Hope You Dance
Old English rock plays, and the low light catches on the glitter of dresses and smiles and metallic confetti as it cascades to the floor.
Rarity wants to dance, but she’s busy mocking love. Let it be known, though, that it takes a measure of immense discipline and dedication to sit still while high school prom passes you by.
Rarity has neither those things, so she’s getting through the night by sheer bitterness.
Rainbow Dash drops herself against the wall and looks down at Rarity with a grin. She’s almost shouting when she says, “I’m more of a soccer chick myself, but even I can tell you struck out.”
Rarity glares back up at Rainbow. “Oh, aren’t you witty?”
Rainbow shrugs. “Aren’t I?”
“Aren’t you,” Rarity echoes, acidly .
It’s a little infuriating when Rainbow chuckles at her. “Told ya.”
“Told me what?” Rarity asks bitingly. “That the most handsome, most princely boy in school would ask me to the dance only to stand me up at the front door for Sunset Shimmer and her, ‘cool chick vibes, y’know’?”
Grinning still, Rainbow shakes her head. “No – but Fluttershy’s made me watch enough teen flicks to know that that was coming – but I did tell ya that no one was gonna care about how ‘French awt couture’ your dress looked.”
“Haute couture,” Rarity corrects. She tugs at her gown, pulling the hem up to reveal her sleek stilettos. She thinks she should have gone with the short dress instead – either way, they feel more like cheap drapes than a month’s worth of pricked fingers. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with my sour disposition.”
Rainbow laughs in the same way she does when Applejack tries to copy Rarity’s accent. “Aw man, this – sorry, buddy, but if you were me, you’d be laughing too.”
“If I were you, I’d be an insensitive, boorish, sport-zombie with exactly zero taste in humour, so yes. I suppose I would laugh, were I you.”
It does nothing to sullen Rainbow’s bright mood, which does nothing to brighten Rarity’s sullen mood.
After a moment, Rainbow shrugs again, says something, but the music swells.
“Pardon?”
“I said – “ she shouts, then drops her voice as the song mellows “ – at least Sunset was pretty cool ‘bout it. Dumped Blueblood so hard he’s gonna need a literal face lift.”
Rarity watches the crowd, and catches Applejack hanging by the punch bowl in jovial conversation with a drinking, dancing Pinkie Pie.
The song transitions jarringly into a more modern pop number, and everyone awkwardly adjust themselves to the new tempo. Awkwardly but happy, nonetheless, Rarity notes.
“Sorry, dude.”
Rarity had been lost watching the moment, hadn’t noticed their conversation fell silent. “Pardon?”
Rainbow kicks the floor. “I said sorry. I know this was your dream moment and all. Drove us all crazy planning for it way back in, like, September. And now you’re just sitting here frowning like you don’t care about the wrinkles it’ll give you.”
Rarity hadn’t even thought of wrinkles, couldn’t think of a time so far ahead when all she has now is an absolute resentment for every Ryan Reynolds movie that told her this moment would be different.
“It isn’t like it’s your fault,” Rarity manages to offer.
“I know. Still feel crappy about it.”
“Well the feeling is mutual, darling.”
Rainbow sighs and stares off at the crowd. Rarity follows her line of sight, tries to see what she sees; maybe the DJ taking a bill from Scootaloo as Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom bounce with excitement behind her – something Rarity should inquire about – or maybe her eyes were on Sunset, Twilight, and Fluttershy, as they laughed and took pictures.
Still – “What brings you to the lonely hearts corner, dear Rainbow?”
Rainbow makes a face, as if it’s a stupid question. “Pfft. Checkin’ up on you, gloom-ster.”
Maybe Rarity really just wants to share the feeling. Maybe that’s what bitterness is all about. “How very kind of you, but that isn’t, let’s say, quite your style.”
Same look on her face, Rainbow picks at the threads of her ripped jeans. Bold of her to come in that and a t-shirt, though Rarity at least expected her to do something with her hair. “I don’t have a style, dude. I’m a rock star, I set the style.”
Rarity could argue the technicalities of that statement, but she chooses not to. “Who is it?”
“Who is what?”
“Who is your heartbreaker?”
Rainbow groans. “First, that’s a dumb way to phrase it, and second, no one. Duh.”
Rarity crosses her arms. “Oh, pish-posh. You were half as excited as I until the day before the dance, and then you started acting like this.”
“Like what?” Rainbow challenges with the exasperation she has when Sunset is lecturing her about something she doesn’t care about.
“Like a lost soul trying to shake it off. Like a rock star that sings a sad song and it just doesn’t fit their sound.”
“Oh, aren’t you witty?” Rainbow mocks.
Rarity is almost glad to see the sentiment has spread. “Aren’t I?”
“Aren’t you.”
Rarity tips her head. She sees Rainbow grimace, but neither says anything as the music changes over again, this time to an electronic remix of the Sesame Street song.
There’s a collective groan across the room, but then Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo start dancing the Macarana dance as if it were ever in style.
Then Pinkie joins them, tugging along Applejack, followed shortly by the Environmental Club – who also happens to be the Applejack Fan Club – and, quickly enough, most of the crowd trails along as well.
Rarity hears Rainbow chuckle, and she does so herself as well, but she gets the feeling neither of them really feels like laughing right now.
Still, they watch until the second chorus comes in, where Rainbow Dash pushes off the wall and stretches.
“Man, this is dumb.”
“What is?”
Rainbow throws her arms out, opens her mouth, but says nothing. She shuts her mouth into a wry smile, and tries again.
“Feeling rejected, I guess. I dunno. It’s dumb, though. Half the school doesn’t have a date and look at them!”
Rarity does, and sees the student body free-style disco while Pinkie raps over the music.
“Well, it’s different for everyone, dear.”
Rainbow shrugs again. “Not fair – it should suck for everyone else, too.”
“A pity party should only have one invited,” Rarity offers. Somehow, seeing Rainbow, she feels the roles have shifted.
Rainbow stares at the floor and shakes her head. “So is that what you’ve been doin’ all night over here? Thinking of the dumbest one-liners ever?”
“Oh, yes. As well as criticizing anything that dares to exist.”
“Room for one more?”
Rarity shimmies down the bench and pats the space she opened. “Misery loves company.”
Sinking down beside Rarity, Rainbow mutters, “And no one loves us, huh?”
Rarity scoffs. “Oh, please. A high school prom is no place for love; it’s for cheap punch and cheaper dresses.”
“And cheaper music,” Rainbow adds.
“And cheaper dancing,” Rarity follows.
“And cheaper puns.”
“And cheaper decorations.”
“And cheaper dr– uhh, no, wait – ”
“You stuttered!” Rarity snaps merrily, pointing at Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow raises her hands in defeat. “All right, you win. You’re prom queen of this pity party.”
Maybe bitterness has a way of playing a game until it’s fun. Rarity stands up, holding her hand against herself and looking astonished. “I? As queen? Oh, you’re all so very kind.”
Rainbow stands up, clapping a slow, sarcastic clap. “Speech, speech.”
Waving at no one, Rarity pretends to accept an award. “Oh, if you insist. I would like to thank the academy, and all my fans – ”
“You’re queen, not Grammy-award winning Taylor Swift,” Rainbow Dash groans with a roll of her eyes.
“I could be, couldn’t I? I am a heartbroken teenager with awfully witty one-liners.”
“Thought I was the rock star.”
“You are,” Rarity offers, genuinely. Rainbow returns it with a dry grin.
Applause roars in, mixed with laughter, as the song comes to an end and half the student body stands in various finishing poses. When, after at least a full minute, it settles down, the sound of a slow piano ballad comes in.
Rarity really should feel a sorrowful, melancholic connection with it. But she’s not sorrowful tonight, she’s spiteful and petty and bitter.
She looks over at Rainbow Dash, who waggles her eyebrows back.
She’s spiteful and petty and bitter, and she has a friend to share that with.
“This is boring,” Rainbow says, kicking up confetti and watching it fall in a dusty heap. “Let’s ditch this popsicle stand.”
“I’m feeling more like frozen yogurt,” Rarity hums, already making her way to the exit.
“Sounds good to me,” Rainbow agrees, nodding. They walk along the walls, steering far from the teens in huddled slow dance.
Funnily enough, it doesn’t look like a moment from a movie to Rarity anymore, as she gazes over the scene she’s parting from. More like bad home video, somehow.
“But the fro-yo shack’s a bit of a walk from here,” Rainbow says as she grabs her sports jacket and hands Rarity her cardigan. “You gonna go all the way there in your pumps?”
“Well, I had prepared myself to dance in them all night,” Rarity says, pushing through the double doors. Cold air bites at her through the thin fabric of her cardigan. “And I didn’t so much as walk to the punch bowl, so I might as well.”
Rainbow’s pulling her jacket over her other arm when she slides it off and offers it to Rarity. Rarity takes it wordlessly.
“We can dance when we’re there,” Rainbow suggests, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “They probably have something better playing there, anyways.”
Part of Rarity is screaming at her for wearing a jacket so unbefitting of her gown. The other, currently stronger part cackles in its face.
“Why, that sounds delightful.”
Rainbow laughs, much like she had been earlier in the night. “It sounds lame.”
“All the better.”
A beat, then Rainbow stares at the sky and mutters, “Can’t believe any of this.”
Rarity looks up as well, and they fall into comfortable quiet as she snuggles inside the jacket. She counts the stars and listens to the tempo of their footfalls on the sidewalk, hears a song in them.
It’s not a happy song, nor is it sad; it’s somewhere confused in the middle, like the two of them.
Rarity looks over at Rainbow Dash, whose eyes are lost in the sky.
She thinks, then, that perhaps misery loves company indeed, if only because sharing the pain means they feel less of it. Means they can mock it, knowing that someone else feels the same and doesn’t want to.
Rarity smiles sincerely, but titters bitterly. “By the way.”
Rainbow spares Rarity a sidelong look. “Yeah?”
“I hope you dance.”
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While I'm typically not a fan of stories written in the present tense, I have to say that I quite enjoyed this. Your dialog was snappy and flowed well, and considering the fic was more or less a single conversation that's definitely important.
This was a good read. Thanks for posting it!
I actually really liked this story. Haven't seen a concept like "Rarity ditches her own prom after being dumped at the door" on this site before, and I thought Rainbow's one-liners were pretty funny.
I like it. Nice tone, and good characterization. Have a fav.
This is... really good.
Nice work indeed!
~Skeeter The Lurker
Hey, maybe have never been to a school dance... But I'd say you nailed this perfectly. ...I'd pay to see Blueblood get slammed face first into the floor by Sunset, y'know.
this was really good!!!
thank you for sharing it with us
As an introvert who went to two proms -- one my senior year with my then-girlfriend and once with a younger friend for her senior prom -- and other high school dances, I can say that you pretty much nailed the sideline perspective.
The description and the dialogue, and the 3rd-person-limited monologue underneath the dialog, are all creative and precise. You could have a knack for poetry.
People who like this will probably also like Under The Streetlights, modulo that they're similar enough to border on repetitiveness. They also might like After the Races.
I really love the dialogue and characterization in this story.
Slice of Life at its finest. I feel them. The non existing romance tag helps a lot.
Very nice. Shame that knowing the hi jinx of this town the fro yo is probably cursed.
You can has review!