Orange Picker walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down. The ponies on the bottom were as small as grains of dust on a kitchen floor. Orange Picker’s heart rate rose, but she gave it no attention. Strapped to her back was a pair of wings made of sticks and cloth, each twice the size of her earth pony filly body. A handle with a paddle like device stuck out of the wing system, in front of her front hooves. Blood dripped from it and her body and face were covered with so many cuts and bruises that they formed patterns like the constellations. Entire patches of her orange body and mane had turned to a dark red and blue. The soft breeze irritated her injuries and shot pulses of pain throughout her body, each strong enough to send any other pony into shock. She stood tall though and let the wind pass through her.
OP walked away from the edge and strapped herself tighter to her wings. In front of her were a series of hills that stretched to the horizon and beyond. They all had fruit farms and farmhouses on them. The largest held up a small town, which was really just a town hall, some stores and even more farms. As the sun rose the farmers all came out of their houses, smiling. Orange Picker shook her head. Far off in the distance was Las Pegasus, just a blur in the sky from her view.
OP rotated the paddle with her front hooves. The wings flapped. She put her hooves back on the ground and dragged a trail of dirt and grass behind her, looking straight at the edge of the cliff. Her heart rate was still high, and her injuries stung more to remind her of their existence. She looked up at the sky. A group of Pegasi played in the air, laughing. "No more tomorrows," she said. Her heart rate returned to normal.
Orange Picker snorted. She charged towards the edge, making sure not to slip on the wet grass. The edge grew closer with every step, as did her concentration. She kept her focus on a point in the sky and stared at it through the wind blowing at her eyes. The edge was now only feet away; she was past the point of no return. She charged up the muscles in her hooves for the final jump.
“Orange Picker,” a voice called out.
Her concentration broke. She found herself stumbling towards the edge, with her wings flapping by themselves from the erratic movement. They pushed the air behind her and sped up her horizontal free fall. Orange Picker choked down the temptation to scream and detached herself from her wings. She slid on the grass, injecting her hooves into the ground. Her speed decreased, but only by a little. She fell off the cliff and latched onto the edge. The pull of her body nearly broke her grip, but she held on with everything she had. Her wings fell off the cliff a few feet beside her and spiraled down through the air. A second later they were nothing more than a collection of broken twigs and ripped cloth. Orange Picker’s grip began to give out.
“Orange Picker. Orange Picker. You there?” The voice was that of another filly’s. Hoofsteps came from on top of the cliff. One of Orange Picker’s hooves slipped from the wet grass. A face popped into view; it was the filly. She grabbed Orange Picker’s remaining hoof. “Oh my Celestia. Don’t worry. I got you.”
OP shook her hoof. “No. I’m doing this by myself,” she screamed. The filly let go of her and stepped back out of view. Orange Picker threw her free hoof back onto the edge and pulled with all her might. The fact that it was so hard pissed her off, but being in such an injured state she wasn’t all that surprised. Her head made it on top of the cliff and she used her hind hooves to throw herself forward. Orange Picker landed on her stomach and exhaled. Her hooves were numb, but she was alive.
The filly ran to Orange Picker. “Are you okay? Please be okay.” She rocked Orange Picker's body back and forth. OP stayed put on the ground to regain control of her hooves. It was coming back, but slowly. The filly continued rocking her and was more out of breath than the filly she was trying to save. OP recognized her. The filly was Nectar, a yellow and light orange earth pony that went to the same school as her. Like herself she too was a blank flank.
“Orange Picker. Orange Picker. Say something,” Nectar said. OP got up. Her hooves still felt like jelly bags, but it’d have to do.
“Don’t worry. I’m okay,” she said. She faced Nectar. “But why’d you scream out my name like that? I could’ve died. Not that I got a problem with that, but I’d rather not die in such a retarded way.”
Nectar was on the verge of crying. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, sooo sorry,” she said in her soft voice. She dropped to the ground and shook. Her larger than normal eyes and foal like appearance made her look cuter than any bunny. “Please don’t tell anypony.”
Orange Picker chuckled. She picked up Nectar and smiled. “I already told you; don’t worry about it." Nectar stopped shaking and smiled. “So what’s up? Why are you out here screaming my name and not in class?
“I was actually just there. Ms. Blossom sent me to look for you. She said she wanted you there immediately and seemed really mad. I’ve actually never seen her that mad before,” Nectar said.
Orange Picker laughed. “Ha. Like that’ll ever happen. Why don’t you tell Ms. Blossom to stop wasting her time and do something useful with her life for once.” Orange Picker looked up at the sky. The Pegasi were gone. “And besides, I’m busy.”
“About that…” Nectar said. She touched Orange Picker’s wounds. “What were you doing anyway? I mean I know you’re always covered with cuts, but not like this.”
“Oh, I’m just…” Orange Picker remembered the pile of debris that was once her wings. “I mean I was just trying out my new wing system. Crashed a lot, just part of the process.” She put her head down and frowned. “So much for that though.” An idea popped into her head. Orange Picker shot towards Nectar and smiled. Nectar pulled her head back. “I have an idea. Why don’t we do something together?"
Nectar paused. “But I have to go back-.”
“Oh forget about school and Ms. B’s propaganda,” Orange Picker said.
“Pr…opaganda?” Nectar said.
Orange Picker ran to a nearby bush and pulled out a book. The letters on the cover spelled Excelsior. Orange Picker opened the book and began reading. She smiled. “There’s no limit to what we can do.” Nectar just stared in silence. “We can learn how to make dresses, become party planners, work out, learn every type of martial art, open Equestria’s first fight club.” She continued reading. “Or my personal pick. Thank the creator I remembered to write this.” Orange Picker shook from excitement. “We can fight bears. Come on. I even heard there’s an Ursa Major around here. What more could you want?”
“No,” Nectar screamed. She shook and turned her head in every direction. She lowered her voice. “No. Just please, no.”
Orange Picker put her hoof around Nectar. “Come ooon. It'll be hard, maybe even impossible according to you, but isn't that the fun of it? And besides, if I can do it then anypony can. Where’s your self-confidence? You can’t suck that much?”
Nectar pushed herself away from Orange Picker. “Sorry, but I’m getting late. Come on OP, let’s just go to class. Maybe Ms. Blossom won’t be that mad.”
Orange Picker growled. “I already told you, no. Didn’t you hear me the first time? And besides, there’s no way I’m going today. I’d rather dive head first off that cliff. And if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t lie. There’s already enough liars in this so called kingdom.”
“Why not today?” Nectar said.
“You haven’t heard?” Nectar shook her head. Orange Picker chuckled. “Not surprised. Ms. Blossom’s giving a presentation today, and I refuse to go and sit through thirty minutes of indoctrination.” Nectar once again just stared in silence. “It’s about the most disgusting thing we ponies have tricked ourselves into loving—cutie marks.”
Orange Picker and Nectar ran across the street. The school was only a few blocks away in front of them, near the center of the town that sat on top of the hill. Stores catered to every fruit filled every street corner, and even the houses were more fruit markets than homes. The number of buildings outnumbered the actual ponies in the town by two to one. The air was much warmer than at the cliff. The two fillies, mostly Nectar, struggled to breathe from the warm air. “I still can’t believe you got me to go. I know I'm gonna regret this later," Orange Picker said. She took a breath after every syllable.
“Q-Quickly. We’re almost there,” Nectar said.
They both made the final push to the school. As they ran the townsponies all stared at Orange Picker. It wasn’t a glare of hatred or anger, but a stare one would give a new species or creature nopony had ever seen before. She made sure not to stare back and kept her eyes pointed in front of her. “They’ll see…”
The two fillies stopped in front of the school’s front door. OP hid her anger and took a deep breath. Nectar opened the door. On the other side was a classroom, even hotter than the outside, full of fillies and colts talking and laughing. Their bodies and manes shined with every possible color and combination. Orange Picker by comparison looked as generic as could be with her all orange pattern, with her injuries being the only thing that set her apart from the crowd appearance wise. Even her voice was forgetful, especially compared to the chatter of the room where even the quietest pony could be heard and recognized.
The class turned to the two fillies and froze in silence. Hoofsteps came from the back of room. Ms. Blossom, an orange earth pony mare with glasses, walked to the two fillies. She had her usual teacher smile and stared at Orange Picker's injures. “There you are Orange Picker. We’ve all been waiting for you.” OP gave her a death glare. Miss Blossom continued smiling, completely oblivious. She turned to Nectar. “Thanks for finding her Nectar. Always appreciated.”
“You're welcome Ms. B,” Nectar said, smiling. She walked to one of the desks and sat down. Orange Picker didn’t move.
“Please go to your seat Orange Picker. I have a special surprise for you all and you’ve kept us all waiting long enough as it is,” Ms. Blossom said.
OP walked to one of the desks. She still gave a death glare. As she walked the students around her giggled and whispered among themselves. “She’s so gonna get in trouble,” one colt said.
“I wonder how long her parents are gonna ground her for this?” said a filly.
“How can she walk with all those cuts?” said another.
Orange Picker sat down and tried her hardest not to break the desk in two. It was harder than jumping off any cliff.
Ms. Blossom cleared her throat. “Alright class, I have a quite a treat for you today. For those of you who don’t know, which I’m sure is nopony here because I know you all always pay attention, I’m giving a big and exciting presentation. Can any of you tell me what it’s on?” She looked around the room.
Nectar raised her hoof. “Cutie marks.”
“Good job Nectar. Somepony’s been paying attention,” Ms. Blossom turned to the rest of the class. “Today’s presentation is about cutie marks. But before I begin, I want to see how much you all already know about them. So who here can tell me what a cutie mark is?”
A colt raised his hoof. “Butt tattoos” he screamed out. The class erupted with laughter, as did Ms. Blossom. Orange Picker stayed silent with her hooves crossed. She glared at Nectar for getting her to go to class.
“You are technically correct, Pear Seed, but can someone go into more detail please?” Ms. Blossom said.
A filly raised her hoof. “Well according to my older sister they tell you what you’re good at.”
“Close. But it could still be better. Allow me to explain,” Ms. Blossom said, still smiling.
Orange Picker sighed. “And the horseshit begins.”
Ms. Blossom walked around the room. She went between the rows of desks. “Cutie marks are special symbols that appear on everypony. They’re unique to everypony, and only appear when a pony has discovered their special talent, a skill or idea that makes them special and unique. Everypony is born with a special talent.” The class was in a trance from their teacher’s words. They all stared at her with their eyes twice as big and mouths opened. Orange Picker felt like throwing up. “I’ve prepared my own story as an example of the process and to clear any confusion.” Ms. Blossom walked to her desk in the front of the room and pulled out a board from underneath it. She put it on top of the desk. On the board were pictures of her younger self, in fashion styles that’d make her a social outcast in the present. She pointed to one of them. “This is me when I was your age. And yes I regret wearing that.” She chuckled. “This was back when I was what’s called a blank flank, or a pony without a cutie mark.”
Ms. Blossom pointed to another picture, one of her helping a colt study. Her eyes were red in the picture, even more than the colt’s. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve loved helping other ponies—even more than helping myself. Seeing others live up to their potential just made me happy. I can’t explain why; it just did.” She pointed to another picture, one of a filly crying over getting last place in a race. “I never thought much of it until one day…” She pointed to another picture, this time of the filly hugging her, with a first place ribbon around her neck. “When I realized that helping other ponies was my special talent and purpose in life and my cutie mark appeared.” She showed off her cutie mark, a purple flower, to the class. The class stretched their heads towards it and stared at it like it was meaning of life itself. Orange Picker chuckled.
“Nice plot,” she said.
Ms. Blossom removed her backside from view. “Ever since that day my life had meaning. I ended up becoming a teacher to help as many young fillies and colts reach their full potential as I could.” The class smiled.
Ms. Blossom pointed to a framed picture of Princess Celestia on the wall. “The Princess’s special talent for example is raising the entire sun. I can only imagine how she figured that out.” Orange Picker glared at the picture. “But I warn you, getting your cutie mark is not something you can rush. It’s a process, not a goal. You will have to be patient, but trust me when I say the process is rewarding. I still remember the day I got my cutie mark as the best day of my life. In fact, the only day that was better was…well actually let’s just forget about that last part.” Ms. Blossom blushed and chuckled.
She walked to the center of the room. “So who here’s excited about getting their cutie mark?” she screamed. The class paused. A second later everypony in the room erupted into a frenzy of applause and cheer. The collective sound of their applause shook the room and their yells were as loud as a jackhammer. Ms. Blossom smiled and cheered herself. Orange Picker remained silent and shook her head.
"Have fun wasting your lives." She wasn’t surprised in the least and kept her jaw clenched to calm herself.
Ms. Blossom made a megaphone with her hooves. “Now that’s the spirit.”
The class cheered louder. Conversations started all across the room. “I can’t wait to get my cutie mark,” one colt said.
“My special talent is definitely gonna be something cool,” screamed another.
Orange Picker shook in her desk but kept her mouth shut. She tried to tune out the noise around her, but couldn’t. With every passing second the class grew louder and Orange Picker's head burned with ever greater anger. A group of fillies next to her started drawing cutie marks on their backsides with markers. It was the last straw. She snapped.
OP slammed her desk and broke it in two. The class stopped talking and turned to her. They froze. Ms. Blossom walked to her. “Orange Picker…w-what is wrong with you?”
Orange Picker got up. “Sorry. Actually no, I’m not sorry. I’m not putting up with this horse anymore.”
Ms. Blossom put her hoof over her mouth and gasped. “Where did you learn words like that? I think it’s time for-.”
“This whole cutie mark special talent so called presentation pisses me off, and I’m not just gonna sit idly by and watch everypony else be conditioned like dogs,” Orange Picker said.
Ms. Blossom paused with her mouth open. The rest of the class didn’t say a word. “What are you talking about?” she screamed.
“Oh you know what I’m talking about.” Orange Picker pointed at her. “You act all high and mighty giving your speech and act like there isn’t any other viewpoint out there. But guess what? Not everypony wants to get their cutie mark. You ever thought about that?”
Ms. Blossom and the class gasped. She lowered her voice. “Look, I don’t know who’s been telling you these things-.”
“Why does anypony have to tell me? These are my views, and the views of many other ponies if they hadn’t been trained from day one to blindly love cutie marks and destiny.”
Ms. Blossom moved her hoof towards Orange Picker. “Orange Picker. I love that you’re so passionate about your views, but you seem to be confused.”
Orange Picker slapped her hoof away. “Of course I’m confused,” she said sarcastically. “I’m gonna change things one day. Remember that.” She turned to Nectar. “And I don't lie.” She walked to the door. “So why don’t you tell your Princess that.”
Orange Picker slammed the door, and left the building.
Ms. Blossom sat in her desk and waited. The classroom was empty of students and the setting sun gave its last rays through the windows. She stared at the closed door to the outside in silence.
The door opened. A middle aged Earth Pony couple walked in and sighed. They were none other than Orange Picker’s parents. Her dad, Orange Planter, stood tall with his orange and green body and mane, and a trio of orange seeds for a cutie mark. His rodeo hat shook as he walked. Her mom, Orange Juicer, kept her face pointed down and frowned. Her body and mane were a combination of light orange and a hard white, like the color of orange pulp. “So what did she do this time?” Planter said. He kept his eyes fixed on Blossom’s as he talked and had a permanent glare on. He stood completely erect and didn’t even hunch a degree. His wife frowned.
Blossom laughed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now.” She pointed to the many desks in the room. “Have a seat first at least.”
Orange Picker’s parents walked to a pair of desks and sat down. Planter lay back in his seat and crossed his hooves. His glare was still on. Juicer looked around the room. “I love what you did with the room. Back when I was young our classrooms never had paintings or such beautiful designs or-.”
Planter put his hoof over his wife’s mouth. “Just stop it honey. She obviously didn’t call us to talk about the room.” He raised his voice and faced Blossom. “So just tell us what she did so I can be done with it. I’m wasting time I could’ve been using back at the fields.”
Blossom chuckled. “Fine. We’ll skip the small talk then. I actually prefer it that way.” She glared back at Planter. “But I can assure you that you won’t be leaving so quickly this time,” she said in a firm tone. Planter growled with his mouth closed and clenched his jaw.
“She couldn’t have done anything that bad?” Juicer said.
“I wish.” Blossom sat tall. “Your daughter went too far this time, and frankly I’ve reached my breaking point with her.”
Orange Picker’s parents looked at each other in silence. Juicer put her head down, frowning.
Blossom cleared her throat. “I had a presentation about cutie marks planned today, since the class is now at the age that they should be getting them. I felt that it was important that Orange Picker get the opportunity to learn about them from a proper source and sent a filly to get her. When she finally came in she was covered in even more cuts and bruises than usual and was visibly mad. She kept on giving me a stare, like she was going to attack me, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time and proceeded to the presentation.” She paused and exhaled. “What happened next was…bizarre, to say the least.”
Planter sat unaffected. His hooves remained crossed. Juicer was on the verge of gasping and had her hooves over her open mouth. Blossom continued. “It happened at the end of the presentation. The class became excited about getting their cutie marks and discovering themselves, as was my intention. Your daughter…” Blossom looked down and away from Planter and Juicer. Her sense of failure was too great. “She broke her desk and started going off about how the presentation was brainwashing, conditioning, and other equally bizarre things. She told me that she didn’t want her cutie mark and made it seem like I was some sort of villain for teaching the class about them. And as if that wasn’t enough, she even cursed in front of the class and went so far as to disrespect the Princess.”
Juicer froze. Her hooves were still over her open mouth. “We had no idea she was like this. Attitude problem, the cuts, yes—but not this.”
Planter chuckled. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I was actually expecting something worse.”
Blossom slammed her desk. Planter stopped laughing. “This might be funny to you, but I’m not going to let her poison the minds of my other students. She’s confused. She even went off about 'changing things'. Yes, she said that.” Blossom stood up and leaned towards Orange Picker’s parents. The expression of anger on her face made Planter look like a smiling foal in comparison. “My students are more confused about cutie marks than ever before, and I have to spend all of next week fixing the damage done with more presentations. One student even said that he's worried about getting his cutie mark now. Fix her behavior and get these crazy ideas out of her head. And no more excuses this time.”
Planter slammed both of his hooves on his desk. Cracks rippled out from the point of impact. “What do you mean excuses?” he yelled. “Me n my wife have tried everything. We’ve talked to her, grounded her, took her stuff away. She just won’t change.”
Juicer nodded. “You have to understand, there’s nothing we can do. One time we even hired this special disciplinary instructor from Canterlot that used to work with one of the Princes, but even she failed.”
Blossom calmed herself. She smiled. “I do understand, but Orange Picker has to be reformed, for her sake and her peers. I’m tired of seeing her skip class and spend all day alone doing Celestia knows what. I miss the sweet little filly she used to be. Whenever I see her covered in blood and cuts I nearly vomit. I’ve kept my mouth shut to her this long because I’ve been hopeful that she could change, but I’ve had enough of this.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “This is your last chance. One of the Princess’s special appointees on these issues is coming here in the next few days to evaluate Orange Picker. If she isn’t reformed by then…then I’m not responsible for what’ll happen to you.”
Juicer’s jaw dropped. Her eyes dried up and turned red. Planter’s right eye twitched. He shook. “That’s it. I’m finishing this,” he screamed. He got up and stormed to the door.
Juicer ran after him. “Just calm down. Please.” She put her hoof on him. He slapped it away.
“Not this time. I’ve had it with these meetings, the stress, our daughter.” He pointed at Blossom. “I’m not gonna let this self-righteous joke threaten us anymore.” He opened the door and stepped out of the building. “I’m gonna ‘reform’ Orange Picker so good we’re never gonna hear about her again.”
Orange Picker ran through the trees, one wrong step away from tripping on the sea of broken sticks and wet leaves on the ground below. The view in front of her was that of a black wall, as the dim moonlight couldn’t penetrate the many layers of treetops. A bear chased after her, and by the sound of its growls, was only a few steps away.
She jumped into a dense pocket of trees. They were only a foot or two away from each other, too close for the bear, but doable for her. Her hooves were still in pain from her activities that morning, but the she kept her mind on the mission at hoof and blocked it out. She contorted her body through every open space, and made it through. The bear’s growl receded. It was probably either stuck between two trees or trying to go around the pocket. She kept her speed the same and made sure not to speed up, as the hilly terrain meant that one slip up would send her rolling down hundreds of feet.
The pocket of trees ended, and OP found herself in the closest thing to a field her region of Equestria would allow for. The moonlight illuminated the path in front of her. The rocky bottom of a cliff stood ahead. Orange Picker had found her weapon.
A growl shot out from behind her. She turned around. The bear was only a few feet away, and gaining ground fast. Its teeth were each sharp and strong enough to pierce through rock and its open mouth was already dripping with drool. Orange Picker kept her heart rate down and did her best to let her adrenaline and state of panic die down. To her using those to increase performance was the same as cheating, and if she was going to do this she was going to do it right, with every disadvantage possible.
She sprinted to the cliff, giving it all she had, and climbed up. The bear stood at the bottom and growled. The sound of its roar shook the cliff. Orange Picker continued climbing and ignored the noises. The bear rammed the cliff, but her grip was too secured to give out from such a pathetic attack. She climbed higher, until she could see the tops of most of the smaller trees in the area. The bear climbed up too, and although its progress was slow, there was no doubt that it was would reach her.
OP locked onto the bear’s skull. She tensed her hooves and threw herself off the cliff. The bear growled and kept its mouth opened. As she fell she tensed her bottom hooves like a spring and kept her gaze focused on the top of the bear’s head. The bear was now less than a foot away. She extended her hooves as hard as she could and kickstomped its skull. A cracking noise louder than any growl rippled out, and the bear collapsed to the ground.
Orange Picker exhaled and caught her breath. The mission was over, but any chance of her patting herself on the back or even smiling had long since passed. She growled and kicked the dirt. “Twelve seconds longer than last night. Really? How can I still suck at this?” She clenched her jaw and nearly cried from her sense of failure.
------------------------------------------
Orange Picker walked through the woods, still growling. She looked around at the myriad of bushes around her. “Do they really have to look the same? Not even my fault if I can’t find it.” True to her word the bushes had no difference between them, down to the leaf, and even if they did there was no way to see it in the darkness.
She went to each one and kicked it. Every bush presented her with failure, and by the twenty somethingith one she was still empty hoofed. She growled and went to another one. “At least fighting bears was kinda fun.” She kicked it, but stopped halfway in. There was something hard inside. She pulled it out and dragged it onto the ground. It was her book, the one she had read that morning.
Orange Picker smiled and opened it. There was a pen on the inside and a list of to-dos on the pages opened to. The first line read Fight and beat bear. On the same page were other items like Learn how to draw a perfect map of Equestria, Wrestle a manticore, Learn Changeling, Do a thousand pushups, Perfect my singing voice, and Fight and beat Daring Doo. On the other page was only one item, written as large as the page as circled over a dozen times—Build a set of wings and horn.
OP picked up the pen but couldn’t get her eyes off the first line. “I did beat a bear, but it wasn’t a record. So does it count?” She stared at it for another few seconds. “What a retarded question.” She spit out the pen. “I sucked today. No doubt about it.” A burst of anger shot through her and she kicked a nearby rock until it shattered. She snorted and stood erect, looking for other objects to impose her suffering on.
A few seconds passed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Ugh. I gotta stop getting so pissed. I’m obviously gonna beat it tomorrow.”
Orange Picker turned back to her book. “So what’s next?” She read down the list and paused. “Memorizing the map it is.” She looked up at the sky. The moon was fully up and every star was visible. “Guess I gotta skip sleep again, but whatever.” OP closed her book and put it on her back. Her stomach rumbled. “And now for the worst part of the day, going home.” She exhaled and began to walk away. “Let's see what orange based dish I get today.”
The sound of leaves rustling and sticks breaking came from the woods, behind Orange Picker. She froze. The noise could’ve just been a bunny or something, but making an assumption like that was just plain stupid. After all, that bear did have friends. She kicked her book into a nearby bush and got into a fighting stance. Every muscle was loaded and ready to fire. She closed her eyes and propped up her ears.
The sound came again. OP launched herself towards it and extended her hoof to form a flying kick. All of her force was concentrated on the tip of her hoof.
A scream shot out from the source of the sound. It was a filly’s. Nectar stood in front of Orange Picker, right in the path of her skull cracking kick.
OP tilted herself mid-flight and impacted a tree. Her hoof impaled it and made its way inside. Nectar dropped to the ground and continued to scream with her hooves over her face. Orange Picker sighed with relief and took her hoof out of the tree. She turned to Nectar. “Nectar,” she said. The filly in question continued to scream, still on the floor. “Nectar,” Orange Picker screamed.
Nectar stopped screaming. She looked at her muddy but still intact hooves and chuckled. “Sorry.”
“What’s wrong with you? You wanna end up like that tree there or what?” Orange Picker said.
Nectar got up. “I said I’m sorry.”
Orange Picker growled and walked to her. “What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be doing homework or playing with your friends or something?”
“I was going to…” Nectar put her head down. “But my parents sent me here to get the juice out of some flowers for the family medicine business. But when I saw you I...kinda...followed you. You know, to see what you were doing.” She kept her head down but looked up at the filly in front of her.
Orange Picker was unsure of how to feel. She felt like calling Nectar out for the stalker that she was, but at the same time also felt weird out, and not from being followed. There was another, more important, issue at hoof. “Wait. How much did you see?”
Nectar picked up her head and smiled. “Everything,” she screamed. “I saw the whole thing. You totally destroyed that bear. I’ve never seen anything that cool in my life.”
OP looked away and blushed. “Thanks. “ She frowned. “About time somepony thought so. Wish you’d seen me another day though. I sucked today.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t think anypony in the village can take on a bear like you did, especially without wings or magic,” Nectar said.
Orange Picker smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time anypony had complimented her, that is, if anypony ever had. She paused and basked in the foreign sensation. “Wait…” The sensation disappeared. “Whatever happened to screaming like a pussy like you did this morning? Huh? I know the rest of you think I’m crazy. Not that I care, but still.”
“Well yeah I thought you were crazy before. No offense of course.” Nectar chuckled. “But after seeing what you can do I don’t care what you are.” She dropped her head and frowned. ‘I wish I could fight bears or do something that cool.”
OP stepped closer to Nectar and lifted her head. “Of course you can. You just think you can’t. Not like that’s your fault though.” She paused and smiled. “I can show you how to do it. It’s hard, but that’s why it feels so good when you actually do it.”
Nectar kept her head down. “No…it’s okay,” she said in her usual soft voice. “There’s no way I can ever do stuff like that. And I’m happy not being bear food.” She chuckled.
Orange Picker put her hoof around Nectar and reeled her in. “Stop doubting yourself. Seriously, that what’s wrong with the rest of you. Of course you can never do it if you don’t even try.” She let her go and stepped away. “And stop being such a whiner.” She glared at her. You’re nowhere near as bad as I was when I started.”
“Really?”
OP looked up at the moon and smiled. “You have no idea. I used to be the biggest disgrace I’ve ever met.” She chuckled. “To give you an idea of just how much I sucked, I couldn’t even walk to school without almost passing out. That’s why I’d always come in so sweaty.” She turned to Nectar. “And just in case that wasn’t pathetic enough, I was so shy I couldn’t even look Ms. B in the eye. Miss B.”
Nectar looked on but didn’t respond. Her mouth was open, like she was about to say something, but nothing came out. “So stop acting like you can’t do shit. There’s no reason you can’t be better than me. I want you to be. All of you,” Orange Picker said. Nectar still seemed unsure. She looked away and kept her mouth open. “So come on. You down?” Orange Picker paused. “And don’t worry. I’m obviously not gonna make you fight a bear on day one. It’ll be gradual. We’ll start with rabbits or something.”
“Now that’s what I was waiting for,” Nectar said, laughing. “Sure. I guess I’m…down. It’ll definitely be more fun than milking flowers, that’s for sure.” She and Orange Picker shared a chuckle. “You promise to go easy in the beginning though?”
“What’d I tell you about me and lying?” OP smiled so hard that her cheeks turned red. The redness was visible in the pitch blackness. “Cool. We’ll start tomorrow morning then. Right here.”
“But I have class then.”
Orange Picker’s smile came crashing down. She growled. “Seriously? You still wanna go after today’s horseshit? Please tell me you’re joking.”
“About that…” Nectar paused. “Why did you get so mad? Cutie marks are a good thing. They make us all special.”
Orange Picker put her hoof around Nectar. “Yeah, but some more special than others. You’ll get what I mean soon. Trust me. Just wait until you beat your first bear." Nectar stood confused and silent. OP ran to a nearby bush and grabbed her book. “I’m going home now. You know, gotta eat and stuff. See ya tomorrow.” She began to run away.”
“Okay…Bye,” Nectar said.
Orange Picker stopped. “Oh, and one more thing.” She smiled at Nectar. “Thanks.”
Orange Picker ran off deeper into the woods and towards the hills that surrounded the town. She danced as she ran, so much so that the book fell off her back multiple times. She couldn’t remember the last she was this happy; even if she had beaten a hundred bears it still wouldn’t have been close. It wasn’t that fact that she’d just made her first friend—if Nectar could even count as one—but that a pony had finally joined her cause. To her, that more than made up for any failures of the night.
As the forest ended Orange Picker found herself running on a series of hills that led to Las Pegasus, which was now the brightest thing in view, even compared to the moon. The hills all had farms and farmhouses, each catered to a different fruit. She ran to the one with an orange farm, which consisted of endless rows of orange trees and buckets beside them. The farmhouse, her house, was lit from the inside and leaked out chatter.
Orange Picker opened the door, still dancing. Her parents waited on the other side, pissed.
Orange Picker’s parents towered over her and glared down at her. Planter’s eyes twitched and he ground his teeth so hard they let out a screech with every movement. Juicer too looked angry, but it was obvious that her expression was half forced, compared to her husband’s which was one hundred percent pure rage. OP still smiled, as her euphoria from Nectar was still in effect. The sight of her parents caused her bliss to die down. She kept her smile and chuckled. “So what’s the punishment? And please try to be somewhat creative this time.”
Planter stepped forward. His grinding intensified. ”Punishment? You’ll wish I punished you. You have any idea what you made your mother n me go through?”
OP smirked. “Yeah. A ten to thirty minute long meeting where you all bitched about how bad and out of control I am, all while sitting on the best desks the school could afford, after hours of back breaking work in the fields without a second of break. You should be thanking me.” She walked past her parents and went into the living room.
Planter growled and turned around. He ran after her. “Hey. Don’t try n act smart.” She kept on smirking. “We’ve had to put up with a lot because of you.” He pointed at his wife who was still at the door. “Your mother can’t even go to the market without getting dirty looks, and that’s nothing compared to what she goes through when you’re out all the time doing Celestia knows what. But now you’ve got that teacher of yours threatening to send your mother n me to the dungeons.” He stomped the floor. His hoof dug deep into the earth. “The dungeons,” he screamed. “And all because of your little speech this morning. I’m not going anywhere because of you, you hear me ya little runt.” He turned to his wife. “And why are you so quiet? Say something already.”
Juicer walked to the others. She stood tall and glared at her daughter, but once again it was obvious that it was all just a show with her. She inhaled and pushed out her chest. “Your father’s right. This has gone on for years now, but you’ve finally pushed somepony too far this time.”
Orange Picker chuckled. “So this time I pushed somepony too far?” She showed her parents the bottom of her hooves. They were sprinkled with blood and cuts. Her father was unaffected, but Juicer gasped with her hoof over her mouth. “It wasn’t the thousands of absences, or all the wild animals I’ve fought, or even how I jumped off a cliff like fifty times this morning. It was because I spoke out against cutie marks. Gotta protect the youth right?”
Juicer walked closer to her daughter. “No, you have it all wrong. Miss Blossom cares about you, we all do, but-.”
“Yeah yeah, I know what you’re gonna say. But why then did Ms. B reach her breaking point now and not all the other times I came into class with cuts and stuff? Like you said, this has been going on for years,” OP said. Juicer didn’t respond. “Everything was fine when I was only a threat to myself, but now that I called out her horseshit I need to be stopped.”
“But it isn’t…that,” Juicer said. Her glare and angry look wore off. Her back hunched. “Cutie marks are-.”
“Please don’t gimme the speech again,” Orange Picker said. “I already heard it this morning. I’ve lost enough brain cells for one day.”
“Hey!” Planter moved his head closer to his daughter’s. “Don’t talk to your mother like that.” Orange Picker giggled. She’d always found it funny how it was the husband’s job to defend his wife’s honor and not her own. “Look, I don’t care if you think cutie marks are the work of Discord himself; you’re going to keep your mouth shut about them.” He bumped his daughter into the wall with his hoof. “Ya hear?”
She smiled. Planter’s hoof kept her glued to the wall. “No,” she said.
Planter pressed his hoof into her harder. “I’m tired of this,” he screamed. Orange Picker took the pain without a flinch. “Just listen to me. Please.”
Juicer ran to them and grabbed her husband’s hoof. “Stop this!” She yanked it away. Orange Picker was free. Juicer faced her husband. “How can you do this? She’s still your daughter.” Planter opened his mouth, but she put her hoof over it. “We don’t even know why she’s like this. Shouldn’t asking her be the first thing we do?”
Planter ripped her hoof away. “Stop acting like it’s some big mystery.” He glared at his daughter. “I know her kind. She thinks she’s bigger than the farm and us ‘simple folk.’ Probably lives by some motto like ‘Live life to the fullest’ or some other nonsense. There’s plenty of young ponies like her. She’s nothing special.”
Orange Picker tried to hold in her laughter, but couldn’t. “Who do you think I am? I’m actually offended that you think I’m that selfish. I’m not some walking cliché.”
Planter’s glare disappeared. “What? That’s not it…” He raised his voice. “Then what is it? What’s your problem?”
Orange Picker froze. A tightening pressure overtook her body. She couldn’t swallow her spit. It was a sensation she’d hadn’t felt for years, but one she knew she’d have to one day face again. She looked down. “Don’t worry about it…for now. I’ll tell you guys one day; I promise. Just not now.”
Planter stomped the ground. “No. No more games!”
“No. I’m not ready yet!” Orange Picker screamed back. She got into her fighting stance and locked onto her dad. If it was fight or confess before she was ready, then the choice was clear. Her mouth opened though, as if it had a mind of its own. The words wanted to come out, but she forced them down. It then hit her—she was afraid.
Orange Picker clenched her jaw and shivered from the thought of being binded by fear. She closed her eyes and exhaled. The words were free. She looked her parents in the eye. “Alright. Guess I might as well just say it. Gotta let it out sometime.” She paused. Her parents stayed silent. “The reason I do all this…is to prove it.”
Planter and Juicer looked at each other, still silent. Picker took a deep breath. “I want to prove that everypony can do a lot more than they think they can, and not just what some stamp on their ass says they should do. This isn’t for me; none of it is. I want to prove that it shouldn’t matter what you’re born as or meant to be. Cuz if a filly like me, who couldn’t even run a block without dying, can do more, then so can anypony else.”
Her parents remained silent and stared at her. She walked closer to them. “Don’t you get what I’m saying? Cutie marks, special talents, destiny, all that stuff, it makes ponies content when they’re capable of so much more. I mean think about; there's a reason technology in Equestria never improves that much. Ponies need an example to show them, and I'm gonna be that example." She raised her voice. "And it’s not like what pony gets what special talent is fair. One pony can be destined to be an orange farmer without wings or magic, while another could be Equestria’s best flyer or even a princess that can move the entire sun.” She stomped the ground. “How is that not horseshit? Huh? Tell me.”
Juicer stepped closer to her daughter and put her hoof over her. “Is that it?” She smiled. “Look, I know you feel strongly about this, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Cutie marks aren’t chains; a pony can do other things beside their special talent; there’s nothing stopping them.” Orange Picker faced away. “I know it might seem unfair, but everypony is happy doing their special talents. A pony meant to buck apples all day will enjoy their special talent just as much as one meant to be a Wonderbolt—maybe even more.”
OP shook her mother’s hoof off. “And that’s the problem. You’re all so content with it even though you’re the losers.” She stood tall and pointed at herself. “Take me for example. My special talent is obviously picking oranges; I’d have to be a retard not to figure that out. My destiny is to work in the fields for the rest of my life and nothing more, at least as far as my cutie mark is concerned. No matter what I do I’ll never be a princess, even if I can run the kingdom better than Celestia, just because I wasn’t lucky enough to be born an Alicorn and get a sun on my ass like her. And it’s not like I’m meant to master some magic like love either.”
Planter’s jaw dropped. He stood silent and switched back and forth between looking at Orange Picker and his wife, no doubt dumbstruck by what he was hearing. The sight of him unable to speak was as jarring as it was hilarious. He looked like a completely different pony. Juicer stepped in front of him. “Is that was this is all about? About being a princess?” she said.
Orange Picker’s head shot back. “What? No.” She laughed on the inside. “It’s the principle I’m talking about.” She pointed at her parents. “Like you two. You’ll never be more than a bunch of orange farmers in some town that doesn’t even have a name, when you’re capable of so many great things if you go after them. You’ll never be famous. Nopony outside of this town will ever know your name. Why doesn’t that bother you?”
Her parents turned to each other for a second. They turned back to her. “It just…doesn’t,” Juicer said. She smiled. “I’d die a happy mare if I could work in the fields and juice oranges till the day I die. Same with your father here.” She turned to Planter. “Isn’t that right honey?” He didn’t respond and was still paralyzed. His eyes were twice their normal size.
Orange Picker growled. She raised her hooves into the air. “Can’t say I’m surprised. This is exactly why I spoke up in class today. The only reason you all are like this is because they shove this special talent and self-discovery crap down your throats since day one.”
“Nope,” Juicer said, still smiling. “I would’ve juiced oranges no matter what anypony said. Always wanted to. Always will.”
Orange Picker was at a loss for words. She kept her mouth open and stuttered some indecipherable babble. No matter what she thought of, no matter how good the argument, Jucier’s smile beat her down and kept her silent. She growled. “Yeah…well just wait until I’m done then.” She smiled menacingly. “One day I’ll get more ponies on my side and change this place forever. Then you’ll see.” Juicer still smiled. “In my Equestria everypony’ll get an equal chance to be great, not just those that win some lottery. Everypony’ll be able to fly and do magic. And if not me then sompeony else will do it.”
“Okay,” Juicer said. She caressed her daughter. “And I’ll be right here, still making juice.”
Orange Picker glared at Juicer. She paused and opened her mouth. Nothing. She growled and ran out of the house.
-----------------------------------------------
Orange Picker ran away from the farm and to a nearby hill. She kicked the ground, making her way several inches into the hill. The moonlight illuminated the many worms and critters on the ground. “Ugh. Did I really just get schooled by my mom?” She sat down and exhaled. “Maybe she’s right though? I mean if she can beat me then it’s probably not that strong of an argument. “She lay down and spread her hooves. “And it’s not like she was totally wrong either. She loves making juice; no denying that. But how can that be the only thing she wants to get good at?”
OP rolled around and looked up at the moon. She sighed. “Either this place deserves a medal for brainwashing its ponies so good, or I’m crazier than I thought.” She chuckled. “But either way, guess the revolution’s never happening. So much for that dream.”
Hoofsteps came from the far side of the hill. OP got up. Nectar and her parents walked together, smiling and laughing. Orange Picker watched as they got closer. Nectar saw her and ran closer. “Hey OP, what are you doing here? Still fighting bears?” she said, laughing.
Orange Picker laughed along. The fact that it wasn’t sincere made her feel dirty. “Na, I’m done with that. Just chillin, and stuff. What about you?”
“Having an after dinner walk with my family.” Nectar’s family waved at them. “We do this every night. It’s kind of a tradition in my family actually.” OP looked down and frowned. “You okay? You seem sad.” Nectar nudged her. “I know what’ll cheer you up.” She smiled. “My family said they’re okay with letting me skip class tomorrow. We can train all day.”
Orange Picker growled and stepped away. Her mother's face returned to her. “Sorry, but I can’t go. If you wanna go then do it, but I’m not coming.”
Nectar’s jaw dropped. “B-But…huh? What happened?”
Orange Picker turned to her. She kept her head down. “I got a question Nectar. Do you like your special talent?”
Nectar paused. Her family walked away, continuing their stroll without her. “Maybe…? If I knew what it was it is.”
OP stepped closer to her. “Don’t be retarded. It’s obvious what your special talent is.” Nectar froze. “Your name’s Nectar. Your parents sent you to get the nectar from those flowers to heal. You're even the same color as nectar. It’s not like it’s some masterfully kept secret. It never is.”
Nectar giggled. “Actually, that makes a lot of sense. Pretty funny I never figured it out before. So yeah, I do like it. I’ve loved healing sick animals ever since I can remember.” She froze, “Oh,” and looked at her backside. It glowed, and out of the glow came a blue flower on the inside of a red drop. She smiled and jumped around with joy, squeeing all the while. Orange Picker frowned. “I can’t believe it. I wish my family was here. Finally. Woo hoo.” Nectar turned to her friend. Her smile dropped. “Sorry…I guess.”
“Na, you can be happy. My fault for being such a killjoy.” Orange Picker chuckled. “Guess I’ll never know that feeling. I’ve always hated my special talent. And I’m not talking about some generic, run of the mill hate; I’d rather-.”
“Yeah yeah. I think I know what you’re going to say,” Nectar said. Orange Picker and her shared a laugh.
“Just never got why I never liked it. I mean, isn’t it a part of our souls or bodies or whatever you wanna call it that we’re supposed to like our special talent?”
“Well then…what do you like?” Nectar said.
Orange Picker looked up at the moon. She thought back to all the times she was ever happy. Fighting bears, learning new languages, making wings—beating goals. She thought back to the days when talking to a stranger was just as scary as a bear, and her mom had to carry her to school. A pair of Bat Ponies flew in the sky. She imagined herself with them, diving through the air faster than anypony had ever gone before. Her back felt bare. It was an impossible dream, one that according to everypony else would never come true. She smiled and looked around for her book. A thrill came over her. There was another goal to beat, and another time to prove it.
