Chapter 3: Choose Your Friends Wisely
Twilight Sparkle jolted awake to the sound of a hoof clapping hard right next to her head. She whipped her gaze back and forth to see a roomful of faces staring at her, many with giggles barely held behind their smiles.
“We do not sleep in class, Miss Sparkle!” shouted a magenta mare, who leaned in close with a pointed squint. Twilight could practically hear her teeth grind.
“S-sorry,” Twilight said, sitting up at her desk. The words tumbled from her lips. Where was she?
The mare had returned to the front of the room and tapped a pointer against a diagram drawn on the blackboard. “Now, can you give us the answer?”
Twilight wiped the thin trickle of drool from her cheek and narrowed her eyes at the picture. It was a simple trigonometric problem. Of course she could solve it! She only had to divide by the sine of… No, wait. Sine squared plus…
She stared at the board. A simple problem. Simple! At least it should be. So why didn’t she know? Right on the edge of her brain, but out of reach. So… maddening! Not like a tip-of-the-tongue thing, where she had it but just couldn’t corral it in. More like… deja vu. Like she’d known it before, except her mind might be making up the memory of knowing it, too.
The teacher, Miss… Miss Cheerilee. At least one fact had settled into place. The teacher frowned, and her pointer slid down the board. “Twilight, you need to pay attention. If you don’t do better, you won’t pass this class.”
Not pass!? Twilight’s cheeks flushed, and all those eyes bored into her. She’d never failed a thing in her life! Not that she remembered, anyway. But with the familiar shrugs and smiles all around, it hadn’t exactly come as a surprise to anypony else.
At least the bell chose that moment to ring. A collective shuffle sounded as everypony got up from their desks. “Homework!” Miss Cheerilee shouted above the din. “Page eighty-three, odd-numbered problems! Check your answers in the back, but show your work, or you won’t get credit!”
A rainbow-maned pegasus hovered over the crowd rushing for the door and swooped down by Twilight. “Aw, don’t let her get to you. She should’ve known we had a late night yesterday because of the game. Not like you’ll need trig out in the real world.”
Another fact settled into place—that mare. Rainbow. Her name was Rainbow Dash. “But… you’re passing, aren’t you?”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Barely. Only ’cause the team statistician leaves his notes open on the sidelines. I spot ’em when I’m barreling down the field, breaking tackles”—she crouched low and held a hoof out in front of her—“and being generally awesome. Pegasi are good at noticing details like that.”
“Then… why don’t you do that more and get a good grade?”
Raising an eyebrow, Rainbow glared at her as if she’d said the most uncool thing in the world. What could be uncool about studying? “Pfft. As if. I don’t need it for anything. What’s got you acting like Miss Student all of a sudden, anyway?”
“N-never mind.” Twilight glanced back at her body to make sure she was in the right one. The same purple, the same cutie mark, the same senior-year classes at the same high school. But… the facts. She felt the blood rushing from her face again. Where did all her facts go? She couldn’t remember any more than five or six chemical elements, no calculus, very little history. W-what was happening? No electrical circuits, no Star Cross the Beardless, no teleportation magic in her head. How could she live like this?
“C’mon,” Rainbow said. Twilight jerked her gaze toward the sound, her breathing rapid and shallow. “Let’s get to the cafeteria before somepony takes our table.”
Twilight fell into step behind her, and as they trotted down the hallway, a few others merged in with them. She… she recognized these ponies! Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and Applejack. They all flopped down at what must be “their” table, and Applejack pulled a lunchbox out of her saddlebag.
“They’ve got oatmeal for lunch today,” Pinkie said, sticking her tongue out. “Ick! Let’s just skip the rest of the day.”
“No can do,” Applejack replied through a bite of her sandwich. “I’ve got a history test today.”
And Rarity turned her nose up. “I agree. I have a Fashion Club meeting after school.”
“Oh, alright,” Pinkie mumbled. She put her head down on the table and puffed her bottom lip out.
Why would anypony skip school? Twilight couldn’t think of anything else more fun… well, trigonometry sure hadn’t been much fun today. As the fog slowly lifted from her mind, snippets of images popped up in her memory.
Of course! Rainbow had mentioned a game last night. Applejack and Rainbow Dash starred on the school’s hoofball team. They’d won the season opener against Fillydelphia High yesterday. Rarity was captain of the cheerleading squad, and Pinkie and Twilight were the only other four-year members. That explained her decidedly informal skirt with a mascot emblazoned on it.
“I’ll just stay with AJ,” Pinkie said. “The rest of you, go on through the line without me.”
“Y’all know I always have some extra apples, just in case,” Applejack said with a wink. “Here, knock yourself out.” She slid a small paper bag across the table.
Pinkie immediately sat up and pricked her ears. “Thanks, Applejack! You’re a share-y, care-y mare-y!”
For the life of her, Twilight couldn’t explain why that tickled her, but she let out a loud snort.
“Heavens!” Rarity said, holding a hoof to her chest.
“Sorry.” Rarity did glance back at her a couple more times as they went through the line, but soon, a couple of other students sitting at a corner table had drawn her attention. So Twilight just picked out a vegetable plate and a bottle of carrot juice before getting to… the cashier.
Oh yeah. Money. Twilight dug through her saddlebag, and the longer she failed to turn up any coins, the more her face went cold. “Forget your lunch money again, darling?” Rarity asked, already a few steps back toward their table.
“Um… yeah.” Twilight slouched and gave her saddlebag another fruitless glance.
“I swear, if your head weren’t attached… No matter,” Rarity said with a smile and wave of her hoof. “Lunch is my treat today.” And she pulled out a bit purse with a whole lot of coins in it. Where did she get that kind of money? Oh, and Twilight had forgotten to say…
“Thank you, Rarity. I appreciate it.” Something always seemed so fake about that. Of course Twilight was grateful, but saying so had become such a part of the song and dance, less about real gratitude and more about proper decorum. She’d benefitted from Rarity’s generosity enough times that she really did owe her, though.
So Rarity gave one of her little nods and led the way to their seats. And she immediately started on those two students she’d been watching. “Did you see Bon Bon hanging all over Lyra last week?” She inclined her head toward that same table, where Bon Bon wore a huge smile while Lyra stared at a textbook. “I swear, Lyra’d have to be completely dense not to notice.”
“I don’t think she’s interested,” Dash said. “I heard she was hoping Caramel would ask her to the homecoming dance.”
“Ooh, that’s right! Big dance party coming up. I can’t wait!” Pinkie squealed while she juggled her apples.
Applejack raised an eyebrow and put a hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder. “Them’s for eatin’, sugarcube.” Pinkie flashed a sheepish smile, and Applejack shrugged. “So, who you takin’?”
“Nopony, silly filly! I have to run the party. I won’t have any time to hang out with a date,” Pinkie replied with a giggle. “What about you?”
With a shrug, Applejack leaned back in her seat. “Hoops asked me a couple weeks ago. Y’know, the one with the basketball cutie mark.”
“Cool!” Rainbow said. “I’m going with his friend, Dumb-Bell. He’s captain of the wrestling team.”
Rarity smirked and let out a low chuckle. “We seem to have the athletic department covered. Naturally, I’m going with our star wide receiver, Buttonhook.” She waved a casual hoof around. Knowing her, she could have gotten a date with anypony she wanted. And yet she hardly ever went out with the same one twice. Twilight had asked her why once. Her friend had never really answered, only muttering something about “goldbrickers,” but without looking angry, only slumping a little and staring intensely at the table, as if it had betrayed her somehow.
Twilight shook her head. Whatever had clouded her mind earlier seemed to have dissipated, but it hadn’t left behind any physics or literature. So she really didn’t know trigonometry.
“Yeah, that pony catches every pass I throw his way,” Applejack said. “He’s got soft hooves on the field. Just make sure he keeps ’em to himself.”
“He will. He will, or he’ll have my father to answer to.” Rarity took a forkful of her vegetables and didn’t bat an eye.
Applejack quickly nodded. “Not if he didn’t want a nice impression of my horseshoe on his—”
“Moving along…” Rainbow said with a roll of her eyes. “Who’s taking you, Twilight?”
What had even happened to her this morning? It felt a world away now, everything as it should be, though that sensation of confidence that she actually knew something… it was nice. It was nice for a change.
“Twilight?”
Rainbow was staring at her. “Oh. Sorry. Um, I don’t have a date yet.”
“Better get crackin’, Twi. Time’s a-wastin’. Only a month off,” Applejack said with a tip of her hat.
Pinkie groaned and covered her head with her hooves. “Don’t remind me. I have so much to do!”
And Rarity leaned in closer. “I know the good ponies get snapped up quickly, dear, but a cheerleader can’t be seen dateless. So gauche.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.” Wait… one fact hadn’t clicked into place yet. “Who’s taking Fluttershy?” Why did that name stick in her head? She couldn’t even put a face with that name.
“Who cares about her?” Pinkie said. “Miss Brooding Poet? Find somepony who can quote Edgar Allen Pony and put him in some black lipstick and eyeliner.” Rarity shuddered. “That’d be her dream date.”
Fluttershy wasn’t…? Right. She… she didn’t know Fluttershy. Not well, anyway. Just another student in her literature class.
Rainbow jerked her head toward the cashier. “Speaking of hopeless cases, the floor show has arrived.”
From one side of the cafeteria to the other, Derpy floated in a twisting path, barely avoiding chairs and students. Her tray of muffins teetered back and forth until it finally slid off her back and clattered to the floor. Rainbow slapped Applejack on the back, and Pinkie joined in the raucous laughter floating around the room.
At least Applejack only returned a wry smile, and Rarity didn’t react at all. But none of them exactly sprang to help as Derpy gathered what she could of her spilled lunch. “Classic Derpy,” Rainbow commented, wiping a tear from her cheek.
The other three were still occupied, so… Twilight scooted nearer to Rarity. “Have… have you thought about what you’ll do after graduation?”
“Work for my father, of course. He’s not going to run the company forever. Why? Having second thoughts?” Rarity raised an eyebrow.
“I… I don’t know. I…” Twilight hadn’t ever cared too much about life after high school, so why now?
Rarity turned a warm smile on her. “Don’t you worry. You’ve got a spot as well. City manager for his shops in Fillydelphia. Not a demanding job, really—you just delegate everything, as long as your staff is halfway competent. Move up from there—” she circled a hoof in the air “—and before you know it, you’re retired at forty-five.”
Slowly, Rarity turned her attention back to her lunch. “All in place,” she added as an afterthought.
“It just… doesn’t seem fair. I mean, I didn’t do anything to earn it.” Twilight’s throat almost closed up on those words. It didn’t want to say them. Yesterday, she wouldn’t have wanted to say them. But this morning… something had happened.
Rarity eyed her curiously. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, darling.”
Why couldn’t she just spit it out? She’d always gotten the impression before that Rarity’s generosity came with a price tag attached, but she’d never seen her friend look at her this way, like she was really listening.
“I was thinking I might, I don’t know, go to college or something.” She’d better wrap this up. The applause for Derpy had died down, and the other girls at the table would be paying attention soon.
“With your grades?” Rarity pursed her lips and shook her head. “Take the job, dear.”
Twilight’s head hurt. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful,” she said, sitting up straighter. “I’ve had a lot of things just handed to me all my life, and one of these days, I might want to do something on my own, that I earned.” Her own family had plenty of money. So did Pinkie’s and Dash’s and Applejack’s. It’d opened a lot of doors for her. A lot of doors that shouldn’t have been opened, but…
No, that wasn’t fair, either. Her parents wanted the best for her, and so did Rarity. And Applejack must have heard something, because she’d turned back and was peering at Twilight.
“I don’t know,” Twilight hastily pushed out as she stood up. “Never mind.” She had to get across the building for her next class anyway, and the bell would ring in a few minutes.
But as she glanced back, Rarity’s smile had changed again. Not an unchecked one for a friend in an insouciant moment, but one crafted with care for a respected business associate.
One she’d earned, Twilight thought as she trotted off to class.
“Okay, students, let’s pick up where we left off yesterday,” Bookbinder said. He sat on the corner of his desk with a paperback in hoof and a leg dangling over the floor. “In The Mare Wives of Whinnysor, what is Shakespur trying to say about class warfare?”
Twilight hunched down in her seat and looked around. One student had her hoof raised. A yellow pegasus—was that… Fluttershy? Bookbinder overlooked her, though. Probably raised her hoof on every question, if what Pinkie had said about her was true.
“Twilight Sparkle, what do you think?”
Oh crud. “Um…” The same thing as in math class, but stronger this time. She should know this. They’d read the play in class and for homework over the last two weeks. Why wouldn’t that stupid thing stick in her head? So many famous works of literature—she could rattle off lots of titles, but not a single thing about any of them. The image of sitting in a quiet library and an old book in her hooves, the smell of musty paper, the satisfying sound of a page flipping… They felt like a part of her, but one torn away somehow.
Twilight pressed a hoof to her chest and grimaced. Nothing, no connection. All those words had flown through her head and left nothing behind. Bookbinder peered at her. She couldn’t have him asking questions, not now. She was going nuts or something, and…
She pursed her lips, stared at her desktop, and shook her head.
“Twilight, you’ve got to learn this material. I’m concerned. You won’t graduate if you don’t pass this class.” Another chill ran down her back. Twice in one day? If only she could shrink into her seat and disappear.
Except… oddly familiar now. Barely scraping by, year after year. She’d done that for a while now, because she didn’t care—no, because she shouldn’t care. At least that’s what everypony told her.
“Okay, Fluttershy? What is Shakespur saying to you?”
“Um… Well…”
If she didn’t want to answer, why had she volunteered?
Fluttershy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “The action mainly focuses on the plight of the middle class and uses the old myth about horns and cuckolds to poke fun at the unicorn aristocracy.”
“Good, good,” Bookbinder said. “That’s the basic idea.”
That sounded so simple! Why couldn’t Twilight come up with that herself? It made sense, except… she couldn’t remember enough of the text to verify it. Fluttershy could have said anything halfway intelligent, and Twilight wouldn’t have known any better than to nod and agree.
All of that knowledge had gone somewhere. Is this what it felt like for everypony else? Like most of what happened at school just slipped through their hooves for good? Except… it happened to her, too! If she thought it’d help, she’d pound a hoof against her desk.
She’d always had trouble, always struggled to cram as many facts as she could in, only to have them all leak back out. She hadn’t been fair. She hadn’t been sympathetic to all these students who couldn’t learn so easily. And she was one of them herself!
For the rest of the class, she leaned her head on a hoof and stared out the window. The discussion swirled around her head, even poked its way into her ears from time to time, but what did it matter? Her nerves tingled the whole time. What did it matter?
It took her a minute to realize the bell had rung. So Twilight stumbled into the hallway, and there, right in front of her…
“Fluttershy!” she gasped.
“W-what?” Fluttershy said, peeking over the top of her notebook.
“Can I ask you something?”
Fluttershy only gaped back at her. Ponies like Twilight simply didn’t talk to Fluttershy, of course. She glanced around, probably waiting for the punchline, or maybe hoping a moment of attention from a senior cheerleader might be parlayed into some sort of status symbol.
“Fluttershy, are you okay?” Twilight said, cocking her head. The poor girl had gone even paler.
“Yes, just…” Fluttershy squeezed her eyes shut. “Just go away! I’m not here for your entertainment. Leave me alone!” She ran off down the hall, leaving Twilight staring after her.
“Twilight, don’t bother her,” a voice barked from behind her. “You should know better.”
Twilight turned to face Manila Folder, the school’s guidance counselor. “I wasn’t. I wanted to ask her for help in literature class.”
The stallion pressed a hoof between his eyes and took a deep breath. “Step in here a moment, please,” he said, holding open the door to his office.
“I have history class—”
“I’ll write you a note.” His stare kept boring into her.
So she followed him in and took the old threadbare seat beside his desk. She’d sat there enough times before.
He plopped into his own chair and took off his glasses. “Twilight Sparkle, this is no time for jokes. If only you were that serious about your studies. Your teachers have expressed their concern to me that you are failing literature and trigonometry. And you’re barely holding a C in history. You cannot graduate without those credits.”
Did… did he expect an answer? She knew that already. She didn’t need him reminding her.
“Have you given any thought to what kind of career you’d like?” he finally said.
“I’d always assumed I’d do something with magic.” The words popped out of her mouth before she’d even given them any consideration. The obvious answer. The one she should give, the one everypony would expect her to give.
Manila shook his head. “You’re long past the age when you’d be identified as having an unusual talent for magic. You can barely levitate your saddlebags. What is it that you think you can do with that?”
Twilight shrugged. She stared at her hooves and held in the tears as hard as she could.
“If you don’t start taking this seriously, how will you support yourself?”
“I’ll work for Rarity.” She didn’t say it, though. She couldn’t. Do what for Rarity? She’d never elaborated. Some cushy job, a charity case for a friend who couldn’t do anything for herself. Paid to sit there and let the wind whistle through her ears. She had to get out of here.
“Tell you what,” he said, pointing at the calendar on the wall. “The school is hosting a career day in two weeks. I’d like to see you there. We’ll have representatives from a lot of local businesses, and you should be able to find something that interests you. Please listen to them about what it takes to succeed. Okay?”
Twilight nodded. She wouldn’t give in to those tears.
“Good.” Manila scratched his signature on a slip of paper. “Here’s a hall pass. You may go now.”
How had Twilight never noticed Derpy in her math class before? Up in the front row and scribbling notes furiously from the half-intelligible scrawls on the blackboard. She sure blended in well. Derpy probably considered that a blessing.
Twilight glanced up at the row of tests pinned to the bulletin board next to her. The “row of honor,” as Miss Cheerilee called it. A 97 for Lyra, 99 for Berry Punch… 100 for Derpy. Next row down, another 100. And another. Nothing less than perfection.
Everypony treated her like she was an idiot. Twilight probably had, too. Ugh, as if she didn’t feel like crap already!
Fine. She’d talk to Derpy after class. Manila Folder was right—Twilight had never really looked beyond the next few months, if that. Maybe the time had come to show some discipline and organization. Organization. She liked the sound of that.
And there went the bell, so no time like the present! She picked up her saddlebag and trotted into the hallway, two or three ponies behind Derpy. A comfortable distance. No. Comfortable wouldn’t get her anywhere.
She weaved her way through traffic and caught up to Derpy. “Um… Excuse me—I wonder if… I could talk to you about—”
Derpy frowned, flicked a hoof at her, and kept walking.
“Derpy, please, I want to ask you something.”
Whirling around, Derpy glared at her. “Ask me what? If I’m feeling extra klutzy today? What I’m looking at up here and down there? You’ve never said anything to me I wanted to hear, Twilight Sparkle! Why would you start now?”
Twilight’s breath stuck in her throat, and she coughed. “I-I’m sorry.” She looked at the floor. “I realize I probably haven’t been very kind to you. And I bet it only makes things worse that I don’t know for sure.”
At least Derpy hadn’t left. So Twilight looked her in the eye. She deserved that. “Derpy, my life is going nowhere,” she said, her lip trembling. “I’ve never thought about what happens after high school. I thought I could skate by on popularity, and to be honest, I can’t remember why it was so important to me. But it’s not enough. I need your help. Please.”
Derpy shuffled her hooves and blinked. “O-okay. What do you want?”
Even that small opening had Twilight walking on air. She breathed out harder than she’d meant to. “I’m failing trig, and I won’t graduate if I don’t pull my grade up. Can you tutor me?”
“I… I suppose so.” Derpy pulled out a piece of paper and wrote something on it. A time, it looked like. “I’ve got Debate Club, Quiz Bowl, and Math Team, so Wednesday is my only free afternoon.”
“Oh… That’s my spa day with the girls…”
Derpy sighed. “I see you haven’t changed.”
“N-no, Derpy. I’ll take it. And—” she smiled “—thank you.”
Derpy smiled back.
After lunch, Twilight kept her eye on the pegasus a few rows in front of her. Bookbinder was prattling on about some poem, but no hope for that one now. Fluttershy had on a vinyl jacket, boots, mascara, way too much eyeliner—all black.
Twilight had to try again. That girl was on the odd side, but when Twilight had worked on the school newspaper and the yearbook, she’d seen a few of the poems Fluttershy had submitted. It had struck her as quite vivid and engaging. Not that she understood it, but it sure created a mood, one that took her a few hours to shake sometimes. What a knack she had for it, and… Twilight probably should have told her that before. Just… the black hoof polish, the nose rings—Fluttershy seemed to reinvent herself every few months. Back in the fall, she’d worn a big Rasthoofarian hat.
So when class had ended, Twilight followed her target into the hallway again. “Fluttershy, I didn’t get the chance to ask you yesterday—”
“I thought I told you to leave me alone!”
“Please, Fluttershy,” Twilight said, holding a hoof forward. “I’m on the student newspaper staff, and I’ve seen a lot of your writing come across the layout table. It’s amazing.”
Fluttershy jutted her chin forward. “Oh, really? Which ones? What did you like best about them?”
“The one about your mother. I-I can’t say I really understood it, but it just sounds right to read it. It left me feeling strange for a couple days. And the one for the Summer Sun Celebration. I could close my eyes and feel like I was right there. Some of your word choices seemed weird at first, but at second glance, they fit perfectly. You really know how to create an image.”
Fluttershy’s jaw dropped. “You… you did read it.” She took a lock of mane and held it across her muzzle. “Okay, what did you want to ask?”
She could do this. Twilight sucked in a breath. “I won’t graduate if I don’t pass literature. I need a tutor.”
“The Drama Club is rehearsing for the spring play,” Fluttershy said, rolling her eyes up, “so I can only do Thursdays after school.”
“Oh. We always watch hoofball practice on…” Fluttershy had the beginnings of a scowl on her face. “No, that’ll work. And thank you.”
With their normal math classroom empty at the end of the day, it made an ideal place to meet. Of course, it didn’t hurt that none of the other cheerleaders would set hoof anywhere nearby. “You see,” Derpy said, sketching out a diagram on the blackboard, “you don’t have to memorize as much if you understand why it works. The rest will make sense because you can figure it out, not because you have to store the words up there without the meaning.” She tapped a hoof against her head.
“Here, start with the unit circle. You’ve seen this enough times that you must know it by now.” She etched a triangle inside a circle and drew a little box inside its bottom corner. “Remember? Right angle goes down here. The horizontal leg is the cosine, and the vertical leg is the sine. What’s this length?” she said, tracing a hoof along the triangle’s slanted side.
“Umm…” Twilight bit the edge of her hoof.
“Unit circle.”
A light flashed in Twilight’s brain. “Oh! Um, one, right?”
“Yes!” Derpy said with a sharp nod. “It’s a radius of the circle. So what do you remember about right triangles?”
Twilight scratched her head. Something about… “Oh, the, the uh… The hyp-hypo…”
“Hypotenuse.”
“Hypotenuse! You square the other sides and add them up, by the, uh, the Ponythagorean Theorem.” That couldn’t be right. She’d never dredge up a fact like that. Except Derpy was nodding again. “So… sine squared plus cosine squared equals… one squared?”
Quickly, Derpy wrote down what Twilight had said. “Good! Now to get the other forms, just pick something to divide by. Try dividing everything in this equation by cosine squared and see what you get.” She held out the chalk to Twilight.
The second part canceled out. So one. The first was… tangent.
“Don’t forget the squared.”
Oh yeah. She marked the little two up there. Then one over cosine squared. She squinted at it for a second. “Secant? I can never keep them straight.”
“Right. Little mnemonic device I use: the ‘co’s don’t go together, so one divided by cosine is secant.” Then Derpy took the chalk back and wrote out another line. “And you get the third form by dividing sine squared instead. Make sense?”
It… it did. It actually did. She couldn’t help smiling. When was the last time math had made her smile?
“See what I mean?” Derpy said with a pat on Twilight’s shoulder. “If you understand the basic principle, you can figure out the rest. You don’t have to cram it in your head.”
Twilight stared at the board. Not just a random collection of lines and letters anymore. Something made sense! Had the teacher not explained it? Or had Twilight just ignored her?
“You’re getting the hang of it! C’mon, let’s pull out a couple of the homework problems from last semester and work through them.”
Twilight didn’t move. She kept staring at the board as if seeing it anew. Finally, she faced Derpy. “Thank you,” she said.
Derpy smiled and blushed, but she looked away. “C’mon,” she repeated as she got out her textbook.
“So where were you yesterday afternoon?” Dash asked, pulling a bag of grapes out of her lunchbox.
“Yeah, we waited for you at the spa, but we had to go in or risk losing our time slot,” Pinkie added. Through her mouthful of sandwich, on full display for everypony.
Rarity rolled her eyes and took a sip of her water. “Where did you go, dear?”
At first, Twilight tried a shrug, but everypony kept looking at her. Not much chance of playing it off, then. “I… had an appointment.”
“What kind of appointment, sugarcube?” Applejack asked before taking a bite of her apple.
“Oh, nothing. Just… um…”
Beside her, Rarity leaned over and rested a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “If it’s personal, just say so. We won’t press you to reveal anything uncomfortable.”
“Yeah,” Pinkie added, the rest joining in with nods. “Don’t fret your little purple head.”
Like a cool breeze, a tingle ran through Twilight’s nerves, and her strength drained from her. Why did they have to make it so hard? Her best friends for years—she’d come to love them all. Yet she had to keep her secret from them. They wouldn’t understand. If only they’d stayed mean and petty, it would have made things so much easier.
Then Rarity patted her. “I do hope it’s nothing serious. We’d all do whatever we could to help, of course.” Another round of nods.
Would they, though? They really cared about her, and watching their smiling faces—they could be so mean or so kind from one moment to the next.
And then there was Rarity. Little signs, little flashes of… something. Whatever had gotten her smiling the other day, or whatever had kept her from joining in with the crowd laughing at Derpy. Speaking of which… There Derpy came into the cafeteria, trying to balance a stack of books and her lunch.
It must have caught Dash’s eye. “Oh, here we go!” she said, cocking her head in that direction.
“Oh, did you see Daisy’s new hairdo?” Twilight broke in. “It looks so cute!”
“I agree,” Rarity said. “The shorter length suits her, and it’s a nice way to get ready for the warmer weather. If only she’d accessorize better to bring out her colors!”
Dash only shrugged. “Whatever. You gonna be at practice today, Twi?”
Behind Dash, Derpy walked on to her seat. Alone, unnoticed. Probably how she preferred it. It had to be better than having everypony cheer on her mistakes.
Why did it mean so much to Dash to have them watch her practices anyway? Applejack was never the one who asked that question, but she sure changed her demeanor once an audience showed up. Strutting around, calling plays a little louder, an extra swing in her step. But what good did it do? Twilight, Pinkie, and Rarity never really paid attention—just sat around chatting. It wasn’t like Applejack and Dash ever came to watch cheerleading practice, either.
“No,” Twilight finally answered, all eyes on her again. “I have another appointment.”
“You sure got a lot of appointments,” Applejack remarked.
Dash leaned back in her seat and raised an eyebrow. “Yeeeaaah. I hope you won’t be making a habit of this.”
“She won’t!” Pinkie answered for her. “You’ll be there next week, won’t you?” Of course, Pinkie wore one of her huge smiles. At least she had no doubts.
But Rarity sidled closer. “I do hope nothing’s wrong. You’ll tell me if I can do anything for you.”
Twilight nodded back. “Hey!” she said to the whole group. “Everypony got their tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala yet? Not too far off!”
“Got mine!” Pinkie chirped.
“My father already placed our order,” Rarity added.
The rest joined in, too, but Twilight didn’t really hear. She watched Derpy, enjoying what must be a rare treat for her: a quiet lunch.
Twilight sat down across the table from Fluttershy. Bookshelves towered on both sides of them, and for how little Twilight had ever read, those books still felt like a warm blanket around her. Quiet, solitude, knowledge: not the typical things that might comfort a cheerleader, but here she was, back in some little-used corner of the library.
An odd jingling sound… Twilight looked up, now that the absence of any other sound let it stand out. Metal on metal—a lot of metal. Fluttershy took off her vinyl jacket, and all the little chains clinked one last time before settling into silence. Then Fluttershy undid yet another chain going from her nose to her right ear, took off multiple pairs of dangle earrings, and removed the tongue stud that kept clicking against her teeth.
“Sorry,” she whispered, blushing a bit. “I didn’t exactly dress for the library today. I forgot until third period, to be honest.” She hid one eye behind her flowing mane, and… gone was the steely glint in her gaze that first time Twilight had spoken to her in the hall. Softer now, pliant.
Good. She shouldn’t have to build up her armor because of Twilight.
“So where are you in this semester’s reading list? I gather you haven’t made it to The Mare Wives of Whinnysor yet,” Fluttershy said.
Twilight reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a beaten-up paperback. “I just finished Lord of the Horseflies.”
“Ah, yes. By Gelding.”
Twilight winced. “Unfortunate choice of a pen name, huh?”
And behind that pink mane, Fluttershy giggled. Twilight had never seen her laugh before. She wasn’t sure Fluttershy could.
But then Fluttershy frowned. “That’s not very far in. You have some catching up to do.”
With a nod, Twilight ran her hoof over the book’s cover. “Yeah… I’ve tried, but I’m no good at this.”
“Twilight Sparkle!” she said. Twilight jumped. She wouldn’t have thought Fluttershy capable of raising her voice, either. “Don’t you even think that way. Do you remember what you said when I asked if you’d read my poems?”
“Uhh… I said I liked them.”
“You also said they had some strange word choices at first glance but that fit well after reading them, right?” She smiled like she’d already won.
“I guess.”
Here came that steel in her eyes again, but different this time. Not a shield. “No. Don’t guess. What did you mean?”
“Well… like some of the words seemed like fancier ones than you really needed. But they fit a rhythm better. I could hear it in my head—” Twilight pointed a hoof at her temple “—and they had a flow to them. Then when I thought about it, they had like a symbolic meaning or, like, more figurative.”
Fluttershy smiled. “You say ‘like’ a lot when you get nervous.” And now Twilight had to giggle. “But you’re right. See how easy that was? Those aren’t exactly basic concepts, either, but here you are discussing them.”
“I guess.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted—
“No! Don’t guess.”
“Okay.” Twilight pursed her lips.
Fluttershy gave a sharp nod. “Good. Now, what did you think of that book?” she asked, jutting her muzzle toward it.
“Well… it’s just a bunch of foals running around in chaos, and it turns rather violent. It seems like a bunch of colts playing army.” Twilight let her gaze drop to the table and suppressed the “I guess” that wanted to follow.
“That’s not a bad general characterization, but it doesn’t really get to the meaning. These authors don’t just throw some words down on a page for the fun of it. They have something to say. Put yourself in the same situation and ask yourself what you’d do. You’re marooned somewhere with a bunch of classmates and no hope of a quick rescue. Maybe nopony even knows where you are, and if they did, it would take them a while to get there. How do you react?” Without looking, Twilight could still feel that metallic stare.
“We’d need food, water, shelter… I’d start foraging, getting ponies organized.” Which was exactly—
“Which was exactly what happened in the book. See? From the author’s side, the story still has to make sense. You still have to believe that reasonable ponies could act this way. So Gelding’s done his job here.”
That did make sense. Twilight looked up again, and Fluttershy wore a faint smile. “But who does what task and why?” Fluttershy asked.
That situation wouldn’t change the logic, would it? “I think you’d have to figure out who was best for each. It’d work better than throwing random ponies at it.”
Fluttershy nodded again. “And who gets to decide that?”
“You’d… have to find a senior pony or a natural leader.”
Her mane finally sliding over to reveal both eyes, Fluttershy leaned forward and spoke rapidly. “Would everypony agree on who should do that? And how does that pony stay in power? Only as long as they have enough support. What’s good for the group may not be good for every individual. What if she tells you to go cut firewood because you’re the best at it, but you really hate doing it? Or what if she lets you build huts because it’s all you want to do, but you’re horrible at it? See, they’re setting up a society. The majority lets the leader decide because she has their confidence. But what if enough decide they can do better, and they choose to leave? Now they’re in competition for the same resources.”
“Oh… yeah.” When somepony else said it, then it made sense. “But they came from a military academy, right? Wouldn’t they be used to living in a structured system like that?”
“Sure, but the initial crash causes a huge disruption,” Fluttershy said. She reached out and tapped Twilight’s book. “It takes them a while to find their way back to that. Or maybe they wanted to give chaos a try at first and didn’t find it to their liking. Either way, that’s where they end up.”
Right. But… a spark lit in Twilight’s head, a piece clicked into place. She… she understood. “But everything still goes wrong.”
Fluttershy spoke, still in rapid-fire mode—“Yes, because the children don’t have the maturity to make it work or to provide effective leadership. Then in the end, when they all get rescued, all they can do is cry and be grateful that they have that structure back, from ponies who know how to impose it. So—”
Twilight held up a hoof, and Fluttershy shrunk back into her seat, deflated. “Oh… I’m sorry…”
“No, just—” Twilight said. “Let me try. It… it means that we prefer order, but some ponies will take advantage of that to gain power. The two will always be in conflict.”
“Good!” Fluttershy gushed. She lurched forward and grabbed Twilight in a hug, and in the split second it took Twilight’s body to go rigid, Fluttershy had already flopped into her chair again and taken refuge behind her mane. “I mean… sorry…”
Fluttershy wouldn’t get away that easily. Twilight took one of Fluttershy’s forehooves in both of hers and donned a broad grin. “Thank you.”
At least Fluttershy sat up straighter. “See, you can get it. Well, I can’t guarantee that’s what the author meant. Only he can. Ponies claim conflicting interpretations of literary works all the time. What matters is that you found a valid point it could be making and supported it with evidence from the story. That’s all there is to it, really.” She returned Twilight’s smile, too. “So, what’s next on your reading list?”
Once could have been a fluke. That phrase about a stopped clock came to mind.
But Twilight had gotten a B on last week’s essay in literature class. And one on the math quiz, too. Then another B on this week’s literature test. She’d never seen a B before, except on other students’ papers.
An A though, on yesterday’s test. In math! She stared at it as if it might disappear the instant she looked away. After only a few weeks studying with Derpy and Fluttershy, she’d come so far. Her teachers had noticed, too. At first, they’d asked her if she’d cheated. She couldn’t blame them. But when she explained and mentioned her tutors’ names, they’d stopped asking. They’d even said they’d weight her recent performance more when calculating her final grades in both classes.
They’d said they were proud of her.
No teacher had said that since the days it only took coloring in a nice picture. Better yet, she was proud of herself. But it came at a price.
“Twilight, dear, I’m beginning to wonder if you’ll ever make another spa day!” Rarity said as she set her tray on the table and twisted the cap off her bottle of juice. She added a wink, though. The rest had nagged her about it, but she could never quite figure Rarity out. “Always with these mysterious ‘appointments.’”
“I know,” Twilight answered, “but it’s important. I—”
“Big Mac told me he saw you hangin’ out with Derpy last week,” Applejack said. She didn’t look up from her sandwich.
Oh. Twilight let out a sigh. Keeping it from them probably wouldn’t have ever worked, but it had lasted long enough to get her hopes up. Time to spill the beans, then. “Yeah, she’s been… helping me in math. I’m going to pass now.”
“That worth missin’ spa day?”
“Yes—I mean…” Twilight rubbed a hoof between her eyes. “I have to graduate, don’t I?”
Finally, Applejack looked up. “That still in doubt?”
“N-no, I should be fine from now on. But—”
Applejack grinned and clapped a hoof against Twilight’s shoulder. “Good! So you’re comin’ to practice this week then, huh?”
Twilight folded her ears back and stared at her tray.
“Lemme guess,” Dash said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s no coincidence that you’ve missed all of those, too.
“F-Fluttershy agreed to tutor me in literature, but that’s the only day she can.”
“You’d really leave us for them?” Pinkie burst out. “That’s crazy!” She rustled her hooves through her mane until it stuck out in all directions, and she wore a maniacal smile.
Twilight glanced over at Rarity, who only sat there, quietly eating her lunch. “No, I’m not choosing—I just need to watch my grades. What’s wrong with that?”
Waving a hoof, Dash clicked her tongue. “But they’re good enough now. I get it. You didn’t want to risk being held back a year. But you got it now. Smooth sailing. Nothin’ but net. So what’s the problem?”
Twilight clenched her teeth. She hadn’t expected it to go quite this rough. “I-I have to think past high school. It’s not enough to just pass.” Rainbow already had her mouth open for some retort. “No. Look—when you’re running track, do you only go fast enough to win? Or do you run as hard as you can every time? You want to set that record. You want to push yourself. Why?”
“Duh. ’Cause that’ll get me a scholarship so I can turn pro later.” Dash raised an eyebrow as if Twilight had said the stupidest thing possible. “So what if you get a B instead of a C? What’ll that change? You’re still gonna go work for Rarity’s dad. Don’t forget who your friends are.”
Pinkie wore a vacant stare. “Wow. We got rejected for Derpy and Fluttershy. The two biggest geeks in the school.”
“No, I didn’t reject you!” Twilight swallowed hard. “I love you all to death, but I need this! For once in my life, I have to do something on my own that wasn’t just given to me. I want better than ‘good enough.’ Can’t you understand that?”
“Of course we can,” Rarity immediately chimed in.
Applejack scrunched her nose up, but at least she agreed. “Yeah, sugarcube. I can get that. It’s just… we miss you.” Pinkie and Dash eventually nodded along with her.
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re all still my friends, and I still love hanging out with you. But for right now, I have to do this.” With another gulp scraping down her dry throat, she looked over at Derpy, eating by herself again. “And please leave them alone. They’re really nice when you get to know them.”
Nopony answered. Well enough, since Twilight didn’t feel like talking anymore. Pinkie eventually piped up about cheerleading practice—the one thing Twilight hadn’t missed—and a perfectly normal conversation continued for the rest of lunch. But Rarity had stood up for her right away. The rest needed a bit of prodding, but they did eventually do the right thing. Rarity, though… Rarity had been in her corner all along. She could have taken offense, since Twilight had come dangerously close to spurning her father’s standing offer for a job. Instead, she always wore that soft smile.
Maybe Twilight wouldn’t have to choose.
Twilight stepped into the classroom and quietly closed the door behind her, giving one glance back to see if anypony noticed. And she sighed at herself for doing so.
She turned to face Fluttershy and Derpy, both standing up by the blackboard. “Thanks for coming,” she said. “I know you’d rather get your weekend started than stay after school on a Friday, but it’s the only time you were both available, and it won’t take long anyway.”
While they exchanged a raised eyebrow, Twilight opened her saddlebag and levitated out two small boxes. “Please. You did so much for me, and I want to do something in return.”
Derpy smiled, but Fluttershy, as usual, hid behind her mane. She did sit down at one of the desks, though, and tore off the wrapping paper. Then she pulled out a silver charm in the shape of a spiderweb. Her face instantly brightened, and she clipped it onto her saddlebag’s buckle strap. “I love it! Thank you!”
With a little grin of her own, Derpy opened hers next: a similar charm, but shaped like a muffin. Her grin widened, but she didn’t say anything, only staring at the floor.
After a moment, Twilight hadn’t said any more. Not for lack of trying, but… why did this have to be so hard? Fluttershy stood up. “W-was that all?” she said.
“No,” Twilight answered, closing her eyes. “Are you two planning on going to the prom?”
When she didn’t get a reply, Twilight opened her eyes again.
“I can’t,” Derpy said with a shrug. “I’m only a sophomore. And why would I want to hang out with those ponies?”
Fluttershy shook her head. “No. Who’d ask me? And I don’t want to go alone.”
“Well, I wanted to say this to both of you so you could speak up if you thought going as a group might help. Not as dates, just as friends. You might find safety in numbers, and you might have a good time. I’d like it if you’d accompany me.”
They stood there open-mouthed, Derpy’s wings twitching as if she could dash out the open window, and Fluttershy eyeing the convenient hiding place under the desk. But neither would speak. “Um…” Twilight said.
“Don’t you already have a date?” Fluttershy finally asked. “I imagine you’d have your pick. Or second pick… I guess… after Rarity.” She cocked her head and let her forelock cover one eye.
“No, it just never seemed that important. I don’t know why. You’d expect so, huh? I haven’t felt right for a while, and even thinking about that only seemed to make it worse.” Twilight pursed her lips and looked out at the sun hanging low in the sky. “So I never bothered.”
Twilight waited, but neither said anything more. “So… will you go?” Derpy looked up quickly. “And sophomores can go, if they’re invited by a junior or senior.”
“I will,” Fluttershy answered, faster than Twilight had expected, “but what will your friends think?”
“You’re my friends, too,” Twilight said. “And I don’t think they’ll have a problem with it. Especially if they really are my friends.”
Derpy bit her lip and nodded. Why wouldn’t she say anything? Either way, Twilight trotted up and gave them both a hug. “Thank you.” And then she finally noticed—the shawl Fluttershy had on seemed to be a featureless black cloth from far away, but up close, complex stitching and different fabric textures in swirls and waves played over its surface. It held her, transfixed, as her eyes traced over each little nuance.
“Um…” Fluttershy said.
“Oh! Sorry.” Twilight released her from the hug-run-amok that had tightened into a bit of a death grip. “Your shawl is beautiful. Where’d you get it?”
Fluttershy curled her neck around against it and watched her hooves. “I made it.”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm,” Fluttershy said, nodding.
“How’d you come up with that? It’s really elaborate.” Twilight risked stepping closer again so she could have another look.
But Fluttershy didn’t back away. “Oh, I didn’t. I used a pattern from a book. I’m good at sewing, but not at designing.”
“That gives me an idea…”
Fluttershy’s eyes instantly widened, and she whipped her gaze back toward Twilight. “Oh, n-no! I-I said I couldn’t come up with patterns—”
“That’s okay. I know just who to ask,” Twilight replied with a huge grin.
Twilight peered through the open doorway to the gymnasium. The dance had started a good half hour ago, and only a trickle of ponies still stood in line to get in. And as each new couple entered, a spotlight tracked them along the faux garden path, lined with plastic flowers and flimsy trellises. Everypony’s moment in the sun, their chance to catch all eyes.
Before long, the line had emptied. Nopony else waiting. Twilight nodded at Fluttershy and Derpy, then walked in. Fluttershy never would have followed if she’d known what Twilight had planned, but it couldn’t be helped. Twilight would make it up to her later.
Nopony even asked her for her ticket. Everypony knew Twilight Sparkle. Everypony. And as soon as that spotlight found them, Twilight’s exquisite amethyst gown sparkled in the fierce light, sending purple speckles dancing on the walls. The hum of conversation died away, like crickets going silent as clouds gathered on the horizon.
Fluttershy had gone stock still, frozen in the midst of fleeing the light, but the onyx accents of her sable dress caught the radiance, soaked it up. Patches of yellow coat shone through the lacy fabric, stars in a velvet sky.
And on Twilight’s other side, Derpy stood in her powder blue top and flowing skirt. Polished yellow topazes traced out lines like feathers over a sheer gossamer overlay, and every tiny movement rippled them as if she were streaking through the air.
Their moment. Twilight only watched as the hush swelled, deepened, and a few gasps sounded. She started down the path, her companions sticking by her side. Derpy stumbled once, and Fluttershy trembled against Twilight, but still they followed.
Near the path’s end, Twilight’s friends looked on with faint smiles, but the nearer she got, the more they grew. Applejack even broke into a toothy grin. Rainbow Dash patted Pinkie Pie on the back, and Pinkie clutched her hooves to her chest, practically vibrating.
And the last one on the left, Rarity. She nodded. Even in the shadows, her eyes sparkled more than the brilliant spotlight. She mouthed something—too dark to catch it all, but one word, unmistakable: proud.
One last step down the path, and the light would extinguish. She and Fluttershy and Derpy would blend back in, meld with the crowd again. One last step. Twilight’s hoof lingered above the floor, unwilling to bring their moment to a close.
Twilight gazed up into the spotlight, like a sun, and the impossible brightness flooded her eyes, her face, her mind, took everything over. Nothing left, only the light, and Twilight standing alone in its soft touch. Cottony, billowing, sweet.
It faded. She could remember it as if it had taken hours, but too soon, it had gone, leaving her only in blackness. Nothing left, not even the light. Nothing left. Nothing.
Her spent body sank to the floor and succumbed to the warm touch of sleep.
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Well, at least that scenario ended on a positive note.
6981752 I agree, overall it's a terrible concept
7002853 Hate to say it, but I agree with this. After all Twilight has done, Celestia wouldn't subject her to a situation which could result in her losing her ability to practice the very magic she has used to protect Equestria on numerous occasions, especially after she has not only done that, but become an Alicorn and the Princess of Friendship, all for a little academic technically they and everybody else know she has earned many times.
It all just makes no sense.
7002883 the problem is by altering memories and abilities they seem to be testing character, which I really don't agree with
7002876
I don't think Celestia sees this as a risk at all, after all Twilight proved to the elements themselves she was worthy. Celestia knows Twilight will succeed, so to her it's not a risk at all. Heck if the board claims she did fail Celestia would just point out Twilight proved her worth already and she was just doing this as a formality and isn't about to LET them fail her student.
7003164 That is the only way in which I can see this making sense. The graduation is a paltry formality at this instance in Twilight's life and career, and she frankly doesn't need it.
None of the lessons presented thus far has not already been covered in Twilight's past exploits.
Even so, for springing this on her out of the blue, I feel Celestia deserves a piece of Twilight's mind.
This chapter was better.
You really captured the struggles and tensions of a high-school environment; it reminds me of the first couple of chapters from Worm, by Wildbow.
Trigonometry works better if one uses the 1 true CircleConstant Tau. Tau is circumference divided by radius.
Celestia must have a very good reason for running Twilight through this gauntlet. Twilight's character had already been proven in canon, and aside from her problems with self confidence and occasional lapses in common sense, she had passed with flying colors. I suspect that these "tests" are exercises to help with those problems, possibly as a step toward her understanding what it takes to be a leader.
I would die for Gothshy.