> The Long Drop and Sudden Stop
>  by Wise Cracker
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> A Night At the Opera
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Wow, you are just full of surprises, Rumble.” Sweetie Belle did her level best not to blush, with the boy so close to her.

The boy in question didn’t seem to have any emotion in him at all at the moment, just an intense focus. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to be offended by that. 

“Umm, thanks,” he said, keeping her body close to his as he let her dip. His wings were up, his hind hooves steady on the stable floor, one front hoof holding hers, the other on her thigh, just above her cutie mark to show it off.

“Yeah, I thought you said you hated dancing?” Scootaloo said as he carefully raised himself and his dance partner back up, keeping Sweetie Belle at proper gentlecolt distance, of course.

“No, I said I’m not a dancer. But I am gonna be a Wonderbolt one day, and Wonderbolts don’t bail on friends. So, do you want me to do it again?”

Apple Bloom, sitting on a bale of hay, nodded. “I think you’d better. Sweetie Belle ain’t got the hang of it just yet.”

“I do too!” Sweetie Belle said. “Besides, I’m probably not going to have to dance anyway.”

“No, but you might,” Apple Bloom retorted. “It’s your first real trip to Canterlot high society. Who knows, you might find yourself a little prince. You wouldn’t wanna step on his toes then, would ya?”

“We don’t have any toes,” Rumble remarked, his voice a droning monotone. A girly droning monotone, but a monotone nonetheless.

“You know what I mean. Rarity’s countin’ on ya to fit in with the rest of the snobs, so you gotta be prepared. Now, if’n the gentlecolt is ready for another go?”

Rumble nodded. “Simple three-step, faster pace, I know the drill. I’ll lead. Ready? And one-two-three, one-two-three...”

Sweetie Belle had to force herself to look him in the eyes. He used to look a lot cuter, she felt, but why, she couldn’t quite place. 

“One-two-three, one-two-three.”

The pair danced around the barn, calmly, quietly.

Sweetie’s mind wandered to how they’d ended up like this. On one hoof, it was Rarity’s fault. She’d offered to take Sweetie Belle to see some Canterlot show, and since Sweetie Belle was developing a fascination for that sort of thing – her cutie mark had something to do with that, she knew that much – the filly had been tickled pink to accept. 

Her heart still skipped a beat when she thought about what kind of trust Rarity had in her now. A cutie mark really did make all the difference. She wasn’t about to let her sister down.

But then Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had gotten involved. Apple Bloom had heard the horror stories from Applejack about Canterlot high society, which were a mix of scary and strange, from Sweetie Belle’s perspective. Apparently the little Apple found it odd that unicorns would have garden parties that did not involve actual gardening. Scootaloo then, always thinking of how to make a good impression, had teased and prodded her about what sort of boys Sweetie might meet in Canterlot. She’d jested at first about jousting matches, but then Apple Bloom had had the bright idea that maybe Sweetie Belle should prepare to actually dance with a boy, just in case. 

And that’s how Rumble had gotten dragged into this. 

It wasn’t entirely a random choice, seeing as the girls had grown rather fond of the boy the past few weeks. They’d had their ups and downs, mostly regarding a minor nervous breakdown on Rumble’s part: questioning his personal worth, his physical fitness, never being able to measure up to his dream of becoming a Wonderbolt, he’d been really torn up about the whole thing. But to Sweetie Belle, it was the sort of drama she had gotten used to from hanging out with her sister, so it hadn’t struck her as unusual and certainly not beyond remedy. Rainbow Dash had straightened the boy right out, at least that’s what Rainbow Dash thought. Rumble’s face hadn’t quite gotten back to normal after that, though, but what exactly that meant for a boy like him was anypony’s guess. Regardless, Rumble was helping Scootaloo out with her flying, he’d been instrumental in getting her off the ground in the first place, and while the future Wonderbolt insisted, even now, that he wasn’t a dancer, there they were, dancing. 

All they had to do was ask. 

“Would you mind helping us out? It’s a dance thing, and we kind of need a boy for it.”

Strange how easily he’d accepted. Perhaps it was his Wonderbolt stallion pride. 

“Sweetie Belle?”

He felt so soft to the touch. Much to her surprise, he didn’t even feel muscular. His thighs and belly were still squishy somehow, much like her own. But he was a fit boy, an athlete, he should have felt harder than that. It made her wonder.

“Sweetie Belle?”

“Huh?”

“We’re done,” Rumble said matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, sorry. You need to go now, huh?”

He nodded. “Not like urgently, no, but I do need to go soon. Go practise, I mean. Today’s a spinning day, I only have forty-five minutes before dinner, plus tonight’s a pasta night, so I have to make sure I get all my practice in before I eat. Wouldn’t wanna throw up in mid-air.”

“Sounds… fun?” Scootaloo said.

He let out a mirthless chuckle. “It’s just training. Wonderbolts work hard. I kinda need to stick to my schedule, that’s all. Gotta stay in shape.”

“Right. Can’t become a Wonderbolt stallion if you skip out on your reps.” Sweetie backed away and got down on all four hooves.

“Nope,” Rumble did the same. “So was there anything else you needed help with? Like, quick?”

“No,” Sweetie Belle said. “I think I’ve got it. You can go, if you want. And thanks again.”

“No problem.”

She gasped when he smiled at her. It was so brief, so bright, so sincere, it stuck out in her mind. But then he turned and left, and she could tell he went back to his usual, ‘schedule this,' ‘Wonderbolt that’ self. 

Sweetie Belle had figured the boy out quickly. He was the sort who wanted to be all he could be. But apparently ‘happy’ did not fall under that umbrella just yet. 

“Hey, youngins.” Applejack poked her head in just as Rumble was halfway across the orchard. “New friend?”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom said. “Just somepony to help out with dance lessons for Sweetie Belle.”

“Ain’t Scootaloo good enough for that?” Applejack nodded to the flying filly. 

“I don’t do ballroom dancing,” Scootaloo replied. 

“Rarity’s taking me to my first opera tomorrow night, I just wanted to be ready in case I meet a prince or something,” Sweetie Belle said. 

Applejack furrowed her brow. “You’re practisin’ ballroom dancing in case you meet a prince, on your first trip to the opera? Isn’t that a little excessive?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it is a little bit excessive. But, umm, the last few times someone in my family ran into a prince, it didn’t turn out very well. I’d rather make sure I’m good this time.”

Applejack psh-ed. “Oh, come on. Ya got nothin’ to fret over. Last Gallopin’ Gala we-well, okay, that got mucked up by Discord, but the Royal Wedding we-right, changelings, I guess, but the Galloping Gala before that, Rarity err...”

Sweetie Belle shot a glare at Applejack.

“Huh. Gettin’ ready in case you run into a prince. You know what? Forget I said anything, smart idea.”





The next day started like any other in Ponyville. After dancing practice with Rumble, Sweetie Belle had finished the first draft of a new screenplay before bed, she was almost done with the latest book her mom had gotten her on style guides and rules of storytelling (turns out you weren't supposed to do too much telling in storytelling), all in all Sweetie Belle was happy to be trotting to school that morning with her farmer friend by her side. 

“So have you thought about what we're gonna do with Rumble yet?”

“Well, we were going to help him get his cutie mark, but if all he wants is to be a Wonderbolt,  that might be too much for us,” Sweetie Belle replied. “You heard him the other day: he’s on a schedule. If we make him break it, he’d get angry. Or sad.”

“But Rainbow Dash got him to lighten up, didn’t she?”

Sweetie Belle looked around. “No, she got him to stop obsessing over the Wonderbolts like they’re perfect. Like he has to be perfect. She fixed one problem, but the one we were looking to fix is still there. He’s still not having any fun with all the effort he puts into flying. After all he’s done, the reservoir thing, helping Scootaloo, not to mention managing to impress Rainbow Dash, he’s still a blank flank.”

Apple Bloom grumbled and nodded, walking on towards their schoolhouse. “Yeah, and that’s gonna be a tough nut to crack, I reckon. Where's Scootaloo, anyhow? School's almost starting.”

Sweetie Belle looked up. “Probably flying now. Look, there's Rumble.” She pointed and waved up at the grey colt, who was currently flying up and down in circles, presumably doing his morning reps, eyes closed and mouth in that same neutral position they’d gotten used to seeing. 

It reminded Apple Bloom of Maude Pie, in a way. Except even Maude Pie’s face cracked a smile every now and then, and at least she had rocks to enjoy. “Wow. Does he always come to school like that?” Apple Bloom asked. 

Sweetie nodded. “He has lately. You haven't noticed?”

“Nope. Good morning, Rumble!” Apple Bloom waved a hoof at him.

Rumble stopped his practice for a moment, then waved down at them. “Hey, girls!”

“Race ya!” 

The call came right when he was distracted. He'd done three backflips already, or four, he wasn't sure. 

Something bolted past him, despite being weighed down by a bag full of books. 

Something that had only started flying mere days ago. 

Something orange. 

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Good morning to you too, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo made a roaring beeline to the building, before dropping down and skidding to a halt. 

“Nice landin', Scoot,” Apple Bloom said, picking up the pace to catch up. “Where's your scooter?”

The pegasus cocked her head towards the treeline. “Pinkie Pie got me a storage space.”

“Storage space? Where?”

“Cherry tree near school. I got my own key and everything. Where's Rumble? He was right behind me.”

Sweetie Belle's ears perked as she looked up. 

Up above, the grey colt was still going at his leisurely pace, doing his flips and corkscrews as he approached, his facial expression never changing. One final spin, and he dropped straight down. 

As always, Rumble landed quietly and gracefully, barely mouthing the word 'five.' “Hey, girls.”

Scootaloo grumbled. “Why would you let me win?”

He raised an eyebrow, in much the same fashion as he had when Scootaloo had asked him to teach her how to do a Sonic Rainboom. He still wasn't sure why she'd assumed he could do one in the first place. “Umm, because it's early in the morning, I hadn’t done my workout yet, and I need to pace myself?”

“Come on, that's no excuse. Where's your sense of honour?” She tried to punch him in the shoulder, but he swatted her hoof away. 

“Please don't try to punch me. If you really want to race me, I do speed runs over Ponyville twice a week, you can see how you measure up tomorrow, if you like. In the meantime, I have a schedule to keep, and I am not getting bruised. Rainbow Dash would kill me if I got hurt. Can’t be a Wonderbolt if I’m careless.” He spoke, as always, with a calm, if high-pitched, voice, more like a filly’s than a colt’s. 

Sweetie Belle had to suppress a sigh. Even after Rainbow Dash had straightened him out, always with the Wonderbolts, that Rumble. Always on schedule. 

At least it worked for him. 

“I guess,” Scootaloo conceded. 

The bell rang, and Cheerilee came out to call the group. “Girls! Class is starting.”

Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom all went towards the school. “So whose turn is it to do show and tell today?”

“I think it was Featherweight,” Sweetie Belle said. 

Rumble stayed put, before reluctantly following them, still with the same pondersome look on his face. 

Sweetie pouted and waited for him to catch up. She could almost swear she heard gears grinding in that pretty little head of his. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. Just trying to stay on schedule, is all. Like a real champ would. Rainbow Dash would say the same thing.” He forced out a smile. 

Sweetie Belle could tell it was forced; her sister pulled that one out every time Sweetie brought her breakfast in bed. Apparently charcoal biscuits wouldn’t be retro for at least another hundred years. “You know you don't have to always do every little bit of practice perfectly, right?”

“Yes, I do. It has to be perfect. If I ever want to be a Wonderbolt stallion, I can't let up. I can't take a break off schedule, I can't afford to overwork myself, and I can't quit,” he explained calmly, quietly. “You heard Rainbow Dash. I’m a champ, not a chump. So I act like a champ. I can’t quit.”

“No, but can champs afford to have a little fun?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Rainbow Dash has fun.”

“Flying is fun,” he replied coldly as he went in. “You wouldn't understand, no offense.”

Sweetie Belle stood there, pondering that answer. She could have argued it, get the last word in before class started. But on the whole, what were the odds of that working out in her favour, and by extension, Rumble’s favour? “No. Huh. That's a good point, actually. I guess I wouldn't.”





The Weather Patrol was just wrapping up another well-timed rain shower when the school bell rang. 

“Alright, class dismissed. Rumble, your turn for a show and tell tomorrow,” Cheerilee said. “I'm sure we're all looking forward to it.”

Rumble squeed, his wings flaring in a reflex. “I promise, you won't be disappointed.”

Diamond Tiara was first to the door, but not because she was in a hurry to get home. “Party at my house this Saturday,” she said, grabbing some notes. “It’s invitation-only, so if you know anypony who might want to show up, let me know. You can’t get in without an invitation.”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders looked on as their class filed out and passed Diamond Tiara. 

“Am I invited?” Twist asked as she went by the filly. 

“If you want to show, sure. My parents just want to make sure they know how many ponies are coming. So, are you coming alone?”

“I think I’ll ask my mom or my thister to show, too.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need more invites, then.” Diamond gave Twist a pair of very regal and official-looking notes. 

“Will do. See you on Saturday.”

“See you, Twist.” Diamond Tiara turned towards the Crusaders. “How about you, Zippoorwil? You wanna show?”

“I'd love to!” The beige buzzing bespectacled pegasus filly eagerly took an invitation. “Umm, no dogs allowed, right?”

“Sorry,” Diamond said with a wince. “My mom has a thing about furry animals.”

“No problem.”

Sweetie Belle found that remark stuck in her head, as remarks were wont to do for the little filly. Spoiled Rich had a thing about furry animals? Sweetie Belle herself, and her whole family with her – aside from her uncle Biscuit, but no one liked to talk about him – belonged to a breed of unicorns that favoured mountain landscapes. That's why they had such strong voices, her mother had explained once; for calling out family across great valleys and chasms. Unicorns in general had about ten to twenty-five percent of the genetic make-up of a goat, according to some specialists. What exactly genetics meant at all to a creature of magic, even the specialists couldn't quite agree on. 

At the very least, Sweetie Belle was pretty sure she was on the twenty-five percent side of the average. It would certainly have explained her cooking skills. It was also why her mane tended to curl naturally, and why her coat fluffed up so easily. 

Technically, as far as she knew, she was a furry animal. Would that pose a problem?

“You’re all invited, too, with a plus one.”

That answered that question. Sweetie Belle's mind was on point like that. 

“That’s awful nice of you, Diamond,” Apple Bloom said, taking her two invitations. “I think I'll ask Big Macintosh to show up; your family likes him, right?”

“Yeah, good idea,” Diamond said with a grimace. “It's gonna be great, I promise.”

“Am I invited?” Another girly voice asked. 

Diamond Tiara chuckled nervously. “You know you don’t need an invitation, Rumble. You’re always welcome. You too, Silver Spoon.”

Silver Spoon smiled and took two of the invitations, regardless, never saying a word.

“Just checking.” Rumble walked by, not even taking a note. “So, Scootaloo, you ready to try a catch now? I've got about ten minutes to spare today. Just no flips or bolting this time; I’m doing intervals later.”

“No problem. I think I’ve got the hang of catching now.” She followed and took off as Rumble spread his wings. 

“So you’re not going to strangle the dummy again?” He got out his vaguely Diamond Tiara-shaped practice doll and swung it over his shoulders before lifting off. As before, he didn’t look like he was joking. 

Maybe he’s not eating right, Sweetie Belle thought. An upset stomach can really wreck your mood, no matter how good things are going.

“Eheh, I’ll umm, I’ll try.”

With that, the two pegasi were airborne and practising. The girls stayed behind while Miss Cheerilee locked the building for the day. 

“Has Rumble said anything to you since his little spat with Rainbow Dash?” Apple Bloom asked. 

“No. He doesn’t talk about stuff like that. He just likes playing the big tough stallion, you know?”

“I still think we need to get him a cutie mark, stat. And I still think dancing is the way to go. He was good at it.”

“Wait, dancing?” Diamond asked. “You made him dance? For real?”

Sweetie Belle winced at the filly’s tone. “Err, yeah, why?”

Diamond shivered in the terror the girls had only seen her exhibit in front of her mother. “D-did he say anything, did he pull anything?”

Sweetie Belle slowly shook her head. “Err, no. He didn’t hurt himself. Why would he?”

“Well, like, he’s super uptight, you know. He might forget to stretch before dancing because it’s not a workout. Besides, my mom doesn’t like it.”

Sweetie perked her ears. “Why not?”

“She says it’s not proper conduct for a stallion, basically. Go figure.”

Apple Bloom groaned. “Well, he sure didn’t act like it. I thought he was gonna start takin’ notes on his reps and sets while he was dancing with you, Sweetie Belle. And why would we make him dance? You know you can’t rush cutie marks, and you can’t force a cutie mark for somethin’ a pony ain’t cut out for, and we all know Rumble ain’t cut out for dancing. Took us long enough to figure that sort of thing out, I’m sure Rumble knows by now.”

“No, don’t grab it by the neck!” came a cry from up above.

“I know. But we have to do something. He’s still got the same problem he started out with,” Sweetie Belle said. “He’s the best young flyer in Ponyville, and he’s not having any fun, at all. Have you seen his face lately? Sometimes, it just sinks. It’s like something sucked all his happiness out. He doesn’t even have any friends he can talk to. No offense, Diamond Tiara.”

Diamond pouted. “None taken. I try to talk to him, you know, but, like… he’s a pegasus, and a boy. I can’t exactly, umm, relate to him or anything. My mom doesn’t know any other ponies she likes, at least none that aren’t total jerks. If she did, I’d introduce him myself.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually. If we could get him a friend he can talk to, that would make him feel a lot better.” Sweetie Belle put a hoof to her chin and pondered. “Maybe he’s not having any fun because there’s no one to play with, not the way he’d like to.”

“Get that tail out of your mouth!”

Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes. “Umm, maybe you haven’t noticed, Sweetie Belle, but there aren’t a lot of serious flyers in town, period. If you have to go find a boy, you have to look really hard in the first place, seeing as they're all in their own little clubs or scouts troupes or whatever. And if you have to go find a boy who’s anything like Mister Hurricane up there, you’re gonna have a bad time. I mean, really, where are we gonna find another boy who’s super dedicated, practically acts like a grownup, but still gets ignored all the time?”

Sweetie Belle conceded the point. “Yeah, I can’t think of anypony, either.”

“Sweetie Belle!” 

Sweetie snapped her head around at the call. “That’s my mom. Thanks again for the invite, Diamond Tiara. And happy birthday.”

Apple Bloom shook her head, aghast. “Wait, birthday? That’s the occasion?”

Diamond smiled nervously. “Yeah. It’s only next week, though. But my mom and dad wanted the party this week, before they left on their business trip.”

Apple Bloom flinched. “They're leaving you?”

“Only for a couple of days. I can get a foalsitter, no problem. I just want the party to be nice, try and make up for, you know, everything.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw needed a moment to pick itself up after that. “Oh, gosh. I’ll be sure to get ya somethin’ nice, then.”

Diamond winced. “Please don’t. My mom doesn’t want me accepting gifts from ponies with less money than me. Which is, like, everypony from around here.”

“Oh, I can work around that, don’t you fret.”





With everything going on, Sweetie Belle had almost forgotten tonight was her big night. After her mother had picked her up, it had been a rush to eat dinner, get dressed, and get on a chariot to Canterlot.

Tonight she would finally be able to observe the Canterlot elite in their natural habitat. Without any national crises pending. Hopefully. And with a properly trained, experienced and, most importantly, fabulously dressed guide, of course. 

“Now then, darling, remember what I said?” Rarity asked, carefully checking her long blue dress. Canterlot’s streets and buildings were always clean, but a girl’s got to be careful, after all. 

Sweetie Belle was too busy taking in the sights and sounds of the welcome hall to notice, not to mention being careful not to get her matching dress dirty. “What?”

“Remember what I said, Sweetie Belle? About tonight?”

Sweetie Belle thought long and hard. “Umm, don’t be loud while you’re in the audience, don’t distract the other ponies.”

“And most importantly?” Rarity asked as they entered. 

“Don’t use any magic when the Dance of the Falling Leaves comes along, I know.”

“Exactly. It’s a very complicated dance, and it looks very dangerous, but there’s a safety pony in the background. You don’t want to interrupt their performance.”

“I won’t.”

The mare and filly took a seat in a high box, and Sweetie Belle took the opportunity to read the program before the lights became too dim. Tonight was a very special show at the Canterlot Opera: the Faerie Wars. It was a mix of ballet and more abstract dancing, at least that’s how Sweetie Belle understood it. The story, as a lot of pony stories were, was about such civilised and friendly but tragically different and xenophobic factions getting embroiled in a war, the very land almost getting reduced to a desert waste, and the eventual resolution through friendship and harmony to find a lasting peace and power some sort of magical artefact that blew away all the evil and instantly restored all the damage the war had done. 

Pony writers tended to rehash that one a lot for some reason. 

The performance would be done by half a dozen different dancing schools from Canterlot, according to the program, some of them competitive dancers, even. Apparently that had something to do with how the schools and theatres worked, and how talent agents tended to judge individual performance, she didn’t catch the details. Something about preliminary rankings in the circuit and scholarships and contacts and whatnot. Such things were Rarity’s fare, not Sweetie Belle’s.

Sweetie Belle wasn’t here strictly for the dancing. While she loved the theatre almost as much as her sister did, her eye tended to go more towards music, song, and story, especially nowadays. She kept catching herself stopping her ears from twitching, now that she had her cutie mark: always some detail she caught, some little titbit that she might use in her own works if she could just find the right place for it. And she still wanted to make her own shows one day. 

What better place to be in, then, than the seat of the noble Equestrian culture?

The show itself was, in a word, riveting. Fillies in shiny and colourful but oh so tight-looking get-ups danced and pranced around the stage, setting the scene, and once all the factions were introduced, the conflict began. 

That’s when Sweetie Belle saw them. 

Two Earth pony fillies, one a light pink and one more of a burgundy, and a celestial white unicorn. All three were taller than the others, dressed in tight ballet get-ups that showed off their hips and cutie marks, which happened to be dancing shoes for all three. They entered with all the pomp and fanfare of a Princess, and judging by the skirts, they were playing some important ponies. Their motions were more complicated than those of the younger fillies, as well; more jumps and twirls, more aggressive leaps at one another. 

“Hey, I know those girls,” she whispered. 

“The Faerie Queens?” Rarity asked. “Where do you know them from?”

“Those are the Slipper girls. They’re Diamond Tiara’s friends.”

“Oh. Well, I can see why the Riches would consort with them. The Queens have a very advanced routine for little fillies. They must have a high status in these circles.”

Sweetie Belle nodded. “Look at their legs. Those jumps.”

“Hmm, they’ve clearly had ballet training.”

“But I thought this was an opera?”

“It’s a mixed style, Sweetie Belle. Now hush.”

Sweetie Belle fell silent. On stage, the Queens danced around each other, with the lesser faeries mimicking the conflict about something or other, Sweetie Belle couldn’t quite tell. It was either because the little six-year-old fillies in the striped leotards couldn’t find enough honey for the ten to twelve-year-olds in the bathing suits, or because the thirteen-year-old(-ish) Slipper girl with the green wings had eaten the last tomato. 

Pony theatre was confusing like that sometimes.

But then, at the height of the conflict, the little fillies and the teenagers cleared the stage, and a hushed silence fell over the hall. 

“Here it comes,” Rarity said. “The land is dying, the trees are withering. Now comes the Dance of the Falling Leaves.”

Entering stage left, there was a filly wearing a pink leotard, and a pink tutu made up to look like an upside-down rose flower: the Rose Faerie. She was covered head to tail, even the hairs of her tail were wrapped up in a white bag of some sorts, with fake roses pinned along its length. As for her face, that was covered by a mask that erased her features and left mere black slits for her eyes. Still, she looked to be about Sweetie Belle’s age, going by her size. 

Sweetie Belle took a closer look with the special binoculars Rarity had brought. “Why is she covered up like that?”

“It’s tradition.” Rarity whispered. “These aren’t main characters, but they represent higher powers, so their faces are covered. Makes it more abstract, you see. It’s a whole different genre, really, part of it is old unicorn culture. Dancers who are moving up the ranks in society perform in this style: fully covered, so they cannot be recognised or judged by their family ties, only by their performance. There’s a lot of matchmaking going on in the background, you see. It prevents discrimination. Sort of.”

That gave Sweetie Belle an idea. 

Matchmaking, huh? Maybe if Rumble met one of those girls, he might hit it off.

As if in reply to her ponderings, entering stage right, there came the Willow Faerie. This one was dressed in black, also covered head to tail, her identity completely erased by the tight suit that hugged her girlish thighs and her taut stomach. There was, however, one thing that was not covered on this filly: her wings. They were green, and covered in glitter. That bag containing her tail was white, with grey streaks along the length and more glitter applied liberally to the whole thing. Like the Rose Faerie, the tail bag was long enough to reach the ground. 

“A pegasus filly? It's not a pair of unicorns doing this?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, the Willow Faerie is always played by a pegasus. You’ll see in a moment. Wait for the glowing to start.”

“Glowing?”

Rarity nodded. “It’s an aerial performance, darling; fillies her age, well, your age, can’t do this sort of thing on their own. I’m surprised they’re not using adult dancers for this, actually.”

The two Faeries circled around and danced in an intricate rhythm. The music built up. 

“I don’t see any glow.”

“Just wait. Any second now, darling.”

“Whoa. Are they-”

“No, it’s probably just somepony who can hide their magic very well. Umm, they wouldn’t… they couldn’t-oh... Oh my.”

Sweetie Belle’s jaw dropped.

But so did everypony else’s, so at least she was following the trend for once. 





With the show over, Rarity and Sweetie Belle made their way to the main hall to mingle with both the performers and the rest of the audience. 

But not without some warnings, naturally.

“Now, refresher course: you’re going to be dealing with high-society ponies. They are all important in their own way, and if you are to interact with them, you must appear important as well,” Rarity explained.

“But I’m only nine.”

“A prince in diapers is still a prince, Sweetie Belle. Importance and accomplishment are not the same thing, not here. There are rules to respect. For example, if they ask ‘Who might this be?’ then they’re asking me, and they expect me introduce you. However, if anyone asks ‘And who are you, little girl?’ or something like that, then they are addressing you, specifically, and you are expected to answer. You’ll be judged based on that answer, and I’ll be judged based on your ties to me.”

Sweetie Belle gulped. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“You can if you know the tricks to it. I had to learn it on my own, but you get to have a big sister with some experience." Rarity said with a wink. "Always remember that high society ponies care about two things: who you are and what you are. You are Sweetie Belle, you are my sister, and that’s who you are. But you’ve also done some important things, giving you the right to some titles.”

“So I should call myself Lady Belle now?”

“No, not like that. Like those girls we just saw. According to the program, their names are Rose Petal and Willow Bark, that is who they are. And they can do a very advanced dance. So what does that make them? Very high-level dancers that demand the appropriate respect.”

“Oh, so it’s like bragging,” Sweetie Belle concluded.

“Exactly, just slightly more polite, darling. Slightly. So, on the off chance someone asks you who you are, you first say your name, and before they can say anything else, you throw in an accomplishment, like you writing plays or carrying the flag at the Equestria Games. That establishes your status: who you are, what you are, and where you stand as a result. You don’t ask for their standing, though: if they wish to remind you, they’ll tell you about their own rank in conversation.”

“Got it.”

They made it to the hall. All around, waiters carried snacks and glasses of wine and fruit juice, depending on the needs and age of whoever was around. 

“Rarity! So glad you could make it.”

The voice immediately made Sweetie Belle’s ears twitch. It was deep, forceful, but gentle. And above all, it was masculine. It was the sort of voice that could make every chicken in the Royal Hennery spontaneously lay an egg at the merest word. 

When she saw the source of the voice, her heart skipped a beat. It was a unicorn stallion with an immaculate white coat, feathers trimmed to form a neat wave pattern around his hooves, and a blue mane and tail that sparkled in the light. He had a short moustache, as well as a monocle on his left eye. More than that, though, he was huge. He rose a full head above Rarity in size, his chest alone looked big enough to weather a storm, he positively dwarfed Sweetie Belle in comparison. His hooves were massive, his arms and legs were almost like tree trunks. He must have been the size of Big Macintosh, maybe slightly bigger. Was that even possible? Even her father wasn’t that large in comparison. 

The way he moved and talked, though, felt familiar somehow. 

“Fancy Pants, darling.” Rarity kissed the stallion on the cheeks thrice, but he went for a fourth, in accordance with the customs of his ancestors, rather than hers. They didn’t so much kiss, either, as much as they pushed their cheeks together and kissed the air next to them. “How have you been?”

Fancy Pants chuckled, and he kept his chin angled down in a very particular, aristocratic way, that struck Sweetie Belle as either deliberate to follow etiquette, or a bad habit that he really should see a chiropractor about. “Oh, the usual hubbub of painters and writers and actors trying to make their mark on Canterlot. Not a lot of talent lately, but a lot of promise, at least. And that’s more than anyone can ask for, I suppose. Speaking of talent and promise, who have you brought with you?”

Sweetie Belle thought for a moment, but took that question to mean it was aimed at Rarity, so Sweetie had to stay quiet, which she did.

“This is my little sister, Sweetie Belle.”

“Ah, yes, I remember seeing you at the flagbearer competition. And at the Equestria Games not too long afterwards. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He nodded in greeting. 

Sweetie Belle trembled before him. There was something in his voice, she could feel it: a sense of calm authority, a weight behind him that he could crush her under at a moment’s notice. 

“Pleased to meet you, too, Mister Fancy Pants, sir.” She nodded back and stifled a gulp. 

“So, what did you think of the show?” he asked. 

“Oh, just lovely,” Rarity said. “The bees and faeries never missed a beat, and the Queens, well…”

Fancy Pants turned his head towards the girls who were only now entering, no doubt needing some time to change out of their costumes and into their more formal dresses. “The Slippers, yes. They’re very good at what they do.”

“So were Willow and Rose, sir,” Sweetie Belle offered. 

“Hmm? Oh, yes, obviously. They’ve been making waves ever since their début. Quite the little acrobats, those two. Didn't think they'd be doing something this advanced so soon, though. Seems like only yesterday they were doing the Starstruck Tango.”

“Do you know, by any chance, where are they now? Are they going to join us, in masks?” Sweetie Belle asked. 

“I doubt it. Those fillies never show to after-events like these, probably can’t take the social pressure just yet. Can’t say I blame them, at that age. If you're not born into it, it takes a good mentor to prepare you, especially if you have to do this regularly. Why do you ask?”

“No particular reason. I was just hoping to talk to them.”

“Sweetie Belle has written a few stories and plays of her own. And she’s tried her hoof at dressmaking.”

He cocked his head. “Really, now?”

Sweetie Belle turned her eyes away and idly kicked the ground. “Yes, sir. I’m not very good at it, though.”

He held a hoof up like a teacher would, wiggling it to correct her. “Ah, ah, not very good yet, little girl. And neither is anyone when they start. I suppose, if you wish to make some liaisons in the circuit, as it were, you could always try arranging a meeting via proxy.”

Sweetie Belle gave him the most delicate and ladylike answer she could muster. “Lehuh? I haven’t gotten that far in French yet.”

Fancy turned and pointed to a slenderly built whitish pink unicorn mare. “Ask their teacher, Missus Swirl over there. The aspiring aristo’s never shy away from flaunting their skills, what.”

“Can we?” Sweetie Belle asked. 

Rarity rolled her eyes. “I suppose we must. Thank you, Fancy Pants.”

“You’re quite welcome. Don’t wander off too far, now; I have some friends who’ve been dying to meet Sapphire Shores’ favorite dressmaker,” Fancy Pants said loud enough for other ponies around them to hear and turn their heads.

Sweetie Belle felt her heart finally stopping its tapdance routine in her chest. “That was Fancy Pants?” she whispered. 

“Hmm? Yes, that was him. Quite the authority around these parts, knows just about anyone who’s anyone in arts, dance, song, he’s even on speaking terms with some of the Wonderbolts. Exuberantly wealthy, too; he owns a few businesses here in Canterlot, inherited and built. You'll be hard-pressed to find any pony brave enough to disagree with him.”

“Wow.” 

It only now dawned on Sweetie Belle why Fancy Pants’ demeanour was so familiar. Rumble tried to be just like that: calm, collected, gentle, but powerful. 

So that’s what he means when he says he wants to be a Wonderbolt stallion.

No wonder Diamond’s mom likes him. 

The pair caught Missus Swirl in the middle of a well-earned drink. “Bonsoir, mesdemoiselles, que puis-je faire pour vous?”

Rarity blinked in confusion for the slightest moment. 

“Bonsoir. Pourriez-vous nous dire quelque chose de vos students?”

Missus Swirl chuckled heartily. “Etudiants, little filly, the word is ‘étudiants’. But I must confess, I am impressed. It’s not often I hear a marshland accent." She turned her eyes to Rarity. "You look familiar. You are from Ponyville, I take it?”

“Yes,” Rarity said. “I am Rarity; I’m a fashion designer here in Canterlot, as well as in Ponyville. I did the costumes for Sapphire Shores’ latest tour.”

“Ah, yes, now I recall. Lovely work, my dear. And who are you, little girl, to be speaking French with such a distinct accent already?”

Sweetie Belle braced herself. She couldn’t mess this up. Not for her sister. Not for Rumble.

“My name is Sweetie Belle, Miss. I’m an aspiring playwright, and I was one of the flagbearers for Ponyville at the Equestria Games this year.”

“Hmm, were you, now? And you wish to know about my students out of, ah, professional interest, I take it? You’re welcome to ask them.” The doe-ish mare gestured to the trio of fillies who were entertaining some rich-looking colts. “Any friend of Fancy Pants is a friend of mine.”

“It’s not them I mean, Ma’am. I mean Willow and Rose,” Sweetie Belle said. 

Swirl nodded. “Ah. Not much to say about them, I fear. They’re very dedicated to their craft, very capable for their age, or by any standard, for that matter.”

“They do not socialise yet?” Rarity asked. 

“Non, I’m afraid they never show to these after-events. They are not yet ready, at least their families don’t think so.”

“Umm…” Sweetie Belle looked up at her sister for clarification.

“It means they’re not of noble birth themselves, and their family doesn’t want them to mingle with the nobles until they are certain they can measure up. That’s probably why they dance in that style in the first place.”

“Indeed,” Swirl said. “But it’s not just that: masked style suits them better, physically, I mean. Rose and Willow are fine performers, but they are not socialites. More raw power than elegance, if you catch my drift. They are not trained in etiquette yet, and it doesn’t come naturally to them as it does to proper dancers, so they require more grooming before their families will allow it.”

“Would it be possible to arrange a meeting with them?” Rarity asked before Sweetie Belle could. “A private one?”

“Why would you want that? Hoping to make connections early on, little girl?” Swirl smirked. She'd caught the twitch in Sweetie's expression, surely. 

Sweetie Belle nodded sheepishly. “Yes, Ma’am. But not for me; for a friend. Very talented, very dedicated, but umm…”

“Having trouble socialising, I take it?”

“Well, yes. I was hoping maybe your dancers-”

“Oh, Rose and Willow are not dancers, ma petite: they are aerial performers. The curriculum is similar, but different, so the title they wear is different. And the insurance is very different as well, obviously.”

“Well, that’s the thing. My friend can dance really well, but he keeps insisting he’s not a dancer, either. He’s always saying he wants to be a Wonderbolt and-”

“Oh, your friend is a pegasus?" Missus Swirl interrupted. "A, ah, high flyer, as they say?”

Sweetie nodded eagerly. “Yes, Ma’am. Very good flyer, exceptionally strong. He can already do Wonderbolts level manoeuvres, like the pony glove catch. Wingpower seven. And he's in my class, Ma'am, same age.”

Swirl quirked an eyebrow. “His wingpower is seven? Average or maximum?”

“I think his highest was around eight, but that was in a group. And he wasn’t sure about his measurements then. But he trained to get seven, easy, so I guess it’s his average now?”

Swirl nodded knowingly. “He’s maxed out, then. Any more wingpower on such a frame and that little boy body would crack.”

“That's what I keep hearing. But I'm not a pegasus, as you can see, so I can't really tell. And the other pegasi in town, in my class, I mean, aren't at that high a level yet, so he doesn't have much to compare to. Except maybe your Willow, if you catch my drift.”

“Yes, I think I see what you mean. Willow is a prospective Wonderbolt as well, actually.”

Rarity quirked an eyebrow. “Really? You can do that from... well...”

Missus Swirl chuckled. “Indeed. It's part of pegasus history, in fact. When the Wonderbolts were in the early stages of their formation, when they started to pull away from the Royal Guard, some of the first recruits were drafted from these very halls. Dancing, you see, it has some advantages for fitness, for combat readiness. You have to understand, pegasus magic, it works differently from unicorn magic. Our magic is strongest when we are stationary, when we are calm and concentrating. Pegasus magic relies on motion. For pegasi, the best showponies tend to be the mightiest wizards, if pegasi were wizard material to begin with. A lot of them prefer, ah, what's the word... I heard a fine description for it passing by an Ogres and Oubliettes game at the park the other day... what was it? Multi-tasking?”

“Multi-classing?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Yes, that's the one: multi-classing. The Wonderbolts recruit from diverse backgrounds, so aspiring recruits try to diversify. Jean-Colt Van Dam took ballet lessons, so did Arncolt Schwarzenschulter.”

That clicked in Sweetie's mind. And Rumble is already practising trick flying and rescue flying. So that's why he's doing so many things at once. I wonder what else those girls do, then.

“Huh. Van Dam and Schwarzenschulter, ballet? But they're so... bulky,” Rarity noted. 

Swirl nodded and took another sip of her drink. “That's part of the reason they did it. Many smaller muscles need to be strengthened for intensive stuntwork, and the balancing ones, the core, need to be conditioned. Pegasi, as a rule, do not make good dancers, but they make excellent aerial performers. Just their instincts, I suppose.”

“So... Willow wants to be a Wonderbolt, too, and your school helps with that?”

The mare chuckled. “Not to toot my own horn, but yes, on both counts. These sorts of shows are a good way of making oneself known in high society, as I'm sure your sister can attest to. There's bound to be a Wonderbolt or two present here tonight, but I wouldn't be able to spot them out of their uniforms. Mostly it's the higher ranks that come here; the ones with the established connections.”

Sweetie's ears twitched. This would be perfect. “Do you teach boys, by any chance? If my friend wanted to try out for your school, I mean, could he?”

That got a nervous smile out of the pink mare. “Well now, I try to be inclusive, so yes, I'll take a boy student if he can cut the mustard but-” she cast a glance towards the Slipper girls. “As I'm sure you've noticed, the girls run this show. What is his cutie mark?”

Sweetie cringed. “Umm, he doesn't have it yet, Ma'am.”

“Then I would certainly think twice before letting him into my class. Boys do not come into dance classes lightly. Girls will do it as a hobby, as a matter of status, but for boys, it is a calling. They'll only join after they get their cutie mark, when they are certain it is what they want. Unless, of course, they're already showing great promise as dancers, if they’re certain their cutie mark will be in dancing. Does that sound like your friend?”

There, Sweetie Belle had to concede. “No, Ma’am, he’s definitely more of a flyer. It’s just that he’s the only one in town who’s that dedicated to flying. Since your Willow appears to be of a high level as well…”

“They should get along swimmingly, I see your point. You might be right on that note: Willow is very intense. Too much so, sometimes, but such is the way of things. I’d gladly pass on the message, but I cannot say whether it’ll amount to anything.”

“Why not?”

“Try and understand, little girl, this part of society is very exclusive. And even on the lower rungs, in the world of art, image is everything. Individuals trying to gain influence in these circles must prove themselves time and time again, and the slightest error can lead to ruin. Again, as I’m sure your sister can attest to.”

Rarity shuddered. “Indeed.”

“But the same holds true for families. Families trying to gain fame, trying to make the right contacts to negotiate larger deals, they must be connected to at least one pony with a good name. It’s easier build up with children than it is with adults.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“Think of it this way, little girl. What would you rather be: a pony who is famous for the plays she wrote, or a pony who is famous because she’s the mother of the wife of a prince?”

“Famous for writing a play, of course.”

“But what if most common ponies like your play, and somepony important hated that play?”

Sweetie Belle fell silent. 

“There’s your answer. Fame by association is a very real and very powerful thing, ma petite. It is not enough to be famous: you must be famous with the right ponies. Association is easier to build up than fame by accomplishment, and once it grants you access and connections, it's a far smaller loss, should it fade by shame. After all, the shame wouldn't be yours. Family can take credit for accomplishment and blame the child for its own failure. It's a harsh system, but it persists, still, and my girls live by its rules, for better or worse. Willow isn’t that hung up on it, but Rose certainly is. And they stick together, those two. You’re not going to get an invitation to one without the other tagging along, I assure you.”

“That’s okay, I’d love to meet them both. But would they accept? Their family, I mean?”

“It would depend on what I tell them the invitation is for. What is it you want, specifically?”

Sweetie Belle looked to Rarity again, who nodded. 

“Specifically, to make friends. With a pony who is looking to become a Wonderbolt one day, and who doesn’t know anypony else who does. Somepony to play with, who appreciates the value of mutual respect, of discipline. Somepony who can keep a secret.”

Swirl’s ears twitched. 

Sweetie Belle smiled petulantly. “I mean, Willow and Rose, playing a Willow Faerie and a Rose Faerie? Those aren’t their real names, right?”

“Their names are perfectly ordinary. What makes you think they’re not?”

“They both cover up during their performance. You can’t see them gritting their teeth or shutting their eyes. They could have been crying on stage and no one would have seen it. Plus, you obviously think they need to be kept away from the more, umm, non-fatty? Sickly?”

Rarity thought for a moment. “Unsavoury, darling.”

“Unsavoury. They need to be kept from the more unsavoury parts of high society. So of course they don’t use their real names.”

Swirl turned to Rarity then. “You have a very astute little sister, Miss Rarity.”

Sweetie Belle would have replied, but the mare wasn’t talking to her. She couldn’t mess up now.

“Yes, she is. Am I to assume, then, that your two little stars are kept out of, ah, circulation, on purpose? For their own sake, I mean, not just their families? That was the main objection, was it not?”

It finally dawned on Sweetie Belle what the issue was: the matchmaking. Would Rumble even be allowed near those two fillies? He was still only a commoner, after all. Diamond’s mom liked him enough, but was it right to mention that here?

“Currently, yes. Their family doesn’t want them out in the open, but they do need the practice. I’ve been meaning to put them out there for some time; other ponies have been asking for weeks, and after tonight’s stunt I’m going to start running out of excuses. You must understand, I take good care of the fillies in my class. I never let them consort with a boy unless I am absolutely certain of his pedigree.”

Sweetie Belle looked up at her sister again.

“She means that it's very easy for a girl to fall in with the wrong crowd if she's trying to make the right connections. Some boys take unfair advantage of that.”

Swirl chuckled. “Never mind the boys, Miss Rarity. The girls are worse. Boys make offence a case of honour, of directness. You see them coming, and they'll follow a code. Boys in these circles follow rules. Girls, however, have no such compunctions. Well, except the little fencers, of course, but we all know how they settle their affairs. The bottom line is: I don't let my dancers anywhere near a boy that might manipulate them, or one they might manipulate. Fine, upstanding young stallions, that is all. Anything less and the families would have my head.”

“Oh, okay. You’d want to meet my friend before you let him meet Rose and Willow?”

Swirl smiled, thinking. “I suppose, seeing as you’re only looking for another high-level pegasus, if Willow were to meet another pegasus of equal stature, it wouldn't require any intervention from me, especially if it’s only a social call. I’ll take your word on it, and your sister’s. I’m sure Rose wouldn’t mind terribly, either. I’ll pass on the message for you. Just name the time and place you'd wish to meet.”

“Umm...” Sweetie Belle hesitated. 

“My atelier would be fine,” Rarity said. “Any moment that is convenient for them. You know Canterlot Boutique, yes?”

Swirl nodded with an impish smile. “The home of the Princess Dress and that lovely Luna ensemble. I know where it is, darling. I'll be sure to send my little performers your way.”

“Thank you very much,” Sweetie Belle said.

“You are most welcome, little girl. I should hope they rub off on each other in a good way.”
> Response Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Girls, girls!” Sweetie Belle called out as Scootaloo and Apple Bloom went up the path towards school. 

“What's the matter?”

“I have great news, you won't believe it!”

“Rainbow Dash is finally getting her medal?”

Sweetie Belle almost felt her mane deflate at that. “Umm, no, Scootaloo.”

Apple Bloom gasped. “Princess Celestia's gonna tear down Twilight's castle?”

And there came that familiar confusion. She loved her friends for that: the randomness kept her on her toes. Or it would have, if she had any toes. “Why would she do that?”

“Well, it's against public ordinance and housing regulations, ain't it?”

Sweetie Belle groaned. “Is this about the water main thing again? You do know your family can't sue her for that, right?”

“We'll see what the Equestrian Appeals Court has to say about that; it's a legitimate grievance and I have the right to file it. Besides, Twilight ain't had any time for us ever since she started takin' orders from her table. It's bad enough she does, but she's dragged my sister along in it, too. And yours, and even Rainbow Dash.”

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “Twilight does not take orders from a table, Apple Bloom. It was given to her by the Tree of Harmony.”

Apple Bloom squinted. “So she's takin' orders from a tree.”

Again, Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “Well, yes. But it's a magical tree that knows whenever there's a friendship problem. It's destiny and stuff.”

“Uhuh. It's a magical tree that can't be bothered to, you know, talk, or call the Royal Guard, or any police, or find a wanted criminal, or stop that criminal from travellin' through time using the same table it's using to tell Twilight where to go, and that's just what she's admittin' to. And even that’s a violation of ponies’ privacy. That castle oughtta get torn down by now.”

“I thought you liked that castle?” Scootaloo asked.

“I did at first, but now it's just so tacky. And have you seen Twilight lately? She's gone and started callin' herself the 'Princess of Friendship' now, when she used to be all ‘I ain’t more important than any other pony’. That place ain't couth, I tell ya. Besides, rustic interior décor is makin' a comeback this year. Crystals are so last season now.”

Sweetie Belle let out one of the Rarity-grunts she'd been practising on. It came out sounding like a very good impression. “Ugh. You need to stop reading Fetlocks and Farmhouses Magazine.”

“How do you know you don't need to start readin' it, Sweetie Belle?”

“Are you girls arguing again?” Rumble asked. Exactly when he had appeared, they couldn't tell. 

Sweetie Belle froze, and part of her wondered if maybe they couldn't fit the boy with a harness, like they did with flying white-tail deer. The jingling bells would at least announce his presence. Then again, he’d probably look weird with that many straps. She filed that thought away for future pondering. “Umm... no?”

“It sure sounded like it. What's going on?”

“Sweetie Belle said she had big news. But it’s not about Twilight's castle. So what is it about?” Apple Bloom turned to her friend and smiled brightly, as she always did when she’d managed to get the last word in in a Cutie Mark Crusader Argument (‘Yay’ optional). It wasn’t a fair victory, but then she wasn’t a professional cutie marked arguer, so she took it. 

Rumble's ears perked. Sweetie Belle winced and averted her eyes. After her encounter with Fancy Pants last night, she couldn't bear the idea that she'd treat Rumble with any less respect than that. She knew that’s what he wanted, deep down, to be regarded like a Wonderbolt stallion. But he was so girly, he could never put that much power into his voice or his body language. Even a mare would be more intimidating than him, with his smooth, almost non-existent filly-ish chin, and his slender build. He really needed a cutie mark to stand out: something flashy, something imposing. Something that could compensate for the rest of him. 

Barring that, he could do with some pointers from girls who had experience with boys like him. 

Fortunately, right as Sweetie Belle was about to make something up, the bell sounded.

“Girls!” Miss Cheerilee called out. “Class is starting!”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo turned towards the building. Sweetie Belle took a step, then stopped and looked at Rumble, who trudged along with her, two steps behind. 

“Umm, Rumble?” she asked.

“What?”

She bit her lip. “Good luck with the show and tell today.”

He chuckled. “It's only in the last period, Sweetie Belle.”

“I know. But still, good luck. In case I forget.”

“Thanks.”





Conspiring used to be so much easier, Sweetie Belle thought. Ponies didn't know the girls well enough to be aware of their schemes, they underestimated what resources the girls could muster, but most importantly: they didn't have as many friends. Strange how their expanded social circle was a hindrance now. 

Rumble was always around them now, or rather around Scootaloo. Or rather, Scootaloo was always around him, asking for more demonstrations of how to do a tumble in mid-air, or how to make a tornado. 

Because Scootaloo wanted to surprise Rainbow Dash sometime by making a tornado. 

Rumble, however, did not feel comfortable teaching Scootaloo how to make a tornado. 

Rumble was a smart kid like that. 

But at any rate, their newfound amigo, compadre, and laundry list of synonyms courtesy of their chicken-winged filly-shaped thesaurus, was always too close for Sweetie Belle to speak to them in private. She found herself forced to wait until after school.

Although, when his turn came to do a show and tell, she didn't mind the delay so much. 

Rumble was, after all, a nice-looking boy, in every sense of the word. He looked girly, sure, but at least he didn't look unkempt or sloppy. His dark grey mane was always combed back neatly, his hooves and tail groomed to aerodynamic perfection, and today was no exception. She kept forgetting to ask him about what conditioner he used, since whatever it was made his coat look shiny and soft. 

“Okay, class, that just leaves us with enough time for the show and tell. Rumble, if you please,” Cheerilee said.

Rumble hopped out of his seat and floated over his desk, landing in front of the class with hardly a sound. He had a pair of rocks in his right hoof. He took one and held it up. “I brought my wingstone for show and tell today. It's a grooming implement for pegasi,” he narrated, clearly a memorised text. 

Cheerilee nodded and jotted down some notes about Rumble's performance. He was being graded for this, after all.

Sweetie Belle's eyes darted from her teacher to the boy, and she judged him in a reflex. No stage fright, that was a plus. No stuttering, good look at his audience, he was a natural. Then again, chances were his grades were pretty good, too, considering everything else they knew about him. It would be strange if he was that intense and dedicated about everything, yet failed at schoolwork.

Or it would make perfect sense, if he was aspiring to be like Rainbow Dash. Sweetie Belle pushed that thought away. 

“This is what we pegasus ponies use to sharpen our wings. It's not really a rock, but more like a soap block, specially made from tree ashes and shavings, and then mashed together like a diamond. The exact recipes for making wingstones are tribal and trade secrets; the Wonderbolts even have their own kind to make their wings sharp enough to cut dragon scales.”

Sweetie Belle gulped. She remembered Spike's first birthday in Ponyville all too well. Poor guy, she never did find out if that had hurt at all. She couldn't imagine it didn't.

“Most other ponies use this: a hoofstone.” He got out another stone. “This is what you use to treat your hooves and make them smooth.”

An awkward silence fell over the class. Sweetie's ears twitched at the tension in the air.

Rumble apparently noticed. “Umm, anyway, since these stones are made from compacted plants, there's a direction you need to keep track of. Wingstones are brushed along the feathers, never against the grain.” He started running the wingstone over his right wing. “You only ever stroke the feathers or nails, never, ever put it on your hair or your frogs. You could burn yourself if you stroke your coat with this, you wouldn't even notice until after a few hours. Make sure you go over every single feather you can reach, and always check in between. That gets rid of any dirt that might get stuck. You never know what you get on your wings, or in them. Even really small stuff, like dust, you can get out pretty easily with this and a shower.”

He put it down and took the hoofstone. “Hoofstones are more for polishing. The thing you gotta remember about these is: they're not for filing. You always want to go around with these, and only one stroke at a time, never go back and forth.”

He stuck out his arm and ran the second stone over the edge of his hoof, like a wetstone on a sword. A few rubs, and his hoof was clean as a whistle. “After that, obviously, you want to get a rag and give it a shine.” He thought for a second. “And remember to wash the stone, so any dirt it caught doesn’t get rubbed back in next time you use it.”

“That was very good, Rumble,” Cheerilee said. 

“Yeah, where can you get stones like that?” Twist asked.

The boy grimaced, taken aback. “Umm, I got this wingstone at the Trader's Market, and the spa sells hoofstones, but-”

“Ooh, that'd be great to pretty up before a dance,” Dinky Do said. “I can never get my hooves to look that nice.”

Rumble blushed. “Umm, but-”

“Do you think you could help me out with that sometime?” Zippoorwil piped up. “My puppy always gets slobber on my hooves, and my mom won’t teach me how to pretty up yet.”

Rumble snorted and pouted his lips together. For just a split second, Sweetie Belle could swear he was doing his best impression of Rarity’s angry pout. It was that odd expression that hovered somewhere between ‘Aww, no more cake?’ and ‘Urge to kill rising.’ Then, much like Rarity would, he erupted. “I am not prettying up!”

The class fell silent. 

The boy sighed. “Now, if you don't mind, I wasn't done with my show and tell.”

Sweetie Belle furrowed her brow. Was that a twinkle in his left eye? Was he about to cry?

He got right back into character, narrating the text he’d memorised. “Personal grooming is very important to a pony, even more so to a trained athlete. We ponies can get at least sixty diseases in our hooves alone, that's why we invented this sort of thing. And pegasus ponies, the ones who go at high altitudes and high speeds, they need to take good care of their wings.”

Cheerilee took note again.

“The thing you have to remember is: a lot can go wrong, and sometimes it's something small that can trip you up.” He smiled at Scootaloo. “If you're diving to save a pony, you can't afford to get distracted by an itch because you have wing lice. If you have to work the land, if you pull a plow all day?” He looked at Apple Bloom. “No matter how strong a pony is, they're weak somewhere. So, what I'm trying to say is: if you ever want to get into competition, like rodeos or flying contests?” He gestured to both Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. “Don't forget to groom. Practice makes you better, food keeps you fuelled, but grooming keeps you healthy and looking good.” He jutted his chest forward, just a tiny hint of pride returning to him. ”That's my talk. Thank you. Any questions?”

Sweetie Belle squinted. “Why do you need to sharpen your wings in the first place?”

“Huh?”

She pointed to his wings. “I mean, I get that you don't want to get bugs or anything, and that stone thingie must have herbs in it to keep those out, but why sharpen them? Do you need that when you get in a fight, or what?”

He had to take a moment to think, but he gave her a genuine smile when he found the right words. “Oh, that's for aerodynamics and magic, mostly. Some flight techniques involve pegasus magic, and you want to be able to cut the air as you go. It's also good when you have to get past clouds. You know, if you're in a rainstorm and you want to get above the cloud ceiling. It can get pretty dense, and you really don't wanna bounce down to the ground in a storm.”

Cheerilee nodded again. “Anyone else have any questions?”

Dinky Do raised a hoof, and so did Zippoorwil and Twist. 

“Yes, Dinky?” 

The filly forced out a nervous smile. “Umm, I know you don't use that stuff to pretty up, but it still looks very pretty. Your hooves look really nice.”

Rumble looked down at those well-kept hooves. “Umm, thanks?”

“I’d like mine to look like yours, too,” Dinky continued. “So could you maybe show me how you do that?”

“Yeah, me too?” Twist asked.

“And me?” Zippoorwil chimed in.

Rumble rolled his eyes. “Girls, it's not a beauty thing. That’s not what these stones are for.”

“Now, Rumble,” Cheerilee said. “That's not very nice. You gave a good talk, but you can't snap at your audience like you did. And I know hoofstones; they are beauty products, first and foremost. The girls are asking for your input, and you wouldn't want to be rude, would you? I'm sure the Wonderbolts wouldn't appreciate that kind of attitude.”

Rumble's ears flattened against his head. “Sorry, Miss Cheerilee. There's not really that much to it: you just find the grain on the stone, and rub that in the direction your hooves grow. You move it in circles, not along the length. It’s like sharpening a sword.”

“And that'll make them nice and shiny?” Zippy asked.

He nodded reluctantly. “Yes, it'll make them nice and polished, and sharp.”

In the back, Snips and Snails snickered. Featherweight followed suit.

“Now, boys, what is so funny?” Cheerilee asked.

“Nothing, Miss Cheerilee,” Snails replied. 

Sweetie Belle's ears twitched. 

Cheerilee didn't buy it. “Good, because if I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you find it funny that Rumble knows how to groom. There is nothing wrong with a boy doing girl things or using beauty products. There is nothing wrong with beauty products or girl things in the first place. If anything, he should take pride in knowing about them, and you'd do well to listen.”

Rumble let his head hang, desperately trying to hide his blush and the pout that came from swallowing whatever remark he had ready. With the class turning their attention to the two unicorn colts, it worked well enough. 

“We know, Miss Cheerilee,” Snips said. “We weren't laughing at him: Rainbow Dash just flew into Twilight's castle again.”

Cheerilee went to the window. Sure enough, there were two blue legs sticking out of a crystal wall in the distance. “Oh, indeed she did. Well, never mind then, boys. Good to know that my class is so tolerant and open-minded.” She was interrupted by a ringing sound. “And there's the bell. Alright, class dismissed, everypony. See you tomorrow. And Rumble?”

“Yes, Miss Cheerilee?”

“That was a very good talk. It's nice to see a boy taking interest in these kinds of things, you have nothing to be ashamed of. No reason to be so touchy about it.”

Rumble kept his back turned to her. “Thank you, Miss Cheerilee. I'll be sure to keep it up.”





Sweetie Belle groaned when she walked through the door of Carousel Boutique. Rumble and Scootaloo would be busy with their practice for a while, still, but after that they were meeting at Twilight’s castle, leaving Rumble to train on his own. That was the plan, at least. Even with the partnered training, Scootaloo wasn't quite up to his level yet, and Rumble never deviated from his schedules. He’d be at it long after the girls left him. 

Sweetie Belle sighed. She really needed to find some way to repay him for his help. Scootaloo would still be grounded if he hadn't stepped in. Her heart ached at the thought. Her mind got stuck on these things far too often. 

“Sweetie Belle, darling!” Rarity came trotting towards her, a letter held in her magic. “I received a message for you.”

“Really? Already?” Sweetie Belle grabbed it and opened it. “That was fast.”

Dear Sweetie Belle,

We thank you for your interest in our performance. We hope you'll continue to enjoy our shows as our skills grow. 

However, at this time, we cannot in good conscience accept an invitation from you. While we would gladly accept, our families would object to such a meeting. Perhaps when we come of age, and if we should find ourselves moving in the same circles, we can arrange a meeting.

Signed,

Rose Petal and Willow Bark.

“They turned me down,” Sweetie Belle said with a sigh.

Rarity took the letter and read it. “Hmm. Well, it was worth a shot. Some ponies just stick to their circles, I guess. Not to worry, I'm sure they'll come around once you start making your own productions.”

“It's not that, Rarity, it's Rumble. I really wanted him to meet those girls. I mean...”

Rarity tilted her head. “You mean... what, darling?”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “It's not fair. He should be with his own kind, with other ponies who are super dedicated. Just some pony to compare to, to, you know...”

Rarity nodded knowingly. “To play with?”

“Yeah. Have you seen him?”

The mare walked to a nearby window and looked out. Predictably, she saw a grey dot doing flips and twirls to an audience of none, save for the orange dot trying to follow it. “Once or twice. He does tend to fly near the roads to Canterlot, after all, it's not that far from here. And Thunderlane certainly speaks highly of him. But I thought Rumble was in a sports club of sorts? Hoofball, or was it the scouts? I’m sure I heard something along those lines.”

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No, he’s not. He doesn't like hoofball or the scouts or any of that stuff. And he's too young for the flight clubs or the Junior Royal Guards.”

Rarity nodded emphatically. “Ohohoh, yes, that much I can attest to. Those clubs only take the older ones, the ones who've settled into their cutie marks.”

“The young stallions,” Sweetie concurred. “I just kinda figured it might help, you know, if he expanded his horizons. Mom's always telling me to do that, and it helps.”

Rarity nodded and looked at the letter, pensive. “Yes. It's a pity, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“It might as well be. Rumble’s not gonna get his cutie mark if he keeps up like this.”

“Oh, look who’s talking. You’re the expert on cutie marks now?” Rarity asked. 

That got Sweetie Belle to quiet down for just a second. “Well… now that you mention it, yes, actually. I know I got my cutie mark thanks to my friends. I know you got yours thanks to ponies who appreciated what you did, thanks to ponies who understood you. But I’m not a flyer like Rumble. Neither is Diamond Tiara, or Apple Bloom, or even Scootaloo. If there was anypony around who could help him like my friends helped me, he’d have gotten his cutie mark ages ago.”

“If you say so, darling. It sounds like an overly convoluted idea to me, but… if you insist, there is still one way you could meet these girls.”

“Really? How?”

“Look at the letter, darling.” With a minor mental nudge, the paper floated in front of the filly. “Do you notice anything odd about it?”

Sweetie leaned in closer and investigated the letter. “Very nice writing.” She ran a hoof over the surface. “Fancy paper, too.”

“Anything out of the ordinary?”

Another look, and she got it. “The names. It’s signed in the same writing. It was only one pony that wrote this. Maybe the girls didn't get my message. Maybe their mom or dad did, and they wrote this.” On a hunch, Sweetie Belle took the envelope and checked the back. “Wait a second. Was this delivered here or to Canterlot?”

Rarity smirked. “To here. That arrived today.”

“But Missus Swirl only knew about your Canterlot shop. We never told her this address, did we?”

“We did not. And more importantly, even if we did...”

“There's no address on this envelope, either. And no postage stamp. This wasn’t delivered by mail; somepony just dropped it here.”

“Exactly.” 

“So… that means some pony knows I'm looking for these girls, some pony who knows where Carousel Boutique is. But then they'd know where Canterlot Boutique is, too, so why not drop it there? Unless they were in a hurry, and unless...” she gasped.

Rarity nodded. “Unless it came from a local. Which would mean Rose Petal and Willow Bark, whoever they are, are Ponyville fillies.”





Sweetie Belle was distracted as she made her way through the halls of Twilight's crystal castle, still pondering the letter. Those careful lines, the squiggle of the 'r's, it certainly looked like it had been written by a pony from high society, a noble. But in Ponyville? The only nobility in town was the kind that used to wear magical jewelry, and had recently been demoted to taking orders from a tree. Or a piece of furniture, because Equestrian politics was strange like that. 

She looked up at her friends as she entered the library. With Apple Bloom wanting to do a history report, and with history being rewritten every three months – recently decreed to be 'moons' now, for some reason no one could really fathom – they figured it'd be better if they were at the source of the history rewriting, even though Apple Bloom still had a grudge against the place. That got the unicorn filly thinking: Cheerilee had barely managed to teach the kids about the time Discord ruled the land when the Crystal Empire had shown up, at which point they got to learn about all the history that place had had before its disappearance. And then apparently the Tree of Harmony had sent Starlight Glimmer and Twilight Sparkle back through time to stop poor Spike from being born, as far as Sweetie Belle understood it. 

She dearly hoped nopony close to her was due for a historian cutie mark, because that was turning out to be a surprisingly unstable line of research.

When the filly found her friends, she found them with an old picture in front of them, and a few books strewn about. Princess Twilight had her back to them, busy making her own mess at her table, so there wasn’t much protest there. The picture caught Sweetie Belle’s eyes, though. It was a group picture of Camp Friendship; she recognised Applejack and a young Countess Coloratura on the sides. 

But besides that, she recognised the boys on the picture. There were about two dozen little colts and fillies in the front, all too young and too little to have much in the way of chins or muscles, but she could still see which ones were boys and which ones were girls at a casual glance. 

For some reason, it reminded her of Fancy Pants. Her cutie mark made her head work in funny ways like that. 

She stopped that train of thought when she finally sat down. “Hey, girls. How was the flight practice?”

“Tiring,” Scootaloo groaned and wriggled her wings, while Spike ran back and forth for Twilight’s research, vials and food strewn about for some reason. “I think my flips are getting better, but it's hard to tell.”

“Rumble's not here?” Sweetie Belle asked.

Scootaloo grimaced. “Nope, he's still at his usual spot, doing his reps. Probably didn't even break a sweat flying circles around me.”

Apple Bloom looked up from her book and notes. “Aww, don't feel bad, Scootaloo: you've only been flying a little while, and Rumble's like a little Wonderbolt already. He can fly circles around anypony our age, even a couple older ponies. Besides, at least he's takin' his time to show ya while Rainbow Dash is busy.”

“Uhuh,” Sweetie said. “Speaking of which, isn't Rainbow Dash picking you up soon for more practice?”

Scootaloo stretched out like a cat, then scrunched her nose and flopped on her back. The hard floor reminded her not to do that again. “Ow! Not today. She said I needed rest, so I wouldn't wear out my wings. And Rumble said the same thing, so it must be true. Now what was the big deal? You've been dancing around talking to us about something all day, what is it?”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “You know how Rarity and me went to the opera the other night?”

Scootaloo rose back up on her hooves and arched an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“Well, there were two girls there, performing. Rose Petal and Willow Bark, a unicorn and a pegasus.  I couldn't see exactly, but they looked like they were as old as we are, as old as Rumble. And they were good, crazy good.”

Apple Bloom closed her book and sat up straight. “What are you getting at, Sweetie Belle?”Apple Bloom asked. 

“Spike?!” Twilight called out. “Do you have that recipe book there with you?”

“I thought maybe I could meet them, introduce them to Rumble,” Sweetie Belle continued, undisturbed. 

Scootaloo winced. “Why would you want to do that? You heard him: he's not a dancer.”

“No, but neither are these girls. Willow Bark is an aerial performer, she does dance-y stuff that looks like the rescue moves Rumble's been practising. And when I asked their teacher, she said that lots of athletic ponies do dance or performance on the side, to help them limber up and get their smaller muscles stronger. I thought, maybe if Rumble met those two girls, they might hit it off.”

Apple Bloom grimaced. “I don't get it. You know matchmakin' never works out for us. And besides, we got plenty of dancers in Ponyville, remember?”

The unicorn filly grah-ed. “I don't mean like that. Look, just think about it for a second. Why is Rumble always practising alone? Why doesn’t he play with other ponies?”

“Because he doesn't like being with other ponies?” Scootaloo replied. 

“Because everything normal kids do just isn't any fun for him?” Apple Bloom tried.

“Exactly. Because there's nopony else like him in town. Even us, we don't spend that much time every day doing the same thing, trying to get better. You saw him in class, on his presentation. Rumble is always under pressure, from himself. No matter what he tries to do, he's still not having any fun. He's not going to get his cutie mark if he doesn't start enjoying himself just a little. And nothing we do about that is going to help, because we’re not like that. We don’t know what it’s like for him. So why not try to get him to meet somepony who does?”

Apple Bloom sighed. “Look, Sweetie Belle, I know you mean well and all, but maybe you hadn't noticed: Rumble deals with stuff on his own. He ain't depressed, he talked out the whole Wonderbolts thing with Rainbow Dash, we don't need to meddle.”

“I'm not trying to meddle,” Sweetie Belle argued. “I'm trying to do something right. Rumble's our friend, he's helped us out. He looks out for us. Don't you think we should repay him for that? At least try to help him make some connections? I mean, he’s basically one of us, isn’t he?”

“And then some,” Apple Bloom agreed.

“Exactly. But we don't know anypony else like him. Even when he’s with us, all he can think about is his schedules. All he ever talks about is the Wonderbolts. He might as well be alone when he’s with us, and that’s not right. We should at least try to find somepony he can talk to, as a friend.”

“Spike!” Twilight yelled again. “The faerie pie isn’t rising! I need my catalysts!”

“So what are you saying? You want to get these two girls and him in the same room, and they'll just make friends, just like that?” Scootaloo asked. “And then Rumble will get his cutie mark?”

Sweetie Belle shrugged. “Maybe. That's pretty much how we became friends, isn't it? And kinda how we got our cutie marks?”

“I guess, sort of,” Scootaloo admitted. “But you don't know these girls, either. You don't know if they're like Rumble.”

“Well, they're in a dance recital, and they're really good, so they must be dedicated. And their families kind of want them to move up in high society, so they probably feel a little self-conscious about that. And they're in the same group as those Slipper girls we saw Diamond Tiara with, so they're probably used to getting upstaged and ignored. I mean, doesn't that sound kind of like Rumble?”

“She does have a point,” Apple Bloom said. “And that is the sort of pony we don't usually get around these parts. Finding a boy like that would be next to impossible. Even the colts in Tender Taps’s class aren’t like that. And we don't even know any boys who are as girly as Rumble, either.”

“Spike!” Twilight yelled yet again. “How are those magic missile muffins coming along?”

Apple Bloom continued, undistracted. “Maybe if we just found a girl who likes him, it might help him relax, too. Maybe his cutie mark is in something girly, and he just hasn’t realised it yet.”

“I'm standing right next to you, Twilight,” Spike said in the annoyed tone he’d mastered through years of arduous practice. 

“Oh, sorry, didn't notice you there.”

“It's okay; I'm used to it. You girls okay over there? I'm making mozzarella quiche and some herbal iced tea. Non-magical or military. I hope.”

Apple Bloom perked up. “Huh? Yeah, we're fine, Spike, thanks.”

Scootaloo's stomach grumbled. “I think I could do with a snack, if that's okay.”

“Comin' right up.”

Apple Bloom continued. “Anyway, those girls would be the closest thing, I guess. Even if it doesn't work out, it would help to have another high flyer around to compare notes with, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo snorted. “I'll believe that when I see it.”

Sweetie Belle winced. “Trust me. You see Willow flying, you'll believe it.”

“Okay, so what's the problem, then?”

Sweetie Belle gave them the letter. “I asked their teacher to pass on a message. This letter came in today. It came here, not Canterlot, and it doesn't have a stamp. Which means...”

Apple Bloom's eyes widened. “Hold on. You mean to tell me there are two dancers in town who are as good at dancing as Rumble is at flying, and we didn't know about it? Even after the Foal Free Press thing?”

“Aside from the dancing not really being dancing, sure looks like it. They don't use their real names for performances, because they're trying to get into high society. Something about family names, it's complicated. But the bottom line is: there are two girls in town who might relate to Rumble a little. And one of them is a pegasus filly. Another little Wonderbolt like him: she’s trying to get her level up early, too. Maybe, if Rumble had a good example to follow, he might start having some fun. You know, compare himself to somepony who's got the same big dreams, the same dedication-”

“Spike!”

“I'm in the kitchen, Twilight! Do you want the castle to burn down?!”

“It’s crystal! It can’t burn!”

“It’s tree crystal, I’m not taking any chances!”

“-but who's in a club, or a recital. Someplace where more ponies are like that, where they tell you to take it easy sometimes. Maybe he'd finally do something with no pressure on it. And maybe get his cutie mark while he's at it. That was our plan all along, wasn’t it?”

Spike came waddling back in with a plate of treats for the girls. Scootaloo got a slice of quiche and quickly dug in. “Hmm, thish ish good. Thanksh, Spike. Nishe apron, too.”

“Don't mention it.” He swiftly undid the apron. “Especially the apron. Now what did you want, Twilight?”

“I was going to tell you to go take a break; you really do work too hard, you know.”

One oddity about Twilight's castle was the acoustic quality of the place. Song and dance had a wholly different quality here. 

And the slap Spike delivered to his own forehead resonated straight down into Tartarus. “Okay. I'll be in Ponyville, then. Or better yet, Canterlot. I hear this month, Neighruto’s villain finally takes his mask off. It’s been, what, two years they’ve been fighting now? Three? You’d think knocking the mask off is the first thing you do.”

Twilight finally looked up and checked the clock. “I think you might have to wait a while for that, Spike. The next direct train to Canterlot doesn’t leave for another forty-five minutes. And you are not going anywhere if you can’t be home before dark, Mister. Not after what happened last time.”

“Aww, why does this always happen? Why can’t the Burning Scroll be in Ponyville? They’re the only ones that get the good foreign stuff.”

“I’ll fly you there when I have time. Or you can ask Fluttershy or Rainbow Dash when they go that way.”

“Sure.” He plodded off with a grumble. 

Apple Bloom pondered the matter of their would-be cutie marked friend as she examined the letter. “Hmm, so what's the plan? Do you know what they look like?”

Sweetie shook her head. “I know Rose is a unicorn filly and Willow is a pegasus filly. But other than that, nothing. They were covered head to hoof, even their tails were hidden. It could be anyone. Although… Willow’s wings were green, and glittery. Do we know any green pegasi?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “No. Nopony our age. It could have been a dye.”

“Maybe. But then it could be anypony. Any pegasus who hangs out with a unicorn.”

“Then we should start with the pegasi in town,” Scootaloo said. “Rumble and me are the only ones who fly for real, at least out in the open. There's no way anypony can hide it if they have talent. Would Tender Taps know?”

“I doubt it,” Apple Bloom said. “We mostly do tap dancing, for local stuff, showy dancing. It’s not exactly the purview of the aristocracy, if you catch my drift. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’ve never even seen a pegasus in that sorta class. But Diamond Tiara would know, we can ask her.”

Sweetie Belle gasped. “No! We can't ask Diamond Tiara.”

“Why not?”

“Because her birthday party is coming up. You know how her mom gets. And Diamond really cares about Rumble, too. If we tell her about this, she'd worry herself sick. We can't stress her out any more than she already is. Not after what happened last time we ruined her party.”

Apple Bloom nodded in agreement. “Yeah, good point. Okay, so we start with the pegasi. Who do we know that might have slipped under our sights?”

Scootaloo thought long and hard, so hard in fact that the crystals around her creaked in sympathy with the rusty cogs in her head. “We're only looking for a pegasus who hangs out with a unicorn, right?”

Sweetie Belle nodded. “Yes. Willow Bark and Rose Petal are supposed to be pretty close. So how can you tell which ponies are good dancers?”

“They dance well, duh,” Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. 

“Obviously. But aside from that?”

“It should still be pretty obvious,” Scootaloo replied. “Anyone who's faster than everypony else, anyone who's got a good sense of balance. Any little pegasus who can fly for real. Those kind of stick out.”

Apple Bloom grumbled. “That’s a pretty short list in this town. Featherweight's not it, right?”

“Of course not: we're looking for a pair of fillies, remember?” Scootaloo replied. 

“Yeah, Missus Swirl said she doesn't teach boys. Besides, Featherweight is too tall. They look like us. Same height, same age.”

Apple Bloom waved her hooves around randomly to try and get things straight in her head. “Let's just go over everypony we know and work from there. We can scratch all the boys, so that's Tender, Button, Shady, Lickety-”

“There's a boy in our class named Lickety? Eww.”

“Let's not get into the specifics of pony names, okay, Sweetie Belle?” 

“Okay. So how many pegasus girls live in Ponyville?”

Scootaloo pondered that for a moment. “Actually, I think it's only two or three, besides me. There's Dusty-”

“I don't know who that is,” Apple Bloom said.

“There's Windy-”

“Are you sure?” 

“And then there's...”

“There’s… who?”

“Zippy.”

Sweetie Belle thought it over. That last one was the only name she recognised. “Zippy? You mean Zippoorwil?”

Silence fell between the girls as they thought it over. 

“Get out,” Apple Bloom said. “You think Zippoorwil might be some awesome dancer in Canterlot?”

Sweetie Belle pondered it. “Zippoor-wil, playing a girl named Willow? That makes sense, actually. Think about it: she was asking Rumble about grooming, she did say her mom didn’t want her to pretty up yet. Her family might be a little, umm, careful about what boys she hangs out with in Canterlot.”

“You honestly think Zippoorwil is our girl?” Apple Bloom asked. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know. It sure sounds like it.”

“She does know how to fly already, remember?” Scootaloo said. “At least hover. She flutters her wings just like I do when I hover.”

“That… does kinda make sense. We would’ve noticed if she flew higher by now. She might be staying low on purpose,” Apple Bloom admitted. 

“What do we know about her family?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Who are her friends?”

“I've seen her talking to Dinky Do a lot.” Scootaloo scratched her nose, thinking. 

“A unicorn. A unicorn who can dance.”

Scootaloo nodded and downed another piece of quiche. “Definitely. She gave me a run for my money last dance-off.”

“You went to a dance-off?” Apple Bloom asked. 

“Hey, I have a life besides you, you know.”

“Girls, don't get distracted. Could Zippoorwil be Willow Bark? Are we absolutely sure?” Sweetie asked. 

“I still ain’t convinced,” Apple Bloom said. “I mean, she wears glasses, for pity’s sake.”

“So does Supermare,” Scootaloo replied. 

“That’s not my point, Scootaloo. Sweetie Belle, you saw them. Did this Willow girl wear glasses?”

“She had a mask on. There might have been lenses in that. Who else could it be?”

“Okay, I will say this much, there ain't a whole lot of other options, if these girls are locals. And Zippy's dad is a musician, so maybe-”

“Wait, what? Seriously?”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Yeah, didn't Rarity tell you? Big guy, her dad. Got a fancy-lookin' guitar for a cutie mark and everything. Think she’s the one, then?”

Sweetie Belle nodded right back. “Has to be.”

“So what do we do?” Scootaloo asked. 

“If it is her, then all we need is an excuse to get those high-flyers together,” Apple Bloom said. 

Sweetie Belle grabbed a book from a nearby case, one she’d borrowed earlier for her own productions. “I think I've got just the thing.”





There was something pure about catching practice. Just two bodies, some time, and that harshest and most unforgiving of taskmasters: gravity. 

Rumble went down after the filly-shaped doll, catching it mere inches before it hit the ground. He wasn't doing a glove catch now, just a standard under-the-shoulders grip. 

Once he had the thing firmly in his grasp, he swung it over his back and soared higher, taking it to safety and presumably a medic. 

He panted for air. His wings burned. “Was that the tenth time or eleventh?” he asked no one. He didn't bring any papers. He didn't have any assistants to take notes. No spectators. No fans. He couldn’t remember when Scootaloo and Apple Bloom had left. He only flew with Scootaloo for warming up, anyway, not like it mattered. He reached up to the corners of his mouth. Still saggy. He couldn’t keep up a smile, still. His eyes felt heavy, his breath slow and sluggish. 

No change from before. 

He just had to cheer up, chin up. 

Chin up. What a joke. 

“Come on, everypony! Tighten those turns! Corkscrew down! Keep your wings off the rings!”

The sounds of practice were carried on the wind, making his ears twitch. A couple hundred paces away, the old circus training ground was occupied by the Fillydelphia Junior Flyers Club. A loudmouth coach who bellowed his commands oversaw the training of competitive flyers, aged fourteen to nineteen. The coach always had his back towards Rumble, for reasons the boy could only guess. Rumble used to fly their way, to sit and watch them as they practised, as they honed their skills.

He used to. 

He shook his head to clear it. No sense in getting distracted now. 

He nudged the doll over the edge of the cloud he was on. 

He closed his eyes and slowed down his breathing. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, go!”

Like lightning, he burst forth and swept the thing up again. Like clockwork, he put it back on the cloud. 

Like always, there was no one to tell him if he was doing it right. The doll certainly didn't have any remarks. 

The boy sighed. Even his ears were starting to droop. 

What’s the point? 

“Hoowee! That wush a fine catsh there, youngin!” A voice called out. 

“Huh?” He flew down to greet the source. “Oh. Hi, Applejack. What are you doing here?”

Applejack got the tacks out of her mouth and nodded towards town. “Gazebo repair. Mayor's short a couple of hooves and bits, what with all the messes recently. What are you doin' here?”

“Umm, flight practice,” Rumble said with a squeak in his voice. “You know, loops, corkscrews, flybys.”

She pointed up. “Pony catches? Like the Wonderbolts? And all alone? I thought you were practisin’ with Apple Bloom and the girls? That was you at the farm the other day, right?”

He nodded and smiled bashfully. “Yup. I’m gonna be a Wonderbolt one day, so I practise a lot. And I do practise with the girls sometimes, but that’s just the stuff they ask. The high-level workouts, I like to do alone. Gotta stay fit, you know.”

“I’ll say. You're off to a good start, then. You looked just like Rainbow Dash when Rarity fell out of Cloudsdale.”

The subtlest hint of a twitch went through his left eyelids then. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Has she been givin' ya pointers? She's been teaching Scootaloo, you know. Finally got  that girl off the ground.”

That’s not exactly how Rumble remembered that story going, but he nodded politely anyway. “Oh, I know. I've been flying with her, too. Occasionally.”

“Huh. Has Scootaloo shown you any of her moves yet, then?”

“Umm, no, not exactly. More like, I've been showing her my moves. I'm already an advanced flyer, you see. She's still catching up, so I help her out.”

“Oh, good. You know how hard it can get for a little filly. Girl's gotta keep a reputation.” She winked. 

He tilted his head. “How's that?”

“Well, just, you know, boys think you're weak just because you're a girl sometimes, is all I'm saying. It ain't couth, but it happens.”

He chuckled nervously, his voice squeaking. “Yeah, they do think that sometimes, don't they? But don't worry, me and Scootaloo can do plenty.”

“Good. Don't let that Rumble kid upstage you.”

There was that twitch again. “Rumble?”

“Another local Wonderbolt’s little brother.” Applejack looked around. “The way I hear it, he's like a little flyin' machine: really good, but never talks. Kinda messed up in the head, too, from what folks around here say. Don't let the reputation fool you, though: blowhards like that tend to pop under pressure.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Speaking of which, I should probably be getting back to practice now, do my runs over Ponyville.”

“You drag that thing across Ponyville?” Applejack asked.

“Yup. Endurance flying. Makes it easier to pick up speed when the weight comes off.”

Applejack nodded. “Huh. Kinda like plow-pulling, then. You know, you could always try out for rodeo contests, if you wanna measure up against somepony else. I mean, it ain’t as glamorous as the flyer circuit, but it’s a lot less harsh, too. Not as many stuck-up guys and gals in that, if you catch my drift, or pushy parents. A pony like you would fit right in. Got its own circuit for girls and everything.”

He furrowed his brow, blushing. Somehow, he'd never thought Applejack to be the matchmaking type. But then, with Apple Bloom and that love poison incident, it was to be expected to some degree. “Umm, thanks? I might try that sometime, actually.”

“That's done,” Big Mac said as he came walking by, hammer and tacks put away. “What are you dawdlin' about for?”

“Huh? Oh, nothin', just talkin' to this little high-flyin’ filly over here.”

Of course. Rumble grumbled as he took off. “I'll see you around, Applejack.”

The mare blinked. “Wait, you are the same girl that came to the farm the other day, right? You're a local?”

“You might say that. Hi, Big Mac.”

Big Mac glared at his sister even as he greeted the colt. “Howdie. How’s your brother doin’? Wonderbolt courses treatin’ him okay?”

“His drill sergeant says he’s doing fine, but he still comes home feeling like a bag of bricks. So he’s doing okay, but it’s still hard work.” 

“I’ll bet. You tell him I said ‘Hi’ when you see him, okay?”

“Will do!” With that, Rumble went straight up, warming up his wings with the weight on him. He needed the fresh air from higher up to calm his rising temper anyway, and he didn't feel like tiring himself out flying upwind just yet. He saved that for later. At least he had his rescue aide on his back.

His filly doll. 

Applejack was left confused. “Who was that? Apple Bloom never mentioned her name.”

“That was Rumble,” Big Mac replied. 

Applejack blinked. “That’s Thunderlane’s little brother?”

“Eeyup.”

“But I thought Rumble was supposed to be a colt?”

Up above, the boy froze. His jaw clenched. She didn't even look up at him. It didn't even occur to her he might be listening. 

“He is.”

Applejack grimaced. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Thunderlane calls him his 'little brother', after all. Don't see why he would if he's not.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Well, he sure doesn't look like a colt, or sound like one.”

Rumble shivered. Was she really that dense?

Did neither of them notice he was still there? 

Again? 

“You do realise he noticed you called him a girl, right?” Big Mac looked up.

Applejack looked up with him, just in time to see Rumble kick the air and take off, finally out of earshot. 

Applejack scrunched her nose, momentarily shaken from her otherwise stoic mood. “W-well, that’s not my fault! How am I supposed to know he ain't a girl? I've never seen him around; this is the first time I've gotten a closer look at him, talked to him. He doesn’t look anything like his brother, it’s an honest mistake. He looks like a girl, he sounds like a girl, he even kinda moves like a girl.”

“I think you hurt his pride there, Applejack. You’ve heard what ponies say about him.”

“Oh, please, I'm sure he gets that a lot, it's fine. All that stuff about him makin’ hurricanes is probably made up, anyway. Besides, boys are tough like that; you'd know.”

Big Mac rolled his eyes. “AJ, you're my sister and I love you dearly, but sometimes you just gotta know when to stop talking. Even with your honesty.” He stopped and thought it over for a second. “Especially with your honesty.”

Rumble tensed his body as he flew, using every ounce of willpower not to drop his doll, bolt and knock off a few shingles from the Ponyville roofs. It wouldn't do to turn to vandalism now. 

One time. Just one time. One time I say ‘Wonderbolt’ and not ‘Wonderbolt stallion’. 

He clenched his jaw and relished the aches in his muscles as he flew on. It helped him focus.

Don’t lose your cool.

Don’t get distracted.

Don’t quit.

Don’t whine. 

Act like a good example.

Act like a Wonderbolt. 

Act like a proper Wonderbolt stallion. 
> The Plan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, on the way to school, the girls had already settled on their first mission of the day.

Cutie Mark Crusader Damage Control.

“Look, Rumble, I know my sister might have said some, err, silly things to ya the other day, but there’s a good reason for it,” Apple Bloom started, dashing in front of him. 

Sweetie Belle pouted as she flanked him with Scootaloo. He wasn’t even flying to school today. Maybe he’d overworked himself, or maybe he really didn’t feel like flying? Would that count as progress or not?

Rumble stopped and glanced at the clock on the school building. Plenty of time left. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Apple Bloom took a deep breath and promptly remembered that she’d forgotten to plan ahead. She hadn’t counted on the boy actually stopping to listen, oddly enough. “Well… umm, she was distracted!”

“She didn’t see you very well!” Scootaloo cried out, quickly moving to stand next to Apple Bloom. 

“Yeah, she, umm, she needs glasses, that’s why,” Apple Bloom lied.

Rumble’s left ear flicked. “Sure. So she can’t see very well, huh?”

“Exactly, honest mistake,” Scootaloo added. “Why, Applejack’s even starting to mix up Apple Bloom for Winona, right?” She nudged her friend. 

“D’err, yeah, yeah, my poor sis can’t see, it’s so bad she’s started tryin’ to feed me dog food.” Apple Bloom flashed him a smile that was all teeth and all nerves. 

Rumble’s expression shifted. It shifted to one that was incredulous and annoyed, but at least they got a response from him. “Uhuh.”

“Look, I think what we’re trying to say is...” Sweetie Belle joined them. “We’re sorry Applejack hurt your pride. Part of that is our fault: we didn’t tell her it was you when you came to the barn, and since we usually only hang out with girls, she assumed it was a girl helping us out with the dancing thing. We never told her that was you because…”

“Applejack can be pretty embarrassing sometimes,” Apple Bloom said. “Case in point.”

Much to their surprise, he lightened up at that. “Oh. So she did recognise me, she just didn’t know who I was.”

“Exactly. She thought the pony leaving the barn was a girl, and she knew that was you, so she thought you were that girl. She didn’t see you up close the first time. She didn’t see. She couldn’t have. That’s why,” Apple Bloom explained. “We’re really sorry, and we hope that you’re not gonna, you know, go back to bein’ on your own all the time and not talk to anyone.”

“I’m fine, girls.” Rumble resumed his pace. “You don’t need to make such a big deal about it. She only called me a girl. It’s not like that’s such a bad thing, right? Plenty of strong mares around. And you’re all girls, too. Why would I be bothered?”

“Phew, I’m glad we got that sorted out,” Apple Bloom wiped her brow.

“And in record time, too,” Scootaloo said. “Usually that sort of thing takes a whole hour.”

“I thought it was more like twenty minutes?” Apple Bloom said.

“That’s because you don’t count breaks, Apple Bloom.”

The schoolbell rang. “Girls!” Cheerilee called out. “Don’t dawdle, class is starting.”

Rumble snorted as Apple Bloom and Scootaloo galloped off.

Sweetie Belle walked next to him. “Sorry about them. Really.”

“You already apologised, Sweetie Belle. Applejack made an honest mistake, that’s all.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. We’re kinda new to the whole ‘boy issues’ thing. Usually it’s stuff boys and girls deal with, and with our cutie marks...” She glanced at hers. “We all want to help, but we don’t always know how, so it can get kinda...”

“Awkward?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s okay.” He smiled at her. 

“And the thing is, we were hoping to do another dance thing after school.”

“Oh. That’s why you’re so nice.”

“That too. We were going to ask you during recess but, you know, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. We won’t make you.”

“Well, what do you need me for, exactly? You know more ponies than I do. Doesn’t Apple Bloom hang out with a dancer?” he asked as they reached the door. The last few stragglers were coming in at the sound of the bell.

“Sure, Apple Bloom knows a couple of ponies, and so does Scootaloo, but none of them can do what we’re planning to do. None of them can fly and carry a filly like it’s nothing, for rescuing or for dancing. So yeah, you’re kind of the only colt we can ask for this sort of thing,” Sweetie Belle explained. 

He nodded curtly. “Okay, then, I’ll do it.”

“Really?” 

“Sure. What are friends for?”

“Thanks. For what it’s worth, I think you’ll make a great Wonderbolt one day, too. Just like Rainbow Dash. Or your brother.”

He bit his lip before smiling and walking in. “Thanks. You’d make a good one, too, you know, if you had wings.”

“I’m not that fast.”

“No, but you are that nice. Wonderbolts don’t bail on team mates. They look out for each other. Like you do, for your friends.”

Sweetie chuckled. “Well, you never know. I might just end up as your tailor once you make it big.”

He chuckled along with her.

That, in her book, was a win. 

Now to score the second one. 





“So why aren't Apple Bloom and Scootaloo with you?” he asked.

Sweetie Belle kept her eyes on the older colts in the air. They were a real sight to behold, those teenagers: broad shoulders, distinguished chins, deep voices that chuckled and grumbled like any stallion's would, not at all like the older fillies flying with them. She felt, more than saw, Rumble's wings clench against his sides at the sight. She couldn't blame him; these kids were half a head taller than him or her, and the size advantage alone put them in a different league altogether. 

“They're getting another practice partner,” Sweetie Belle replied.

“And what are we practising again, exactly?” 

“Umm...” Sweetie bit her lip. “It's an aerial performance. So kind of like a dance, but not really. You’ll like it, I promise.”

To her surprise, he didn't object to that notion. “Oh, okay. What sort of performance?”

As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t hide it for much longer. “The Guilty Tango. It's from a Canterlot opera, about a boy who gets pulled back and forth between two families.”

“Uhuh. And why would you wanna practise that?”

“Umm, well, you know... Diamond Tiara's birthday party is coming up. And her mom doesn't want anyone giving her presents, but she never mentioned anything about performing. I thought, maybe if we did a little something for Diamond, if it looks fancy enough, then her mom might stop worrying about the crowd she hangs out with.”

He mulled over that thought for a moment. “That's not a bad idea, actually.” He smiled. “What do you need from me?”

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him smile. With all the intensity and seriousness he usually acted with, it was a refreshing change of pace. “Umm, I need somepony who can carry a filly while flying. And I need three ponies who can do a complicated routine in flight.”

“Okay, so that's me and Scootaloo. Who's the third one?”

Sweetie Belle looked past him. “Here they come.”

Rumble turned and furrowed his brow when he saw the three girls approaching. “Zippoorwil? You want me to do an aerial performance with Zippoorwil?”

“Yup. Why, is that a problem?”

He shrugged. “Uh, not for me, no, but are you sure she can do it? I'm pretty advanced, and Scootaloo was already a great dancer before she could fly.”

“Just trust me, she's a great flyer. You're gonna love Zippy.”

He grimaced and whispered when the girls got closer. “I hope you don't mean that literally.”

“Eheh, umm, no, not like that.”

“Hiii, Rumble,” Zippy greeted with a distinctly sweet and syrupy tone in her voice, the other two girls right behind her. 

“Umm, hello, Zippoorwil,” Rumble replied. “Nice weather we’re having, huh?”

“Why is the track still taken? I thought it'd be open by now,” Scootaloo said.

“Oh, they should be leaving any time now,” Rumble said.

As if on cue, a green teenage colt with a brown mane and tail came flying by while the coach gave everyone their last orders. “Hey, you’re Sweetie Belle, right? Cookie Crumble’s daughter?”

Sweetie nodded. “That’s me.”

“I thought I recognised you. Your mom helped us out with bake a sale a while back. You gals looking to take the track next?”

“Yup,” Sweetie Belle replied. “Aerial performance. The Guilty Tango.”

The colt furrowed his brow. “Really? The three of you?” He gestured to Rumble, Scootaloo, and Zippy. “Pretty advanced for little ponies.”

“We’re pretty decent flyers,” Rumble said. 

“You’d have to be,” the big colt replied, before jumping at the sound of the bell. “Well, track’s all yours. Tell your mom Pistachio said ‘Hi’, okay?”

“Will do,” Sweetie Belle replied.

“Great. See you girls around!”

Rumble's jaw clenched. “Excuse me?”

Just like that, the boy was gone, tagging along with the rest of his class as they left. 

“But I'm not- Hey!”

“It's okay, Rumble, I don’t think he meant anything by it,” Sweetie Belle said. 

“Yeah. Lots of boys look girly when they're little,” Zippy said, before going into the same sort of lecturing voice Cheerilee liked to use. “I think it's very cute and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Like Miss Cheerilee said.”

He did his level best not to growl at that remark. He ended up puffing his cheeks into a pout again, like he was about to burst. But, Sweetie Belle figured, Cheerilee would likely hear about it if he did erupt again. Whether that was why he held it back, she didn’t know, but he kept his cool, regardless. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Sweetie Belle grimaced. “She's right, you know. There's nothing wrong with a girly boy. Nopony’s gonna laugh at you for that, not really.”

“Yeah. Nopony laughed at Big Macintosh when he put on a dress. Besides, you boys call us ‘guys’ all the time, don’t you?” Zippy remarked. 

Rumble took in a deep, slow breath through his mouth, swallowed whatever he was going to say, and blew out the air through his nose. “You're right. Let's just practise this Tango thing. I am in the middle, though, right? The boy part?”

“Of course,” Sweetie Belle replied. “You have to be. Now, the Guilty Tango is a very emotional piece, so try and put some swing into your flight. You know, whip your whole body into it. Like you're trying to push a pony away from falling debris.”

“Wait, Guilty Tango?” Apple Bloom asked. “Why ain't you doin' the Tango de Muerte, like we talked about? That's a much more impressive one.”

“Yeah, but turns out Eureponean law doesn't let you call it ‘Tango de Muerte’ if nopony dies doing it. Go figure.”

“Okay, let's do this.” Scootaloo braced herself for a grueling exercise session. 

“How do we start?” Rumble asked. 

“First Scootaloo and you hold hooves.”

The pair got on their hind hooves and let their front hooves touch. 

“Then Scootaloo flies up, pulls Rumble along over the ground, then she does a twirl and lands on his nose.”

Scootaloo flinched. “I have to stand on his nose? Wouldn’t that hurt?”

“Actually, it says here Rumble should do a twirl too and end up with one arm bent. That’s what you stand on.”

Rumble nodded. “I know the move. Go ahead, Scootaloo.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. Basic stabiliser for a cumulus pile. I do it all the time.”

“Well, okay.” Scootaloo flew up, did a quick twirl, then Rumble spun the other way and ended up with his right arm bent over his muzzle. Scootaloo carefully put a hoof down on his arm, keeping her other leg extended like a ballerina doing a pose. “Like this?”

Rumble didn’t even shake, but then Scootaloo was buzzing her wings to keep the weight off. “I’m good. How’s it looking for you?” 

Sweetie Belle nodded and smiled. “Like that. Now, Zippy pulls him back from Scootaloo, and she stands on his back. You two go up high, then Scootaloo follows.”

“Okay. So, Zippy?”

Only now did they notice Zippy’s mouth was hanging open and her glasses were dropping. She pushed her glasses up, then her jaw. “You want me to do stuff like that? Umm...” Zippy carefully put a hoof on his shoulder and pretended to pull him away, before clumsily swinging her body around his to land on his back. 

“Oof!” He buckled, not so much under the pressure as he was under the shifting weight. “Try to stay still, would you?”

“Hey, I’m not the little Wonderbolt here,” Zippoorwil retorted, wobbling on his back and trying not to slip on his soft and shiny coat. “Don’t you practise this?”

“Yes, but usually ponies are unconscious when you have to catch them like this. They don’t… wiggle around and… slip… will you stand still for just one second?!” He ran this way and that, constantly trying to keep the girl stable. 

Said girl apparently forgot she had wings, because she fell flat on her back, dragging Rumble down with her. “Ugh. I don’t think I’m cut out for this, girls. You’re going to have to ask somepony else if this is what you had in mind.”

“Huh?” Rumble quirked an eyebrow as he got up. “What's the matter?”

She blushed. “For starters, I can't fly very high yet. And I don’t exactly have a lot of balance.” She pushed her glasses back into order. “I prefer to dance on the ground, thank you very much.”

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom flinched. “Wait, what?”

Zippoorwil grunted and got back on her hooves. “I can't fly very high. I haven't learned yet.”

“But I thought... you can just go as high as you can, you know,” Sweetie Belle said. “We won't tell.”

“Tell what? I thought you wanted me to practise with Rumble?”

At this point, Rumble suspected some shenanigans. Because he was very clever like that. “Girls, what is going on?” Rumble asked. “I thought you said Zippoorwil was a good flyer?”

“I am a good flyer!” she protested. “But I'm not competing with anypony. Not like you girls.”

Rumble's ears twitched. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, I don't do contests like you do. I don't pretty up and pull out all the stops to win.”

“Hey, I do not pretty up! I don’t wear make-up, I don’t use lip balm, I don’t even wear gel! I only do personal grooming, just like any Wonderbolt stallion would!” he yelled. 

Sweetie Belle recoiled. “Umm, Rumble, I think she was talking about us, not you.”

He panted for air. “Right, sorry.”

Zippy took a step back from the girls. “What exactly were you hoping to do? Were you trying to get me and Rumble together?”

“Kinda,” Apple Bloom admitted. “We're sort of short on flyers in this town, and since Scootaloo's still new to it, we figured we might try and get some more together.”

Zippoorwil tilted her head, confused. “Wait, are you starting some kind of Junior Flyers Club? I thought we were too young for that?”

“We are.” Rumble shot a glare towards the trio. “And that’s not what they told me. In fact, I'm waiting for them to tell me what exactly this is all about.”

“D'err, well, we just thought it was kinda lonely with not that many pegasi to relate to,” Apple Bloom started. “So we figured we'd encourage a little umm, what's the word...”

“Social cohesion,” Sweetie Belle said. 

“Gesundheit,” Scootaloo replied. 

Zippoorwil scrunched her nose at the very idea. “Wait, that’s why you invited me? You thought I was lonely, so you matched me up with the most popular boy in school?”

“I’m popular?” Rumble asked. Because in that regard, he was kind of a dunce.

Zippy continued obliviously. “Why would I be lonely or unpopular? I have my puppy, and my cutie mark, and plenty of friends. And I am not that ugly that I need you to find me a boyfriend. Honestly, I think I might tell Cheerilee on you.”

“What? Why? What did we do wrong?” Apple Bloom asked. 

Zippy humphed and stuck her nose up in an undignified manner. “How would you feel if I invited you to the gym because I thought you were too fat?”

Something clicked in Sweetie Belle's mind. “Huh. You know, I think I just figured out why Babs didn't wanna join us at first.”

The white filly turned and revved up her wings again. “See you around, Rumble. You might wanna consider being a little more careful about whom you hang out with next time. I mean, you are the prettiest boy in school, after all. None of the girls would mind you hanging out with them.”

Sweetie Belle saw a twitch near Rumble’s gut. Was he gagging? “I'll keep that in mind, thanks.”

Zippy turned and fluttered off, buzzing this way and that like a drunken dragonfly.  

Rumble grunted once she was gone. “Okay, so who's next?”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “Wait, you're not mad? You're not gonna chew us out?”

He shrugged, right back to his old self again. “No point. Zippy's just not like me and you. So we need another pegasus if we're gonna do this. You girls have always got a back-up plan, so who's next?”

Something nagged at the back of Sweetie Belle's head. Did she have a back-up plan? Part of her thought she did, but nothing came to mind. “Umm, maybe Featherweight? Then Scootaloo can be in the middle.”

“I am not playing the pretty girl for the boys to fight over.”

“It's just for an act,” Apple Bloom replied. 

“Yeah. Doesn't bother me,” Rumble said. “But Featherweight's not much of a performer, either. Trust me, I tried getting him in my act before. He's fast, but he doesn't have any rhythm yet. Or endurance. Or strength. He’s got speed, though, that’s good. As long as it’s close to the ground.”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “Right, of course. Then, umm, I guess this is a bust. Sorry, Rumble.”

“Hang on.” He squinted at her. “Did you do this so I'd get my cutie mark?”

“Would you be mad if we did?”

He closed his eyes and turned his head down for a second. When he looked up again, he smiled. “No. I appreciate it. But seriously, don't try to get any more girls involved next time? Unless they're Cutie Mark Crusaders like you, they probably won't be up for it. Do you need me for anything else now?”

“No. You can go do your reps now. Sorry again.”

“It's okay. It was worth a shot.”





Sweetie Belle came into Carousel Boutique with a resigned grunt and a carefully aimed, delicate flop on the pillows downstairs. 

Rarity noticed, of course. “What happened this time?”

“We were wrong about Willow Bark. Zippy couldn't fly, and we had to spill the beans. Rumble just thinks we tried to get him a cutie mark. It was a bust.”

“And how angry is he about it?”

Sweetie Belle thought for a moment, lying on the pillows, facing the ceiling. “He wasn't angry at all. That's the weird part. It happened so fast, and he just... did nothing. He wasn't upset or anything.”

“Well, he must be very understanding, then.”

“Must be. But what are we supposed to do now? Zippy was the only one who might be Willow. And it's not her. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe Willow and Rose aren't Ponyville fillies. Maybe it's just Rose who's from Ponyville, and we need to find a unicorn filly first. Maybe Willow is from Canterlot, or someplace else.”

Rarity sighed and sat down. “It's certainly a sound theory. You're sure Rumble wasn't upset?”

“No, he... he was pretty calm about the whole thing. Mostly. I don't know what it is. Maybe he doesn't need helping.”

“Or he does, and he's not upset because at least you tried.”

Sweetie Belle sat up and shook her head. “I don't know, Rarity. I don't know what to do. I wanna do him a favour, help him get his cutie mark.”

“Then why make such a big affair about it? He's only a little boy, after all. If you can’t get him his cutie mark, give him something else. It can't be that hard to find something he likes, at least. Why not just offer him a present, a small token of your appreciation? A pretty bow, perhaps?”

“I don't think he'd like that, Rarity. He hates prettying up.”

“Ah. One of those boys, is he? Likes it rough and dirty?”

That got Sweetie Belle thinking. “Actually, no. That's another weird part. He's really clean. Like, really, really clean. Big on grooming, just not on prettying up. I think he said something about grooming like a Wonderbolt stallion, but nothing more. Like, he really doesn’t want prettying up.”

“Huh. Well, that's just nonsense. If he is that dead set on becoming a Wonderbolt, you'd at least expect him to want to look like one. And Wonderbolts are easy on the eyes, as they say. No reason why Rumble wouldn’t want to be.”

Yeah, he wouldn’t look that bad in a Wonderbolts costume. Would he? Sweetie Belle sighed. “So what do I do? Do I just leave it like that?”

“There is one final option, I suppose. Rose and Willow, they're both aspiring to join the high society, no? Become important ponies, make their families proud?”

“Yes, so?”

“So, if even one of them is from Ponyville, it stands to reason they'd attend any social gathering with a pony of importance.”

Sweetie slapped herself. “Of course. Diamond Tiara's birthday party. They'll be at Diamond Tiara's birthday party.”





To say that the Rich estate was located in the finer part of town would be like saying Princess Celestia was located in her palace: it’s not that they’d moved the centrepiece to a good location, it’s that everything else was built around it to match its glory. 

High hedges and a golden-hued gate separated the premises from the common folk, and only the finest of ponies were given the honour, neigh, luxury of entering. 

Except when there was heavy lifting to be done, of course. Practicality had a way of trumping that sort of thing.

“Okay, the ice sculpture will go next to the punch, the DJ can set up near the poolside, and has the caterer given the okay yet?” Diamond Tiara asked as the stallions carried in some tables and chairs for tomorrow. 

“They have, Madam,” Randall, the Rich family butler, replied. “All is in order.”

“All except the entertainment,” Spoiled Rich added, coming up behind them.

Diamond froze. “U-umm, but we have, like, music, don’t we? DJ-P0n3 is performing.”

Spoiled hrumphed at that. “And that may be well enough for the lower folk you consort with, but what about the important ponies? Fancy Pants will be attending. You expect him to dance to that… that electronic noise you call music?”

The girl winced. “Umm, well… I hadn’t really thought about that. I mean, I kind of figured it was just going to be me and my friends.”

Spoiled Rich leaned in and gave the girl’s chin a gentle tap, before pushing it up to make Diamond look her in the eyes. “Don’t be silly. Of course there will be important ponies at your party, how else will you make the right connections? You need to start working on your socialite skills, darling, and soon. You understand how important it is, don’t you?”

Diamond gulped. She could never break eye contact with her mother, not like this. She was alone, no one there but mom and Randall. She felt so small, always having to look up, everyone looking down at her. 

“B-but mom...”

“Yes?” 

The glare in her mother’s eyes intensified. Stars, Diamond could feel that pressure building on her throat. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear her mother had some kind of artifact on her, some sort of hidden gem with a curse on it, perhaps. But experience told her Spoiled Rich had no need for such silly crutches. Diamond’s neck always ached when her mother forced her to look up like this, with that oppressive hoof under an otherwise indistinguishable girlish chin. It made her shoulders lock up, her ears fall, her breath stop. For all her bravado, all her confidence, all her cheer, a simple tilt of the head was all it took to make it come crumbling down and bring her in line. Everypony more important than her looked down at her. 

And no one who looked down at her would stand up for her.

“Hi, Missus Rich. What’s going on?”

Diamond finally managed to turn away from her mother and looked up at the new arrival. 

“Ah, Rumble. Just the young stallion I was hoping to see.” Spoiled Rich straightened up to speak to the hovering boy.  “It seems my little Diamond can’t think of anything good for entertainment at her party.”

Rumble. The first pegasus in her class who could fly. At least one pony who could look Spoiled Rich in the eyes and not flinch. Him being able to get up to her eye level must have helped. Diamond still dreamed of the day she might become a Princess like Twilight Sparkle and do the same. She could do without the horn, if it came to that. Just something to stop having to look up, and never have to worry about fences or hedges in her way. If only she’d won the genetic lottery, like Pound Cake had. 

If only she’d been born with wings.

But she knew that ship had sailed already, exactly nine years and three hundred and sixty one days ago. Her mother would be celebrating that missing out tomorrow, in fact. 

Rumble set down and nodded towards the gates. “Maybe a walk will help clear her mind? Get some fresh ideas?”

Spoiled pursed her lips. “I suppose. If push comes to shove, I’ll make the arrangements myself.”

Rumble, already halfway leaving, bit his lip. “I’m sure we can think of something.”





A walk through Ponyville was just what she needed. No stallions lugging stuff about, no one looking down at her. 

“So what did you do wrong this time?” Rumble asked.

Diamond gagged. “It’s the party. My mom’s invited all these important ponies, all grownups.”

“But it’s your party, not hers.”

“Doesn’t matter to her. It’s my cuteceñeara all over again: a bunch of ponies I don’t know and can’t talk to. Except now, they’re not even there to celebrate their own cutie marks.”

Rumble thought it over. “And the reason your mom is pushing you is because...”

“She wants me to be, like, the perfect hostess, of course. She wants me to think of something to entertain the grownups. Me? She got Fancy Pants to show up. What am I supposed to do?”

He pondered the options for a moment, thinking aloud. “You could ask Sweetie Belle, but your mom probably wouldn’t like that. And Pinkie Pie-”

“I can’t ask for a party planner. My mom wants me to do it on my own.”

“Well, what were you gonna do, if Fancy Pants didn’t show up?”

“Just get DJ-P0n3 to play some music. Everypony in class likes to dance.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that.

“Okay, almost everypony. And even if they don’t, at least some music can help liven things up. Ponies like music. Even you. Don’t you?”

He nodded and smiled. “Sure I do. And there’s your answer. Just ask the DJ to bring some fancy music, too.”

“You really think that would work?”

“Sure. Look, everypony in class is bringing over a grownup guest as well, right?”

“Yeah,” Diamond said with a sigh. “Probably another excuse for my family to show off to everypony.”

“And a good excuse to be a perfect host to lots of different ponies. Just mix up the music a little. If anypony asks, say you’re, umm, ‘accomodating different tastes.' I know where Vinyl Scratch lives, I can fly over and ask her. Trust me, it’ll work. For class and for Fancy Pants.”

Diamond nudged him with her hips, pressing her cutie mark against the spot where his would be. Where it really should be by now, she felt. It was one thing to be a blank flank, but Rumble was only a blank flank by technicality. Even her mother didn’t treat him like one. “Thanks, Rumble. You’re the best.”

He smiled at that. “I don’t know. I don’t really have anyone to compare to.”

“You know what I mean. I owe you, big time. I mean-” she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Nopony else can talk to my mom like that. I only talked back to her once, and you know how that turned out.”

He looked left and right, then up, in case anypony was listening. He whispered, even with no one nearby. “You can tell somepony about it, you know. Missus Mayor wouldn’t stand for it, Princess Twilight would say something about it. Even Rainbow Dash is starting to notice.”

“I know. But you can’t tell. She’s still family. And I don’t rat out on family. I don’t bail on family.” She turned away and sighed.

“You just bail on friends?”

She bit her lip. 

“That was what you were gonna say, right?”

“It’s complicated,” she replied. 

“No, it’s not. It’s Silver Spoon. If you two still haven’t made up-”

“There’s nothing to make up, Rumble. Sometimes ponies just hang out less, and sometimes they stop hanging out. That’s all it is. If she doesn’t want to be around me anymore, that’s fine. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t blame you, either.”

“Aww, come on, you’re getting sappy.” He patted her back with a wing. “That’s not like you. What happened to the Diamond Tiara who was going to put her school newspaper on the map? What happened to the Diamond Tiara who was going to get Princess Twilight Sparkle to notice her? What happened to the Diamond Tiara who was going to carry the flag at the Equestria Games, without any help from her future Wonderbolt friend?”

“That Diamond’s mom happened, that’s what.”

Rumble snorted. “Do you really care that much about what she thinks of you?”

“Yes. Of course I do; she’s my mom. And as bad as she can get, she’s right, and you know it. I’m not the only one who gets it bad. You’re under just as much pressure as I am, maybe more. But you do it to yourself. If you really think she’s wrong, why do you listen to her?”

He looked up at the sky. “I guess… because you need a lot of pressure to make a diamond?”

“That’s so cheesy it stinks.”

He chuckled. “Okay, maybe you have a point. Maybe I go a little overboard sometimes.”

“A little?”

He glared at her.

She cringed. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

The glare softened into a smile. “Why are you so scared? I won’t tell your mom. You know I won’t.”

She shivered and gulped, and her stomach churned so hard he could hear it. “No, but… I just wouldn’t want you to, you know…“

He nodded. “Right. Of course.”

“Hey, which reminds me: have Apple Bloom and her friends tried getting you a cutie mark yet?”

He shrugged. “Sort of, but it’s nothing, really. They’re still going over the options. I don’t know, I think maybe I should just wait until Flight Camp or something.”

Diamond winced in sympathy. “That might take a while, you know. With everything that’s been going on, the changelings, Tirek, not to mention the Equestria Games and the Crystal Empire, there aren’t a lot of pegasi left to be teachers. And turns out Flight Camp wasn’t exactly child friendly before that.”

“I know. But things will calm down eventually, they’ll fix things up, and then they’ll have to hold a Flight Camp. I’m sure I’ll get my cutie mark then. And I’ll have Scootaloo to keep me company, so I won’t be alone there, either.”

“I hope you’re right.” She looked back at his flanks. “You really don’t look good with a bare bottom. No offense.”

Again, he chuckled. “None taken.”

Diamond kept her eyes on that blank flank, trying to will it to turn. Sadly, her own talent for getting ponies to do what she wanted had its limits. His flanks remained grey. But at least he was a good blank flank. “You really think tomorrow will work out?”

“It’ll be perfect,” Rumble replied. “I promise.”
> The Long Drop and Sudden Stop
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Diamond Tiara’s birthday party was just the way the Rich family liked it: properly segregated. 

At the shallow end of their front yard pool, the part closest to the house, the Riches entertained their high-society guests: Fancy Pants, along with some other important ponies who were not Fancy Pants but still more important than most Ponyvillians. At the edge closest to the gates, perfect for a quick mandatory expulsion and at a safe distance from the silverware, the common folk of Ponyville chatted along amongst themselves. Old acquaintances caught up, gossip was shared – the sharing being especially vigorous around a certain white unicorn who made a point of sticking to the corner of the pool – and laughs were had. 

Finally, away from the gate, the kids were. DJ-P0N3 had brought some unusual fare, getting some hip-wiggles out of the braver girls and some prances out of the boys, but no actual dancing. 

Turns out the kids of Ponyville didn’t get into their proverbial groove much when every song was a classical ballad. Spoiled Rich had promised her daughter there would be at least one song the kids could dance to. There would be, once the important ponies were gone, of course. 

But that was a concern for another time. What mattered was how Diamond Tiara could make an impression on the likes of Fancy Pants. 

“Oh, yes, my little Diamond is very talented. She ran her school newspaper for a while,” Spoiled Rich said. 

Fancy arched an eyebrow. “Oh, that tabloid scandal, you mean? Yes, I heard all about that. Ghastly business, if you ask me, but I suppose children do pull cruel pranks every once in a while.”

Spoiled Rich clenched her jaw. Diamond, standing next to her, winced as if she’d been stabbed. It certainly felt that way.

Fancy Pants, ever the gentlecolt, took notice. “But pray tell, what else has she done? I take it you’re trying to make her live up to the family name, Spoiled?”

Spoiled Rich smiled. “Of course. Why, she’s been getting tutoring for consorting with the nobility.”

“Ah, etiquette lessons, always a boon. What about creative endeavours?”

“C-creative?” Diamond asked with a stammer. 

“Yes, creative endeavours. Every lady I know has at least one creative hobby to speak of. The princesses paint, if I’m not mistaken. But no one tries to follow their act, obviously. And every duchess I know dances. So, Diamond, what are you when you are not in school? A dancer?”

Diamond Tiara gulped and looked away. “Umm, no, sir, I’m not a dancer. It’s a long story.”

“Well, plenty of time to be worrying about that, I suppose. Could you excuse me for a minute? Rarity, darling! How are the Princess Dresses selling?”

Spoiled Rich hissed once Fancy’s back was turned. “What did I tell you about your image, Diamond?”

Diamond flinched. “I know, mom, I couldn’t help it. Besides, why do I have to talk to him?”

“Because he’s the most important pony in Canterlot, Diamond. He is the host of all hosts. An invitation from him is worth its weight in gold.”

“I don’t think invitations weigh that much, mom. You’re wearing stuff that’s worth more.”

“Irregardless! He can make or break your social life,” Spoiled Rich threatened. “You wouldn’t be the first pony to be barred for life from any of the big events. So behave like a winner, like you belong.” 

Diamond sighed, looking out towards the other kids from her class.

“And stop sighing, for pity’s sake. Now you march over there and impress him. Or better yet, get Rumble to talk to him. It’s high time you cashed that boy in.”

The filly gulped at that. “Mom, Rumble’s busy. He’s talking to his friends.”

“Then go get him. At least he knows his place, and he’ll do what he has to.”

“But-”

“But what?” Rumble asked. 

Diamond froze. How long had he been standing there?

“Rumble,” Spoiled greeted with a decidedly fake sweet tone in her voice. “We were just talking about you. Diamond Tiara had the best idea, you’ll love it.”

Rumble quirked an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“You see that stallion talking to Rarity and-” She gagged. “Big... Macintosh over there?”

Rumble tilted his head to look past the mare. “You mean Fancy Pants? What about him?”

“Well, he’s a very important pony, as you know.”

“And?”

Spoiled Rich leaned in as if she were conspiring to take over the kingdom with the boy. “And, if you were to, oh, I don’t know, walk up to him, talk to him, maybe casually mention you were training to be a Wonderbolt one day, he might get you into contact with somepony… connected.”

Diamond’s heart sank. Was her mom really doing this?

Rumble furrowed his brow. “I don’t follow. He’s talking to Rarity. Why would I bother him? Wouldn’t he get annoyed?”

“Oh, no, he wouldn’t. We were just discussing what Diamond Tiara does in her spare time. And Fancy Pants is a steady patron of the Wonderbolts. A boy like you, dedicated and well groomed, why, he’d treat you the way he treats Rarity: with respect, regardless of your origins. Think about it: you know Rarity’s business started booming once she came into contact with the right ponies. She started with Twilight Sparkle’s dragon, then came Hoity Toity, Photo Finish, and then Sapphire Shores and Fancy Pants. And look at her now. She has her own boutiques spread across Equestria, famous throughout the land.”

“With all due respect, Missus Rich, there’s a difference between the Wonderbolts and a fashion boutique,” Rumble retorted. 

“Not in terms of contacts, there isn’t,” Spoiled Rich retorted. “The Wonderbolts are always on the lookout for good opening acts. New stunt flyers, magicians. Fancy Pants can put you there, on the same track as the Wonderbolts. The actual Wonderbolts, the Cloudsdale and Canterlot elite. A little boy like you, managing to perform in a Wonderbolts opening act? Ponies would respect you for that, treat you like the proper young stallion you are. If, of course, you can make him think you are up to the task.”

Rumble mulled it over in his mind. “So… I just talk him, I brag about what I can do, and he’d help me out? Just like that?”

“Just like that. He has a reputation to uphold as well, after all. It makes him look good if he can provide new talent. And you would look very good indeed if you were associated with a fine stallion such as him.”

“What about Diamond?”

The mare chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m sure it would reflect well on my little Diamond if Fancy Pants were to see her consort with a future Wonderbolt such as yourself. Seems like that’s the only way she’s going to get anywhere.”

Diamond bit her lip. 

“Okay,” Rumble replied. “I’ll do it. But I’ll have to be subtle about it. It’ll be more natural if I make  it look like I have a reason to go over there. Maybe if Diamond Tiara went over to the rest of class?”

“Why?”

“So I’d have a reason to go over there and ask if he knows where she is. It’d work better if you were out of sight, too, Ma’am. If you got him some drinks, that’d let you stop him from getting too sidetracked.”

“Capital idea.” Spoiled Rich turned and shooed her daughter off. “See, Diamond? Rumble knows how to make an impression.”

Diamond smiled at him as she skulked off. Rumble smiled right back. 

Before long, he was alone. 

Almost alone. 

He breathed out a heavy sigh. “Randall?”

“Yes, Master Rumble?” the butler replied. 

“Could you fetch me a saddle, please? Diamond Tiara should still have one in her closet. The blue and silver one.”

“At once, sir, but may I ask what for?”

He looked at Fancy Pants, then to his class, grumbling. “I’m gonna make an impression.”





Sweetie Belle slowly cantered over to her big sister, careful not to interrupt her. After all, Rarity was talking to Fancy Pants again, and she didn’t want to be rude. 

But she was staring, and staring was a rude thing to do. 

The reason she stared was simple: Fancy Pants was a lot smaller than she’d figured at first. When she’d seen him in Canterlot, he’d appeared gargantuan, colossal, in a word: big. She’d pegged him to be bigger than Big Macintosh. Yet here he was, in the same place as Big Mac, and the size difference vanished, then reversed. 

His hooves were not that thick, his frame slightly more slender than that of Big Mac. But that’s not how he’d looked before. There had to be a trick to it. There was something she was missing about Fancy, but what? 

“Any luck?” Apple Bloom asked. 

“Huh?” Sweetie Belle turned her head to find her friends had snuck up on her. 

“Think anypony here is the gal we’re lookin’ for?”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “No. The music is all classic, but nopony’s dancing.”

“I’ll say,” Scootaloo added. “You need lessons to dance to this stuff.”

Sweetie rolled her eyes. “That’s kind of the point, Scootaloo. What do you think? Any pegasi who look like they might be airborne already?”

Scoots shrugged. “Nopony so far.”

“And any unicorns from a fancy family?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Not by the looks of it, no.” Sweetie Belle sighed silently. 

Apple Bloom smiled once she saw a pink form mingle with the rest of class. “At least Diamond Tiara’s not with her mom anymore.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a plus.”

“Is that Mister Fancy Pants over there?” Scootaloo asked. 

Sweetie Belle turned to where Scootaloo gestured. “Uhuh. I guess Spoiled Rich wanted him to see Diamond Tiara. You know, make some connections.”

“She’s only nine. How does that even work?”

Sweetie Belle bit her lip. “Simple: if Diamond Tiara manages to be a big shot, then her family gets to be big shots, too. If she makes friends with other important kids, then those kids’ parents will hang out with hers. That’s just how high society works.”

Apple Bloom snorted. “Lazy way of gettin’ ahead in life, if you ask me.”

“Maybe, but it works. And Fancy Pants is part of it, even if he is a nice pony.”

“Speaking of nice ponies, where’s Rumble? Wasn’t he around here just a second ago?” Apple Bloom asked. 

“I’m not sure. I think I saw him talking to Spoiled Rich.”

“Oh, no, what’s she gotten into his head this time?”

Sweetie’s ears twitched when the music changed. “You hear that?”

“Hear what? The music? It’s the same thing they’ve been playing since the party started.” Scootaloo shrugged. 

“No, this is different. I know this.”

The girls turned, as one, towards their class. Rumble, dressed in a fancy-looking blue and silver saddle, walked up to Diamond Tiara and extended his hoof. 

“No,” Sweetie Belle said. “No way.”

Diamond looked around furtively, before taking the hoof. The music, a slow, building rhythm, swelled as they took their first steps in perfect synch. 

“Is that...”

“That’s the Dance of Falling Leaves,” Sweetie Belle said. “At least the start of it.”

The girls’ heart sank as they realised what was going on. 

“But I thought you said Rose Petal was a unicorn?” Scootaloo asked. 

Sweetie slapped herself. “I saw a horn, but I never saw her use magic. It must have been a fake horn. Of course. Rose Petal is Diamond Tiara. But then the other girl was...”

As the pair of young ponies danced to an awestruck crowd, the Cutie Mark Crusaders fell silent. 

They’d wanted to find a girl like Rumble so he’d have someone to play with. 

Apparently they’d been trying to get him to play with himself. 





“Are you sure you want to do this, Rumble?” Diamond asked in a whisper as he let her down in a dip. “Everypony’s gonna see.”

“They should,” Rumble replied, letting her back up. 

“But what about Fancy Pants? The Wonderbolts? My mom-”

Right on cue, he brusquely pulled her close. “Your mom is trying to get you noticed by making you be around important ponies, around me. This is your party. You should be the centre of attention. You’ve earned it.”

Diamond almost cried at that. “But...”

“Look, you know how to do this. You’ve done it before. You’ve shown your mom, you’ve shown me, you’ve shown Canterlot. Now you can show the ponies that matter. You can do this, you know you can. Are you ready?”

Diamond gulped. “I’m ready. Just, umm...”

“Do it over the pool. I know. I’ve got you, don’t worry.”





“Sweetie Belle?” Scootaloo asked. “Why are you making that face? And why is Fancy Pants smirking like that?”

Sweetie stared on, mouth agape. “They’re really gonna do it. They’re seriously doing this in front of everypony.”

“Doing what? What’s so special about this dance?”

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “Why do you think it’s called Dance of the Falling Leaves?”

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom turned just in time to see Rumble dip backwards and sit down, with one leg going up. Diamond Tiara went down with him, and stood one leg on his, before getting the other into position. 

The strings of the piece gave one big dramatic stroke, and Diamond was off. With a firm thrust of both athletic pegasus legs and Earth pony strength, she was catapulted up. 

With a hop and a flourish, Rumble zipped after her, going up in a spiral while she tumbled and spun in mid-air. He passed her by with a gust of wind, blowing her body upward before she’d gotten halfway to the ground. 

And he was careful enough to steer her in the breeze so she’d be over water. 

Diamond went in freefall again, and Rumble flew down and slowed his wings to do the same. He was under her now, in position to have her stand on his saddle, sit down and do a double whirl with her legs (careful not to kick him in the back of the head, obviously, since he wasn’t wearing a helmet this time). 

Just when the two were about to hit the water, another powerful flap of the wings sent them up. Rumble opened his wings to stop his upward momentum, Diamond kept going straight up, tumbling and striking poses like a gymnast in her ascent before gravity took hold again. Rumble flew past with another blast from his wings and grabbed her wrists to throw her up higher still, giving him the time for his own tumbling and posing.

“Whoa,” Scootaloo said. “It’s like a trapeze act without a trapeze.”

“Or a net,” Apple Bloom said. “No wonder Diamond Tiara’s mom likes Rumble so much. He’s makin’ her look like a pro.”

“She is a pro,” Sweetie Belle said. “She’d have to be. I’m starting to see why she’s so scared of upsetting him, too. Can you imagine if he got distracted and slipped up while they’re doing this?”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened. “Never mind that. Suppose he gets mad at her once, and he decides to ‘accidentally’ drop her?”

Sweetie’s body shuddered at the very idea. 

Then, in time with the music, Diamond plummeted while Rumble hung there.

“Wait, ain’t he-” Apple Bloom started. 

“Wait for it...” Sweetie Belle said. 

Diamond fell down, still tumbling. From below, the girls could tell she had her eyes closed. They couldn’t blame her. 

Diamond straightened out, so her hind hooves would be pointed down. A woosh and a zip later, and she had that sturdy saddle under her hooves again, still with both of them falling. 

Another mighty flap of the wings, and they stood still. The water of the pool rippled from the force of the wind, but only the tip of Rumble’s left front hoof pierced the surface. Everything else was rigid in an elegant-looking pose. 

“She didn’t fall,” Scootaloo said. “She didn’t even jolt.”

“Perfect landing,” Sweetie Belle added. “Told you they were good.”

Apple Bloom squinted, thinking. “So why wouldn’t they tell us about this?”

“Rumble!” A hissing voice came from behind them as the pair went out of the pool, the only wetness being around Rumble’s hooves. “What do you think you are doing? This is not the conduct of a proper stallion, Rumble; that is the conduct of a common circus monkey. You’re better than that, than them.”

Rumble pouted again, but thankfully the crowd that swarmed to him didn’t notice.

“That was awesome!” Silver Spoon called out as the rest of class swarmed around them. “Nice moves, Rumble. Why didn’t you ever tell us you’re a dancer?”

“Because I’m not a dancer!” He yelled, loud enough to make everyone, even Spoiled Rich, flinch. He turned to face the mare and answer her remarks. “I am an aerial performer, Ma’am. I’m a future Wonderbolt stallion, an acrobat. You know I am. And I’m a rescue flyer. If I want to be any good, I have to be able to do both.” He shook his head with a snort. “I’ve been working hard on my moves. It’s not like dancing for fun, or a circus performance, it’s serious business. And as for my behaviour: you’re right. I am better than some circus monkey performing for just anypony. I only perform to ponies who can afford to see me. But that’s not why I did this in front of them. Some pony’s gotta show these low-level, lower-class ponies how it’s done. You gotta remind’em who’s in charge, and why.”

Diamond winced. Spoiled Rich smirked and skulked off to Fancy Pants before he could come and ask the kids about their performance. 

“Wow,” Silver Spoon said. “Umm, okay.”

Sweetie Belle looked to the side, to check if Spoiled Rich was out of earshot. The mare was right back to talking to Fancy Pants, no doubt trying to score points on the back of the kids’ efforts. None of the other adults made a move towards them. “Nice bluff, Rumble.”

“Is she still listening?” he asked. 

“Wait, you didn’t mean that?” Scootaloo asked.

“Of course not; I’m not a jerk. But I can’t just go and insult my partner’s mom like that. Sorry if I scared you, everypony. I’ve been trying to get up to Wonderbolts level for a while now. It’s hard to tell what’s right for them and what’s not. Sometimes they act a lot harsher than they are. Even to ponies who don’t deserve it.”

A sigh of relief went through the little herd. 

“Gosh, I hope Fancy Pants didn’t get the wrong idea,” Sweetie Belle said. 

Rumble shrugged. “If it ever comes up, I can explain myself. Not like the Wonderbolts don’t pull this stuff all the time.”

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Apple Bloom said. “You two are aerial performers? Both of you?”

“Yup,” Diamond replied. “Rumble does most of the flying, obviously. Usually I wear a horn. My mom thinks it makes me look classy.”

Rumble nodded. “Yeah, and the couple of times we’ve had a crowd, we usually wear masks and disguises, so nopony knows it’s us. It’s a high society thing, long story.”

“So, that’s why you’ve been so highly strung in class.”

Rumble gulped as he suddenly remembered that he’d been standing near the punch bowl, and had in fact forgotten to check if anypony had been thirsty. That sort of oversight could be costly. “Umm, hi, Miss Cheerilee. How long have you been standing there?”

The mare smiled. “Let’s just say I’ll think twice before I call one of your bluffs. Honestly, I’m impressed. Have you two been hiding this all this time?”

“Umm, yes, Ma’am. I just wanted it to be perfect before I showed anypony, is all.”

Sweetie Belle noticed the tremor on the corner of Rumble’s mouth. 

“Well, I, for one, am very proud of you, both of you. That was a complicated routine, professional level. Dangerous, too, I imagine.”

Rumble forced out a nervous smile. “Eheh, yeah. It’s good practice for rescue flying. That’s why the Wonderbolts recruited from those classes in the first place. Well, they used to.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes darted from the boy to her teacher. He was getting flustered, but besides that, she could almost swear he was in pain. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” she asked.

“Hmm? No, we’re careful. Diamond Tiara’s got kind of an edge when it comes to aerial stuff, what with Earth pony strength and all,” Rumble replied. 

That explained that. Creating the illusion that it was a unicorn doing all those moves, and not an Earth pony tapping into her natural strength, would make it look more impressive. That brought another uncomfortable question to Sweetie Belle’s mind, though.

Was Spoiled Rich ever going to let anypony know Diamond Tiara could do all that or just let Rumble make all the connections and let him hang out to dry if he ever messed up? 

“Well, you should be very proud of yourself,” Cheerilee said. “And stop worrying so much about what other ponies think of you, Rumble. There’s nothing wrong with a boy who can move with such grace and elegance.”

Sweetie Belle had to suppress a gasp when she saw his pained reaction to that. It was so subtle, though, a blink and she’d have missed it. Everypony else seemed to. 

“Yeah,” Snips said. “I’ve been learning how to do girly manecuts, and I don’t care about how that makes me look.”

“I play plenty of games with girls as the hero,” Button Mash added. 

“I’m learning how to make soufflés,” Snails piped up.

Rumble chuckled and turned to the boys of his class. “Thanks, you guys. Guess being a little bit girly isn’t so bad.”

“Exactly, Rumble,” Cheerilee said. “You shouldn’t worry about it. You’ll make a fine Wonderbolt one day, I’m sure.”

Again, Sweetie Belle’s ears twitched. 

“Do you think maybe you could teach us how to do that?” Dinky Do asked. “I’ve never seen dancing like that before.”

Rumble looked to Diamond Tiara. “What do you say? It’s your party. You wanna lead the dance?”

Diamond rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll show you a quick one, but you’ll have to make it up yourself afterwards.”

As the boys and girls started pairing up, the Cutie Mark Crusaders found themselves flabbergasted.

“Wow,” Apple Bloom said.  “That worked out a lot better than anythin’ we could have done.”

“Are you sure?” Sweetie Belle asked. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” Scootaloo asked. 

“Rumble is what’s wrong. Didn’t you see his face when Cheerilee said he was girly? He’s been getting that a lot lately.”

“So what if he’s a little girly? Everypony’s okay with him bein’ the way he is,” Apple Bloom remarked. 

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No, not everypony.”





Spoiled Rich was tickled pink when Diamond’s party was over, doubly so when all the less well-off ponies had cleared out. Diamond Tiara, still playing the good hostess, stood at the gates while everyone made their way home. 

“Hope you had a good time,” Diamond said as they passed by. “It was great to have you all.”

“Hey, Diamond?” 

Diamond ugh-ed. “Look, Sweetie Belle, I know you want to help Rumble and all, but-”

“I know. I understand, really. You sent that letter to Sugarcube Corner, huh?”

Diamond bit her lip and looked around furtively. The only guests left were Fancy Pants, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and the Crusaders’ plus ones. All of them still crowded around the unicorn stallion. Rumble was out in the back, getting the saddle off. 

“Yeah. We keep that to ourselves. You know, so when the masks come off, we look good already. So I can hang out with the future duchesses and all the other snobs who are into this kind of thing. And then, you know, my mom and dad have an excuse to meet their parents. Get Filthy Rich’s Dirty Deals some bigger business. Or, well, not bigger business, just better-looking business.”

“I kinda figured. And Rumble’s in it for the practice, huh?”

“Yup. Plus, it’s good to make a name for yourself. Gotta start that early, after all.” She cast a glance towards her mother, who was still working on Fancy Pants. At least he seemed impressed. 

“You’re gonna be alone for a couple of days now?”

“Yup. My mom’s leaving in two hours, my daddy’s in Phillydelphia already. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just, umm, random idea. A, err, ‘spur of the moment’ kind of thing. I’ll be right back.”

Diamond Tiara furrowed her brow as Sweetie Belle trotted off. The little unicorn got Spoiled Rich’s attention, looked like she asked something, then Spoiled Rich waggled her hoof as if to shoo the girl away, which got her all excited for some reason. She galloped back.

“Your mom’s okay with it. This is gonna be great, I promise.”

“What did you do?” Diamond asked.

“Just trust me. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Diamond glared.

“This time. I know exactly what I’m doing this time. For sure. I promise.”





Rumble stayed quiet as he walked Sweetie Belle home. It was only when he got to her room that he thought he might have cause for concern, or at least a reason to blush. 

Red swirls and hearts decorated the walls, and the windows were floor to ceiling, so it was a bright room. The bed was what drew his attention, though: green wood, a pink sheet, even pinker pillowcase, and hearts and swirls all over. On one side of the room, there was a nightstand, on the other was a lifesize mirror. 

All in all, the hearts made it look like a girl’s refuge, like he should feel like an intruder of some sort. “So, umm, why did you want me to come again, exactly?”

“I just wanted to talk,” Sweetie replied, hopping on her bed. 

He let out a quick and quiet snort, never changing his expression. “About the cutie mark thing?”

“D’err, yeah, of course! I wanted to talk about you getting your cutie mark sometime. Just sit down and I’ll take some notes.” She grabbed a notepad and floated a pencil over, before patting next to her. 

He hopped on her bed. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

Sweetie Belle bit her lip, hiding her face behind the notepad. “Do you think maybe the reason you don’t have your cutie mark yet is because you’re not having any fun with, umm, anything?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, it’s just that…” She sighed, and the pencil dropped. “Okay, actually, forget the notepad. The truth is, we’re all kinda worried about you. You’re always talking about your schedules and your reps, you snap at ponies for little things, it’s like something sucked the fun out of you. And, umm, ponies get their cutie marks when they feel good about themselves, when they have fun. So… can you tell me anything about that, maybe?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “What’s there to talk about? I wanted to be a Wonderbolt, I didn’t think I could do it, so I tried quitting. Rainbow Dash told me not to, you and your friends told me not to, so I didn’t. I didn’t quit, I’m still practising, everypony knows my big secret now, they’re all fine with it. What else is there?”

Sweetie Belle winced. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you ever have any fun?”

“I already told you: for me, flying is fun.”

“Is it? It sure doesn’t look like it.”

“What would you know?”

She sighed and lowered her voice to sound as calming as she could. The odd squeak here and there didn’t help. Or maybe it did, she never could get the hang of that. “I know you want to be a Wonderbolt stallion more than anything in the world. I know the only times you smile, the only times you’re happy, is when you’re explaining things, and when ponies listen to you. And I think I’ve figured out how it is that you don’t have your cutie mark yet, even with all the awesome stuff you can do.”

He huffed. 

“It’s not the Wonderbolts part you’re worried about, is it? It’s the stallion part.”

He pouted and looked away. 

“I don’t know that much about it, I’ll admit. But I might be able to think of something if you just sat down and explained yourself. You keep pushing yourself back and putting yourself down, and that makes it even harder to listen to you. The only reason you pulled that stunt back there is so Diamond Tiara would feel better.”

“So?”

“So, that still doesn’t change anything for you. You can’t keep doing this. Every time somepony tries to do something for you, you end up making it about them instead. That’s fine if you can handle it, but at some point you’re going to have to do something for yourself, won’t you?”

He groaned. “Why? I’m fine. I’m the best flyer in town, I’m one of the best aerial acrobats my age, and everypony is fine with how girly I am. Why would I even care about getting a cutie mark?”

“Well, even if you don’t care about a cutie mark, and I doubt you don’t, you don’t seem to relax, ever. That can’t be healthy.”

Again, Rumble groaned. “Quit beating around the bush. What do you want from me, really?”

“I want to help. I want to talk. You helped out Apple Bloom when she was getting anxious about Scootaloo. I’ve noticed; she’s a lot more careful now when she needs to be, and a lot less the rest of the time.”

Rumble nodded. “Wonderbolts don’t forsake their duty. They set a good example.”

“And Scootaloo would still be grounded if you hadn’t gotten Thunderlane to help.”

He shrugged again. “Anypony could have done that.”

“But nopony did. You’ve helped us out, Rumble, more than you know. And what you did for Diamond Tiara today was really sweet, not to mention brave.”

“It’s nothing. When are you going to get it? Everypony’s okay with me doing all that girly stuff. There’s nothing wrong with being a girly boy, that’s what everypony says.”

Sweetie Belle nodded. “I’ll bet they do. I’ll bet you get that a lot.”

“And they’re right. It’s no big deal: everypony is okay with it.”

“No, everypony else is okay with it. But just because they’re okay with that, doesn’t mean you are. You got a problem with girls?”

He gulped, still not looking her in the eyes. 

“Well?”

He shook his head, even when she scooted closer to him.

“I promise I’ll listen,” Sweetie Belle said. “If it’s complicated, you can uncomplicate it. I won’t laugh, I promise.”

“Just tell me what you want me to do already. I’ve got places to be.”

“I’m not asking for any favours, Rumble, that’s the whole point. Every time me and my friends have talked to you, it’s been because we wanted something from you.”

“Of course; that’s what friends do.”

“Yes, but that’s not the only thing friends do. Friends don’t make it this one-sided. I’m not okay with that, and neither are Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. I just… could you please look at me when I’m saying this?”

Reluctantly, he turned his head to look her in the eyes, so he’d see the sincerity in them.

“I wanted to do something nice, for you, just like that. Something you didn’t have to do anything for. Something to make it even. Cutie marks are the best way I know, and you’re not going to get your cutie mark if you keep doing what you’re doing, so here we are. But...” She looked away, giving him an excuse to do the same. “If you don’t want to talk about it, if you really need your space, or your reps, I won’t make you stay. You can leave if that makes you happy.”

He let his head hang. “It wouldn’t.”

She smiled and nudged him with her muzzle. “I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t think you’ll never be a Wonderbolt; you think you’ll never be a stallion.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Even so, his wings clenched. “Yes.”

“So what happened to you, Rumble? How did you get like this?”

He looked up and pondered. “I can’t remember. I’ve always wanted to be a Wonderbolt, for as long as I can remember. I saw my brother, I saw those kids practising at the circus course, and I saw those stallions… Big Mac, Shining Armour, Fancy Pants, Soarin, Wind Rider, ponies respect stallions like them. Those guys make a difference, ponies listen to them. They can motivate ponies, inspire ponies. I loved feeling like that, I still do. I want other ponies to feel inspired like that. But the fact is I’m just not like those stallions.”

“Sure you are. Look at what you did for Diamond Tiara, or Scootaloo. You can be motivating or inspiring, you just have to use your voice.”

“What voice? You mean this squeaky thing down my throat? Who’d listen to that?”

“But boys aren’t supposed to-” She fell silent. Something nagged at the back of her head, warning her not to go any further down that train of thought, not if she wanted to avoid offending him. “Oh. Oooh, that’s why.”

Rumble turned his head to face her again, scowling. “Boys aren’t supposed to what? Have deeper voices already? Look different from girls already? Yes, they are, and they do. They all do. Name one boy in our class who’s got a girly voice like mine. Name one boy you would mistake for a girl the first time you saw him. Face it: I’m the only one.”

Button Mash? No, he had a good, strong chin, same as Shady Daze. Featherweight? No, he had a deeper voice already. Pipsqueak had a pretty high-pitched voice, but even he wasn’t that girly, and he was younger to boot. “But that’s no reason to go crazy practising. You can’t force yourself to grow up. Trust me, I’d know.”

“No, but I can force myself to look grown up. I can do things that grownups do, so I get treated like one. I wanted to look like a pony who could dive and catch a pony his size, so I started diving and catching ponies my size. I wanted to look like a pony with seven wingpower, so I went and got seven wingpower. This is what a pony like that looks like. This is what I look like. I don’t need to grow up faster, I just need to grow up one more bit, so I don’t look like a girl anymore. I just… I want to feel like a stallion. I want to do for ponies what my brother can do, what the Wonderbolt stallions can do.”

“Then why start something girly like that dance stuff in the first place?”

“Because I didn’t think it would matter when I started! I had it all thought out, I had a plan. I had a schedule. It didn’t bother me at first, but then Featherweight’s voice changed, and Snips and Snails, everypony in our class. Mine didn’t. I’ve always been girly, but I thought it would pass. I just thought it’d be over one day, you know? Maybe if I trained harder, I’d be leaner, fitter, there’d be more of a difference. I just kept telling myself it was a problem with my routine, with my schedule. I never had the right routine to show off like a stallion would, that’s what I thought. But that wasn’t the real problem. You’re right: I can’t force it. The problem’s with me. The problem’s always been me.”

Sweetie Belle’s heart felt like it broke at that. “And you couldn’t even quit. Nopony would let you.” 

He shook his head. “I’m so talented and dedicated, it’d be a waste. That’s what everypony says. And besides, Diamond Tiara’s my friend, I couldn’t leave her hanging, not when we were getting to the advanced stuff. She’s scared of heights, and I’m the only one she can trust. And that class is the only place where I can practise flying like that. There aren’t any teachers who can tell me how to act around important ponies, either, not for regular kids like me. I did that, on purpose. And, you know, my big brother is already on the Weather Patrol. I wanted to do something he didn’t do, so I wouldn’t end up having to stay in his shadow all the time. Turns out it worked. Just not the way I wanted.”

She nodded. “Okay, I get all that. You’re a late bloomer, like Scootaloo, and that hurts. What I don’t get is why.”

“Why what?”

“Why is it so bad that you get confused for a girl? There’s plenty of strong mares around, plenty of Wonderbolt mares. Everypony else is okay with it, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be.”

“You wouldn’t know. No offense, but you’re a girl. No one confuses you for a boy.”

“Scootaloo looks like a boy, she gets that sometimes,” Sweetie argued. 

“Sure, but when Scootaloo gets confused for a boy, ponies assume she likes boy stuff. Which, turns out, she does. She likes scootering, bungee jumping, the works. Take one look at her and you can tell.” Rumble argued. “When ponies confuse me for a girl, they assume I like girly stuff, like dresses, and make-up, and… dancing. I don’t. Or they tell me it’s okay to do this or that, because there’s lots of girls like me who do it.”

“Okay, but that’s still pretty tame. Grooming and make-up are pretty close, and so are aerial performance and dancing.”

“It’s not just that, Sweetie Belle, you’re not listening to me. Nopony ever does.”

She nudged him. “So keep going.”

He clenched his eyes shut and sighed. “Suppose ponies confused you for a boy, and every single time they assumed you liked getting dirty, or playing hoofball, or whatever the colts in class do. You wouldn’t like it either.”

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t I? It doesn’t sound that bad to me, and it shouldn’t bother you that much, either. Ponies don’t laugh at girly boys in the first place. They’re fine with it. Why aren’t you? Nopony laughed at Big Macintosh when he wore a dress.”

Rumble gulped. “When Big Macintosh wears a dress, everyone can tell it’s Big Macintosh in a dress. When I wear a dress, everyone thinks I’m a girl wearing a dress.”

“So...”

“It doesn’t matter that ponies don’t laugh at girly boys. I am fine with girly boys, I don’t mind girly stuff. What I mind is being treated like something I’m not. I’m a boy. I was born a boy. I like being a boy. You want to know why I spend that much time, and that much energy, trying to act like a Wonderbolt stallion? Because when ponies look at me, they see a filly. If ponies can’t treat me like a colt, I’ll make them treat me like a stallion. I don’t...” He wiped his eyes. 

“What?”

“If you really want to know why it bugs me so much, imagine this. Imagine you had a brother who was already a fine stallion. Ponies call him lazy, but he still does his best. He doesn’t brag, he doesn’t show off, he just does his job, and he does it well. He’s a Wonderbolt stallion. And he’s on speaking terms with some of the best stallions around. Imagine being surrounded by stallions who are better than you. Imagine being reminded every day of how awesome stallions can be, and imagine doing everything you could to be like them. But every time you do, every single time, some pony reminds you not only are you not like them, but you never will be. That’s what it’s like. I’ve seen the best, I know what they can do, I know what they’re like. I know what I want to be like. And no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, ponies still see me as a filly. Do you have any idea what it’s like to know exactly who you want to be like, to do everything right just like them, and still not get the same respect?”

Sweetie Belle’s heart skipped a beat. 

You can help by putting the parsley on. 

She could almost feel the humiliation of that birthday party again, the thick layer of lipstick, the saggy dress, the shoes that were too big.

I didn’t know you could burn juice. 

And Rarity handing out party favours, getting the guests to stay. 

That was the last of my gold silk!

She caught herself before that train of thought went off the rails. “No. No, I don’t know what that’s like at all. I mean, I don’t have a brother. But I can imagine that’s pretty harsh. Just one thing, though: Thunderlane is a grownup. So are the Wonderbolt stallions. You’re not going to grow up faster by training.”

“I don’t care. I just want everything to feel right again. And if I have to act like a stallion for that, I will. There’s no way I’m going to grow up as-” He clenched his jaw before he could finish that sentence.

Sweetie Belle felt a familiar pang in her chest at that. “Wait, hold on. You think you’re never going to be a stallion? Ever? Like, medically? Have you talked to a doctor about that?”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Of course I have. My dance instructor makes her performers get a check-up every once in a while. I… the doctors always tell me it takes time. Thunderlane tells me it takes time, my mom and dad tell me it takes time. So, like any smart pony, I put time in it. I spend as many hours as I can, working hard to look the way I want to.”

“Rumble, that is not how that works! If the doctors say you’re fine, then you’re fine. That’s how it was for Scootaloo, remember?”

Rumble shook his head. “No, it wasn’t, and you know it. Scootaloo hadn’t seen a doctor, ever. I have, lots of times. And they always tell me that I’m a late bloomer. Every check-up, nothing’s changed, still a girly colt this time. And then the next time, and the next. Every morning I wake up thinking maybe something’s changed, maybe I won’t look or sound like a girl anymore. And every morning, it’s the same.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “The only time I’ve managed to make any real change was for tornado duty. I lost my baby fat, I got lean and hard, like a real athlete. And you know what happened? Ponies thought I was a very sporty filly. My muscles are as hard as I can make them, and they’re still squishy. I started hanging out with you girls, and instead of being the boy with three filly friends, I’m the fourth girl in your group.”

That gave Sweetie Belle pause for thought. There she was, with a boy in her room, on her bed with him, even, unabashed, like he was one of the girls. But he was her friend, surely that wasn’t the same thing? “Not to us, you’re not.”

He smiled and nodded. “I know. I like hanging out with you. You girls are fun.”

“Of course,” Sweetie Belle slapped herself. “You feel like a stallion when we ask you for a favour. You only accept because we keep saying we need a boy.”

He nodded. “I like being needed. I like to help. And… if you girls need a boy, I like being that boy.”

“Gosh, Rumble, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it mattered that much. But you’ve got nothing to worry about, look at you! You’re already doing Wonderbolt level moves, you’ve managed to get a reputation in Canterlot. You can afford to take it easy sometimes.”

“No, I can’t. What if my voice is always this squeaky? What if I never get a stallion’s chin, even if I make it to the Wonderbolts?”

That sounded hauntingly familiar. “You’d still be awesome. You’d still be a Wonderbolt, just like your brother.”

“No. I’d be a Wonderbolt, like Rainbow Dash or Spitfire. I’d be a Wonderbolt mare, until I tell everypony otherwise. I want it to stop. I just wanna be a stallion already, like my brother is, like my heroes are. I’ve worked so hard, I deserve it. Don’t I?”

“Yes, I get that. Really. I can imagine that gets on your nerves. But...”

“But?”

“But then why not try to bulk up? You can put on some muscle, if you tried.”

“I already have,” he retorted. “That tornado thing got me to lose some pounds, and I’m already maxed out on wingpower. I’m built like a rescue flyer, like a performer. I look like a pony who can catch and save someone as heavy as he is, because I am that kind of pony. And I still look girly.”

“But you can’t keep this up, Rumble. You’re only going to end up hurting yourself if you don’t learn to have a little bit of fun. Don’t you think maybe getting your cutie mark would help ponies see you as a stallion?”

He looked down at his flank. “If it’s a good one, maybe. But so what? I can’t control when I get my cutie mark. But I can work out, I can watch what I eat.”

“That’s kind of my point. You want to be the best at flying. You do that aerial performing to get better at flying. You don’t do that to relax, you do that with a purpose: to make ponies see you differently, to feel different. Maybe sometimes you fly for fun, but not all the time, not anymore. You’ve gotten so attached to just one goal you can’t do anything that’s not all about that one goal. It wouldn’t matter if it was a stallion thing or not, you’d still be just as uptight about it. I’ll bet you fly on such a tight schedule, you even feel sick when you miss a day.”

He grumbled. “Have you been talking to my mom?”

“I don’t need to. My big sister is just like that. Thing is, she still treats herself to days at the spa when she’s done a good job. Or she goes out to enjoy herself. Everything you’re doing right now, every bit of flying, every second in school, even the dancing, none of that is fun. It’s all with a purpose, and that means it’s work. Real stallions do work, but they take breaks when they need to. You don’t. So, if you don’t mind me saying so, maybe you wanna try finding something to enjoy. Something that’s not competitive, maybe. Something you don’t have to be good at, or better yet, something you can’t be good at. You know, maybe you could make some friends over that, and you’d have someone to compare to.”

“What friends? There’s no other pony in town like me.”

“I know. Except Diamond Tiara, sort of. That’s, umm, that’s the other part of why I asked you over. Me and the girls, mostly me, we tried to find somepony else who was into the whole dedicated practice thing. That’s why that whole mess with Zippy happened. I saw Rose Petal and Willow Bark in Canterlot. And I thought Zippy was you.”

“So you mistook me for a girl. Thanks for proving my point.”

She chuckled nervously. “Eheh, yeah, just once. But, in my defence, you were covered up. I thought maybe if I got you and that girl together, it’d be good for you. So I asked Missus Swirl and one thing led to another. I’m really sorry, I should have told you.”

He blushed. “You talked to Missus Swirl about me? What did she say?”

“She spoke very highly of you, both of you. But she did mention you were a little too, umm, highly strung.”

He nodded. “Uhuh. So, what, you want me to get a different hobby now, stop flying so much and then I’ll lighten up and get my cutie mark?”

“No. I’d tell you to just lighten up, but… if it was that easy, you’d have done that already. I really wanted to help you get a cutie mark, Rumble, honest. But the truth is, I don’t think there’s anything I can say, or any other pony, that’d get through to you. I think you do have to work it out on your own. I can tell you to get a hobby, but I can’t pick one for you. And I don’t want you to stop flying so much. If you’re really that dedicated, and if you can keep yourself safe, then I don’t have any business telling you to stop. It’s just the hours you’re not flying that I might look into.”

He smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being honest. And not talking down to me.”

“Any time.”

They sat back and looked at each other in Sweetie’s mirror.

“It’s strange, you know,” Sweetie Belle said.

“What?”

“Next to Scootaloo or Apple Bloom, you do look kind of girly. No offence.”

“None taken.”

She shuffled even closer to him, to the point their faces touched, so she could compare more easily. “But next to me, next to a girly girl, you look like a proper stallion. I guess that’s why you like Diamond Tiara, too, huh? She makes you look more boyish.”

He perked up at that. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. But that’s only because I’m not wearing my costume. Like I said, you’d never know I was a boy if I wore a dress. Not like the other colts in school.”

Sweetie gasped. “That’s it!” She jumped and rushed to her dresser. “Lie back, I have an idea.”

“What? Why? Whoa!” Before he could react, a magical pull flung him backwards. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, I can make a real stallion out of you right here and now.” She rummaged through her stuff and hopped over to straddle him. 

“What the-hey, don’t-” He wriggled under her weight, but she pushed him down. 

“Hold still, this’ll only take a second. It’ll feel a little wet at first, but… there.” Sweetie got off of him and pushed him upright.

“What was that for?” He rubbed his chest, still confused at what she’d done. 

“Just look in the mirror.”

He looked and had to suppress a gasp. Even without Sweetie Belle next to him, the difference was staggering. “I’m… I’m a stallion? How?”

She went to her drawer again and got a piece of cloth to wrap around his neck. “A little bit of gel on your chest, and some styling into peaks, makes it look fuzzier and less girly smooth. And if you wear a scarf, you can look really masculine, just like Big Mac.”

“I’ve already tried dressing up, Sweetie Belle. Last Nightmare Night, everypony thought I was dressed up as Fleetfoot.” He gagged. 

“Maybe, but that was a Wonderbolts costume.”

“Huh?” He squinted, confused. 

“A skintight costume, like what you wear when you perform,” Sweetie explained.  “You don’t have the size or the angles of a stallion yet, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fake it. Here. It’s only a hanky, but just try it.”

Rumble didn’t object as the piece of cloth was wrapped around his neck. He did remark on it once it was done, though. With the artificially fuzzed up chest covered, he looked like a proper Canterlot lady. “See? Just makes me look girly.”

“Do you always wear it like that?”

“I don’t usually wear anything, but yes. That’s how they wear it in Canterlot, that’s how I learned. Same with bow ties.”

“And who taught you how to wear those?”

“I saw a couple girls explain it, in the dressing rooms. What does that matter?”

She nudged him again. “See, that’s your problem. This is how girls wear scarves: tight around the neck.”

“And you’d know, how?”

“I saw it in a picture, Apple Bloom showed me. Look, girls wear it like this to look slender, but boys wear stuff on their neck more loosely, like this.” Another tug of magic, and the hanky spread out. She gave him a gentle rub around his collarbone. “Leave your throat exposed, and a little bit of your chest covered. That makes your neck look bigger, and your shoulders look broader. Big Macintosh looks bigger around the neck because he wears a collar, and Fancy Pants wears his tuxedo to look bigger, too.”

Rumble tilted his head. “Huh. I never thought about that.”

“See? All the girls you hang out with only know how girls pretty up, because they’re just that: pretty girls. None of the boys around town know how groom or accessorise at all. The only boy in town who does that is you, and nopony taught you. But my sister does this sort of thing all the time. It’s just like you said: sometimes it’s the little things that trip you up. And sometimes a different perspective helps.”

“Like Scootaloo and Thunderlane?”

“Exactly. Or me and you.” She shrugged and smiled.  “I know this doesn’t fix everything, but… you already act like a proper stallion, you really do.” She gestured to the scarf.  “It doesn’t take much to make you look like a proper stallion. Ponies would recognise you for the boy you are if you made just a tiny little adjustment. But more importantly…” She winced in sympathy. “Maybe if you started seeing yourself as one, you’d feel like one, too.”

He chuckled. “Maybe.”

“And don’t forget that you can talk to ponies, okay? Even if it’s not me or the girls, there’s still Rainbow Dash and Miss Cheerilee.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Or, you know, ponies who wouldn’t mess it up. Big Macintosh would probably understand. So would Rarity.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. And I’ll take your Cutie Mark Crusader advice and see if maybe I can’t find anything else to do for fun. Just for fun. On my own. When I’m not doing my reps.”

She smiled at him. “Let me know what it is when you find it, and I’ll join you.”

He looked her in the eyes and blushed, confused.

“You know, just for fun. And research for other cutie mark problems. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Oh, and speaking of fun, I had another idea for Diamond Tiara’s birthday present, and I was wondering if you wanted to join in.”

“What is it?”

“Just a sleepover and a movie night. Me, Diamond, some friends. Mostly girls, but one other boy.”

“Oh, okay. Anypony I know?”





“Spike!” 

The dragon came waddling towards the entrance. “What is it, Twilight?”

“They’re here. Did you get the snacks?”

Spike counted the first load of snacks on his fingers. “Err, the nachos are done, the cheese is in the oven, popcorn is popping, hot pockets are defrosting. Hey, girls.”

“Hi, Spike,” the girls said in unison. 

“Hey, Rumble,” Spike greeted.

The boy’s ears twitched. “Hey, Spike.”

“Everypony bring their sleeping bags?” Twilight asked. 

As one, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, along with Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, and Rumble, held up their bags, containing peejays and sleeping bags.

“Good. It was a little bit short notice, but I have a wonderful evening planned.”

“Umm, what exactly do you have planned?” Rumble asked.

“Movie night,” Spike replied. “We turned one of the castle halls into a cinema room when Tirek wrecked the one downtown. Now that they’ve fixed it, it’s a private movie theatre.”

The herd of kids walked on, Rumble still in pondering mode. “So… we’re just going to watch movies? Just that?”

“Yup, just that. It’s Pirates of the Merry Bean: six hours of non-stop swashbuckling and black magic and undead. What, you don’t like movies?”

“I don’t usually watch movies,” Rumble replied. “Kinda busy, you know? Flying and all.”

Spike nodded. “Oh, yeah, me too. There’s always stuff to do around here.”

“Make sure you check on dinner, Spike. You don’t want a repeat of last time you had to rush a defrosting.”

Without another word, the dragon was off. 

The rest of the herd got out their sleeping bags and took position in the move room, Twilight behind them. Spike brought in plates of nachos, chips, popcorn, the works.

“What’s that smell?” Rumble asked, curling his nose. “Smells plastic-y.” 

Spike quickly dashed off to close a door in the back. “That is the smell of a well-kept collection.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “He likes to keep his comic book collection in bags. It’s a good way to keep them in mint condition, but the plastic can get a bit smelly sometimes. Not to mention the ink on the fresh copies.”

Rumble tilted his head. “Comic book collection?”

“Yeah. You don’t have any comics?” Spike asked. 

“Well, no. I mean, it’s not like there’s any competition for it, right?”

Spike shrugged. “Comics aren’t for competing; they’re for reading. And to brag about owning. Did you know there’s only three issues of the Power Ponies with a misprint on the cover?”

“Err… no? I guess that must be rare, then, huh?”

“I’ll say,” Spike replied. “You gotta go all the way to Canterlot to get the good foreign comics, but trying to catch a train in this town is a nightmare. I mean, seriously, why do I need to show my ID every single time?! Rainbow Dash flies into five buildings after a night out and nopony bats an eye, but I burn down one train cart-”

“Spike, what did I tell you about your train rant?” Twilight asked.

“Don’t bother other ponies with it; it’s not their fault,” he droned. 

“I thought Canterlot was pretty close to Ponyville?” Rumble asked. 

“Yes, but it’s still too far for a baby dragon to walk,” Twilight said as she set up the projector. “And it’s definitely too far to walk alone. So that leaves the train, but you have to plan ahead for that, and Sir Dragon doesn’t always manage that.”

Spike almost choked on a popcorn kernel then. “Hey, it’s not my fault your magic missile muffin misfired.”

“So why not just fly to Canterlot?” Rumble asked. 

“Ixnay on the ying-flay, Rumble,” Sweetie Belle whispered. 

Spike shrugged awkwardly. “I haven’t grown wings yet. I’m not even sure if I’ll ever grow any.”

“Can’t somepony else fly you, then?" the colt argued. "It’s only a short flight.”

“Yeah, but Twilight doesn’t usually have twenty minutes to spare to fly me that far.”

Rumble quirked an eyebrow. “Twenty minutes? Canterlot’s, like, five minutes away.”

Spike shook his head. “Nuh-uh. It’s twenty minutes, with me on her back.”

“Five minutes,” Rumble insisted. “With Diamond Tiara on mine.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Prove it.”

Twilight had the oddest sense of déjà vu then. She quickly checked where her umbrella was, just in case. “Boys, no. There will be no proving tonight, nor any challenges, gauntlets, or duels.”

The two boys still glared at each other.

“And no bets, either!”

“Aww,” the boys whined.

“Really, you two, you can save that for tomorrow. Tonight is just a movie night. Which reminds me: happy birthday, Diamond Tiara. I had a present ready around here somewhere...”

“Let’s take care of that after the Kraken shows up, okay, Twilight? Now come on, it’s showtime!” Spike called out and flopped on some cushions that had suspicious dragonscale-shaped indentations in them.

Rumble settled in. A movie night wasn’t his cup of tea, but he’d never tried it before, he might as well. Thunderlane knew where he was. He didn’t ponder it long, since he was distracted by a warmth on his flanks. Sweetie Belle was nestled in close against him. 

“You don’t mind if I stay close, do you? It’s got monsters, and I always get scared when monsters show up,” she whispered. “And Scootaloo just makes it worse.”

He unfurled a wing over her back. “I don’t mind. That’s what Wonderbolts are for.”

“Thanks. But you don’t need to act like a Wonderbolt now. It’s a movie night. You can relax.”

As Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon got settled in, Spike got everyone what they wanted like a good host - including some carrots for the health freak colt to munch on - and flopped back onto his seat. With a flash of unicorn magic and the whirr of a projector, the movie started to play. Rumble let out a content sigh and smiled when the room went dark.  

“Yeah. It’s just a movie.”

To his side, Spike was already sitting comfortably, with his snacks, enjoying a treat well earned. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were huddled together like he and Sweetie Belle were, while Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were already making bets about who’d jump first. 

No pressure, no performance. 

Or rather, somepony else doing the performing, and performing something he wouldn’t have to repeat later. 

He let his body unwind against Sweetie Belle’s and kept her close with his wing, smiling as the lights dimmed and the movie started. “I think I can relax to this.”

The end.