It's The End Of The World As We Know It

by Samey90

15. Å Skrü Løøse

While planning Indigo’s birthday, Sunny Flare didn’t fail to notice an important detail that could easily thwart their plans. October 10th was most definitely on Tuesday, which, given that everyone would have to go to school on the next day, would make their sleepover in the furniture store much shorter and less awesome. However, after a brief discussion with Indigo and Lemon, they decided to move the sleepover to Friday.

It didn’t mean that Indigo didn’t celebrate anyway. After school, she jumped on her motorbike and decided to ride to Bulk. She shuddered slightly, riding down the street; it seemed to her that Summer was just a few days ago, but chilly wind and falling leaves meant the motorbike season would be over soon.

After a while of travelling across the forest, she parked the motorbike in front of the house and looked around. She noticed Ruby resting herself against a pile of wood and smoking a cigarette with a blank expression on her face.

“Don’t fall asleep, or this thing will burn your mouth,” Indigo said.

Ruby blinked and raised her head to look at her. “At night, I work at the supermarket, putting stuff on the shelves,” she muttered. “Sleep is for rich shits like you.”

“Definitely,” Indigo replied. “Where can I find Bulk?”

“In the garage.” Ruby pointed at the large door on the left side of the house and yawned.

“Thanks.” Indigo walked to the garage and knocked on the door. She heard the sound of some machinery and the door slowly moved upwards, revealing the inside of the place.

It was a rather large workshop. Carpentry, machine, and metalworking tools were hanging from the walls or were hidden in red chests made of sheet metal. There was a circular saw there, as well as three cars in various stages of disrepair, standing by the table with vices of various sizes. Car parts and pieces of planks were scattered everywhere. The cherry on the top was a poster on the wall, depicting a pin-up model in a revealing lingerie.

In the middle of the garage, Bulk was standing next to some wooden framework, holding an angle grinder in his hands.

“Hello,” Indigo said. Her eyes narrowed when she looked at the poster. “Should I feel jealous?”

“My brother put it here.” Bulk blushed. “He says no workshop is complete without one.”

Indigo smirked. “True. I have a photo of a girl wearing only an aviator jacket in my workshop. I guess it grows on the wall naturally after you buy enough power tools.”

Bulk chuckled and walked to Indigo to kiss her. “Happy birthday, by the way. How do you feel as an adult?”

“The same as yesterday.” Indigo shrugged and looked at the wooden framework. “What’s that?”

“Seems that it’s gonna be a boat,” Bulk replied. “I mean, I just started to build it one day, and it looks a bit like a boat, so I decided to make it a boat.”

“Works for me.” Indigo raised her eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure that one day Sunny Flare will trick me into building a power armour that way.”

“Power armour? That’d be awesome!” Bulk exclaimed.

“Not when Sunny has it. It’s one of my worst fears, along with Sugarcoat learning magic.” Indigo looked at the poster again. “I should definitely get such lingerie for our sleepover…”

Bulk’s jaw dropped. “Err… I mean... I thought we’d be, umm… normally dressed. With your friends there and everything.”

“Define ‘normally’,” Indigo replied. “Sunny already said that she’s gonna wear some weird Japanese word that apparently translates to ‘kangaroo onesie’.”

“Kigurumi?” Bulk asked. “Featherweight watches a lot of anime and pisses people off with his Japanese.”

“Ditto for Sunny.” Indigo sat on the table, waving her legs. “She even found some dude she can talk to, but he never leaves his room, apparently.”

Bulk nodded. “Strange, though it seems to be a norm in your school. A propos, how is Sour Sweet? Sandalwood told me that she ate someone’s brain in the park, but I have a feeling that he may be exaggerating.”

“Yeah, it was actually not in the park.” Indigo shrugged.

Bulk raised his eyebrows, looking at her.

Indigo rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on! She didn’t kill anyone. She had some kind of an attack, I think. Apparently, she regressed mentally to the time when she was six, but she’s as reliable as Sandalwood when it comes to talking about herself.” She sighed. “At least she had enough sense to call her doctor before freaking out completely.”

“That sucks,” Bulk said. “And what will happen to her now?”

“She already got better,” Indigo replied. “And, of course, Lemon immediately ran to her and doesn’t want to leave her, like, ever.”

Bulk’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t she say that Sour hit her?”

Indigo nodded. “Well, now she feels guilty because she started flirting with Ringo to piss her off. And that’s despite everyone telling her to stay as far from Sour as possible.”

Bulk chuckled. “Flash says every girl that dated Ringo felt guilty later. But I guess he’s jealous.”

“Well, if I were more jaded, I’d say that this was exactly what Sour was aiming for,” Indigo said. “But enough about this.”

“Yeah, lingerie was much more interesting.” Bulk chuckled.

“Hey!” Indigo punched Bulk in the arm and rubbed her fist, wincing. “Don’t you even think about it!”

“Well, your school uniform is fine too…”

Indigo’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Bulk blushed, backpedalling. “Umm… I mean… Well, it’s your birthday… But if you don’t like the idea…”

“Of what, sex?” Indigo asked, feeling as if steam were to come out of her ears. She tried to laugh, but it was barely a snort. “Well, I’m not saying I’m not open to this idea…” she said slowly. “But, as a matter of fact, I’m most definitely not sure how not to make that, umm… awkward, I guess.”

“Well, I think first times are always awkward.” Bulk shrugged. “Sandalwood told me–”

“I’m not sure if I want to know that,” Indigo muttered. “I guess I’m not ready yet. Especially not during a sleepover, with audience and stuff.”

“No problem.” Bulk sighed. “Guess that’s not the best place, with Ruby creeping around and Featherweight and my parents being here…”

“Not here, either. And it’s not really that,” Indigo replied. “I guess if we were spontaneous… But once we brought that up… The spark’s gone, I’d say.”

“So, next time, less talking?” Bulk smirked and hugged Indigo.

“Yeah. And not on this Friday, unless you enjoy an audience.” Indigo shook her head.

“Most definitely not.”

Indigo looked at the wooden framework. “Yeah… Until then, maybe I’ll help you with the boat?”

---

A rat ran through a dark room, stopping in the corner and standing on hind legs. Its whiskers moved as it scanned the environment around it. Darkness wasn’t an issue – the rat was blind since an early age, when an inborn genetic defect began to take hold. Nevertheless, the rat could sense that its Mistress was sitting in the middle of a circle drawn on the floor with red paint, her hands spread and her muscles tense.

The rat could hear Mistress’ muffled chant, as well as the rustling of paper. The air smelled faintly of dust, incense, and leather, mixed with a faint trace of blood. It didn’t bother the rat in the slightest; Mistress often had strange ideas like that.

“Rosalind,” Sugarcoat muttered, aiming her hand at the rat, her fingers spread. “According to this magic book I bought from some permanently stoned Sandalwood’s friend, you should be now floating in the air. Either magic doesn’t work on rats, or that was the worst spent ten bucks in my life. Hope that friggin’ hippie chokes on her vomit in some dirty toilet.”

Rosalind dropped on all four and ran under the desk. Sugarcoat closed the book and threw the vial with blood into the trash can.

“That’s hopeless,” she muttered, standing up and rubbing her legs. “I will never learn magic.”

She waved her hand and grabbed a bottle of water from her desk. After taking a sip, she winced. “Why is this water so cold?”

She threw the bottle on the floor. Rosalind watched as the remains of water on the bottom turned into ice which, however, soon started to melt.

Sugarcoat walked across the room to turn on the light when she heard an upbeat disco tune. She sighed and opened her bag, looking for her phone.

“Indigo?” she asked after finding it. “What do you want?”

“Well, Bulk and I were building a boat…”

Sugarcoat turned the light on and sat on her bed. “That’s how they call it nowadays?” she asked.

“No, of course not!” Indigo exclaimed. “But about that… Umm… Well, we brought that up and–”

“Good,” Sugarcoat said. “About time, I’d say.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” Indigo sighed.

Sugarcoat furrowed her eyebrows and lay down on her bed. “Do what, exactly? I always thought you and your hands got to know each other a while ago. Also, why are you calling me, of all the people?”

“Sour Sweet is battling her inner demons, Lemon’s experiences are probably not compatible, and I’d rather not talk to Sunny about it,” Indigo replied. “So I thought that since you and Sandalwood do that all the time…”

Sugarcoat groaned. “Geez, Indy, sometimes feeding rats is just feeding rats, you know? Also, definitely not all the time. I keep telling Sandalwood that a true sailor is not afraid of the Red Sea, but he seems a bit too squeamish for that…”

Indigo made a gagging sound. “You’re giving me mental images I didn’t need…”

“Hey, you called me first,” Sugarcoat said. “What do you want to know? For the technical stuff, call Sunny Flare. If half of the rumours are true, you ate less fries in your life than she ate–”

“Mental images again,” Indigo muttered. “I just don’t know how to, umm… start.”

“Ah, this.” Sugarcoat nodded. “Now, how to explain that for your simple mind to understand…”

“Hey!” Indigo exclaimed.

“Okay, then.” Sugarcoat took a deep breath. “It’s like soccer. First you find a good pitch. A big bed, roses, incense, candles, whatever makes you comfortable. Second, research on the opponent’s team. Who’s the best striker, which foot the winger prefers to use, whether the goalkeeper chooses their right or left during the penalty… Guess you know that already?”

“More or less,” Indigo replied.

“Good. Third, don’t overdo it. We did and Canterlot High screwed us over. Stick to simple tactics you’re comfortable with, though catenaccio is probably not the best choice. The time of tiki-taka will come later.”

“So basically, collapsing defences, quick counterattack, and dynamic penetration of opponent’s defense using technique and some sick ball skills?”

Sugarcoat barely stifled a chuckle. “Yeah… For tips on penetration, I can send you some educational videos. As for defences, remember about them. You want to score, but with consequences of an own goal you’ll have to deal for the next eighteen years.”

“I know!” Indigo exclaimed. “Don’t think I’m dumb.”

“I don’t have to think that,” Sugarcoat muttered. “And remember, only go into action when the time is right. Fouls may end with a career-ending injury. Got it?”

“I guess…”

“Good.” Sugarcoat smiled. “And, Indigo…”

“Yes?”

“Happy birthday.”

---

Drama Letter looked at the cash register and sighed. She’d stopped working as a barista when the school year started, but her shoestring budget soon forced her into another job, this time involving selling furniture.

She had no idea why so many teenagers, including guys from her school, decided to visit her store on a Friday afternoon, but it didn’t occupy her mind for long. Instead, her thoughts drifted to a black Trans Am belonging to her friend Sophisticata, who’d come to her after closing the store and drive her to her place to spend a crazy night acting their favourite scenes from Shakespeare’s plays.

Finally, the time came for her to give back the cash drawer, count the money with her manager, and go home. The lights went out, leaving only several lamps to scatter the darkness engulfing the displays and showrooms. The whole place went silent, aside from the sounds of various machinery hidden deep inside the building.

Suddenly, the silence was interrupted by the sound of opening doors. Lemon Zest and Sour Sweet walked out of the two closets and looked at each other.

“Are you okay?” Lemon asked. “I just discovered that I’m claustrophobic.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Sour Sweet walked to Lemon and embraced her. “Though I was thinking that we could as well take one of those closets home. I need a place to hide from my sister, sometimes…”

“You’d better just buy it,” Lemon replied. “Or else they’d go to the police and say that they were… wardrobbed.”

Sour Sweet groaned. Before she could say something, Muffins crawled from under the bed.

“I guess your friends didn’t like that pun,” she said. “But don’t worry, I can do bedder.”

“I swear, I’ll punch your eye straight…” Sour Sweet muttered. After a second, she searched her pockets and fished out a bottle of pills.

“Where’s Flash? Nothing ever mattress for this dude…” Muffins looked under the bed and pulled Flash out. “What’s going on?”

“I fell asleep, okay?” Flash sighed. “Where’s the rest?”

“I was just going to ask the same thing,” Sandalwood walked into the showroom with Sugarcoat and Sunny Flare, dressed in her kangaroo onesie. “We hid between sofas. Guess that makes us sofa king-funny.”

Sugarcoat shook her head. “You could as well hide among cabinet parts. No one would notice one more knob. Also, I don’t think Sunny should be wearing things she’d bought here. Someone may think she stole it.”

“Don’t worry, I have a receipt.” Sunny Flare pulled the phone out of the pouch of her onesie and took a selfie with Muffins and Sour Sweet, the latter taken entirely by surprise. “Squad goals!”

“Speaking of squad, where are Bulk and Indigo?” Flash asked.

“Looking for a perfect football pitch,” Sugarcoat muttered.

They heard a loud thud somewhere close to them. Several more noises soon followed, as if something heavy was dragged on the floor.

“Maybe it’s ghosts?” Lemon Zest asked.

“Yeah. A haunted chaise longue.” Sunny Flare produced a bottle of whisky from the pouch. “Luckily, I can contact that thing spiritually…”

“Some spirits will be involved,” Flash muttered, sitting on the floor by the bed.

“Alcohol? That’s uncultured.” Sandalwood started to search his pockets.

“No weed,” Sugarcoat said. “This place may have no cameras, but it probably has smoke detectors. Also, I don’t want anyone to get high. Most certainly not with Sour Sweet around.”

“What?” Sour Sweet growled.

“You just took your pills and you’re not exactly stable, as of late,” Sugarcoat replied. “If you got stoned, it’d end with a trip to ER. For you or one of us.”

“What?” Sour Sweet hugged Lemon Zest. “I’d never hurt any of you…”

Before Lemon had time to protest, Indigo and Bulk walked into the showroom.

“We’re sorry,” Indigo muttered. “Bulk got stuck in some tight place and I couldn’t get him out.”

Sunny chuckled, which soon evolved into a fit of snorting laughter.

“I meant that he hid inside of a cupboard,” Indigo muttered. Even in the dim emergency light it could be seen that she was blushing.

“Yeah, sure,” Sandalwood muttered.

They sat in a circle in the middle of the showroom. Sunny opened the bottle and passed it to Indigo, who politely refused. Sunny shrugged and took a large sip herself, shaking and wincing before giving the bottle to Sandalwood.

“So, how is everybody?” Lemon asked. “I mean, I know, more or less, because I know all of you.” She looked at Muffins. “Except of you. You’re a goalkeeper, that’s all I know.”

“Well, I also play a musical saw,” Muffins replied.

“Circular saw?” Indigo asked. “Industrial metal?”

“No, an actual musical saw. New age, acoustic ambient, noise. We have a band with Raspberry Fluff who plays a triangle, and Blueberry Pie, who plays a cowbell.”

Lemon grinned “Do you need more–”

“No.” Muffins’ eyes focused on Lemon. “Don’t say that around Blueberry or else you may get the cowbell up your bum. Wider end first.”

“Kinky,” Sour Sweet muttered. “Although it may have sharp edges… What a stupid death would that be.”

“Can we not mention death?” Lemon looked at Indigo. “It’s her birthday, after all.” She took the bottle from Sugarcoat’s hands and took a swig.

“One year closer…” Sugarcoat muttered.

“Shut up, Sugarcoat!” Indigo, Sour Sweet, and Bulk said in unison.

“If I had a dollar for every time you say that…” Sugarcoat shook her head. “I could buy Sunny’s house, I guess.”

“Leave my house alone.” Sunny hiccuped. It was the second or third time the bottle reached her and it seemed that she wanted to make up for Sour Sweet and Indigo, who weren’t drinking.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to live there anyway,” Sugarcoat said and turned to the rest. “I’m not sure about this place, but her house is haunted, I’m sure. Guess when someone has a house that big, the ghost is the next thing they hire after a butler.”

“Which one is that?” Flash asked. “Also, is the butler a vampire?”

“A big-ass mansion in the suburbs,” Indigo replied. “You’d know it if you saw it.”

“Please.” Sunny smiled. “We’re so loaded we can even pay our ghosts to shut up. And it’s useful since dad probably pissed off a lot of his ancestors when he married mom.”

“Even more so when they made a future alcoholic,” Indigo muttered.

Sunny shrugged. “Also, we don’t have a butler anymore. He quit to fulfill a lifelong dream of becoming a sniper.”

Bulk scratched his head. “To think about it… How come you all are friends? You keep being rude to each other.”

Sandalwood furrowed his eyebrows. “Why does no one ask about that when you guys are rude to me?”

“Because nobody likes you,” Flash muttered. “Or rather, as Muffins put it, we like to not like you.”

“Well, she’s the only person who likes you, so I guess you know what you’re saying.” Sandalwood turned to Indigo. “But I’d like to know that story. How did you all become friends?”

“That’s simple,” Sour Sweet replied. “In the first grade, Sugarcoat was teasing Lemon and that’s why she has a glass eye now.”

“She does?” Bulk asked.

“Which one? Or wait, I’ll check!” Muffins walked to Sugarcoat and smacked her in the back of the head. “Hey, none of them fell out!”

“You’re in for a long, painful death,” Sugarcoat muttered through gritted teeth. “Sour Sweet would be too, but that’d be a mercy for her…”

“Last time I checked, Sugarcoat had both eyes,” Indigo said. “Sour Sweet sometimes says strange stuff since she’s slightly sick.”

Muffins raised her eyebrows. “Try to say that while drunk.”

“Shut up, everyone,” Sugarcoat whispered. “Or we’ll all get caught.”

“No one will notice us on a Friday night,” Indigo replied. “Too loud in general.”

“Yeah,” Lemon said. “We can even check which bed is the bounciest and no one will hear.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Sandalwood smiled, embracing Sugarcoat who made a face like an annoyed cat.

“Jumping on beds, of course!” Lemon exclaimed.

Flash chuckled. “Well, to think about it, one dude broke into the youth centre with his girlfriend to have sex on the pool table…”

“Snooker table, maybe,” Sugarcoat said. “Pool table is too small.”

“He said it was a pool table,” Flash replied. “Though I probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Also, there’s no such thing as ‘too small’...” Sandalwood muttered.

Sugarcoat nodded. “You know that best…”

“What is snooker?” Muffins asked.

“Pool for nerds,” Sugarcoat replied. “With fifteen red balls and six coloured ones.”

“I know a thing or two about balls…” Sandalwood whispered.

Bulk raised his eyebrows. “So, in snooker, red isn’t a colour?”

“No.”

“Better red balls than blue balls,” Sandalwood muttered. “Also, I’d really like to know how you all met each other. After all, everyone knows that Flash and Bulk became my friends because girls liked me and they wanted to know why.”

“It later turned out they were all vegans,” Bulk muttered.

Suddenly, they heard a sound as if a pig had a fit of coughing caused by advanced tuberculosis. They looked around, but it soon turned out that it was Sunny Flare who, seeing that no one wanted to drink whisky, decided to get to know the bottle better. The sound was apparently laughter, though one couldn’t be sure.

“Okay, you wanna hear a story?” Sunny asked. “You’ll get one.”

“Leave some whisky for us,” Bulk said. “Also, I don’t feel like dragging you home, putting you at the doorstep, ringing the bell, and running away.”

“This happened before,” Sour Sweet muttered. “Lemon tripped and Sunny’s mom caught us. Luckily that old whore is an alcoholic too, so it wasn’t that bad.”

“Eat shit, Sour Sweet,” Sunny said. “Anyway, a long time ago in Crystal Prep, five girls met. One of them had no friends because of being a smug bitch, the other’s sister kept stealing cars and getting into trouble, mother of the third one just got sick, and the fourth has cat food instead of a brain.” She looked at Sour Sweet and smirked. “Oh, and there was me. I’m awesome.”

“Your mom drinks and your dad spends five days a year at home,” Sour Sweet replied. “Also, before you say some shit about our problems causing us to meet, I’d like to remind you that what brought us together was making Twilight Sparkle’s life miserable.”

“Remember how she squealed when we put her head in the toilet?” Indigo’s smile faltered when she looked at Bulk. “Hey, I’m not saying I’m proud of that!”

“That sounded like you were,” Bulk replied.

Indigo rolled her eyes. “Listen, I kinda enjoyed it when I was a kid, okay? Kids are cruel, especially in Crystal Prep. But that doesn’t mean I’d do that to Twilight again. I’m wiser than that.”

“You’re not,” Sugarcoat muttered. “You’re still the good, old, impulsive Indigo.”

Indigo gritted her teeth. “Do you want to go back to the hospital?”

“You’re just proving my point, you know.”

Indigo sighed, crossing her arms. “Oh yeah. Is it some new tradition? Birthday roast?”

“Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries!” Muffins exclaimed.

Sandalwood shook his head. “Girl, what did we tell you about quoting this movie? And remember that the same applies to The Princess Bride, Pulp Fiction, or any of the Star Wars movies.”

“You didn’t even watch them,” Flash said.

Sandalwood smirked. “I did. All five of them.”

Flash groaned and shook his head.

“Also, roasting me isn’t fun,” Indigo said. “Try that on Sour Sweet. The winner gets to be fed their own liver.”

Sunny Flare shook her head, producing another bottle of whisky from the pouch of her onesie. “What happened to the old tradition of telling ghost stories during sleepovers?”

“The drunk kangaroo is right,” Muffins said. “That’s much more fun than roasting people!”

“Okay then…” Sunny Flare passed the bottle to Muffins. “One time I was going back from a party. I sneaked to my house in the middle of the night and went to the bathroom.” Her eyes widened. “I turned to the mirror and saw some horrible face in there!”

“Was that you after a party?” Sugarcoat asked.

Sunny’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

“I’ve been to that party,” Sugarcoat replied. “The look on your face was partially an effect of my reaction to you trying bath salts.”

Sandalwood turned to Flash. “Wanna bet that they’ll eventually try to beat the crap out of each other?”

“Sure,” Flash muttered.

“Well, let’s see if you can tell a better story.” Sunny sent Sugarcoat a nasty glare.

“I’m bad at that,” Sugarcoat replied. “What scares me wouldn’t be comprehensible to such simpleton as you.” She turned to Lemon Zest. “The question is, what scares you?”

Lemon Zest gulped. “Well, I once heard of a girl, who went on vacation to the countryside. There was an old man living there, in a small cottage surrounded by a garden full of the strangest of plants.”

“I’m calling it now,” Bulk said. “The old guy is gonna kill her and bury her in the garden.”

Lemon ignored him. “One day, the girl and the old man met and he asked her to visit his garden and watch all those plants. Having nothing better to do, the girl did. As she was wandering through the garden, full of exotic plants, the old man told her to avoid one of them, an entanglement of thick vines, hidden in the darkest corner, between the trees.

“The girl nodded and continued her walk. Eventually, she felt tired and sat down in the corner of the garden, under the tree. Suddenly, she felt something crawling up her leg. She looked down and saw a thick, green vine, wrapped around her ankle. She thrashed, but another vine grabbed her other leg. Soon, she was completely entangled and one of the vines reached under her skirt–”

“Lemon, are you sure it’s, you know, a ghost story?” Indigo asked.

“No.” Lemon blushed. “On a second thought, no, it’s not.”

“But of course.” Sour Sweet sighed. “Your ghost stories are all lame. Do you know what’s scary?” Her pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “Life. When you can’t even trust yourself because sometimes your mind decides to take a day off and then you wake up, tired, and learn that you did something you’ll regret forever…” She looked at Lemon. “Life when you can’t trust anyone because you know they’ll betray you once they learn about your true nature… And whatever you do, no matter how nice you act, they can always see the dark depths of your mind, silently judging you…”

“So…” Muffins scratched her head. “Do you want a muffin?”

“Yes, please,” Sour Sweet replied quickly. Muffins opened her backpack, producing a box full of baked goods.

“No sympathy from me,” Sunny muttered. “Sorry, Sour, but I think, like, you’ve brought that upon yourself. I don’t recall you taking your meds as of late. And you could at least stop calling my mother a whore.”

“Shut up,” Sugarcoat hissed. “Do you want to start a shitstorm? Because that’s how you do that.”

“I won’t shut up,” Sunny said. “You know, Sour, if you really loved Lemon, you’d at least try to change for her, instead of treating her as your personal punching bag, or body pillow, or whatever she is for you right now.”

Indigo stood up, looking at Sour Sweet and Lemon Zest unsurely. Then she turned her head to Sunny Flare. “Do you want to take a walk? I’d like to see how this store looks like when it’s empty…”

“What?” Sunny raised her eyebrows.

“You want to take a walk,” Indigo muttered, grabbing Sunny’s arm and lifting her from the ground. “We’ll be right back.”

They walked to another showroom, full of kitchen furniture. Indigo looked around and rested against the table. “What was that?” she asked.

“I’m saying what I think,” Sunny said. “If you don’t agree–”

“I agree,” Indigo replied. “But there are better times to tell that to Sour than now. And here. If she freaks out, no one knows we’re here, get it? And we’re here illegally. Do you want to get arrested?”

Sunny shrugged. “As if.”

“That’s why I don’t drink,” Indigo muttered.

“Getting on your high horse now?” Sunny asked. “Oh, please… Like you’re so much better because you don’t drink, huh? You’re pretty dumb even without that…”

Indigo growled and jammed her fist in Sunny’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Sunny took a few steps back, dropped on a chair and fell on the floor with it. She rolled off of it and stayed on the floor, crying and clutching to her stomach.

“Indigo? What’s going on?”

Panting, Indigo turned back to see Bulk. He was staring at her and at Sunny, who tried to catch a breath, resulting in a mix of wheezing and weeping.

Indigo smiled, backpedalling slightly. “We were, just, umm…”

“You punched her?” Bulk shook his head.

“No, of course not!” Indigo looked at Sunny and back at Bulk. His frown made her shudder. “Okay, I did! But she deserved it.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Bulk muttered. “Somehow, everyone you beat deserves it.”

“Oh, come on!” Indigo exclaimed. “I only beat Norman, and he did deserve it.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “And your cousin.”

“And who else before we met?” Bulk asked. “Twilight? Sugarcoat?”

“Sugarcoat deserves everything by default,” Indigo replied.

“No one does,” Bulk said. “How about Lemon? Sour would say she deserves getting beaten too, maybe.”

“Don’t compare that!” Indigo exclaimed. “Lemon is… different. You don’t touch Lemon. That’d be, dunno, like clubbing baby seals or something.”

“Funny that it’s the same we think about Twilight in Canterlot High…”

“Damn you!” Indigo exclaimed. “You’ll never give me a break about that, right?” She turned back to storm off the showroom, but she saw Sunny Flare standing by the table and checking something on her wrist device. “What are you still doing here?” Indigo asked. “Enjoying the drama?”

Sunny gave a snort. “Drama? Please. When you knocked down that chair, you turned on some kind of a silent alarm. I tuned in to the police channel and I’m now listening to some guys, angry because they had to leave the warm station and come to us.” She smirked. “Drama. I like the sound of that.”

Indigo rolled her eyes. “Shut up and run, moron!”

They ran through the showrooms. Indigo quickly lost track of where she was and where her friends were; she tried to warn them by shouting and hoping that they’d hear her. From the echo of quick steps, she learned that she succeeded.

It still didn’t help her situation. When she stopped to look around, she found herself alone, in a showroom that was unknown to her. Sure, from what she could see in the dim emergency light, it was full of closets, shelves, and comfortably-looking beds, but she was in no mood for sleeping. Especially since she could hear a faint echo of someone yelling through a megaphone far away from her.

“Shit,” Indigo muttered. “Think, Indigo… Or else someone’s gonna pull your ass from under that bed and put it behind bars.”

Suddenly, the wall on her right shook. Indigo looked at it unsurely, listening to scratches and quiet whispers.

“There’s something heavy behind it… What if we knock it over? Or break a mirror?”

“Oh, come on!”

Indigo heard a thud and saw that someone punched a hole through the thin wall. The piece of drywall fell apart, revealing Muffins and Lemon Zest, who ran into the showroom.

“Where are we?” Muffins asked.

“No idea,” Indigo replied.

“How do we get out?” Lemon looked around. “Or do we hide under the bed?”

Indigo sighed. “I don’t know. And hiding under the bed is not the best idea.”

“They’re not gonna look under every bed.” Lemon looked at Muffins, who was checking out the shelves and looking at herself in the mirrors.

“But if they find someone under one bed, they’re gonna check all the other ones, just in case,” Indigo replied. “At least I’d do that.”

“You have too much time on your hands,” Lemon muttered. “Muffins, what are you doing?”

Muffins stopped pushing the shelf aside. “There’s a door behind it.” She pointed at the door labelled “Staff only”.

“We’re not staff,” Lemon said.

“Then you can stay here and push the shelf back in place while Muffins and I hide here.” Indigo walked to the door and grabbed the handle.

The door opened, revealing a narrow corridor. There was a smoke detector in there; it seemed that someone had permanently disabled it with a hammer. The floor was littered with cigarette butts and empty cans of various beverages. One flickering light bulb was the only source of light. However, it was enough for Indigo to notice a massive metal door on the other side of the corridor.

“Let me guess,” she muttered. “It’s not open.”

“It’s emergency exit,” Muffins said. “According to the guidelines, it opens outwards and has a crash bar, allowing for a quick opening in case of fire or other emergency, which is pretty sensible, given the amount of wood in the building. My mother is a workplace safety specialist, you know.”

“Okay then.” Indigo walked to the door and pushed the crash bar. Indeed, the door opened easily, allowing them to walk out to the empty car park.

Lemon shuddered. “It’s cold in here,” she said. “Where’s the rest?”

“Probably hiding inside.” Indigo looked behind the corner of the building and quickly hid back. “One police car. No one’s there.”

“Do you think they left the keys?” Lemon asked.

Indigo raised her eyebrows. “No, Lemon. We’re not stealing a police car.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s not a computer game. They’d scrape us from the street,” Indigo replied.

“So, are we waiting here to get caught?” Muffins asked.

Indigo shook her head. “Nah, we’ll run across the car park and then walk like we were never there.”

She looked at Muffins and Lemon and counted to three. They rushed forward, their steps echoing across the empty square. Indigo looked at the buildings on the other side of the road. The dark nook between them looked like an ideal destination. No one would find them there and even if they did, the could always pretend that they were coming back from some party.

“Hey! Over there!” someone behind them shouted.

Indigo lowered her head, shuddering. They’ll shoot us, she thought. They’ll shoot me and last thing I did was arguing with Bulk…

No shot came. They reached the other side of the street and disappeared in the nook.

“Someone is running after us.” Muffins panted, pointing at the car park. “We’d better get out of here.”

“How?” Lemon asked.

Indigo looked around. The nook was almost empty, save from an old car parked by the pavement. She stared at it; at first glance, it was an old, rusty Volkswagen Beetle which apparently used to be black before someone poured blue paint all over it. Indigo blinked, thinking of another car she remembered from her past.

---

“Okay, little shit.” Lightning Dust smirked, looking down at Indigo. The sun was reflecting in her sunglasses and polished black combat boots. “What’s that?”

“A car,” Indigo shrugged. She was barely taller than the car, parked in some back street. It was small and old; definitely not something Indigo ever wanted to drive. She’d recently discovered Formula 1 and since the last week, her biggest dream was to drive a Ferrari. Or at least one of those white and yellow cars that were most likely to dominate Formula for years to come.

“Not exactly.” Lightning Dust leaned against the car. “It’s a Pinto. It’s probably older than our parents, it can’t go faster than eighty miles per hour, and it catches fire faster than that Skywalker dude in the last Star Wars movie…” She chuckled.

Indigo nodded. She’d seen the movie only recently, despite being technically too young to watch it. “So, what are we doing here?”

“It’s easy,” Lightning replied. “All old, shitty cars are similar. You can open it with a kick, hotwire it, and the old geezer who owns it won’t even notice it disappeared.” She shrugged. “Assuming he’s alive. Anyway, I’m gonna show you something cool. Auntie Gilda needs parts for such a car, you know.”

Lightning took two steps back. “Watch if no one’s coming, okay?”

“Okay.” Indigo saluted.

“Good.” Lightning looked around and kicked the door of the car. Something in the lock clicked and the door opened. “See? We’re going for a trip.”

“Cool!” Indigo exclaimed. Lightning jumped into the car and opened the door on the other side to let Indigo in. She sat on the seat and looked for the radio, only to find out that it wasn’t working.

“Chill out, kid.” Lightning ripped a bunch of wires from under the steering wheel and showed them to Indigo. “See? You put those two together…”

With a loud wail, the engine came to life. Lightning smirked and turned to Indigo. “We’re going for a trip.”

“Will you let me drive?” Indigo asked.

Lightning chuckled. “Maybe one day, when you grow enough to reach the pedals.” She pushed the accelerator and the car darted forward.

Indigo furrowed her eyebrows. “Hey!”

“Shut up and look for the cops,” Lightning muttered, turning right and looking around. She sped up, maneuvering between other cars. She cursed under her breath, trying to overtake a truck.

“What will the cops do to us if they catch us?” Indigo asked.

“Nothing good.” Lightning punched the radio and it turned on, filling the car with a fast-paced guitar riff. “Hey, this one’s about you. Truly, you’re gonna go far, kid.”

“Maybe if we steal a Ferrari,” Indigo replied, looking through the window and bobbing her head to the rhythm of the song. “How do you steal a Ferrari?”

“Quickly,” Lightning said. “Also, if you steal a Ferrari, everyone is looking for it. Too much trouble.” She looked at the radio. “You really like that?”

“Yup.” Indigo nodded. She wasn’t allowed to say some words that were in the song, which made it even better.

“Fuck,” Lightning muttered. “Too many better musicians logged out before you were born and now you’re left with that Kyoto Motel thing or this.”

“That’s not how they’re called!” Indigo exclaimed. “And they’re shit. Sunny Flare likes them.”

“Don’t tell that when mom can hear you.” Lightning sighed and turned into some nook. “Also, that Sunny Flare needs a crowbar to the skull. Repeatedly.”

“That’s what Sugarcoat says.” Indigo smiled.

“That retard with pigtails?” Lightning shrugged. “I’d like her if she’d shut her fucking mouth up.” She pushed the brakes, stopping by some old, decrepit garage, surrounded by a rusty fence. “There we are.”

They left the car. Lightning looked around and led Indigo to the fence. Then she pushed the small button next to the gate.

“Seems that no one’s home,” Indigo said after a while of waiting.

“Bullshit.” Lightning replied. “Gilda!” she shouted. “Get your sorry ass here!”

The door of the garage opened a little bit. Someone’s head poked out before hiding back in the building. After a few more minutes, the door finally opened and a white-haired girl wearing a brown jacket walked in. Indigo noticed that she was holding a gun.

“Is it real?” she asked.

“Holy shit, and you brought a fucking kid here.” Gilda shuddered, looking at Lightning. “Tell her to get the fuck out. Or better, get the fuck out with her!”

“Damn, Gilda, chill out,” Lightning muttered. “There are kids here. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m packing shit up and leaving,” Gilda replied. “You know the owner of that shithole? That Tirek dude.” She sighed. “Got a visit from Five-O, and probably already started to sing about that Mercedes from the last week.”

Lightning froze. “Or anything else, really. Why didn’t you run already?”

“I said I’m packing my fucking stuff up,” Gilda muttered.

Lightning sighed. “Fuck your stuff. Light it on fire and run. I have a Pinto just for that…”

Suddenly, they heard the wailing of the siren. Indigo turned to see a police car at the end of the street.

“Damn!” Lightning exclaimed. “Indigo, get out. No, don’t run! Walk calmly and don’t look back. If you hear something, run. No one’s gonna shoot a kid running away.”

“I want to stay,” Indigo said. The car was getting closer to them.

“Get out!” Lighting exclaimed. “Stop being dumb and listen to me for once!”

Indigo nodded. She turned around and walked down the pavement, listening to Gilda and her sister yelling at each other. Just as Lightning told her, she didn’t run.

Not until a stray bullet pierced the fuel tank of the Pinto, explosion nearly deafening her.

---

“Indigo, are you okay?” Lemon asked.

“Yeah, I just panicked a bit,” Indigo muttered. “No one’s gonna shoot a kid running away.” She looked at the car. “We need to get out of here.”

“How?” Muffins looked at Indigo unsurely.

“I know a few tricks.” Indigo kicked the door of the car. Something in the lock clicked and the door opened. “Get in,” she muttered.

She didn’t have to say it twice. When Muffins and Lemon took their places inside, Indigo sat at the wheel and looked at the wires under the steering column.

“What now?” Lemon asked.

“Hell only knows,” Indigo replied. “I have to connect two of those wires to turn it on, but I don’t know which ones…”

“Or maybe check if the key is under the vanity mirror,” Muffins said.

Indigo sighed and opened the vanity mirror. The keys fell out on her lap. Without a word, she turned the engine on and pushed the accelerator. With screeching tyres, they darted across the empty and dark town.

“Wonder if anyone got caught,” Muffins said after a while. “I mean, they can play hide and seek with the police in there forever.”

“Let’s see.” Lemon grabbed her phone. “Hmm… Oh, boobies…”

“Where?” Indigo asked.

“Nowhere,” Lemon replied, trying to show the phone to Indigo. “This photo’s gonna be all over the internet tomorrow.”

Indigo pushed the brakes. “Chill out, if you don’t want us to crash…” She looked at the photo. It depicted Sunny Flare in her kangaroo onesie, accompanied by a ginger-haired policewoman. It seemed that she’d managed to take a selfie in the mirror with one hand already in the cuffs, and uploaded it before she was arrested. Interestingly, she even managed to slip in a few tags, including #FreeTheKangaroos, #FuckThePolice, #ThugLife, and #yolo.

“Goddamit, Sunny,” Indigo muttered, shaking her head.

“She seems pretty chill about that,” Muffins said after she saw the photo. “I don’t think she was that drunk.”

“It happened before.” Lemon tapped the screen of her phone a few times. “She was caught shoplifting and all the gossip sites went mad. The court made her clean the park, so she sold the photos of herself in that orange vest to the tabloids and made a nice sum.”

“Is she a celebrity or what?” Muffins asked. “When I do weird stuff, no one wants pics.”

“Oh, there it is.” Lemon looked at the screen. “According to the brief statement on social media, Sunny Flare, eighteen, the daughter of real estate tycoon Winford Epsom-Derby III and soap opera actress and producer Lens Flare, was arrested tonight, blah, blah, blah, such stuff. At least it seems no one else was caught.”

“Her father is called Winford Epsom-Derby III?” Muffins asked. “Really?”

“The only time I saw him, he told us to call him Win. Because he always wins.” Indigo sighed and turned left. “Peculiar dude. You probably know why she prefers ‘Flare’.”

“True.” Muffins shrugged. “Did they arrest someone else?”

“The rest is not that interesting to the media,” Lemon replied. “Also, there’s no rule against holding a sleepover in a store.”

“It’s called ‘trespassing’, I believe,” Indigo said. “By the way, don’t touch anything. Stealing a car is much worse than that.”

Lemon slid her finger down the screen of her phone. “Hmm, they didn’t catch Sour, or else there’d be news about the massacre. And since there are no news about police beating up a condescending high-schooler, they didn’t get Sugarcoat.”

“Maybe I’ll just call them?” Muffins asked. “It’ll be faster.”

“No way!” Lemon exclaimed. “You know that scene in every movie when the hero is hiding from the bad guys and their phone suddenly rings?”

“Right.” Muffins chuckled. “Also, will Sunny have trouble in school? Cloudy Kicks recently got suspended because, as she put it, she cut some bitch.”

“That was me,” Indigo muttered, looking around to see in what part of the town they were. “Also, there was no cutting and if anything, we made her friend squeal like a little bitch.”

“Also, that’s an unofficial Crystal Prep rule,” Lemon said. “As long as Win Epsom-Derby III donates money to school, his daughter could even murder the principal and she’d still be fine.”

“Your school sucks,” Muffins muttered. “And Bulk was right. First Twilight, now Starlight… You keep beating poor little girls…”

“For the record, that was mostly Sour,” Indigo said, taking a sharp turn. “Also, I’d like to remind you that they wanted to, as you put it, cut a bitch. In this case, me.” She parked on an empty square between two buildings. “We’d better ditch the car here and take the bus or something.”

“Wipe your fingerprints from the steering wheel.” Lemon handed Indigo a not exactly clean paper tissue. “Also, if I recall correctly, in five minutes the night bus will stop nearby.”

“Does it go to my house?” Indigo asked, looking at the tissue unsurely. Nevertheless, she took it and wiped the steering wheel.

“No, but there’s a bar two stops from here, and it’s open at night,” Lemon replied. “Don’t say you’re not hungry.”

“Hmm, to think about it, I think I know the owner of this car,” Muffins said when they left the Beetle and walked to the bust stop. “Maybe if I call her and tell her where it is, she won’t call the police?”

Indigo sighed. “Maybe wait until she actually learns that it was stolen.”

“True.” Muffins nodded. “No spoilers.”

A short bus trip later, they stood in front of a small establishment smelling vaguely of some exotic spices. The sign above the door read “Coriander Cumin’s Curry Clubhouse”.

“The guy sure does love alliterations,” Indigo muttered. “Also, curry? I haven’t had curry in, like, ages.”

“Same.” Lemon opened the door. “And his daughter is as hot as the curry.”

“Good thing Sour can’t hear it,” Indigo said. “Hmm, indeed,” she added when they sat at the table and she saw the tall, dark-haired girl collecting the orders from the few patrons that were still there – most exactly, a loud group of five punks in leather jackets led by a chubby girl with piercings and the asymmetric haircut.

“Hi, Saffron,” Lemon said when the waitress walked to them. “The usual for me, something more spicy for Indigo, and, umm…” She looked at Muffins.

“The spiciest thing you have,” Muffins muttered. Saffron nodded and walked behind the counter.

“Wow,” Indigo whispered. “I say, ditch Sour and make a move at the curry girl, Lemon. At least I’ll stop worrying about you becoming a punching bag.”

“I’m not sure…” Lemon shrugged. “Sour needs me.”

Indigo shook her head. Before she could say something more, her phone beeped. She looked at it. “It’s from Sugarcoat. Where the duck are you? I’m sitting in some closet with Sentry and it SUCKS!. At least they didn’t get caught, it seems.”

“How about Bulk?” Muffins asked. “And what duck?”

“Autocorrect.” Indigo smirked, but her smirk quickly faltered. “As for Bulk…”

“You fucked up?” Muffins looked at Indigo, who raised her eyebrows. “Educated guess.”

“No, not really,” Indigo muttered. “I mean, it was an awkward talk, right after I punched Sunny…”

“My educated guess is that you’re digging yourself deeper,” Lemon said. “Next time you’ll tell us that you set off the alarm?”

Indigo raised her head, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she looked at the curry Saffron had just put in front of her.

“You don’t want to talk about Bulk right now, huh?” Lemon asked.

“Mhm,” Indigo muttered, her mouth full of curry.

“You’re gonna just stuff yourself with food?”

“Yes,” Indigo replied.

Lemon leaned over the table to Indigo. “Are you sure?”

Indigo sighed. “Lemon?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Author's Note:

In case you wonder what the title means, I can tell you Sour Sweet has a few of those. And the rest isn't better in that department.

Comments

[hawthornbunny]

My mother is a workplace safety specialist, you know.

Okay, this officially just became a horror fic.

“Someone is running after us.” Muffins panted, pointing at the car park. “We’d better get out of here.”

“How?” Lemon asked.

Don't worry, Muffins can planeswalk out of ther- oh wait, wrong universe

[Night-Quill]

“That’s why I don’t drink,” Indigo muttered.

Hear hear! Teetotallers united!

[Samey90]

10787956
Oh yeah (the world is not ready for drunk Indigo).