the front with the handlebars and one in the back. The fellow riding it pulled it right up in front of her home where it came to a halt and the engine was switched off. The yellow helmet with the black visor looked over at her home, then down at a newspaper in it’s one hand, then back at her home again.

Grapes came up to her door, standing by it, watching the fellow on the motorbike, arms crossed, heavy bag by her feet. She was not going to talk to a helmet. Her whole demeanor just seemed to ask: “Well?”

The guy took off his helmet with a motion that was so cinematic he probably practiced it in the mirror. The chinstrap was undone with the snap of his fingers, then both hands were placed on either side of the helmet and lifted up, then forwards and down to the handlebars, while he shook his wild mane of yellow hair to get the “helmet-hair” out of it. Yep, she decided, pure Hollywood choreography there. Still it seemed to suit him. The racing jacket, the jeans, the cycle and bold look of yellow hair with orange skin. Not that she was impressed. It just seemed to suit him.

“So, Mister Hollywood, here about a room?” Grapes asked, casually. “Or did I talk to you on the phone, earlier?”

“I figured I’d come right to the source before I got on my phone,” he said, sliding off his cycle and heading over to where she stood. “It’s not safe to talk on the phone while driving so I just turn mine off. Also less aggravating to others. I was stuck behind this one character, I could tell every-single-time they got a call they would pull over or pause at the stoplight a little extra long… I mean it’s safe and all but still when you’re behind them…” he sighed.

“Sorry to have annoyed you, but I wasn’t expecting to be called about my ad so promptly. I swear it’s like they were all just waiting for the time specified,” Grapes quipped. “Not like I’m spending all day, in a high school, trying to pound knowledge into the ungrateful youth.”

“Woah, wait. That was you? Oh… I guess this means I’m sleeping under a bridge tonight huh?” he managed to joke.

“Oh, heavens no. I may just charge you more rent, though… Or not,” Grapes replied, with a smirk. “Just got to wait for everybody else to show up.”

The blue-line bus pulled up to the bus stop at the end of the block and four bodies got off in animated discussion with one another. A rather pretty sparkly-skinned girl with curly blond hair she would kill for led the group followed by a dusky exotic girl, a light gray-skinned boy who had the kind of body best on display at a beach and… uh oh. A little dark-gray kid with purple hair and dark glasses with a white cane. She hoped she wouldn’t have a viable reason to say no to him. She’d feel guilty turning down someone with a “visible” disability.

“Just got to wait for Captain Ahab, and we’ll be all set,” Grapes observed, as the students came up onto the porch. “Hello, everybody, I’m Sour Grapes, your soon-to-be landlady. I know. I’m young. Get over it.”

A few moments a powder blue Pinto came down the block and came to a stop right behind the orange cycle. It gave a teeth-clenching grinding of gears before sputtering to a rest.

“I told him, brake, clutch THEN shift,” Grapes uttered with a shake of her head.

The door opened and out stepped an older man sea-green skin, seafoam green and white hair and a patch of grey stubble about his jaw. He smoothed his red and white stripe shirt, straightened his mariner’s jacket then reached back into the car and pulled out a simple captain’s hat. Grapes nearly sighed with relief. She had imagined him with the Dixie-cup hat and would have laughed if he did wear one. At least this had a certain level of respect attached to it.

He strode up the walk quite confidently, and there was a bit of a shift in the mood of the students around her. They straightened up a little and the familiarity they had with one another settled down a notch. The token adult of the group smiled when he saw them and held out his arms.

“Ah, good to see the lot of you! What brings you to... oh, yer getting a place to live too, aint’cha? Good on ye.”

“Well, looks like the gang’s all here. Everybody ready for the tour?” Grapes asked.

The group gave various sounds of agreement but it was the older gentleman who seemed to speak for them.

“Aye, Lass. Lead the way.”

“All right. Right inside would be the foyer,” Grapes said, opening the door. “If you all stay you’ll be getting keys to this front door, and to your individual rooms. The ad said ‘BYOF’, meaning Bring Your Own Food, and yes I’m set up for such an arrangement.” She lead them into a beautiful old house, the woodwork, despite its conversion to a boarding house, was still intact. “I will add damages to your rent. So don’t mar the wood, unless it is unavoidable.”

“Right,” the orange biker said, poking his head into a closet and looking around. “No nails or tacks to hang things up unless we get your say-so. Gotcha.”

“There is such a thing as non-marring double sided tape,” Grapes said, before opening the door to what was once the butler’s pantry. There was a double row of stacked mini-fridges, all numbered and sporting hasps for locks. “Here is the food storage. The number on the fridge corresponds with the number of your eventual room. You provide your own lock, if you feel the need.”

“They’re so small. It’s kinda neat to see how far technology’s gotten since we got electricity.” said the young boy in the dark glasses, and catching Grapes off guard. Apparently he wasn’t quite as blind as she first assumed. Then again there were different kinds of blindness in the world and not all of them involved a total lack of sight. “Do you have freezer space too?”

“Yes… Right now it’s communal, but I’m working on finding good quality mini freezers to copy the fridge arraignment. It’s hard to find good quality for a good price, unfortunately,” Grapes replied.

“That’s good. Sometimes what I want to save for later needs to be frozen solid.”

“All right. Freezer is in the basement, as is the laundry facilities. Be careful; the stairs are kind of steep. I have smaller rooms on the ground floor, and larger rooms upstairs,” Grapes said. “Which would you like to check out, first?”

“I ah… would personally like to see the larger rooms first.” The muscular young man said quietly. “I’m leaning towards living space with some elbow room.”

“We may as well begin at the top and work our way down then,” The elegant blond agreed.

“All right, everybody follow me,” Grapes said, leading them up a rather nice staircase to a long hallway, with doors on either side. “There is one bathroom at the end of the hallway, and another by the study. You can sort out which is the girls’ and which is the guys’.”

“Very nice. Is there any issues with water consumption?”, the blonde inquired. “One of the places we checked out was charging each person for the amount of water that came out of the tap and also what went down the drain. You don’t usually see that set-up outside of countries like Germaney.”

“Just don’t overdo it. I’ll be getting an average of your usage, over three to four months residency, and if you use a lot more than your usual, I’ll add that to the rent, with an itemization,” Grapes explained. “I am figuring you are going to be here, at least, a year, going to the university, correct?”

“Oh yes. Definitely,” she said with a little gesture of her hand. “I’m certain I can speak for all my peers here that we are in for the long haul at the U of C… oh wait. My mistake. Stormy’s little friend there will be going to Canterlot High. He’s rather bright but it would be putting the cart before the horse to send him to university before he’s got the credentials.”

“I would like to go some day.” The boy agreed. “Mister Squall says it’s a nice place to go and learn.”

“Huh. How ‘bout that. I teach at Canterlot High,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “Maybe you’ll be in my World History course.”

“That would be awesome.”

“That it would, lad,” the older gentleman said patting the boy on the shoulder before looking back at Grapes. “But let’s let her finish the tour before we unpack, shall we?”

“Well, you check out the rooms, and see which ones you’d like. If you don’t find anything up here, we’ll move downstairs,” Grapes asserted. “Sound like a plan?”

“Aye. Give us five minutes up here and then we’ll take a look at the main floor again,” the older man chuckled. “Call me an old naval man but I’d like to know all me options before I get too attached to my quarters.”

“Makes sense to me, sir,” Grapes responded, with a nod, as she stood in the hallway, waiting on them to check out the rooms.

“Miss Grapes, this room here has a door in the wall that is locked,” The dusky girl asked. “Is there something wrong with it or does it go somewhere I do not wish to be?” Grapes went to check out the door, then checked the room that shared the wall with said door, and the dusky girl’s chosen room.

“That just connects these two rooms, here. Was a suite, originally, but I kept it, in case I got a couple with a family, and wanted to be able to have their kids in a separate room, but able to check up on them without going out in the hallway,” Grapes explained.

“Well I cannot speak for the others but I am very content with this room. It is very comfortable looking,” she said before the blond approached them.

“I like the one on the other side of the wall myself, Sirocco. If we can get the key for the dividing door then you and I can visit one another without waking the others by going through the hallway.”

“Oh! I like that idea, Queenie! We will be members of the secret sissy-hood!”

“Sisterhood,” Grapes deadpanned. “And the door unlocks from Sirocco’s side. There’s a twist latch, there.” Grapes went into what was now Sirocco’s room, and demonstrated the simple latch, opening the divider door. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Sour Grapes,” Queenie said looking back and forth between the rooms from it’s connecting door. “Don't get me wrong. I love all my friends here like brothers, an uncle... an annoying brother. It's just sometimes it's nice to sit down and hang out with another girl… even if her equish isn't as strong as I'd like."

“It is not really my fault, Queenie. Equish has so many words and expressions that actually mean other things altogether that it’s frustrating at times to get it right.” Sirocco gave a short sigh. “Three days… three days to find ‘pneumonia’ in the dictionary. What madman spells such a word with a ‘P’?”

“Kind of a good question,” Grapes observed.

“Aye. Wait until she finds out how a word spelt Gee-aych-oh-tee-aye is actually pronounced.” The older man chuckled before speaking quietly to Grapes. “You mentioned you teach at the High School. How long ago did classes begin?”

“Today,” Grapes said with a nod.

“Oh good. I was worried I missed far more than that. Miss Celestia came to me far later than I would normally have liked to ask me to join her merry crew.”

“You… You are a teacher at Canterlot High?” Grapes asked.

“Aye, well as of tomorrow I will be,” he chuckled before extending a hand that felt like it had been assembled from callouses, old leather and scar tissue rather than skin. “Summer Squall at yer service lass. I’ve lived a long interesting life around this big old world and some of that was being a teacher in places where they are in short supply. Although this year, it seems it’s in a country where things are a little more familiar for me.”

“Fantastic,” Grapes said with a nod. “Also… I should make sure I have something that will suit you. Might look bad if I kick out a salaried teacher…”

“Well I won’t hold it against ye if’n you do. Although if you do I may have to ask Miss Celestia if she could recommend a bunk somewhere else. This was the best I could find within me price range.”

“Do you have a preference? You seem like a man of simple tastes, so something downstairs may suit you more,” Grapes said, with a slight panic mode engaging. “Quite frankly, we could really use you at CH, because… Well a lot of private schools yoinked the talent. I chose Canterlot High, because I have snooty relatives, and I probably would have hated teaching snooty bratlings… So downstairs may work. They’re a bit smaller, and… stuff.”

“So… that’s why Celestia called me right on the end of me contract with them missionaries,” Squall chuckled and stroked his stubble-covered chin. “She knew me back from me naval days. Well, more from the end of them. But she was surprised I had used a naval scholarship to go into teaching, I saw it as a way to keep traveling the world and yet keep getting people to pay me to do it.”

“That’s incredibly clever,” Grapes observed, then looked back at everybody else. “Everybody find a room to their liking?”

“I think everyone likes what’s on the second floor, Miss Grapes,” the little boy said, shrugging. “I would like to see the other ones before I make my decision though. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I think that’s a reasonable request, Earshot.” Squall said rubbing the boy’s purple mop of hair before turning back to Grapes. “Lead the way Lass.”

“All right. Let’s head down,” Grapes said, heading down stairs.

She noticed that while only Squall and Earshot needed to be with her the big fellow was following closely. It was when they were going down the short hallway to the main floor living quarters when Earshot stopped abruptly. He stood there a moment before gently raising and lowering himself on his toes with his head cocked to the side. He then touched the wall immediately to his left.

“Miss Grapes? I think… there’s a space behind this wall. It sounded a little different when we walked past here.”

“Wow… Good ears, there… uh… What IS your name, anyway? I know Mister Beach Body is probably called ‘Stormy’. Mister Squall introduced himself. Don’t know Mister Hollywood’s name, either,” Grapes uttered looking at her youngest tennant.

“Oh! I’m Earshot!” he chirped turning to speak to Grapes. “I’m from Stygian Cove.”

Stormy’s hand came to rest on Earshot’s shoulder and Grapes became aware of the handsome young man again.

“Earshot is a foriegn exchange student and I’m kinda responsible for him. His home region is… unique, to put it lightly. Both when talking about the society and the people living there.”

“Ah. Okay… Cool… Only have the one room with a connecting door… Uh.. You don’t mind him being downstairs, you being the responsible party and all?” Grapes asked, looking up at the guy. Big. Definitely big. And cute. Definitely cute. Why was she even thinking this? Grapes quickly got a hold of herself, and waited for his answer.

“What do you say, Earshot? Think you’ll be good down here?”

“I think so, Stormfront. We’re still in the same building and I’ll feel like I have some… what’s the word I’m thinking of? Like ‘automobile’ but it means I have some control over my own actions?”

“Probably ‘autonomy’.” Stormy prompted.

“That’s the one. ‘Autonomy’. Maybe there’s a slightly smaller room down here. The ones up there are a little too big for me. I feel like I’m taking up room I don’t need.”

“But… Ugh. Fine. That’s a secret passage down to the downstairs rooms. There is one locked room, that’s kind of a panic room. Did I mention my snooty relatives? I hide from them in that panic room,” Grapes explained, using the hidden switch, and opening the passage. “Seriously, though. My relative? The absolute worst.”

Earshot slipped down the narrow hallway and peeked into what would have at one time been the chef’s personal quarters. He smiled and nodded back to her.

“This one. I like it, it looks like my room back home.”

“Guess Earshot’s people aren’t big on using more space than necessary.” Stormy said with a smile.

“I suppose so. You sure, Earshot?” Grapes asked.

“Yes.I’m sure. I don’t have a lot of personal stuff, and when I go back I can’t really carry a lot with me so I’m trying not to collect more than what I need while here.”

“Unless you count little lead soldier figurines.” Stormy chuckled, causing Earshot to blush.

“I don’t know why but I can’t stop at just one.”

“Lead soldier figurines?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are they all different?”

“Oh yes. I find them at swap meets, junk stores, flea markets… so many different kinds. Some people even paint them.” Earshot reminisced. “I even started reading up on the people they were based on.”

“Earshot’s probably on his way to being an amateur military historian from this hobby.” Stormy laughed.

“Might be interesting. I’m a history teacher. I’m one who doesn’t do ‘Great Man History’, though,” Grapes observed. “Mister Squall? Find anything to your liking?”

“Oh yes. While you were speakin’ there I found a nice room around the corner. The one with the nice big windows facin’ east. Nothing like sunlight shooting into yer eyes to make sure yer awake in the mornin’.”

“Glad to that you found something. I suppose you’ll all be settling in, I suppose?” Grapes asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Squall said patting his pockets before pulling out his wallet. “Everyone seems happy enough. How do you prefer to be paid? Me? I be partial to cash and checks over plastic. I never was comfortable with money I couldn’t see.”

“I’ve a preference to getting checks, or cash, myself. Though I always wait until I am sure the tenant will have the money in their bank… I’ve had checks bounce on me, before,” Grapes uttered with a sigh.

“How about a bank draft then? It’s been a few years since I’ve done one of them but I’m sure they still do it on request.”

“Look, I’m cool with checks. I just… ask when your payday’s going to be, and if you get direct deposit,” Grapes said scuffing a foot. “Then I deposit the check that day… You know, just making sure.”

An unfamiliar jingling noise from behind her caused Sour Grapes to turn to see Earshot counting out coins in his palm.

“I would like to pay you now if that’s okay, Miss Grapes. Dad always says that debits are for governments, not their people.” he paused a moment looking over the dozen or so silver coins in his hands. “Was it two crescents to the bit or two bits make up a gibbous? I’m never gonna get used to foreign money exchange rates.”

“Uh… I’m not sure about the exchange rate, myself. But the rent is in bucks,” Grapes replied.

“Okay. Mom and Dad keep sending me a living allowance but they keep forgetting that money over here isn’t solid silver like it is back home.”

“Solid… silver… Holy carp… I’ll have to check the metal prices, and get back to you on how many of those I’ll need… Uh.. How much do you think each coin weighs?” Grapes asked.

“I’m not entirely certain. Most of Europe is on metric and you guys are still doing imperial.” Earshot mused finding the dining room table and emptying a small leather bag full of coins on it. “Most people treat my money like a curiosity than money. Probably why I get best trade value at flea markets. Food vendors just look at me funny.”

“Tell you what, tomorrow after school, we’ll visit somebody who can tell you how much your money is worth in bucks and bits. Sound good?” Grapes asked. “You’ll be selling it for the value of the silver in it, rather than the value on the coins. So you may get more than you think. Then we’ll set you up with a bank account, to keep your bucks and bits safe.”

“Oh! Thank you very much, Miss Grapes. That would help a lot.”

“Least I can do, Earshot,” Grapes said with a smile.

The next morning, Grapes got off the phone with the manager of her credit union, having made an appointment after school. This fellow, Even Measure, would help Earshot get the best price for his silver coins, and get him set up with his account. The money wouldn’t be available until the next business day, but his cash would be safe, and he’d be learning Equestrian economics.

“ATTENTION ALL TENANTS! ANYBODY WITH MORNING CLASSES, YOU’D BETTER BE GETTING YOUR SORRY PLOTS UP!” Grapes yelled up the grand staircase.

There was a sound of feet hitting the floor and running about from up above. From down the hall Squall’s door opened wide and he strode down the hall dressed in a boxer’s robe, an undershirt, a pair of bunny slippers and… red and white striped boxers.

“Good Mornin’, Miss Grapes! Glad to know I ain’t gonna wake up the landlord this early in the day. You teach this early as well, eh?”

“I’m an intern, so I have to be there from open to close, so I can be as much help as I can,” Grapes replied, then she grinned wickedly. “That was fun, though… I wonder how many of them do have morning classes?”

“Just a few. Not Stormy though. He has a noon class but he feels obligated to walk his young charge to school… so to speak.”

“I was just going to give him a ride, since we’re going to the same place,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Never mind introduce him to the principals. Though Stormy may need to be there to do the registration thing… Not sure if he’s going to fit in my car…”

“Don’t worry about him, lass,” Squall said shaking some rather pungent-smelling coffee into the basket on the coffee maker. “Mister Front may seem rather bulky but he’s surprisingly… flexible.”

Grapes blinked. Then shook her head to prevent her thoughts from going straight to the gutter.

“So what’s yer first class? Mine’s geography. Thinking of introducing them to locating things by latitude and longitude.”

“That’ll appeal to the nerds in your classroom, but I can hear the screams of protest, even now… Go for it,” Grapes said with a wicked grin. “I teach, so far, two world history classes.”

“I could sweeten the deal with a map of the city and promises of treasure to those who can do the orienteering.” he chuckled. “Hmmm… maybe for later in the week.”

“Oh! That’s geocaching,” Grapes observed. “Believe it or not, that’s kind of a popular pastime for some people.”

“Geocaching? Sounds like a treasure hunt to me!” He laughed, before all but throwing himself into a kitchen chair. “I should look into that. Heaven knows I could use a hobby that reminds me of me youth.”

“It’s one way to make geometry more interesting. I’m looking into other ways to engage the student’s interest, too, including some gamification techniques,” Grapes said, as she ate her breakfast.

“I wonder if Celestia would let me yell out cuss words. That’d catch the attention of the little buggers. Especially if I were dressed up as a pirate.” he paused and put his feet up on another chair, letting Grapes see the bunnies were smoking little plushie cigars. “I’m certain I packed me sabre.”

“Uhm… Stow the sailor-speak and keep the pirate rigging and you might get their attention from the moment you kick the door in.”

“Aye-aye.” he said with a salute.

By the time the others had come downstairs, the kitchen was thick with the deliciously bitter smell of a coffee probably grown by the devil himself. Sour Grapes could have sworn that it even LOOKED thicker than a normal coffee when Squall poured the midnight black fluid into his cup. Without hesitation Sirocco also helped herself to a mug of the sinister-looking brew while everyone else had the orange juice.

“Earshot, you cool with me giving you a ride to school?” Grapes asked, having finished her breakfast in the communal kitchen, instead of in her own.

The young boy paused eating his bowlful of cereal and actually thought about it a moment before answering. “Yes I am, Miss Grapes. I accept your offer of a ride to school.”

“We’re going to the same place. Makes sense for you to ride with me,” Grapes observed. “I don’t think you can fit in my car, Squall… Though I DO know how to drive a stick.”

“That’s alright, lass. Driving manual is like getting your sea legs. It may take a while but when you get it down you wonder why you had so much trouble to begin with.”

“Actually, the main thing you’ve got to remember is to push the clutch, before shifting. Brake, clutch, shift. In that order,” Grapes replied with a slight smirk, then she began to imitate a crotchity old man. “Brake, clutch shift! Brake, clutch, shift! You youngan’s and yer automatic shifters got it easy, y’hear me! That’s why yer learnin’ manual, so you’ll appreciate yer automatic shifter! Brake, clutch, shift, or else you’ll be needin’ a new transmission.”

“I’ll have you know most battleships don’t come with a clutch.” Squall joked.

“I doubt Grandpa Grapes would know. He was Infantry, not Navy,” Grapes quipped back. “Tough old coot, he was, but affectionate… in his own unique way.”

“Sounds like he was a good man.” Squall said retrieving a plate of pre-fried bacon and eggs from the fridge and putting them into the microwave. He touched his face and sighed before pulling a rechargeable razor from his robe pocket and doing a touch-up while his breakfast warmed up. “Brake, Clutch, Shift. Brake, Clutch, Shift. Jest like a waltz. One, two, three. One, two, three. Brake, Clutch. Shift.”

“Yeah. Forgetting the clutch is what causes that wonderful sound,” Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. She got up, gathering her things for the day. “Canterlot High sub-coach express will be departing in about fifteen minutes. All abooooard.” After making that announcement, Grapes went outside to her small car, and opened its hatchback, settling her accoutrements into the special basket she had secured in the back in the rare case she had passengers. Most of the time said basket was used to keep her groceries from scattering all over her titular trunk department. Grapes went to the passenger side, and adjusted the seat as far back as it would go, considering the sheer size of one of her passengers. Earshot would have to sit in the back. On the driver’s side. Now all Grapes had to do was wait for her passengers to join her.

Earshot was first there. Heavy goggles over his eyes and white cane out, he came down the sidewalk at a light jog before reaching the car. He paused and touched the door frame and then ducked into the back.

“Thank you, Miss Grapes.”

“No problem. Seemed silly to make you ride the bus, since we’re going to the same place,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “Just hope Stormy can fit. Subcompacts tend to be ‘one-size-fits-the-most-average’, but I didn’t want a big car, or a gas guzzler.”

“That makes sense. Petrol is kind of expensive, isn’t it?”

“That it is. No matter where in the world you are, gas is expensive,” Grapes said, nodding, as she checked her watch. “And Stormy’s got five minutes.”

“Oh, he was right behind me, Miss Grapes. I think he stopped to grab his paperwork.”

Earshot tugged the back of the seat back into position just as Stormy exited the house. He was carrying a briefcase and adjusting a tie on his shirt as he ran down to the car. Before Grapes could warn him to watch his head he simply crouched down and crab-walked into the car with such fluid motion she wasn’t even certain how he got in. With the door shut and seatbelts in place he turned and smiled to her.

“Sorry to make you wait. I Had to make certain I had all the right paperwork ready for the front office.”

“...Uh... Makes sense. Okay, everybody strapped in?” Grapes asked, as she started the car. “Cause here we go.” Grapes maneuvered the car out of her driveway, and onto the street. Thankfully it was a bit before rush hour, so they were able to make good time getting to Canterlot High. Grapes prefered to get to the school early, anyway, so she would have time to get her schedule, put up her things, and generally get set and settled for the day ahead. They reached the school, Grapes parking the car in the faculty parking. She got out, and let Earshot out of the back seat. “If you can’t remember where I parked, just meet me by the statue, over there,” Grapes explained, pointing to the Wondercolt statue in front of the school. “I’ll try to get out early enough that we can go to my credit union, and get your banking taken care of.”

“Okay, Miss Grapes. I should be able to find it. Easy enough.”

“Right, you ready for your first day at Canterlot High, little buddy?” Stormfront said, unfolding himself from the car with a surprising ease. “Aw heck, I know you are.”

“I’m still amazed you fit in there,” Grapes said looking at Stormfront in amazement.

“Oh, this?” the gray-haired teen said with a chuckle. “I’m a lot more flexible than most people realise.”

“A LOT more flexible,” agreed Firestormer who was now standing right next to Sour Grapes. “The big guy here is a professionally trained ballet dancer.”

Stormfront could only facepalm at the unwanted intrusion.

“Good for him. Is there a reason you followed us?” Grapes asked.

“I was bored. Storytime at the children’s hospital isn’t until two, my volunteer time at the fire department isn't until four and I got all my reading for the next college class done. So… I figured I’d come along and supply humourous commentary in my sexy dulcet tones.”

“So you can give Stormy a ride to his class before twelve,” Grapes said, as she got her stuff out of the back of her car.

“Not a problem, Grapes. Not the first time I had to share my bike with another guy. Not my favorite sort of passenger mind you, but I’m willing to set machismo aside for a buddy.”

“Good. Now if you two would follow me, I’ll show you the way to the administrative office,” Grapes said, as she walked to the front door.

The school was pretty quiet, some students were there early but they seemed the exception to the rule. She noticed the one with the ridiculous cowboy hat walk past with her arms full of cider cases. Jack… something jack. Applejack. That was it. Her granny worked down in the cafeteria and, rumor has it, made a mean casserole. Noting she seemed to be carrying the drinks to the cafeteria, Grapes shrugged it off and entered the head office… and found Desi Cordngton sitting at the secretary’s desk in a tasteful brown suit, a set of headphones/microphone hooked into the phone system… and still wearing that curious yellow rubber glove. He glanced up at them and made a motion to be given a moment.

“Yes, yes. I’m sure you would like to offer your services, Mister Blueblood, but at this time we simply don’t have a place in the curriculum for a course on table manners in a high-class setting, BUT perhaps we may be able to have you speak on the topic in a one-class lecture. Yes, I am aware it may take more time than that but perhaps if you mention it to be a primer to prepare them for greater things…? Wonderful. Work out your lecture and we’ll find you some time to speak to an auditorium’s worth of youths. Thank you.”

He pressed the “hang up” button and sighed.

“I think in some way he means well but his head is entirely in the wrong place. So… Miss Grapes. How may I help you today?”

“Just making sure these two don’t get lost. Don’t mind the flashy guy. He’s just the big fellow’s ride to his noon class,” Grapes said with a smirk. “I figured I’d do my civic duty, and show them to the administrative office so they can get their paperwork taken care of, before I head to my office.”

“Hmm. Goggles, cane… You must be Earshot, the new ‘Special Needs’ kid. Welcome aboard. You seem mostly good to go, let me take a look through your paperwork and I’m sure I can get you squared away.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Call me Mister Cordington. Hey… You’re our new dance teacher, aren’t you?” Desi pointing at Stormy. “Mister Stormfront, top of his class at the Maneland School of the Arts. Forty-four kinds of dance with ballet as your major. Glad you decided to spread the talent around a little.”

“You are.. remarkably well informed Mister Cordington,” Stormy admitted, adjusting his tie. “How did you remember all of that?”

“Right now our teaching talent is running a little thin so… don’t be too impressed. Still, your classes will be on Tuesday and Thursday and we are grateful for any and all help we can get around here.” The eccentric man took Earshot’s paperwork and began sorting through them. “So, Sour Grapes, how did yesterday treat you? Was it everything you thought it would be?”

“Well, considering I went into the job with grounded expectations, and the knowledge that I would not be setting the teaching world on fire, and inspiring the youth of the nation with just the sound of my voice, it was,” Grapes said with a smile. “Just wish there was some way to jam cell signals… I caught a lot of my class clandestinely texting or browsing MugTome.”

“You and every other teacher who has a class entering their digital prime.” he laughed before turning to the computer and typing away until a schedule came out of the printer. “All right, Earshot, you are now more processed than bologna. Here’s your schedule, conveniently in both print and braille. Your classes begin tomorrow, but I can get one of the students to take you around… I think Miss Fluttershy is around. She’ll no doubt be more than happy to take you to each door in turn.”

“Thank you very much, Mister Cordington.”

“At least it’s not Rainbow Dash…” Grapes observed. “Miss Dash is a bit… flighty. Miss Applejack would be fairly dependable, if she’s related to the Apple family I know. What’s on my agenda, do you know, Desi? I know I have the two world history courses. What does the rest of my day look like, because I’ve got an appointment, this afternoon, to help Earshot, here, with some banking.”

“You’re doing pretty good. Can you cover for Donkey’s 1 PM class? He has a dental that can’t be put off… Broke a tooth on a popcorn kernel that turned out to be gravel.”

“I think I can. I’ll check over his notes, and lesson plan on my free period,” Grapes said, nodding, and heading toward her office. “If I don’t have you in a class, Earshot, I’ll see after school. You have a good day, Stormy. I do hope you stay out of trouble, Firestormer.”

"I'm not a troublemaker," Firestormer said. "I'm a Trouble CRAFTER. Big difference. Really. There is."

"I don't care if you're a trouble manufacturer, don't cause a ruckus, while you're here, or it'll probably end up with you out on your keister,” Grapes warned. “I’m just an intern here, so I need to keep squeaky clean, unless I manage to do something spectacular.”

“All right. Your school, your rule,” Firestormer said.

“Don’t exactly own it, but thanks for the consideration all the same,” Grapes said as she headed off. “Whee, substitute teaching, the second day. What fun…”

Most of the day went pretty much like the first, Grapes having her two history classes, a period in the library, she taking time to look over Donkey’s lesson plan on her free period. Then she had her first foray into teaching math.

Needless to say it was not unlike pulling teeth… Probably because Snips and Snails were part of the 1 PM math class. Still, once that was (blissfully) over with Grapes was free for the rest of the day. However she still had to wait for Earshot to get out of his classes, so she checked into ways to keep busy until then.

She went from room to room, just checking up on the other teachers. Celestia was finding them from somewhere, thank goodness. Just not as fast as the current batch were hoping for. She turned a corner and bumped into a rather homely fellow with some of the most crooked teeth she had ever seen. He was dressed in a Gray polo shirt and slacks and had a pleasant expression on his face as he reached out to help her to her feet again.

“Sorry about that. Let me help you up.”

“Ugh. Thanks. Sorry, I should have been watching where I was going,” Grapes said with a sigh, taking his hand and getting up. “You’re a new face.”

“Nope, same one I’ve always had.” he smiled. “Name’s Dr. Mule, I’m the new councillor at Canterlot High. I am a fully lettered psychologist and psychiatrist so hopefully that will help me with the usual mental stresses of high school.”

“You have my deepest condolences,” Grapes said deadpan. “I just hope you can deal with self-centered tech users. I’m Sour Grapes, teaching intern.”

He shook her hand and nodded. “If you ever need someone to listen, I don’t make a division between the mental health of students and staff.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I’ve never been much for the idea of bearing my soul to a psychiatrist. Last thing I need is to be sent to the nut house by a shrink… uh… sorry. No offence,” Grapes said with a half smile.

“None taken.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” Grapes said, checking her watch. “I’d better get going. I’ve got an appointment to keep. Nice meeting you Dr. Mule.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Grapes went to the front of the school building to stand by the Wondercolt statue, waiting on Earshot to show up.

She heard him coming before she saw him. The tap-tap-tap sound of his cane on the steps gave her ample warning. He seemed to be none the worse for wear for a first day, he smiled and waved.

“Miss Grapes! I thought I smelled your col-og-nee out here.”

“I don’t wear cologne. Or perfume for that matter… What am I smelling like, if I might ask?” Grapes asked sounding worried.

“Like Vanilla. I thought it was something you bought at a perfume store. It’s nice even if it makes me think of fresh baked goods.”

“Vanilla? Oh… That’s my coffee… And I spilt some, this morning,” Grapes explained. “All right, let’s head to the bank and get you squared away. This should make your life, here, a bit easier.”

“Okie dokie.” He agreed, walking along side of her.

“How was your first day?” Grapes asked.

“It was great. Miss Cheerlee is my home room teacher and I’ve been meeting all these nice kids... oh, and a few jerks. By the way, the bathroom in hallway two needs some cleanup.”

“I’m sure Mr. Cordington will find it, Earshot,” Grapes said as they got into her car. “If he doesn’t I’ll tell him in the morning.”

“That’s good. Some kids aren’t very nice, and when the lights are off they can’t even tell friends from the guys they wanna beat up for lunch money,” he said with a little smirk.

“Not everybody has good night vision,” Grapes observed, as she navigated traffic on the way to her credit union. “Though it sounds like those bullies got what they deserved. And you’ve got plausible deniability. Smart move, there, kiddo.”

“Thanks Miss Grapes.” He put his hand out of the window a little and smiled. “Is it always sunny here? I can get used to that.”

“We do have the occasional rain or snow, depending upon season, but we generally have pretty good weather, here. I’d almost swear it’s plot convenient,” Grapes joked with a chuckle as they drove along the roads of Canter City to the financial district. “Have many people trying to hover over you to ‘help’ you because of your disability?”

“Not too many. They’ll open a door for me or something but they seem more confused. Like they’re not sure how I can read words on a blackboard but still need a cane. Guess no one explained that there are all kinds of flavors of ‘blind’ in the world.”

“I guess not. I figure you’re what is known as ‘legally blind’. Meaning you have some difficulty seeing, but you can see to a degree. Just folks tend to think ‘handicapped’ equals ‘helpless’, but I’m not like that. I’m sure if you need help you’ll ask for it,” Grapes observed, as they turned into the credit union’s parking lot. “I did remember what you said about you liking to have ‘autonomy’, after all.”

“It’s a fun word to say. Ooh, is this it?”

“Yes it is. Let’s get your coins sold, and you set up with a bank account,” Grapes said with a nod.

Exactly one hour and seven minutes later…

“Wow… I’m not entirely sure but I think I heard his eyes pop out of his head when he confirmed that my coins were solid silver,” Earshot said, sounding a bit awed.

“He was rather surprised. No wonder he fell all over himself to get you set up with a bank account right after,” Grapes chuckled. “Next time you get your allowance, we’ll repeat the procedure. Question: Can you see close-up?”

“Oh yeah. It’s just when I wear these,” Earshot said as he tapped his goggles for emphasis. “They cloud my eyesight a little. But I need to wear them in daylight or it hurts like someone rubbing salt in them.”

“So you’re both legally blind, and have photosensitive eyes,” Grapes observed. “Good to know.”

“On the plus side I have dark-vision so good nighttime is like daytime to me. A doctor said I have half as many cones and twice as many rods in my eyes… I… probably should one day look that up in a library so I know what it exactly means.”

“It means you have more photoreceptor cells suited for low light vision, than those suited to bright light vision,” Grapes explained. “The rods are the low light cells, and the cones are the bright light cells.”

“So my eyes like light too much to say no to it? No wonder it hurts… I guess that’s why my town is considered the Midnight Party capital of Europe. ALL of my townspeople have the same kind of eyes.”

“It explains why you can see like it’s daylight at night time, too,” Grapes said with a smirk. “Wait… Why is it called the ‘Midnight Party Capitol’?”

"Because our 'day' begins at sundown and after a while a lot of people from all over started finding out that it was a great excuse of a place to go and... what was that phrase? 'Party Hardy' until dawn.” he paused and chuckled softly. “We're also one of the quietest villages in the daytime. Mostly because of everyone sleeping and people with a bad case of cask-illness. We have some daytime people to cover the basics.”

“It’s called a ‘hangover’, Earshot,” Grapes said with a smirk.

“Hangover? What a weird name.”

“Yeah. Usually because they end up hanging over the toilet puking their guts out because of the overindulgence in alcohol,” Grapes said sniggering.

“That actually makes sense. So where to next? A big pink thing told me there was a bakery around here somewhere.”

“‘A big pink thing’?” Grapes asked, as she drove them toward her house. “Actually we’re headed home. You’re going to be doing homework. Assigned by me.”

“Okay. I just thought now that you helped me get local money I can buy everyone something like a tray of sweet buns. ...The Pink Thing… which I’m pretty sure was a really peppy girl, was very happy to suggest it. She called it ‘product awareness’?”

“Ugh… Pinkie Pie…” Grapes groaned. “First and foremost, unless you got some bucks from your deposit, your money won’t be available until tomorrow. Second, we need to activate your debit card, and I won’t do that over my cell phone. Third, you’ve got to learn the right way to balance a checkbook, so you can keep track of your transactions and make sure you don’t overspend. That is what I intend to teach you when we get home. It may seem like you’ve got a lot of money, but it can disappear in a snap if you’re not careful.”

“I know. My father always says, It’s hard being wise, and so much easier to be generous.”

“The idea is to balance both impulses,” Grapes said nodding. “You want nice things, you want to get your friends nice things, but you only get so much to spend. Best to keep it for what you need, rather than blowing it on what you want.”

“Okay… can I get some sweet buns later, then?” Earshot asked.

“Yes, Earshot, you can get sweet buns, later,” Grapes replied, as they pulled into the driveway. “This is going to be an interesting year, isn’t it?”

“Here’s hoping.” Earshot said with a grin, as they went inside.

Author's Note:

Welcome to the Equestria Girls version of the Sour Grapes Chronicles. I hope you enjoy this version as much as you enjoyed the original. Also, if you thought Grapes' speech to her first history class sounded familiar, then you've probably watched Crash Course World History. I liked John Green's speech at the very beginning, I had to paraphrase it.

Comments

[The Incredible Werekitty]

One downvote. One. And whoever-it-was couldn't be bothered to say WHY they downvoted it.

[i_am_the_jam]

Maybe they don't like the EG universe?

[Winda]

Well this is a fun story. Another great addition to your creations bookshelf. It is fun to see characters you know take a new shape (pun intended and I am not sorry for it). Cheers and may words flow like a river for you.

[Fresnor]

Hmm, is Grapes not related to AJ on this side?