Celestia's School for Gifted Equines

by The Usurper

2. The Musical, Part II

Somehow, despite the hectic rush of problems and solutions the day had thrust upon him, Dream Catcher had not rested. Instead, when he returned to his room, he found himself idly studying the piece of yellow plastic he'd found that afternoon in the empty corridors.

He turned it up and down. It reminded him of the lens on a pair of spectacles. It was nearly transparent, as lenses were wont to be, and tinted slightly like some were. The tint was almost nonexistent in the centre, but further outward a ring of near-solid yellow enclosed the see-through middle and stretched all the way to the circumference. They were too curved to be spectacle lenses, though. Too curved and too thin and too flimsy.

It occurred to him that he had been contemplating this single object for hours. He had scheduled his time carefully. He was supposed to be unpacking what little he brought with him. But this mystery had captured his attention so fully that he had wasted away the entire afternoon on it. Outside the tiny window of his tiny room he could see the moon rising high into the darkened sky.

He sighed and climbed off the bed. It was irresponsible of him to derail his plans like he had, and he knew it. Only his curiosity compelled him to ignore the guilt. He set the plastic aside reluctantly and trotted over to his unopened suitcase.

He only just managed to input the combination on the lock when somepony knocked on his door.

He sighed again. Inefficiency lurked around every corner. He left his luggage to let the visitor in.

He opened the door. Lyra's grinning green face peeked in. "Hello! Is it too late for a writing session?"

"I would think so." Catcher wasn't sure if social grace demanded that he let her in. He stepped back from the halfway opened door to leave it up to her. Lyra swung it open the rest of the way and trotted in cheerfully, shutting the door behind her.

"Really?" she asked. "But night is the best time for inspiration. I do all my best work at three in the morning." She cantered to the bed and flopped unceremoniously onto it. She winced. "Geez, what did they put in this thing, rocks?"

"Not as far as I know." He imagined that that would be a terrible waste of rocks. "By the way, I believe there's some sort of curfew for the scholars. You may not be allowed to be here."

"They never enforce it. We're all good responsible ponies anyways." Lyra turned her head and noticed the yellow piece of plastic. "Hey, I didn't know you wore lenses."

His ears perked up. "So that is a lens after all?"

"Not sure what else it could be." She picked up the lens in her telekinetic grip and spun it around. "Yeah, it's obviously not yours. These aren't even powered. It's just colour-changing."

He frowned. "Colour-changing lenses? How does that work?"

She laughed. "Har har, very funny. I get it. 'Hurr durr, us mudponies are dumb as bricks, we don't know how contact lenses work, hurr...'" Then she noticed his blank stare, and she cringed heavily. "Oh horsefeathers. You actually don't know, do you?"

"Don't know what?" he asked.

"Agh." She facehooved so violently that Catcher momentarily wondered if she'd just given herself a concussion. "I'm an idiot. Sorry about the slur. I thought you were making a joke."

"It's fine," he said routinely. "But what don't I know?"

She floated the lens over to him. "So, this thing is a contact lens. You're supposed to have two of them, one for each eye. Some of them work like glasses, which is to say that when you put them in your eye - that's how you use them, by the way - they correct your vision."

He took the lens carefully and examined them again. They did look about the size of an iris. "I see," he mused.

"But this one is cosmetic," she explained. "It isn't powered. It just changes the colour of your eye."

He cocked his head to the side. "That sounds extremely unnecessary."

"S'why I don't use them." She shrugged. "So what, you just found them lying around?"

"I did." Catcher set the lens down carefully on his study table and sat down at its seat. "Outside the cafeteria, after the musical meeting."

"Huh." Lyra narrowed her eyes in thought. "So somepony was spying on us? Somepony with yellow eyes. I wonder..." She stopped. Rolling her eyes, she let out a huge groan and flopped back onto the bed. "Of course. Of course freakin' Ciara would be coming after Scar again."

"Ciara?" Catcher inquired.

"Yeah," she said. "Scar's archnemesis. They've been at each others' throats since they were foals. I dropped out of school three years ago to live with Bon in Ponyville, and even now they're still at it." She gave the ceiling a slow clap. "Bravo, Ciara and Scar. The two of you just can't grow up."

He felt like he was piecing together a puzzle that he didn't know the least thing about. "Why are they enemies?"

"I can't even remember. It was so long ago. They had a fight or something. And they've just been going on ever since." Lyra rolled herself off the bed and landed inelegantly on her two hind legs. "Vinyl will know more than me. She never dropped out. Frankly I'm more worried about Ciara sabotaging the musical."

"Is her hatred of Scarlet that severe?"

"If I remember right, pretty much." She wobbled for a few moments in her inequine posture before dropping back onto all fours. "They hate each other like two manticores fighting over territory. It's not gonna end until somepony dies."

"That does sound severe," Catcher agreed. He presumed that was hyperbole. Nonetheless, if this Ciara was so intent on interfering with his acquisition of CIIP hours, then it was necessary to investigate her further - if, for nothing else, to confirm the validity of Lyra's claims. "I should find Ciara to return this lens."

Lyra snorted. "Why bother? Let her come to you. I'd rather she confess to spying on us."

"We don't know that for certain," he reminded her.

"Well it sounds like her," she said crossly. "Look, I have nothing against her personally, but I really want this musical to be great and I don't want her to muck everything up because of some stupid feud."

"I'm sure we can find a peaceful resolution," Catcher insisted. "Feuds are built on nothing more than a perpetrated cycle of revenge. They exist only to fuel themselves. I'm sure Scarlet will understand if we explain the futility of it."

"Not everypony is logical like you, Catcher." Lyra sighed. "Of course the most unicorn of the bunch of us is the earth pony."

He almost decided to protest at that. But he held his tongue. Racial stereotypes were embedded in culture. It would have been fruitless and time-consuming to correct her. There was nothing unicorn about him. He simply was not a silly pony.

"I suppose," he said instead. "But an attempt is better than none at all."

"I guess so." She turned around and headed back for the door. "I'm gonna find her and have a chat. We can write tomorrow after lunch, okay? I'll bring Scar too. She can brief you on the character bios and we can plan out what we want to do then."

Catcher looked back out at the starscape beyond his window. "Will she be awake?"

"Probably. We do our best work at three in the morning." She opened the door and waved. "See ya later Catcher."

"Goodbye." He watched as she swung the door closed. By the time the door clicked shut, a plan had formed in his mind.

---

He had to forgo unpacking that night. There wasn't enough time. He slept as early as he could, got a full night's sleep, and woke up at the crack of dawn. He moved his luggage bag so that it was right in the middle of his room. Then he grabbed the contact lens, put on a pair of plain saddlebags, and slipped out the door. He trotted down the narrow common stairwell and out the front doors of the student hostel.

Normally, in the Vanhoover mornings, he would have woken up long before the sun was due to rise to get to school on time. This was his first luxury, he supposed: the hostel was only a five minute walk away from Celestia's School. Also, unlike Vanhoover, he knew from the brochure that the School's general office was open during working hours on every day except Sunday. He knew what kind of information they would be keeping. What information they would give away was a different story, but he was confident the office staff would be reasonable about it.

So he tried. He trotted up to the counter and explained his situation. He found a contact lens belonging to somepony at the school, he said, and he wanted to contact her about it. He needed her mailing address. And thus he came into possession of the home address of Grade 11 student Ciara Mardrey, index number 4 of Tutor Group 5.

He returned to his room and wrote two letters. One he sealed in an envelope and delivered to Ciara's mailbox. The other he pasted on the outside of his door. Then he strolled down to the school garden, sat beside the cool blue pond, and waited for lunchtime.

It didn't take very long. His preparations had been long and time-consuming. Noon rolled around quickly and passed him by. He finished off an alfalfa sandwich from the cafeteria (it was open on Saturdays, too). Eventually the clip-clop of hard hooves on stone cut through the tranquility of the garden, and he turned around to meet his first visitor.

"Good afternoon," he said.

"You're Dream Catcher?" Ciara asked curtly. She was a unicorn, of course, but that was the end of how much what he thought of her meshed with what she was. Perhaps Scarlet and Vinyl had played too heavily into the conception of his assumptions. Unlike either of them, or Lyra, Ciara's coat wasn't bright or perky. It was a dull charcoal grey. Her mane and tail were a dark shade of emerald, and combed in a messy fashion. A long bang hung over one of her eyes. The other open one was, as expected, yellow. Catcher's eyes flickered to her flank, but her cutie mark was hidden under a simple dress.

He met her gaze. "I am Dream Catcher. And you are Ciara Mardrey?"

"Yes. I'd like my lens back." Her wary eye gave him a once-over, probably evaluating what he might be trying to do. She was a suspicious person. He might benefit from that sort of cynicism.

"Of course." He opened his saddlebags, retrieved the piece of plastic, and hoofed it over to her. "I found it outside the cafeteria. Perhaps you could explain why it was there?"

She didn't answer straightaway. Instead she floated the lens carefully over to her, lowered her horn to it, and cast a spell on its surface. Then, with a flash, her lens disappeared. She swept the obscuring bang aside and fixed him with the irritated glare of two yellow eyes. "I was cleaning them in the bathroom. My teleportation spell didn't go right."

"And teleported your lens all the way to the cafeteria doors?" he inquired.

"Accidents happen." She spun around and strode toward the garden exit.

"Wait," Catcher called out. She stopped. "Perhaps you should wait."

"For what?"

"I had a few more questions," he replied. This was a suboptimal outcome. Of the two ponies he needed here, he was hoping she would not be the one to come first. He'd thought he'd be able to make do if she did, but he might have overestimated his skill of stalling. "I don't believe you've told me the whole story."

Ciara slightly narrowed her eyes. Her expression barely changed, but her stare was so intense that Catcher could practically feel the temperature drop. "I told you everything you need to—"

"Catcher!" Lyra's sing-song voice called out. Catcher smiled. Ciara froze. "We're here! Are you ready to do some..."

She rounded the corner, Scarlet in tow. She noticed Ciara and her face contorted in an instinctive cringe. Beside her, Scarlet had also noticed Ciara, and she was undergoing an incredible series of rapid-fire emotions: first, confusion, then shock, then anger.

"What are you doing here?" Scarlet demanded.

Ciara rolled her eyes. "Not your business, hornhead."

"You're a unicorn too, you dunce!" Scarlet snapped.

"My horn's on my head. Yours is in it." Ciara pushed past her and made for the exit. "I'm done here."

"Stop!" Catcher ordered. Ciara didn't turn around, but she did slow her pace. "I brought the two of you here so you can settle your differences amiably."

"Catcher, what are you doing?" Lyra asked, horrified.

"Fixing this problem," he replied. "Scarlet, Ciara, from what I know the two of you have disliked each other for years. Do you even remember why?"

"Yes," the both of them said simultaneously.

"Excellent." He nodded. "Then you two can talk about it and we can resolve this dispute."

"I'm not talking 'about' anything with her!" Scarlet jabbed her hoof into Ciara's side. "We have nothing to discuss. Nothing."

"The hypocrite's right for once," Ciara said. The barest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. Nopony else noticed. But Catcher did.

"Who are you calling a hypocrite, criminal?"

"She's playing you, Scarlet," Catcher said.

"Playing?" Ciara asked, the ghostly grin stretching out just a little further. "Who's playing? I'm not the one who lied to her friends about setting up a CIIP activity."

Silence. Scarlet opened her mouth to snap back a harsh reply, but the retort died on her lips. Lyra's eyes were darting between Catcher, Scarlet, and Ciara. Her mind was still processing the development. But Catcher was faster.

"Perhaps you'd like to clarify that," he said to Ciara.

She turned to face him. "The musical hasn't been approved for CIIP yet. You think you're going to get hours out of this? Think again."

"How dare you!" Scarlet hissed. Her face was almost as red as her hair. "You know as well as I do that this'll be approved. One hundred percent!"

"Do I?" she challenged. "Do you? Because I wouldn't want to count my eggs before they hatch." Her eyes hovered over to Catcher. "Especially for anypony who may have signed up just for the hours."

So she knew. Who else?

Catcher turned to Lyra. "Did you know?"

"Catcher," Lyra said weakly, "Scar didn't mean to—"

"I see," he said. So she knew too. "This is an unpleasant revelation."

"I'm sorry," Scarlet whispered. Her eyes were downcast. Perhaps she was afraid of how he would react. She did seem genuinely penitent for her other mistakes. It was plausible that she would be penitent for this one too. Still, he could not deny that he was disappointed, both in the lie and in her for telling it. But hating her was unnecessary. He was not a silly pony. He would not start a feud. He simply had to be sceptical of what she said in future.

"It's fine," he said. And then his trademark lie: "I understand."

Ciara raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

Scarlet's lips wavered. "You do?"

"I do," he lied again. "But I hope you will understand too, Scarlet, if I resign from the musical until it is confirmed as a CIIP activity."

Lyra gasped. "Catcher!"

"I'm sorry, Lyra." Catcher shook his head. "I need to be sure. Perhaps Scarlet and Ciara can work on resolving their difficulties in the meantime."

"Does the musical mean nothing else to you?" Scarlet asked hoarsely.

"When will you get it into your head, Scarlet?" Ciara questioned. She stamped her hoof firmly on the garden stone. "No one cares about your stupid charities. Not him, not me, not even you. Stop lying to yourself and admit you're as selfish as the rest of us. You're doing the musical for yourself."

"Nopony is selfish here but you, you mule," Scarlet hissed.

"Keep telling yourself that, hypocrite." She idly inspected the bottom of her hoof. "Well, my work here is done. Lyra, be a dear and bring her home before she explodes, please? Or don't. It might be interesting to see what the inside of her head looks like." She lowered her hoof back onto the ground and turned to leave. "Pleased to meet you, Dream Catcher."

"Likewise," he replied politely. He took one last look at Ciara's retreating figure. Then he gazed at Scarlet, ruined mascara leaking down the corners of her eyes, while Lyra stood by and comforted her. It didn't seem to be doing much good. Then again, he could never tell. He could only watch and guess. He never could understand. Maybe he was a silly pony after all.

He watched for a few more moments. Nothing changed. He watched for a little while longer. Then he turned around and walked away.

---

It was time to unpack. He no longer had any excuse to delay. But something, an inexplicable feeling in his chest, kept Dream Catcher from getting up from his bed and tending to his schedule.

Perhaps it was the understanding. He had always been able to understand anything he set his mind to. Math, science, languages, humanities, it was all the same. Theories and concepts and skills. He could understand those. But ponies? They didn't come packaged in a textbook. They couldn't be taught in school. They were impossible to understand.

It never mattered to him before. But it mattered now. He had been tricked twice already, once by the School and once by Scarlet. His lack of what his brother might have called 'street wisdom' was biting him in the proverbial butt. It was a vulnerability that couldn't be resolved. Maybe that was what the feeling was. Or maybe it was...

No. It couldn't be anger or irritation or a general feeling of betrayal. They were inefficiencies. He had learnt to deal with them a long time ago. They didn't trouble him anymore. But then...

A knock. In the past few days, he surmised, he had been visited more times than he would normally be in a year. Vanhoover was no Canterlot. Things were so different here. He got up to answer it.

He opened the door. Behind it were Vinyl and Octavia. The former wore a sheepish grin. The latter's expression was neutral, save for a remorseful droop at the tips of her mouth.

"Heya," Vinyl said. "I heard about what happened. Lyra told me."

"Did you know about the non-CIIP state of the musical as well?" he asked.

"Yes." Octavia bowed her head low. "We're sorry."

"It's fine. I understand." He held the door wide open and let them in. "Take a seat."

"Thanks." Vinyl walked over to and sat down on his bed. Octavia hovered around her but never actually sat down. They looked at each other quietly. "Look, dude," Vinyl began hesitantly, "I need to ask: are you actually gonna leave the musical?"

"Only temporarily, I assure you," he answered. "I will rejoin once CIIP confirmation comes through."

"So, you aren't like angry at Scar or anything?" Vinyl asked.

"I believe not," he said honestly. "Though I am not particularly in tune with my emotions, so it can be difficult to tell."

Octavia nodded. "That is something we've noticed. We were afraid that you were bottling your feelings up. I can tell you - through experience - that that isn't healthy."

"I'm fine. I really am," he said. "Although... I am a little curious about Scarlet. Specifically why she chose to lie to me."

Vinyl and Octavia exchanged knowing looks. Vinyl sighed. "It's a long story. Basically we were desperate for writers. We tried asking last year, but nopony volunteered. Everypony who wanted in on the musical wanted an acting role. And everypony else had their own CIIP to worry about. So this year she lied a little, said it was CIIP to attract the new students."

"How many volunteers did she get?" he asked.

"Well." Vinyl smiled wanly. "You."

"So... it didn't work then."

"Not really, no. And..." She averted her gaze towards the floor. "Well, it was kinda my fault. That she lied in the first place, I mean. I convinced her to do it. She really didn't want to. She hates lying. But I sorta guilt-tripped her with the charity. Said we needed to get this off the ground if we were going to make enough for them." She took her head in her hooves and started banging it against the nearest wall. "Ugh. Stupid, stupid Scratch."

"Vinyl!" Octavia grabbed her shoulders and forced her away from the wall. "No. This is not your fault. I gave you the idea."

"And I made it happen," she retorted.

"Wait," Catcher said. The pieces were falling into place. He was beginning to understand. "You guilt-tripped her with the mention of the charity?"

"Yeah." Vinyl gently nudged Octavia away and turned back to him. "She would've given up the whole musical, y'know. Even though it was her passion. But the charity stopped her." She sighed. "I wanted the musical more, I guess. She's the best of all of us. A real Celestian. She really wants to do the right thing."

But what was the right thing? he mused. Who defined what the right thing was? Could she? Could he? Could anypony? Everypony had their causes, their personal crusades to fight. Some adhered more to conventional morality than others. But Catcher was not one to debate right or wrong. He was concerned with efficiency. Everypony did what they had to to win their crusades. He did. Scarlet did. Was that something he could fault her for? Conventional morality dictated that he could. But conventional morality mattered little to him.

Perhaps that meant that he could easily have done what Scarlet did. That made him uneasy. The discomfort fluttered around in his chest, sprouting doubt and more discomfort. That was what that feeling was.

"I would like to talk to Scarlet," he said suddenly. His two guests reacted with surprise. They had not been privy to his thought processes. "Do you know she lives?"

"Uh, sure." Vinyl turned to Octavia. "Right?"

"21st Mane Street," Octavia supplied. "But why did you want to know?"

He committed that address to memory. "Thank you. I just have some questions to ask."

By tonight, he resolved, he would understand everything.

Comments

[devas]

Wow, I'm surprised this story hasn't got any upvotes or downvotes yet.

Feels very Dream Catcher-ish.

[BellChime]

7297978
I think it's pretty good. And I just upvoted.