No magic can cause a cutie mark to appear before its time, but an understanding heart can help.
Another year has passed, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders are still without their cutie marks. Now well past the time when they should have discovered their special talents, it’s time for them to receive the only kind of assistance that can help a cutie mark appear, the understanding heart of another. The counselor who once helped Cheerilee when she got her cutie mark will certainly have his hooves full today!
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Prologue
Three fillies gazed at a large round device, set up outside the tree that serves as Ponyville’s library. A circle of tough fabric was stretched and attached to springs, which were then connected to a circular frame. The edges of the device were covered by quilted fabric, draped over the springs to prevent manes or tails being caught in them. The yellow earth pony and white unicorn smiled as they looked at their proud friend, an orange pegasus.
“Where did ya find a trampoline?” asked Apple Bloom.
“I didn’t,” replied Scootaloo. “Twilight Sparkle was nice enough to conjure one.”
“She must know every spell!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “I wish Rarity or Mom or Dad could do that.”
“Yeah, but she also conjured these,” said Scootaloo, holding up a pair of helmets. Each helmet was painted the color of one of her friends’ coats, with stripes the same color as their manes. “Safety first,” she said, mimicking Twilight Sparkle’s voice.
“That’s right,” said Twilight Sparkle, opening the top half of the door to the library. “I don’t want your crusading to put you in the hospital again.”
“But that only happened with the Cutie Mark Crusaders tightrope walkers,” said Apple Bloom.
“Oh, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders distillers!” said Sweetie Belle.
“And the Cute Mark Crusaders cliff climbers!” said Scootaloo.
“Maybe we have been doing a lot of dangerous things,” said Sweetie Belle.
“But Ah’m sure we’ll find our cutie marks today!” said Apple Bloom hopefully.
“Like I said, be careful,” Twilight Sparkle chided. “Don’t do anything crazy, and you won’t get hurt.”
The three fillies’ spirits deflated slightly. Still, they donned their helmets, with Scootaloo putting on the helmet she normally wore while riding her scooter. Raising their hooves and placing them together, the three fillies shouted, “Cutie Mark Crusaders trampoline acrobats are go!”
Scootaloo was the first to climb onto the trampoline, helping her friends up afterwards. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom stood hesitantly on the side of the trampoline, not sure what to do.
“Come on, it’ll be fun!” the pegasus said. She stepped to the center of the trampoline and began jumping. Even without using her wings, the rebound provided by the trampoline propelled her high into the air. Scootaloo grinned as she felt herself rise into the air, imagining she was taking off towards the clouds.
“That does look like fun!” said Apple Bloom. She joined Scootaloo in her bouncing. Sweetie Belle, determined not to be left out, followed.
The three fillies enjoyed the haphazard motions of trampolining. Squeals of joy filled the air. The movement of the fabric underneath their hooves, ever-changing based on the motions of the three jumpers, caused the fillies to bounce in different directions, occasionally bumping into each other. They tried bouncing on their hooves, on their rumps, and on their sides. The giving surface of the trampoline made each bounce safe and fun.
Scootaloo glanced through the window of the library. Twilight Sparkle’s focus had returned to a thick book. Scootaloo moved towards the edge of the trampoline, checked Twilight again, and stepped off. Casting a glance to the limbs of the library’s tree home, Scootaloo flapped her wings furiously, rising enough in the air to reach the lowest branch. Repeating the process several times, she reached a branch two stories up.
Scootaloo peered down at the trampoline, planning her jump, picturing in her mind the awesome bounce she’d enjoy. With a twitch of her muscles, the pegasus jumped off the branch. “YEAAAAH!” she screamed as she fell.
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom looked up in surprise. They bounced away from the center as the orange daredevil landed. As Scootaloo had expected, she rebounded incredibly high, at least one story. But her momentum carried her away from the trampoline. She beat her wings in an attempt to reorient herself.
Meanwhile, the force of Scootaloo’s rebound threw off the rhythm the other fillies had established. They bounced in unexpected directions, away from the trampoline. Sweetie Belle was able to catch her hooves on the edge of the trampoline, before slipping to the ground. Apple Bloom, on the other hoof, was going to crash. However, she was surprised to be caught on the back of another pony.
The pony grunted, then asked, “Are you okay?” He lowered himself to the ground to allow the filly to step off.
Apple Bloom, shaken, just nodded. Once on the ground, she looked at the pony who caught her. He was a brown earth pony with a yellow mane. His cutie mark was an open book. And he was old. Not Granny Smith old, but definitely older than most of the adults in her life. She was pretty sure he was a visitor to Ponyville, as she had never seen him before.
“Ah’m sorry, sir,” Apple Bloom apologized.
The older pony stretched, working out a kink in his back. “Don’t worry. It was nothing serious, I think.”
By this time, all three fillies were looking at the stranger. He smiled warmly. “I think you are just the ponies to help me. I’m looking for the Ponyville schoolhouse. Can you give me directions?”
“Of course, sir,” said Sweetie Belle. “Down the road, you’ll see Sugarcube Corners—that’s the building that looks like a gingerbread house. Turn left at that intersection, and take that street until you reach the schoolhouse. You can’t miss it.”
“I thank you for your assistance,” the stallion said.
As the stranger departed, the three fillies whispered conspiratorially. “Who was that?” asked Apple Bloom.
“Are we getting a new teacher?” wondered Scootaloo.
“Maybe Cheerilee has a new special somepony!” said Sweetie Belle.
“But he’s so old!” Scootaloo commented.
“That doesn’t matter for true love,” Sweetie Belle explained.
“We should help him out!” suggested Apple Bloom.
“Yeah!” Scootaloo replied enthusiastically. “Cutie Mark Crusader matchmakers!”
“But we already tried that, two Hearts and Hooves Days ago!” said Apple Bloom. “And we royally screwed that up.”
“Then we’ll do it right this time!” said Scootaloo.
A pony cleared her throat. The fillies looked up, and realized Twilight Sparkle had been standing over them, probably for some time. “I told you to be careful, girls, and the minute I looked away, you almost killed yourself. I think the only thing you’re going to be today is Cutie Mark Crusader library cleaners.”
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 1: Group Session
Cheerilee watched her class as she went over her math lesson. The foals’ eyes, however, were drifting from the blackboard to the clock. The school day was nearing its end, a time when every teacher had difficulty keeping her students’ attention. She smiled as the bell rang. “Now, I hope everypony was paying close attention this afternoon, because we’re having a math quiz tomorrow!” she said cheerily. Just a hint of fear crossed her students’ faces, and Cheerilee smiled.
As the students gathered their books, the teacher made one last announcement. “Cutie Mark Crusaders, please stay after class.”
Diamond Tiara smiled wickedly at them. “Ooh, you’re so in trouble!” she sneered.
“Are not!” Apple Bloom retorted. “Are we?” she asked her friends.
“The only pony who’ll be in trouble is you, Miss Diamond Tiara, if you keep that up.” With a harrumph, the snotty filly departed.
Once the other ponies had departed, Sweetie Belle asked her teacher, “Are you sure we’re not in trouble?”
“You’re not,” Cheerilee explained. “Follow me.”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders followed Cheerilee down the hallway, approaching that place that struck terror in the hearts of good schoolfoals everywhere. Three words: the principal’s office. The fillies let out a sigh of relief as they passed that door. Instead, Cheerilee opened an adjacent door, one the ponies had never seen open before.
The three fillies couldn’t figure out what to make of this room. Benches of various shapes and sizes were placed haphazardly around the room. There were balls, blocks, and other toys. They spotted an easel, and other art supplies. Small bookshelves contained books for ponies of all ages. It was as if every different room of the schoolhouse contributed some of its excess to this mysterious room.
And the room wasn’t unoccupied. A familiar older earth pony was already seated. “Good afternoon. I thought it might be you I’d be meeting today,” he said.
“Uh, hello, sir,” Apple Bloom said. “Ah hope yer not sore from yesterday.”
“Oh, I’ll be fine,” he replied.
“Now, girls, this is Open Book,” Cheerilee said. “He’s a counselor from Canterlot, and he’s come to town to help you.”
“Please, come in, and make yourselves comfortable,” Open Book said warmly.
The Cutie Mark crusaders glanced back at their teacher. Cheerilee’s encouraging smile helped erase their doubts. “Please speak with Open Book for as long as you want. You’re free to go afterwards,” she explained, then closed the door.
Apple Bloom sat on a bench, and looked around the room. Scootaloo settled into a beanbag chair and sulked. Sweetie Belle stood, suddenly finding a red rubber ball to be fascinating.
Finally, Apple Bloom broke the silence. “What did Miss Cheerilee mean about you helpin’ us?” she asked
“I’m a counselor. My special talent is helping other ponies,” Open Book explained. “Specifically, I want to help you discover your special talents and earn your cutie marks.”
“What would you know about that?” accused Scootaloo. She stared at the ground; she wouldn’t even meet the earth pony’s gaze.
“Because, girls, I was the last pony in my class to earn his cutie mark,” said Open Book.
The three fillies raised their heads and leaned in closer after hearing Open Book’s admission.
“But I think my case is somewhat different than yours,” Open Book said. “I was so focused on helping my friends uncover their own special talents that I wasn’t really trying to discover mine. When my last friend finally earned her cutie mark, my own appeared right afterwards. Right then, I knew I was going to help future generations of colts and fillies with the problems they faced growing up.”
“Then help us! We’ve tried everything!” Apple Bloom implored.
Open Book referred to his notes. “Yes, Cheerilee mentioned something about your, what did she call it, crusading?”
“That’s right,” said Sweetie Belle. “We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” she continued, in unison with her friends.
Open Book again referred to his notes. “Cheerilee said you’ve tried zip-lining, mountain climbing, and hang gliding?” He thought back to the previous afternoon. “And now, apparently, trampolining?”
“Uh-huh,” said Apple Bloom.
Open Book chuckled. “That sounds like my last vacation. A Mareibbean Sea cruise. I did all of those activities at the various ports of call.”
The fillies fell silent, unsure how to respond to Open Book’s apparent non sequitur. “That’s… nice?” Sweetie Belle finally said.
More silence followed. Then, Scootaloo raised her head. “I get it! You’re saying we don’t have to stop doing these things after we get our cutie marks!” she said. Open Book just nodded.
Scootaloo scowled. “So you’re accusing us of sabotaging our own efforts to earn our cutie marks!” she said accusingly.
Open Book tried to wave off Scootaloo’s attack. “Let’s not be hasty,” he said. “Allow me to explain. And I apologize if this sounds too much like one of Cheerilee’s lectures.” That comment earned chuckles from the three fillies.
“For being such an important part of being a pony, there’s very little formal study of cutie marks,” Open Book started. “It is understood that a cutie mark represents a pony’s special talent, and that they can take obvious or abstract forms, though always personally meaningful to the individual pony. But not much is understood about when things go wrong.”
“Are we goin’ wrong?” asked Apple Bloom.
“Now, I’m not going to make any judgments without learning more about you,” Open Book replied. “That said, let me describe some of the conditions I’ve discovered in my work.
“Some ponies fixate on a talent they don’t truly have. Perhaps they have some talent in this area, but not at the level that makes them special. Often this happens with one of the ‘celebrity’ occupations, like athlete, actor, or musician. Such a fixation can delay the discovery of one’s true special talent.
“Others try to fight their fate. This decision often manifests in foals trying to be something different than their parents. But talents are often hereditary, so fighting one’s genes can be counterproductive towards the goal of earning one’s cutie mark.
“On occasion, a pony’s cutie mark will point him in the wrong direction. Most often, one blindly follows the suggestion of one’s cutie mark in a direction that is not actually one’s talent. That is typically a situation where one mistakes the literal meaning of a cutie mark for the more abstract symbolism that it actually represents. However, on rare occasions, a pony’s cutie mark will be wrong, and he will fail when trying to pursue that endeavor. That can be tragic.
“Finally, it is very rare, but some ponies never earn their cutie marks. But that is such a exceptional happening, that if three fillies of the same age from the same small town all had this condition… well, you should be placing bets in Las Pegasus.”
“That’s a great idea!” said Sweetie Belle.
“We could be Cutie Mark Crusader poker players!” said Apple Bloom.
“Now hold on a second, girls,” Open Book interrupted. The three fillies looked up from their plotting. “What gave you the idea that you would be good at poker?” he asked.
They paused. “We won’t know until we try, right?” said Scootaloo.
“Have you ever played poker before?” the counselor asked.
The fillies looked at each other. “Ah guess not,” Apple Bloom replied.
“Do you think that poker is likely to be your talent?”
“Maybe?” Scootaloo replied noncommittally.
“But Rainbow Dash said, the best way to find yer talent is to try lots of things at once!” Apple Bloom said.
Open Book checked his notes. “Rainbow Dash, you said?” He set his notes down. “In my experience, that approach is… not the best way to uncover one’s special talent. It’s normally better to try activities you’ve done in the past with some success. Think about your families. Do you think they were instantly good at their talents?”
Sweetie Belle pondered. “I’m not really sure about Mom and Dad, but Rarity’s story was pretty much like that!” she said.
“Same fer Applejack, but… Ah’d have to ask how good she was at applebuckin’ the first time she tried it,” said Apple Bloom.
Open Book smiled. “I think this session is done. Tonight, I want you fillies to think about everything you know about cutie marks,” he said. “I’d like to speak to each of you, individually, later on, after I speak with your families. Don’t worry. I won’t let you down. I’ve never failed to help a pony understand her special talent. Not even your teacher.”
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 2: Cheerilee’s Tale
Scootaloo turned her gaze to Diamond Tiara. The earth pony filly was smiling, smiling directly at her. She had something planned for recess. Scootaloo was sure of that. That made Scootaloo even happier that she and her friends had decided to talk with their teacher during recess.
“What do you suppose he meant?” Sweetie Belle asked as the three fillies left the counselor’s makeshift office.
“Was Miss Cheerilee a blank flank like us?” wondered Apple Bloom.
“She couldn’t have been one,” said Scootaloo. “She told us all about how she got her cutie mark, when….”
The three fillies paused, each raising a hoof to her chin pensively.
“I guess she never told us,” concluded Scootaloo.
As the bell rang, ponies hurried out of the classroom, determined not to miss one second of recess. But the Cutie Mark Crusaders stayed behind, approaching the teacher’s desk.
“Well, good morning, girls,” said Cheerilee, smiling. “Did you have a good talk with Open Book yesterday?”
“Ah guess,” replied Apple Bloom.
“He gave us a lot to think about,” said Scootaloo. “And one of those things, was....”
“How did you get your cutie mark, Miss Cheerilee?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“But I already told you, girls. I tell that story every year,” Cheerilee explained.
“Nuh-uh,” said Scootaloo. “You just said you got it when you decided to be a teacher. Well, I decided I wanted to be just like Rainbow Dash, and my flank is still blank.”
“Besides, it doesn’t make any sense. What do flowers with smiling faces have to do with teachin’? How come you’re not a gardener or florist or somethin’?” asked Apple Bloom.
“Yeah!” agreed Sweetie Belle. “Shouldn’t your cutie mark be a blackboard or a ruler or something?”
“Each pony’s cutie mark represents a personal discovery, and so the image can have a very personal meaning,” explained Cheerilee. “Maybe it would be helpful for you girls to hear the whole story.”
The little train car was abuzz with excitement. The foals from Ponyville were on their way to Canterlot, with a chance to see the castle and royal gardens. Many roamed the aisles, talking to friends. Others played games or took in the view as the train winded its way up the mountain. Two adults, their teacher and a volunteer chaperone, kept their eyes on the foals, making sure none caused any problems.
Once the train reached the station, the earth pony teacher, Sunheart, brought the group to order. “Everypony, form a single file line at the door at the front of the car. Don’t forget your saddlebags and your sack lunch!” The foals mostly did as the teacher said, with a minimum of grumbling. As the chaperone, a pegasus named Skyscriber, helped the stragglers, Sunheart inspected the line of foals. Her heart lifted to see the smiling face of a red-violet earth pony filly with a two-tone rose mane at the front of the line. Cheerilee always loved school, always loved her teachers, and was eager to learn on this field trip.
Sunheart counted the foals as they left the train, making sure all sixteen were present. Only four of the foals had found their special talent and earned their cutie marks, but she expected many more would do so before the school year ended. Cheerilee wasn’t thinking about how to earn her cutie mark; she knew that she would be a teacher someday, just like Sunheart.
The foals marveled at the magnificent architecture of the castle. They laughed at the stalwart pegasus and unicorn guards, standing still no matter what the foals tried to do. They gasped when they saw benevolent Princess Celestia step onto a balcony, gazing at her beautiful sun warming Equestria. Then, they entered the gardens.
“Be careful, students. Don’t feed the animals. Be careful not to damage any plants. Look, don’t touch. And if there’s a fence around a plant, it’s there for a reason.” All of the students listened to Sunheart’s guidance before exploring the gardens.
Such a variety of plants! Strange fruits hung from unfamiliar trees. Leaves of every shape drifted to the ground. And the flowers! So many beautiful and exotic flowers! Walking through the garden by herself, Cheerilee enjoyed the sights. Yet it wasn’t one of the garden’s carefully cultivated flower beds that captured her attention. She spied a common flower, one that grew all around Ponyville. Sprouting from the grass were three simple daisies. Did they grow wild? Did somepony plant them, to provide a contrast to the exotic flora around them?
Cheerilee didn’t know how long she looked at these simple flowers. She felt somepony nudge her shoulder. “Cheerilee, Cheerilee, look!” said her friend, Cloud Chaser. Cloud Chaser was pointing to her flank. Cheerilee turned, looked at the three smiling flowers that had appeared there… and broke down crying.
“Wait, what?” said Scootaloo.
“You got yer cutie mark, and you were sad?” wondered Apple Bloom.
“Not sad, children. Frightened. Terrified, really,” Cheerilee answered.
“But that doesn’t make any sense!” said Sweetie Belle.
“Do you remember, a few years ago, when everypony in class grew a pea plant from a seed?” asked Cheerilee.
The three fillies nodded. It was one of those season-long projects that was used to teach lessons in biology, math, and many other subjects, not to mention the self-control necessary to not eat the plant.
“We did that same project when I was a filly,” explained Cheerilee. “I remembered that project well, because my plant died. While some unicorns talk about having a green hoof, a skill with growing things that normally only comes easily to earth ponies, I had the opposite.”
“A brown hoof?” asked Apple Bloom.
“I don’t think anypony uses that term, but you have the right idea. I have a hard time making any plant grow,” said Cheerilee.
“Ohhhh,” said Sweetie Belle, realization dawning. “You thought that your cutie mark was related to plants, but you already knew that wasn’t your talent.”
“I thought my life was over. I could only see failure if I pursued the path suggested by my cutie mark. And I couldn’t follow my true passion. What pony would hire a gardener as a teacher?”
“So what happened?” asked Scootaloo.
“I met with somepony who could help me. A specialist,” Cheerilee replied.
“You mean Open Book?” Sweetie Belle asked.
Cheerilee nodded. “When I first met him, I begged him to find some potion, some spell that could take away my cutie mark. He explained it didn’t work that way. Instead, we talked. We talked about my love of school, my desire to be a teacher. How I was always the happy student in class. He talked to my parents. In the end, he helped me understand what my cutie mark meant.”
The three fillies looked at each other. “We don’t understand,” Apple Bloom finally said.
“Let me show you, girls,” Cheerilee replied. She walked over to her desk, and opened the bottom drawer. The Cutie Mark Crusaders crowded around her legs, looking to get a better view. At the very bottom of the drawer, underneath boxes of school supplies and sheaves of paper, rested an old manila envelope, creased and weathered. Cheerilee carefully opened the envelope and placed its contents on the desk.
The three fillies gazed upon what had to be an old elementary school art project. It was a young foal’s work, crudely made out of colorful construction paper and pipe cleaners. It showed three simple daisy-like flowers, each with a smiling face. In the corner, written in the large uneven letters of foal who has just learned to write by mouth, it said:
CHEERILEE AGE 6
“I made this in my first year of school. But by that day in the gardens, I had forgotten about it,” said Cheerilee. “My mother, however, remembered how proud I was of this simple picture, and saved it for years, in the way mothers just know. She recounted how I told her the flowers were me and my two best friends, and how happy we were to be growing, just like the flowers.
“So, while I didn’t remember at the time about making this picture, it was seeing those daisies that triggered something in my subconscious mind, which became reflected in the form of my cutie mark. My cutie mark was about teaching, about what teaching meant to me. Thanks to Open Book, I regained my cheer, and later, I had an interesting story to tell to other teachers in training.”
“That’s so sweet,” said Sweetie Belle.
“I can’t thank Open Book enough for how he helped me back then,” said Cheerilee. “And when I learned he was still working, I asked him to come and help you. So, please listen to what he has to say. And be honest with him, so that you can be honest with yourself.”
The school bell rang, warning that recess was ending soon. Cheerilee carefully repackaged her precious foalhood artwork
“So what happens next?” asked Scootaloo. “With him, and with us?”
“He’ll be meeting with the ponies who know you best,” explained Cheerilee. “Your family and friends.”
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 3: Applejack’s Honesty
Open Book was sitting in his borrowed, cluttered office, reviewing his notes, when he was interrupted by a firm knock on the door.
“Excuse me? Mr. Book? Am Ah in the right place?” a mare called through the door.
“Yes, please come in,” Open Book replied.
Applejack opened the door, looked around the office, and took a seat on one of the benches. She took off her Stetson and fanned herself.
“You must be Miss Applejack,” Open Book said. “Relax. There’s no need to be nervous.”
Applejack returned her hat to her head. “To be honest, Ah never did like this part of the schoolhouse. Got sent here a little too often for roughhousin’. And just call me Applejack.”
“I’d like to thank you for coming,” said Open Book, getting down to business. “Cheerilee suggested I speak with you about Apple Bloom. Now, normally, I start with the parents, but….”
“Well, Ah’m Apple Bloom’s big sister, and ever since Ah’ve come of age, her legal guardian, if you want to get all official-like,” explained Applejack. “Our parents have both passed on.”
“I understand. You have an older brother as well? Would you prefer a group session?” asked Open Book.
“Big Macintosh? Ah know he wants to help Apple Bloom too, but Ah don’t think he’d be much help, if you know what Ah mean,” said Applejack. “He’s a pony of few words, mostly ‘Eeyup’ and ‘Nope’. ‘Sides, them apple trees ain’t gonna buck themselves. And Ah’m the one with the interesting cutie mark story.”
Open Book leaned forward. “Would you mind telling me that story?” he asked.
“Well, Ah’d got it in my fool filly head that Ah didn’t want to be an apple farmer. So Ah went to live with my big city cousins. And Ah missed home real bad. It was comin’ home that gave me these beautiful apples.” Applejack proudly rubbed her cutie mark.
“That’s actually a fairly common type of cutie mark story, Applejack,” Open Book commented.
“Now what made it unusual is how Ah got my cutie mark at the exact same moment as my best friends, thanks to that Sonic Rainboom by Rainbow Dash,” Applejack continued. “Without that rainbow pointin’ home, Ah don’t know how long Ah would’ve gone deludin’ myself that I wanted to be a city pony.”
“That is an unusual story. However, that’s not likely to be relevant to Apple Bloom’s situation. So let’s talk more about her,” said Open Book. “I’m looking to learn more about Apple Bloom, from the ponies who know her best.”
“That’s a tall order,” said Applejack. “How much time ya got?”
Open Book chuckled. “Thirty minutes. Not enough time to talk about everything, I know. So, what kind of pony is she? What does she do around the farm? What makes her happy?”
“She’s a good filly,” said Applejack. “Polite, respectful, loyal to her friends. Learnin’ more about the farm every day. Pickin’ up Granny Smith’s recipes. Always willin’ to help out wherever.”
“You mentioned recipes. Might her special talent be related to cooking?” asked Open Book.
“To be honest, probably not. She’s pretty lost in the kitchen without a recipe. Granny Smith, on the other hoof, can taste somethin’ and know exactly what’s wrong with it,” said Applejack. “And know just how to fix it.”
“Tell me more about her friends,” Open Book asked. “I’ve met the other two Cutie Mark Crusaders. What about her other friends?”
“To be honest, Apple Bloom spends most of her time with those two fillies now, hangin’ out in the clubhouse and goin’ all over Ponyville,” responded Applejack. “Ah’ve seen her with foals like Pip and Featherweight some. She spent a lot of time with Twist before she got her cutie mark. But she gets along with most of the foals in her class. Not so much with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, though.”
Open Book paused. “Let me go in a different direction,” he said. “In my experience, most ponies who have difficulty earning their cutie marks will begin to focus on them to a greater degree at some point. Is that true of Apple Bloom?”
“Whoa, Nelly, you don’t know the half of it,” Applejack replied. “Apple Bloom started to worry about it when she looked around and saw almost every pony in her class had her cutie mark. Somepony was holding a cute-ceañera, and Apple Bloom was worried ‘bout being a blank flank. This was before she got to know the others, mind you. So Ah brought her along to the market, to help me sell apples. That’s an important part of bein’ a farmer, and Ah figured she might just have a gift. All Ah’ll say is, it did not go well. She went off with Rainbow Dash later, and that didn’t work either. And ever since, she’s been doin’ all sorts of crazy things.”
“Miss Cheerilee suggested I ask about the Ponyville school talent show,” said Open Book. “What do you remember about it?”
“The fillies came back from another day of crusadin’ without their cutie marks, but with this flier talkin’ about a talent show,” Applejack recalled. “So they planned a song and dance number. Ah heard them practicin’. It wasn’t very good, but they thought Ah liked it. Later, Ah went to see the show. It was bad. Now, Ah can’t fault them for tryin’, but it’s like they put themselves in the wrong place.”
“What do you mean?” asked Open Book.
“Well, to start, Ah heard the singin’ at practice. And Sweetie Belle had a nice voice, but it was Scootaloo singin’ on stage. The props were really crude. Ah know my sister could’ve done a better job. And speakin’ of Apple Bloom, she was doin’ kung fu moves on stage.” Applejack laughed.
Open Book couldn’t help but laugh along with Applejack. “That sounds like a once in a lifetime performance,” he said. “But why did you say Apple Bloom could have done a good job with the props?”
“It was all painted wooden construction,” Applejack remembered. “And Apple Bloom did a mighty fine job repairing that clubhouse. She replaced the rotted planks, patched the roof, and painted it up all nice. Did it without much help at all.”
“Do you think that could be her talent?” asked Open Book.
“Could be,” Applejack said. “Hard to tell, as that kind of work’s dangerous for a filly her age. There ain’t many little jobs like that. But Ah say it’d be a mite bit unusual for an Apple to get a cutie mark that’s not an apple.”
“I have observed that kind of family cutie mark trait, particularly in earth pony ‘grower’ families, the farmers and orchard folk,” said Open Book. “But if that’s true, then, as a sister and a parental figure, shouldn’t you be discouraging Apple Bloom’s crusading? Give her more responsibilities around the farm instead?”
Applejack considered the counselor’s words. “Ah didn’t think of it like that. Ah don’t want to get in the way of a friendship.”
“I’m not suggesting you do that,” Open Book said. “My purpose in coming here is to help Apple Bloom and her friends get past whatever is stopping them from getting their cutie marks. Doing new things together isn’t a problem, as long as it isn’t a symptom of some psychological problem.”
“Cycle-what now?” said Applejack.
“Psychological. In the mind,” explained Open Book. “Apple Bloom says she wants to earn her cutie mark. She says she’s trying new things to find her special talent. But what if, subconsciously, she’s doing these things precisely because she knows they won’t get her closer to earning her cutie mark?”
“Ah’m the element of honesty. If Apple Bloom were lyin’ to me, Ah’d know,” Applejack said sternly.
“It’s not that simple,” Open Book replied. “She may actively believe this crusading is the right thing to do, but there’s something buried deep within her that knows it’s not. I won’t be able to help her if I can’t bring that something to the surface. And that’s why I’m talking to you.”
“Ah’ll help all I can,” said Applejack. “But if there’s something so secret that Apple Bloom doesn’t know it, Ah’m not sure how I’m goin’ to help you.”
“I think you’ve helped quite a bit, Applejack,” said the counselor. “I’ll be speaking to Apple Bloom one-on-one later, and I know what to talk about.” He glanced at the clock. “I have about five minutes before my next appointment. One more thing Miss Cheerilee suggested I ask about is the ‘cutie pox incident’. What happened there?”
Applejack sighed. “That wasn’t one of Apple Bloom’s best moments. One day, she stole a plant called Heart’s Desire from Zecora –that’s the zebra who lives in the Everfree Forest—and used it. Heart’s Desire is some powerful magical plant that does just what the name says—it grants your heart’s desire. Ah guess Apple Bloom used it sayin’ she wanted her cutie mark, and it worked. She got a cutie mark. But since magic can’t make a cutie mark appear before its time….”
“…it made a cutie mark appear in the only other way possible, via the cutie pox,” finished Open Book. “I’m surprised I didn’t hear about this back in Canterlot. The cutie pox is a rare and dangerous disease.”
“Ah don’t rightly know what happened,” said Applejack. “When Apple Boom kept getting cutie marks, and then started acting on ‘em, we knew somethin’ was wrong. Twilight Sparkle identified it as cutie pox. Maybe we cured it fast enough. Maybe it was never contagious. Or maybe we just got lucky. Nopony else got the disease, so that’s why you didn’t hear about it.”
“So what cutie marks did she get? Did one of them accurately reflect her talent?” asked Open Book.
“Shoot, Ah don’t remember what they all were,” said Applejack. “Ah remember the first one, hoop-spinnin’. Turns out, once she got cured, she wasn’t any good at it anymore. That happened with all those talents. You’d have to ask mah sister for more details.”
“I will,” said Open Book. He checked the clock again. “It looks like I’m out of time. If I have any more questions, I’ll get in contact with you.”
“Thank you, pardner,” said Applejack. “Who are you talkin’ to next?”
“Apparently, one of your friends,” Open Book replied. “Rainbow Dash.”
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 4: Rainbow Dash In Thirty Minutes Flat
Open Book looked out the door. “Strange. It looks like my second appointment isn’t here yet. Let me walk you out, Applejack.”
“Thank you kindly,” the orange mare replied.
The schoolhouse was still after school. Everypony else had already headed home, so the hoofsteps of the two earth ponies were the only sound heard.
“I thought I’d at least hear her by now,” mused Open Book.
Applejack and Open Book stepped out of the schoolhouse. He was ready to see her off, but something caught his eye. A suspiciously low-lying cloud was hovering just outside the schoolhouse. A rainbow-colored tail dangled from it.
“Miss Rainbow Dash?” asked Open Book. “Excuse me, ma’am?” he called louder.
“Ah’m afraid you need to handle it with a bit more force, pardner.” Applejack stared at the cloud, and then inhaled. “RAINBOW DASH! GET YER LAZY FLANK DOWN HERE!” she yelled.
The entire cloud suddenly shook. The pegasus concealed within rolled around, two legs and a wing poking their way out of the cloud before she fully awakened.
The cyan-colored, rainbow-maned head of the pegasus looked down from the cloud. “Eh heh heh. Nice to see you, Applejack!”
“Miss Rainbow Dash? Are you ready for our session?” asked Open Book.
Rainbow Dash stretched. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” She hovered in the air, and then kicked the cloud away. It dissipated into nothingness.
As Rainbow Dash followed Open Book inside, he said, “We don’t have a lot of time for this session. I want to learn as much as I can about Scootaloo in the time remaining.”
Rainbow Dash lowered her head. “Sorry about that. I should have been waiting inside,” she admitted.
The two ponies stepped inside the office. Open Book took his customary seat and picked up his notes. Rainbow Dash tried to find a comfortable position on one of the benches, and failed; she headed for the beanbag chair instead.
“Miss Dash, Cheerilee suggested that you would be a good pony to talk with, to learn more about Scootaloo,” Open Book said. “But she didn’t mention how you were related.”
“We’re not related,” Rainbow Dash explained. “Scootaloo is my number one fan, head of the Rainbow Dash Fan Club. I like her attitude, so I keep an eye on the squirt,” she said confidently.
“Normally, I like to speak with the parents,” Open Book said. Remembering Apple Bloom’s situation, he waited to see how Rainbow Dash would respond.
“Scootaloo’s parents live in Cloudsdale, so you don’t see them here very often,” Rainbow Dash said. “They both work in the weather factory.”
“Sending a foal away? That sounds unusual,” Open Book commented.
“A lot of pegasus parents choose to send their foals to Ponyville’s school when they’re young,” explained Rainbow Dash. “You know, to help with harmony among ponies and stuff. So the foal stays with volunteers, host families, for most of the time, normally until she’s ready for flight school.”
“I never realized that about Ponyville,” said Open Book. “Back in Canterlot, there’s a sizable pegasus population already living in town, thanks to the Guard. Are all the pegasi foals in school from Cloudsdale?”
“No, there are some who live in town. Mostly the foals from mixed marriages,” said Rainbow Dash. “A few pegasus families live in the area, like the weather team members.”
“It must be lonely for Scootaloo, being on her own,” Open Book said.
“I don't know. Being on my own never bothered me, and I don’t think it bothers Scootaloo,” said Rainbow Dash.
“But you’ve never asked her?” said the counselor.
“No. I’m not really a touchy-feely pony,” said Rainbow Dash.
“I see,” said Open Book noncommittally.
“Did you want to talk to her parents?” asked Rainbow Dash. “If you think it'll help, I'll take the message to them personally. I can fly to Cloudsdale in, like, ten minutes flat.”
“I'll keep your offer in mind, Miss Dash,” said Open Book. “But I think you'll have a better insight to what might be troubling Scootaloo.”
“So how can I help?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“Tell me more about Scootaloo,” said the counselor. “Other than being your fan, what does she like to do?”
“She zips around town on her scooter,” said Rainbow Dash. “She likes going fast, doing jumps and stunts and stuff. She's a little daredevil. Reminds me of me, when I was younger.”
“A scooter? Isn't that unusual for a pegasus her age?” asked Open Book.
“Yeah,” admitted Rainbow Dash. “But it's not her fault her wings haven't fully grown in.”
“Have you helped her with learning to fly?” said Open Book.
“I have, but there's not much to do before a pegasus can stay aloft for an extended period,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Are there any similarities between your history and hers? Were you also a late flier?” asked the counselor.
“Heck no!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash. “By the time I was her age, I had mastered flight school, earned my cutie mark, performed a Sonic Rainboom, and entered the Best Young Flier in Equestria competition!”
“Then why emulate you? Do you think she wants to be more than your fan?” asked Open Book.
“Huh?” Rainbow Dash responded.
“Do you think she might be hoping for something more like family? Someone to provide advice, someone to support her, in a more permanent way than these volunteer families can handle?” said Open Book.
“If she does, she's got the wrong pony,” answered Rainbow Dash. The counselor stared at Rainbow Dash, tapping his pencil idly on his pad of paper.
“Fine,” said Rainbow Dash. “I really want to help her, but I can't stand losing! Everything I do, I want to win, so I don't want to do something I'm bad at.”
“There's no first place in relationships,” said Open Book. “And nopony starts out good at them. The only way to lose is to avoid them entirely.”
Rainbow Dash shifted uncomfortably in her beanbag chair. “I thought we were here to talk about Scootaloo,” she said, changing the subject.
“We're here to help Scootaloo,” corrected Open Book. “I'll talk about what I think will help her. But if you would rather talk about Scootaloo, I have some more questions.”
“Okay,” said Rainbow Dash.
“It sounds like the filly really loves getting around on her scooter, even if she would prefer to fly,” said the earth pony. “Has she entered any competitions? Races, stunt shows, something like that?”
Rainbow Dash pondered, rubbing her chin with a hoof. “I don't remember her doing anything like that. She's, like, the only pony with a scooter, but I don't recall her doing any racing. Not even playground stuff,” she said.
“That doesn't sound like you,” said Open Book.
“Flying, running, swimming; if there's a competition, I'm in it to win it!” said the pegasus.
“Does Scootaloo know that?” he asked.
“Huh?” Rainbow Dash replied, again confused.
“Does she understand her favorite flier's cutie mark isn't just about flying?” said the counselor.
Rainbow Dash ran a hoof through her mane. “I remember telling her my totally awesome story about how I got my cutie mark, but yeah, she probably focused on my radical flying,” she said.
“I think this conversation has given me a lot to talk about when I meet with Scootaloo later,” said Open Book. “One more subject I'd like to discuss. Did you see the school talent contest a couple of years ago?”
Rainbow Dash laughed. She laughed so hard, she fell backwards in her beanbag chair. “Yeah, that was hilarious,” she said, once she finally caught her breath. The pegasus sat up.
“What did you think of Scootaloo's performance, then?” the counselor asked.
“Um, yeah. Singing's not her talent,” said Rainbow Dash. “But I admire her bravery. Going on stage like that, singing that song, wearing that atrocious fashion from back when I was twelve. She has guts.”
“Like you?” said Open Book.
“Better than me,” said Rainbow Dash. “And you can tell her that.”
“Hey, Scootaloo,” said Apple Bloom, spying her pegasus friend near the schoolyard. “Whatchya doin'?”
“Looking for Rainbow Dash. I heard she came to the school!” said Scootaloo.
“Why would she do that?” asked Apple Bloom.
“I don't know,” admitted Scootaloo.
“Hey, that reminds me, Applejack came by the school earlier, too,” said Apple Bloom.
“You think she's still here?” said Scootaloo.
“Let's find out,” said Apple Bloom.
The two fillies walked around the schoolyard, finding no sign of the two mares. As they were about to give up, Scootaloo raised a hoof. “Quiet, do you hear that?” she said.
Apple Bloom listened. “Hear what?” she whispered.
“I heard Rainbow Dash!” said Scootaloo. She looked around. “There!” she said, pointing to a window, high on the wall of the school.
Scootaloo flapped hard, rising into the air. She peeked into the window, and caught a glimpse of Rainbow Dash's distinctive mane. She flew back down quickly.
“Find out what's going on,” Scootaloo told Apple Bloom.
“How?” the earth pony filly replied.
“I'll boost you up,” Scootaloo replied.
Apple Bloom placed her forelegs against the school's wall. Scootaloo slipped under her haunches and lifted her friend up. Apple Bloom reached for the window's edge. Almost there....
“Hi girls!” What are you doing?” said Sweetie Belle.
Sweetie Belle’s interruption broke Scootaloo's concentration. Her rear leg slipped, and Apple Bloom and Scootaloo tumbled to the ground.”
“Oof! You're heavy!” said Scootaloo.
“Am not!” yelled Apple Bloom. “Ah'm just solidly built.”
“Quiet!” hissed Scootaloo.
Apple Bloom stood and staggered away. As she did so, she tripped on a vine. A branch twisted and whipped against her flank. Unfortunately, there were several overripe tomatoes on the branch. Somepony must have placed them there, since that wasn't a tomato plant. “Awww,” Apple Bloom moaned, looking at her stained coat.
“I bet that was Diamond Tiara's fault,” said Sweetie Belle. “I thought she had something planned for recess today, but then we didn't go.”
“No, it's your fault!” said Apple Bloom. “If you hadn't startled us, none of this would have happened!”
“What were you doing in the bushes anyway?” said Sweetie Belle.
“Uhhh...” the other two fillies muttered.
“Totally nothing,” lied Apple Bloom.
“Yeah, we weren't trying to listen to Rainbow Dash,” said Scootaloo, before Apple Bloom stuck a hoof over her mouth.
“Wait, why are you here?” Apple Bloom said to Sweetie Belle, hoping to change the subject.
“I have a message from my sister for Open Book,” she replied, showing off a sealed envelope.
“One last thing I’d like to talk about is something Apple Bloom mentioned,” Open Book said. “She recounted some advice you gave her, about trying a lot of things as fast as possible, to earn a cutie mark.”
Rainbow Dash thought back. “When did I say that?” she wondered. “The day she met Scootaloo!” Rainbow Dash finally remembered. The pegasus smacked her hoof against her forehead several times and said “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”
“What is it?” asked Open Book.
“I’m the reason the Crusaders don’t have their cutie marks!” she replied.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to explain what you mean,” the counselor said.
“Apple Bloom really wanted her cutie mark that day, so I said she should try a bunch of things at once,” Rainbow Dash explained. “I thought it was obvious that you should only do this in that specific circumstance. How could I not notice they’ve been doing that all this time since?”
“Don’t blame yourself,” said the counselor. A knock came from the door to the office. “I think we're done for now, Rainbow Dash,” Open Book said. He stood up and headed to the door. Opening it, he didn't see the mare he was expecting, but the unicorn filly he already met. “Good afternoon, Mr. Open Book,” the filly said politely, offering the envelope. “My sister Rarity would like to invite you for tea at the Carousel Boutique.”
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 5: Tea with Rarity
Open Book took the envelope from Sweetie Belle’s hoof and opened it. The invitation to tea was scribed with beautiful calligraphy on thick, cream-colored paper. There was a slight floral aroma on the paper.
The earth pony smiled. “I would be delighted to have tea with your sister. But I’m afraid I’ll need directions to her boutique,” he said.
“I can take you there!” Sweetie Belle volunteered.
“That’s kind of you,” Open Book said. “But I’m afraid it will be just me and your sister for tea. After you take me there, why don’t you look for your friends? They’re probably around town somewhere.”
Sweetie Belle glanced back at the counselor. If he had heard her friends’ earlier shenanigans, his face didn’t give anything away.
One of the reasons Sweetie Belle liked staying with her sister was that the walk to school didn’t take long. At the end of the short walk, she opened the door to Rarity’s shop. “Sis?” she called.
Open Book’s eyes were drawn to the elegant unicorn mare, fussing over the precise arrangement of a teapot and two teacups on a dainty table. She lifted her head and smiled. “Welcome to Carousel Boutique,” Rarity said. “You must be Open Book.”
“I am. And that must make you Miss Rarity. Allow me to thank you for the kind invitation,” Open Book said. He turned to Sweetie Belle and nodded. She departed.
“It is my pleasure,” Rarity replied. “It’s not often we get visitors from Canterlot.”
The counselor examined the fine tea set. It clearly wasn’t something used every day. “I may live in Canterlot, but I’m a simple pony,” Open Book said. “I’ve never been to the Grand Galloping Gala. You won’t find me at an embassy party or a red carpet premiere. But I do appreciate a good cup of tea.”
“As do I,” Rarity said. “It’s not often I get a chance to share a cup of tea with another pony. Sweetie Belle, the poor thing, hasn’t yet grown to appreciate tea.”
“That’s not uncommon for young ponies. Bitter flavors are an acquired taste,” Open Book commented.
Rarity poured a cup of tea for her visitor. “Cream? Sugar?” she asked.
“One sugar cube, please,” Open Book said. Rarity obliged.
Open Book stirred his tea and took a sip. Rarity had good taste in tea. He set his cup down. “As much as I’m enjoying this tea, I’m here to talk about Sweetie Belle.”
“Of course,” Rarity said. “I merely thought, why meet in some dreadfully utilitarian office, when my boutique is so much more comfortable?”
“And an excellent idea it was,” Open Book said. “Miss Cheerilee suggested I either speak to you or to your parents, and they appear to be out of town right now.”
“Oh, yes, they do enjoy their travel,” Rarity said. “Let me put it this way, Sweetie Belle has her own room here, and by now, more of her belongings are here than in her actual bedroom back home.”
“So what is Sweetie Belle like? What are her talents?” asked Open Book.
“It’s hard to say,” Rarity said. “She seems to enjoy fashion, and quite often is doing something with my cloth and accessories. So you could say she is without peer at getting underhoof. The number of times she’s interfered with my work is hard to count.”
“How is your relationship with your sister?” Open Book asked cautiously.
The unicorn’s magic enveloped the teaspoon, and she concentrated on stirring her tea. “It’s better,” Rarity finally said. “Maybe a year and a half ago, we had a bit of a falling out. It started when she tried to make breakfast, and only succeeded in burning juice and liquefying toast. Then she used some of the gems I needed for a time-sensitive order, messed up my workspace, and ruined a sweater. We both said some things that we regretted.”
“And what happened afterwards?” asked the counselor.
“First, I realized I had overreacted a bit, and then I realized it was not worth losing a sister over,” said Rarity. “I joined my sister in a little sister-sister competition that Applejack ran at her orchard, but I participated in secret. I hid under the mud, and Sweetie Belle thought the whole time she was running with Applejack.” Rarity set down the tea. “It took four spa treatments before I felt clean again, but it was worth it.”
“And things have been better since then?” asked Open Book.
“They have,” Rarity said. “Still, I do have responsibilities. I have a business to run, so I can’t spend every day with my sister. When I have a big order, I can’t have her in the shop.”
“Irrespective of any problems she caused in the past, when it comes to design, how is Sweetie Belle’s work?” Open Book asked.
Rarity took a measured sip of her tea. “Sad to say, lacking that spark, that special something seen in haute couture,” she explained.
“Is fashion the family business?” Open Book asked.
“Heavens, no,” said Rarity. “Our parents are simple Ponyvillains. You’ll never hear their names spoken amongst the elite of Canterlot high society. But they’re perfectly happy with that.”
“Your talent with fashion is apparent even to an amateur like me, Miss Rarity, but how is it related to your cutie mark?” asked the counselor, motioning to the gems on the unicorn’s flank.
“I suppose one could say my talent is merely related to gem finding, but my love of fashion was obvious to me even as a filly,” said Rarity. “My early work lacked something. It wasn’t until I discovered my first cache of gems that I saw how the intersection of gem and fabric could turn a marvelous dress idea into a stunning masterpiece. It was then when I knew I would be a fashionista.”
“If Sweetie Belle is trying to be like you, when her talents lie elsewhere, that could explain why she is having so much trouble,” said the counselor.
“Whatever do you mean? She’s out with her friends almost every day, trying to earn their cutie marks,” said Rarity.
“Do you think their efforts are likely to succeed? What were their last trips about?” Open Book queried.
“I’m not sure,” said the unicorn. “I could probably remember the last few things they’ve borrowed from me for their crusades. A handful of sapphires, a bolt of cloth, a dozen needles… these were all separate days, mind you… a ponyquin, my cat Opalescence… those poor fillies… some old dishes….”
“That sounds rather random,” Open Book interrupted. “I’m not sure if their crusades are likely to reveal their special talents.”
Open Book finished his cup of tea. “How is Sweetie Belle’s magic?” he continued, changing the subject.
“She’s working on lessons right now. She may have been a bit slow to master the basics, but I think she’ll develop normally,” Rarity explained.
Open Book wrote down some notes. Family talents and magic appeared to be dead ends for Sweetie Belle. “Do you remember the school talent show, about two years ago?” asked the counselor.
“Ah, yes, a memorable performance,” Rarity said. “If I remember correctly, Sweetie Belle worked on the costumes and the set design.” Rarity noticed the counselor looking at her expectantly. “Not her talent,” she finished.
“What do you mean?” said the counselor.
“The costumes looked like a poor imitation of a particular style that we ponies should forget ever existed. Let us never think of the hair bands from my youth. And the set fell down all around them. It’s a miracle somepony wasn’t hurt,” Rarity said.
“What did she do best that day?” said Open Book.
“She showed good humor when the audience took their attempt at a ‘wicked rock ballad’ as a joke,” Rarity said. “And speaking of that, I later learned that Sweetie Belle wrote most of the song herself.”
“Perhaps her talent lies in writing? Or music?” offered the counselor.
Rarity’s eye twitched as she remembered her sister’s past writing efforts for the school newspaper. She took another sip of tea to calm her nerves. “I’m not particularly familiar with her musical talents. She takes piano lessons at home, but there’s no room for a piano here. And she has a nice singing voice,” Rarity said.
“Did she pursue music after the talent show?” asked Open Book.
“Well, the Cutie Mark Crusaders won the talent show’s award for best comedy act,” said Rarity. “Even though they knew they weren’t trying to be funny, they attempted some legitimate comedy performances afterwards. They were not successful. But no, I don’t think my sister incorporated music into any of those performances. Then they were off to whatever dangerous adventure attracted their attention next.”
Open Book took some final notes. “I think that’s all the questions I have for now,” he said.
“Would you care for another cup of tea?” Rarity asked.
“I would love another cup of tea,” Open Book said.
As Rarity poured, she asked, “Where are you staying while in Ponyville?”
“I’m staying with the town librarian, Miss Twilight Sparkle. Miss Cheerilee said she insisted on hosting me,” Open Book explained. “And I think I’d like to talk to her too.”
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 6: Twilight at Twilight
Open Book was glad to be staying in the spare room of Ponyville’s library. Not only did the accommodations not strain his budget, but it offered him plenty to read and an intelligent mare to talk with.
Yet there was something curiously missing from his previous conversations with Twilight Sparkle. Now, not talking much on his first night in Ponyville was expected. Open Book had spent much of the evening speaking with Cheerilee, and arranging the meetings with the adults he had just finished interviewing, so Twilight Sparkle had little time to do anything but show him his room and help him find a book to read before retiring that evening. The previous night, however, he had spoken extensively with Twilight Sparkle. They had reminisced about Canterlot, speaking of favorite haunts, street vendors, parades, and all the differences between life in Ponyville and life in the capital.
Yet they didn’t talk about a rather important topic. “We didn’t speak one word about the Cutie Mark Crusaders,” Open Book realized. The unicorn was obviously friendly with the three fillies. It was time to get her insight.
“Welcome back,” Twilight Sparkle said as Open Book returned to the library. “How was your day?” she asked.
“It was quite informative,” the counselor replied. “Tomorrow, I’m going to speak to each filly individually, and what I learned from their friends and family will help me understand what’s stopping each of them from uncovering their talents.”
“That’s good to hear,” Twilight Sparkle responded. “Now, have you given any thought to dinner? I have several restaurants I could recommend.”
“I just had tea with Rarity, so I’ll start thinking about dinner later,” Open Book said. “That gives me time to talk to you about the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Do you have a few minutes?”
Twilight Sparkle looked mildly surprised. “Me? But I don’t know them all that well,” she said.
Open Book considered the unicorn. “The day I arrived in town, they were outside the library. You helped them find the trampoline, right?” Open Book said.
“Yes,” Twilight Sparkle admitted, “but… I don’t want to get in the way of your work.”
“Nonsense,” said the counselor. “I have a feeling there’s something that, deep down, you want to tell me. You’d only help me if you talked to me about these three fillies.”
Twilight Sparkle sat down on the couch. “It’s just that… I don’t know if they’ve learned the most important lesson yet,” she said.
Open Book took a seat in a comfortable chair opposite the couch and pulled out his notepad. “And what would that be?” he asked.
“’Try doing things you’re already good at.’ Everypony knows that, right? I’ve reminded them of that fact twenty-two times,” Twilight Sparkle said.
Open Book raised an eyebrow. “Twenty-two? You know the exact count? Do you have an eidetic memory, Miss Twilight Sparkle?”
Twilight Sparkle laughed nervously. “Oh, nothing like that,” she said. “It’s just that I remember giving them that advice after their performance in the school talent show. Then I added a monthly reminder to my schedule to talk to the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and every time, I’ve reminded them. Twenty-one months have passed, so that’s twenty-two times.”
“That’s… a remarkable level of organization,” the counselor said. “Your advice is sound, Miss Twilight Sparkle. How have the fillies taken that advice?”
The unicorn scratched her chin with her hoof. “They haven’t taken it to heart,” she admitted. “When their serious musical performance won an award for best comedy performance, that’s when I first suggested they focus on what they’re already good at. But instead, they tried their hoof at comedy. All sorts of comedy. Stand-up comedy, marionettes, ventriloquism, mime—I still don’t think Rarity has forgiven Sweetie Belle for taking all her white powder makeup—comedic theater, you name it.”
“From what I’ve heard from everypony I’ve talked with, that’s normal behavior for the Cutie Mark Crusaders,” Open Book said. He paused before continuing. “Do you think they were unaware of the difference between deliberate comedy and accidental comedy?”
“That’s a much nicer way of saying it than I was thinking,” Twilight Sparkle said. “That the ponies were laughing at them, not with them. When I was their age, I may not have noticed, but no one is as big a dork as I was as a filly.”
“I’m afraid I’m seeing a pattern of avoidance behavior, like they’re using all this crusading to avoid doing what they must,” Open Book said. “You seem to have noticed, too. Yet you found them a trampoline, right?”
“I conjured it with a spell,” Twilight Sparkle clarified.
“You helped them even though you suspect it won’t help them earn their cutie marks?” said Open Book.
“Well, I’m willing to help anypony in need, even if it’s just going to end up a fun activity for the afternoon.” Twilight Sparkle paused. “Oh, no, am I an enabler?” she wondered.
“Miss Twilight Sparkle, have you been reading any books on psychology?” asked Open Book.
“Yes,” she replied. “I always feel that being conversant in….”
“Don’t.”
Twilight Sparkle reacted to the counselor as if he had asked her to divide by zero. Her mind was trapped examining something so profoundly illogical—reading was the wrong thing to do?”
Open Book tapped his notepad against the side of his chair, snapping Twilight Sparkle to attention. “What I mean is that when a pony reads a book on psychology, she immediately starts diagnosing herself with any number of conditions,” he explained. “Or worse, diagnosing her friends. I’m thrilled you’ve taken an interest in my field. Just don’t overreact.”
“I see,” said Twilight Sparkle.
“For the record, I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong. Had you not helped the fillies two days ago, they wouldn’t have gone and practiced their strongest talents. I think it’s admirable that everypony in town has helped them develop a strong friendship,” said the counselor.
“I’m hearing a but coming,” Twilight Sparkle commented.
“But the very strength of their friendship is hurting their own ability to overcome whatever’s stopping them from uncovering their talents,” said Open Book.
“What is it?” asked Twilight Sparkle.
“I don’t know,” Open Book admitted. “I hope to find out when I speak to each of them, individually, tomorrow. I have some ideas, but… I’ll need a few unusual supplies before the morning.”
“Go on,” said Twilight Sparkle, curious.
“Some boards, a hammer, nails, a saw… normal woodworking equipment,” the counselor said.
“I have some boards here—we have a few more windows break than normal thanks to a certain pegasus’ aerial maneuvers—but I’ll have to take you to the hardware store for the rest,” said the unicorn.
“A book or two of poetry, and another about music,” Open Book continued.
“You’re in the right place for that,” said Twilight Sparkle.
“A one-pony cart. One that’s not in good condition.” Twilight Sparkle looked ready to interject, but Open Book quickly continued, “Trust me.”
“I think I know where to go,” said Twilight Sparkle.
“And finally, something more personal,” said Open Book. “There are several ponies I helped in my youth. I have a feeling some of their tales are particularly relevant to the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Yet my memories have faded with the years. I’m now the one who needs help. Do you know any spells that can help me remember?”
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 7: Apple Bloom
Apple Bloom trotted along the dirt road leading from Sweet Apple Acres to Ponyville proper. It was a beautiful morning, and the yellow filly always found the walk to be invigorating, even when the weather was not as beautiful. The only thing Apple Bloom found wrong with morning is that she wasn’t sharing it with her two best friends. “It’s too bad Scootaloo and especially Sweetie Belle don’t appreciate the morning,” she thought. Why, she had already done an hour’s worth of chores and had a good breakfast with her family before they even woke up!
The walk to school was typically uneventful, with only a few adult ponies active in town at this hour. Apple Bloom could normally count on seeing Thatch the street sweeper, Newsy at the Ponyville Newsstand, and Perky, selling coffee from her cart. What was not normal was seeing a familiar pony in a bit of trouble. “Howdy, Mr. Open Book!” Apple Bloom called.
The older earth pony was staring unproductively at a broken one-pony cart. Its contents, most noticeably a pair of simple wooden ramps, had already been removed, and the cart itself turned on its side. “Good morning, Apple Bloom,” he said.
“What’s wrong, mister?” Apple Bloom asked.
“It looks like the axle snapped, and I’m not sure how to fix it,” he replied. “That’s the last time I rent a used cart from a salespony who feels the need to append “Honest” to his name.”
“’Honest’ Ollie Ox?” the filly asked.
Open Book nodded. “He really wanted me to buy this cart, even though I only needed it for today,” he said. “Now I see why.”
“Ah see why mah sister won’t do business with him,” the filly said. She took a closer look at the broken axle. “Yep, that’s gonna have to get replaced,” she assessed. Apple Bloom looked at the scraps of wood and tools amidst the cart’s contents. “But maybe Ah could get it workin’ for just today.”
Open Book watched as the filly worked scrap wood, nails, and twine into a rough brace for the axle, something like setting a broken leg. The result wasn’t pretty, and it certainly wasn’t a permanent fix, but it looked like it would last at least long enough to get to school. Once Apple Bloom finished her repairs, he carefully righted the cart, and tested the wheels. The axle held.
“Apple Bloom, would you keep an eye on the axle as I load the cart again?” Open Book asked. “Do keep clear, though,” he warned.
“Gotcha,” the filly replied.
Open Book gently loaded the cart. He didn’t hear anything that sounded like wood snapping, which he took for a good sign. Glancing back at the filly, he saw her nodding approvingly. He finally hitched himself to the cart, and gave a pull. Everything worked.
“I can’t thank you enough, Apple Bloom,” Open Book said.
“It was nothin’,” Apple Bloom replied. The two earth ponies walked in silence for a minute. “Say, what are you doin’ out here so early?” Apple Bloom then asked.
“Why, I’m going to school, just like you,” the counselor said.
“Whaaa?” said Apple Bloom.
“Today, I’m going to speak to your class about the different educational institutions in Canterlot,” Open Book explained. “And after class, I’ll be around to talk, if you have any further questions.”
“But Ah thought you were goin’ to…” Apple Bloom said.
“Yes, I’ll be talking to you at 4 PM, and your friends later,” Open Book interrupted. “But if anypony asks, you can tell them we were talking about Royal Canterlot University.”
“But… but that’s not honest,” Apple Bloom said.
“How will you know for sure what you talked about before you actually talk to me?” Open Book offered. A look of recognition crossed Apple Bloom’s face, and she smiled. “This little lecture is something I like to do when I meet with fillies like you, since most fillies won’t want to say they spoke to a counselor about personal matters.”
“Ah get it,” Apple Bloom said, “but Ah still don’t want to be dishonest.”
“I encourage you to speak openly to your sister and brother,” Open Book said. “They’re your family, and they’re the best ponies for helping you with your problems. Now, if you happen to be speaking with that filly who wears a tiara, you probably want to say something else.”
“Ah know what Ah really want to say to her,” Apple Bloom said, raising a forehoof.
Apple Bloom and Open Book soon arrived at the schoolhouse, the cart surviving the trip. “I’m going to store these items in the office,” the counselor said.
“You don’t need that stuff for class?” said Apple Bloom.
“No, it’s all for you three,” Open Book answered.
“Ah bet those ramps are for Scootaloo and her scooter!” Apple Bloom said.
“That’s right,” Open Book said.
“Ah think you need another piece of wood runnin’ down the underside of those ramps,” Apple Bloom suggested. “If those ramps break, then Scootaloo could get hurt, and Ah don’t want that to happen.”
“I thank you for the warning, Apple Bloom,” Open Book said. “I’ll be sure to fix it.”
Apple Bloom took her usual seat once she arrived at the classroom. The students talked quietly with each other while they waited for class to start. Finally, the bell rang, and Cheerilee stepped inside. “Good morning, class!” she announced cheerily.
“Good morning, Miss Cheerilee,” the class replied in unison.
“Now, class, before we get to today’s math lesson, I have a special treat for you. We have a visitor, all the way from Canterlot.” Cheerilee smiled as the students whispered excitedly. “He’s going to talk to you about all the school options for older ponies in Canterlot. Now, please welcome Open Book.”
The door opened, and the familiar earth pony walked into the room. Apple Bloom tried to make it look like she was seeing him for the first time. She glanced over at her friends, who appeared to be attempting the same thing.
“Thank you, Miss Cheerilee,” Open Book said. “Now, I normally start by telling you about Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. But I suppose you’ve heard all about it already, with a very famous alumna serving as Ponyville’s librarian.” The foals in the class chuckled. “But did you know there’s an entirely different school for older unicorns? After all, the unicorns in the Royal Guard need to learn somewhere!”
Over the next hour, Open Book talked about the guard academies for unicorns and pegasi, the military academy favored by earth ponies, and finally, Royal Canterlot University. The way he talked, the university was like twenty different schools in one! Any number of ponies in Ponyville studied there before becoming the town’s doctors, dentists, nurses, and engineers.
“And if anypony wants to talk to me about their future educational pursuits, I’ll be around during lunch and after school,” Open Book said. “Just come by the spare office next to the principal’s office.”
“Thank you, Open Book,” Cheerilee said. Turning to the class, she said, “Why don’t you all thank Mr. Open Book?” The ponies stomped their hooves in applause.
The older earth pony nodded, and then departed. Cheerilee turned to the class once again. “Now, take out your math textbooks,” she said. A chorus of groans greeted her request.
After school, Apple Bloom walked around the playground. She had an hour to kill before her scheduled appointment with the counselor. The seesaw and swings held no attraction to her this afternoon. Nor did she particularly want to talk to her friends. Apple Bloom sat quietly on the grass. She couldn’t help but be reminded of her failure. She was here, waiting for her appointment, only because she was a blank flank.
Once the position of Celestia’s sun indicated about an hour had passed, she walked into the school. Nervously, she proceeded to the back of the schoolhouse, to the office where Open Book waited. The door was closed. She raised her hoof, steeled her nerves, and knocked.
“Please come in,” the counselor said.
Apple Bloom stepped into the familiar cluttered office. Open Book was sitting in his same chair, his notepad at ready. The filly closed the door behind her, and took a seat.
“Did you have any questions about my lecture?” Open Book asked.
“No, not really,” Apple Bloom replied. “But Ah did wonder, did anypony else come talk to you?”
“A few students,” Open Book said. “Mostly students with fathers serving in the Royal Guard. I think they were interested in a different pony’s perspective on the military academies.”
“Well, Ah guess that’s good,” Apple Bloom said.
“Now that you’ve talked to me about schools in Canterlot, let’s talk about you,” Open Book said.
“Okay,” said the earth pony filly.
“Let’s start with a visualization exercise,” said Open Book. “It’s a year later. You have your cutie mark. It doesn’t matter what it is. What are you doing right now?”
Apple Bloom thought for a moment. “Ah guess Ah’m working at Sweet Apple Acres. Ah’m probably big enough to help with the apple buckin’,” she said.
“What if the symbol on your flank isn’t an apple?” the counselor continued.
“Not an apple? That’s crazy talk,” Apple Bloom said.
“This is just an exercise. If it helps, imagine this is a ‘what if’ scenario, like something out of fiction,” said Open Book.
“Well, Ah still think Ah’ll be helpin’ around the farm. Ah won’t be old enough to be on my own,” said Apple Bloom. “Then Ah guess Ah’d be spendin’ the rest of my time workin’ on my talent.”
“That’s a very mature attitude, Apple Bloom,” Open Book said. “Not every pony recognizes that becoming an adult doesn’t depend on earning one’s cutie mark. It’s a natural consequence of growing older.”
“But if Ah’m so mature, why don’t Ah have my cutie mark?” asked Apple Bloom.
“That’s ultimately for you to discover,” Open Book said. “Right now, I think there’s some kind of psychological block.”
“Cycle-what now?” said Apple Bloom.
“Psychological. In the mind,” explained Open Book. “I think I see evidence in the way you’re going about trying to find your cutie mark. Do you remember the advice that other ponies gave you?” he asked.
“Do lots of things as fast as possible! You’re sure to discover your talents!” said Apple Bloom.
“And?” said Open Book.
“And it hasn’t worked yet?” Apple Bloom offered.
“I was looking to hear some of the other advice you’ve received,” said the counselor.
Apple Bloom stared at Open Book.
“I believe Miss Twilight Sparkle gave you this advice, and I’m sure others have told it to you as well,” said Open Book.
“Do things you’re already good at? But that doesn’t help me at all!” Apple Bloom complained.
Open Book shook his head. “Perhaps it would be best if I told you a story from my youth.”
The weather in Canterlot was arguably at its finest in the early fall. The mugginess of late summer had finally cleared. Celestia’s sun cast its rays upon the alicorn’s beloved subjects, warming their coats. The breezes organized by the pegasi brought the promise of cooler weather with every gust. It was a remarkable meteorological balance, one many ponies in Canterlot took advantage of each weekend.
Two young ponies walked up the hills surrounding Canterlot, rising even higher than the capital city’s lofty elevation. Tall grasses, yellowed after the heat of summer, crunched underhoof. By necessity, the brown earth pony colt walked in silence, a picnic basket’s handle clenched in his teeth. The silver unicorn filly carried her own picnic basket in a pale pink magical aura.
“Awww,” said Apple Bloom. “Was she your special somepony?”
Open Book gazed out the window and sighed wistfully. “I’ll never know. As talented as I am in understanding the hearts of others, my own has quite often remained a mystery to me,” he explained. Setting the memory of potential lost love aside, he said, “Let me continue.”
Reaching a level area, the earth pony caught his friend’s attention, and motioned to the ground. A blanket drifted out of the unicorn’s basket and spread itself on the ground. The two ponies set down their baskets and pulled out sandwiches, vegetable sticks, and bottles of apple juice. There was a break in the trees here. From where the two ponies sat, they had a stunning view of Canterlot, centered on the tallest spire of the royal castle.
“This is a beautiful sight, Open Book,” the unicorn said.
“I thought you’d like it, Silver Shine,” the earth pony replied.
“I don’t know about you, but that hike made me famished!” Silver Shine said.
Open Book could only agree with his companion’s assessment, so he took a bite of his sandwich. Sweet daisies and bitter greens played over his taste buds.
The peaceful meal temporarily took the filly’s mind off her still blank flank. Being with the only other student in her class lacking a cutie mark helped. But as they finished their meal, her worries returned.
“There’s something I want you to see. Something very beautiful,” Open Book said. He pointed to the distant castle. As Celestia’s sun rose directly overhead, its rays fell upon a crystal atop the lofty spire. Light in all colors of the rainbow spread across Canterlot, dancing magically over the whitewashed walls and tiled roofs of the city.
“It is… it is…” Silver Shine said, failing to bring her feelings into a verbal form.
“Words failed me when I saw this beautiful sight for the first time,” Open Book said. As if on cue, the slight movement of the sun caused the rainbow to disappear.
Silver Shine continued to gaze out over Canterlot. When she turned back, she found that Open Book had pulled something else out of his picnic basket. A canvas, paints, and paintbrushes rested on the blanket. “Would you like to preserve that beauty, and allow others to experience it?” the earth pony said to her.
Silver Shine nodded, feeling inspired by the sight. Most ponies knew the unicorn painted in her spare time, and she had received many compliments for her work. She wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. Silver Shine took the easel from Open Book’s picnic basket and set it up, resting the blank canvas on it. With several quick magical movements, she covered a palette with paint and grasped a paintbrush in her telekinetic aura. With bold strokes, she outlined the towers of the castle.
Open Book raised his head as Silver Shine’s movements slowed. “Open Book, I don’t know if I should be…” she started.
“Please, just paint,” Open Book interrupted. “Think only of the image, the beauty. Talk only when you’re happy with your painting.”
Silver Shine nodded and returned to her art. The gentle breeze and the strokes of the unicorn’s paintbrush were the only sounds heard. Open Book stretched out on the blanket, enjoying the sun’s warmth. With a quiet day and a full stomach, he enjoyed a nice afternoon nap.
When Open Book awoke, Silver Shine was still working on her painting. The proud royal castle dominated the canvas. The unicorn was working a wash of rainbow colors into the whites and grays of the walls. The earth pony smiled as he saw not a trace of worry on his friend’s face.
An hour later, Silver Shine finally set down the palette and studied her work. Open Book was impressed by the young artist’s ability to capture the interplay of light and shadow, all with little more than basic art instruction. “Does this work make you happy?” he asked her.
“Yes,” Silver Shine responded.
“Do you want everypony to see it?” Open Book asked.
Silver Shine paused. “My parents…” she said.
Her mother was a magical instructor. Her father was an engineer. Solid and traditional unicorn occupations, just like their parents before them. And their parents’ parents. “Your parents love you. They will support you, no matter what your talent turns out to be,” Open Book said reassuringly.
“But I don’t want to disappoint them,” the unicorn said.
“Why are you convinced they will be disappointed?” Open Book said. “Was it something they told you?”
“No. They keep telling me that they’ll be happy, no matter what my special talent is,” Silver Shine said.
“Do you think they’re lying to you?” Open Book wondered.
“No!” she responded defensively. That’s what she told everypony. But why couldn’t she believe it herself?
“Let’s go home,” Open Book urged. “I’ll help carry your beautiful painting home.”
With the painting carefully tied to his back, Open Book led the way down from the hills. He made sure the painting was always in Silver Shine’s view. By the time they reached the streets of Canterlot, a paintbrush and palette had appeared on Silver Shine’s flank.
Open Book escorted Silver Shine home. Her parents greeted her warmly. He dropped off her painting and waved goodbye. By the time he reached his own home, the image of an open book was on his own flank.
“Silver Shine is a well-respected painter today, with paintings in museums and even the Royal Castle,” explained Open Book.
“That’s a nice story,” Apple Bloom said. “But why are you tellin’ it to me?”
“Silver Shine’s talent was different from her family’s talent. But they loved her and supported her all the same,” Open Book explained. “Your brother and sister will support you, even if your talent is not related to your family’s orchard.”
“But Ah don’t even know what my talent is!” Apple Bloom complained. “That’s why Ah’m here!”
“Did anypony teach you how to fix a broken cart? Or repair a clubhouse?” asked Open Book.
“No,” said Apple Bloom.
“Have you ever built a wooden ramp before?” he continued.
“No,” Apple Bloom said again.
“Building and fixing things is a very useful talent,” Open Book said. “That talent was obvious to me this morning. Your sister noticed it too. Why haven’t you focused on that?”
Apple Bloom looked away. “Ah… Ah don’t want to,” she admitted.
“I’m sorry?” said Open Book.
“Ah said Ah don’t want to!” Apple Bloom bawled. “Sweet Apple Acres is as old as Ponyville. Everything’s old! If that’s mah special talent, Ah’ll never have a free moment ever!”
Open Book regarded the filly, who still wouldn’t look him in the eye. He heard her sniff. Was she crying? He sighed. He was sure he was on the verge of Apple Bloom breaking through her barrier. But this reaction was not what he expected.
The counselor checked the clock. He had a few more minutes before Sweetie Belle’s appointment. But he wasn’t going to be able to help Apple Bloom any further.
“I think we’ll need to talk again,” said Open Book.
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 8: Sweetie Belle
With Apple Bloom refusing to talk further, Open Book ended his counseling session early. He dismissed the filly, and kept an eye on her as she left the school. Confident she wasn’t going to get in trouble on her own, he returned to his office.
A knock indicated that the unicorn filly had arrived punctually. “Come in,” the counselor said.
“Hello again, Mr. Open Book,” Sweetie Belle said. She perched on a bench and looked expectantly at the earth pony.
“I hope you’ve had a chance to think about what we talked about two days ago,” Open Book said. “I’d like to start with a visualization exercise. Picture yourself one year from now. You’ve earned your cutie mark; it doesn’t matter what it is. What are you doing right now?”
Sweetie Belle thought. “I can’t give you an answer until I know what my cutie mark is!” she said.
“Are you sure?” asked Open Book.
“Very sure,” Sweetie Belle replied. “Like, if my talent is in fashion or gems, I’m probably with my sister. But if it’s something else, I’m with my parents. Or if it’s a talent I can’t pursue in Ponyville, I could be somewhere else entirely.”
“That’s well thought out, though a bit specific,” Open Book said. “What talents couldn’t you pursue in Ponyville?” he asked.
“You know, like you said today. There’s no medical school in Ponyville, so what if my special talent is medicine?” Sweetie Belle explained.
Open Book talked mostly about educational opportunities for ponies after they graduated from their local school. He suspected Sweetie Belle actually had something else in mind when she made that comment, something she could practice at her age. He tapped his notepad and waited to see if the filly would elaborate. When she didn’t, he tried a different approach.
“There’s a story I remember from my youth, back when we all were concerned as you about finding our special talents,” Open Book said. “But strangely, the pony who wanted my help already had his cutie mark.”
Long Quill, an aquamarine earth pony colt, shuffled nervously on his hooves. He really didn’t want to be here, but he needed help, and this classmate he didn’t know well had helped one of his friends discover his special talent.
Open Book noticed the awkward colt standing by him when he turned to pick up his saddlebags. “What’s up, Long Quill?” he asked.
“Could we walk somewhere?” Long Quill asked. “I have a favor to ask, and I hope you’ll be willing to help me.”
The brown earth pony colt assessed his classmate. He wasn’t really a close friend, but Open Book got along well enough with Long Quill. Open Book had helped two classmates uncover their special talents, but noticing Long Quill’s quill and inkpot cutie mark, that couldn’t be why he needed help. Still, it just felt right to help. “Okay,” he replied. “Where to?”
“Let’s just walk,” Long Quill replied.
The aquamarine pony glanced around as they walked away from their school, down one of the busy streets of Canterlot. Open Book noticed his classmate held his tongue until the last of their classmates left their sight.
“I need your help to speak to Sunset,” Long Quill finally admitted.
“Are you sure you’re talking to the right colt?” Open Book asked.
“I know it isn’t the kind of help you’re used to doing, but I need somepony to keep me from chickening out. And if it doesn’t work, you can give me honest feedback,” Long Quill explained.
“It sounds like you’re expecting it won’t work. Why is that?” Open Book wondered.
“Look, I have some doubts, but what I’m planning has to be personal,” Long Quill said. “Meet me tomorrow outside this café, a half hour before sunset, if you’re willing to help me.”
Open Book nodded. “I’ll help as best I can.”
The next evening, Open Book met Long Quill at the designated location. The aquamarine pony had slicked back his violet mane and wore a bowtie around his neck. Those changes made his everyday saddlebags look out of place. Long Quill took a deep breath to steady himself.
“Now will you tell me what your plan is?” said Open Book.
“This evening, when Celestia raises the moon, I will pour out my heart to Sunset, with the poetry I wrote for her,” Long Quill said.
Open Book facehoofed. This would not end well. While his classmate did have a cutie mark common to writers, and came from a family with a talent for writing, even a pony with a gift for writing tends to wince when reading what he wrote during his foalhood.
“Do you want any advice on what you wrote?” Open Book asked.
“No!” Long Quill replied, a bit too quickly. “I have to do this myself. And you have to make sure I do this.”
“Okay,” Open Book said. They walked to the house where Sunset lived with her parents, Long Quill constantly checking his saddlebags to make sure his writing was still there. Once they arrived, the two earth ponies hid in the bushes, waiting for Celestia to lower the sun and raise the moon.
“That is so corny,” Sweetie Belle interrupted. “It sounds like something from those books my sister reads and doesn’t want me to see.”
“Hush, Sweetie Belle,” Open Book chided. “That was considered the epitome of gentlestallionly behavior when I was your age,” he explained. “Now let’s get back to the story.”
A beautiful full moon illuminated the Canterlot night, the Mare in the Moon present as always. Long Quill gave his poetry a final review, and then stepped out of the bushes. The light shining from Sunset’s second story window suggested she was inside. He exhaled slowly, steadying his nerves. “I can do this,” he thought.
Grabbing a pebble, Long Quill tossed it at Sunset’s window. It clattered off the glass. Ten seconds later, he tossed a second pebble. A confused-looking orange pegasus filly opened the window and checked the sky. Finally, she looked down, and saw Long Quill standing there.
Long Quill smiled as he gazed upon the cute filly. Her yellow mane, looking so effortlessly wind-tousled. The orange coat that darkened to red near her hooves and muzzle, much like her namesake. That charming smile.
“Dear Sunset, I have come to you under the rising moon to say to you these words, from my heart,” started Long Quill.
From his vantage point in the bushes, Open Book watched his classmate face his fears. He smiled as he recited his poetry. By the tenth word, that smile was gone, replaced by an expression that combined pain and disgust. This had to be the worst poetry anypony had ever written.
Open Book chanced a peek through the branches. Sunset’s own face reflected shock and confusion. When Long Quill finished his poetry reading, Sunset took a while to recover her senses. Finally, she spoke. “Thank you, Long Quill. But… ahh… I guess all I can say is that I like you more than I like your poetry.” Both earth ponies tried to figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“I think I hear my parents. You better get out of here!” Sunset warned.
“So what happened after that?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“Well, we took off,” Open Book said. “I gave him my honest feedback on his poetry.”
“No, what happened with Long Quill and Sunset?” Sweetie Belle clarified. She smiled, visions of romantic young love filling her head.
“It was just a foalhood crush. Nothing permanent came of it, but they remained friends until Sunset went off to flight school and then the Academy,” the earth pony replied. “But there’s something important to learn from this story.”
The next day, Long Quill invited Open Book over to his house. “Is this about Sunset?” Open Book asked.
“No, I’m worried about something else,” Long Quill admitted. “Well, I am worried that I ruined things with Sunset, but there’s something else. Could you take a look at more of my writing?”
Open Book shrugged. “I guess, but wouldn’t your parents be the better ponies to talk to?” he said.
“No, they…. Look. I think I just need to show you,” Long Quill said.
The two ponies headed to Long Quill’s house, and into his bedroom. It looked typical for a young colt’s room, except for the fine writing desk in the corner. Books and papers cluttered the desk, and a nearby wastebasket was filled with the results of many failed writing endeavors.
“Could I ask you for your honest opinion on some writing?” Long Quill asked.
Open Book nodded. Long Quill passed him a variety of written works. There were several short stories, a sonnet, the opening act of a play, and some more experimental works. Long Quill rubbed his hooves together nervously as Open Book read. Once Open Book set the papers aside, Long Quill asked, “What do you think?”
“You asked for my honest opinion, so here it is. It’s better than your poetry from last night, but overall, nothing here catches my interest,” Open Book said.
“That was what I was afraid of,” Long Quill said. “Do you think I have the wrong cutie mark?”
“I don’t think that happens,” Open Book said. “Will you tell me how you earned your cutie mark?”
“It started with the annual Young Writers competition last year,” Long Quill began. “Mom and Dad have always encouraged me to write, so they suggested I try my hoof at writing a short story. So I did. I wrote it, revised it, and carefully scribed it on some of Mom’s good paper. When I brought down the envelope with my submission, Dad pointed to my flank. I had been so intent on my writing, I didn’t even notice that I got my cutie mark!”
“And you won the competition?” Open Book asked.
“That’s just it. You’d think that discovering my special talent would result in winning first place with my story, but I didn’t win. I didn’t get third place, or honorable mention, or even a best in my age group award. I got nothing,” Long Quill said. “So I’ve been trying all kinds of writing, but nothing has been successful!” he continued. “Every time I fail, I grow more and more worried.”
Open Book thought about his classmate’s story. He glanced back at the sonnet. “Would you try writing something right now?” Open Book suggested.
“Write what? I need an idea,” Long Quill said.
Open Book searched his mind for an idea. “Why don’t you try writing from the perspective of a filly who just received a moonlight confession from the colt she loves?”
Long Quill considered the idea. Open Book was afraid his suggestion might rub Long Quill the wrong way, but the aquamarine colt got to work. He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and centered it on the desk’s writing surface. He plucked a fresh quill from the drawer and chewed it, ideas running through the colt’s head. After a moment, he dipped the quill in the inkpot and started to write.
Open Book watched as Long Quill wrote. The quill in his mouth scribed elegant cursive script on the page. He would write a sentence or two, and then scratch out some words or a phrase, making edits as he went.
“You write with a quill?” Open Book said.
Long Quill returned the quill to the inkpot. “Yeah, of course,” he said.
“How? I mean, I find a quill too thin and flexible to use,” Open Book said. “I’ve always written with a pencil. Come to think of it, I can’t remember seeing anyone but a unicorn use a quill.”
“I’ve never thought about how,” Long Quill admitted. “I guess it’s just a matter of applying the right pressure.”
“What if your talent isn’t what you write, but how you write?” Open Book said.
“What do you mean?” Long Quill asked.
“Pass me a quill, and I’ll demonstrate,” Open Book responded.
Long Quill placed a clean sheet of paper on the desk. He mouthed over a quill, and stepped back. Open Book stepped up to the desk and sat down. He dipped the quill into the inkpot, and wrote a sentence.
The brown earth pony rested the quill in the inkpot. “Take a look at this,” he said.
Long Quill looked at the paper. Was that was supposed to be writing? Some of the marks were vaguely letter-shaped, but either misshapen or incomplete. Further, spatters of ink marred the page. “What is it?” he finally asked.
“It says, ‘This is a sentence written by Open Book, using a quill.’” Open Book said. “I suspect most earth ponies and pegasi write like this when holding a quill. But you write beautifully. One might say it’s a talent.”
“It turns out his talent was calligraphy, not composition. Today, if you’re invited to a high society party in Canterlot, your invitation was probably written by Long Quill,” Open Book told Sweetie Belle. “Now, do you have any questions?”
“Yeah, how come you didn’t repeat Long Quill’s poetry when you told me that story?” asked Sweetie Belle. “Can’t you remember it?”
Open Book pulled out two sheets of paper. “Thanks to your town librarian, I was able to recall every horrid stanza”, he said. “Are you really sure you want to read it? I wasn’t exaggerating when I said it was bad.”
“I’ve dealt with bad before,” Sweetie Belle said. “Let’s see it.”
Open Book passed her the papers. He turned and picked up the books he borrowed from the library. “If it will help, I borrowed some books of poetry from the library….” Open Book trailed off as he saw Sweetie Belle deeply immersed in the colt’s poetry.
“’An angel with a coat of orange / I look at you and would never cringe’? Seriously? Didn’t his writer parents ever teach him about synonyms? Or metaphors? Or even reordering words? I never thought I’d see worse than digestia.” As Sweetie Belle complained, the pencil clutched in her magical aura scratched replacement words on the paper.
“’The sky’s warm glow at end of day could never be / more pretty than the one I see who flies o’er me,’” Open Book read over Sweetie Belle’s shoulder. Her quick editing bypassed the colt’s poor attempt to find a rhyme for the word orange. But she also changed the meter and just made it sound more poetic. After another five minutes, she had boiled down two pages of adolescent dreck into a tight eight lines of poetry.
“That’s a remarkable improvement for such a short time,” Open Book commented. “Why did you choose to change the meter like that?” he asked.
“I was picturing the words as part of a song,” Sweetie Belle replied.
“Would you mind singing it?” said Open Book.
Sweetie Belle closed her eyes and began to sing, her sweet voice filling the small room. Open Book recognized the tune, To Celestia In Heaven, a notoriously difficult song to sing. He held his breath as she reached the high notes in the middle of the song. The unicorn filly nailed it, her voice losing none of its clarity over the song’s one and a half octave range.
“That was beautiful,” Open Book said. “Have you thought about trying your hoof at singing?”
“Oh, I couldn’t get on stage like that,” Sweetie Belle said. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“There are other things you could do, such as songwriting. Now, I heard you and your friends tried other kinds of performing?” Open Book said, quickly changing subjects.
“Yes, we discovered a lot of things that weren’t our talents,” Sweetie Belle said.
“Tell me all about it,” Open Book said.
“Well, we each tried stand-up comedy. None of us were good at it. We did a funny puppet play. It wasn’t very funny. I tried ventriloquism. It seems no one considers a unicorn doing ventriloquism to be noteworthy. Scootaloo thought about doing something more physical, so she tried mime. We discovered nopony likes mime,” Sweetie Belle said.
“Was it easier being on stage doing something you were bad at?” Open Book interrupted.
Sweetie Belle paused, her mouth slightly open.
“Let’s go back to what we talked about first thing today. You mentioned a talent you couldn’t pursue in Ponyville. Were you thinking about singing when you said that?” asked Open Book.
“I guess, maybe,” Sweetie Belle said reluctantly.
“You’ve obviously been thinking about singing. So why haven’t you spent more time on it?” Open Book asked.
“If that’s my talent, then I’ll have to go away. Leave my parents, leave my friends. I don’t want that,” Sweetie Belle said.
“I’m sure you know that just because you discover your talent, it doesn’t mean you have to pursue it immediately. Your parents would probably be happy for you to spend a few more years as a normal filly,” Open Book said.
“I guess,” Sweetie Belle said again.
Open Book reflected on this breakthrough. Sweetie Belle had opened up, but he realized she didn’t mention someone. “Now, what would your sister think?”
Sweetie Belle looked down. “I don’t know,” she said.
Is that what she’s worried about? Open Book thought to himself. To Sweetie Belle, he said, “Why don’t you tell me, what’s the worst thing that could happen if your talent were singing?”
“For my sister to be known the world over as Sweetie Belle’s sister,” the unicorn said.
It took a moment, but Open Book finally realized what she meant. Before he could respond, he heard a knock on the door. “Five o’clock already? My, how the time flew,” he said. “I’ll leave you with only one request, Sweetie Belle. Please have a heart-to-heart talk with your sister before you go off on your next crusade.”
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 9: Scootaloo
Open Book dismissed Sweetie Belle as he opened the door. Scootaloo studied the departing unicorn filly, as if trying to gain some insight into her own fate. But she found her friend lost in thought.
“Come in, Scootaloo,” Open Book urged. The pegasus filly entered, and sank into the room’s beanbag chair.
Scootaloo remained quiet as she shifted around. “Although that chair might feel like a cloud, you can’t hide in it, Scootaloo,” the counselor said. “So shall we begin?”
“Okay,” Scootaloo said.
“I would like to start with a visualization exercise, Scootaloo. The time is a year from now. You’ve discovered your talent and earned your cutie mark. It doesn’t matter what it is. Tell me, what are you doing now?” asked Open Book.
“I guess I’m back in Cloudsdale, living with my parents, and attending flight school,” Scootaloo replied.
“Why do you think that?” said Open Book.
“You know, it means I’m growing up, and I’m sure to be ready for it, right?” Scootaloo said.
“Are you ready for flight school?” wondered Open Book.
“No!” Scootaloo shouted. “Just look at these!” The orange pegasus flared her little wings. To the earth pony counselor, they looked small, but he was no expert on the physical development of pegasi.
“What am I looking for?” asked Open Book
“My wings! I’m still missing a dozen primaries on each wing,” Scootaloo explained. “Without them, I can’t fly for more than a few seconds, let alone fly from Cloudsdale.”
“Your wing development. Is that normal?” Open Book asked.
The filly sighed. “The doctor says it’s in the normal range. The slow end of normal. Gah! Why is everything slow for me? I want to be fast!” she said, exasperated.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a late bloomer, Scootaloo. That’s true for wings, or growth spurts, or cutie marks,” Open Book said. “And it’s not good for you to worry about the things you can’t control. You can’t control your growth.”
“But I have been working on my cutie mark! And I got nothing!” Scootaloo said.
“Do you truly want to earn your cutie mark before you’re ready to fly?” asked the counselor.
“Of course!” said Scootaloo. “Why do you keep accusing me of wanting to fail?” she accused.
“Why do you think I think you want to fail?” asked Open Book.
“Why do you think I think you think I think… wait, where am I going with this?” said Scootaloo, flustered.
“Do you want to stay in contact with Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom?” asked Open Book.
“Of course,” Scootaloo affirmed.
“Let me ask you another question, Scootaloo. How is your relationship with your parents? Do you talk to them a lot? Do they understand your concerns about growing up?” asked Open Book.
“I see them once a week or more,” she started. “They keep telling me that I’ll find my talent, and my wings will grow, and that I’ll become a good flier.”
“If you asked them to let you stay in Ponyville until you were ready to fly, a good enough flier that you could visit Ponyville anytime you want, do you think they would approve?” Open Book posed.
Scootaloo thought for a moment. “I’m sure they miss having me around all the time, but I think they would agree,” she said.
“Then you wouldn’t be separated from your friends,” Open Book commented.
Scootaloo squeezed the beanbag chair. “You’re accusing me again!” she said angrily.
“I’m only trying to help you understand your own heart,” Open Book said. “I can see the bonds of friendship you have with the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Not even leaving Ponyville for good would sever those. I believe you, Scootaloo.”
In a way, though, Scootaloo was right. If she wasn’t afraid of being separated from her friends, she was afraid of something else. He had met many young ponies who resisted, knowingly or unknowingly, pursuing their true special talents, and suspected the pegasus filly was in a similar situation. But accuse was such a negative word, even when it was true.
“I think we could use a little break here,” Open Book said. “Tell me, did you ride your scooter here?”
“Uh-huh,” Scootaloo affirmed. “It’s parked out front.”
“Why don’t you go out and get your scooter, then meet me at the back door of the school,” the counselor suggested.
“All right!” Scootaloo said enthusiastically. She stood up, stretched briefly, and then dashed out of the room.
The little filly raced out the front door and picked up her scooter. She carefully donned her helmet and adjusted the strap under her chin. Then, with a kick and the flapping of her wings, she raced around the perimeter of the school building.
Scootaloo executed a 180 degree turn, and she rapidly came to a stop, mere inches from the school’s back door. Her heart pounding, she waited. And waited. The door stayed closed.
Meanwhile, Open Book hurriedly prepared the hallway. It took longer than he hoped, but he was finally ready. He opened the door and stepped outside, closing the door behind him before Scootaloo could look inside.
“Do your teachers tell you not to run in the hallway?” asked Open Book.
“All the time,” said Scootaloo.
“What about your scooter? Can you take it inside?” he continued.
“Heck no!” Scootaloo shouted.
“Well, I have good news for you. I’m not one of your teachers. Right now, I want you to take your scooter inside, and do a complete circuit of the school’s interior hallway, as fast as you can.”
Scootaloo grinned. “Coooool,” she said. Then she frowned. “But there are steps leading up to the part of the hallway with the offices,” she noted.
Open Book opened the door. “Take a look down the left hallway,” he said.
Scootaloo looked down the hallway, which led to the offices. At the top of the stairs, a wooden ramp waited for her. Her little wings flapped excitedly.
“The course for the Ponyville Schoolhouse Grand Prix is simple, Scootaloo. Start by heading to the right, and complete a counterclockwise circuit through the hallway. When you get to the stairs up, you’ll find a ramp waiting for you. Then, when you come to the stairs down, the other ramp will give you a chance to catch a lot of air,” Open Book explained. He pulled out a stopwatch. “Ready?”
“Am I ever!” Scootaloo replied.
“Then go!” Open Book called.
The counselor’s call to start caught the pegasus filly off guard, but she kicked and flapped her wings. She buzzed down the hallway, took a left turn, and had to make a hasty adjustment in her course. A cardboard box blocked half the hallway. She sped around the box, and saw more obstacles placed in front of her: benches, potted plants, even the familiar beanbag chair. She had to brake occasionally to thread the courses’ impediments.
After two more turns, Scootaloo came to the first ramp, there to lift her up the three steps’ elevation. She lowered her head and put extra energy into her wings. The orange pegasus flew into the air and slightly altered her trajectory, planning a course around the last obstacle, a broken desk. Finally, she set her sights on the second ramp. She hit it dead center, and relished the feeling of floating. Scootaloo spun her scooter 720 degrees as she descended to the lower level. As the wheels connected with the ground, she angled her scooter and tilted her wings to make the final turn.
Scootaloo braked hard when she made it back to the counselor. “That was awesome!” she exclaimed.
Open Book looked at the stopwatch and shook his head. “One minute and twenty-two seconds? I bet Rainbow Dash could beat that time, without even opening her wings,” he observed.
“It’s not fair! You didn’t tell me about the obstacles!” Scootaloo interjected.
“Do you think you could do better?” asked Open Book.
“I know I can!” Scootaloo replied enthusiastically.
“Then go!” Open Book announced.
This time, Scootaloo had been paying attention to the counselor. Seeing him look to his stopwatch, he guessed he was going to start another race. On this occasion, she didn’t lose any time to surprise. Scootaloo kept an image of the racecourse in her mind as she drove her scooter.
Another acrobatic maneuver off the ramp, a turn, and she was back. “One minute, four seconds,” Open Book announced once the pegasus crossed the imaginary finish line.
“I bet I could break a minute,” Scootaloo said confidently.
The filly took off immediately as Open Book gave the signal to go. This time, she bypassed the final ramp entirely, content to reach the ground and make that final turn as fast as possible.
“You did it. Fifty-seven seconds,” Open Book announced. “Now we need to return these items back to where they were.”
As the two ponies worked, Open Book continued the discussion. “Which of those three races did you like the most?” he asked the filly.
“I think it was the second one,” Scootaloo decided. “I had a good plan for speed on my second and third races, but I missed showing off just to cut time off my trip.”
“Have you considered any competitions like that? Some place to show off your moves?” Open Book suggested.
“I don’t know if there are any,” Scootaloo said guardedly.
“How about practice on your own? Maybe involve your friends?” he continued.
“It, uh, never crossed my mind,” answered Scootaloo, nervously.
“Don’t you want to be awesome like Rainbow Dash?” said Open Book.
“I can’t! I can’t fly, so I can’t be awesome like Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo cried.
“Why do you like her?” Open Book asked.
“She’s the best pony! She always wins!” Scootaloo said.
“But that’s only when she’s flying, right? She’s easy-going on the ground?” Open Book wondered.
“No, she’s always competing, especially against Applejack,” Scootaloo said. She stopped pushing a box. “Oh.” The filly understood.
“You’re a brave filly, Scootaloo. You dived right into my little race, even though the school wall is a lot less forgiving than your normal tree branches. You’ve tried any number of crazy things in pursuit of your cutie mark. And you went on stage in front of all your classmates,” Open Book acknowledged. “All those things make you you, no matter whether you’re on the ground or in the air.
“Now, if I may offer one final piece of advice, the best fliers in Equestria come in two varieties. Some pegasi are natural fliers, and gain their understanding of flight through extensive practice. Others have the time to learn all the science behind flying first, because they’re not ready to fly.
“I remember helping one pegasus like that,” Open Book reminisced. “Now, I won’t mention her, or his, name, but you’ve probably seen this pegasus fly before, and fly well. If you know what you want to do, and how to do it, it becomes a lot easier to do it in the future.”
Scootaloo thought. That couldn’t be Rainbow Dash. One of her parents? No, maybe one of the Wonderbolts!
Open Book patted Scootaloo on the shoulder. “Now go out there and tear up Ponyville!”
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 10: Following Up
Open Book contemplated the day’s sessions as he hitched himself to the old cart. He really felt he reached Scootaloo, and expected the filly would find and embrace her talent. Sweetie Belle just needed to work things out with her sister; he hoped he could find Rarity before he left. And then there was Apple Bloom.
The strain of physical labor was a welcome distraction from the pain he felt knowing the earth pony filly was still struggling. He didn’t have much time left in Ponyville, but he sincerely hoped he could talk to Applejack before leaving. There was something more that needed to be discovered, and he still wasn’t sure what it was.
The walk back to the library was interrupted by a sudden burst of wind, followed by the appearance of a rainbow-maned cyan mare hovering in front of him. Open Book planted his hooves firmly into the ground, needing to prevent the cart’s inertia from pushing him into Rainbow Dash.
“So how is Scootaloo? Is she going to be awesome?” asked the pegasus.
Open Book chuckled. “I think she’s going to terrorize Ponyville until she gets her cutie mark,” he said.
Rainbow Dash looked at him quizzically. “So is that good or bad?” she asked.
“It’s good, but she’s going to need the help of an awesome pony. Are you up for that?” Open Book queried.
“Sure am!” Rainbow Dash replied confidently. “So what do I need to do?”
“A couple of things. First, make sure Scootaloo challenges herself every day,” Open Book started. “Whether a competition against another pony or trying to beat her personal best, she’ll be imitating you either way, and that’s what she needs. Second, let her know there’s more to Rainbow Dash than flying, that your own talent was not tied to your wings.”
Rainbow Dash waited for the earth pony to continue. Not willing to wait long, she said, “What else?”
“If you want her to be a great flier in the future, you need the help of somepony else. Somepony who can teach her to fly using books, and give her wings time to finish developing,” Open Book said.
“Yeah, I guess trying to get her to learn to fly like I learned to fly hasn’t helped,” Rainbow Dash admitted. “Anyway, gotta go, thanks for helping Scootaloo!” The pegasus’ hasty departure left only swirling dust and a faint rainbow trail.
The counselor’s mouth hung open, another sentence left unsaid. “I guess I’ll bring that up with Miss Twilight Sparkle,” he thought.
Open Book unhitched himself from the cart and knocked on the door to the library. Twilight Sparkle opened the door and smiled. “Welcome back, Open Book,” she said.
“Thank you, and thank you again for your kind hospitality, Miss Twilight Sparkle,” the counselor replied.
“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” the unicorn asked.
“Sorry, I’m heading home on the late train,” Open Book explained. “I stopped here to pick up my things and leave these items,” he continued, motioning to the cart. “I’m returning the books and tools. Those two ramps are for Scootaloo to keep, to practice her moves on her scooter. I wanted Miss Rainbow Dash to take them, but she departed before I could ask her. And as for the cart? Even though it’s a rental, it deserves to be turned into kindling.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Twilight Sparkle said, seconds before the axle snapped for the second time that day.
“In any case, I wish to speak to Sweetie Belle’s and Apple Bloom’s sisters before departing. I know where Miss Rarity lives, but where do you think I could find Miss Applejack at this time of day?” Open Book asked.
“Applejack is probably selling apples in the marketplace today,” Twilight Sparkle suggested. “If she’s not there, you’ll need to check the farm.”
“Thank you again, Miss Twilight Sparkle, said Open Book. “And please make sure those three fillies spend time pursuing their individual talents.”
Carousel Boutique was nearer to the library than the marketplace, and more importantly, he expected his meeting with Rarity to be shorter. Thus, he made the unusually shaped building his first stop.
Open Book pushed open the front door of the dressmaker’s shop. Small bells chimed in greeting. Rarity was making alterations to her latest fashion creation, peering intently through a pair of reading glasses as her magical aura manipulated several pins. The unicorn spared a brief glance at the door, and ceased her work as she recognized the visitor. “Welcome back,” she said. “Oh, darling, you should have let me know you were stopping by. I would have had tea prepared!”
“I apologize for the lack of notice, Miss Rarity, but I’m afraid I haven’t much time this evening,” said Open Book. “I’ve come to talk to you about your very generous sister.”
“Why, thank you,” Rarity said. “We have made it clear to the filly the importance of generosity.”
“She is so uniquely generous, she is willing to forgo earning her cutie mark for your benefit,” the counselor continued.
“Exactly… wait, what?” Rarity sputtered.
“Sweetie Belle confessed to me that she worried about finding a talent that would overshadow you,” Open Book explained. “At least that’s how I interpret it.”
“That fear is rather unfounded, I must say,” Rarity mused. “Say we imagine Sweetie Belle, world famous musician, on one hoof, and on the other hoof Rarity, Element of Generosity, savior of Equestria multiple times over, and pony immortalized in stained glass in the Royal Castle itself.”
“You’re right; it would be hard to get you out of the limelight today.” Open Book paused. “But how about in the past?” He tried to remember exactly when Nightmare Moon had been defeated. “Four years ago, what was your dream?”
“At that time, I was well on my way to achieving my lifelong dream of being Equestria’s greatest fashion designer,” Rarity said. “I had already founded Carousel Boutique, and had started designing fashions that would turn heads from Canterlot to Manehattan. I just hadn’t attracted anypony’s attention yet.”
“And Sweetie Belle knew that?” Open Book asked.
“Of course,” Rarity said. “I was never shy about discussing my dream.”
“I suspect your sister may have internalized her fear of overshadowing you long before anypony had heard your name,” Open Book said.
“Well, I think a certain little sister needs to hear how thrilling it would be to design the costumes for an entire touring performance!” Rarity said excitedly. Open Book looked at her curiously.
“Or perhaps she needs to hear about the very soul of generosity, that I would forever remain a seamstress in Ponyville if it meant a better life for her,” Rarity added.
“Fortunately, the cure for your sister’s fear is simple, and you already know it. Promise me you will talk to her about this fear,” Open Book stated.
“I will,” Rarity said.
The crowds in the marketplace were thin this late in the evening, but that didn’t stop the merchants from pitching their remaining wares to every passerby. The orange earth pony was no exception, promoting a half dozen varieties of apples from behind her cart. Seeing the counselor approach, Applejack waved him over.
“Howdy, pardner! Have a Red Delicious, on the house.” Applejack grabbed an apple with her tail, flipped it into the air, and caught it on the top of her Stetson before offering it to him. “And if you’d like a take a bushel of Equestria’s finest apples home with you to Canterlot, Ah’ll cut you a deal.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve come to talk with you about Apple Bloom,” Open Book said. “Can you spare a moment, perhaps go somewhere and talk?”
Applejack observed the diminishing crowd. “Ah suppose Ah can close shop early. We can talk on the way back to the farm,” she suggested.
Open Book watched Applejack efficiently close down her cart, storing the mostly empty baskets, pulling down the awning, and hitching herself to it. “Let’s roll,” she said.
Once out of anypony’s earshot, Open Book addressed Applejack. “Of the three Cutie Mark Crusaders, Apple Bloom is furthest from understanding her own heart.”
“What does that mean?” Applejack wondered.
“Apple Bloom’s talent clearly lies in building and fixing things,” Open Book explained. “I witnessed her fix a cart’s broken axle this morning, with little more than nails and scrap wood. And she took one look at a wooden ramp I had constructed, and noticed a fix it needed. Yet your sister is resisting pursuing her talent.”
“That don’t make no sense,” Applejack said.
“Apple Bloom even went so far as to tell me she was afraid of the amount of work that talent would mean for her. She said that even after I watched her perform that repair job, happily and without complaint.” Open Book sighed. “And I don’t know why she said that.”
“A shirker and a liar? Ah’m gonna have to have a talk with that filly,” Applejack decided.
“Technically, she’s either one or the other, not both,” the counselor corrected, but Applejack wasn’t paying attention.
“Ah taught her better than that,” Applejack muttered. “Big Macintosh taught her better than that. So did Pa and Granny Smith.”
Open Book noticed an omission. “What about your mother? Didn’t she teach Apple Bloom too?”
“Apple Bloom never had much of a chance to know Ma.” Applejack halted and looked skyward. “Ma was a little old to be bearin’ another foal, and she soon found herself confined to bed, very sick. Praise Celestia that Apple Bloom was born strong and healthy. Ma, bless her soul, loved little Apple Bloom with all her heart, but she never recovered from the pregnancy. She passed before Apple Bloom turned two, so most of what she knows about her she learned from us.”
“It must be hard for a child so young to lose both parents,” Open Book said.
“It wasn’t easy for any of us. But Apple Bloom is strong, Apple strong,” Applejack said proudly. As if to punctuate that statement, Applejack strained against the harness, getting the cart rolling again.
As the two earth ponies continued to walk, Open Book asked, “When did your father pass?”
“About six years ago,” Applejack said. “It wasn’t easy for us, but we farm folk recognize the danger of farm work is just part of bein’ a farmer.”
“He died in an accident?” Open Book asked.
Applejack nodded and sighed heavily. “He fell while fixing the roof of the barn. Broke his neck, they said. By the time….”
Open Book glanced back. Applejack had come to a full stop, and was staring at the ground, shaking her head slightly. “Ah should’ve seen it,” she muttered.
“There’s no need to criticize yourself, Miss Applejack,” the counselor said.
“But it’s mah fault,” Applejack said. “Ah kept tellin’ Apple Bloom to be strong, but these memories are still botherin’ her.”
“Please, Miss Applejack, you won’t help anypony by kicking yourself. Apple Bloom needs a different kind of counselor.” Open Book looked the mare in the eye. “Promise me you’ll be Apple strong for her.”
“Ah will,” Applejack acknowledged. “Would you like to meet the rest of the family?”
Open Book glanced at the sky and shook his head. “I’m afraid I have a train to catch. I must bid you goodbye, Miss Applejack.”
Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.
Chapter 11: Conclusions
The door to the schoolhouse opened, and excited foals dashed to freedom. A particular trio, normally the first to run off together, instead stood near the door.
“Sis asked me to come straight home today, so we can’t go crusadin’,” Apple Bloom said, looking a bit worried.
“And my sister invited me for… blech… tea,” Sweetie Belle added.
“That’s okay, because I’ve got plans too. I’m going to hang out with the most awesome pony in Ponyville today!” Scootaloo said excitedly. “Just think, Rainbow Dash is taking time out of her busy schedule to teach me tricks!”
“You mean that busy schedule?” Apple Bloom said, pointing to the cyan pegasus napping in the large oak tree near the schoolyard.
“Yeah, I mean, you want to get together this weekend?” Scootaloo said, changing the subject.
“Ah’d like that,” Apple Bloom said. “Maybe a picnic in the park?”
“I still want to try windsurfing some time,” Sweetie Belle admitted, inspiring raised eyebrows from her friends. “What? It sounds like fun! But so does just hanging out with you.”
Apple Bloom slowly trotted home, her eyes drawn to the unusually interesting dirt path. She didn’t want to catch her sister’s eye this afternoon. She felt like she was in trouble, even though her sister had used the exact opposite words that morning. “We need to have a talk, as a family,” she had said.
Noises bounced around the apple trees as Apple Bloom walked. It took a while for her brain to translate the sensations reaching her ear as the sound of her name being called.
Apple Bloom looked up to see her sister looking at her, worried. “Gosh sakes, Apple Bloom. Ah thought you were sleepwalkin’,” Applejack said.
“Ah was just thinkin’,” Apple Bloom replied.
“Well, that’s good. We’ve got some thinkin’ to do. Why don’t you get some juice and go into the family room?” Applejack suggested.
“Okay, sis,” Apple Bloom replied.
Apple Bloom headed into the kitchen and poured herself a tall glass of apple juice from the large clay jug. She carefully carried the glass to the family room and set it on an end table, next to a small framed photograph of Ma and Pa. Ma held an infant Applejack, while Pa kept a foreleg draped around a toddler Big Macintosh. “Probably wasn’t called Big back then,” Apple Bloom thought. Then she realized she hadn’t seen that photograph in a while.
Looking around the family room, Apple Bloom noticed plenty of other photographs cluttering the tables and shelves, and a photo album set on the coffee table. Recent photos of the three younger Apples with Granny Smith and group portraits from the recent Apple family reunion mixed with photos five, ten, even twenty years old.
The house’s back door opened, and two sets of hoofsteps sounded on the wooden floor. Apple Bloom forced a smile as her older siblings walked into the family room and sat down.
“Ah just wanted to say Ah’m proud of you,” Applejack started. “Proud of you for bein’ so strong. Part of bein’ strong is doin’ what you have to do for your family, for the farm, for everypony in Ponyville.”
Applejack took off her hat and bowed her head. “But Ah have to be honest, Apple Bloom. Ah miss Ma and Pa. Ah miss them every day,” she said.
“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh agreed.
“Ah miss them too, even if Ah didn’t know them as long,” Apple Bloom said.
“We want you to know that if anything is botherin’ you, you can always talk to us,” Applejack said. “So, is anything botherin’ you?”
“No, not really,” Apple Bloom said quietly.
Big Macintosh shook his head. “Sis, we taught you better than that,” he said sadly.
“Ah know it’s hard, but bein’ honest with yourself is the most important thing you can do,” Applejack said. “So, let’s go in steps. You remember Pa, right?”
“Pretty well,” Apple Bloom said.
“And you remember what happened the day he passed?” Applejack asked.
“Yeah,” Apple Bloom admitted. “The barn. Falling.” She turned her head away, sniffling slightly.
“And do you remember what your brother did the day after the funeral?” the elder sister asked.
Apple Bloom looked up. “Ah don’t remember anything, ‘cept stayin’ in my room, crying,” she said.
“Ah climbed the ladder, went onto the roof of the barn, and patched that hole,” Big Macintosh said. “The barn needed it. The family needed it.”
Apple Bloom looked at her brother in admiration. “Were you scared?” she asked him.
“Ah was. Ah was extra careful, but still, the danger’s still there,” Big Macintosh said.
“Again, Ah’ll be honest, Apple Bloom,” Applejack said. “Farm work’s got its dangers. A lot of ponies get hurt, and some even die. But when your talent is to feed everypony, well, it’s just not right to ignore it because you might get hurt.”
“Ah want to help feed everypony too!” Apple Bloom said.
“Ah think you’re gonna help everypony in another way,” Applejack said. “But you’re still bothered by Pa’s passing. And Ah’m not the best pony to help you with that.
“Ah’m gonna take you into town to meet another pony, Doctor Sureheart. He’ll talk with you, and help you, just like that Open Book fellow.” Applejack stood up. “Be Apple strong for me, Apple Bloom.”
Apple Bloom stood up and hugged her sister. “Ah will.”
As Apple Bloom followed her sister through the streets of Ponyville, she caught a buzzing sound, rapidly growing in intensity.
“Hi, Apple Bloom!” she heard, an orange blur speeding past her. Above, Rainbow Dash followed, leisurely flying upside down and backwards, as if she were swimming a backstroke.
“Hey, Applejack!” the older pegasus called as she passed. Turning to Scootaloo, Rainbow Dash urged her on. “No distractions, if you want to beat your best time!”
Scootaloo focused on the road ahead, planning her next three turns. Somewhere ahead there was that tree root that had tripped her up earlier. She thought she remembered where it was, but instead focused on the contours and shading of the path, looking for the telltale signs of the bump. Spotting it, she plotted a gentle arc around it.
Once Scootaloo reached the outskirts of Ponyville, Rainbow Dash sped ahead. The filly smiled, knowing her idol would place that wooden ramp somewhere on the path. Her eyes caught the straight lines and angles of the pony-made ramp, out of place amidst the natural shapes. “Tricky!” Scootaloo thought. The ramp was not far from another exposed root. If she took her normal wide path around the obstruction, she’d miss the chance to catch some air.
Regretfully, she prepared to slow down, needing the lower speed to make her planned tight turns safe. She leaned to the left, then quickly to the right. Barely missing the exposed root, she again turned left, aiming for the ramp. Once she felt her scooter’s front wheel connect with the smooth wooden surface, she pumped her wings.
The second wheel touched the ramp, and very soon, the first wheel left the ramp. Scootaloo smiled as she felt herself ascend. She imagined the start of a daring Wonderbolts routine, picturing a spiraling ascent to the heavens. With her left rear hoof, she kicked the bottom of the scooter, spinning it around the axis of the crossbar connecting the bottom to the handlebars.
Following three complete rotations, and now descending to the ground, she stopped the spin with her right rear leg. She planted her rear hooves firmly on the scooter’s base and gripped the handlebars. She hit the ground, bouncing once before connecting solidly. Crossing a line chalked into the dirt, she spun out, bringing her race to an end. Rainbow Dash landed seconds later.
“How’d I do?” Scootaloo asked her idol.
“Eh, it was okay,” Rainbow Dash replied. But Scootaloo smiled anyway, recognizing the pride in the older pegasus’ voice.
“Oh, go on and try it, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity urged.
“I told you I don’t like tea,” Sweetie Belle said. She sniffed, the aroma of mint telling her this wasn’t Rarity’s normal tea, but the unicorn filly was still suspicious.
“This is different, an herbal tea with mint. It’s not as bitter. Just try one sip,” Rarity suggested.
Sweetie Belle relented, sipping the hot tea. The spearmint was a nice flavor, but it wasn’t sweet, like the spearmint gumdrops she enjoyed. “It’s okay,” she said.
“Doesn’t it feel nice as you drink it?” Rarity asked.
Sweetie Belle thought. “It does kind of tingle,” she said.
“I highly recommend it to soothe a sore or strained throat,” Rarity said. “A lot of singers swear by it, you know.”
Sweetie Belle pushed her cup away. “You think I could be a singer?” she asked.
“I know you have a lovely voice,” Rarity replied. “And I would like nothing more than to cheer you on as the greatest singer in Equestria.”
“I don’t know if I could be that good,” Sweetie Belle said.
“You won’t know unless you try,” Rarity said.
“And being on stage? That’s scary!” Sweetie Belle said.
“I’ve seen you on stage before, and it didn’t bother you that much,” Rarity replied evenly. “Look, Sweetie Belle, I want you to understand that I will always support you, no matter how successful you become.”
“But what about your dream, Rarity?” Sweetie Belle interjected.
“My dear sister, I do many things,” Rarity explained. “I find gems because that is my talent. I design dresses using these gems because that is my passion. I give dresses to ponies in need because that is generosity. I fight when Equestria is in need because that is right and good. And I love you because you are my sister. None of these details will ever change if you become famous across Equestria.”
Sweetie Belle was quiet. Rarity scooped up her little sister in her forelegs and hugged her close. “I appreciate your generous soul, Sweetie, but you should not hurt yourself for my benefit. That is not true generosity. I want you to know I will always support you,” she said.
“All I wanted is for you to be a big name fashion designer, like you always said,” Sweetie Belle said, squeezing her sister back.
Rarity lowered her sister to the floor and looked her in the eye. “There’s one lovely filly who I know will always want to wear my designs. And one say, she’ll be a beautiful mare, and she’ll look positively divine in one of my dresses,” she said. “Can you picture it?”
Sweetie Belle smiled. “I can see it, Rarity! Scootaloo looks so pretty!” she teased.
Rarity glared at her, but soon smiled and shared a laugh with her sister.
“YEAAAAH!” Scootaloo screamed, soaring after launching off a tipped wagon. She was never going to touch ground again!
Wait, she wasn’t falling! That wish never worked before! But then the filly realized she wasn’t falling because somepony was holding her. She glanced back, smiling as she saw her idol.
Unfortunately, Rainbow Dash quickly banked and set Scootaloo and her scooter down on the ground. “I said, race time is over,” Rainbow Dash said sternly. “It’s time for flight practice.”
Scootaloo flapped her wings and rose into the air, but staying aloft for less than thirty seconds. “I’m trying, Dash!”
Rainbow Dash scowled. “You know what I mean, Scoots. Flying practice with Twilight Sparkle, at the library, with books,” she stated.
“Just one more race?” Scootaloo asked, pleading with sad puppy dog eyes.
Rainbow Dash placed her foreleg over the filly’s shoulders, a comforting gesture that also allowed her to subtly direct Scootaloo’s scooter towards the library. “If you want to be an awesome flier like me, you’ve got to work. I can’t just be the cool older sister who’s all about doing fun things,” Rainbow Dash explained. “I mean, I’ll still be cool, but I’m going to tell you to study and do those not fun things, for your own good.”
“Awwww,” Scootaloo complained. “I just want to be awesome like you!”
“You know what’s really awesome? Nailing an aerial maneuver the first time you try it!” Rainbow Dash said.
“Just like you!” Scootaloo said.
“Heck no!” Rainbow Dash corrected her. “It always takes me a few practice runs to get it right.”
“What?” Scootaloo cried.
“I learn best by just trying it,” Rainbow Dash explained. “If I ever read a book first, maybe I’d accomplish it correctly the first time. But that’s not me.”
Rainbow Dash released Scootaloo with a little push, directing her scooter to the Books and Branches library. “If you’ve ever wanted to be better than me, practice that egghead thing with Twilight Sparkle first,” she said with a wink.
Scootaloo nodded. “I’ll try,” she said, smiling.
The pegasus filly pushed open the door. Twilight Sparkle greeted her with a big smile, and a bigger stack of books. Her smile slipped, but she stepped forward, ready to embrace her first day of flight school.
