Dear Rainbow Dash

by fluttershywriter

September 1

Dear Rainbow Dash,

Today when I woke up, my first thought was: It's my first day of school.

My second thought: I miss Sweetie Belle and Applebloom. I bet they're going to have a lot more fun than me on their first day. Lucky ducks.

The third thought: I'm hungry.

So I walked downstairs and found a tall plate of pancakes. Grandma was snoring on the couch, and Momma and Daddy had already left. (Which makes me wonder: what time are they leaving? Pretty early, obviously.)

I had a quiet breakfast, which was kind of nice for a change. I didn't have to deflect Grandma's questions about my parents and school and how my friends were taking the news of my move. But this morning, I almost wanted to have the background noise of Grandma's worthless questions. It would have helped me ignore my panicked thoughts about school.

I don't like to think of myself as a scaredy-pony. And I'm not. I'm brave, like you. This morning, though, I definitely felt a little scared. I wish that my friends had been there. Then I wouldn't have had to be nervous about a new school, not with my friends by my side! Applebloom's easy confidence would make me feel brave, and Sweetie Belle is so likable that I wouldn't have any trouble making new friends as long as I stuck by her side.

I left earlier than I had to, since I wasn't all that sure how to get to my new school. The good news is that I found it eventually, but the bad news was that it took me so long to figure it out that I didn't get to hang out on the playground and meet new ponies. I only had a few minutes before the bell rang, and I didn't want to spend those precious moments standing alone like a loser. Of course, that's exactly what happened.

A split second after the bell rang, I realized that I had no idea which classroom I was in. My heart dropped to the earth for a second, then stuttered and started pumping blood again. All the fillies and foals my age seemed to be moving to the left. Casually, acting like I was one of them, I joined the crowd and walked along the hallway, trying to ignore the fact that most of the ponies in the hallway were either hovering a few inches above the ground or flying so high that they were practically touching the ceiling. Cheeks burning, I ducked my head and scampered to the three classrooms that all the fillies and foals were heading to.

With my heart pounding violently, I walked up to an (abnormally tall, if you ask me) teacher. "Excuse me? Sir?" I asked, wishing that my voice didn't sound squeaky and shaky. "I'm new here, and I was wondering if—"

He waved a hoof at me dismissively and squinted at a clipboard in the other hoof. "Yeah, yeah," he grunted, peering over his glasses. "Miss Scootaloo, right?"

Nopony had ever called me "miss" before. It made me feel more grown-up, but it also kind of freaked me out. It was like a reminder of how big and fancy this school was. In Ponyville, Miss Cheerilee always called us "my little ponies" or something cheesy like that. It was dorky, but it made me homesick to think about Ponyville again.

"Yeah," I eventually said. "I mean, yes, sir." I blushed, worrying that he'd think I was some sort of country hick.

Fortunately, he was too preoccupied with his ever-so-important clipboard to worry about the way I spoke. "You're in Mrs. Glossy's classroom. 102." Once again, he lifted his non-clipboard hoof and pointed in the direction of the second door down.

I thanked him—his response to this was to grunt, bob his head, and continue looking at his clipboard—and sped down the hall, wishing that I had my scooter. When I still went to Ponyville Elementary, sometimes Miss Cheerilee would let me ride it down the hallway, even though it was against the school rules.
Stop thinking about Ponyville, I had to remind myself, cringing and ducking my head. You're not going to get to go back any time soon, so you might as well stop obsessing.

I entered room 102 and sat down at an empty desk, trying not to make eye contact with anypony else in the room. It wasn't that hard, actually—nopony gave me a second glance, except for the blue-coated foal sitting a few seats down from me. When he looked at me, I jerked my chin at him and glared. I guess I looked pretty threatening, because he pulled his head in like a turtle and scooted further away.

It was pretty awesome, actually . . .

Anyway, so when the teacher came in, everypony quieted down immediately. I'm being totally serious. I mean, in Ponyville, Miss Cheerilee would always have to tell us to be quiet before the room had any hope of shutting up. But when this lady walked in, everybody straightened up, swallowed their gum, turned to the front of the room . . . everything. We looked like the perfect class.

When I saw what kind of person Mrs. Glossy was, I immediately wished that I hadn't chosen to sit in the front row. She was the kind of pony who made you know that she was in charge. I mean, I wish that I was a better artist, because then you could get an idea of how she looked. And if I was a better author, you might actually be able to get a picture in your mind of how she looked. But all I can really think of this this: you could kind of tell why everypony had quieted down so quickly. She looked like she would bite your head off if you didn't stop talking.

I knew that she was an old lady when I first saw her, but my brain almost tricked me into thinking that she was some sort of warrior. It was mainly the way that she looked at me when she first noticed me. There was a sharp look in her eyes, a glimmer that sort of said: I know your kind, filly. Don't think that you're so tough.

When she finally spoke, I was surprised to hear that her voice was a bit wavery and weak. "Welcome, class," she said, "to the wonderful place that we all know as Cloudsdale Elementary. Plenty of you have been going here for years, and . . ."

I zoned out, staring blankly at the "inspirational" posters on the wall. "Shoot for the moon—even if you miss, you'll land among the stars!" proclaimed one of them. I resisted the urge to vomit up my pancakes.

Far away, I could hear somepony calling my name, but I continued to stare at the stupid, fluffy walls of the classroom. I found myself wondering if maybe, I could slip into the dark, warm corners of my brain and stay there until—

"Scootaloo!"

I jerked my head up. "Huh?"

The ponies around me giggled like a bunch of idiots. I was tempted to test out the death glare I had given that wimpy foal, but I didn't want to make a bigger fool out of myself than I already had. Cheeks burning, I looked up at Mrs. Glossy. She was trying out her own death glare on me.

"I was wondering, Miss Scootaloo, if you could perhaps give us a moment of your precious time," she said. Her voice had lost its delicate quality and given way to heavy sarcasm since the last time we had spoken.

"Um. Yes," I said idiotically. More giggles and another over-the-glasses glare from Mrs. Glossy.

"Well," she said importantly, clearing her throat. "I was saying that while most ponies have gone to this school since kindergarten, you have not. I was wondering if, perhaps, you'd like to introduce yourself to your classmates?"

The way she said it, I knew it wasn't a question. So, sighing, I looked around. For a moment, I considered standing up, but I didn't want to look like I thought I was too special or something. "Hi, my name's Scootaloo," I began. Great start, nerd, except they knew that already. "I moved here from Ponyville over this summer, and . . . I like . . . doing tricks on my scooter?" Nice. Oh, wait, do pegasi even know what a scooter IS? "Oh, and, I, um, also have these two really good friends named Applebloom and Sweetie Belle and we find our cutie marks together andwehaveathemesongand—yeah." I petered out, realizing that I had just called attention to the last thing I wanted to call attention to. Monumental, Scootaloo, I thought to myself. You just effectively told everypony that you're a blank flank. Glancing around desperately, I counted cutie marks. Did everypony have one? Wait, what about—yup. The scared blue foal had one too.

I hate it here.

Luckily, Mrs. Glossy cleared her throat before anybody could comment on my lack of a cutie mark. "Yes, excellent," she said dryly. I could tell that she hadn't listened to a word I had just said. "Okay, now we're going to see how much you all know about long division and two-digit multiplication . . ."

(Turns out the answer to that question is "not much," by the way, at least for me. Math doesn't matter, anyway.)

After the dopey quiz that we took, Mrs. Glossy read aloud to us from this boring book about Equestrian history. Then she let us have a longer recess than normal, since it was the first day. This was supposed to be a "treat," but let me tell you something: IT WASN'T.

I don't think you can quite understand how boring the Cloudsdale playground is before you actually have to spend an hour playing on it. There is NO WAY that you can make a slide, a cloud box (sort of like a sand box but with mushy clouds in it), and a few swings (one taken by Dizzy Breeze) last a whole hour and still be interesting.

Oh, and speaking of Dizzy Breeze: she goes to Cloudsdale Elementary. She's in my class, which I figured out after she answered about twenty long division questions correctly in a row. And guess what? She sits right behind me, meaning she's in perfect position to whisper "blank flank" in my ear. (I figured this out firsthand, by the way.)

After the most mind-numblingly boring recess you can imagine came lunch. I realized as everypony was sitting down that I hadn't actually packed a lunch.

After lunch came . . . well, who in Equestria cares? I couldn't care less about whatever stupid activity we were doing. I mostly sat at my desk for the next two-and-a-half hours, waiting for 3 o' clock.

The bell finally rang, and I sprinted out of that place like a cockatrice was on my heels. I ran all the way to Grandma's house in under five minutes, ignoring the fact that my lungs felt like they were burning to ashes. I burst the the door, practically cartwheeled into the kitchen, and finished by doing an epic slide on the floor that practically made me smash into Grandma's best china.

"I'm HOME!" I shouted joyfully, picking myself up and dusting little bits of cloud off of my coat. No reply. It was then that I noticed Grandma's note on the kitchen table:

Dear Scootaloo,
I'm playing bridge with my friends this afternoon. I'll probably be home around 5 o' clock, so dinner will be a little late. Your Momma and Daddy will be home in time for dinner. Oh, and would you be a dear and chop up some onions for dinner?

Great.

After cutting up the onions (and practically going blind because some of the juice got in my eyes!), I stomped upstairs and started writing this letter. I can actually hear Grandma opening the door right as I write this, so I'd better go downstairs and say hi. Maybe if I tell her about how bad school is, she'll fly me down to Ponyville and let me live in the Everfree Forest. It'd be better than this Celestia-damned place.

From,
Scootaloo

Comments

[DrakeDragon13]

These letters need to be sent.

[Isseus]

Why isn't there a "sad" tag on this? I feel so down for the cute energetic little filly. And if you think that these parents are bad, well, they are. Nobody should have to go through crap like that, at any age. And it's clear that a divorce coming and Scoots'll get stuck with her dad and be even lonelier. Kids that have to move take some time to adjust, but they do it eventually. I just hope Scoots doesn't have to and this story has a happy ending.

I hope to see something happen with the letters, her grandma send them by accident or something, SOMETHING to save Scoots. Or maybe get a letter back from Dashie.

And... I also hope more people would get a chance to read this story. It's so well written and gets inside the filly's mind in a way I didn't think possible. Using letters as a medium, making Scoots condense all her experiences and feelings onto paper, even stuff she wouldn't tell her own parents. It's like reading her diary, but she's so lonely she has to pretend to write to someone else.

I'm gonna go cry now. And I didn't do that even for MLD.

[fluttershywriter]

1611133 Don't worry, this story will get happier along the way. It's going to obviously have some very sad parts—I couldn't make a Scootaloo story without sadness!—but things will get a bit better for Scootaloo.

1611064 Maybe they will, maybe they won't . . .

[Edragon]

Hang in there Scootaloo, you survived Diamond Tiara and made friends before, you can do it again...Maybe don't death-stare ponies who are looking at you unless they're looking at you weirdly.dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/shrug_Rainbow_Dash.png

Two typos I saw, but maybe they're intentional and Scootaloo just messed up while she was writing?
Previous chapter: Or maybe you cold fly them up here!
Current chapter: this was supposed to me a "treat,"

[fluttershywriter]

1621652 Didn't see those, thanks! I'll fix those right now.

[The Princess Rarity]

Looks good. Will deff read later. (By the way, love your profile pic )

[spiritdetective]

hey great story, but I just wanted to point out that Foal is for kids and colts is for boys. just something I noticed keep up the good work

[Viper Redbird]

I figured this out firsthand, by the way.)

Isn't it supposed to be firsthoof? Considering anyone reds my comment.