Fillies fight, colts fall in love, and foals grow up in this tale following the Cutie Mark Crusader's class through their time in middle school.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders and their class move on to high school! Well, middle school, but it's in the same building, so it counts, right? Tag along for the ride as fillies fight, colts fall in love, and everyone's favorite group of foals grows up. Told from the perspective of various ponies; features the ponies and backstories of a few of my favorite works, both here and on tumblr.
Applebloom sat with her head on the table, looking dejectedly out the window of the old clubhouse. The sun was setting slowly over the horizon.
“Ah can't believe it,” she moaned, turning to her fellow Crusaders. “Summer's over, an' we still don' have our cutie marks!”
Scootaloo gave a noncommittal grunt from where she was lying on the floor. “That and school's starting back up tomorrow,” she added.
Sweetie Belle offered a smile. “Well, middle school should be more fun. I mean, it's in the same building as the high school, so there will be more ponies and different kinds of activities.”
“Harder classes and older foals to beat the crap out of us?” Scootaloo asked, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I'm ecstatic.”
“Hey, there's sports and stuff you can do,” Sweetie Belle defended herself. “And the high school is on a different schedule, so the older foals shouldn't bother us too much.”
Scootaloo shrugged, saying nothing.
Applebloom looked between the other two. “D'you think we'll get teased for not having our cutie marks?”
“I'm sure there are other foals that haven't gotten theirs yet,” Sweetie offered. “Maybe we can recruit for the Crusaders!”
“Yeah,” Scootaloo agreed. “Plus, if there aren't any, we can always just try to fly under the radar.”
Applebloom raised an eyebrow skeptically. “With Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon running around?”
Scootaloo shrugged. “Well, it is bigger than our elementary school. We'll have a bigger class, so if worse comes to worse, we can always avoid them.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall of the clubhouse. “I should probably get going now.”
“Me too,” Sweetie Belle added, checking the clock as well. “I wouldn't want Rarity to get worried.” She stood up and opened the door, letting Scootaloo out. “See you at school tomorrow,” she said, waving at Applebloom before closing the door behind her.
“See ya,” Applebloom called back at the closed door. She sat in the clubhouse for a while, watching the sun slowly melt on the horizon over the West Orchard. When only a sliver of the sun was still visible over the fruit bat-infested trees, she, too, got up to leave.
The walk back through the orchard was silent, and Applebloom watched the stars appear through the branches of the apple trees. She walked around the barn, let herself in through the back door, and climbed up the kitchen stairs. Slipping into the bathroom, she turned on the shower, letting it run over her hoof until she was satisfied that it was warm enough. She stepped inside.
As the warm water ran over her shoulders, her thoughts turned again to the upcoming school year. She hadn't told Sweetie or Scootaloo, but she was worried about it. Their friendship was mostly centered around finding their cutie marks; aside from their obvious blank flanks, they didn't have a whole lot in common. She'd been worried about their friendship for a while now— mostly about how it would be affected if one of them actually managed to get a cutie mark— and like Sweetie had said, there would be more opportunities to try new things than ever in middle school.
Applebloom tipped some shampoo onto her hoof, letting her thoughts drift. She wasn't a stellar student, but she was good enough that she figured she'd be able to get on fairly well academically. Aside from the state of her friendships, there was one other worry that had been nagging at her mind. Colts— well, one colt in particular, really— were starting to seem... well, noticeable. She hadn't brought it up with her friends at all, and her sister never seemed to discuss colts either, so she wasn't entirely sure how or what to feel about the issue, but whenever Featherweight came close, she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks and she'd start to stammer a bit.
Applebloom rubbed the conditioner into her mane, working it in with her hooves. She wondered vaguely if Featherweight would be bothered by her accent. She'd never really liked her own voice, but perhaps he wouldn't mind it. It was doubtful that he'd ever actually noticed it, though, since they'd never really had a conversation. She shut off the shower, ruefully watching the last suds swirl around the drain before being sucked down it.
She grabbed her towel off the hook on the bathroom door and began to dry herself off. Maybe she'd get a chance to talk to Featherweight now that they were moving onto middle school. Maybe, just maybe, something could happen between them.
Applebloom dumped her towel in the laundry hamper on the way to her room. After setting her alarm, she burrowed under the covers, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
“Come on,” Pipsqueak called from up ahead. “We don't want to be late for our first day.”
Featherweight was trotting behind his friend, trying to keep up while fiddling with his camera. He shivered, eying Pip's scarf enviously. Sure, he did have his ratty old coat in his saddlebags, but he wanted to make a good impression, to look cool— and especially to not look like he was the perfect size to be shoved inside a locker.
Pip didn't seem to ever have these problems. Despite his being smaller than even Featherweight (albeit slightly stockier), nopony ever seemed to pick on him. He always seemed to naturally become the leader of everything. Though he wasn't a tall or imposing figure, there was a feeling surrounding him, a sense of confidence that he exuded. Featherweight never seemed to feel the same about his own environs.
They'd first met when Pipsqueak's family moved in right next door to Featherweight's house a little over two years ago, and over the course of that summer, they had become best friends. Featherweight hadn't exactly been cool before he'd become friends with Pip— he'd been a little bit of a loner, actually— but being friends with Pipsqueak soon changed that for him. Pipsqueak was cool, what with his British accent and European fashion sense, and so Featherweight had become cool by extension. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon suddenly knew his name, and he never had to sit with Twist at lunch anymore.
It was a bit challenging sometimes, yeah. He was always living in Pip's shadow. Pip was the one who had a fillyfriend, who knew about all sorts of stuff. So mostly Featherweight just stuck to his photography and let Pip handle the whole social aspect of everything.
“... Featherweight?” Pip's voice cut through his thoughts.
“Sorry, what was that?” The two rounded a corner.
“Have you read the newest issue of 'Power Ponies' yet?”
Featherweight shook his head. “Sorry, I've been busy trying to put a portfolio together for the photo teacher at school.”
Pip laughed. “You're taking photo this semester then?”
Featherweight smiled. “You bet! I can't wait to check out the school's dark room.”
“You really do have a one track mind,” Pipsqueak teased him. “Photography this, photography that—”
“—Oh, shut up.”
The two walked up the stairs together and pushed their way through the school's doors. As they navigated through the pony-filled foyer, Pip rummaged through his saddlebags and pulled out his schedule. Featherweight followed suit.
“I've got locker eighty-seven,” Pipsqueak read. “Looks like that's down here. What about you?”
“Ninety-two, so I should be fairly close. I've got English and Science before lunch,any overlap?” Featherweight asked, pushing between two groups of giggling fillies.
“Yeah, I'm in your English class, but I've got maths second period,” Pipsqueak told him, making a face.
The two came to the end of the hallway and found their lockers. Featherweight began to unload his books into his locker, picking out the ones he would need for English.
While he was sorting his books, Snails came up and opened the locker beside him; they exchanged a casual greeting. He was part of their social circle— Pipsqueak and Featherweight, Snips, Snails, and Dinky before she'd left and definitely a friend, but he was on the fringe of the group. He didn't read 'Power Ponies' or play hoofball with them, always opting to sit out of the more exciting stunts that their group pulled. After he and Snips had grown apart, he'd mostly hang out with Dinky; when she'd left, it had put him at kind of an awkward place. Still, he was a friend, certainly a better locker mate than, say, Diamond Tiara would be. Featherweight didn't think that she'd ever forgive him for taking over the editing of the Foal Free Press, and even without any reason for her to be angry, he was still terrified of her.
At that moment the bell rang, and Featherweight and Snails finished shoving the last of their books into their lockers and ran to catch up with Pipsqueak, who was walking to class with Snips. They hurried into the English room and found four seats together near the middle of the room.
* * *
Featherweight slipped into his desk beside Pipsqueak as the bell rang. He recognized several of the faces in the English class— there was Pipsqueak beside him, as well as Snips and Snails in front of them. Over at the other side of the room, Rumble was talking to Button about some new video game, and those three slightly weird fillies— the cutie mark club, or something like that— were talking amongst themselves in the corner. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were behind him, giggling at some other pony's expense, and Twist sat in her customary seat in the center of the front row. Applebloom glanced up and caught his eye before looking away, and he wondered if her group was talking about him.
At that moment, a stallion entered the room. He had a dark brown coat and a book on his flank, and his trot had a distinctive bounce to it; to Featherweight, he seemed a good deal more energetic than he ought to be.
“All right, settle down,” he called out, slowly bringing down the dull clamor of the room. “Welcome to English class! I'm Mr. Limerick, and I'll be your teacher.” He picked up a stack of papers from his desk. “I thought, it's a new school year, and your very first class in middle school... so why not start it off with your very first pop quiz!”
There was a collective groan from the class. “You have ten minutes to complete this quiz,” he told them, walking along the desks, handing out thick wads of paper to each student. He set the last one down on Diamond Tiara's desk and glanced up at the clock. “All right... on your marks... begin!”
There was a sound of pages flipping as the class opened their tests. Featherweight read:
1.)Read through the entire quiz. 2.)Rub your tummy and pat your head at the same time 3.)Stand on your desk. You've always wanted to, haven't you? 4.)Shake hands with some other pony taking the test. 5.)...
Featherweight glanced up at the clock. He'd already lost a minute, and the questions continued on for three pages. He started rubbing his tummy and patting his head immediately.
As he got up on his desk, he couldn't help but glance around at the other test takers. It was amusing to watch Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon running around and doing the various activities, but it was even more curious to see that some ponies weren't even trying. Maybe they realized that it was a futile aim to finish?
After a few more minutes of running around, he heard Mr. Limerick call “time!” He had just barely managed to finish number 31 (“Draw a smiley face”, just onto the second of three pages). Immediately, a bunch of ponies began to complain.
“That was impossible!” he heard Diamond Tiara whining from behind him. Despite their differences, he couldn't help but agree with her.
Mr. Limerick went up to the fillies near the front. “You there, what's your name?”
“Me? I'm Scootaloo!”
“And how do you think you did.”
“Uh... I probably failed.”
He took a step over. “How about you, young filly?”
Sweetie Belle cringed. “I think I probably failed as well.”
“And you?” he asked, turning to Applebloom. She had a smug expression on her face.
“Ah think ah aced it,” she replied.
There were a couple shouts of disbelief from around her.
“These ponies seem incredulous,” Mr. Limerick told her. “Perhaps you'd like to explain why you think you aced it?”
“Well, uh, sure.” Applebloom turned around to address her classmates. “How many of you actually did the first question?”
Featherweight glanced back down at his test. He hadn't completed “1.) Read through the entire quiz,” sure. He'd felt like he didn't have time.
“Well, why don't you do it now,” Applebloom told the class.
Featherweight read through the questions again, right down to “99.) If you actually read the whole quiz like Question 1 asked, disregard Questions 2 through 98.”
There was more groaning from the class.
“Now,” said Mr. Limerick, standing back up in front of them. “This quiz won't be graded. This was just a little experiment to play around with our perceptions of directions and what they mean. That's why we'll be focusing on this year. Directions and authority, and what they mean to us. We'll cover the basic aspects of the equestrian government, read some of the more prominent works of civil disobedience, and work on recognizing the place that authority has in an egalitarian society such as our own.
“Now, we're just about finished for this period, but I'd like to go over your homework assignment. Over the course of this class, we're all going to be keeping diaries. Now, I don't care what you write in your diary. You could write about what happened in your day, you could write a short story, or you could write about how much you hate English class. I won't be checking what it says, I'll just be checking to make sure that you've done it. So your assignment for tomorrow is to write your first diary entries. Class dismissed.”
And with that, the usual flood for the exit commenced.
* * *
“How was your day?”
Featherweight dropped his bag on the sofa. Whenever his mom wasn't home— which was getting to be more and more often now— he was able to leave his stuff wherever he wanted. He supposed that some of his friends would enjoy the freedom, but it just made him feel a little bit of a pang inside.
“It was good. I've already got a fair bit of homework, and it's only the first day.” He sauntered over to join his dad at the kitchen table. His dad, Buff Biceps, was fairly different from him, but they managed to get along okay. There was always a sort of nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he was disappointing his father in some way, but his father never ragged on him about anything. “I've got to do a diary entry for English, contact my lab partner for science, and I've got to do some history research by Wednesday. Plus I want to finish getting my portfolio together, since I've got photo tomorrow. How was your day?”
“Fine. The gym's been busier than usual lately, but it's probably just since it's getting colder outside, and ponies want to exercise indoors more. You didn't see your mom on the way to school, did you?”
Featherweight shook his head. Buff frowned down at his beer.
“Well, I'd better get to my homework. Mind if I use the phone?”
His father waved a hoof. “Nah, go right ahead.”
Featherweight took the phone of it's hook and the phone-book from its drawer before retreating to the confines of his room. He flopped down on his bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, before he flipped open the book. He dialed the numbers carefully, making sure to only press one button each time with the very corner of his hoof; he hated wrong numbers. He put the phone to his ear.
Riiiiiiinnnngggg. He waited. Riiiiiiinnnngggg. He heard a clunk of the phone being picked up.
“Sweet apple acres, what can we do ya for?”
“Um, hey. This is Featherweight. I'm calling to talk to Applebloom.” He closed the phonebook on his bed.
“Hold yer horses fer just a second, Ah'll go get her.” He heard the sound of a hoof covering the phone. “Big Mac, have you seen Applebloom?” he heard her muffled voice filter through the phone.
“Eeyup.”
“Is she in her room?”
“Eeyup.”
“APPLEBLOOM!” Some crunchy noises filtered through the phone. “Phone call.”
Finally, he heard a couple more thumps, and then his classmate's voice. “Hello?”
“Um, hey Applebloom. It's Featherweight.”
“Oh, uh, hey.”
“Just calling since, you know, we're supposed to contact our lab partners and make sure that we can and all that.”
“Oh, uh... yeah.” There was a pause. “Well, tha's done, Ah guess. Anythin' else?”
“Um, no. Not really.”
“Well, see you in school tomorrow.”
“Yeah. I'm really excited to take photo. Are you taking it?”
“No. I'm taking wood shop. I think. Um, yeah.”
“All right.” There was another pause.
“Well, bye, Ah guess.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. Bye.” The phone disconnected with a buzzing sound.
Featherweight set it down beside the bed. Now that that was out of the way, he could get to the important stuff. He pulled out his photography portfolio and began sorting through the photos. Middle school was going to be tough, sure. At least he had his photography.
Diamond Tiara pulled her friend's paper over toward her. “What'd you get for problem one?” she asked Silver Spoon. “I, like, totally didn't get what we were supposed to be doing there.”
Silver Spoon glanced over at Diamond Tiara's paper. She had copied out the problem and then drawn a very detailed bubble-letter question mark beneath. Silver Spoon scratched out the question mark with her quill. “See, to get what x equals, you have to cross multiply,” she said, drawing lines between the various terms. “Here.” She pushed the paper back to Diamond. “You try now.”
Diamond Tiara scratched her quill on the edge of her desk. She'd been friends with Silver Spoon long enough to know that Silver wouldn't be any fun until she'd finished her homework, but she just couldn't hold it in. “Do you think Rumble is hot?” she asked.
“What?” Silver Spoon looked up from the problem that she'd been working on.
Silver Spoon gave a noncommittal grunt. She flipped a page in her math book. “I mean, sure, I guess. I don't know. I've never really looked.” Silver pushed her glasses back up; they had slipped down to the tip of her nose. “Why?”
“I don't know.” Diamond Tiara turned back to her math homework. “So who do you think is hot?” she asked, trying to make it sound offhand.
Silver Spoon shrugged. “I don't really have a crush on any of the colts in our class right now.” She scribbled an answer in her notebook.
“Oh.” Diamond Tiara sat back in her chair. She wanted to talk more about Rumble, but it felt weird to bring it up. She contented herself with doodling hearts in the margins of her notebook while she waited for Silver Spoon to finish the math homework; she would do it later.
After a couple more minutes, Silver Spoon set down her quill. “Do you want to head down to Sugarcube Corner?” she asked Diamond. “I could use something sweet.”
“Sure,” Diamond replied, hastily crossing out the embarrassing doodles in her margins. “Let me go tell Randolph where we're going.” She hopped off of the chair that she'd been sitting on and trotted out into the hallway.
Diamond Tiara had been worried about Silver Spoon for a while now. Even as the summer had been winding down, she'd been wondering about their relationship, and now that they were in a new and bigger school, she was even more afraid that their friendship might fall apart. It was more of a mutual respect than anything. Even over the last year, Silver had been growing more and more distant, only hanging around once a week or so. Diamond Tiara had sometimes wondered if Silver was hanging out with other fillies; she knew it was silly, but sometimes she was afraid that if Silver Spoon started making other friends, Silver would forget about her.
She was rudely jarred out of her thoughts when she bumped into Randolph, the butler. “Do watch where you're going, Miss Tiara,” he chided her in a kindly manner.
“Uh, yeah.” Diamond Tiara shook her head in an attempt to clear it. “Me and Silver Spoon were going to head down to Sugarcube Corner. Tell Dad when he's not busy, okay?”
“Of course, Miss Tiara.” He offered her a thin smile. “But do try to watch where you're going, eh?”
She rolled her eyes. Although he was getting on in years, and she found his wheezy laugh rather off-putting, she still held a soft spot in her heart for Randolph. His teasing was done with a genuine heart, and she'd known him her whole life.
Diamond pushed open the door to her room. Silver Spoon was packing up her saddlebag. Diamond Tiara jerked her head at the door. “Randolph says it's fine. You ready?”
Silver Spoon nodded and followed Diamond out of the room and down the stairs.
Diamond Tiara took a deep breath as they exited the house. The air had that same cool, crisp back-to-school flavor. The biting feel of it rinsed the smell from her nose. She knew her father tried to keep the house perfect, but it bothered her that it always reeked of that “new car” sort of smell, as though the house was only actually another object to show off. It was just a subtle hint that the mansion, in all it's glory, wasn't really lived in.
The two fillies made their way down the gently sloping street towards the center of town. Both Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon lived in the Heights, the more affluent district on the edge of Ponyville. Stinkin' Rich had built their house on the hills outside of town not long after he'd settled, and Filthy Rich— that was her father— had been building expansions on the house since it had been passed on to him. Slowly, after Stinkin' had settled, several other families had cropped up in the area. Streets were cobbled, streetlights were installed, and conveniences were made accessible, and soon real estate in the Heights had become some of the most sought-after in all of Equestria.
They turned a corner past Carousel Boutique. The town hall was up ahead, and Sugarcube Corner not far after. The two carried a comfortable silence with them as they walked through the center of Ponyville, each filly consumed in her own thoughts.
As the two fillies arrived at Sugarcube Corner, Diamond Tiara pushed open the door, causing the bell above it to ring. Pinkie Pie bounced out of the kitchen, beaming as usual.
“What can Ah do ya for?” she asked in an uncanny impression of the Applejack's southern twang, causing the two fillies to exchange giggling looks. “Th' usual Ah take it?”
Diamond Tiara took a slight bit of pride in the way in which Pinkie Pie had their name and usual orders memorized; she almost felt as though it garnered her acceptance into some sort of exclusive club of Sugarcube Corner regulars. True, Pinkie knew everyone in Ponyville, and probably all of their usual orders as well, so it wasn't really that exclusive, but she'd take her pride where she could get it.
The two fillies nodded and fished out a few bits; Pinkie rushed into the back to start preparing their drinks. Diamond Tiara had never really understood why teachers yelled at you so much when you excluded other foals. Sure, it could hurt if you were the one being excluded; that was part of life. Life wasn't fair. But there was also an upside. When something is exclusive, she'd realized at a young age, it's worth that much more to be a part of it. There was a reason why most ponies would rather go to Hoofvard University than Canterlot Community College, and it wasn't just superior teaching. There was an allure, a glamor, inherent in exclusivity, yet among fillies and colts, it was simply considered mean. The entire concept was really just a giant double standard. The two fillies nabbed their favorite two seats— a few of the stools on the counter that ran along the bakery's window.
Pinkie Pie whizzed out of the back room, carrying two overflowing metal cups. “Two vanilla milkshakes,” she announced. “One for you,” she said, laying one down in front of Silver. “And one for you.” She put the other one in front of Diamond Tiara, flipping a straw into it. “Enjoy!”
The two fillies looked out the window at the street outside. A small brown colt who Diamond thought she recognized from one of her classes walked by, his nose buried in his Joy Boy. He had a rather odd propeller hat beanie on, causing Diamond Tiara to snicker.
“Look what he's wearing!” she whispered to Silver Spoon. “Did he fish that hat out of the garbage, or did a pegasus just vomit up a rainbow on his head?” She took a self-satisfied sip of her milkshake, glancing over at her friend.
Silver didn't respond immediately. She sat for a few seconds, stirring her straw in her milkshake. Her gaze was averted from Diamond Tiara's incessant glances as she sat in thought. After a while she tucked a lose strand of her mane behind her ear and turned to face Diamond Tiara.
“Diamond, why do we pick on ponies so much?” she asked, her voice steady but quiet.
Diamond Tiara was taken aback. “What?”
“I mean, why do we even care about how ugly that colt's hat is?” she looked away again. Her voice was slightly flat, almost to the point of sounding rehearsed. “We don't know him. I've never seen him before in my life. What has he ever done to offend you?”
Diamond shrugged. “Geez, chill out Silver. It was just a joke.” She stirred her milkshake. “What do you want me to do, apologize or something?”
Silver shrugged. “I really should be going now.” She looked hurt for some reason, as if the insult had been directed at her rather than at the colt outside. “My parents will be getting worried.”
“Oh, come on Silver. Your parents know you always spend Monday afternoons at my place.” Diamond looked incredulously at her friend. “You know, if you don't want to spend the rest of the day with that, you could just tell me.” She tried to keep her voice in check, but it was still rising along with her anger.
“All right, fine then.” Silver slipped off of her stool, and placed the empty frappe cup in the self-bus bin. “I don't really want to spend the rest of the day with you. You spend your time thinking up petty insults, you aren't even a good student, you're a clingy friend, you're a control freak, you have no regard for other ponies' feelings, and the only reason anypony ever looks up to you is because you have a rich dad.” Silver's voice was rising as well in a shrill crescendo that was practically abrasive to Diamond's ears. “You have no redeeming qualities at all. You're sitting around dreaming about Rumble when he probably thinks you're a bitch, just like the rest of the ponies in our class.”
“Wait, don't—”
“— No, I won't wait. Don't you get it Diamond? Ponies don't think you're cool anymore. They've all grown up.” She turned to walk out the door, but paused on the threshold, turning around to look at Diamond Tiara one last time.
“Where's my lunch?” Sweetie Belle poked her head through the door into Rarity's room. “Didn't you say you were going to put my lunch in the refrigerator?”
Rarity's hooves worked a piece of cloth through her sewing machine. Her mane was frazzled, as though she'd been up all night. “I did, darling,” she replied without looking up. “It should be in there. Did you check the bottom shelf?” She began to stitch the seam.
“I checked!” Her voice was beginning to peak into particularly squeaky annoyance at her sister. “It's not in there!”
Rarity sighed and put down the fabrics she was working with. “All right, let's see if we can find it.” She trotted out the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. After only a few seconds of sifting through the produce on the bottom shelf, she uncovered a brown paper bag.
“I swear, it wasn't there before!” Sweetie squeaked.
“Uh-huh.” Rarity rolled her eyes again. “Are you sure you've got everything you need?”
“Yeah. I've got my lunch, my jacket, and lyrics to our new Cutie Mark Crusader's Theme Song.” She held the paper up towards Rarity's face.
“Eh... a new theme song?” Rarity shuddered at the dreadful thought of their performance of the original a few years previously. “What for?”
“There's going to be an all middle-school talent show, so we thought we might do another song. After all, last talent show it was such a big hit.” Sweetie Belle pulled her coat on. “Although we were thinking that we might switch up jobs a little bit.”
Rarity turned on the coffeemaker. “How so?”
“Have you seen the clubhouse? Applebloom's been adding to it ever since Applejack gave it to us, and it looks amazing. I bet she'd be a natural at set-building!” Sweetie Belle pushed the door open. “Anyway, I'll see you this afternoon.”
“Hang on!” Rarity called her back. “Aren't you going to Mom and Dad's after school?”
“Oops. Right. See ya later!” She quickly bolted out the door, eager to get to school.
The coffeemaker shut off, and Rarity poured herself a mug. It wasn't that she didn't like having her sister around, but it was certainly stressful; she had a huge order to fill for tomorrow, and could use a break from the constant responsibility of having to keep Sweetie Belle entertained. Having Sweetie stay with their parents for the night would allow her to focus on her work and hopefully complete her order in time for her weekly spa trip with Fluttershy.
At that moment, the door opened again and Sweetie Belle burst in. She grabbed her saddlebags off a nearby chair and ran out again, throwing a “bye, Rarity” over her shoulder.
Rarity sighed again. Foals were stressful.
* * *
Sweetie Belle walked briskly towards the school, glancing every so often at the Ponyville clock tower. She'd been a little scatter-brained this morning, and she'd spent a little bit too long talking to Rarity, and as a result, she was running late. Her pace increased.
It was cool and slightly overcast; Sweetie was glad she'd remembered her jacket. She wondered vaguely if the other fillies would think it was fashionable.
Unlike Applebloom or Scootaloo, she was having no trouble adjusting to the steep hike in academic standards at Middle School. She simply had to keep doing her work the way she'd always done it— on time and to her teachers standards. Sometimes she just didn't get it when Scootaloo and Applebloom complained about having too much work. Wasn't that the point?
No, the biggest changes for her were social. With her friends so bogged down with work— Scootaloo actually had to take tutoring— she was finding less and less time to hang out with them. As a result, Sweetie Belle had been exploring the different after-school clubs and extracurricular activities. Some of them seemed fun, and Rarity said they might help her get into college. That was a long way off, but still... it never hurt to be prepared. And these extracurricular activities had other foals, some of which Sweetie Belle was starting to get to know.
At first she'd felt a sort of guilt; a feeling of 'I'm friends with these ponies that Applebloom and Scootaloo don't know.' But she figured it wasn't as if she couldn't make other friends... right?
Sweetie Belle was rudely interrupted from her thoughts when she had to jump out of the way of the scooter barreling down the hill towards her from the heights. She let out a high-pitched shriek as she dodged aside.
“Scootaloo! Watch where you're going!” she squeaked in anger.
Scootaloo rubbed the back of her head. “Heh, sorry about that. I just love taking that hill top speed.” She paused. “Wait, why aren't you at school yet?”
Sweetie Belle cringed, turning slightly red. “I had, um... some organizational difficulties.”
“Seriously Sweetie?” Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “You forgot your saddlebags again?”
“Hey, just because I'm slightly organizationally challenged—”
“— slightly? That's the second time you've forgotten it this week!”
“Okay, maybe a little more than slightly...” she glanced back at the hill. “Wait, why where you up there anyway?”
“Up where?” Scootaloo was keeping a lazy pace on her scooter so that her friend could keep up.
“You came down from the Heights.”
“Oh, uh... right.” She paused. “I fancied a more scenic route to school.”
“Right.” They turned the corner in amicable silence.
“Are you ready for the talent show?” Scootaloo asked.
Sweetie nodded. “We're still on to do the new and improved Cutie Mark Crusader's Theme Song, right?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess. I might be a little bit busy.” Scootaloo offered an apologetic smile.
“The workload's that heavy for you?” Sweetie asked, slightly incredulous.
Scootaloo scratched behind her ear. “Well, there's that, but...” she trailed off.
“But...?” Sweetie pressed. “But what?”
“Well, I, uh, thought I might try out for the hoofball team.”
“That's awesome! To be honest, I tried out for A Capella myself, but I'm pretty sure I absolutely blew the audition.”
Scootaloo stopped Sweetie, placing her hooves on Sweetie's shoulders. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “You're practically the best singer in all of Ponyville! You're gonna nail it!”
Sweetie Belle blushed, but said nothing.
“Oh, come on,” Scootaloo persisted. “You know it's true,” she poked, trying to elicit a smile from Sweetie.
“There were lots of ponies there who were better singers than me.” She pushed open the door and held it. “After you, Miss Scootaloo,” she said with a mock bow. “Oh hey,” she exclaimed, brightening up. “That rhymes!”
Scootaloo sighed, walking through the doorway.
* * *
“Sweetie Belle?”
She stood up from her desk and walked to the front of the room, where she took the piece of chalk from Mrs. Quotient with her magic. The glow surrounding her horn faltered slightly, but she managed to keep the piece of chalk afloat.
“You can solve this equation for x, leaving you with x = 2y + 6. Then you can plug that in for x in the other equation.” She did so. “This gives you 3(2y + 6) + 4y = 3, which you can solve for y by distributing the 3 and simplifying. You get 10y = -15, so y = -1.5. Then you can plug that back into the original equation to get x = 3.” She stood back, and a few scratches on the chalkboard later, she set the chalk back on the tray underneath the board.
“Very good, Sweetie Belle.” Mrs. Quotient glanced up at the clock. “All right, I'm afraid I have to let you foals go now. Please finish up numbers 9-25 odds for homework.” She waved her hoof. “Class dismissed.”
There was the same immediate rush for the exit that usually ensued. Sweetie Belle hung back with Applebloom and Scootaloo.
“What've we got next?”
Applebloom checked her schedule. “Lunch. An' good thing, too. Ah'm hungry as a horse.”
The turned into the hallway and followed the rush of students towards the Cafeteria. As they passed a group of colts, Applebloom fished a brown paper bag out of her saddlebag and stepped back. “Ah'll meet y'all outside,” she called.
Sweetie waved her hoof, and then squeezed her way over to her locker. Scootaloo followed her, grabbing a lunchbox from her own locker. They then managed to push through the throngs of ponies to the double doors that led out towards the fields, where they spotted Applebloom and Twist sitting under some trees. The two fillies walked over.
“And she jutht gave me an application and told me to fill it out,” Twist was explaining. “And tho I'm probably going to apply. I mean, it ith my thpecial talent.”
“What's going on?” Scootaloo flopped down on the grass next to the other two.
“I might be able to get a job at Sugarcube Corner!” Twist was beaming. “Ithn't that exthiting?”
They all nodded in agreement. As Twist began to rattle on about the job opportunity, Sweetie Belle chewed her peanut butter sandwich and let her mind drift. The talent show was only two weeks away, and neither Applebloom nor Scootaloo seemed particularly motivated to work on their act. Was this what it felt like when friends drifted apart? She shuddered. No, she and Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were best friends. They wouldn't let that fall away. Certainly not before they got their cutie marks.
Sweetie looked at Twist's flank. Two peppermint sticks in a heart. On the one hand, she was really looking forward to getting her cutie mark, but more and more she felt a nagging feeling holding her back. What if her cutie mark wasn't right? What if her special talent was something she had no interest in? Even if she did get the perfect cutie mark, what would that mean? Cutie marks were a sign of maturity. They were what differentiated a filly from a young mare. Was she really ready to grow up? She sighed. Life was complicated.
She picked up her now empty lunch bag and stood up. “I'm going to head inside,” she responded to the inquisitive looks that Scootaloo and Applebloom gave her. “Get ready for my next class.”
Sweetie Belle slipped through the doors and through the mosh pit that served as a cafeteria. She wandered through the halls, going generally in the direction of her locker but not focusing on where she was going. She turned around a bend when she spotted Grace Note, a senior she had met during the A Capella auditions, putting up a piece of paper on a bulletin board. Grace caught sight of Sweetie and waved her over.
“Here it is,” she said, motioning to the list. “The final cut for A Capella.” She winked at Sweetie Belle. “Have fun at lead Alto.”
She turned, trying to get a good look at her butt in the mirror. The skinny jeans she had on felt good— they made her feel complete, she thought with a wry smile— but she needed to make sure they made her look like she had a mare's hips. After a few more seconds of twisting to look over her shoulder, she decided that they weren't really her style.
Slipping them down— they caught slightly on her thighs— she threw them onto the pile of rejects that was growing on the dressing room chair and turned to the next item— a pencil skirt. She picked it up with her magic and began to wiggle into it.
Snail's thoughts drifted off as she hoisted the skirt over her hips and eyed it in the dressing room mirror. After struggling through elementary school, she had realized things about herself. She found herself growing more and more like the fillies in her class— and growing more and more attracted to the colts. The only classmate she'd ever revealed her struggles to was Dinky Doo, but she'd since transferred to Celestia's Academy for Gifted Unicorns, and so she was again alone with her feelings. At least Dinky had been there to help her get through her initial gender questionings and confusions, she mused. That was something to be thankful for. She slipped back into the dress she'd entered in
Snails levitated the items of clothing and kicked the dressing room door open with her back hoof. She carefully levitated the larger pile onto the reject cart and made her way towards the cash register.
As she moved between the racks, she marveled at how little attention she drew. Passing, that was what the ponies she met online had called it. They all seemed to view it as some sort of holy grail, but it had always come rather naturally for her. She always carried a sort of guilty pleasure at how much better than the other transmares she met online she looked.
She dumped the two items she had picked out onto the counter in front of the cashier. “Will this be it?” he asked her, levitating the items, tag first, towards the scanner.
Snails nodded, scared to open her mouth. That was one thing she'd never been able to rectify. Her voice was still depressingly, terribly male-sounding. Maybe that was one reason why she'd become quieter and quieter as the years went on, going from a social and outgoing colt to a quiet and unnoticeable colt in the background. At least, that was how the others at the middle school saw her. She'd become withdrawn and not nearly as social with some of her closest friends from elementary school; Snips became just an acquaintance rather than her best friend. She pushed open the door and stepped out onto the Canterlot street.
Snails never dared go out as Glittershell— that was what she called herself— in Ponyville. Anypony who knew her would recognize her immediately, and she wasn't ready to deal with that just yet. Canterlot, on the other hand, provided a world of anonymous ponies only a short train ride away. She'd quickly discovered the public bathroom in the Canterlot Public Library, which had two single occupancy restrooms that were gender neutral; she could slip in, put on her clothes, do her mane and makeup, and slip out without arousing any suspicion. She'd also become quite acquainted with several thrift stores in the area; while she'd initially gone to the big name stores, she'd soon realized that on her budget, it was much more effective to shop for clothes used.
She sighed. It had been a whole lot easier when Dinky had been back in Ponyville. She and Dinky could go into stores in Ponyville together, and she could pretend to be dragged along and disinterested. When something caught her eye, she would point it out to Dinky to purchase, and pay her back after they got out of the store. Dinky had helped her with makeup and styling her mane, and had really become her best friend.
Then, about a year and a half ago, things had started to change. After Dinky started dating Pipsqueak, she had less time to spend with Glittershell. They would still get together, just less frequently. Snails had made sure to convince Dinky not to tell Pip— she hadn't wanted to come out to anypony else in school— even though Dinky was sure that he would understand. Then, when Dinky had transferred to Celestia's Academy for Gifted Unicorns and started living in the dorms there, Glittershell was only afforded the occasional letter from her friend, and hardly ever had the chance to surface outside of when she would try on clothing after her parents had gone to bed. She stayed up later at night futzing with her mane and caught up on her rest during the school day. Her grades slumped, but her parents mostly ignored it. Most of the time, they just ignored her; it was nothing new.
Now that she was going to the middle school, she had been able to convince her parents that she was taking up an extracurricular activity— playing hoofball. She rolled her eyes at the thought. Still, the excuse was a valid one, since she knew her parents would never have the time to show up for a game. So after school, she would either slip over to Carousel Boutique, where she had taken a part time job helping Rarity as a salespony and rack-stocker, or, as she had today, board the train and take the twenty-five minute ride over to Canterlot.
She slipped through the doors of the Canterlot Library and down the stairs, towards the restrooms. She suspected Rarity knew some of what was going on with her, but not all of it. After all, she remembered as she messed her mane up, Rarity had caught her on that ill-fated day when she'd skipped class to try going to the spa. She shuddered at the thought. It hadn't been that bad all in all, but it had been extremely nerve wracking. Needless to say, she had never played hookey again.
Snails quickly loaded the clothes back into her saddlebags, shoving aside her schoolbooks to make room. She quickly folded up her makeup kit and flipped open her cell phone; glancing at it, she grimaced. She didn't want to be late for the train again.
Hustling out of the library, she crossed the street and slipped into the train station, pulling her ticket out of her saddlebags as she went. The train was already in the station, and she hustled onto it. She located an empty row and sat down, placing her saddlebags on the seat next to her. The train began to move, and Canterlot Station began to recede out the window.
Snails sat back in her seat, the train rocking underneath her gently. More than ever she wished Dinky was still living in Ponyville; she knew that Dinky would have been there supporting her, and while most of her questioning was over— she fully identified as a transmare now— Dinky would have been able to help her sort through some of her newer questions and strange feelings. Like the ones she'd been having whenever Rumble made eye contact or brushed up against her in the hall.
She sighed. Did she like him? It was hard to tell. She'd been so focused on figuring out her gender confusion during puberty that she hadn't spared much of a thought to her sexuality. Did she even like colts? Or both colts and fillies? She definitely felt... something around Rumble, but she couldn't really be sure what.
Scenery flashed past the window, and she occupied herself for a few minutes with the flashing colors outside the train before it plunged into one of the tunnels that connected Canterlot and Ponyville. She turned away and pulled her old mp3 player out of her saddlebags, plugging in a pair of headphones and letting the music wash over her.
If she was really honest with herself, she was tired. Tired of all the deception that she had to go through to just... well, be herself. It wasn't fair. She had to sneak past her parents, dodging their questions, hoping they would never go to a hoofball game to watch her play, and watching every word she spoke just to avoid them cottoning on. She knew what could happen; she'd heard the stories, and she knew that her parents weren't the most liberal ponies in Ponyville. She wouldn't be surprised if they kicked out their own daughter, just to keep up their image of a perfect family.
It was the whole image of perfection that they struggled to achieve that baffled her the most. She already knew it wasn't true, even without her coming out to her parents. Her parents, both of them, spent so much time working that they hardly ever saw each other. Even when the entire family was together, their interactions were cold and emotionless. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion.
They were both depressed. She got that. She was watching them, neither content, as they searched for ways to escape. They threw their time into working. They immersed themselves in fantasy worlds of books and movies and television to escape their own lives. It was sickening to even be around.
Worse, she knew she was depressed too. She mostly blamed it on her parents, but she couldn't avoid some facts. She hadn't seen any of her classmates outside of school in several months, and even in school they were becoming a separate unit. She was hanging out with her friends not because she really wanted to spend time with them, but because she didn't want to look like a loner. She buried her head in her hooves.
With a squeal of the breaks and a shudder that rocked the car, the train pulled into Friendship Station. Snails stood up, edging her way into the crush of jostling ponies trying to reach the exit at the end of the car. She hugged her saddlebags closer and tried to take up as little space as possible as she shuffled slowly closer to the exit.
The cool air washed over her as she stepped off the train car and onto the station platform. It was early evening, and September was rapidly drawing to a close. She felt a little glimmer of hope grow inside her, fretted with fear and worry. She'd made herself a deal, and the date by which she had to be ready was rapidly approaching. She had less than a month and a half before Halloween to steel her resolve. She pushed the thought from her mind.
Yeah, procrastinating. That was something she was good at.
The streets were fairly empty as she slipped through them. The sun was just beginning to slink down below some of the taller thatch rooftops around her; she hurried her pace. Soon she found herself coming up the stairs and heaving open the large door, which she threw open as quickly as she could to avoid it squeaking. She wasn't in a mood to talk to her parents.
She was inside and halfway up the stairs when she stepped on the loose board; she winced at the groaning sound it made. Snails paused, listening for a sound which would tell her whether or not her parents had heard her arrive home. Inevitably, it came.
“Snails? Is that you?” It was her mother's voice, calling out of her office. “Can you come in here and talk to me for a second?”
Snails slumped against the wall of the stairs, a hoof over her head, breathing in and out slowly. She sighed, the sound catching deep in her throat.
“Snails?” her mother called up again.
“Yeah Mom,” she called down in her abhorrently deep, gravelly voice. “I'll be right down. Just give me a second.”
