Misanthropic human Pinkamena, meet Pony Pinkie Pie, or is it justin her head. High School will never be the same.
Pinkamena Diane Pie is far from what you would call an average high school student, yet you would be hard pressed to call her extraordinary either, she's just there.
Bitter snarky, misanthropic, and avoided by the student body, she's a loner and that's the way she likes it. She lives her life in a routine, minute by minute, and she would be quite satisfied not talking for more than five minutes to anyone beyond her sister for the rest of school, if not the rest of her life.
This all changed when a Pink Pony Proclaiming to be called Pinkie Pie appeared on the end of her bed, determined "help her find her Rainboom".
Pinkamena just thinks she's lost it, could she be right? Either way, her routine is about to get shaken up by several increments, can she make friends,or will Pinkamena be victorious.
No tags are finalised at this point...
Inspired by the CoverArt, drawn by Pandan009, a wizz with coloured pencils
I haven't looked, but the time is 4:57, soon it will be time to get up.
…
I'm already awake, no point in lying around.
…
And yet here I sit, waiting as the last few minutes tick by.
…
It should have gone off by now, it's 5:00 already.
…Beep-Be-
My arm shot out like a snake, silencing the alarm on the second beep, only then did I open my eyes.
Sitting up, I bring the alarm to my face, it is a minute late. I make the necessary adjustments before placing it back on my bedside.
Slinking out of bed, I stretch my arms over my head, giving a grunt at my muscles loosening after a night of stillness, before I pad off to the bathroom.
Starting the shower, I lift my loose fitting pink shirt over my head, the only thing I had bothered wearing before bed. Throwing it into the laundry basket, I find myself looking in the mirror. Staring back at me is a nondescript girl with dull blue eyes and dark pink hair, hair so straight you could rule lines with it, her face locked in a dispassionate deadpan.
Turning away from my reflection, I sigh deeply before stepping into the shower.
“Another morning, another day,” I think, repressing a shiver at the cold water. “Let's get this over with.”
“Good morning, Pinkamena.”
My sister's monotone stirs me out of my thoughts. She leans over me, her face blocking my view of the ceiling.
Leaning back on my chair with my sister's head directly above me, I give a noncommittal grunt. I might have said more, but I have a slice of buttered toast sitting limply between my teeth, so I am unable to return the greeting.
Maud's expression doesn't change, instead she leans forward, biting into the toast in my mouth and spiriting it away before I can react.
Munching on my toast, she walks toward the fridge.
“Hey…” I say, turning in my seat at my sisters retreating back.
“You weren't eating it, so I helped myself,” says Maud, her tone not changing. “You've still got another one.”
I sigh, before reaching out and grabbing my second piece of toast, placing it in my mouth in a similar manner as the first. I put my hands behind my head and continue to stare at the ceiling.
Maud grabs a carton of milk, tipping it back and downing half the carton. Wiping her lip, she says tonelessly "You do know the point of toast is to eat it while its still warm?"
I started munching slowly, the slice disappearing into my mouth.
Maud gives a sigh before getting some cereal out of the pantry and pouring herself a bowl.
"What's got you so chipper this morning?" I say, after swallowing the last of my slice.
"A new shipment is arriving today, I'm really excited to see what I'm getting," she says, her face a total deadpan.
"Neat" I say, still staring at the roof.
Maud gives me a concerned* look. "What time did you go to bed last night?" she asks.
"Twelve" I say.
"Five hours is not a healthy amount of sleep," says Maud.
I watch a spider cross my field of vision. "It's never done me any harm," I say.
"Sometimes I wonder..." says Maud.
I give a sidelong glance. "I'm fine, Maud," I say flatly, "I can take care of myself."
"I never said you couldn't," she says giving me a sad* glance, "but that doesn't stop me from worrying."
I return to staring at the ceiling. the room descending into a companionable silence.
A few minutes pass.
"Quarter past seven," I say, without looking at the clock. "I should get going."
"Al-right, see you after school," says Maud.
I grab my lunch off the counter and my backpack from my room, but just as I go to leave Maud says, "And please, try not to cause any trouble, you know I'm the one who has to hear about it."
"I'll try, no promises," I say over my shoulder.
"Have fun," she says.
'Yeah, right,' I think, trudging down the stairs.
"Miss Pie!"
I take my gaze away from the window and it up to meet the disapproving glare of my Psychology teacher.
"Yes, is there a problem Miss?" I ask half-heartedly.
"Don't use that condescending tone with me!" she snaps.
"This is my normal tone of voice, would you rather I not speak at all?" I snark.
"And none of that lip!" she reprimands.
I sigh. "What do you want Miss?"
Her glare sharpens. "What I want is for you to pay attention in class and stop drifting off into Wonderland whenever the mood strikes you!" she says.
Some students start snickering, before being silenced by the teachers glare.
"Who's to say I wasn't listening?" I say, raising my eyebrows. I wasn't, but she doesn't need to know that.
The teacher sneers. "If you were listening, then perhaps you could explain to the class the devices used to study the brain during sleep?" she says, causing the class to snigger again.
"The devices used to study brain activity during sleep are the electroencephalograph, the electromyograph and the electro-oculargraph" I say calmly, causing her sneer to wane. "The electroencephalograph measures brainwave activities of the subject through electrodes placed on the scalp, and has allowed psychologists to identify the four different stages of sleep, the electromyograph records electrical activity in the muscles, indicating muscle movement and tension, the electro-eculargraph..."
"Yes, yes, very good," says the teacher, annoyed. "But you're ahead, we have yet to cover the four stages of sleep."
It's my turn to sneer. "Then I apologise," I say. "I shall return to wonderland until the rest of you have caught up."
The class sniggers again, although this time not at me.
The teacher's retort is cut off by the bell.
"Class dismissed," she says, as everyone packs up their things and files out the door. "And I shall see you during the lunch period Miss Pie"
'Not If I see you first,' I think.
"Leaving already, are we?"
Closing my locker door reveals the smug grin of Catherine Wheel, followed by her crony, Violet. I resist the temptation to slam the locker door in her face.
I internally scowl. While not the worst bullies in the school, they make up for it by being persistent and stupid, with absolutely no pattern recognition what-so-ever, an annoying combination.
"What do you want, cath?" I say flatly, hoping that for once in her bimbo life she would get the hint.
No such luck.
"Oh, I was just wondering why you going home so early?" she says, in what she must think is an innocent tone.
"It's three thirty, is there a reason I should stay?" I say, rolling my eyes. It doesn't take a fool to see where this is going.
"Well most people would be at club activities right now, and hanging around with their friends- Oh wait, you don't have any do you?" she says, giggling, obviously thinking she's being clever. "How does it feel, knowing that nobody likes you?"
My eyes roll yet again. "Better than being liked too much, if you ask me," I say, brushing past them.
Cathy looks confused. "What?"
"From what I hear, you've pretty much been 'liked' by half the guys at school, sometimes up the butt," I say, facing them with a smug grin.
"Where did you hear that!?" Cathy shouts, her face red with anger.
I turn my back to them. "Maybe you should ask Violet," I say, walking away.
Cathy rounds on her friend. "And what does she mean by that!"
I leave the two idiots bickering and exit the school building from the back way and cut along the edge of the soccer field, as it is a quicker way to get home than out the front gate. The school team is in the middle of practice, and I cast a glance in their direction before continuing on my way.
I hear a shout and the ball lands in front of me, missing me by a meter.
"Hey Pinks, pass us the ball!" says the girl known as Rainbow Dash.
I ignore her and continue on my way.
"Hey didn't you hear me? I said pass the ball!" she shouts.
I continue ignoring her, walking past the ball as if it wasn't there.
"Pass the ball, asshole! What are you deaf?" says one of Rainbow's teammates, a guy who's name is Jack Hammer.
I promptly turn around pick up the ball, tucking it under my arm, and continue walking as if nothing had happened.
I faintly hear Rainbow saying, "Nice going Jack," before Jack calls out.
"Hey!"
I hear quick footsteps, as Jack runs to catch up with me while shouting, "Give us back the ball you stupid bitch!"
Without turning around, I casually throw the ball into the air before performing a spinning kick, smacking the ball as hard as I can, sending it cannoning into Jacks face, which knocks him off his feet with a resounding "OOF!"
I continue walking as the rest of the team run up to their prone member, and I faintly hear Rainbow say, "Seriously Jack, what did you expect?"
'When will they ever learn,' I think, 'to just leave me alone...'
The shop bells jingle above me as I step into the store. Greeting me as always is an array of precious and semi-precious stones in display cases along the walls and aisles. Maud looks up from the counter.
"Hello Pinkamena, welcome home."
"Hey sis, how was your shipment, anything exciting?" I ask, walking through the shop to the stairs.
"Some interesting specimens, I'll show you when I close up shop," she says, "How was your day?"
I sigh. "Oh you know, same as always..." I say, trudging up the stairs.
Having finished the final paragraph on my English essay, I lean back on my chair, wondering what to do next. All my assignments are finished. I could study, but I am already ahead, and I've never seen the point of revision.
The time is 10:30, way earlier than when I usually go to bed, but lacking anything else to do I decide to indulge my sister and get a full night's sleep.
I get up and walk past my bed and the weird horse thing sitting on it, and head to the bathroom, discarding my pants and shirt into the laundry basket as I go.
After a few minutes of dental hygiene, I walk back into my room. I then pull undone the bow that holds my chest binding, letting it fall to the floor at my feet before kicking it into a corner.
Deciding that I can't be arsed putting a top on, I decide to go as is, naked apart from a pair of women's briefs.
Walking up to my bed I nod my head to the small pink horse sitting in the middle. "Hey, budge over."
The cutely deformed pony complies, hopping to the end of the bed.
Lifting the covers, I gently insinuated myself under them before pulling them up to my neck and closing my eyes...
…And immediately opening them again as I sit bolt upright.
On the end of the bed, its massive blue eyes level with my own, a strange chibi-like horse thing sits, wearing a big friendly grin.
"Hi, my name's Pinkie Pie," it says, "and I'm gonna be your new friend!"
Next I pinch myself, only to be rewarded with pain, this is no dream.
The horse cocks its head. "Are you alright?" it says. "You're acting a little strange."
Gingerly I outstretch my hand, and poke it on the nose.
"Boop!" it says cheerily. "Your turn!", It hops forward, landing on my midsection, pushing me down onto the pillow. "Boop!" it says again, touching my nose with its weird hoof thing.
"Wha..." is the only thing I can manage to say, before a knock at the door.
"Pinkamena, I can't find my hairbrush, mind if I borrow yours?" says Maud, walking in.
All I can do is nod mutely, my eyes darting between my sister and the pony thing sitting on my stomach.
"Thanks," she says, walking to my dresser. As she passes my bed she stops and looks at me, concern* evident on her face. "Are you alright, sister? You look a little pale."
Once more all I can do is nod.
I watch as she extends her hand, my eyes widening as it passes through the pony's head as if it wasn't there. She rests her palm on my forehead.
"You're feeling kind of cold," says Maud. "Let me get a thermometer."
I watch her walk out of the room. 'Her hand went right through it, what the hell's going on?' I think.
Suddenly I felt an uncomfortable feeling on my... chest. I look down to see it rubbing it's cheek on my exposed breasts.
"Wow these are soft," it says. "Like warm pillows,"
Severely regretting my decision to not wear a top, I push it off of me, once again sitting up, and try to give it my best death glare, however one factor made that rather difficult, 'Why did it have to be so fuzzy?'
"D-don't you dare," I say, trying to keep my voice clear and my face level.
It looks surprised for a minute, before giving a sly look. "You're ticklish, aren't you?" it says.
"No, of course not!" I say, regaining control of my face, though I subconsciously cover my breasts with my arm.
"Well... let's just see about THAT!" it exclaims, pouncing on my chest, knocking me prone and dislodging my arm. It then proceeds to blow a raspberry in a rather personal place.
"St-stop i-Ah-it" I cry, before my biting my lip, my shoulders shaking in repressed and unwanted giggles.
It lifts its head. "Not until I hear you laugh," it sings gleefully, before burying its snout yet again where it doesn't belong.
Mustering what little strength I have left, I grab it by the scruff of its neck, hoist it off of me, shoot out of bed and run to the door, before hurling it open and throwing the horse-thing out.
"Oof!" it exclaims, falling face first on the carpet. It picks itself up and faces me.
I stand there breathing heavily. "No" I say, before slamming the door.
After leaning on the door for a minute to regain my balance and steady my breath, I eventually stalk back to my bed and flop prone on the mattress, arms landing limply by my side.
'What the shit is happening, did I really just get freaking motorboated by a tiny horse?'
The door opens and Maud walks in with a first aid kit under her arms, she stops when she sees me lying like this. "Did you get out of bed?" she asks.
"No, just got hot under the covers is all," I lie, "You didn't see anything out in the corridor, did you?"
"No, why do you ask?" she says, placing the kit on my bedside, while reaching a hand out to feel my temperature.
"I just thought I heard something," I lie again. "Must have just been my imagination."
"Huh, no wonder you were getting stuffy, you're burning up," she says, the palm of her hand on my forehead.
'Gee I wonder why' I think, recalling the little incident.
"You're sweating too," she observes, "looks like a thermometer won't be needed."
"Why not?" I ask, confused.
"Because you are clearly running a fever," she states, redoing the clasps on the first-aid kit, "and that means bed-rest."
I start to protest, but Maud cuts me off. "No buts, you have a major temperature, I'll call the school in the morning, tomorrow you're having a lie in, now sleep," she says in her commanding tone*, as she pulls my covers up to my neck.
The more I think about it, the more Maud's words make sense. "You know, I think you're right," I say, suddenly very sleepy "I think I've been seeing things."
She cocks her head. "Oh, anything interesting?" she asks.
My eyes start to droop. "Just a tiny pink horse..." I say, sleepily.
"Goodnight Pinkamena," says Maud, before sleep claims me.
…
Beep-click
'Alarm's late again' I think.
My attempt to get up is immediately thwarted by a hand on my stomach.
"You're not going anywhere," Maud says flatly.
"You're up early," I state, matter-of-factly.
"Yes, but don't you think you are," she says.
"I feel fine Maud, my fever must have passed," I say, trying to sit up, but Maud's hand is still in place.
"You're not well until I say so," she says. "You're still running a slight temperature, and you were mumbling in your sleep."
I raise my eyebrow. "Have you been sitting there all night?" I ask.
"So, in short, you aren't going anywhere," she says, ignoring my question. "Now sit back and relax," she continues, once more using her commanding tone.*
Suddenly I fell limp to my bed, my strength to resist suddenly leaving me.
"How do you do that?" I say, annoyed by her uncanny ability to subdue me.
"Big sister secrets," she says playfully*.
"I've never heard of anyone else being able to paralyse their little sisters before, how come I can't do it to Marble or Limestone?" I ask.
"I'm still the eldest, so it doesn't count," she says, getting up. "You stay there and get some rest, I'll be back later with some breakfast."
She stops in the doorframe. "I wouldn't be so down on this, just consider it a day off with a legitimate excuse."
"Won't stop me from being bored out of my skull," I state grumpily.
Maud thinks for a moment, before saying, "How about this, I'll close the shop for the day and keep you company?"
"You can do that?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
She shrugs. "It's my shop, I don't see why not, family comes before business," she says.
"What would we even do?" I ask her.
"Oh, you know," she says, "Just relax and mess around for a bit, just like we used to."
With that she leaves me with my thoughts.
'So I guess it was just a fever then,' I think. 'I just imagined being indecently assaulted by a horse... I'm not sure if I should be happy about that or not.'
Regardless, I'm not keen on spending the rest of my day topless, so I hop out of bed and pad over to the wardrobe.
I haven't bound my chest today, nor can I really be bothered to, so I pick a particularly baggy shirt that is a few sizes too big for me. It was still a little snug around the chest, but it would have to do.
I take a moment to glance out the window into the early morning light. My mind drifts back to something Maud had said earlier.
'Just like we used to huh...'
"MOUSETRAP!" I shouted gleefully, as the colourful contraption finished its deployment, the cage falling on Maud's mouse. I then started skipping around the game board singing, "I win, I win!"
"Good job Pinkie, you got me good," said Maud, sitting opposite to me on the carpet.
"And to the victor goes the spoils!" I said, eyeing the little bits of cheese on Maud's side of the board. The game came with little cardboard bits of cheese, but we used real ones, it was more fun that way.
Maud passed her plate to me, and I started nibbling the little thin squares with gusto.
"Be careful, If you keep eating like that, you might turn into a mouse," said Maud.
"Squeak!" I said happily, before finishing the rest of the cheese. I then ran around the board and put both hands on Maud's shoulders "Can we play again, please can we, can we, Huh-huh-huh?!" I said while bouncing on the spot.
At this point Mommy walked in. "Sorry girls, it's time to go to bed."
"Oh come on Mommy, just a few more games!" I said running up to her and giving her my best watery eyes. "Please! Please!Please!Please!plea-" But my begging was cut short by Maud picking me up from behind and turning me to face her.
"Sorry Pinkie, You heard mom, It's time for sleep," she said.
I pouted. "But I'm not tired..." I said, moaning.
"Yes you are, Pinkie," said Maud in her commanding tone*.
I suddenly yawned and fell limp in her hands, and she rested my on her shoulder.
"Big sister powers, no faaaiir," I said sluggishly, my curly bangs drooping down over my equally droopy eyes.
"Thank you Maud, do you mind taking Pinkie up to bed while I clean up this mess?" said Mommy.
"Nuuuuuuuuu!" I said, my arms flailing weakly over Maud's shoulder.
"I'd be happy to, Mom," said Maud.
"Now there's my grown up little girl," said Mommy, bending over and giving Maud a kiss on the cheek. She turned to me, "Now you stay right in bed like a good girl and I'll be up in a minute to tuck you in and read you a story."
"Ok Mommy, love you," I said as she gave me a kiss on the forehead.
"Aawww! You were so adorable as a foal!" says the pink horse thing on the couch.
Wait, wha-
I spin on the spot.
The horse thing is back, sitting on the end of my bed, grinning. "Hiya! how was your night?"
As a response, I open the window, march up to the bed, pick up the horse thing under its forehooves, march back, and toss it out bodily. I then slam the window, stalk back to bed, and throw myself under the covers.
I wait for a minute.
"Well that was easy..." I say.
"But it wasn't very nice," says the horse thing.
I lift my head to see the horse thing sitting at the end of my bed again, only this time pouting up a storm.
"What did you do that for?" she says.
"My peace of mind," I say. "My fever is worse than I thought, I'm hallucinating in case you haven't noticed."
"That’s still no reason to throw me out the window," she says, giving me watery eyes.
"Maybe not, but indecent assault is a damn good one," I say angrily.
"Is that some sort of condiment?" she asks, confused.
"What the hell are you anyway? You're rather talkative for a fever dream," I say.
It giggles. "I'm Pinkie Pie silly, I told you last night, and I'm a 'she' not an it."
I frown. "I never called you an it."
"But you thought it," it chides.
"Al-right, listen here you horse thing..." I begin.
"I'm a pony," she interjected.
"Horse, pony, fever induced hallucination, whatever!" I exclaim, causing her to frown slightly. "What exactly do you want from me, or are you just something my mind conjured up to annoy me?"
She drew herself up, beaming with pride. "Like I said, I'm Pinkie Pie, another you from another place, and I'm here to help you rediscover your rainboom!"
"...What," I say, wearing a complete deadpan.
She looks off put for a moment, but then bounces back. "Well you see..." She takes a deep breath. "I'm like a different version of you from a different world full of ponies and dragons and griffons and cake and parties and over there I'm really happy with lots of friends but the me in this world which is you is really unhappy with no friends and that really made me sad so I said to myself Pinkie there is another you out there who needs your help and what kind of element of laughter would I be if I can't help myself so here I am and I'm gonna help you smile again and discover the magic of friendship!" It came out in a torrent.
Strangely enough I managed to follow all that.
"Soo, you're me?" I say.
"Eeyup!" she chirps.
"From another world?"
"Yeppers!"
"And you're here to help me make friends?" My eyebrow raises so high I'm afraid it might fly off my face.
"Isn't it great?" she says.
"And you got there how?" I ask, crossing my arms.
"On my hooves, silly," she says.
"And only I can see and touch you because...?" I ask.
"Wibbly wobbly," she says dismissively, waving a hoof.
"That’s a Doctor Who reference," I state, not impressed.
"Still true," she says.
I rest my forehead in the palm of my hand. "Or maybe," I say slowly, "You are not from a different world, you are just the bizarre product of my warped, fever ridden, and twisted imagination, in some strange attempt by my subconscious to emulate Charles Dickens' Christmas Carol with a pink pony."
"Maybe," she concedes, "whatever makes you comfortable, I'm not arguing." She shrugs, before frowning. "Who's Charles Dickens?"
"So exactly how do you plan to 'show me the magic of friendship'?" I air quote. "What visions of wonder and whimsy do you intend to show me, or should I just be violently sick and save you the trouble." I make no attempt to hide my sarcasm.
If she notices my tone, she doesn't comment, instead she says, "I don't need to do anything like that silly!"
"So what are you going to do then?" I ask, getting fed up with this.
"I'm not going to show, you friendship, I'm gonna be your friend! That way you can learn for yourself!" she gleefully exclaims.
It might be the fever, or the sheer strangeness of the situation, but for the first time in years, I find myself at a complete loss for words.
"And wha... And what if I don't want to be your friend?" I finally say.
She just grins even harder. "Well too bad! Because I'm gonna be your friend anyway, so you better get used to it!"
I open my mouth to retort, but then there is a knock on the door.
"Oh that must be your breakfast, I'll leave you to it, seeya tomorrow!" and with that, she jumps off and slips under the bed.
I quickly peer under, though I see nothing but a few boxes. Sighing, I get out of bed and go to open the door.
Maud was standing there with a tray held on both hands, it had a small pot and two empty mugs on it.
"Sorry, I couldn't open the door," she says. "I brought soup."
"I can see that," I say, before letting her in.
She sets down the tray on the floor next to my bed, before sitting down and indicating that I sit opposite. Wrapping my doona around me, I do so. She then starts ladling the soup into the two mugs.
"I've left a sign on the door, I won't be opening up the shop today," she states.
"You don't have to, you know," I say, "You don't need to look after me like this."
"I don't, but I want to," she says, looking me square in the eyes. "I can run my business any day of the week, but I don’t get to spend as much time with my little sister as I would like, so that’s what I'm doing now. That is, if you'll let me," she adds as an afterthought.
"Sure I guess, I've had quite enough of my own company this morning, but what will we even do?" I say, slightly taken aback.
She thinks for a minute, before reaching under the bed and pulling out a box.
Hidden author's note: if you can read this, this chapter holds invisible white text, for better immersion, please reset your page format to default. The morning after, Maud decides that my temperature had gone, and I am well enough to go to school again.
I want a second opinion.
It's not that I feel unwell, I feel fine, as well as I usually do anyway. In fact I could go as far to say that I am perfectly healthy for a girl of my age, if it wasn't for the fact...
"Hellooo? Is anybody home?"
The blasted horse is still here.
The atmosphere of an autumn morning is something that I usually enjoy, the calm tranquillity before the rest of the town is up and about, with nothing but the chilly air and the yellowing leaves for company as I make my way to school. It's one of the perks of being an early riser, you get the street to yourself.
Usually, anyway.
"Pinkie to grump, Pinkie to grump, can you read me, over," says the annoyance, making static noises.
'Just keep walking, if I ignore it, it might just disappear,' I think.
I lurch forward slightly as something jumps onto the back of my head. "Come-onnn, stop ignoring me!" it whines, hugging my forehead.
After the brief stumble, I keep walking as if nothing happened.
"You can't ignore me forever you know," it says after a long pause.
"Just watch me," I say flatly.
My vision is suddenly eclipsed by the pony's head, upside-down and wearing a semi-smug grin.
"...Dammit," I concede.
After a long pause I say, "Do you mind getting out of my face now?"
"You forgot the magic word," the pony says, cheekily.
In response I calmly pick her up and throw her over a nearby hedge. "Weeeeeeeee!" she shouts as she flies through the air.
"Would it kill you to be nice once in awhile?" says the pony, walking up beside me.
"Don't know, I haven't tried yet," I snark.
The pony looked blank for a moment, before giving a snort. "Hehe, good one."
'Or better yet, just get to school. Hopefully I can drown it under the general stupidity of the student body, and it will fade into my subconscious where it belongs,' I think.
"Are you all right, Pinkamena?" says a masculine voice in front of me.
Looking ahead I see the speaker. "Good morning Officer Shining, Why do you ask?"
The neighbourhood police captain raises his eyebrow. "You didn't notice when I waved a minute ago, and you were talking to yourself, is there a problem?"
I swear internally.
"Language!" says Pinkie chidingly.
Shooting her a little glare, I try and think of a reasonable response. I decide on a semi-truth. "I had a fever yesterday, I haven't entirely recovered." No need to tell him about my little pink delusion, Shining thinks I'm weird enough as it is.
"And Maud let you go anyway?"
I shrug. "I'm not that bad, besides, I have an attendance record to keep up."
Shining shakes his head. "Well I won't be the man to stand between a girl and her grades, just go easy, you know your sister worries about you enough as it is."
I roll my eyes. "I also know that she knows I can look after myself."
"And that's why she worries," says Pinkie, nodding sagely.
I turn my head to deliver a sharp retort, but then I remember that Shining is still here, and is looking slightly worried.
"Are you sure you're OK?" he says.
"Yeah, just thought I heard something is all."
Shining still doesn't look convinced, and looks like he is about to press the issue.
"Look, I've got to go, I get up this early for a reason you know," I say, cutting him off.
He sighs. "All right, I'll get out of your hair, just take it easy and try to stay out of trouble." Thinking for a moment, he adds, "And while I remember, is Maud still up for bowling tomorrow?"
"Don't know, you'll have to ask her," I say, sidestepping him and walking on. "See you 'round, Armour."
"You too, have a good day Pinkamena," he says.
"Don't make me laugh," I say over my shoulder.
"So, why do you go this early?" asks Pinkie.
"Avoiding people," I say. "This way I arrive before anyone else, and therefore can get my stuff out of my locker to the classroom and find somewhere quiet to wait for class, cutting out a whole morning of unnecessary social interaction and idiot exposure."
Looking down to the mother of all disappointed frowns, I say "I'm not looking for your approval."
The look intensified.
"If you don't like it, feel free to leave," I say, hoping it will get the hint.
"You're gonna need a lot of work," she said, her frown shifting into a grin. "Challenge accepted!"
I contemplate depositing the small pink menace in the nearby bin, however my thoughts are derailed by a door opening and shutting, and a figure running out onto the footpath. She is wearing a green jacket, a small sports bag slung over her shoulder, and slightly messy long hair which I would describe as a light cyan, streaked on one side a white highlight. she takes one look at me, her eyes going wide, before bolting away at high speeds toward the school.
"Wow, I'm really that intimidating," I say, raising my eyebrow, I'm doing a better job than I thought.
"It would help if you smiled more," says Pinkie.
"That would be counter productive," I say, "people might get the idea that I'm actually approachable."
"Seriously what's your problem?!" says Pinkie, latching onto my face and looking me in the eye. "Are you that determined not to make friends?"
"Would you be surprised if I said yes?" I say, my voice slightly muffled by her fur.
"Come on grumpy, work with me here, I'm trying to help you," says Pinkie, using watery puppy dog eyes.
It was not very effective.
Depositing her in a nearby bin with a sharp "Eep!" I continue on my way.
"Ewww!..." says Pinkie. "...Oh hey a coin!"
"How exactly are you late for class again?" asks Pinkie, trying to keep up with my brisk walk.
"Oh shut up!" I snap down at the small horse, not caring about the looks I was getting.
"I mean we got here so early..." says Pinkie, bounding beside me.
"Say one more word about me being late, and you're going in a bin again," I snarl, still ignoring the stares.
Pinkie immediately zips her lip... literally... with an actual zipper... I'm not going to question it, it's best not to question your delusions, that path madness lay, and I've been having quite enough of that recently. Besides it allowed me to brood in silence.
It's not as if I'm annoyed about being late, I can handle being late, it was English after all, I have an understanding with Ms Liebe. What has me annoyed is the fact that the irritating little horse had disrupted my focus, and nearly made me lose count! I have never lost count before not for all the years I have been counting, and this little irritation had nearly made me lose it. The last stragglers in the corridor turn to look at me. Apparently sensing my boiling temper, they all turn and run to their classes, all except for two.
"Hey there Miss Pink, playing hookie are we?" says Cathy, who is obviously playing hookie herself, followed as usual by Violet.
"Go fellate a cactus Cathy, before I shove one down your throat myself!" I snarl, brushing past them without slowing down.
Cathy and Violet look at each other. "That was unusually abrupt."
"You don't think she's ill, is she?"
Oblivious to this exchange, I continue to stalk down the hallway.
"Thm wznt vrrry nss," says Pinkie, through her mouth zip.
"Remember what I said about bins, Pinkie?" I say without even looking down.
She promptly removes her mouth from her face and stashes it in her mane.
Not bothering to question this, and seeing my classroom up ahead, I step inside.
"I hope you have a good reason for arriving to class late- Oh it's you Pinkamena, sit down, class has started," says Ms. Liebe, her irritation quickly fading.
Ms. Liebe is a tall woman with dark skin and what some might describe as an hourglass figure, she has long, dark cerulean hair that trails down her back. She wears a black cardigan that shows far too much skin and way too much cleavage for a school teacher, a form fitting skirt that matches her hair ending just above the knees, and thin black stockings, as well as a pair of stiletto high heels, which somehow bore a closer resemblance to the knives than the shoes, and a pair of spectacles, which I know are just for show. Standing next to her is a girl, who I remember as the cyan haired girl from before school who, by the blush on her cheeks, is very uncomfortable standing next to the well endowed teacher, considering she was trying to look anywhere else except the tall woman's chest.
Walking past them I make my way to the back of the classroom to my seat in the corner, ignoring the slightly dirty looks from my classmates...
I watch the pink haired girl walk to a desk in the back corner of the classroom, which is a welcome distraction as it meant I don't have to look at Ms. Liebe.
It's not as if I think she is unattractive, quite the opposite in fact, which was kind of the problem. "Why does she have to be so... big," I think, looking down. I have moderate C's and am quite content with that fact, but large breasts are always a thing for me, and Ms. Liebe is at least double D, it's making me rather uncomfortable to say the least, especially at this close proximity.
Once the the pink haired girl sits down, Ms. Liebe says, "As I was saying, we have a new member of our class, Miss Lyra Heartstrings. She is transferring from her original English class and homeroom due to some... issues she had with some of the students, please make her feel welcome, and if I hear of any unpleasantness directed at Miss Strings from anyone in my class or from my homegroup, the consequences will not be pleasant, is that understood?"
There is a general grunt of confirmation from the class, with a few nods here and there, ranging from unenthusiastic to polite, which doesn't get my hopes up too much, but at this point I'll take whatever I can get.
"Good, now please take a seat Miss Strings, and we will start the class."
Nodding to my new teacher, and relieved to be out of her direct vicinity, I walk to the only unoccupied seat in the class, right up the back, between a light-blond girl in a grey shirt and a large pair of glasses and the moody looking pink haired girl who came in late, who is staring disinterestedly out the window.
After I am seated, Ms. Liebe instructs us to take out our books and open to chapter 25. The book is Huckleberry Finn, a book I'm not very fond of, but at least I am familiar with it. As the class went through the contents of the chapter, I notice that the pink haired girl has yet to get her book, in fact, she hasn't stopped looking out the window since class had started. I vaguely recognise her from before school, she was outside my house when I left, I also remember panicking and running away, hope she doesn't hold it against me.
"Um excuse me, miss," I say gently, causing the girl to slowly look at me. I felt like shrinking under the harsh gaze, but I manage to say, "I just thought that um, I'd let you know class has started... we are re-reading chapter 25." I put on an awkward, helpful smile, hoping she doesn't take offence.
"I am well aware of that," she says, her tone neutral, before turning back to the window.
Confused by the complete lack of reaction, I want to say something more, but am stopped by a cheerful voice behind me, "Don't bother, I've never seen her do any work in this class, you're wasting your time."
I turn to the girl on my other side, the blond one with glasses. "Nice of you to try though," she says, "but on that girl? Wasted effort, believe me."
"Why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice down so as not to disturb the class.
"You're new here, aren't you? Who was your previous homeroom teacher?" she asks, cocking her head.
I shift uncomfortably "I've only been here three weeks, my homeroom teacher was Mr. Sombra."
She ahh'd in understanding "That explains it, no students in that group give the orientation talk."
"Orientation talk?" I say.
"Something me and a few other students do for new blood, tell them the ins and outs of the school, what's cool what's not, who to talk to, who to avoid, that kind of stuff," she says.
'Gee, that might have been useful three weeks ago, I might have been able to avoid some pitfalls,' I think sourly. Aloud I say, "What's that got to do with her?"
"Her name's Pinkamena, and when it comes to people to avoid, she's on the top ten," she says.
"W-why, what does she do?" I say, casting a nervous glance at the girl in question, who hasn't moved her gaze from the window.
"For the most part, not much, when she's left alone she mostly sticks to herself," she says, causing me a bit of confusion, but she wasn't finished. "But it's when you intrude in her personal space, now that's when she gets nasty," making me tense again. "What she does varies depending on who you ask, but one thing's for sure, it ain't nice. From what I can gather, it's mostly verbal abuse, she wields her tongue like a dagger and she's not afraid to fight dirty and stick her words where they really hurt. Even most of the school bullies avoid her, the smart ones anyway. And though I've never seen it myself, I've heard she also ain't above physical violence either."
I had starting shaking at one point, truly frightened of the person behind me. The girl doing the explaining notices this, and says reassuringly, "Hey don't worry, like I said, it's only if you bother her, as long as you stay out of her space, she's nuthin' to worry about."
"Aren't you worried she can hear us?" I say, nervously.
The girl gives a little laugh, then says, "That ain't how Pinkamena works, Pinkamena don't care, Pinkamena don't give a shit, you can talk as much shizzle as you like about her, and she'd only care if you said it to her face, and that's only cuz you're standing in front of her, she just doesn't care."
I'm not entirely convinced, but I give an awkward smile "Okay, if you say so..."
"That's the spirit," she says, before extending her hand. "Name's Ditzy by the way, nice to meetcha Miss Lyra."
"You know my name?" I say, worried what she might have heard.
"You were introduced in front of the class, remember?" says Ditzy, raising her eyebrow.
"Oh, right," I say, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment, but taking her outstretched hand.
She giggles. "Hey don't worry about it, I do silly things all the time."
"As much as it pleases me to see you making new friends Miss Heartstrings, I would ask you to pay attention during my class." says Ms. Leibe, appearing in front of us, causing all the students nearby (except Pinkamena) to jump, and Ditzy to fall out of her chair, with a yell of surprise.
"Y-yes miss," I say, embarrassed both by being caught talking in class and having to face my teacher's bosom.
"Very good," she says, turning on her heels and walking back to the front. "Now as I was saying..."
"How the hell does she do that?" mumbles Ditzy as she climbs back onto her seat.
With that, we both get back to work, although I find it hard to concentrate, due to the girl Pinkamena at one point starts whispering to herself.
"So this is what you do all day?" says the pink horse that I can't see or hear and may-or-may-not be in Pinkamena's head.
"Yup..."
"Just sit in the corner, and stare out the window?"
"Pretty much..."
"Not going to follow the lesson or anything, get involved with the class discussion, maybe?"
"Why should I?..."
"Isn't that the point of school, you know, to get educated, meet people, make lasting friendships?"
"For other people maybe..."
"Why are you whispering?"
"What's it matter to you?..."
"... Because you're kinda hard to hear?"
"Because I'm trying not to be overheard..."
"I thought you don't care what other people think?"
"I don't, but it saves me a headache if I don't have to explain why I'm talking to myself..."
"... You know, you are really boring sometimes, I mean Really boring."
Hidden author's note: if you can read this, this chapter holds invisible white text, for better immersion, please reset your page format to default. I sit in my corner, attempting to tune out the pink nuisance next to me as the teacher draws the lesson to a close.
“...And that concludes our reading of Huckleberry Finn,” says Ms Liebe, ignoring the sigh of relief from the less literary students. But as some students start to pack up she says, “Did I say the lesson was over?” causing them to freeze.
“As we have finished reading, I expect a full essay on the journey of Huckleberry Finn, both his physical journey down the river, and his journey as a character, with at least two thousand words, to be handed in a week from today.”
The class around me groans pathetically, especially some of the boys.
“Don’t give me that, Two thousand words is hardly anything, and you have a whole week to complete it, show some maturity,” snapped Ms Leibe.
Clearly unimpressed by the class’s unenthusiasm, she continues, “Or is it just that you need… more incentive?” Her voice, suddenly becoming less harsh, catches the attention of the class, while I roll my eyes.
‘Here we go again,” I think.
Ms Leibe, on the other hand, leans forward on her desk in a far from decent manner, and delicately removes her spectacles, showing off her spectacular green eyes.
With the entire class suddenly hanging on her every word, Ms Leibe says sweetly, “It’s just that your success as students means so much to me, that I’m willing to offer a... special gift to the first one to hand in an essay… provided it's done well, that is.”
I note the little squeak that the new girl made at the prospect of ‘special gift’, and how she was redder than a tomato. ‘Poor schmuck.’ I also see that the girl called Ditzy simply rolls her eyes too, nice to know someone at this school isn’t a complete idiot.
At this moment the bell rings and Ms Leibe straightens up, putting her glasses back on, breaking the spell. “Class dismissed,” she says simply, “except for Ms Pie, I wish to have a word.”
The class files out, leaving me and the teacher. I walk to the front and stand square in front of her, arms crossed.
We stand like this for a good two minutes, just staring at each other.
I eventually speak. “Is there a problem, Miss?”
“I believe you have something to give me,” she calmly retorts.
“What makes you think that?” I say.
“A supposition, care to prove me wrong?” she says.
“What’s going on?” says Pinkie, confused.
“And if I say I don’t have it?” I say, ignoring her.
“Then I will most likely accuse you of lying and ask anyway,” says the teacher, oblivious to the third party.
“Okay seriously, what's happening?” says Pinkie, a little bit freaked out.
“I don’t know, after that stunt you pulled in class, I’m not sure I should…” I say, pretending to think about it.
“But you will anyway because you don’t give a damn about the rest of the school body, right?” she says, smirking.
“WHAT IN EQUESTRIA’S GOING ON!” cried Pinkie desperately.
“True,” I say. Reaching into my bag, I pull out a stack of paper and deposit it on her desk. “This should be roughly two thousand three hundred words.”
“On topic, I trust?” says Ms Leibe, picking it up and flicking through.
“Of course.”
“And quotes and examples to back up your assertions?”
“Do you even need to ask?”
“Very good, I’ll get to grading it later,” she says, placing it back on the desk. “Congratulations, you are the first to hand in your Huckleberry Finn essay.”
“What!?” says Pinkie, jumping onto a stack of papers on the desk, “Bu-but, you just gave out the assignment, how could she have…” She then narrows her eyes at the teacher. “Your helping her cheat or something aren't you, I’m onto you Miss teacher person.”
“Since you are the first to hand in, you get the special gift,” she says, grabbing the piece of paper from the top of the pile, causing Pinkie to slip and topple off the desk. She held it to her face, fluttering her eyelashes. “How would you like it?”
I roll my eyes. “Same way as always, if it's all the same to you.”
She lowered the paper, revealing a smirk. “Your wish.”
She picks of a sticker off the sheet and sticks it on the front of my essay. It is decorated with a black heart with holes in it, and has the words ‘Chryssi approved’ around it.
“That’s a new design, you're getting these custom made now?” I ask.
“I found a website that does it cheap,” she says.
“Chryssi approved?”
“A nickname I had in college, thought it would look cute on a sticker, don’t even think about using it.”
“So I’m still on Chrysalis am I?” I ask.
“Only if you’re feeling formal,” she shrugs, “Chrys will do.”
“With an I or a Y?”
“Hilarious.”
“Really? I thought it was dumb.”
“Good to see your wit has not dried up during your fever.”
“I try.”
“On that subject, I got a call from Shining this morning, apparently you were muttering on your way to school, he asked me to ask about how you’re feeling.”
“Mildly annoyed, as a matter of fact, half the people I actually talk to are suddenly taking an interest in my mental health.”
“Hey, I’m your homegroup teacher, it’s my job to care,” she shrugged, “If you ever need to talk about something with a teacher for whatever bizarre reason, I’m here.”
“I’m expected to receive reasonable advice from the person who bribes students with the prospect of sexual favours?” I say, raising my eyebrow
“Hey, I never promised anything, it’s only their dirty minds that make them think like that.”
“That and you showing off your rack.” I snark.
“Hey if you’ve got it, flaunt it, nice change of subject by the way.”
“Whatever, see you later.” I say, walking out.
“And tell Maud that my date for tomorrow canceled, so I’ll be coming to bowling after all.”
“What am I, a messenger? Tell her yourself!” I call over my shoulder as I leave the room.
As I turn to walk down the hall, I see a very pouty pink pony glaring up at me. I prepare to walk over her, but what says stops me in my tracks.
“I can’t believe you cheated!”
For some reason Pinkie’s comment stung in a way that I’m not used to, so much so that I feel the need to retort.
“Not that I care about your opinion, but I did not!”
“What was that then? You handed in the assignment directly after she issued it!”
“I finished reading the book weeks ago, she gave me the essay topic early when I asked for it!”
“So you get more time than everyone else, that’s cheating!”
There was that sting again. “No, it’s practical, because I can work better on my own! Chrys knows this, which is why she lets me do it!”
“So it’s cheating and favoritism!”
Sting.
“It is not cheating!” I snarl, leaning right into her face, causing her to recoil. “It is facilitating alternative learning styles, are we clear?”
Pinkie nods mutely.
“Good.” I say straightening up.
“...It’s still not fair on the other students.”
“Oh why the hell not?” I say exasperated, “How does this affect their schooling in any way!”
“Because they will never get one of Chrysalis’s cool stickers,” says Pinkie, as if it's the biggest tragedy ever to befall someone's life.
My hand collides with my face.
“What?” she asks innocently.
“It may surprise you to find out that most of the class could care less about Chrys’s special stickers, What they want is to give her the…”
“Now what do we have here?” says an annoyingly familiar voice.
“Oh, what the fuck now!?” I groan, rounding on who I know to be there.
“My, that’s twice you snapped at us, and here you are, talking to yourself in the hallway, with a raised voice no less,” says Cathy.
I take a moment to calm myself before speaking again. “What of it, Cath?” I say, crossing my arms.
“It seems that after all this time of being a creepy loner, little Pinkamena has finally gone off the deep end,” she says, circling like a shark, Violet right behind her as always. “We always thought you would,” she put her hand on her forehead dramatically . “I suppose there's nothing left to do but wheel you off to the loony bin.” She finishes with a laugh.
“Wow, I thought you were just being rude to these girls earlier because you were an antisocial butt, but now I see that it’s because they are bigger butts,” says Pinkie.
“Not in the mood for your shit right now, Pinkie,” I snarl.
“Having trouble with the voices in your head are we?” says Cathy in mock sympathy.
My mind swims, trying to think of a way to make Cathy drop it, to try and divert it back to her, but I can’t think of anything relevant to the situation.
“What? Nothing smart to say? God, you really are losing it,” Cath giggles.
As I feverously wrack my mind, I spot Pinkie sitting, looking worried, off to one side. Inspiration strikes, it is a crazy, dumb idea, but my smart mouth seems to have failed me so it was all I had.
I shrug. “Eh, you got me.”
“I- wait What?” Cath does a double take. “I... I got you?”
I shrug again. “Yup, I’m going insane, I’ve spent all morning talking to a miniature horse version of myself,”
“Err…” says Cath, caught off balance and looking more than a little weirded out.
“Only this me is a hundred times more nasty,”
“More nasty?” says Cathy looking uneasy.
“I am?” asked Pinkie, raising an eyebrow.
“Hush Pinkie, am speaking,” I say, before turning to Cath again. “Oh yes, she’s an outright psycho.”
“Is that a fact?” says Cath, backing away slowly.
“Okay is this due to the tickling incident? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise those chest thingys were so personal.”
I look down to her with a face of mock horror. “Pinkie, where do you get such ideas?”
“What ideas?” says Cath, who has started hugging Violet, who is hugging back.
“She thinks I should take you to the kitchen and make some ‘special cupcakes’ with you.” I say ominously.
“Special cupcakes?” says a befuddled looking Pinkie.
“S-special cupcakes?” says a shivering Cath.
“Don’t worry Cath, I’m not going to do anything like that.” I say sweetly.
“Really?” she says.
“Despite how delicious it might be.”
“Wow, look at them go,” I say, watching them disappear around the corner.
“I don’t get it,” says Pinkie, “How are cupcakes scary?”
“You really don’t want to know,” I say, starting to walk. “Walk with me.”
“Okay,” says Pinkie, confused, but also enthused by the invitation.
“I had my doubts about you Pinkie, but I’m really starting to consider your proposal of friendship,” I say causally.
“Really!? Oh I am so happy to hear-waitaminute-” Her glee turns into suspicion. “You're going to use me as a means of further distancing yourself from the student body, aren't you?”
“Correct.”
“OH, COME ON!”
The rest of the morning breezes past, and I find myself in the cafeteria, enjoying my solitary lunch, as usual with only myself for company. Albeit myself that is slightly more talkative than usual.
“Wow, this is neat! we have a table all to ourselves,” says Pinkie, looking around the large room.
“Yeah, no one sits here anymore,” I say nonchalantly.
“...It’s because of you, isn’t it?” she says flatly.
“Yup.”
“Were gonna have to do something about that,” she says.
“Let's not and say we did.”
“But I’m trying to help you make friends!”
“Good luck.”
Pinkies cut her own reply short as she notices someone approaching. “Shh, someone’s coming.”
“Why, it’s never stopped you before,” I say.
“This could be your chance! Quick, socialise!” she says grinning.
A guy I recognise as Thunderlane approaches my table and gestures to the seat occupied by Pinkie. “Mind if I sit here?”
“Right there? Yes I do as a matter of fact,” I say casually. “Pinkie is sitting there.”
“Pinkie?” he says, confused. “Who's Pinkie?”
“Since you asked, she’s a strange twisted fragment of my tortured imagination, who is currently giving me a very disapproving glare,” I say as nonchalantly as possible.
I could just see the confused sweatdrop dripping down his forehead.
“He glances at the seat, then back to me. “You… you do realise there’s nothing there... right?”
“Of course I know that, but if you sit there then she would be sitting in you, and then she might burst out of your chest and make an alien joke, and it’s very hard to hold a conversation with the voices in my head when my imaginary pink horse is making pop culture references… Wow look at him go,” I say as Thunderlane beats a hasty retreat.
“I am not happy with you right now,” says Pinkie, forehooves crossed.
“Hey, I socialised, didn’t I?”
“I’ve never even watched Alien!”
“He didn’t know that.”
“For all you know, he could have been trying to be friendly.”
“Thunderlane? Unlikely, more likely he just bit off more than he could chew.” I say.
Pinkie tilts her head. “Huh? what do ya mean?”
“Thunderlane considers himself a bit of a ladies man, and is prone to boasting. Obviously one of his friends, probably Soarin, it’s his kind of humour, thought it would be funny to take him down a peg by making a bet to see if he could talk me into a date, knowing full well how I deal with such propositions.” Sure enough I could see Soarin’s smug grin from here as Thunderlane sat back down at their table.
“How do you know all that? I thought you don’t care about other people?” says Pinkie.
“Just because I don’t care doesn’t mean I don’t listen, it’s amazing what people will say when I’m around, because they think I don’t pay attention.”
“That’s… actually kind of cool,” says Pinkie. She looks around the room. “What can you tell me about… her!”
My gaze follows her pointing hoof. “Applejack, country girl, lives outside of town, has two siblings, an older brother, and a younger sister, honest, hardworking, average grades, has a habit of butting into other people's business, very approachable, hates liars and bullies.
“Cool, what about her!”
“Rarity, Socialite, fashion victim, attempts to start trends rather than follow them, clothes designer in spare time, makes all her own clothes, drama queen, mid-to-high grades, has a little sister she complains about a lot, has a lot of friends, usually seen moving in a pack for safety, horrible gossip.”
“Her!”
“Rainbow Dash, sports maniac, soccer star, academic underachiever, low-to-mid grades on anything non sports related, tomboy, spends most of her time with her team, has a lot of weight with the school jock and knucklehead demographic, short tempered, boastful.”
“How about the one next to her?”
“Cloudkicker?”
“No, Fluttershy!”
“Fluttershy, timid, meek, animal lover, soft spoken, dislikes crowds and being the centre of attention, average grades, has very few friends, mainly being Rainbow and Rarity. Is rarely seen not in the company of one or the other, but rarely both, due to this the school bullies mostly leave her alone.”
“Wow, you’re good at this,” says Pinkie.
“Everyone needs a hobby,” I say, shrugging.
Pinkie spots someone, standing in the middle of the room holding a tray and looking around lost. “What about her?”
“The new girl? You were there when she was introduced, you probably know just as much as I do,” I say.
“Come on, she’s been here at least three weeks, there must have been something your information network can dig up.”
I snort. “Other than the fact she is really bad at hiding that she’s into girls?”
Pinkie rolls her eyes. “I mean besides the obvious.”
Suddenly feeling more self conscious for some reason, I search in vain for somewhere to sit.
Not that there isn’t any empty seats, it’s just that no-one wants me sitting at their table. Word had already spread it seems, and my new sorta-friend Ditzy is nowhere to be seen, apparently at some club activity, which left me once more alone for lunch.
I scan around desperately, until I spot a nearly empty table. My heart skips a beat, and I start to make my way over. but stop as soon as I see who is sitting there.
Pinkamena, the girl who should not be disturbed under any circumstances, lest you face her terrible wrath.
But then again, being caught standing in the cafeteria was not, I had learned from experience, ideal.
I decide to risk it. After all, when caught between a rock and a hard place, it’s best to get as close as possible to the hard place in the hope that it somehow shields you from the rock, that makes sense right?
Swallowing my fear, I take a step forward.
“Is it just me or is she coming this way?” says Pinkie.
“After the warning that Ditzy girl gave her? I’d be surprised,” I say.
“Yup, she’s definitely coming over.”
“You have got to be joking, the girl looks as skittish as a squirrel.”
“She’s nearly here, look lively.”
I look over to see the girl named Lyra standing opposite me at the table, with an expression that resembled an incredibly subdued awkward smile.
I look directly into her eyes, while she stares awkwardly back.
This position is held for a good minute, with me simply waiting to see what she is here to do.
She shifts uncomfortably. “Ummm… H-hello.”
“What do you want?” I say sharply, causing her to flinch.
“W-well, um, I, er, you see, couldn’t really find anywhere to sit, so um, could I maybe sit at your table, please?”
I look around. “There seems to be a lot of empty seats on other tables, why here?”
Lyra looks at her feet. “Well, no one else wants me on their table…”
I raise my eyebrow, but it seems no explanation is forthcoming, as Lyra is still examining her own shoes.
“So... can I?” says Lyra, resigned, but hopeful.
“That depends, Miss Heartstrings,” I say, causing Lyra to look up, “and that is if you are willing to share the table with a potentially deluded girl and her imaginary friend.”
“Wha?” says Lyra, befuddlement all over her face.
“Oh come on, Pinkamena!” says Pinkie Grumpily.
“Look…” I try to say, but Pinkie cuts me off.
“No looks! No buts! And definitely no ‘now look here's’! Forget your anti-social meanie-pants stuff for one moment, and see that this is the human equivalent of a kicked puppy! By the looks of her, I’d say she’s been kicked several times already and she does not need another one. So either you let her sit here, or I will never, ever, ever ever-ever-everevereverevereverever…” she pauses to take a deep breath, “...Ever let you hear the end of this.”
I’m not sure how I feel about this outburst. A small part of my mind says I should just send her packing anyway just to spite her, but then I take one long hard look at the girl in question...
She just won’t stop staring at me, her dull blue eyes piercing my mind like a spike of ice. I am starting to get majorly creeped out.
Just as I was considering excusing myself and trying another table again, suddenly, she says, “Fine, just sit down and shut up before I change my mind.”
The words almost didn’t register. “Y-you mean it?”
“I don’t like repeating myself, are you going to sit or what?” says Pinkamena.
Quickly I sit on the nearest seat, setting down the lunch tray. After a few moments Pinkamena seems to lose interest and starts looking off to some far corner of the room, absently taking what looks like some sort of cookie out of her lunch box and idly nibbling it while leaning on her other hand. Not wanting to disturb her further, I quietly start eating my own cafeteria lunch. Not the best food, but not bad as cafeteria lunches go.
"See, was that hard?" says the invisible pink horse that I can’t see or hear.
Pinkamena grunts, why I don’t know, but I’m not going to ask.
As lunch went on, I became aware of a growing hush across the room, the background chatter steadily dying away, I look up to see what’s going on, only to find that almost every eye in the room is pointed in my direction. You could hear a pin drop in the ensuing silence.
Then she walks in.
There is a reason up to this point that I was having trouble in school, that I didn’t have any friends, no-one wanted me to sit with me in lunch, that I transferred out of my homegroup…
Her name is Black Saturday.
I internally groan as the school’s queen bee walks in.
In the land of bitchy teen girls and young adults that is high school, the bitchiest and meanest is always on top, and Black Saturday is no exception. A sociopath even by my standards, cruel and sadistic. Couple that with good looks, and for whatever reason this equals popular girl.
One of her cronies seems to point out my table for some reason, and they start stalking over.
This confuses me, for despite the fact that I think she is a pathetic controlling brat whose daddy obviously didn’t love her enough, I was under the impression that she and I were under an unspoken truce. She knows she can’t hurt me, so she leaves me alone. It’s an arrangement that has worked for quite some time, I get my space, and she can take out as much of her personal insecurities on the student body as she wants. What would make her risk this delicate equilibrium by encroaching on my personal space? Then I remember that my personal space isn’t so personal right now, and that Lyra has adopted a ‘deer in the headlights’ look.
Suddenly Lyra’s behaviour made sense, she was Saturday’s new punching bag.
“Well, hey there Heartstrings, all here by your lonesome?” says Saturday, wearing her predatory grin.
“…”
Her grin turned into a snarl. Quick as a snake, she grabbed Lyra’s head, and turned it to face hers, “I asked you a question, Heartstrings, aren't you going to answer?”
“Yes, Miss Saturday,” says Lyra timidly.
“Good girl. See, was that so hard, you’ll make an obedient freak yet.”
I felt my fist clench involuntarily.
“Because that’s what you are, isn’t it? A freak. What are you?”
“... a freak.” says Lyra softly, the beginning of tears welling up in her eyes.
“Are you crying, oh my god she is crying,” Saturday laughs, “What a pathetic little weirdo.”
I start counting under my breath.
“This is horrible!” says Pinkie, her eyes quivering, “You can’t just sit there, do something!” I sit still as a statue. “Pinkamena?”
“Now come on, I want you to say it with me, pathetic…”
“Pathetic…” croaked Lyra.
Unnoticed by everyone except Pinkie, I start to tremble, my fists clenched so tight, the knuckles have turned white.
“Little…” Saturday continues, oblivious.
“Little…”
“Pinkamena?” asks Pinkie, nervously.
“Weirdo-”
“OH SHUT YOUR FUCKING FACE!”
A new silence reigns, as all eyes were trained on me, as I stood, glowering. Even Lyra froze, tears suspended on her cheeks.
Saturday was clearly not expecting this. “E-excuse me?” she blusters.
“I don’t wanna hear it! In fact, any more of your pathetic self-righteous power play and I might feel the need to beat you to death with your own frozen smug!”
Her shock turned quickly into anger. “Did you call me-”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact I did call you pathetic,” I say, getting up into her face, “because you are, a pathetic little girl who wasn’t loved enough as a child or something, so now you feel the need to try and push everyone else down in order to fool yourself that your life is actually worth something.”
She opens her mouth to retort, I cut her off again.
“And don’t even try to try the verbal fencing with me, because you know that there’s no shit you can throw at me that I won’t throw back harder, so save yourself the embarrassment!”
She stands there bewildered for a moment, before her eyes narrow. “Be careful Pinkamena, I’ve tolerated you until now, but you’re stepping across a dangerous line.”
“Whatever,” I say, picking up my lunchbox and heading for the door, my invisible pink horse falling in behind me.
“Running away, are we?” she calls after me.
“As a matter of fact, I’m going off in search of intelligent company, because there is clearly none to be had here.” I call back. I turn around in the doorway. “Hey Strings, you coming or what?”
Lyra looked confused for a moment, before scrambling out of her seat and after me.
“W-where are we going?” she says as I lead her out the cafeteria.
“Outside, there's a place I go to be alone, if you're still hungry you can have some of my lunch.”
Lyra didn’t respond, she just sat staring at me to stunned for words
“I know you probably don’t care too much about what I think,” says Pinkie, “But right now, I am super proud of you.”
“So this is where you go to be alone?” says Pinkie, confused.
“Yahuh,” I say non-committally.
“But it’s right in the middle of the school grounds!”
The spot in question is a small hill in a prominent spot on the school grounds, with a large tree on the top, which I and my two tagalongs are lying under.
“The hill gives me a good all round view, while the shade of the tree gives me privacy.”
“And I guess no one comes up here?”
“Only if they know what's good for them.”
“Pinkamena!”
“What? I let the kicked puppy tag along, what more do you want from me?”
Pinkie thinks about it. “Well… for a start, stop deliberately distancing yourself from everyone, make friends, stop being a meanypants, smile a lot and don’t refer to Lyra as a kicked puppy, it's not nice.”
“You did.”
“But that was a simile. Besides she can’t hear me.”
“So it’s alright to give people demeaning nicknames when they can’t hear you?”
“That's not what I meant!”
“It’s what you said.”
“No I didn’t!”
While Pinkie pouts up a storm, I notice that the ‘kicked puppy’ is currently giving a look of complete confusion and apprehension, clearly wanting to ask, but afraid to do so.
I save her the effort. “I wasn’t joking earlier about the imaginary friend, although friend might be a bit of a stretch, more of a general irritant that I can’t get rid of.”
“Oh… OK,” says Lyra, still not any less confused, but further dissuaded from asking.
I sigh and open my lunch box, surveying its remaining contents. I pass the box over to Lyra. “Here.”
“Huh?” she exclaims.
“I promised you some food if you were still hungry, I’ve already eaten the sandwiches, but there should be something in here to tide you over for the rest of the day, take your pick.”
“Oh! Um, thank you,” says Lyra, off balance. “Wow, it um, all looks… very sweet,” she finishes lamely.
“Like I said, I had already eaten the sandwiches, got a problem with sweet?”
“Oh no, It’s just... rather unexpected is all,” she says, picking out a large cupcake decorated with icing and sprinkles.
“You mean you expected my tastes to reflect my sour personality?”
“What? No! I mean, well, not in those words exactly,” she says.
“Stop putting words in people's mouths,” whispered Pinkie. “It makes people uncomfortable.”
“That's my intention,” I say.
“What?” says Lyra.
“Wasn’t talking to you, Strings,” I say.
“Oh.”
A small silence follows, but Lyra’s face suggests she has something she wants to ask.
“You have a question, spit it out,” I say. “And for Faust’s sake please stop exclaiming ‘Oh’.”
“What? O- um, I mean, well, that is…”
“Jeez, just take a breath,” I say.
She stops her babbling, and takes a deep breath.
“Now, slowly now, what do you have to ask?”
Slightly red in the cheeks, most likely from being ordered around like an idiot, Lyra asks. “I just wanted to ask, why do you call me Strings?”
I raise my eyebrow. “That all? Simple, your name takes too much effort to pronounce, your surname is Heartstrings, so I call you Strings. Problem with that?”
“No, it just seems... surprisingly casual, is all.”
I shrug. “Maybe, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to put effort into saying someone's name.”
Something else seems to be bothering Lyra, but she doesn’t seem ready to speak yet, so I pick up one of my cupcakes and let her stew in her thoughts.
‘None of this makes sense.’ I think, as I slowly nibble away at the cupcake I was given.
That's what it felt like, this day has been confusing. This morning, I got transferred to a new homegroup, made made the first sorta-friend since I got to this Faust-forsaken school, still wind up alone for lunch, end up sitting on the table with someone my new friend says is the most dangerous person in school, get singled out as usual for bullying by Black Saturday, out of the blue the dangerous person defends me, then the next thing I’m sitting under a tree with said dangerous person sharing her lunch. Needless to say I am having trouble keeping up with my life at this point.
It occurs to me that I haven’t thanked Pinkamena yet for defending me. “Hey um, Pinkamena.”
“Yes?”
“I just thought I would thank you, you know, for helping me back there,” I say, too abashed to look her in the face.
“While that’s sweet and all, you really shouldn’t be thanking me for that.”
“Huh? Why not?”
She sighs. “Saturday was annoying me, so I lashed out at her so get her to shut up, When I brought you with me, it was to piss her off further by openly defying her. if anything I’ve probably made it worse for you.”
This makes my hair stand on end. “Worse?”
“She knows she can’t get back at me directly, but you were sitting at my table, and I seemingly defended you, so she might use you as a way of indirectly attacking me.”
“...Oh,” I say, deflating.
“Sorry kid, but that's how I see it.” she says.
I sit there in silence, letting what Pinkamena said sink in. Black Saturday was bad enough before, and now she has even more reason to bully me. My days were suddenly looking a whole lot bleaker.
Suddenly a little voice in my head spoke up. ‘What are you going on about? Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you’re missing a huge opportunity here!’
‘Huh?’ I think.
‘Think about it, you may be facing down more torture at the hands of Black Saturday, but you are sitting next to the perfect counter, the only student who will stand up to Black Saturday!”
‘What? But how-’
‘It doesn’t matter how, but you’ve gotta try, or otherwise it’s Black Saturday.’
At that moment Pinkamena gets up and starts walking away. “Ten minutes ‘til class, better get moving.”
“Um, wait a minute! Please!” I blurt out.
She turns to face me and raises her eyebrow.
I scamble to my feet and take a deep breath to organise my thoughts. “I just wanted to ask, that, um, maybe if you don’t mind too much, if I could perhaps… you know, hang out, you know, while at school, with you. Please?”
Pinkamena’s eyebrow somehow raises further and I swear I see a tiny spark of surprise. “I’m sorry, are you serious?”
“I’m not saying we have to be friends or anything if you don’t want to, I’d just like to, maybe, tag along with you while at school. I promise I won’t get in the way or anything!” I plead. “Please just consider it.”
Pinkamena shakes her head, I don’t think you fully know what you're asking.”
"Oh come on Pinkamena, you owe her for dropping her in the deep doo-” says the possibly non-existent horse, before Pinkamena cut her off.
“No, you both listen,” says Pinkamena, seemingly directing her words at the ground in between us. “I get it, you're frightened by the big bad Saturday, and you want some sort of protection, but are you seriously going to enlist me as some sort of bodyguard? What do you seriously think will happen if suddenly I had you following me around all over the place? The big bad loner suddenly getting a tag along, do you think people won’t notice? Do you think Saturday will take it lying down? The price for me accepting this little proposal is suddenly get a whole lot of attention that I don’t want, did you consider that? No, of course you didn’t, no one ever does.” She turns on her heel. “See you around, Strings.” With that she walks off.
I stand there, too stunned to move, my head slowly drooping. My one chance, and I blew it.
Thinking about it, I guess it is a little selfish to expect someone like her to stick out her neck like that. I mean, what had I done for her?
But that doesn’t change the fact that now I am now alone again.
Unnoticed by myself tears start to well in my eyes.
Just me and Black Saturday, and all the little nasty things she can dream up.
One slowly slides down my cheek.
Sure, Ditzy’s kind of my friend, but after Saturday catches wind, how long will that last?
They really start flowing,
Lets face it I’m well and truly...
Alone.
As I walk down the hill I am suddenly confronted with the face of Pinkie Pie level with my own. She has a bundle of balloons tied to her middle which were apparently keeping her afloat. Instead of the angry or grumpy face I was expecting she wears one of complete dejection. Her hair has gone limp, surprisingly reminiscent of my own.
“What? You're gonna preach some more? I’ve already made my decision,” I say, crossing my arms.
“I know you find me annoying, but please, hear me out,” pleads Pinkie. “While I don’t understand your decision, I know it means a lot to you, but you have to turn around.
“Why should I? How could I possibly benefit from having someone like that tagging along all over the place?”
“Please, just turn around.”
“I already said-.”
“I’m not saying you have to care, just turn around and look,” says Pinkie. “Just turn around, and if you still don’t care, then I promise... I’ll leave you alone.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Seriously? That's all? just turn around look, and then you’ll be out of my hair?”
Pinkie nods mutely.
I release a heavy sigh. “Fine, I’ll humour you.”
I turn around.
Back on the hill, exactly where I left her, is Lyra.
Crying.
I feel a pair of hands on my shoulders, I look up to the very annoyed face of Pinkamena.
“Alright fine, you made your damn point, you can follow me around if you want, just stop the bloody waterworks.”
“Wuh?” I sniff.
“You heard me Strings, now are you gonna stop crying or do I have to slap you?”
I straighten up, startled. “What um, no, I’m good.” I rub my eyes quickly. “See?”
Pinkamena takes her hands from my shoulders and starts walking down the hill. “Good, now are you gonna come or what? I ain’t gonna be late because of you.”
I scamper after her and fall in behind.
“Just do what I say and don’t expect any favours, remember that and we’ll get along just fine. And not a word from you!” she says, the last part addressed to the air next to her.
“Yes ma’am.” I say, wondering just what I’ve gotten myself into.
Never-the-less, after the gloom I had just experienced, I suddenly feel a whole lot better. Hell, I felt like a million dollars, for the first time since I got to this school things were looking up, I had a sorta friend, someone badass to protect me from bullies, and somewhere to sit safely at lunch. I wasn’t in the same homegroup as Saturday anymore, nor in any of the same classes.
“You’re smiling,” notes Pinkamena.
Her voice jolts me back to reality. “Oh sorry, I was just-”
“Don’t be,” she says, cutting me off. “It looks good on you, do it more often.”
I stop, stunned, before beaming. “Yes ma’am!”
Chapter Six - You don't have to be mad to live here...
A crisp Thursday morning once again has myself and Pinkie walking to school, with a conversation that I am coming to expect from the small pink horse.
“I spy with my little eye…”
“There’s nothing little about them I assure you.”
“... Something beginning with…”
“No.”
“Aww come on Mena! Lighten up!” says Pinkie, bouncing on the spot beside me, “You’ve made a friend… well kinda, not really. But still it's a start!”
“Need I remind you that it wasn’t me who wanted friends in the first place?” I say. “Wait a minute, what did you call me?”
“I called you Mena, silly, our name is too long, and I couldn’t shorten it to Pinkie, since that’s my nickname, so I took the end instead.”
“And who said I wanted a nickname?”
“Maybe, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to put effort into saying someone's name,” she says in a perfect impression of me.
That stops me in my tracks, and I look down, her hair is straight and she is wearing a rather smug expression on her face, with one eyebrow raised high.
“Never do that again.” I say curtly.
“You're no fun,” says Pinkie, her hair returning to a fluffy mess.
We walk in silence for a while. Passing the house I assume to be Lyra’s, I almost expect her to run out and ask to be walked to school, but apparently she at least respects my boundaries enough not to bother me before school. Either that or she was still frightened enough of me that she kept her distance unless she had to. Not that it matters, either was fine by me.
“You could wait for her, you know,” says Pinkie.
“I am well aware of that fact,” I say neutrally.
After a pause, Pinkie spoke again. “...Any reason you're not?”
“You’re in my head, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you know?” I reply.
“Let's pretend I’m not for a moment, then what would you say?”
I sigh. “I only agreed to let her tag along to protect her from Saturday, nothing more. I couldn’t give a damn about what happens to her otherwise, her life is not my problem.”
“If you don’t mind me asking-”
“I do, but I don’t think that will stop you anyway.”
“-If you don’t care about her at all, why did you go back?”
“Do you want to make me further regret it?” I ask. Seeing Pinkie’s unimpressed expression, I sigh again. “I hate people who cry, alright?”
Pinkie’s brow furrows. “You… hate them?”
“Most people I can deal with, angry people are easy, happy people I ignore, smug people I can take down a few pegs, aggressive people I can hit. But sad people, people who cry… I can’t deal with that, and something about tears just makes it impossible to ignore.” I go silent for a time and stare into the middle distance, before coming back. “So yeah, sad people annoy the hell out of me.”
The little horse looks thoughtful, before smiling wide. “You know, I think that you’re a whole lot less mean than you think you are.”
“Whatever you say, Pinkie,” I say, resigned to the presence of this horse-me in my life.
I groan as I slowly drag myself out of bed, still not used to my new early waking habits. I attempt to pick myself up, but fail only to to slump, so I lay halfway out of bed, chin resting on the carpet. With a little bit of effort, I manage to roll over with little-to-no grace, and flop on the floor.
I lie there for a bit, contemplating the universe, before finally managing to get to my feet. Stifling a yawn, I pick out a fresh pair of undies from the dresser, a shirt from my wardrobe, and deciding that yesterday's pants were still fit for use, pick them up as well, before making my way to the bathroom, Running the water hot, I strip out of my sky-blue, cloud patterned pajamas, and hop in the cubicle for a quick shower.
Half an hour later, as I examine myself in the mirror as I brush my damp hair, my mind wanders to yesterday, most specifically Pinkamena. While I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, I can’t help but wonder what changed her mind.
‘Maybe I just looked that pathetic’ I think, gloomily.
Still, things were looking up, as long as I stay in Pinkamena’s good books, I may never have to deal with Black Saturday again. The only problem is…
‘How do I stay in good graces of someone like that?’
A very daunting task. Pinkamena seems like a very hard person to please, even the simple act of talking to someone else seems to fill her with ire. Not only that, but she talks to herself, almost every moment I’ve been with her, she’s having a seemingly one sided conversation with thin air, and judging by what she heard, it might be that this mysterious voice was the one vouching for her. I’m not sure whether that’s comforting or not.
“Lyra dear, are you done in there? Mommy needs to use the shower,” came Mom's voice through the door.
“Sorry Mom, be out in a minute!” I call back, quickly towelling myself off and getting into my clothes.
“Good girl, don’t forget to brush your teeth!” she says before wandering off, presumably to get some breakfast. I sigh and get my toothbrush. Sometimes I wish my mom was a psychologist, rather than a dentist, then I might have had a source of expert guidance, instead of just really great teeth.
A conversation plays back in my head. ‘You’re smiling… it looks good on you, do it more often.’
I try a little smile in the mirror, then a bigger one, it looks a little awkward, but not too bad. ‘Maybe good teeth aren't that bad after all.’
I didn’t always arrive at school this early, but considering most sane people are still crawling out of bed by this time I figure it was a good way to avoid bullies. I deposit my stuff in my locker, before fiddling with the combination padlock, I didn’t use to do this either, but yet again, bully problems. Once my locker is, well, locked, I ponder what to do with my time now.
Normally I just find somewhere quiet to hide and hope that no-one finds me before class starts, but now I have another possible escape, Pinkamena. She seems to get up around the same time as me, judging from the fact that I saw her outside my house.
I lean against the locker. But just because I can go to Pinkamena, should I? It’s clear Pinkamena doesn’t want me around, but she is still sticking her neck out for me, should I really exploit her like that? Maybe I should keep her as a last resort, rather than as a go to option, but then I would still have a lot of the same problems I had before, with nowhere to sit at lunch, no-one to talk to and nowhere to hide.
So it seems I am stuck in a moral dilemma, either I exploit the only person who is willing to help me in this school, or respect her boundaries, and keep going through hell. Why is life never simple?
“Hey! Minty!”
I look up to see two cheerleader-looking types, who are looking in my direction, I guess they're talking to me… Even mornings aren’t safe it seems.
“Yeah you, mint green, we need a word with you.”
“Y-yes?” I say, hoping that they are just really aggressively asking for the time.
“You’re Pinkamena's new tag-along, aren't you?” demands the blond one in front.
Guess not. “Umm, maybe?” I say evasively.
“Don’t you ‘maybe’ us, Minty Fresh, everyone's already heard about what happened yesterday,” she says, walking forward.
A part of me wonders why she asked me if she already knew, another is wondering why she keeps calling me variations of minty, but most of me is occupied with trying to back off from this girl, an act that is thwarted by the lockers behind me.
“It’s kind of unusual,” the girl says, closing the distance, “Ol’ Pinkamena has been friendless for the whole of highschool, and seemingly quite content with that fact… And then along comes you and suddenly you can sit at her table, and she will defend you from Saturday…”
Suddenly the girls pin me to my locker. “What have you got on her?”
“Wha…?”
“Don’t play around, a complete nobody suddenly being all chummy with the school's lone wolf? Get real, what is it, Bribery? Blackmail? We want to know what you know.”
“Errr…” I say, realising what Pinkamena must have meant with trouble coming out of this arrangement.
“Hurry up, before I sick Violet on you. She can be very persuasive when she wants to be,” she says, shaking me by the shoulders.
“What are you two idiots doing?” says a familiar voice.
The two girls turn around to see Pinkamena standing in the middle of the hallway with her usual ‘resting bitch face’ present. “It’s a little early for that kind of thing, isn’t it?”
The two girls spring away from me and position themselves in front of Pinkamena, before the blonde one declares triumphantly, “Ha! We thought you’d find you somewhere around here, we will have you know that your head ghost no longer frightens us! We have come prepared. Violet if you please,” she says, holding out her hand.
“I don’t like where this is going,” says the ‘head ghost’.
Violet places something in her hand, and the blond one thrusts it out triumphantly. “Aha! Feast your undead eyes on this!”
Pinkamena looks down at the offending article. ”You do know garlic is for vampires, right?”
The blonde one (really wish someone would say her name already) deflates somewhat, before quickly going into a two person huddle with Violet. When they came out again her look of triumph is back. “Very well then, how about this!”
“Silver is for werewolves, Catherine,” says Pinkamena, unimpressed.
Catherine (thanks Pinkamena) deflates again, before perking up and reaching behind her back. “Well what about... this!”
“You are holding that cross upside down, you know.”
“This…?”
Pinkamena leans in closer, examining the object. “Points for obscurity, but Iron is for the fae.”
Catherine looks thoroughly annoyed, tossing the horseshoe over her shoulder. “Then what do you do for possessions then!?”
“I’m not possessed, you moron, I’m delusional,” snarks Pinkamena.
“What's the difference!?”
“Whether you’re diagnosed by a doctor or a priest.”
*Snrk* The invisible horse is barely holding back laughter.
Catherine points a finger in Pinkamena’s face. “Fine! You win this time, but watch yourself Pinks, one day you’ll slip up!” She turns to me. “And don’t think we are done with you, breath mint. We still need a word with you!” With that they both scamper off.
I blink slowly, having trouble processing all that just happened. I look at Pinkamena, but she seems to have barely registered the incident, and was examining a poster on a wall with barely concealed disinterest.
“Umm…”
“Just ignore them, it's not as if they ever say anything worth listening to,” says Pinkamena.
“Ohh… okay.” Looks like I have to just pretend that didn’t just happen then, great.
“So that is normal for them?” says the unknown third party.
“They vary from dumb bullies to complete loons, Catherine does at any rate, I don’t think Violet talks to anyone but Cath,” says Pinkamena, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Okay?” I say.
Pinkamena turns around, her eyebrow raised. “You're still here?”
Oh, she was talking to herself again, of course. “Sorry, I thought… nevermind.” I say, blushing.
Pinkamena looks at me for a minute before shrugging and continuing down the hall.
”Eh-hem,” says my unseen benefactor.
Pinkamena stops, sighs, and turns back to face me. “Well, you coming? Or do you prefer loitering in the hallway?”
I gawp for a minute, before immediately falling in behind her.
“Was that hard?” says the invisible pink pony that the author is running out of creative ways to describe.
“Only half as hard as listening to you.”
”Hey!” says Pinkie Pie, who I technically don’t know the name of, but the author stopped caring.
“What?” I say, getting that ‘way over my head’ feeling again.
Sitting under my tree, an air of relaxation permeating the air, one that even penetrates the thick skull of my equine companion, who lays curled up beside me. I look down at her diminutive form, she is actually kind of cute when not running her mouth off. I idly reach down and scratch her behind the ear.
She makes some diminutive grunt and kicks her back leg a bit.
As we sit enjoying the morning tranquility, I steadily become aware of a sound drifting from the other side of the tree where Lyra is sitting, a gentle melody that seems to enhance the tranquility rather than disturb it. It sounds like a string instrument of some kind, it isn’t bothering me, so I let it continue, laying back and closing my eyes, I let the soft music wash over me-
“Lyra!”
And immediately cringe as a sour note is hit, along with the pink pony by my side.
“Hey, what gives!” says the irate Pinkie Pie, “I was enjoying that!”
I stand up and peer around the tree to see what the fuss is about, only to see Lyra, being dragged by her arm, away from the tree, by Ditzy.
“What are you doing up here? This is Pinkamena's favourite hangout! Come on we’ve gotta get out of here before she shows up!” says Ditzy, panic in her voice.
“Hey, no, wait, Ditzy, it’s okay! Ditzy, Ditzy my lyre, please stop pulling, Ditzy!” says Lyra, attempting to both prevent being dragged and not falling flat on her face.
“Should we do something?” says Pinkie, tilting her head.
“No time, she usually hangs around here in the morning, she could be here any minute!” says Ditzy, pulling harder.
“Nope,” I say casually, leaning on the tree.
A particularly hard tug on both sides ends with them in a heap on the ground, with Lyra somehow ending up wearing Ditzy’s glasses, and Ditzy with a serious case of wall eyes. After untangling themselves, the two looked at each other for a moment before Ditzy snatched back her glasses and put them back on. I watch in mild fascination as her eyes slowly realign, and in this moment Lyra says, “Ditzy, it's alright. Pinkamena let me come up here.”
Ditzy’s head turns so fast I’m surprised it doesn’t twist off. “She what!?”
I start sidling nonchalantly over.
“She brought me up here.”
Ditzy’s pupils shrink. “Does that mean that she’s…”
“Right behind you? Yes,” I say simply.
Ditzy nearly jumps, before spinning around.
I don’t say anything, just look down at the semi-prone girl, raising an eyebrow.
She springs to her feet, takes a quick glance between me and Lyra, before saying quickly, “Well I seem to have got the wrong handle on this situation-better not take up any more of your time-bye!” before taking off down the hill.
“We have got to work on that demeanour of yours,” says Pinkie.
“No we don’t, it seems to be working just fine,” I say, allowing myself a small smirk.
“Stop wittily misinterpreting me!” pouts Pinkie.
“Why? It seems to be working so far.”
“You’re lucky I’m your friend,” says Pinkie, crossing her forehooves.
“Lucky me,” I say, looking down, where Lyra is still sitting down. I lean over and and grab her arm, hauling her to her feet.
She stumbles a bit, evidently not expecting to be picked up, but rights herself, and dusts the grass off her clothes. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” I shrug.
Lyra looks down the hill to where Ditzy ran off to, she seems to have something on her mind again.
“You have a question, spit it,” I say, crossing my arms.
She jumps a bit, and looks like she is about to blurt something out, before my glare reminds her to sort out her thoughts first before speaking. After talking a calming breath, she asks, “I was just wondering… and please don’t take this the wrong way… but why is it that everyone is afraid of you?”
I carefully consider my answer, before shrugging. “Because I want them to be.”
With that, I turn and walk back to the tree. “Now I believe you were in the middle of something, don’t let me stop you.”
I lay down on my side of the of tree, and after a moment I hear the music start again.
Pinkie trots up beside me and curls up again. “You know, I could get used to this.”
With only the company of my head, I have no problem with giving a slight nod.
