The Wallflower Blush Experience

by King Genesis

Rookie: Cider

Volume 1 - Chapter 3 - Rookie - Cider

5:00 AM - Day X + 1

I slept, but not for too long. I woke up at half past three in the morning and I can't get out of my head the feeling of my eyes burning as if they were two flames. I couldn't even finish reading Daring Do's new chapter because of how dizzy I have been feeling since that moment.

I had that stupid phrase spinning around my head for almost three hours. It vanishes and then comes back, ten minutes later.

"If you want me to be honest, Thunderhooves... she was kinda cute."

I don't even know if he was talking about me but... if he was, then I think it would be the first time someone that is not my aunt forcing herself to be nice says that I'm... I can't even say that word. The c-word... c-u-t-e. Gosh, when I was in High School people wouldn't even look at me, I was just a ghost passing by... I wouldn't have ever imagined someone calling me cute. I've got to be honest, I never thought I would get this far on the road (you can laugh, I'm doing it).

I've been moving my back all over the untidy bed for over an hour. It's time to get up, I think. I can't sleep and there's no other thing to do, I'm tired of thinking the same thing over and over... even if it has the c-word involved in it. I may have an hour left until the alarm goes on and my new day as a Sugarcube Corner assistant begins, and I expect to have my pathetic breakfast alone while hanging out with the few sunbeams that come out from the window that is covered by the blinds that I won't open... but no. None of that is possible, neither the lonely breakfast nor the closed blinds, because once I open the door to see if there are any monkeys or ninjas out there, I find out one of the blinds has been already opened. Guess who is up tonight? Ta-da!

I look at the one who did that: my beloved aunt appears once more in the hall using his avant-garde, revolutionary new attire: disheveled hair, then her face with no sunglasses but eye boogers!! and a light-blue dressing gown that has a pastel tone which makes me... sick. Nowadays I don't get on too well with those pastel things. I try to hide from her but it's too late. "Mmh?" is the first thing she says, touching her eyes. The system is still booting. "G'morning..."

I want to pretend that I'm about to fall asleep, acting like a patient on a hospital bed but my brain is working like an industrial machine, you know why... and I can't do my play very well right now. "Hi," I say, heading to the bathroom and covering my eyes from the open blind.

"Why're you awake? It's not even 6 o'clock." I barely hear her attenuated voice while looking at my face in the mirror. I expected myself to have bigger eye bags and much more pale skin. I'm honestly surprised, is it because I told myself that someone actually said something about me?

The only thing that comes to my mind to say is: "I can't sleep." That may be the most stupid excuse I could have given to her, but what else can I say? I don't want to tell her what happened last night, just not. What if she laughs at me? Or begins to mock me with that? "Oh, hey... if you don't put the patch in yer arms I'm gonna call yer boy! Hehehe!" and I would be like "No! No! I don't like that boy!"... The thing she would probably do the most is telling me that he wasn't talking about me. He didn't say anything about a weird girl with long green hair standing on the third floor. It may be the truth but... I don't want to hear the truth from her. How can I still remember their names? Thorax, Ember, Thunderhooves.

She has finished taking that crust off her eyes. She's approaching the full process of waking up. "Well, from what I saw when I arrived home..." I look at her while she is yawning and my back is getting cold. "It was almost 12 AM and you were sleeping with the notebook on the edge of your bed... it was still on."

Whoops, I forgot to turn it off... maybe she saw the drawing of a fire dragon fighting against a woman dressed like a safari. Did I fall asleep without knowing? That's a plot twist. "Oh, I don't remember... where is the notebook right now?"

She covers her mouth again, about to yawn, and I focus on the silence in the house at this right moment. I'm not hearing anything from outside the bathroom and the hall except for her, something different in comparison to last night. "I left it on the kitchen table... make sure to turn it off next time, would you?"

I nod once again. "Yes." I don't even want to say something else, and my aunt is still asleep so she doesn't have the strength to discuss it. I know her.

"I'll make coffee and a toast," she turns around. "Tell me if you want."

I don't want to have breakfast with somebody else this morning. It's still not the day! "I'll later catch something else." Then I look at the bath. "I'll take the shower now."

Her neck moves like she is being filmed in slow motion. "OK," is the only thing she responds, "but you're going to have breakfast, girl. I don't..." Here we go again. She yawns while I head out of the bathroom. "I don't want you to leave home without eating a cookie or drinking a glass of something."

"Of course not..." I say, rolling my eyes and turning on the lights in my room. I almost lose my eyes... how many times I do turn on those lights per day? One? Two? Jeez, my bed actually looks like a painting because of how depressing it feels.

"You need to clean that room."

Not another commentary of my room, please! "I'll do it. Soon."

She shakes her head. "I mean now."

"I'll do it, I'll do it... but first," gosh, the lights are blinding me. "Let me take the bath."

---

6:15 AM - Day X + 1

My aunt and I hardly have fluid conversations in the morning. She speaks and I listen... sometimes I share my opinion divided into small, monotonous sentences and then I shut my mouth. I appear again in the kitchen and this time I'm acting differently, especially because my right arm has also another nicotine patch that feels like a parasite, and the silk of this blue dress is annoying me again. My whole back is itching and the only thing I'm doing is standing like an asshole while clenching my fists. Now she has her normal bowl haircut and sunglasses while buttoning a big black coat. Fashion nowadays is something special. "I expect you tidied your bed, at least."

Uh... I did it, but honestly, the bedsheets may have more tales to tell than both of us. I have to swap them for newer ones. "I did."

"You also need to change your bedsheets." Damn! She found my hidden trick. "And please, we need to check out those wardrobes you have. Not today, not this week but... ASAP."

... No. I can't even think about my breakfast after what she has said. "What did you just say?" I turn my back and look at her, standing with her coat, sunglasses, and some ripped dark jeans. She only raises her shoulders.

"You've heard me. We have to take a look at those wardr---"

"No, no. Did you really say ASAP?" Last time I heard that slang if I can call it like that... I didn't even have 16 at that time. Come on.

"A model of mine couldn't stop saying that during yesterday's photoshoot..." she sits on a chair and touches her forehead. "I can't stop saying that right now... goddamn, it's like glue."

Uh, influences... I open the fridge and look at my menu. There is orange juice... I can drink a glass of it and then eat a fruit or something else. I don't see any leftovers. "I don't wanna be in your position during those new fashion photoshoots," I tell her, and it's true. "Most of those models are just annoying, selfish bimbos."

She chuckles... oh, I made my aunt laugh, this is part of history. "I don't like the word bimbo, girl, but... yeah, a small part of them are annoying... but they are not unbearable!" she shakes her head. "You can calm every model down easily by just turning on a camera and asking for a pose." I grab the orange juice bottle while she softly taps the floor with her shiny black high-heels that look like two minivans. "There are people which are more unbearable... do you know who I can stand the less?"

For a second my skin freezes, fearing she may say some kind of thing that will make my hips break in half... but then I remember my aunt is not that kind of classist. At least she is not like that boyfriend Blue, you know who I'm referring to... "Who?" I say while grabbing a glass. "Skinheads?" is the first thing that comes into my mind. It's a disgusting word for her and I know why. He-he-he.

She covers her mouth. "Oh, lord, Wallflower, don't remind me of those... firstly, we are not in the 70s, girl, and secondly, I know you told me that to remind me I dated a skinhead in my 20s." I laugh while grabbing my prize, a glass of orange juice. "However, girl... those guys I'm talking about actually look like skinheads... I think they might be."

I raise my eyebrows while hearing that, expecting her to explain further. I'm drinking my juice with enthusiasm, I cannot believe it. Is she referring to a new generation of bald men with leather jackets and rotten teeth?

... or is she talking about someone else? Some guys who walk at night, wear all black... and speak aloud... No, wait, wait. I'm mixing things. It's like sticks and stones. I'm putting chocolate over vanilla... wait, what's that phrase?

"Which guys?" I ask while covering my mouth. My arm is actually shaking, this is incredible.

"You may have heard them once, or twice..." she says, touching her coat. "Those assholes are always shouting aloud at night on the sidewalk. Our sidewalk. I don't know why they hang out there. Do they want to piss us off?"

She must be talking about them... or, maybe, about other guys who are doing the same exact thing as them? She also hasn't mentioned any girl, and yesterday I saw Ember with my own eyes... wow, I'm still actually surprised that I remember her name. "Really?" I say. "I haven't heard any shouts."

"Well, it does not surprise me from you," she says. I mentally roll my eyes while holding my glass. "You're always with your headphones and your notebook in the darkness, but you know that last night I came across Gilda and she spat me her rant about those stupid boys wandering around the corner again, and she told me they talked about some kind of stupid magical story and I don't know..."

Stupid magical story. Wait a second... Not only Daring Do the Knightess is anything but a stupid magical story but also... Am I actually getting nearer to what I'm thinking? Is she talking about them? "I haven't heard anything... I..." Just smile. "I closed my eyes and then I..." I scratch my back and look at how my legs are trying to stay straight with this unbearable dress. "...I fell asleep, that's it. I've got to go."

"Wait, you haven't eaten anything yet... get something. Orange juice is not---"

I know, miss, but I need to go right now... I need to think, aunt. "I'll get something at work. I can have it."

Nope. "I could have given you some toasts, Wallflower..."

"It's OK. I told you I didn't want to."

She stands up and moves the chair while I grab my keys. "I'm trying to give you a proper breakfast, Wallflower. You can't go out without eating something, at least." I don't know what to do while holding the keys in my hand. Shall I go out in silence? She washes her hands on the sink and I'm still thinking about what she said. "Besides, I want to tell you something else."

No. I don't want to discuss something at this time. I'm about to fall asleep again. "If it's about the breakfast, I promise you I will--"

"It's not about the breakfast," she turns off the tap. "It's something I wanted to tell you last night but you were asleep."

My empty hand gets into a fist and hides behind my waist while I clench my teeth... what is she talking about? Something that she has been chewing since last night? Why didn't she tell me before? Will she talk about what I was reading in my notebook, maybe? I'll just say it's only a stupid magical story, as she says. "What?" I'm about to put the key into the lock.

She takes a long breath while slowly taking her sunglasses off. "The chat we had about those boys delayed my small speech. I want to say something about the discussion we had yesterday, you know? When I told you that you didn't have to care about what your former partners of the club---"

Argh, it's like spreading salt over the wound. "Yes, I remember." I try not to look at her the whole time. I just... do it for a second and then look at the door.

"I recognize I sounded a bit tactless by saying that because I know that still hurts you. I just want to say that I didn't want to make you mad like that."

... There's this feeling of guilt I cannot swallow. Yes, I can't forgive my aunt for what she did along with my mother when I was a child... but she is the only one that wakes me up every day, and I just want to get out. I only want that. I only want, as I said yesterday, to get out of this shit... not without saying something before. "It's OK." I put the key on the lock. "I shouldn't have raised the roof like that. I went mad but..." I open the door. "... I know you didn't want to hurt me." I take a step into the hall. If somebody actually heard me saying that while opening the door, the horrifying prostitution theories will probably come back, unfortunately, but at least I'll have another fancy time looking at my aunt trying to beat her accuser up with a frying pan. "I've got to go to work. See you later."

She puts her sunglasses on again. She can't leave the house without them... right now, her sight does not look so bright. "See you, Wallflower."

I close the door and head to the elevator. I don't know what to say, I don't know what to feel, I don't know if I have to swallow my spit. I'm not thinking about my aunt or the three guys that were on the sidewalk last night. I'm not even thinking about the c-word. The only thing I have in my mind is what I told myself yesterday. Turns out I have a dream: get out of this shit.

The elevator appears. I enter. I get out.

---

The morning's colder than yesterday this time. I don't even know if we are in winter, autumn, or spring... I'm completely lost at that (it's concerning, I admit). I even feel steam coming out of my mouth while breathing, despite not freezing myself in this stupid blue dress. Sometimes I feel someone will say something to me, catcall me, while using this... but no one actually did. No one ever sees me walking around and I still don't know if I should consider myself lucky or not. The only thing I can say is that if somebody catcalls me, I will try my best to... jump kick at his head, maybe?

My mind's gears stop spinning when I hear something, a voice, coming out from a store. I look at its window and I find out there is a switched-on TV in front of me. I see a yellow sign over one of its corners that reads TVs ON SALE!!! HALF-PRICE! but what actually called my attention comes out from a TV ad I'm looking at right now. I've heard the word trip.

It's half past six in the morning and I'm looking at a guy in an ad, dressed as an airforce pilot holding two tickets. He's smiling and starts speaking like a robot: "This is the ultimate message for all of the consumers of Sweet Apple Acres..."

Sweet Apple Acres? The company that sells cider and apples? Something that I will never see in Ms. Photo Finish's home. It's not the first time I hear from her mouth that she hates cider.

"Listen. All of the cider bottles you will be buying this week now have a mysterious five-digit number under their caps." He grabs a cider bottle which looks gross but interesting, opens it, and shows the bottom of the plastic cap. It has a black, five-digit number. 14268. "This is the thing, my apple eater..." he chuckles. "If you find the correct number, the one winner, you will have your reward, traveler!" He shows the tickets. "You and your partner can have the opportunity to visit the core of the apple! You can win these two tickets to Appleloosa City! Ha-ha-ha!" He throws the tickets away. "The journey has begun!"

The video cuts and a white screen appears. Then a black text says: We do like playing games... Sweet Apple Acres.

That may have been the worst TV ad I've ever seen. I have to clean my eyes now after seeing this... horrifying project. However, swallowing that whole advertisement left me with something else that is not disgust or plastic-flavored cider. I ask myself, how far is Appleloosa from Canterlot? I know it's not the most beautiful city in the country but... I think it's far away from this town.

What if I try? Shall I try this, at least? I don't spend my salary so I can afford a couple of cider bottles and I can tell myself to drink them behind my aunt's nose, then I grab the caps and keep them for myself until I have the winner. If I do win, I can use the ticket to finally get out and go to Appleloosa, or well, maybe I can stop during the middle of the trip and look for something in Manehattan or somewhere else, there have to be too many small towns around the capital... I can also give the other ticket to... I don't know honestly, the first option I have in my mind is my aunt but what if I tell Coco about this and she says yes? Maybe she also wants to try another town--- wait, wait, wait...

I feel like I woke up again as if I were a diver coming out of the water. I look at my face in a puddle that goes to the sewers, located on a street corner. The traffic lights are red. I almost crossed the street with the cars still running. My mind was working like a machine again.

I look at the traffic lights, waiting for them to turn green, and I realize the cider idea is actually stupid as hell. I see that plastic bottle of cider the man in the ad was holding in my mind and I think of a toxic chemical all over my mouth, killing me. I can't drink a single glass of that... how could I drink bottles of it? Besides, what about the other ticket? The only thing I can do with it is shove it up right my ass because neither my aunt nor Coco would want to go with me. My aunt will tell me to go fuck myself, and Coco... why would I even tell her this? No, the more I think about it, the more I realize this is not the dream I want. I need Sand Trap's Dodge, and I need to drive it in the night, getting out of Canterlot, leaving all of my problems aside. I wish that was possible.

That's what I need.

---

6:50 AM - Day X + 1 - Sugarcube Corner

Luckily I can open the door on my own this time because right now Pinkie Pie is cleaning all of the tables at an impressive speed. I repeat again, I don't know what could we do or how could we even survive without her. "Good morning, Wallflower!" she shouts while holding a big table in the air with just one arm. I seriously don't understand how does she do this.

"Blush!" Mrs. Cake is standing behind the cashier. "Thank Star Swirl you are here, girl. You'll have to take over this little box by now... Coco will not be here today."

Oh... goddamn. Zero points. I didn't hit on the spot. I turn my neck back to the entrance door and think about getting off the ship. "Wait!" suddenly I hear from inside the kitchen. Mr. Cake with a dirty apron and sweat all over his face comes out and waves his hand to salute me. He looks at his wife. "Did you tell her about... tonight?"

Mmm... I don't like that tone of his. They are hiding something I don't want to hear. Mrs. Cake sighs and puts her arms over the cashier, looking at me with concern. "We've already told Pinkie Pie, and I promise this will be only for this day, no more."

My pupils shrink as I slowly approach them. Don't tell me I have to dress as a cupcake and hold a sign on the street corner. "Something happened?" Are they about to fire me? Would that be... good or bad for me?

Mrs. Cake only smiles while her husband is combing his hair with his hands. "No, no... there's nothing wrong. We just... had a problem with our kids." She shakes her head. "The babysitter called us an hour ago and told us that she couldn't look after Pound and Pumpkin after 6 PM." Goosebumps. Are they... no, no, it's just a thought of mine. Why would they tell me to babysit two little kids? "I know that you always leave at 6, but this time, now that Coco is not here, we seriously need your help. We can't leave Pinkie alone until 9 despite everything she does. Of course, we will pay you for those extra hours, so don't worry about that. It's just for one day... could you do it for us?"

I have a big lump in my throat right now. I don't know what to say, and I wonder why my response to every situation where I'm in is to run away. Despite Coco is not here, and I desperately want to get out of the store, I'm feeling guilty for not looking at Mrs. Cake in her eyes. If I run away and leave, not only I may get fired (maybe not, but who knows), but I'll worsen their problem. They are right, Pinkie can't be alone, no matter how good she is at her job. I have to be here... at least I'm not being left aside, isn't it? Maybe if I go back home at 6 my aunt will probably not be there and I will be alone in the darkness of my room, surfing the web. Maybe the three, Thorax, Ember, and... and... Thunderhooves! I remembered his name... may come back and stay on the sidewalk but what can I do? Shall I talk to them or?... wait. "So... what do you say, girl?" suddenly says Mr. Cake, bringing me back into reality. "The other option is..." he chuckles while looking at her wife. "The other option we have is taking her home and making her the new babysitter..."

I raise my hand with a finger at the same time Mrs. Cake touches her husband's shoulder. "I prefer her to be here," she says. That's actually a blessing for me... being a babysitter is the last thing I dreamt to be, honestly. "Besides, she has Pinkie."

I look at her now, waving her hand and smiling like a hyena while cleaning another table. Oh, lord, this night will be awesome.

I will go for my apron in the kitchen.

4:10 PM - Day X + 1 - Sugarcube Corner

I expected a worse afternoon but turns out I had a little bit of luck left in my purse. I had a pretty peaceful lunch break where I rested, even with Pinkie by my side. I had the opportunity to get out during my 2-hour break but I don't do it often, the fact that I have to come back at the right time bores me and I just don't know what to do. Besides, not too many clients passed through the magical cashier and all of them didn't even interact with me. I shared with everyone ten seconds of my time to make a simple deal: They give me the money, and I give them their change. It's simple and I don't complain about it, but in fact, I should have to be the one that has to welcome the clients and ask for their orders instead of the one person who is always standing next to the door and scanning each one of the customers with her robotic eyes while playing with her pink poofy hair.

I've already said what I think about Pinkie Pie. I'm glad she exists because I don't do most of the things I should do thanks to her... but at the same time, I feel useless when I look at her. She looks just like a marionette, perfectly designed to work as a waitress. She has been always like that since I met her... charismatic, extroverted, delightful, annoyingly funny but also unbearably supportive, and I don't forget the fact she always opens the door for me when I come out... Pinkie, I thank you for doing this for me, showing me the support I never had in High School, but I know how to open a door. You don't have to do this for me all the time.

The other thing that surprised me during my afternoon is that I didn't even think too much about the triad. Yeah, now I call them the triad. I'm still shocked about the mysterious Thorax using the c-word, better known as cute, but the more I think about it, the less I look at myself being pictured in his mind. What if he looked at Gilda, the woman from the second floor? I mean, she may be ten years older than me and has the temper of a grenade but she is still attractive after all. Something else that I remembered while looking at the tables is that weird man sitting in the corner of the store that I observed for five or ten seconds. It was something magical, I couldn't remember what was he wearing when I was at home and then I easily figured that out while lying over the cashier, and no, I didn't see him in all day. I would have recognized him, maybe. I even told Pinkie to check the corner out at 12 PM during our break to see if it had people sitting on it, just in case... but she said there was nobody sitting over there. Yeah, I recognize that I asked her to do that six hours before the time I saw him the previous day, but I didn't have another opportunity to ask her again. The Cakes and Pinkie are too busy right now.

Maybe he was just a guy sitting in the corner.

"Hey, Blush." Mrs. Cake comes out of the kitchen and looks at me. "Would you like to swap our roles until 6?"

That would be glorious for me. My legs hurt from standing like a statue and touching the cashier since we came back from our break at 1. "I go to the kitchen?" I ask her, curiously.

"Yes... only if you want to," she tells me. "You can still be on the cash. I'm asking you because I wouldn't like to be in front of that cashier until 9 if I were you," she squints her eyes and smiles. "It gets really boring."

And she's right, I'm about to fall asleep again. "You're right. Let's do it."

She smiles at me and nudges me on the back while I am getting into the kitchen... I don't like that kind of touch but I'll let her pass this time... I can also hear a whisper of hers before getting in: "Goddamn, we really need more employees." I agree with you, Mrs. Cake. I agree with you.

"Hey, Blush," I look at Mr. Cake doing the dishes. I open my eyes to the show but I don't get impressed, I'm used to looking at this kitchen broken in half. Looks like an earthquake passed by minutes ago: dishes, saucers, cups, glasses... even the walls are covered by cream, chocolate, and caramel. "Mind if you help me with the dishes?"

"Sure," I whisper. I bet he didn't even hear it. I pass by him and get a look at what I have to do. I will have to clean so many things... come on.

He passes by me and turns around, fixing his apron and looking at one of the ovens. The fan next to me doesn't help so much at lowering the temperature of the pretty small kitchen. He observes what's inside and shakes his head. "It's not ready yet..." he sighs. "We seriously need another cook, or an assistant, at least."

Hell yeah, I know I'm not the best but... haven't you ever wondered about that girl who spins between the cashier and the sink when Coco is not working? They never want me to help them with the pastry, they just don't want me to make, at least, whipped cream for the cakes and the food. Yes, I am not an expert in doing that but... aren't we supposed to practice these things? "I can help you with the oven." I see there are a lot of apples cut in half on another table in the kitchen. "What about that apple pie in the works?"

Then he raises the finger and shakes his head. "No, those apples are something else. I'll stay in the oven while moving the food."

"What if the crust of that pie in the oven gets burned while you are moving that?" I ask him, I'm trying to put a piece in this. "I can--"

He chuckles. "It's OK, Blush, you don't have to. I won't take too long while doing this... besides, I just saw it and it still needs a little bit of time." He raises his thumb while I'm trying to maintain my face. "I appreciate the intention, though."

He turns around again to look at the oven while my bones feel like they are turning to ice. I just... want to check the pie out and see if it is ready, I don't want to pour salt all over it. It's a simple action, I won't ruin the process, I... I have to stop complaining... it's not the first time he or his wife says something like that to me. Shall I accept for once that I won't do it?

I look at the sink filled with dirty dishes and slowly take a look around. There's cream and syrup everywhere... and then I find a strange needle in the haystack. Right behind a used bowl, I can see a plastic bottle on the horizon with an apple sticker on its top. I open the tap to wash my hands and I fastly grab it, reading another sticker on it that says: "THE OFFICIAL CIDER OF SWEET APPLE ACRES". I feel like my hand is grabbing a piece of crap because of how gross this looks, but then I think... what if this bottle has a number on its plastic cap? "Why is there a bottle of this cider on the table?" I ask. Mr. Cake, now standing in front of the fridge, turns his head to look at me and raises an eyebrow.

"Oh," he nods. "I had to finish it in the morning. I bought it two days ago and I forgot that I kept it in this fridge." He laughs while I touch the cap. "You know? They shouldn't sell cider inside those plastic bottles because it makes it taste like some old medication... they should sell them in cans, aluminum!" he shouts. "I think it's the best way to preserve its flavor."

"Or maybe glass bottles," I unconsciously respond. I slowly open the bottle and leave the plastic aside. I'm holding the cap in my closed hand. Shall I try? I ask myself. Is there any possibility that this can give me the chance to win two tickets to Appleloosa? To get out of this shit?

"Mmh... glass? It's a pretty big inversion. Too much to afford. Besides, glass is fragile." I open my hand and look at the bottom of the white cap. It has a number. 01227.

"Zero, one, two... two..."

"Oh! Do you want the cap?" He is checking out the pie in the oven again and shakes his head. "I saw that horrible ad with the Appleloosa trip..." at least I'm not the only one who has a clear opinion about that. "You can keep it, I don't care about the tickets." he closes the fridge after cleaning its freezer. "Do you believe in those things? The plastic cap lottery?" he chuckles. "I call it like that. It's just a game but... people tend to imagine their dreams being granted while looking at that."

I imagined a whole situation since the moment I heard the voice from the ad. I imagined my dream being granted for a second, and those words that came from Mr. Cake's mouth actually hurt me a bit. Is he criticizing that behavior? Or just... recognizing it's senseless? Stupid? I want to be sincere. "No, I don't believe in them. It's just..." Now I think about the ad it's not only something horrible to watch but also stupid to listen to. "It's just something that calls my attention."

He smiles while cleaning the table. "I understand. It's curious, isn't it? It's like a game with a prize, and you play with the plastic caps." I nod my head while slowly putting the cap inside the apron's pocket. I never thought I would get surprised by something that no one else than Mr. Cake said.

---

8:50 PM - Day X + 1 - Sugarcube Corner

8:50. Ten minutes left. I cannot stop looking at the clock hanging in a corner, waiting for the last customer, an old man, to leave. Pinkie gives me his money. The check said $8, so I grab his money and count it: $8. No extra pennies, no change, no conversation. She helps him to get up, an old man with a cane, and leads him to the exit. She's always helping everyone. Every single one, and doesn't ask anything back, doesn't want anything else. It shouldn't surprise me because that's how should we act but... it does, especially when I think about myself.

Once the old man leaves, she is holding the door while I'm looking at the clock one more time. I think it's 8:51 already. I want to leave now. I have to admit the extra hours were better than I expected, though (I didn't do anything, not too many clients around, some kind of pseudo-break, and Pinkie did almost all of the job). She takes a long breath while taking the OPEN sign off the door and throws it at me. I catch it on time and she lets a laugh come out. Then she snaps her fingers and points at me. "That was a great catch!"

Even I don't believe that I caught it on the first try. "Do the Cakes throw the sign to each other while closing?" I jokingly ask.

She raises her shoulders while taking off her apron. I begin to do the same, not before taking my keys, the cellphone I hardly use, and the plastic cap from its pocket. "I hope they do," she says. "It's funny." I enter the kitchen and leave the apron before hearing the sound of someone grabbing a keychain. No, nobody took them from me... I have mine in my closed right hand.

I turn around and I see Pinkie Pie at the kitchen door, holding her keys. She is making an unfunny grin on her face while tapping one of her fingers over a car key on the chain. "I'm taking my car," she says. I raise an eyebrow, not knowing what to expect. "The Pinkiemobile... come on." She starts shaking the keys again. "Let me pick you up and I'll take you to your home. You will be a witness of the first generation of Pinkie Pie...lot!" ...Did she really Pie-lot? "You understand? Pinkie Pie-lot!"

"Yes, I do." Wow. That was a really brutal pun. Besides, no. I don't want her to pick me up. I don't want anybody to know that I'm Photo Finish's niece... and I won't tell anyone, especially Pinkie, that I live in Canterlot Plaza. If she finds out, she'll get so surprised that she would be a time bomb and the Cakes would quickly find out too through her. It would be a massive chain reaction. "Um... I appreciate it, Pinkie, but I'll go home on foot."

At the moment I finished speaking her eyes almost come out of their eyelids. She is also not smiling. "Wait, what?" She puts her hand behind her waist. "Wallflower, don't you know that... between 9 PM and 3 AM, Canterlot's crime rate has a sharp increase of 32%? It goes up and up and up in the scale," she says while raising and raising one of her arms to represent that. "You'll get exposed at a bigger risk while walking on foot." She kneels on the kitchen floor so fastly that it scares me for a second. I can't believe she's actually begging me to accept it. "Let me pick you up and take you home." I... I don't know what to say... but right now I don't want Pinkie Pie to find out that I live in one of the wealthiest buildings in the city. I crouch so we can see our faces, front at front. She's still kneeling to me.

"Pinkie," I tell her, with the best smile I can make on my face. "It's OK. I really appreciate that you want to pick me up, but I prefer to go on foot."

Her eyes start shining. "Why?" she asks. Looks like her hair is getting smoother. "What if somebody tries to attack you and steal your money?"

I remember that nobody talks to me while I'm on the street. It doesn't matter if it's in the morning, afternoon, evening, or midnight. Nobody looks at me, or ever says something to me. I've been the witness to several robberies and stupid street fights but I was always aside. Is it because I'm always left apart? I know that nothing will happen to me this night. Nothing. I feel it. "Nothing will happen to me this night, Pinkie," I shake my head. "No one will see me."

Oops... that last sentence. I didn't want to say it... my bad. Now I can see that I did wrong when Pinkie stands up and looks at me. She covers her mouth. "Is it..." she whispers. "Are you feeling like a ghost again?" Ugh... now we are going back to High School. "Are you feeling bad? You know that you can talk to me if you feel bad! I can help you and I can support you." She pauses. "Come on, let's take a ride in the Pinkiemobile."

Both of us stand up and I can see that her look is genuine. She wants to help me and I don't know what to do. I'm feeling guilty again for not doing anything. For not accepting her offer. "I know you can support me, Pinkie. You're literally helping me all of the time but... but I'm feeling right." Well, I'm not so sure but... I pretend to. "You see?" Why did I say you see? What would she see? Asshole.

She looks at the floor and her eyes shine again. "I see it and I don't know. Sometimes at work, I see you and I really feel you are under the weather." She shakes her head. "I wonder what's the matter, and I want to help you and make you happy but I don't always know what to do." She turns around and looks at the entrance door. Outside, everything it's dark, barely illuminated by the streetlights. "I try to open the door for you every time I can because... I want to let you know that I'm there for you! You know you can talk to me!"

Pinkie's words are actually stabbing me. I never expected her to make me feel this... guilty. I don't want her to look at me right now and I'm getting tired of her opening the door every time for me... but now I see her intention. She does not want to trouble me, to make me mad. She does not want me to be apart from everybody else. I have another lump in my throat and I'm pressing my teeth against each other. "Um... Pink--"

I stopped. Suddenly my guilt and pain disappear when I look at someone standing at the entrance door. He doesn't look like a client I could frequently see in the corner... but it seems to be strangely familiar. Seconds later, Pinkie does the same, turning around and looking at the man crossing the door. He's now in the store.

...Oh. My. God.

Once I see him near the cashier, I instantly recognize him. He has salt-and-pepper short hair. His green eyes are still bloodshot. He still has that ugly, poorly-shaved beard. He's still wearing that weird bracelet... I know. It's not an illusion. If Pinkie saw him, it means he's real. He may be.

That is the man I saw yesterday, sitting in the corner. He is still wearing ripped jeans but he doesn't have that dirty white shirt anymore. He's wearing a black one. However, there is something that I don't like about him at all. His sight. He doesn't look like he came here to buy something. Buy pastry.

I try to grab Pinkie by her arm but she's faster than me. She quickly gets out of the kitchen and looks at the clock. The weird man doesn't say anything. I try to shout at something, at her, but I can only cover my mouth and think about running away... why, why... why is running away my reaction to everything?

I have to calm myself down, seriously. It's just a coincidence. This guy is weird, this guy is now really suspicious for me but... he hasn't done anything questionable or wrong... yet.

... I don't like how he is looking at the store. He's frowning. He's serious. "We are about to close, sir," says Pinkie. "I'm sorry... we don't have anything left to offer you."

"It's OK." His voice is deep. Sounds like a tough man. I slowly get nearer to Pinkie. "I didn't come here to buy pastry..." he pauses for a second while slowly scratching his jaw. "... although I've heard you make some of the best cupcakes in the town."

I knew it. He is not here to buy pastry... what is he doing? I fastly move my legs and get out of the kitchen but don't say anything. He does not even look at me. He is not looking at Pinkie, either. His eyes slowly spin around the store. She looks at me while slowly closing her hands. She forcibly smiles at him: "Yes, right now we offer some of the best cupcakes in Canterlot. Every day!"

He smiles back and nods his head. "I came here to see your boss... I think he's your boss." He puts his hands in his jeans pockets. "Mr. Cake, isn't he?"

Does he know Mr. Cake? From where? I've got to speak. Pinkie does not have to be alone against him. I can't be left aside! "I'm afraid he is not here right now..." I stutter. Now he is looking at me. "... sir. Are you a friend of his?"

He looks at me, then at Pinkie, at the door. He tries to take a quick look at the kitchen but gives up and moves his head. "We could say yes," he replies and then nods. "Yes, yes. I finally found him... after two weeks."