Overbright

by LackLustre

Sparkling

Author's Note:

Some very lackluster word vomit I wanted to clean from my brain. Either way, if you can find something to enjoy about a mundane background pony story, go ahead.

(If that bugs ya, you can always follow my main account linked in my blogs for better horsewords.)

Sparkler was precise shortening of her name that had stuck since fillyhood more than Amy had. When somepony learned you went by Sparkler, they had a select few reactions she had taken care of trying to sort from her earliest days; what filly could look up at grown-ponies and see how their expressions popped with every emotion? Even when they denied it, Sparkler would watch how you could see in a grownup’s eye their feelings had a zing to them that was completely unexpected when you heard how they talked about feelings.

Some ponies heard 'Sparkler' and didn't know that her name belonged to a filly. Yes, she knew it could be a colt name. Most names could switch between fillies and colts with the same ease that Daddy set her on a train to Ponyville from Canterlot, and then Mommy would send her back again.

There were sixteen foals in the current class of Our Sun Celestia's Magic Kindergarten who had names that didn't belong to anyfilly or colt only. She tallied them on one of her notebook's pages whenever her lessons with Daddy were done and she could walk down the cobbled streets to Platinum Way, turning at Saddlespeare Street to where the public school stood. Sparkler only counted the names she heard called out at afternoon kindergarten; by the time she reached the playground fence all the morning classes had let out. Sparkler knew she was partly to blame but stopping to talk to the thirty-three regular ponies she passed on her walk didn't feel like anything she should feel bad about.

If any of the other foals saw how she watched their recesses, she always tried to wave first. Saying nothing sometimes worked in her favor, mostly because then they could just wave back. Nopony had to ask her why she was eating her picnic lunch by herself. It wasn't that she didn't like to be talked to. Sparkler just got tired of answering the same questions; that meant she had to add more tallies to her boring lists, for when her peculiar solitude was questioned, every instance she had to explain about her Ponyville friends, or why the most observant of the other children thought she had two birthdays.

At least foals didn't care about why she didn't look quite like a filly or a colt. Or why she never took the entrance exam for the school Princess Celestia actually owned, the one that was private like all her lessons, but not the same as coloring fractions at two kitchen tables. Her dad was one of the exam-givers, anyway. If she wanted to hang out around the school, Sparkler could just go with him and help sort his quills by bird of origin again. Somepony had to.

Those were still easier to deal with than the shaded-worry looks from grown ponies on her train rides. She couldn't choose the right words for their questions and coos about what a mature little foal she was to be travelling alone. There were no right words, so she kept her tallies instead.

...

Lacy Locks, Moondancer, Dazzle Surprise, Lakeshore Lullaby, and Serendipity Spellbound were all very pretty names she heard for the fillies on the playground. If only 'Amy' weren't as plain as unbuttered toast, otherwise she would stand out just fine. Instead, Sparkler got all the zing. Though, on her list of potential alternative nicknames, she was thinking Amethyst Sparks could be Amy Sparks. Mommy might declare it to have enough zing.

Autumn Skye, Sparkleworks, Sunsparkle, and Triple Treat were all colt-names she would've never thought were instantly colt-y. Sparkler could fit among them, in name only.

Even though Miss Bubbly Doo never cared to say 'Sparks' even she could say Sparkler like it didn't have to be connected a Mister Spark Out.

Until then, Sparkler was a name that kept the crunch in the peanut butter.

...

No matter how much 'Sparkler' danced off a pony's tongue, ponies could be told her name and forget it for something else. No matter how special the sight of a spark, magic or otherwise, somepony else's name could end up their mouth when they were supposed to be talking to her.

Sparkler spent all her summers in Ponyville, and Mommy said it was supposed to be for the best. Really, there was no reason to doubt Mommy. She was wonderful, funny, and knew everything about nicknames. Sparkler's mommy had more nicknames than hooves, which was tied for outstanding attributes along with getting to go to Canterlot parties with Daddy and play with fillies who loved magic tricks, Sapphire Shores, and fashion just as much as she did. Ponyville was near her Mommy's eye doctor, her home in the sky, and close enough to Daddy. The princess herself even paid Sparkler's mommy to live in a nice house in Ponyville, and even though it wasn't Canterlot-nice, Sparkler had hugged her Mommy after counting all the pretty window boxes and could walk to the farmer's markets every single day.

None of this pressed Sparkler into anypony's memory nearly as much as she would've liked. She did all the shopping when Mommy was on her mail route and was the only filly in her whole Filly Scout troop that knew about the secrets of bits. Mommy and Daddy never stopped praising her for knowing mysterious arts like Prudence and Sensibility, but they weren't mysterious magical practices like her friends said. She was keeping things tidy and helping. That was why she was the best of all her Scout pals for ice cream plans. Sparkler could budget.

Sparkler could also speak sweetly and make ponies buy more cookies. Everypony could remember the names of Filly Scout cookies, no matter the tongue twister, but nopony could remember the name of the filly who always tried to smile the best and brightest to sell boxes. Ponyville was where everypony was supposed to know their neighbor. Sparkler saw how many of her earth pony Scout friends had played together and stayed over at houses since before they could walk. Still, she was always Sprinkler, Amethyst Glitter, Amy-Doo, and not-Sparkler.

Mommy said it was because Sparkler wasn't here enough, when Sparkler color-coded her calendar enough to know that she was in Ponyville for half of the year. She thought there was a high likelihood Mommy might not understand because everypony remembered one of Mommy's names. She was Ditzy, Bubbles, and Miss Doo.

...

Sparkler took note of where her Mommy was and why. Sometimes, Sparkler did not always know the why. Fishing through Mommy's purses for their map the next morning would solve that. Her and Mommy never liked to forget anything, Sparkler out of nature and Mommy out of brain accidents. There was always a map in Mommy's saddlebag, with colors for each place she visited each day of the month. Sparkler picked the color for the day at breakfast right from her crayon bin, and would show off a magic trick, too. Her mommy would clap and compliment how well her tutor's efforts paid off.

Mommy took the map to a lot of restaurants lately, and she didn't bring Sparkler. At first, Sparkler didn't think she would mind. She could eat all the food at home. She could stomp around to musicals on the phonograph, make whatever she wanted for dinner, and ration the cookies all to herself, thank you very much.

But she did like going out to restaurants, too. Whenever a Ponyville restaurant had a party, Sparkler would watch with never ending awe. Neat rows of spoons and forks for different things warmed her heart, but to see all the tiny steps of fancy dinners held anywhere be made complete was like knowing a secret spell.

She wondered if 'Amy' or 'Sparkler' would look nicer on a name tag, and how powerful the managers must feel. Only princesses and mares with haircuts as snippy as their words could defeat a manager, and Sparkler could only see delight in the idea of being able to manage something.

Eventually, Sparkler didn't have to wonder about anything visits her Mommy took to restaurants any longer, and why she smiled so much making the next morning's breakfast, singing with her high, happy voice.

Mommy had met a pegasus stallion named Compass Star. He had some unicorn family in Tall Tale and pegasus family in Cloudsdale. Sparkler had never been to either place, but she wrote a report on Tall Tale that earned gold star stickers from Daddy and a place on the icebox. When Sparkler met him, he told her about an antique shop his unicorn cousin ran, and that it was filled with happy, magic things she would love. Her neck hurt from nodding, and she clenched her jaw in a Filly Scout smile, speaking only when spoken to like she had never done before.

He also only called her Mommy 'Muffins' when that was something only Daddy did before.

And it took him forty-six days to start calling her something other than you, sweetie, and not-names.

Compass called her Amethyst Star.

...

Sparkler's smile shrank when the rest of her grew. Like any shadow, there was something even her youthful heart knew was unshakable about her newfound feelings. New emotions drummed against her once-carefree thoughts like a summer afternoon's rain when her mom had taken the umbrella. Thoughts stretched, curling here and there like they wanted to test just how restless they could be.

Her smiles weren't gone, but the brightest Filly Scout of the Ponyville troop had dulled some. Little fillies didn't get to choose where they lived, even if they made their own dinners, shopped for all the food, and played adult.

Ponyville had demanded roots because Compass offered her a home the way adults pretended things were compromises when Sparkler had to learn they really weren't. She had two perfectly good homes and two parents that loved her very much.

Now, Sparkler had only half the birthday and Hearth's Warming presents she did and she had half a home with one mom. Compass was there, too. He had decided she would be Amethyst Star, and he even tried to be a dad-imposter too. Even the scary changelings from her old storybooks did more to disguise themselves to ponies.

Her storybooks were old because they were at her father's.

She was old now, too, and it was all Dinky's fault.

Only older sisters wore braces that swallowed up smiles. They weren't fun little fillies prancing through the market, and in class big-big sisters weren't big enough to be noticed by a teacher who could always choose eight other colts over her. All the As on her report cards were now silent instead of announced with cheers because she did not know how to talk like the other fillies did in class. That was the long and short of it, as her father would have said.

He would say that because Sparkler did not write to him about her braces.

Her spelling bee medals dwindled into nothing. Her math tests bore the As of unannounced screams when she hung them up on the fridge without saying anything.

All her Ponyville friends helped inspire newer sections of new notebooks. She could learn how to talk and talk without ever saying anything.

Cementing the practice would be how she could barely cling to negotiating cherry prices anymore. Her voice would slip into something quieter, mirroring what she used when her thoughts flipped to having to introduce herself to somepony, unsure of what name to give - only because they would ask.

(And that would be just like when creeping nerves tippy-hoofed up on her, and right before she tells somepony her name, her mouth will move just like it should if there were braces to hide long after they were off.)

When her family was so snug and happy, why didn't she have some cozy family name tacked onto her own?

Was she supposed to be... Amethyst Sparks, Amy Sparks, Amethyst Star, Amy Star, Amy Doo, Amethyst Doo, Sparkler, or-

...

Sparkler - and she was Sparkler because it still stuck - hadn't realized that Compass Star would depart sooner than her braces. She still hadn't set hoof in the high school classes offered by Ponyville's schoolhouse. He was already gone, and baby Dinky Doo still hadn't been weaned.

All he had left was another bad name for Sparkler.

...

Mail runs became longer for Sparkler's mother. Bubbly Doo took dawn to dusk when she could, and Sparkler never voiced how much she worried if her mother had enough of her bubbly, optimistic spirit to last through those runs. She wrote her postcards from the dining room table and did her homework there as long as she could. When she didn't invite classmates over for tutoring - if they had the bits - then she would do what she could to take care of Dinky.

However tiny the filly was, cans of mashed fruits and veggies still vanished into her faster than Sparkler imagined lost souls wandering into Tartarus. Her father's allowance went to fund the abrupt gap left by a runaway pegasus and the daughter he left.

Sparkler never even got to buy a first saddle, dress, or splurge on the latest indulgences for a filly of her age. She never exchanged any word with her mother about how not a single bit meant for Sparkler herself was being kept for her personal use at all.

Instead of ever hearing from Compass again, Sparkler and her mother received a sealed scroll from Canterlot some months after the awful rush. Bubbly's disability bits had increased in sum. Everything had been reviewed by the princess, and Sparkler and her mother could pause for what felt like the first time in many notebook pages.

(Sparkler always considered how she hadn't done nearly as much hoofwork compared to her mother. Was it really any different from how some ponies would still take one look at her and ask if she knew how similar she was to Twilight Sparkle? When she would only stand, nod, and reluctantly admit so? That, of course, she looks just like the princess? At least now that Twilight was a princess, they weren't mistaken that much any longer.)

...

Sparkler threw herself into fashion and cutie mark hunting when she had every chance. Her high school classes settled over her like a blanket replacing the weighted one she had to bear supporting Dinky, who found their mother to be the center of her toddler world. Her older half-sister held only the feelings that somepony would offer a favored piece of furniture, and even that was a stretch. Free time was suddenly abundant for Sparkler, who tried everything she could to make up for all the missed sleepovers, Scout trips, and anything else that slipped from schedule when she was managing everypony else.

Her fashions were plucked from the latest Canterlot magazines, or the thriftier equivalents she could find in Ponyville. A young mare named Rarity was already selling her own couture from a newly renovated shop all her own. If she hadn't made it clear she wasn't looking for any assistants, Sparkler would have sold her well-styled purple locks for a chance to work with her. The organization and sophistication of Miss Rarity radiated from her every routine and creation. Even the way she displayed her bejeweled headbands was worth praising!

The Filly Scouts weren't looking for troop leaders, nor were Seasonal Wrap-Up ponies needed staffed all year. For how small in population Ponyville was, there was so much utter chaos getting anypony to have a well-run wrap-up of any kind - even when the terrain surrounding town wasn't factored in.

Sparkler could only look around her and see how many ponies stood tall or had helped her in her life. Everypony in her family, save young Dinky, had put just one step in front of her or given her a shove in a better direction. Had anypony called it late-bloomer's syndrome, Sparkler wouldn't have cared. High school loomed and she had no cutie mark. She had no way to really keep herself busy beyond idle hobbies and anything she felt was tapping into a facet of what she was capable of. But it was only a facet! Any paper that flew from the clacks of her mail-ordered typewriter or quill was uninspired as of late... that was where potential had to be buried, she guessed.

That want was how she found herself standing on the wrap-around balcony of Ponyville's town hall, rap-rap-rapping away. With every time she brought the knocker down, she drew in a deep breath. Focus. Oh goodness, she needed it. She'd spent her efforts into putting everything she could into a proper portfolio that could be expected of any student-craving-purpose blank flank.

Her mother was bright with laughter, Dinky with innocence, and her father shone with prestige and talent. All her Ponyville friends had a gleaming array of full Scout badges that marked them a talented counselor-in-the-making. A senior. An accomplished young mare. Everypony she cared about was sparkly rhinestone in place like the ones that dotted the headband so neatly tucked in her mane.

Sparkler wanted to be bright too, just something more than a hopeful. The badges she had secured were pinned snugly to the sash in her saddlebags, her binders were a breeze to sort through, her gray skirt was freshly-ironed, and every single Celestia-forsaken paper she had that demonstrated some skill in focus and organization was wrangled and sorted to the utmost degree. So, what if her ace-archer Filly Scout badges amounted to little? Or her headband wasn't professional enough? Or her tie wasn't knotted exactly how the mayor wished it? She had proof she could plan parties, tame messy desks, oh she could-

The door was pulled open mid-knock and peering down at Sparkler was the Mayor Mare herself. Her silvery coif was well-kept by what Sparkler suspected was bewitchment, for not a hair was out of place and it was so early in the morning. She peered at Sparkler from behind her half-moon glasses with such controlled confusion, Sparkler knew she had to have been startled to find out where the racket was coming from. The Mayor Mare herself coming to get town hall's door was hardly a different gesture than a Mayor Stallion demanding to know the source of such noise.

"Now, little pony... you're Bubbly's eldest, aren't you?"

Sparkler nodded quickly, smiling.

The Mayor blinked. Was that a bad sign? "Well, something particular has brought here. Please, step inside."

Sparkler opened her mouth to offer thanks for the kind invitation immediately, only for the Mayor to wave her hoof, beckoning. "There's no need to thank me until we can get you out of this summer heat. Dear, I'm afraid that your name escapes me; however, many times I've seen you around town it lingers just on the tip of my tongue, and not every filly's name comes to mind so easily."

Drawing in a breath, the purple filly was awash in a moment of anxiety that had been yanked upon her so suddenly, as a miscast butterfly net would be. There were so many names she could give, and only one would be her own. She knew that. As a blaze of memory galloped through the forefront of her mind, bringing an array of places she had been in her life, and all the names attached.

Whichever she spoke, that would be the one she would shine brightest using. No matter how her heart had told her so many different things at so many different times, she could at least summon up her own name. Her best name. She had to.