Analemma, or A Year in the Sunlight

by Dubs Rewatcher

TUESDAY, APRIL 25, 11:22 AM

Confession: I still don’t like Mrs. Harshwhinny.

After Princess Twilight and the girls blasted me into the dirt last fall, I gave up most of my old grudges. But Harshwhinny’s voice still hits like a hacksaw, her attitude perpetually sucks, and I spend nearly every one of her Gym classes with a frown on my face.

It doesn’t help that I’ve got Gym right before my lunch period, so I’m always hungry as hell. Or that it leaves me feeling sweaty, grimy, and disgusting for the rest of the day. Or that we have to wear the same cheap t-shirt and shorts all year long, no matter the weather.

Today, despite last night’s rainstorm, Harshwhinny has us outside and shivering in front of the soaked bleachers. Bon Bon and Lyra are even clutching each other for warmth — at least until they inevitably start getting handsy and Harshwhinny snaps at them to break it up.

Twilight and I are standing in the back, chatting while Harshwhinny rants about… something. This is one of the few class periods Twi and I share, and getting to hang with her at the start of class is the only worthwhile part of this experience.

“I keep telling Spike that the mailman is a good guy, but he just won’t listen,” she says, arms wrapped in front of her chest. “I figured that once he started talking, I’d finally get through to him.”

“Maybe he knows something about the mailman that you don’t.” I sniffle my runny nose. “Maybe he’s a ghost. Dogs can sense things like that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please. If we can’t detect ghosts, there’s no way dogs can.”

I shrug. “Maybe. But didn’t you tell me Spike once found a pair of your brother’s socks that’d been missing for a year?”

“Sweat and mold aren’t ectoplasm, though.”

“Close enough.”

The entire class around us explodes into a collective groan. As they start to disperse, I nudge Spitfire and ask, “What’s going on?”

“She’s making us run a mile,” Spitfire says. Even she, the second sportiest girl in school, looks like she’s about to snap.

I give a delayed groan of my own and turn to Twilight to say, “Wish me luck.”

Twilight gives me a thumbs-up, then starts walking in the opposite direction, towards her bookbag.

She’s got asthma, which apparently gives her a permanent Get Out of Gym Free card. I know having to suck air out of an inhaler sucks, but I can’t help but feel jealous whenever I see her sitting on the sidelines, head stuck in a novel while the rest of us are stuck in PE. I used to fake doctor’s notes all the time — a remnant of my past life that I still dearly miss.

I trudge over to the track oval, but look over my shoulder when I hear Mrs. Harshwhinny’s voice behind me, yelling, “Sparkle!”

Twilight’s already got a hand in her bag. She snaps up straight like a military cadet at Harshwhinny’s call. “Yes, Ma’am?”

Harshwhinny gestures for Twilight to approach her. “Come on,” she says as Twilight draws near. “You’re not sitting out today.”

That stops both Twilight and I in our tracks. “Ma’am, I have a medical exemption.”

“Your doctor’s note says that you’re excused from ‘strenuous activity.’” Harshwinny jabs a thumb in the track’s direction. “This isn’t strenuous. So the excuse doesn’t work.”

Because I’m a little shit, I can’t stop myself from saying, “I think running a mile is pretty strenuous.”

Twilight’s jaw drops, and Harshwhinny shoots me a glare sharp enough to draw blood. “Did I ask you, Shimmer?”

Both anger and embarrassment flash through my face as the girls around me watch the scene unfold. “I’m just saying—”

“That was a yes-or-no question, Shimmer.”

I let a few choice curses swirl around in my mouth for a second, but eventually shake my head. “No.”

“Exactly. Get to running,” she says with a smile that makes me want to throw a clod of dirt at her head. She turns back to Twilight, who’s still looking past her and at me. “The bleachers are too wet for you to sit anyway. And if you really can’t run, just walk. We’ll wait for you.”

Twilight doesn’t move, and I’m begging her to fight back. Stand up to her! You’ve got a goddamn doctor’s note — that’s worth more than gold around here!

“Go,” Harshwhinny says, and Twilight speedwalks past her, past me, and onto the track to start her mile. She keeps her head low, arms locked at her sides.

A few girls — Spitfire, Fleetfoot, even Muffins — are already finishing their first lap around the oval at this point, and they stare at Twilight as they pass. Over on the other side of the track, I see Cloud Kicker run up alongside Blossomforth, point over at Twilight, and share a giggle with her.

One year ago, I might have pushed them into a puddle for that. But instead I just run to catch up with Twilight, and start walking alongside her.

“Mind if I join you?” I ask, matching her pace.

She looks up at me, then back at Harshwhinny, and then back to me. “You don’t need to walk with me,” she says. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

“Not if we walk together.” I grin. “If I were to just stop running by myself? Sure, that’s insubordination. But the two of us together? That’s concerted activity, so we can’t get in trouble!” I hold my fist high in the air. “Power in numbers, baby!”

Twilight lifts an eyebrow. “I think that rule only applies to labor unions, not public school students.”

“Eh, we’re always singing about how we’re united, right? What’s the difference?”

I’m expecting Twilight to protest — I’m sure she’s ready to explain exactly what the differences are — but instead she laughs.

I love Twilight’s laugh. It’s always louder than how she speaks, and she does it with her entire body, moving up and down like the giggles are shaking her from the inside. And if you’re lucky, she’ll laugh hard enough to snort, which is legit the cutest sight and sound of all time.

I’m not that lucky today. But she still returns my smile and says, “Thanks.”

We spend the rest of the period trying to come up with a plan for solving Spike’s mailman phobia. We don’t even finish our mile in time.

Comments

[Eroraf86]

In fairness to Harshwhinny, walking a mile would be a perfectly acceptable compromise for certain forms of asthma. I only really get symptoms when I try to run outdoors, but I can hike at a decent walking pace for hours with little issue. And if Twilight's inhaler is of the fast-acting type, like my Albuterol, taking it a little in advance of PE should be sufficient to prevent an asthma attack during mild physical activity, such as a relaxed walk.

Of course, she could have been a little more sensitive about it. What exactly is her definition of "strenuous," anyway?

[The Voice in the Water]

Enjoy your suffering girls.

[ScisetShimmerEvan]

“She’s making us run a mile,” Spitfire says. Even she, the second sportiest girl in school, looks like she’s about to snap.

Now there's something I hated doing when I was still in school, I'm glad I don't have to worry about it in college.

Because I’m a little shit, I can’t stop myself from saying, “I think running a mile is pretty strenuous.”

Agreed.

“Exactly. Get to running,” she says with a smile that makes me want to throw a clod of dirt at her head. She turns back to Twilight, who’s still looking past her and at me. “The bleachers are too wet for you to sit anyway. And if you really can’t run, just walk. We’ll wait for you.”

That's good at least.

[grilledcat]

Oh man, I hated mile run days in high school. They said I could power walk if I couldn’t run, and that was embarrassing enough being the last one still out on the track after the rest of class finished.

[Dubs Rewatcher]

11589081
Absolutely. When we ran the mile in my freshman year, I walked the whole thing, finished way in last -- and then found a picture on Facebook that night of me walking while everyone was running. So definitely based on a true story

[MarvelandPonder]

Oh man, I'm so glad you're writing in this era where we saw Sunset sticking up for Twilight a lot. It's a goddamn cute era, where she was still super sensitive about everything and before she became more confident and didn't need it as much.

And so far I think you're balancing well between giving Sunset reasons to stick up for Twilight vs. the feeling I get when a romance story feels too orchestrated to put asshole beahviour in front of our mains a ton so that the romantic lead and/or interest can look better by comparison. I've read published books that feel like the latter, and hey, that way of writing background characters works for some people! I just prefer how you're doing it.

Besides, I believe Harshwhinny is kind of a dick, that's more than allowed. It's in the name!

[readsponies]

Every year in Phoenix, some new PE teacher would do this, and every year in Phoenix, some new PE teacher would kill a child.