Sorry (Seems To Be The Hardest Word)

by Impossible Numbers

Ombra Di Dubbio

Sour Sweet was not enjoying recess. Namely, she wasn’t busy sneering at other students’ fashion tastes. Instead, she sat fuming in her corner of the cafeteria.

“Can you believe I got five detentions?” she complained.

On the opposite side of the table, Sugarcoat wiped her glasses. “Is that question for emotional support,” she droned, “or do you want a real answer?”

“Tch, why do I even ask?”

Next to Sugarcoat, Lemon Zest lowered her sketchbook. “Dude, we must be swapping karma or some stuff! When Cinch was in charge, I was always getting detentions. Now Cadence is in the hot seat, you’re getting all my detentions. How does it feel!?”

“Yeah,” said Sunny Flare, who as usual sat next to Sour Sweet like a twin sister. “I’m pretty sure karma doesn’t work that way.”

“But it could, right?”

Sunny rolled her eyes. “Right. Get back to your doodling, Lemon.”

“Kay yay!”

“Well honestly, what did you expect?” Sunny returned to the imperative task of brushing her eyelashes whilst using her wrist device as a mirror. “You acted out. Cinch didn’t care, Cadence does. Tough break.”

Sour Sweet held out a hand for the eyelash brush. “Yeah, well, it was totally worth it. Lovejoy always had it out for me.”

“Dear, everyone had it out for you. It’s what you got for talking back, for starters.”

“Cadence’s choices are a complete joke!”

“Pretty funny stuff, though, right!?” Indigo Zap landed hard on her seat, knocking the table and nearly spilling her lunch over everyone else’s. “Heheh, Lovejoy’s not getting much joy out of love, am I riiiiiight!?”

No one else laughed.

“Hilarious,” said Sunny carelessly.

“Well, you all laughed earlier,” muttered Sour Sweet.

Awkwardly, Lemon shrugged. “In the classroom, yeah. It was kinda funny. But… now…”

Sour Sweet looked at them all as if she’d never met them before. “Cadence is getting to you, isn’t she?”

“You were the one complaining Cinch was an out-of-touch tyrant,” droned Sugarcoat.

“That’s different.”

“Not really. Now you complain Cadence is an interfering tyrant.”

Growling, Sour Sweet flopped against her backrest. They were the Shadowbolts, the team beyond all teams, the cream of the crop, the enemy’s nightmare. Something had gone sour the last few months, though, and she was sure it wasn’t her. She was pretty sure it wasn’t her. Over 50%, at any rate…

They were normally so reliable. Even under the puffy-wuffy pillow of Cadence’s care, there was something fundamentally spiky about the Shadowbolts. If they’d ever gone to see the greatest cinematic romance of all time, they still would’ve ended up mocking it, sleeping through it, pointing out the plot holes, or (in Lemon’s case) trying to change the channel within five minutes.

It had made Sour Sweet proud. They didn’t leave the world alone to read a dumb book; they barged into its room, tore the book away, pinned it down, and shouted, “NOTICE ME!” It was what got her out of bed most mornings.

And now it just wasn’t working. The Professor Lovejoy stuff about the boyfriends had been A-class material, but no one else had talked about it since. Not like they normally would. There seemed to be an unwritten rule now.

Instead, talk switched elsewhere.

Lemon kept on sketching whilst she talked. “Hey, did anyone catch last night’s episode of ‘Who’s My Friend?’ Canter Zoom was on the panel!”

Sunny sneered. “I don’t watch tacky game shows.” Then she noticed Lemon’s expression and added, rather nervously, “But… I guess I could… start.”

“What are you even doing?” said Sour Sweet, who was getting annoyed by the scratching of Lemon’s pencil. “And what’s with the open textbook?” She pointed at the copy of The Old Man and the See-Saw.

“Brain thinging,” said Lemon, not looking up. “You know the saying ‘A picture’s worth a thousand words’?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh oh,” whispered Sunny, with a small smile that vanished nervously.

“Well,” continued Lemon, “supposing you drew a picture of a thousand words? Then, if each word is technically a picture, that must mean each word is worth a thousand words. So what do ya got? A picture worth a million words!”

Once the concepts of logic and common sense had been adjusted for a “Lemon” setting, Sour Sweet’s brain stopped hurting so much.

“Um…?” said Indigo Zap. “Way to go, dude?”

“I can see you’ve thought this through very carefully,” said Sunny.

“Is it much fun on Planet Weirdo?” snapped Sour Sweet.

Trick pulled off, Lemon grinned at her smugly. “Better than Planet Frowny-Face.”

After a while, Sour Sweet realized she was getting really sick of the sound of tapping feet. “Sugarcoat, what are you doing under the table?”

Sugarcoat immediately stopped. “Ballet practice. I’m practising my footwork.”

“Well, do you mind? It’s getting on my nerves. Some of us don’t have practice to look forward to later on. Some of us have detentions to deal with.”

“You wouldn’t have, if you didn’t keep tormenting the new teachers.”

Sour Sweet looked up sharply, but then thought better of it. In a rational butt-kicking contest, going up against Sugarcoat would be like going up against a porcupine: she wouldn’t be fazed, and you’d only end up with a load of barbs in your leg. She simply didn’t have room to be intimidated, or embarrassed, or anything remotely overemotional.

So Sour Sweet rounded on Sunny. “You’re sane. You explain to her why this is all – What are you doing?”

A sapphire eye stopped jangling: Sunny took her hand away from her earring. “Like it? They’re gold-framed with Ancient Somnambulan royal markings. I call them ‘Pharaonic Statement’.”

Deep inside Sour Sweet, a little girl who’d once bonded over jewellery gazed back in starry-eyed awe. Around her, however, several layers of flint bristled.

“What lovely earrings!” she trilled. In an undertone, she added, “If you want ears that stare back.”

“That’s not all they do. Watch.”

Sunny held up a second sapphire earring, pressed the eye-like gemstone in the centre, and then lowered it to the floor and slid it across. As one, the Shadowbolts watched it slip neatly under a distant table where three girls and a boy were chatting excitedly.

From Sunny’s ear came the faint mumblings of recorded conversation.

“Two-way radio,” explained Sunny. “Perfect for a little eavesdropping.”

“Ears-dropping!” Indigo Zap beamed.

“Quite,” said Sunny. Then she caught sight of Lemon’s eyebrow. “And for… contacting friends, if necessary. I do love a multifunctional accessory.”

Sugarcoat watched the distant table. “That seems like a good way to get them smashed.”

Seconds later, an errant foot from one of the girls hit the floor hard. Sunny yelped and yanked her earring off; they all heard the sharp crack, as of a two-way radio suddenly hitting static and falling silent.

Sniffing, Sunny fished a third earring out of her pocket. “Lucky for me, I always have a backup.”

“Why’d you want to eavesdrop on them?” said Indigo.

“Well, keep it under your hat –” Sunny glanced up at Indigo’s head. “– or goggles, but I heard Jet Set and Upper Crust are dating.”

This awakened a flurry of interest around the table, except for Sugarcoat, who merely looked less sleepy.

“Noooooo!” crowed Lemon.

“Yeeeaaah,” crowed Sunny back.

“What’s so surprising about that?” said Sour Sweet, despite her own pink stirrings in what passed for her soul. “Everyone could see it.”

“What, like, actually dating dating?” said Indigo, craning to see.

“Awww, but aren’t they just perfect for each other?” Sour Sweet patted Sunny’s hand. “Do you think they’ll –?”

“Absolutely. No one can stick their noses up in the air like those two. They’re soulmates.”

“Cool,” said Indigo. Then she grabbed Sunny’s arm and tapped the touchscreen display. “This thing have P.E.G.?”

“Er…” said Sunny Flare. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to watch the Grand Pegasus Prix! They’re starting in five minutes!”

Growling, Sunny Flare yanked her arm away. “Then get your own D-Cannon. You’ve got the money.”

“Dad cut off my allowance! After I bought that yacht last month! He said if I could afford a Wind Rider, I could afford to start my own software company.”

“Oh, you must be so hard-done-by,” muttered Sour Sweet.

“What? I can’t help it if my family’s rich.”

“Thanks for offering us a ride, by the way.”

“I told you guys already; Dad won’t allow it. He says private is private is private. Anyway, last time we had a party on Dad’s yacht, he said we left stains where there shouldn’t be any stains –”

“Shush, shush! He’s coming!” hissed Lemon urgently.

They didn’t need telling. The room had suddenly darkened.

A massive form shuffled among the tables. Grim scratchings marked the raking of the crystalline floor by a broom that had doubtless been hacked away from the elder branches of a graveyard yew at midnight. Rumblings grumbled as the dustpan clanked on hinges of iron, snapped up the errant scraps of Pharaonic Statement, and conveyed them as a mortal sacrifice to the yawning pit of the portable garbage can.

The effect was ruined by the squeaky wheel as his trolley went past.

Only once the room had brightened did they relax.

“That janitor,” droned Sugarcoat, “is creepy.”

“You’re not kidding!” Lemon gasped. “I heard he once caught a student trying to carve her initials into the bathroom door, and then he picked her up with one hand, opened his black pit of despair, and –”

“Garbage can,” corrected Sugarcoat.

Lemon gave the scowl of a good storyteller heckled by an inferior audience. “He’s pure evil!”

“I bet he stalks people after school,” whispered Sunny, shivering.

“And mugs them for coffee mugs,” said Indigo.

“What?”

“I broke into his janitor’s closet once. He had loads of chipped mugs.”

“Maybe he’s a runaway warlord in hiding,” said Lemon.

“Or an ex-con,” droned Sugarcoat.

“Or a thug,” said Sunny.

“Or an international jewellery thief!” said Indigo.

They all looked at Sour Sweet, who scowled back.

“He’s just some guy, you know?” she scoffed. “Listen to yourselves. You don’t make up stuff to make him look bad. You snoop through his stuff and look for evidence that he’s bad. Then you put him in his place.”

Irritably, Sunny backhanded her arm.

“What?” said Sour Sweet, rubbing the spot.

“I wouldn’t boast about that sort of thing, if I were you.”

“What, I should make up stuff out of nowhere like you weirdos, you mean?”

They scowled at each other, then looked away from each other and idly tapped their own lunch trays.

“‘Put him in his place’,” repeated Sugarcoat. It didn’t sound any better in a dull monotone.

Lemon groaned. “We’re really screwed-up, aren’t we?”

Moodily, Sour Sweet took a swig of grape juice from her plastic cup. “Speak for yourselves,” she grumbled.

“Er, excuse me?” said Sunny; she made a noise between a cough and a laugh. “We’ve handed out our apologies already.”

“Like when?”

“Like… last week? When we said we would?” She noticed Lemon’s cocked head. “Except for Lemon, who did hers a month ago.”

“Yeah,” said Lemon, fidgeting on her seat and putting her pencil behind an ear. “That was… fun.”

Sour Sweet felt four unfriendly gazes weighing down on her. It wasn’t fair. They’d all bullied and picked on people whenever they felt they could get away with it. What made her so special…?

Guilt laughed in her skull. Of course she was “special”. The worst the others had done was passively treat people like Twilight Sparkle with barely disguised contempt. Sunny and Sugarcoat had preferred to keep their distance. Indigo had largely acted like Twilight was letting the team down. Only Lemon had treated Twilight as halfway human, even though, e.g., Twilight had no idea who The Nightmare Moon Wish even were, or what their number one hit from three years ago had been. But at least she’d tried.

Sour Sweet, though? To her, Twilight – apologetic, awkward, overly nice and sickeningly polite Twilight – had been some kind of personal insult. And Sour Sweet paid back insults with interest.

She wished she could go back in time and slap herself.

“So…?” said Indigo.

“I’m working up to it!” shouted Sour Sweet.

Sunny snorted. “Right, because saying ‘I’m sorry’ needs so much rehearsal –”

“Back! Off!”

A hush of outrage washed around the circle. The Shadowbolts would sneer at the idea of team loyalty, but even in their twisted hearts, there were some things you just didn’t do.

Sugarcoat cleared her throat. “It’s no good lashing out at us,” she droned. “All you’re doing is projecting your own inadequacies onto other people and doubling down on your own antisocial behaviour. It’s classic reactionary overcompensation. You’re just refusing to let go of the same maladapted behaviours that have seen you through the last few years. You can’t say sorry to your past victims because you won’t let go of your old persona. It’s a fundamental identity crisis.”

After a careful pause, Indigo jerked a thumb in her direction. “What she said.”

“She means you’re stuck, dude,” said Lemon.

Gently, Sunny patted Sour Sweet’s hand, which was trying to help grip the rest of Sour Sweet in a tight self-embrace. “Look, Cadence is better than Cinch. That’s all there is to it.”

“Tarn dooting!” said Lemon. “We’ve never had it so good, man. Maybe it’s time you let it go? Say sorry to Twilight. Everyone else has.”

“It wasn’t easy for us either,” droned Sugarcoat, “but if we can do it, logically you can too.”

Sour Sweet’s lip trembled. It trembled some more because she was fighting to hide it.

“Yeah, yeah, I get your point,” she said.

“You scared, yeah?” said Indigo.

Sour Sweet broke out of her own embrace with fists and gritted teeth. She didn’t do anything else for a while. Then, the geyser of fury ran dry; Sour Sweet collapsed into a sullen little world of her own.

“Huh,” said Sunny as though the entertainment was over. “Guess everyone’s got issues. Come on. Class is about to start.”

Patiently, Sour Sweet let them all leave first. To make sure she was left alone. She was trying not to think about Twilight, but she couldn’t hide from her own thoughts.

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Comments

[Eroraf86]

Have I ever mentioned that Sugarcoat is the best? Because she is.