SATURDAY, AUGUST 19, 8:28 PM
After Camp Everfree, Pinkie and I came up with a cute little ritual for the Rainbooms to do before every show: We all stand in a circle. We all close our eyes, and we all hold hands. And with my powers, I link our minds, letting us share our thoughts and feelings without saying a word.
Right now, we’re crammed backstage, minutes away from hitting the stage for our Sunfest set. Stagehands and audio engineers are sprinting in every direction. We’re all dolled up in Rarity’s sparkling new concert outfits. Hearts beating, beating, beating.
The girls form a circle. Pinkie holds out her hand so I can join. I step forward.
Rainbow Dash looks at me. No emotion on her face. I stop.
As soon as I link us up, Dash will feel my shame and my fear. And every bit of her anger will flow right back into me. I can’t handle that. Not before the biggest concert of our lives.
But Pinkie reaches out farther. And on the other side, Fluttershy offers her hand too. She’s smiling.
Take a breath. Swallow my spit. Ignore the stomach pain.
Hold their hands. Focus. Break the barriers. Mind flowing into mind, into mind, into mind—
Like water droplets, our minds merge as one. I hear Applejack’s husky drawl, Fluttershy’s squeak.
Then comes the emotion. Love and fear and excitement. Tingling heat rolling along my bones, beams of passing sunlight. It’s almost enough to knock me flat on my ass.
Pinkie thinks first. “Hey there, cuties!” Even with the crowd grumbling and music blaring through the PA, we can hear each other completely clear.
“I’m ready,” Twilight thinks. She’s breathing fast, and every exhale pushes jittering waves of nervousness out of her and through us. “I’m ready for this. I am. I can do this.”
“You can,” Applejack thinks with pride. “We all can. We ain’t some third-rate, rinky-dink garage band. We’re the Rainbooms! Best in Canterlot, best in the world!”
Rarity hops onto Applejack’s pride and rides it. “And the best dressed. No competition.”
“I want to say something,” Rainbow thinks.
All of us quiet down. I grit my teeth, curl my toes, anything I can do to keep the fear from leaking out.
But a wave of fear hits me anyway. It’s coming from Rainbow Dash.
“I wanna tell Sunset that I’m sorry,” Dash thinks. She’s more afraid than I am. “I screwed up. I wrote ‘Trail of the Comet’ too fast without realizing, and acted like a dick when you pointed it out. I’m taking it off the setlist tonight. You’re my best friend, and you deserve better.”
There’s a lull. The connection between us falters for a second — at least one of the girls is opening their eyes to look at me.
If we weren’t all silently linked, I’d scream and jump for joy.
I send all my love crashing back into Rainbow Dash. “Apology accepted,” I think. Then I smirk. “And I gotta be honest, Dash — I sorta assumed we weren’t gonna play it anyway, and didn’t practice. Sorry.”
“I don’t blame you,” Dash thinks. A jolt of joy. “Just gives us more time to do an encore, right?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Applejack thinks. “We gotta put on a good show, first!”
“We got that in the bag!” Pinkie screams in our heads. “‘Cuz who are we?”
“The Rainbooms!” we yelp back.
“And what do we do?”
“Kick ass!” all of us think — except for Twilight, who substitutes “butt.”
We all giggle internally until something touches my ankle and a new, smaller mind joins our chorus: “Did I miss the weird brain pep rally?” Spike thinks.
“Just wrapped up,” thinks Dash. “Sorry, dude.”
A flash of furry frustration. “Aw, man! I always miss the cool part. But you gotta understand, there’s this super comfy couch in the dressing room with the chewiest pillows—”
“Rainbooms!” yells a gruff voice a few yards away. “You’re on in two minutes!”
“Let’s do this, ladies!” Pinkie thinks, and everyone cheers and lets go.
I stumble backwards, head spinning as my thoughts realign themselves. My vision goes dark, and my stomach flips — but I plant both feet down and regain my balance.
It takes a second to realize Twilight is talking to me. “I can’t blame him,” she says, watching Spike sprint back to the dressing room and his chewy pillows. Her hands are clasped in front of her, fingers struggling against each other. “I’m sure he’s heard enough of my singing at home.”
“I’d love to be in his place.”
“Sleeping on a couch?”
“No — well, yes. I’ll never turn down a nap.” I nudge her. “But I meant listening to you.”
She snorts and rolls her eyes. No wringing hands anymore, though. “I’m sure. Well, I’ll say the same to you, Guitar Queen.”
“I thought I was Gamer Queen?”
“You can be both!”
“Twi! Sunset!” Applejack yells from the curtain. “We’re about to go on! Get your butts in gear!”
We giggle and hurry over to our places. The crowd rumbles behind the curtain. Camera phones flash and smoke machines steam. Nausea spiders through my gut — push it away. Push all the anxiety away.
The director counts us down. Five, four, three, two—
The curtain opens. Rumble becomes roar.
When I get up on stage and start performing, I go into a weird fugue state. I’m so focused on playing that my brain completely closes up, and I barely remember anything about my performance once it’s over. Ask me what playing Sunfest was like, and I couldn’t tell you. It never even entered short-term memory.
All I remember are the bright flashing lights, a blister opening on my thumb, and Twilight dancing — always an unforgettable sight. The lights were too bright to pick any faces out of the crowd, but I know that it doubled in size during our set, then tripled when Rainbow grew wings during a guitar solo.
Some people think using magic during our shows is cheating — trust me, I’ve read the angry SnapGab posts. But no one knows how to work a crowd like Rainbow Dash when she’s twenty feet in the air. Hell, she could give PostCrush a run for their money!
As we scurry back through the curtain, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, the crowd gives us one final cheer. It’s the loudest applause I’ve ever heard, and absolutely makes up for the fact that no one threw their underwear on stage. Absolutely. Mostly.
“We’re so awesome,” Rainbow keeps repeating, super-speed running in a circle. Next to her, Pinkie vibrates.
Rarity and Applejack hug. And keep hugging. And keep hugging. Fluttershy collapses against a wall, touches her heaving chest, looks up, and then smiles. I’m still lightheaded.
And Twilight — Twilight is looking through a gap in the curtain, back into the crowd. She’s got her inhaler in one hand, and she’s grabbing the fabric with another.
I wipe the sweat from my face and sidle up to her. “You good?” I ask, shouting over the crowd.
“Totally,” she shoots back without a pause.
We join the rest of the girls and hobble back to our dressing room. Applejack gets there first, running in and tearing open her backpack, then tosses us each a cold bottle of apple cider. I try to catch mine and miss, but Twilight catches it with magic before it shatters against the wall. We clink bottles and chuckle, while Spike jumps off his couch and circles our feet, tongue wagging.
“Listen up, y’all!” Applejack says, hopping onto the couch. “I don’t usually do this, but I—”
“Speech, speech!” Pinkie chants.
Rarity cups her hands around her mouth. “Talk your shit, darling!”
“—wanna say a few words,” she finishes, frowning at them. Especially Rarity. She takes a deep breath.
I’m gonna throw up.
I bite my tongue and slip away from the girls. It feels like a spiked balloon has swelled up in my intestines and is trying to force its way out. I was lightheaded before, but now I’m genuinely dizzy with pain. I lean against the wall next to the door, but even there my legs are shaking.
Oh goddess, did I catch a bug? Some kind of summer flu? I had my period last week.
The roadside taco stand flashes in my mind. Did it have a health department rating on the side? The black flecks in my burrito were pepper, right?
AJ yells something. The girls laugh. A sledgehammer cracks into my gut. I almost fall over.
But then the pain passes. My stomach is still gurgling, my head’s still pounding, I’m disgustingly sweaty. But no pain.
Concert’s ending. AJ’s wrapping up her speech. Let’s get undressed and get out of here — the sooner I can get back to the hotel and close my eyes, the better. There’s no better way to cure a tummy ache than to lay down in a dark room and close your eyes.
Our dressing room door opens — Does no one knock before entering anymore? — and some lady with a headset on peeks inside. “Girls,” she says, “you have some fans out here looking for autographs!”
The room goes dead quiet. It takes a second for Rainbow, voice shaking, to respond, “Send them in, then!”
Holy crap. Holy shit, even. The only person who’s ever asked me for my autograph is my landlord on his rent checks. Hell, even the kids whose lives we’ve saved don’t ask us for autographs. We’re just some random teenage pop rockers. Autographs are for superstars.
But then the dressing room door opens wide. And the fans come flooding in faster than I can count.
It’s mostly girls, around our age or a little younger. They’re decked out in shiny yellow Sunfest merch, glow sticks hanging from every bit of clothing. Lots of pride flag pins — not a surprise, considering our frontwoman is a walking rainbow. They swarm the room like sharks, circling around each of us and squealing compliments and questions.
Rainbow and Rarity score the biggest crowds, and they look like complete naturals, handing out high-fives and signatures without a second thought. Pinkie is bouncing like a pogo stick, chatting and laughing and Twilight and I stay near Applejack, letting her take charge of the conversation.
But as more fans crowd in, Fluttershy runs out.
Crap, Shy. I got so hyped that I didn’t even think about how she might react to all this. We’re the ones thirsty for attention — she just wants to play her tambourine and chill.
I step away from the crowd, murmuring apologies. I should go find her and see if she’s okay.
But then the pain comes back, sharp enough to make my hair stand on end. I limp over to the couch and collapse. There are spots on the edges of my vision as I clutch my stomach, doubled over, head between my knees.
No, this is our big night! It’s just a stomach ache. I can’t be such a drama queen.
I force a toothy smile and unscrew my bottle of apple cider. The sweet smell floats into my nostrils and sets my stomach on fire. I shut my eyes, my chest heaves, and slap my hand to my mouth.
So much for acting normal. I need to get out of here.
Fluttershy reappears at the door. She beckons to someone outside. “In here!”
Oh, right. Her ‘friend.’ I rub my eyes and stand up — gotta stay stable for a minute more. Be a friend first, and die later.
“You guys were amazing!” Wallflower Blush says, running inside.
I fall back onto the couch. My stomach splits in two.
No. No. No. She shouldn’t be here.
Rainbow stands on her tip-toes and waves. “Yo, Wally! When did you get here?”
“Like, first thing this morning!” Wallflower’s grinning like a brat in a candy store, spinning around to take in every inch of the dressing room. “I’ve been wanting to see you guys play for months, and my aunt lives in Hoofington, so when Fluttershy told me you were playing Sunfest, I had to come!”
Fluttershy nods. “We’re in a birdwatching group chat together.”
I hear laughing. Don’t know who from. I can’t stop staring at Wallflower.
Why did Fluttershy bring her here?
Because she hates me. Pinkie was wrong.
I have to be nice. Be nice.
“The show was awesome!” Wallflower says. Everyone’s watching as she bounces from Rainboom-to-Rainboom. “Rarity’s keytar is so cool. And Pinkie’s such a good drummer! And Twilight’s the best singer ever.”
Twilight smiles, folds her hands behind her back, and steps closer to me.
Wallflower watches her move. And then her eyes meet mine.
Everything’s blurry, my mouth is dry. I’m breathing like an asthmatic, shallow and raspy.
Wallflower shrinks a bit. I want her to shrink into nothing. “It’s been a while, huh?” she says, sheepish.
I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.
“Yeah,” I say.
No, no. I can’t hate her. We all forgave her. And if I’m not nice to her, she’ll hate me again. And then it’s all over.
Wallflower steps closer, and I feel her radiating emotions: Worry, excitement, exhaustion. Her emotions are hard, cold, uneven.
She feels like the Memory Stone.
When she took my memories, it felt like having my brain pulled out through my ears with a fishing line. I feel the same thing now in my stomach. Is she doing this?
Twilight touches my shoulder. I look up at her but sweat drips into my eyes and I can’t see her face, and she whispers something but I can’t hear her over my breathing. The spots in my eyes are getting bigger, darker. Wallflower did this.
When I look back at Wallflower everyone is staring at me. The girls and the fans and the walls. There are Wallflowers in the makeup mirrors, tinged with glowing blue light.
Wallflower steps towards me, closer and closer. “Are you okay?” She’s frowning, she’s angry.
Oh goddess I knew this would happen. Is she gonna hurt me? She’s gonna take everyone away again. That’s what I get for not being nice.
She’s close enough now to grab. I can stop her. I’m bigger than her, way bigger. That’s why everyone’s scared of me.
Then she smiles again. And she reaches into her back pocket.
I jump up and grab her arm tight enough that she shouts, then activate my powers and tear through her mind. I’m not going down without a fight.
Search her memories and emotions to find out what she’s planning. What’s in her pocket? The Memory Stone? Some new artifact she’s found to ruin my life?
A solid arm wraps around my torso and lifts me off the ground. I drag Wallflower with me for a few steps, but she pulls back hard enough that her shirt rips and I lose my grip.
Her memories disappear, and I black out as my mind reorients itself. When the world comes back into focus, I’m back in the dressing room, and Applejack is holding me.
Wallflower’s on the floor, collapsed onto her ass, face pale. Her Sunfest t-shirt is ruined. She’s holding a sunflower.
“What’s gotten into you?” Applejack yells. My ears are ringing.
All the fans are gawking at me. The headset lady is trying to herd them all outside. I stare back, blinking, lightheaded. Then the pain in my gut triples — and starts to rise.
I wriggle out of Applejack’s grasp and sprint out the door.
Down one hallway, down another. Can’t breathe. I hate her. Can’t breathe.
Crash through a set of double-doors and into the night. I skid to a stop in the grass and fall to my knees.
A waterfall of vomit flies past my lips. I can barely take a breath before I heave again and I erupt again. I’m gripping the earth for dear life, even as the world twists and melts around me.
I don’t know how long this lasts. But eventually the heaving stops, the pain eases up — but doesn’t disappear — and I fall over onto my side. The puddle of puke in front of me smells like rancid cheese.
Cool night air wisps through the trees and along my clammy skin. It’s 80 degrees out, but I’m shivering — I cross my arms in front of my chest and curl up into a ball. Cold, cold, cold.
Footsteps in the distance. “Sunset!” Pinkie calls, and a few seconds later she’s at my side, along with Twilight and Rainbow Dash.
“Hey guys,” I say, then cough. My throat has turned into rusty metal.
“Do you need my inhaler?” Twilight asks. She rubs my back in circles.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
Rainbow scoffs. “Dude, you are not fine.”
Twilight touches my forehead. “You’re on fire!”
“Yeah, I play guitar pretty good.” I flip over onto my back and stare up into the stars. “Pinkie. I think the burrito betrayed me.”
“What? No!” Pinkie tugs on her curls. “That’s impossible!”
The girls let me catch my breath. Then they pick me up, and I drape my arms over Twilight and Pinkie’s shoulders. “Sorry for ruining the concert.”
“Eh, you’re not the first rockstar to puke after a show,” Rainbow says, waving me off. “Most of them do it ‘cuz they’re on drugs, though. Here, lemme get you some water.” She super-speeds back inside.
Twi and Pinkie carry me back over to the door. But I plant my feet and stop before we get there.
“I don’t want to go back inside,” I say, hanging my head. “I don’t want to see her.”
They glance at each other. Then they turn me around, and we walk around the side of the building.
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I hope Sunset will be okay... this doesn't seem like just the effects of bad food... I think there is something else.
Ohhh boy. Sunset, you are NOT okay.
...Weren't you signing autographs just this past weekend at Twilight's Book Nook?
Oh my goodness my poor girl 😭
11671487
If it was just the bad food, the others probably would have been sick too, but it is just Sunset, so something is going on.
Yea, there's something more going on. Don't know what, but that sounds like more than just food poisoning.
I would have totally yelled at the Wallflower reveal if I wasn't in public while reading this. Just the worst possible person for Sunset to run into while she's spiraling my poor girl
Also lost it at TALK YOUR SHIT DARLING you write such a good Rarity.
My guess would have been that the sickness is from overusing her amulet, but I'm pretty sure there was a short which covered that. It might have been a fic, however.
All things considered that could have gone WAY worse. Given the warning I kept picturing worse. Still, while the others will be concerned, and rightly so, Sunset will feel better now that the bad stuff is out
Also, FYI for everyone, NEVER drink tequila from a skull shaped bottle. TRUST ME.
(shooketh gasp of fear)
BROOOOOOO
This was an INSANE chapter! Thanks for posting two today!!!
Is that even safe?
And here I thought Sunset wouldn't do anything to her. Nope.
That ain't good!
So, food poisoning combined with a form of sensory overload? I wouldn't wish that hell on anyone...
Oh, this is not good on a wide variety of levels. The girls will need to have a long talk, ideally after Sunset recovers from food poisoning. But the Wallflower matter is very much not resolved, and for everyone's sake, it needs to be ASAP. At least most of the group's other drama got taken care of tonight... though not all of it.