Chapter 2: East Vanhoover Private
Lark ached a little on his first day of 5th grade. He’d spent Friday and Saturday preparing for next year’s garden. Very grateful to his aunt and uncle, he was most excited about the Spring planting. He even knew what he wanted to plant. Still, he knew it would be… six whole months before then. Oh, well. He still felt good.
With the huge backyard there were several places to set up, but he had chosen the southeast corner of the house. There were no obstacles to block sunlight from the south of that direction, trees in the yard would protect the garden from the harshest afternoon sun and heat from the west, and best of all, perhaps, he could see it from his room.
He’d chosen his spot, established boundaries, and tilled, by hoof and shovel, a 35x20 ft. area 12 in. deep. He even added some coarse sand to alleviate the heavy clay. His aunt and uncle were astounded at how quickly he was able to do it. It only took him Friday, taking his meals outside. After sleeping like the dead, Lark took a wagon the next morning and went to a community compost site. He made several trips back and forth, obtaining mulch. Around the perimeter of the garden, he established a mulch barrier and ran several paths through the garden itself. Once finished, he cleaned up, ate three times what he’d normally eat, and went on to spend most of Sunday asleep. Everything was ready regarding school, so he was unconcerned.
And now, he sat in his new classroom. The other foals didn’t seem to notice him; they chattered, some whining about Summer being over, others happy to see old friends again. Lark just sat, looking at his worn hooves. He hadn’t been able to get all the soil out. But he felt good. He’d been aching to get some real exercise, both to cure his boredom, and to distract him from his several worries. But he needn’t worry so much. His sisters would be fine. As different as they were, each had a magnetic personality, and he was unconcerned overall about them fitting in. It was just his “inner big brother” getting the better of him.
Aunt Fairy and Uncle Star gave them a nice sendoff that morning. They had pancakes and eggs, always good, and the siblings walked to school together.
Looking up at the clock, it read 8:25 a.m. In a few minutes he’d meet his new teacher, Ms. Breeze Pearlshine. Supposedly, she was a no-nonsense mare, but she was said to be fair. Lark knew she wasn’t there to be his friend; he may like her, and she may like him, but her job was to teach, first and foremost. Looking around again, Lark noticed the classroom itself. Used to colorful displays and cartoony posters, the classroom seemed rather drab. It didn’t bother him, it was just… different. The foals seemed the same no matter where he was.
The clock struck 8:30 and the bell rang. Foals that were standing around took a seat. Lark had expected, perhaps, that he would have a name-tag waiting for him on a desk. Some teachers in the past had done that, but that day he just sat down and trusted any assignment would come later. As the last of the foals sat down, Ms. Pearlshine walked in. The class hushed up.
She was… different than Lark had expected. The title “Ms.”, he had long thought, was for old mares that had never married, or were divorced. But Ms. Pearlshine looked to be less than 30. A Pegasus, she wore heavy cat’s-eye glasses, but looked young nonetheless. Her mane was strawberry-blonde and her coat a pastel green. She was the best-looking teacher he’d ever seen.
Standing before the class, she addressed them, “Good morning, students. Welcome to the 5th grade, class B. For those of you that don’t know me, I’m Ms. Pearlshine.”
She had a pleasant voice.
“I will be assigning seating over the next few days, but for now, let’s everypony introduce themselves. Many of you know each other, but some of you are new or may not know some students from other classes.”
Ms. Pearlshine reintroduced herself. She was from Canterlot, having gone to college there. She had been on a college track team, but she had wanted to teach.
Lark could see the athlete in her. Maybe... she was a coach, as well. This could be where she got her reputation for seriousness from. The other foals had remained quiet the whole time. Lark had yet to figure out if they did this because it was a private school, if it was the teacher, or if they just hadn’t gotten bored yet. His answer, he figured, came when a few colts behind him began showing each other some card game.
Barely even raising her voice, or changing her manner, Ms. Pearlshine scooped up an eraser and flung it. It whipped by Lark’s head and scattered the contents of one of the colts’ desks.
“Put your game away. And please pay attention. You can play at recess.”
They cleaned up and sat.
Lark was wowed by Ms. Pearlshine. That was all. No malice, no threats, just a quick display of dominance. The incident forgotten, she finished up her introduction.
Lark tried to pay attention as the students began to introduce themselves. Most of them had been going there since they were kindergartners. He managed to catch a few names, but not many. Orange Cuckoo, Spearmint Gum, etc. It took a while before he came up. But his turn arrived. He wondered how they’d react to his name. He stood up at his desk.
“Good morning. I’m Larkspur Blossom-”
A few giggles erupted from the class.
Yes, yes... He knew he had a girly name. He had never asked his dad where the name came from. But it was his.
Even Ms. Pearlshine was giggling behind a hoof. He noticed some who laughed were fillies, looking at him most interestedly.
“Now, settle down class,” Ms. Pearlshine smiled, looking at him. “You do have a most interesting name, Larkspur. Please go on.”
“Please, call me Lark. I just moved here this summer from Fillydelphia with my little sisters.”
He chose to omit why, or where they were now, and thought of other things to say. What did he like? Cooking, cleaning? Sounded weird...
“I like gardening. I actually spent the weekend getting a garden for Spring ready. Come Winter Wrap-up, I’m planting. I also enjoy… history. Ever since I could read, I’ve been going after my dad’s old books.”
He couldn’t think of much else to say, so he sat down.
“Thank you, Lark,” Ms. Pearlshine said. “We have a few more students, and then we can begin today’s lesson plan.”
Lark noticed a lot of eyes looking his way. Without letting on, he noticed interest, outright dislike, and some dreamy fillies eyeballing him. Recess could prove interesting. Ms. Pearlshine kept good discipline. No other need for her to “regain their attention” came up.
Recess occurred twice each day, at 10:00 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. They had 15 minutes for the first outing and 45 for the second. Not bad. Lunch was at 11:45 a.m., so that would be a while.
The first recess bell rang, and the students filed out. Ms. Pearlshine discretely called Lark aside. He was unsure what to expect. It could be about his living situation, the fact his dad had just died, or any other number of things.
But, “I’m sorry I laughed at your name this morning. It’s such a nice name.”
This was unexpected.
“I just remembered seeing your name on the register and I… couldn’t help but wonder what kind of colt you might be. You certainly are an interesting one… How do you like your first day so far?”
There wasn’t much for him to say, yet, “I’ve only been here this morning… Not much to say, yet.”
She was tickled at his manner, “Oh, I think having you around will be interesting. Now, off with you. Hopefully you and your classmates can have a little fun. Run off some of that energy.”
Lark began to walk outside. The morning had been alright. Math was first. Then language. Now recess. He expected to see a few interested foals when he walked outside, but he hadn’t expected to see most of his class waiting for him. Good or bad, it was hard to say what this was.
A unicorn colt Lark remembered as Tuxedo Parade approached him. He looked like a panda.
“So, ‘flower’, how’d you wind up at a place like this?”
Lark had his poker-face up. Tuxedo was already looking for trouble? He’d expected a little more beating around the bush before trouble. He decided to be cool.
“Didn’t want to walk all the way to another school. This one’s closer, ‘panda bear’.”
The response took the class by surprise. A few of them giggled, especially the fillies. Tuxedo didn’t appreciate it, and neither did his apparent cronies, coming to his side. His cronies were all unicorns, some of them appeared to be from another class.
“You’ve got a lot to say for an Earth pony,” his horn sparked. “I don’t like you, already. You're weird.”
Lark stood his ground. He wasn’t afraid. Admittedly, there wasn’t much that scared him anymore. There were only a few things that bugged him.
Tuxedo went on, “The weirdest thing I’ve heard about you so far is you’re the only Earth pony in your family. Your sisters are a unicorn and a Pegasus…”
This got Lark’s goat. His sisters… Anytime somepony even hinted at making trouble for his sisters, he got mean in a hurry.
The panda-coated unicorn didn’t seem to notice he'd awoken something better off not provoking, “What grade are they in, now? I bet-”
Lark moved about as quickly as they’d ever seen anypony move. He propelled Tuxedo against the brick wall near the entrance and held him fully aloft by the neck. All the work he did beefed him up a little, if nothing else.
He seethed, hissing like a puff-adder, “If I catch you--if I even hear that you went near them, I’ll snap off that horn of yours and shove it down your throat. I’ll watch you choke on it!”
Any fight Tuxedo might have had in him died right there. He’d been kicking his legs helplessly, but had stopped, close to pissing himself. The rest of the class was floored as well. Lark eyed him, looking rather incensed. But it passed quickly.
Lark put him down and stepped back, almost immediately calm once again.
Tux was unsure what to do. His face betrayed fear, but he also showed frustration and embarrassment... lots of anger and disbelief, too. It was hard to say what might happen next, because a playground attendant barked at them from a distance.
“What are you foals up to over there?! You better not be fighting!”
One of Tux’s crew shouted back, “Just talking.”
With that, Tux and his crew split, leaving Lark and the rest of the class. Not really knowing what to do, some still showing interest, fear, awe, most of them wandered off. There was still more than 10 minutes left of recess.
Lark walked towards the playground. He noticed ponies skirting him a bit.
Great first impression, Lark, he thought bitterly. At least he’d established himself. Leaving his classmates behind, he decided to look for his sisters.
Other than the kindergarten, grades 1 to 6 shared the playground. He noticed things looked divided. Younger foals around the playground, older ones at the ball courts or in small groups dotting the yard. Not really following him, a few of his classmates were watching him.
And Lark saw his sisters. Valley was running around with a bunch of squealing fillies, kicking up sand and easily outpacing them. Copper was nearby, sitting quietly with several foals, including a single stallion. They were talking and apparently it was nice, because they were laughing. Lark had thought to check on them, but seeing they were doing fine without him, he began to walk away, smiling.
“Lark!”
He turned. It was Valley, running full-tilt towards him. She jumped to him, and he managed to catch her with a spin. She had gotten hefty enough that he doubted he could do that much longer. Her eyes shined, and she shook loose. She gathered up her friends.
“Girls, this is my big brother, Lark. Isn’t he cool?”
She went on, introducing him quickly to all the fillies that had been running around with her. He wouldn’t remember their names a minute later, but he was sure he’d be seeing them. Looking over to Copper, she had noticed. She smiled and waved. Lark waved back, and Copper went back to talking. Walking away, he was now sure his sisters would be just fine.
While most of Lark’s classmates lost interest in his display of dominance, a few saw this. Not Tux or his friends, but a few fillies and a colt or two. Lark was proving to be most interesting. Lark spent the next few minutes looking around, when the bell rang. The students filed back inside.
Back in the classroom, it was time for social studies. Lark found the subject boring… in the school setting. There wasn’t much to say about their government, nothing new anyway. What bothered him was the “history”. Lark had spent his childhood reading about war, pioneers, death, disease, and the changing of the land, but anything schools taught was mush in comparison.
His dad had told him that about the time he was young, hard history had been phased out of school. This applied to both private and public schools, apparently. He didn’t care about the first time “The Running of the Leaves” was held. Lark knew some of his father’s contemporaries, some of whom history professors, felt the last couple hundred years of peace had softened Equestria. The hardships that formed the land were forgotten, in favor of mush. War was some far-off thing most ponies didn’t even acknowledge as real.
Lark didn’t like mush. He cared more about topics such as the Centauri-Equestrian War, 80 years before; of note, a single platoon of starving ponies held a mountain pass for five weeks in the face of a whole centaur army. Lark had never read his actual memoir, but Lieutenant Zip “Fire” Jetscream had been a formidable Pegasus. His platoon, which became known as the “Fireland Platoon” for their gruesome defensive tactics, was legendary. And where did this happen? Well, just south of where they were now, in present day Vanhoover, quickly rebuilt upon the coast. Lark could go on and on about the exploits of dozens of conflicts over the centuries.
He also knew that going after these topics invited trouble. He’d never had a teacher that would at least admit to knowing much. It seemed a forbidden area of study. He’d even gotten in trouble for writing reports about such material, or sharing it with other foals. Disappointed, but unsurprised, the subject of social studies took them to lunchtime.
In the cafeteria, Lark filed through the line, got his daisy sandwich, milk, and veggies, and sat down alone at a table. He hadn’t done much to participate in social studies, keeping quiet. He wondered how his reputation was doing. He’d let that panda-looking pecker say four or five sentences before going for his throat. It was rather unlike him, and he regretted acting out that strongly, but he hadn't been sent to the principal's office and wasn't worried much. It just pissed the shit out of him when anypony even looked at his sisters wrong.
Lark did notice a lot of students looking at him. Word of his actions had spread. Meh. What was there to do?
Munching on his sandwich, he heard hoofsteps behind him. Ready for trouble, he tensed up.
“Uh, Lark?”
It was a filly’s voice. He turned, and instead of seeing the trouble he was ready to… deal with harshly… there were three of his classmates, all fillies. Cute fillies.
Lark eyed them, “Hi.”
Looking nervous, one of them came forward as Lark took a bite of his sandwich, “Lark, could we sit with you? This table is the only one with three empty spaces… so…?”
He stopped chewing and said evenly, nodding to the spots, “Sure.”
They sat down. And said nothing. They just sat, apparently uncomfortable sitting with this already legendary 5th grader.
Lark casually stated, “I wasn’t able to catch everypony’s name this morning.”
The one who addressed him, a unicorn with a creamy coat and a black mane, fiddled her hooves, “Oh! My name’s Medium Waltz. Funny name, I know. Parents thought ‘Slow Waltz’ sounded… well, dumb. I said I collected stamps... this morning?”
Maybe she had. He couldn’t remember. The other fillies perked up.
One of them, a very pretty little Pegasus with a lemony coat and short, off-white mane, spoke next, “I’m Thunder Rider. I have to ask, Lark, how is it an Earth pony has a unicorn and a Pegasus for sisters? Are you all adopted or something?”
The other fillies cringed and shied away from her. It could be trouble.
Lark found this girl interesting. She may have not thought through all that well, but she was funny in her bright manner. The tension rose, the other fillies continuing to scoot away. Even Thunder realized she goofed.
But Lark laughed. Everypony in the cafeteria probably noticed, as they shut up and looked his way. The fillies sitting with him were dumbfounded. It was the first real emotion other than his brief 15 seconds of anger anypony had seen all day.
He looked at Thunder, who was now relaxing, “No, no. We’re related. My dad’s family saw marriages of every kind. It got to the point that it was a surprise what a foal turned out to be.”
While strange--and a bit off-putting--it put the girls at ease. The last filly was also a Pegasus and had yet to introduce herself. Her coat was a chestnut brown, but she had a pink mane. Quite the contrast.
“I’m Misty Twirl… I have to say Lark; your Pegasus sister is adorable! And so fast!”
Lark guessed someponies had seen that, “Yeah. My sister, Valley Lily. She’s a 2nd grader. My other sister was around, but she’s a bit less… active than Valley. She did wave to me. Looked like she was enjoying herself, so I left her be. Her name’s Copper Curls... 1st grader.”
Thinking about the trouble she had caused when very young, he laughed again, “When Copper was first able to perform magic, she’d sometimes light the couch on fire. Valley had energy, but at least she couldn’t do that. It was hard to keep up with them sometimes.”
This opened up the table for a bunch of things to talk about, mostly what the girls liked. Lark sat, and listened, not eager to spill everything right then. But it was nice. They explained that each grade had two or 3 three classes, A, B, and C, depending on what was needed for a specific grade each year. With so many 5th graders that year, class C had been activated as it had the year before when they were 4th graders. He chatted with these girls as they ate lunch, and soon, the bell for recess rang.
Trotting outside, Lark was in a pretty good mood. Lunch had been pleasant. Misty shared a pack of bubble gum with the others and they were seeing who could make the best bubble. Gum usually wasn’t allowed in school, but they could enjoy it over recess. And hopefully they’d dispose of it properly… Lark wasn’t great at blowing bubbles, but he had fun. He also couldn’t whistle or roll his tongue, which the fillies found funny.
Lark hoped he could become friends with these girls; they were nice. He walked alongside them a while. Misty had gushed over his sisters, having several little sisters of her own, but had little to say otherwise. Thunder would barely shut up long enough to eat, talking about the coltband she was into and strawberries and ice cream and hoofball. She just wouldn’t stop.
He did enjoy Medium’s company, especially. Neither shy, nor outspoken, he could relate to her. She liked to listen, and she would only speak when there was something to say. This wasn’t the thing he liked about her though. She was funny. Thunder’s careless comments were amusing, but she lacked the wit with which Medium was rife.
Approaching the hoofball field, Lark was suddenly jerked up by one of his back legs. He let out a surprised yelp, now dangling a good few feet off the ground. Medium and her friends were taken aback and one of them shrieked. Lark looked around. Of course. There was Tux and his douche-bag patrol, or whatever Lark might end up calling them. One of his goons had Lark levitated, and it was a little shaky for Lark’s liking.
Tux strode up, a smile on his face, “Well, well, look who made it to my side of the playground.”
Lark slowly revolved unhappily. His glasses were askew, and it took him a moment to focus. He said nothing, frowning. Tux motioned his fellow unicorn to lower Lark closer to his level. He spun Lark, who was on an invisible pedestal, so they could see each other. Lark waited to take a swing. Just then wasn’t the time.
Tux laughed, and he spun Lark around. He spun him until all was a blur to Lark. Lark became so dizzy, he almost puked. By now, all the foals nearby were paying attention while Tux’s colts warned away others, keeping an eye out for teachers.
Tux stopped Lark, “You’re a real smartass, Blossom. Think you’re tough? Doesn’t mean much against magic.”
The unicorn zapped Lark; it was the most physical pain Lark had ever been in. It hurt so much he couldn’t even cry out. Then he went limp, moaning. Just as Lark was regaining his senses, Tux bucked him in the side, spinning him again, and Lark yelled out. The wind knocked out of him, he swallowed his gum as he tried to get his breath back.
A few fillies screamed.
What’s this guy’s problem? Lark contemplated. That hurt! Any other thought fell off as some of the other colts laid into him. Unable to defend himself, Lark took a beating. By this time, some foals had run off screaming for a teacher. Lark didn’t notice. He was too busy getting pummeled.
Oh, why did I have to bait this guy earlier? He’s just probably some spoiled nobody whose parents run the school board, or something. Lark may have thought such things, but he was still too busy being pummeled.
Next, the unicorn holding Lark propelled him across the playground sand. It burned and got everywhere on Lark. He was hefted up and thrown down a couple times, as Tux and his friends laughed. If the ground hadn’t been deep sand, Lark might have been seriously injured. This just hurt. And Lark was getting desperate. He was getting angry.
Lark tried to gather his thoughts. He managed to gather a couple hooves full of sand and held on tight. Then the unicorn brought him close to the group, lifting him up higher than before. Lark was sure this throw would take him out, so he hurled the sand into his captor’s eyes.
He lost control of Lark and howled. Facing off against unicorns, Lark should have lost, but they weren’t dealing with any little colt. Within a second of landing on his hooves, he bucked Tux in the stomach so hard he brought up his lunch. Not even stopping, Lark let out a terrifying yell and laid into the other Unicorns in Tux’s little gang.
They stood no chance. Lark grabbed one of them, attempting to cast a spell, and slugged him with his hoof until his horn quit glowing. He then propelled him across the sand, wrapping him around a leg of the swing set. The one that had been holding him was still screaming, his face full of sand. Lark ignored him, grabbing another who was starting to run, and he threw him bodily into the gathering crowd. The foals scattered, leaving the flying unicorn to faceplant in the sand. Headbutting another so hard he saw stars, and putting him in a headlock, he clobbered him with his free legs.
Lark looked around in a daze, still holding the semi-conscious foal in a headlock. He had lost track of where he was, he was so worked up. Tux’s crew had split in fear. Except for one, so scared he didn’t, or couldn’t run. Or maybe he was just stupid. Lark couldn’t forget his stupid face, laughing at him, bucking him in the ribs. Leaving behind his bucking bag, Lark chased the slow, clumsy colt, literally kicking his ass through and around the jungle gym. It was like these unicorns forgot they had magic, and Lark was having his way with them.
And this whole time, all the foals in the area were watching this. None interfered. It was… scary.
Lark’s object of the ruthless asskicking collapsed, after a monstrous kick to the balls sent his fat ass end over end. But Lark didn’t kick him when he was down. Not that he was against kicking somepony when he was down, he just didn’t have the energy to do so. He just staggered towards the group, his glasses awry, panting and coughing up sand. He saw his new filly friends. They looked aghast. Lark looked down at himself. He was dirty, a little scraped up, bruised, but nothing seemed broken. He adjusted his glasses, setting them straight.
Looking back at the massacre he had unleashed, he noticed Tux hadn’t moved much. He just lay there, gagging and crying. The rest were incapacitated or had escaped. Lark didn’t even see the teachers approaching, galloping across the playground. Too bad it was over.
That hadn’t been the first fight Lark was ever in, but it had been a while. What were those idiots thinking, starting trouble with him for no good reason? Over what? A smart observation to a smart query? Not discontented with himself, he chuckled at the fallen. He was no sadist; they were just stupid enough to deserve it. It sounded awfully chilling to those assembled.
“Stupid colts…” Lark spat.
Coughing a few times and gagging once, he keeled over and took a little break from consciousness.
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If Larkspur Blossom was voiced, what would he sound like?
8698613
I have to tell you, I haven't been able to make up my mind about that. When I read his lines and thoughts, about all that comes to mind is a calm baritone voice. One that's almost bored, but not monotonous. But a specific, familiar character with which to compare his voice? I'm unable to come up with one.
9889228
I doubt some 11-year-old is overly worried about such things.