Dear Sunset,
I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. Your last letter gave me a lot to consider, and I wanted to think hard about what I should say before replying. (As a matter of fact, I may have broken all my quills drafting every possible response I could give you.)
Also, I’m worried about how you will take my advice. As difficult as this is for me to say, I think you should stay at Canterlot High, at least for now. Moving to another dimension is not something to be done hastily, and even less something to be done as the result of a few melancholy feelings—not that I am trying to make light of your struggles. I am simply trying to show you the danger of basing such an important decision on your current emotional state. Moods can change, and living in Equestria you may find yourself longing for the human world just as much as you now long for the pony one. Moreover, you should recognize some important facts that could influence your emotions.
It’s the fate of your friendships I’m most worried about. I know, my position as the Princess of Friendship may bias me somewhat, but I feel they are more important than perhaps even you realize. I am loath to break even a single friendship in the name of personal satisfaction. I sincerely believe that far greater joy can be found in cultivating the bonds you share with your friends. That is, after all, why I stayed in Ponyville when Princess Celestia offered me the chance to return to my studies in Canterlot. Though I had only known them for a brief time, I knew I would regret leaving my friends more than giving up the familiarity of my home.
So, at least for now, I urge patience. Focus on your friendships, and try not to brood so much on your longing for Equestria. I will continue to offer you support an advice as it comes to me. In the meantime, please know that I wish nothing but the best for you.
Your friend,
Twilight
Sunset snapped the book shut with a soft thump. She glanced around to see if the noise had disturbed any of her classmates but saw there was no need to worry. Most were staring at the whiteboard with weary expressions ranging from mild confusion to plain boredom. One girl sitting on the other side of the room seemed to be furtively working on social studies homework, and a boy in the back seemed intent on making the classroom’s clock burst into flames through shear willpower. No one, however, paid the slightest attention to Sunset’s sudden frustration with her private diary, just as they had been oblivious when the book had started glowing and vibrating a few minutes previously.
Perhaps that was for the best. None of the other students cared if a princess had just crushed Sunset’s dreams under the weight of politely oppressive platitudes. Their dreary lives certainly could not be upset by missives from another dimension, a place filled with magic and wonder. None of them had ever been to a land of talking ponies, none of them had ever galloped among the gleaming spires of Canterlot, none of them had ever beheld the stunning beauty of a rainbow pool illuminated by the rising sun, none of them had ever felt the giddy power of channeling magic through her body as she cast her first spell…
Well, one other person had experienced that last one. And that person was currently sitting in the front row of the classroom, frantically transcribing the teacher’s notes on the applications of trigonometric substitutions in performing analytical integrations.
Twilight Sparkle.
Sunset smiled slightly as she watched Twilight struggle to copy not only every detail on the board but also every word the teacher said. The other girl’s head bobbed up and down as she repeatedly shifted her gaze between the whiteboard and her notebook. Her pen had not stopped moving for several minutes, and even as Sunset watched, Twilight’s other hand darted forward to turn the page without breaking the rhythm of her ceaseless writing. Sunset had no idea how anyone could extract that much information from a calculus lecture.
Come to think of it, Sunset doubted Twilight even needed to pay attention. While calculus was the most advanced math class offered at Canterlot High, Twilight had surely already taken the subject at Crystal Prep. But it was just like her to put her full effort into studying a subject she had already mastered. Twilight would not consider her previously gained knowledge sufficient to carry her through the class; no, she would study hard and learn everything again to ensure success.
Perhaps that was why Twilight had been the one to win the academic decathlon at the Friendship Games. While it had been years since either she or Sunset had taken a geometry class, Twilight’s tendency completely master every subject she encountered meant she was prepared for the deceptively tricky problem that had decided the contest. In contrast, Sunset had dismissed her geometry class as a meager step toward advanced subjects that were more interesting, practical, and difficult. Consequently, she had nearly forgotten everything she had once known about congruent triangles by the time the Friendship Games had rolled around.
No, that was not quite it, either. Sunset’s technique had matched Twilight’s all the way up to the final answer during the last event of the decathlon. In the end, Sunset had made the stupidest of all mistakes and written down the wrong answer after filling a chalkboard with flawless mathematical logic. She was still not quite sure why she had put down the wrong angle (nor had she quite forgiven herself), but Sunset suspected she had been distracted by thoughts of Equestrian magic. After all, figuring out why magic was spontaneously appearing and disappearing was a far more important question than any geometry problem.
Not that it mattered now. With the teacher droning on about trig-sub integrations and several minutes left in class, there was nothing for Sunset to do but while away the time by not thinking about Princess Twilight’s letter.
It felt like half a lifetime until the bell finally rang and signaled the end of Sunset’s boredom. In an instant, Sunset gathered her things and marched straight for the exit. But when she reached the door, she caught a glimpse of Twilight still at her desk, methodically filing away her notes. With an internal sigh, Sunset stepped to the side and let the mass of impatient students pass around her. She leaned against the wall as she waited for Twilight packed her backpack.
Twilight stood and walked toward the door with self-absorbed absentmindedness. Her eyes momentarily widened when she noticed Sunset standing there.
“Ready for lunch?” Sunset asked.
“Um, I guess.” Twilight avoided Sunset’s gaze, opting instead to stare at an empty bulletin board a few feet to the side. Her fingers fidgeted with the strap on her backpack.
After a couple seconds of silence, Sunset pushed the door open and led the way into the hallway. “Come on,” she called back to Twilight. “I’ll show you where the girls usually sit at lunch.”
“Ok.” Twilight shuffled after Sunset, staying half a pace behind her as Sunset led the way to the cafeteria.
Sunset stepped around a group of chatting freshmen and glanced back at Twilight. “So how are you enjoying your first day at CHS?”
Twilight looked like someone had just asked her to solve the Navier-Stokes equations. Actually, Twilight looked like she would have preferred doing that to answering Sunset’s question. “It’s alright,” she eventually squeaked out.
Deciding not to press the question, Sunset turned her attention to maneuvering through the sea of meandering students that lay before her. She strode confidently through the crowd as Twilight scampered along behind her. A minute later they joined the current of people heading to lunch and were drawn into the cafeteria.
Sunset spotted four of her friends sitting at their normal table in the center of the room. She waved in their direction and nudged Twilight. “See where the girls are sitting over there? Let’s grab some food and join them.”
“Shouldn’t there be five of them?” Twilight asked as they got in line for food. Her face furrowed as she tried to run through the list of names she had only learned a short time ago. “I see Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and, um, what’s her name—oh, Fluttershy. That just leaves…”
“Hi girls!” Pinkie Pie’s face appeared in front of Sunset, extremely close and upside down. She proceeded to rotate upright until she was standing in line ahead of them.
Twilight, meanwhile, jumped a foot backward and nearly collided with the girl standing behind her.
“Hi, Pinkie,” said Sunset. “Having a good morning?”
“Yep!” Pinkie bounced up and down with her usual cheer. “I had fifteen cookies for breakfast, then I talked with Fluttershy on the bus, and I counted, she spoke like thirty words—I think that’s a new record for her—and I aced my geology quiz, and then I nearly fell asleep in history until I realized we were learning about nation-wide parties, and how does that even work, I mean, is there like one giant conga line going on for miles and miles and…” Pinkie Pie snagged an apple off the lunch counter as she talked. She popped the whole thing in her mouth like a grape as she rambled on.
Sunset’s attention, though, had been drawn to the expression on Twilight’s face. It was not the usual look of bewilderment that often accompanied an interaction with Pinkie Pie, nor was it the glazed-eyed boredom of those who did not care for her bubbly optimism. Rather, the tightness in Twilight’s forehead and the slight stretch to her lips could best be described as fearful.
Not that Pinkie Pie seemed to notice. She continued to ramble on about square dances and traffic laws and the concavity of French horns as the three girls filled their lunch trays and headed to the table where the others were waiting.
“Howdy,” said Applejack as Sunset sat down next to her. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Sunset replied automatically. She dug into her food without a moment’s hesitation.
It was not until Pinkie Pie plopped down in the seat across from her that Sunset noticed the problem. Their table only had six chairs, which left Twilight standing awkwardly without a place to sit. She shifted uncomfortably, as if unsure what to do in such a situation.
Rarity noticed at the same time Sunset did. With a dramatic flourish, Rarity swept to her feet and gestured to her empty chair. “Take my seat, please.”
“Um, ok.” Twilight twitched slightly and moved to take Rarity’s place. Rarity, meanwhile, turned to the nearest table and asked the boys there if she could borrow a chair in the most graciously manipulative request Sunset had ever heard.
“So how’d your first day go?” Rainbow Dash leaned across the table to stare at Twilight. “Was it as cool as you expected?”
“I suppose.” Twilight took a sudden interest in the sandwich in front of her.
“Did you make a good first impression?” Rarity asked as she returned with a new chair.
“Did you meet some new friends?” Applejack said simultaneously.
“Was your first day fun?” Pinkie Pie added.
Twilight’s head swiveled back and forth as she sifted through the barrage of questions. After several seconds of silence, a quiet “Yes?” was all she said.
“That’s good.” Fluttershy nodded encouragingly at Twilight. “I remember being scared my first day here.”
“You were?” Twilight almost managed a smile as she turned to look at Fluttershy.
“Yeah, but at least she had friends there looking out for her.” Rainbow Dash threw an arm around Fluttershy’s shoulders. “We made sure everything went great.”
“Ooh, yes.” Rarity shivered with the excitement of memory. “I gave you pointers on walking with proper poise. I couldn’t bear to see you shuffling through the halls so timidly. I remember you were starting to follow my advice so splendidly, at least until…” Her eyes met Sunset’s and she trailed off.
The table fell silent for an uncomfortably long stretch of time. Twilight did not seem to notice.
“So anyway, tell us about your first day,” Applejack said.
Twilight reached up a hand and adjusted her glasses. “Well, I don’t really know where to start.”
“I know! You should start with how long it took to eat breakfast!”
“Pinkie, what does that have to do with anything? Twilight, just start with how you felt when you first got to school and then go from there.”
“And don’t leave anything out.”
“Especially if it involves meeting anyone interesting.”
“Or parties!”
“And what about Spike? Did you bring him with you, or did you have to leave him at home?”
With that, the table that had been unpleasantly quiet a moment ago was a chattering mess of questions and side comments. Twilight, unable or perhaps just unwilling to get in a single word, listened to the babble with apprehensive fascination.
“Alright, girls.” Sunset motioned her friends and pointed to Twilight. “I think the idea was to ask Twilight to talk?”
The inquisitorial bombardment abruptly ceased as the six girls honed their attention on Twilight’s response. For her part, Twilight dropped her gaze and poked at her food with a fork.
“You do know that’s a sandwich, right?” Rainbow Dash waved her hand at the mangled slices bread on Twilight’s plate.
“What?” Twilight immediately dropped her fork and lurched back in her chair. One hand rose toward her ear to fiddle with a strand of hair. “I mean…well…I guess…”
“Yes, darling?” Rarity placed what she surely thought was a comforting hand on Twilight’s arm.
Twilight, though, seemed to think differently. She yanked her arm away from Rarity. After a wild look around the table, Twilight jerked to her feet. She grabbed her lunch tray and hurried to an empty table on the far side of the lunchroom.
The other girls just blinked as they watched Twilight leave. Even Pinkie Pie sat motionless for the whole minute that followed.
“Was it something I did?” Rarity ventured at last.
“No, it wasn’t just you.” Applejack shook her head. “I reckon it’s all our faults.”
“What do you mean?” Rainbow Dash rose halfway out of her chair as her eyes narrowed in accusation. “We were being great friends to Twilight.”
“I think we scared her.” Fluttershy nodded her head toward the corner where Twilight now sat alone. “For someone new to friendship, we can be a bit…much.”
“Yeah, especially you, Fluttershy!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed. Five angry glares directed themselves toward her. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.
“Well, the important thing is, we all messed up, and we owe Twilight an apology.” Applejack stood up. She swept her hat off her head and held before her in a gesture of meekness.
“But we can’t simply all go at once,” Rarity countered. “It would only make the problem worse if all of us traipsed over there to apologize.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Applejack reluctantly lowered herself back down to her seat. “But we can’t just do nothing.”
“Tell you what.” Sunset scooted her chair back from the table and rose wearily to her feet. Seeing that Twilight had left her backpack behind when she had run off, Sunset reached down to grab it. “I’ll go apologize for all of us.”
“Ok.” Sunset noted Rainbow Dash sat rather rigidly, as if not quite convinced it was a good idea. “But call us over if you think Twilight’ll talk to us.”
Sunset nodded her acknowledgement and headed across the lunchroom. As she worked her way around crowded tables of merry friends, Sunset felt her heart sink. She wished Twilight had not had such a bad first experience with friendship. What if an initial displeasure with this group caused Twilight to continue to isolate herself? What if one awkward lunch caused Twilight’s earlier interest in making friends to wither?
Sunset’s mind drifted into the past as she walked. When she had first gotten to know the other girls, it had been a lifeline amid a world of misery. The vindictive stares of angry classmates, the harsh treatment of disapproving faculty, the constant nausea of her own guilt—her life after the fall formal had been a mire of wretchedness. But the support of her friends, though imperfect at times, had made that time almost bearable. She had clung to her new-formed friendships because that was all she had, even while knowing their friendship was more than she deserved.
Would Twilight feel the same burdens after her experience with magic? Sunset knew the students at CHS would treat Twilight far more kindly than they had ever treated her, but Twilight would never know that if she kept herself distanced from everypony—everybody—else. And who knew how heavily her guilt would weigh on her without the support of friends. Sunset hoped it would not be too much for Twilight to bear.
Sunset blinked and realized she had reached Twilight’s table. Twilight’s back was to her, so she had not noticed Sunset standing next to her in a worried daze. Sunset snapped out of her musings and delicately set Twilight’s backpack on the floor next to her chair. “Hey, Twilight,” Sunset said quietly.
Twilight gave a small start and twisted around in her seat. She looked up at Sunset with a mix of surprise and apprehension. Her eyes flitted downward, and some of the tension seemed to leave her face as she noted the presence of her backpack.
“May I sit here?” Sunset asked with as much gentleness as she could manage.
After a moment of hesitation, Twilight gave a small nod. Taking that as a good sign, Sunset set her tray down and took a seat next to Twilight.
Twilight looked like she wanted to say something, but nothing ever left her lips. Sunset let the silence linger for a few seconds before finally speaking up. “The girls and I wanted to say we’re sorry.”
Twilight tilted her head quizzically.
“We’re a group of rather strong personalities, and I’m afraid we kind of overwhelmed you in our eagerness to talk with you.”
Twilight gave another slight nod.
“I know the others had nothing but good intentions in wanting to get to know you. But if you’re not quite ready to talk to the whole group yet, maybe we can take our friendship with you a bit slower. Make it something your more comfortable with.”
Though it was barely noticeable, Twilight’s posture relaxed a bit. Her voice was a bit dry as she responded, “I think I’d prefer that.”
“Alright, then.” Sunset paused, uncertain whether it would be a good idea to ask Twilight a question to keep the conversation moving, or if that would just stress her out again.
Before Sunset could figure out what to say next, Twilight actually spoke up. “I’m not really mad at them, I suppose.” She broke off for a second as she pondered her words. “It’s like you said: I simply wasn’t ready for that much social interaction all at once.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be more careful in the future.”
“Thank you.” Twilight looked like she wanted to go on, so Sunset waited for her to speak again. Eventually, Twilight seemed to gather the resolve to continue talking. You know, when I came to sit over here, I had a brief thought that maybe friendship just wasn’t for me. Imagine that. I was worried that friendship—the whole reason I transferred to CHS—was going to turn out to be something I hated, and I had changed schools for nothing. Crazy, right?”
Sunset felt an odd twinge in her stomach. “Yeah, crazy,” she managed to say.
Twilight seemed to light up with new energy as she talked. “But I think you’re right. If we carefully monitor the inputs to the system and minimize the possibility of oversaturation, I’m positive friendship will work out fine. I’m sure there’s no need to worry that my decision to move here was the wrong one.
“Anyway, I’ve been studying how one is supposed to talk to friends. I believe one traditionally begins by asking, ‘How are you doing?’”
Sunset almost smiled at Twilight’s eager diligence in learning about friendship. But some nameless anxiety had thrown her momentarily off balance, and Sunset had to put some effort into forcing herself back into the flow of the conversation.
“Fine, thanks.” That was not even entirely a lie, Sunset supposed. Moreover, she did not want to ruin the standard conversation formula by dumping her vague concerns on someone just learning how to talk with friends. “How about you?”
