There is nothing quite like seeing the spark of understanding appear in somepony’s eyes; when the clouds of confusion give way to the bright sunlight of enlightenment. Twilight Sparkle understood it. Miss Cheerilee understood it. And now, the cutie mark crusaders understood, too. Their Cutie Mark Crusader Cutie Mark Interpretation Agency, LLC (that's what it said on the sign over the door, though none of them knew exactly what those last three letters stood for) had helped many young ponies in Ponyville with understanding the symbol that the universe had seen fit to brand upon their shoulders.
The fact that their latest client who had come for help understanding his cutie mark had brought them a token of appreciation hadn't hurt, either.
“Bye, Truffle Shuffle!” Apple Bloom called through the window.
Truffle Shuffle waved goodbye and cheerfully scampered off.
Sweetie Belle surreptitiously loosened her belt. “I vote he comes back more often,” she said. “His food is delicious.”
“Yeah, it is,” Apple Bloom agreed. “This is one of those times where I'm really glad to help somepony understanding their talent. Not just eating; but cooking for others!”
Scootaloo tossed her napkin up and it landed directly in the trash can. She pumped a fist triumphantly. “Sweet,” she cheered. She turned back to the other two. “It was alright, I guess.”
“I'm kinda surprised to hear that, because you've been living off bagel bites and pizza rolls for so long I thought you’d forgotten what real food’s supposed to taste like.” Apple Bloom laughed.
“Don't diss the bagel bites,” Scootaloo warned her. “I bet Celestia herself eats them.”
“I bet she doesn't,” Apple Bloom returned.
“And how would you know?”
“Princesses don't eat junk food, featherbrain.”
“Princesses can eat whatever the heck they want,” Scootaloo retorted. “It's part of the whole ‘being a princess’ thing.”
“That doesn't prove she does,” Apple Bloom scoffed.
“But you can't prove she doesn't!”
Luckily, their bickering was cut short as the bell over the door jingled. Somepony was coming in.
Sweetie Belle quickly put on her winningest smile. “Welcome to the CMCCMIA, LLC!” she said excitedly.
Scootaloo leaned over towards Apple Bloom. “You know, we need to shorten that,” she whispered.
Apple Bloom shrugged. “I think it's got a nice rhythm to it,” she whispered back.
Their newest client looked up at them, his eyes narrowed and his expression slightly challenging. “So you help ponies understand their talents?” he started.
“That's right!” Sweetie Belle said with a wide smile. “Sometimes it's what's inside, not just what's outside.”
“Alright. Let's see how you do with mine. My special talent is ballet dancing. Stupid, girly ballet dancing.” He crossed his arms defiantly, but he was definitely embarrassed about this, if his ears burning pink and his twitching, swishing tail were any indication.
In unison, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom looked back towards Scootaloo. Her eyes flicked between them. “What?” she asked.
“That just sounds like something up your alley,” Apple Bloom shrugged.
Scootaloo mumbled something that sounded vaguely like putting her hoof up somepony else’s alley before straightening up and looking over at the colt. “Look, maybe it's ballet dancing. Maybe it's not. Let's start with seeing what we're working with.”
The colt defiantly tugged up his shirt sleeve.
Scootaloo puffed her cheeks out and then exhaled slowly. “Nope. That's definitely a set of ballet slippers.”
He tugged his sleeve back down. “Told you,” he groused.
This was now Apple Bloom’s territory. “It's important to remember that first appearances aren't everything. Why, we once helped this pony who thought his cutie mark was for his bad luck. Turns out it was for him bein’ the greatest rodeo clown Appleoosa’s ever seen!”
He stared at her flatly, and held up a finger. “Ok, two things. First of all, I'm not a rodeo clown.” He put up a second finger. “Second off, that's not my problem.”
Apple Bloom cocked her head. “It's not?”
“No. Here's the thing: I like it. I'm good at it. I just don't… like doing it.”
Apple Bloom cocked her head, not quite understanding. “You mean you like it, but you don't like it?” she guessed.
The dam broke. “It's a girly thing!” he howled, clenching his fists against his thighs. “Ballet is a thing all the fillies want to do, and I'm a colt! I'm supposed to like football and sports and farting and stuff like that!”
“Fillies can like football, too,” Sweetie Belle protested. “I used to play with my dad all the time.”
“You're not helping,” Apple Bloom hissed.
Scootaloo waved them both down. “Look. If you keep thinking like that, yeah, you're gonna hate it. Think about it this way: You're on stage with some really good looking mares.”
Sweetie Belle froze. “Unless you don't… actually… like mares,” she added. “That's ok, too.”
He snorted, blushing and still looking down. “Yeah. I like mares,” he muttered.
“And you wear tights tight enough to show your whole package,” Scootaloo continued.
He hesitated, pondering this. He glanced down towards his belt buckle, as if imagining this scenario playing out.
Apple Bloom fought the urge to facepalm. “Really?” she hissed at Sweetie Belle. “That's what's gonna convince him?”
“Yeah, colts are weird; but I doubt it'll be that easy,” Sweetie Belle whispered back.
Sure enough, the allure of exhibitionism did not fully win him over. He crossed his arms again. “Yeah, but it's still ballet.”
“There is nothing wrong with ballet,” Scootaloo protested hotly.
“Oh, yeah? You do it, then,” he challenged.
Scootaloo folded her arms right back. “You know what? I will. Publicly. And if I do, you quit whining about it and accept your cutie mark.”
The colt smirked. “Deal. Name your time and place.”
Scootaloo thought for a moment, and then her mouth curled up in a triumphant smile. “How does the yearly Ponyville Variety Show sound?”
The colt’s jaw dropped—that was definitely a public event—but then his eyes narrowed. “Fine. You're on.”
“Be there,” Scootaloo warned, “because if you're not, I'll…” Her eyes narrowed. “I'll tell Pinkie Pie to sign you and me up for the couples dance that evening.”
He briefly shuddered, less at the thought of dancing with Scootaloo and more at the thought of an overly-exuberant Pinkie Pie hunting him down, bouncing along, finding him, and then literally dragging him behind her out for that dance. “I'll be there.”
And with a little spit and a handshake (and an incidental grimace from Sweetie Belle), the deal was set.
Officially, the yearly Ponyville Variety Show was more of a showcase than a competition. Though Ponyville was a smaller town compared to others in Equestria, it had many talented ponies; and the Variety Show was a great way to display talents without too much judgement. This is why the subtitle of the show was ‘variety’ rather than ‘talent’.
Unofficially, though, the variety show trophies were among the most coveted honors Ponyville could give; and everypony pulled out all the stops to ensure that they would be going home with one.
Currently, Sweetie Belle was walking through the lines and lines of bakers who hoped to win over both the judges and the general public with their baked goods, and she couldn't help but inhale deeply to try and take in all the wonderful smells. She could almost hear her sister wailing about her figure already.
In other words, Sweetie Belle was exactly where she wanted to be. She adjusted her hat so it fit over her horn better and squared her shoulders, and began her quest for sugar and other Rarity-unapproved things.
She slowed to a stop as she passed by a familiar-looking table. It bore a tablecloth that was two colored, split down the middle into light blue and pink sections. Stacks and stacks of cupcakes were situated on each side. On the front, it read ‘A Corner Divided’.
“Hey, Sweetie Belle!” Pinkie Pie called, waving exuberantly from underneath the tablecloth.
“Hi, Pinkie. What's going on?”
Pinkie pulled her head out from under the table and grinned. “Mrs. Cake and I are competing!” she announced. “And I'm going to win!”
Mrs. Cake chuckled. “Don't count your flans before they're set, Pinkie,” she warned. “I've got the experience and know-how.”
“But I'm Pinkie Pie!” Pinkie protested.
Sweetie Belle paused, and then nodded. Pinkie Pie would definitely consider that a logical argument.
“Well, I'm glad you agree!” Pinkie said cheerfully.
“Wait, I'm not-” Sweetie protested, not really wanting to actually pick a side.
“Here! Take one, from Team Pinkie!” And Pinkie pressed a cupcake into Sweetie's hands.
Sweetie licked her lips. She unwrapped it and took a bite, and a wide smile spread across her face. “This is amazing!”
“You're just saying that because you haven't tried mine yet,” Cup Cake broke in. She gave Sweetie Belle one of hers. Sweetie gamely took a bite of this one, too. Her eyes widened. “Whoa!”
“My turn!” The next pony waved down Sweetie Belle and held out his own cupcake. “You've gotta try these!”
Apple Bloom paced irritably, ignoring the suspicious stares of the nearest artist. Where was Sweetie Belle? She was supposed to be here ten minutes ago!
Finally, she saw her, ambling along. She threw her hands up. “Finally! There you are! What took you so long?”
Sweetie Belle slowly walked nearer, one hand resting on her stomach. She raised her other hand over her mouth to cover a little burp. “Got trapped in Baker’s Alley,” she explained.
“And you ate everything you could get your hands on?” Apple Bloom guessed flatly.
Sweetie Belle nodded. “And I regret nothing,” she said blissfully.
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. Sweetie Belle’s legendary metabolism struck again. “Come on. Scootaloo's expecting us.”
They made their way through the pottery section to the main stage. There was a large stage set up in the middle of the action, and they ducked backstage, where the ponies who were preparing for the variety show portion were. Somewhere around here was Scootaloo, and they wanted to wish her luck before her ballet performance; but she wasn't readily visible in the organized chaos that was backstage. Ponies were running around, doing last-minute tasks and organizing their props. A gray pegasus mare was tending to a stack of muffins, though whether her act would be stacking them or snacking on them, Sweetie couldn't tell.
She paused just long enough to give herself a mental pat on the back for her cleverness before moving on.
“What do you think she's gonna do?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“I dunno,” Apple Bloom shrugged. “Dance, I guess.”
Sweetie Belle twirled once, remembering one of the ballets she'd seen as a foal (and only barely avoiding a traveling flagpole). “I hope she doesn't fall.”
“I hope she breaks her leg,” Apple Bloom suggested.
“That's only for theatre!” Sweetie Belle protested. “And you're supposed to say it to her, not about her!”
Apple Bloom irritably blew her mane off her forehead with a brief puff of air. “There's a ton of rules for all this stuff. I'm just gonna say ‘good luck’ and call it good.”
“Works for me.” Sweetie scanned the performers again. “Now we just have to find her.”
It wasn't long before they saw a pony with orange wings, and a mane that was a very familiar shade of purple. But this pony was wearing a bright pink tutu with a huge frill, and Scootaloo would not be caught dead in such an outfit. Sweetie Belle passed her by; but Apple Bloom did a double take. “Scootaloo?!”
Scootaloo jumped and spun around. When she recognized her friends, she crossed her arms and scowled. “Go ahead,” she grumbled, blushing darker than her tutu. “Laugh it up.”
Apple Bloom did giggle; but Sweetie Belle didn't. “Scootaloo!” She gasped. “You look so refined!”
Scootaloo reached back around the frill to clear a wedgie. “Right,” she grumbled.
“I didn't know you still did ballet,” Apple Bloom said.
Scootaloo shrugged even as she blushed slightly. “I don't anymore,” she grumped. “Stopped sometime in the second grade.”
“So where did you even get one of those in your size?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Diamond Tiara, of all ponies,” Scootaloo answered, as if a little surprised at the answer herself.
“Really?” Apple Bloom was surprised. Though not their closest friend, Diamond Tiara had turned out to be really helpful to have around sometimes.
“Yeah. I guess she stuck with ballet longer.” She held up a finger and stopped herself. “Wait, let me say that again. Her mom made her stick with ballet for a bragging point.”
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “She would,” she muttered darkly.
Scootaloo nodded, and then noticed Sweetie Belle staring. “What?” she demanded.
“I don't know. I just… I heard you don't wear underwear under those.”
The tips of Scootaloo's ears tinged pink. “You don't,” she confirmed. Her tone turned defensive. “She washed it!”
“So you're not wearing-?”
“No!”
Sweetie Belle nodded. “Huh. You can't tell.”
“Why are you even looking?” Scootaloo demanded as she held the frill down a bit more in front.
It was Sweetie Belle’s turn to blush. “I… am… practicing if I ever… need to help somepony get a cutie mark in filly fooling?” she tried.
Scootaloo reached out and yanked Sweetie Belle’s hat down over her eyes before turning and storming off, disgusted. This was rendered somewhat ineffective because the ballet slippers she wore muffled her hoofstomps and the frill of the tutu swished merrily behind her as she departed; but she made a valiant effort anyway.
Sweetie Belle pulled her hat up to see Apple Bloom, arms crossed, staring flatly at her. “Seriously?” Apple Bloom demanded.
She gave her a sheepish smile.
Apple Bloom snorted. “If we do ever get to help with that cutie mark—and I sincerely doubt we ever will—you're gonna sit it out.”
Sweetie Belle blushed a deeper pink than Scootaloo's tutu. “I- it’s not like I want to see her… uh… her…”
Apple Bloom shook her head and knocked Sweetie Belle's hat off with a light swipe of her had. “I don't know, and I don't wanna. Come on. Let's find our seats afore we're stuck in the standing area.”
As they left, they passed Diamond Tiara, carrying a garment bag over her shoulder. She waved to them as she rushed by.
Sweetie Belle waved back, but then paused. “I thought Rarity said she was helping organize Fashion Row. Is she competing here, too?”
Apple Bloom shrugged. “Maybe. Wouldn't surprise me.”
As it turned out, Diamond Tiara was not competing. In fact, she was slumped over in her chair, exhausted; and Silver Spoon was sitting next to her and gently scratching her back comfortingly.
Sweetie Belle glanced up at Apple Bloom, but it quickly became apparent that no scratchings were forthcoming from that direction. She shrugged and settled back into her chair.
The Variety Show portion was fantastic, as it always was. Ponies did everything from juggling to singing to stand-up comedy, and a few times the two fillies found themselves supporting each other from laughing too hard.
And then it was Scootaloo’s turn to take the stage.
She had changed her outfit; she wore now a simple purple leotard with a flowing short skirt. It was made of a very light material that seemed to flow over her hips as she walked, now with her head held high and no traces of embarrassment. Even Apple Bloom looked impressed.
Scootaloo walked to the center of the stage, knelt down, and bowed her head.
“Is she being sad?” Apple Bloom whispered.
“She's being artistic,” Sweetie hissed.
Music started to play, a familiar piano melody mixed with something else. It started out slow, and Scootaloo followed the music. It slowly rose, slightly higher.
And when it dropped, Scootaloo danced.
It was as if she were a physical manifestation of the music; suddenly, it was following her instead. Her hooves were light on the ground; though she leapt and traveled she barely made a sound. She couldn’t fly yet, but she used her wings in the dance. At times she hid her face behind them, at times she covered herself with them; but for the finale, she spread them behind her, making her appear majestic and almost regal. She ended, standing tall with her head bowed, but her wings fully flared.
And the crowd exploded in cheering. Sweetie Belle shot to her hooves, with Apple Bloom right beside her, whistling. Even Diamond Tiara woke up enough to clap sleepily.
As Scootaloo left the stage, she paused to point at somepony in the crowd before exiting the stage. Apple Bloom nodded, and she and Sweetie Belle made their way down the aisle backstage.
They found Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle jumped on her. “Scootaloo!” she cheered. “That was amazing!”
“Yeah,” Scootaloo answered, returning the hug happily. “It totally was!”
“I bet you’ll win first prize, for sure!” Apple Bloom said, joining in on the hugging action.
Scootaloo shrugged. “I dunno. There are some pretty good acts on later; but I don’t even care. That was fun.”
Scootaloo swaggered out of the arena, carrying in the crook of her arm a respectably-sized trophy, closely followed by her best friends.
“Third place is pretty good,” Sweetie Belle said comfortingly.
“Yeah,” Scootaloo agreed proudly, holding it up in front of her. It gleamed in the sunlight. As she did, she caught sight of a familiar colt, leaning against one of the stands, hands firmly in his pockets, attempting to look nonchalant but most definitely looking at her.
Scootaloo marched over. “Did you see that?” she demanded. “That was all girly and flowy and stuff and guess what? Ponies liked it! Even Rainbow Dash said she liked it!” She poked him in the chest with the tip of her trophy. “So get up, shut up, and just do it!”
“But-”
She prodded him twice. “Do it!”
“Ow! But-”
She jabbed him again. “Celestia as my witness I will impale you with my trophy. Do it! Own it!”
“Ok…” he said hesitantly.
Scootaloo did not hesitate; she poked him again. “Louder! It's you, it’s your talent, so you can do it! Maybe even better than me! So just… do it!”
“I will!”
“Do it!”
“Stop poking me!”
Scootaloo retracted her trophy. “Fine. But I’ll be watching. If I don’t get an invitation to your next recital, and you’re not front and center, I’m sneaking into your house and you’ll be wearing this trophy as a hat.”
The colt’s eyes widened.
Scootaloo nodded firmly. “We’ve helped someone get a cutie mark in lockpicking. I've learned things, buddy. Don’t test me.” She held up two fingers and made an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture as she backed away.
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom watched quietly as Scootaloo slowly walked backwards, still repeating her gesture and holding her trophy tightly. “Two bits says she trips on something,” Apple Bloom whispered.
Sweetie Belle would be two bits richer; as soon as he was out of sight, Scootaloo turned back around and admired her trophy once more.
Her two closest friends quickly caught up. “Is that it?”
“I guess,” Scootaloo said. “Unless you want to go out for ice cream or something?”
Sweetie Belle's stomach rumbled inexplicably. “Sure. I'm a little hungry.”
Apple Bloom stared incredulously.
Sweetie continued, “I just figured, you'd, uh, give it to him or something; like, to inspire him.”
“Are you nuts?” Scootaloo barked a laugh. “I won this thing fair and square! If he wants a trophy, he can get on stage and earn one himself. This one’s mine. And it's going on the top shelf in the clubhouse!” She marched off, pumping the trophy up and down as if she were a drum major. “Scoots! Scoots! Scoots!” she cheered for herself.
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom shared a look, and then shrugged. In unison, they quickly caught up with Scootaloo and chanted along with her. “Scoots! Scoots! Scoots!” And away the three marched into the distance.
At least, until Apple Bloom noticed something. “Um, Scootaloo?” she started.
“Yes?”
“Are you gonna put pants on?”
“Nah,” Scootaloo said mischievously. Now in a much better mood (and still on a high from her victory), she was not above teasing her friends. “I wouldn’t want to deprive Sweetie Belle of the chance to stare.”
“What?” Sweetie Belle squeaked. “I- I’m not looking at your butt!”
“Really?” Scootaloo smirked. “Who said anything about my butt?”
“I-” Sweetie Belle blushed bright red. “It’s not…”
Scootaloo laughed. “You totally want me. It’s ok!”
“I do not!”
“Do too.”
“Do not!” Sweetie Belle insisted.
“Do too!”
Apple Bloom snickered as the back-and-forth continued. It was all in good fun. No matter what happened, the CMCCMIA, LLC would always be together.
Then she paused.
“Yeah, Scoots is right,” she mused as her friends kept arguing. “We do need to shorten that.”