Twilight thinks that Starlight and Trixie should reconnect with their childhoods. Where that leads will change their lives.
Trixie saw it first, and then so did Twilight: Starlight has a problem, and it all leads back to her childhood. Something inside still haunts her and keeps her from truly fitting in. But when Trixie arrives one morning to mooch a free breakfast and propose a silly plan, Twilight never expected it to send her beloved student running from the room in tears.
The only way to deal with this will be for Starlight to confront her childhood fears, but this time, she'll have Trixie by her side. Still, all the planning and checklists in the world can't prepare Twilight for where this will lead them. In the end, all of their lives will be changed.
Please note that as of season 8, new additions to the canon have shunted this story into alternate universe territory.
The knocking at the front door of the castle was persistent. Whoever was out there showed no signs of leaving.
Twilight Sparkle paused just as she was about to take a bite of her breakfast, a forkful of pancake and whipped cream levitating in front of her. It was early in the morning. Too early to reasonably expect any visitors. And besides, it was Pancake Day. It was unlikely that she’d have scheduled anyone to visit so early on this of all days. Less likely still that she’d have forgotten about it.
She looked questioningly across the kitchen table at Starlight Glimmer. Starlight was her first and, thus far, only student in the study of friendship, magic, and the magic of friendship. She’d long since graduated, and there was no reason for her to still be living with Twilight except for the fact that neither one was ready to give the other up. Starlight’s mouth was full, and she could only offer a bewildered shrug in response. The two of them turned to look at Spike, who was standing on a stool in front of the stove as he finished up a last batch of pancakes for himself. Spike, being a baby dragon, was heating the griddle by breathing fire on it. Spike, being Spike, had adorned himself with a tiny chef’s hat. Pancake Day only came once a week, and he liked to add a bit of ceremony to it.
“Well, don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m not expecting anyone.” He dipped a ladle into a bowl of batter and measured out a short stack’s worth of pancakes onto the sizzling griddle. They took turns doing the cooking each week, but Spike’s pancakes tended to be the best.
The knocking continued.
“Do you want me to get that?” Spike asked.
“No, no, you finish up and eat,” Twilight replied. “I’ll get it. My front door, my responsibility, I guess.”
Twilight floated the forkful of pancake back to her plate, the magical aura fading from her unicorn horn. As she stood up from the cushion on which she sat at the low table, she hoped her food wouldn’t be too cold by the time she got back to it.
The castle's entryway was set a good distance away from the kitchen, and Twilight trotted down the long hallway towards it, her hooves echoing on the crystal floor. The place still felt too large to her, the way her role as a princess sometimes still did. She’d hated living in it at first, and had missed her old home. Unfortunately, Golden Oak library had been destroyed as abruptly as her transformation into an alicorn had been. She’d accepted her new home the same way she’d accepted her new responsibilities: reluctantly and nervously.
Still, her friends had helped to make the place livable, and Starlight’s arrival almost two years ago had filled some of the overwhelming emptiness in it. Most castles would have a staff to assist with its upkeep, and guards to protect the front door from unexpected guests. But so far, this one had exactly three residents, and as Twilight had chosen to be the Princess of Friendship, putting guards on the door just seemed wrong to her. And so here she was, going to greet whoever had decided to pay her a visit.
“I really hope this isn’t trouble,” she thought as she opened the door. “It’s too early in the day for that.”
Standing there before her was a blue unicorn, her mane white with blue highlights. “Greetings, your royal worshipfulness!” she said with an exaggerated bow.
Twilight sighed and closed her eyes, a thin smile on her face. It was trouble, all right, standing right on her doorstep.
“You are most fortunate,” she continued. “For this morning, you have received a very special visit from the great and powerful—”
“Good morning, Trixie,” Twilight said, cutting off her grandiose introduction as she opened her eyes. “And yes, it is very early in the morning. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Well, the great and powerful Trixie has come to call on her great and powerful best friend. Is Starlight home?”
“Yes,” Twilight replied. “She’s in the kitchen, eating breakfast. Like I was.”
“Oh,” said Trixie. “Did I arrive during breakfast? Terribly sorry. It’s Pancake Day, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Twilight replied, suddenly suspicious. “How did you know about that?”
“Oh, Starlight may have mentioned it yesterday. And Trixie decided to take a stroll before breakfast and may have remembered it.” Trixie paused a moment, looking almost embarrassed. “And...the great and powerful Trixie might have forgotten to go grocery shopping yesterday and found her cupboard a bit bare this morning and thought a visit with her friend might take her mind off that.”
Twilight had to stifle a laugh. This was Trixie being subtle. It was an opportunity she couldn’t let pass.
“Oh, well, then come right in,” she said. Trixie happily trotted through the doorway and headed for the kitchen. “You can wait in the study for us to finish, and then Starlight can come out and see you.”
Trixie froze in her tracks and slowly looked back at Twilight.
“Wait in...the study?” she asked.
“Sure,” said Twilight as she trotted past, trying her best to look blandly oblivious. “I can give you a nice book to read to pass the time. You can have a glass of water, too, if you like. It might be a while, though. We have so much to eat.”
“Oh…” said Trixie. “That would be...nice.”
She began to follow Twilight, the spring suddenly gone from her step. They walked on a few paces in silence before Twilight finally snuck a peek at her face, then burst out laughing.
“Oh…!” she gasped. “That look… You’re pouting. You look like a grumpy little kid!”
Trixie blushed furiously as Twilight finally regained her composure.
“I’m sorry, Trixie, that was kind of mean,” Twilight said. “Of course you can join us for pancakes. You can have as much as you like. I’ll even make them for you myself.”
“Oh,” replied Trixie, looking relieved. “Trixie appreciates your hospitality.”
“Did you really think I’d make you wait while we ate?” asked Twilight as they made their way down the long hallway.
“To be honest, Trixie is never really sure how you feel about her,” she said after a moment of consideration. “Our history has been a bit...” She paused as she searched for the right word. “Fraught? Is that a word? Is it the right word?”
“Yes, it’s word. And yes, it’s a pretty good word for it,” Twilight replied as they entered the dining room. “The first time we met, your boasting during your magic show about how great and powerful you were ended up with a baby ursa rampaging through town.”
“But that wasn’t my fault!” Trixie exclaimed. “I never told those two kids to lure it here to see me battle it!”
“And then you took over the town for a day and pretty much enslaved everyone with a cursed magical relic,” Twilight continued.
“Which was wrong and for which Trixie has been apologizing ever since,” Trixie shot back. “And must you keep bringing that up? Trixie just wanted to show you that she could be more magical. How was I to know that wearing it would make me evil?”
Twilight paused outside the kitchen door and then turned to face her guest.
“And then you became friends with Starlight Glimmer,” Twilight said, quietly. “A really good, caring friend. The kind that she needed to find. The kind who’d follow her on a rescue mission she knew would be dangerous.”
The incident with the changelings had happened nearly a year after Starlight had arrived in Ponyville. Their queen had succeeded in kidnapping Twilight, her friends, and the other alicorn princesses of Equestria, and was only foiled by a motley crew led by Starlight and Trixie. They’d emerged from the ordeal as honored heroes.
Twilight smiled sheepishly.
“Trixie,” she said. “You and I have had the worst luck getting to know each other. Just nothing but misunderstandings. But despite all of that, you risked your life to save me and the others. You keep proving over and over how badly I misjudged you.”
Trixie looked smug. Twilight laid a hoof on her shoulder.
“You’re reckless, arrogant, and drive me crazy,” she said. “You’re also loyal, brave, and do the right thing when it counts. So, trust me on this: I really do like you.”
Trixie looked at the floor a moment, then back up at Twilight, a twinkle in her eye.
“Well,” she said. “Of course you do! None can resist the charms of Trixie!”
And with a toss of her head, she swept past Twilight and through the kitchen door.
“So,” said Starlight, as she floated a plate heavy with pancakes and whipped cream in front of her friend. “You were gone for over a week. Did your shows go well?”
“Yes,” Trixie replied as she levitated a fork and broke off a piece of the sweet confection to eat. “The crowds aren’t as large as I’m used to, but it was worth the trip.”
“Your shows usually draw a good turnout,” said Twilight, frying a stack of cakes for herself to replace the portion that was now sitting cold on her plate. “What’s the problem?”
“Well, I used to have a much larger tour planned out,” Trixie explained as she took a bite. She paused to chew. “These are really good, by the way.”
“Not as good as mine,” said Spike, licking a bit of cream from the corner of his mouth. “Twilight’s always hung up on following the recipe exactly. She never has a feel for cooking it just right.”
“Trixie will have to sample some.” The stage magician turned back to Starlight. “I used to have a long tour route that would take me from town to town, all over Equestria. So, I’d only show up in each place once a year. It built anticipation, and that means bigger crowds.”
“But, you seem to be in Ponyville all the time now,” Twilight replied as she sat down.
“Yes, well…” Trixie paused, looking a bit embarrassed. “Trixie...doesn’t like being away from here for very long.” She blushed, glancing at Starlight.
“Of course,” Twilight thought. “She doesn’t want to be away from her only friend for a whole year.”
“Aren’t you going to have trouble making ends meet if you can’t do shows in as many towns?” Starlight asked.
“I might,” Trixie replied, excitement rising in her voice. “If I hadn’t gotten a great and powerful idea that will allow Trixie to step up her game to even greater heights!”
A chill ran down Twilight’s spine. Trixie’s ideas were more often half-baked and disastrous than great and powerful. She cut a piece of pancake and took a bite, chewing it slowly. Spike was right, she hadn’t quite cooked it perfectly.
“What sort of an idea would that be?” Starlight asked, a hint of concern in her voice. Trixie put down her fork and leaned forward, her eyes shining with excitement.
“Well, as a matter of fact, it’s the reason I came over so early,” she said. “I just had to show you.” Trixie climbed to her feet from the floor cushion and walked to the center of the kitchen. She reared up onto her hind legs, spreading her forelegs wide in a grand gesture.
“Now, behold the awesome power and be amazed, as the great and powerful Trixie becomes greater and powerful-er…” She stumbled, realizing she’d misspoken.
“More powerful?” Twilight suggested.
“That, too!” shouted Trixie, soldiering on. “Observe!”
Trixie fell back to all fours and then bowed her head, a look of intense concentration on her face. Her horn glowed as she summoned her magic. Suddenly, there was a flash and a loud bang as the air in the room rushed into the Trixie-shaped space that had previously been occupied by the showpony. Almost simultaneously, there was a loud pop from the dining room, followed by a tremendous crash, and finally a low groan.
Twilight and Starlight’s eyes widened as they silently looked at each other, then both leapt to their feet and ran for the dining room door. Starlight flung it open and crossed the threshold first.
“Trixie! Are you okay?!”
Twilight entered the room a half-step behind her former student, and a glance told her at once what had happened. Trixie had rematerialized several feet above the end of the dining room table and immediately crashed down upon it. The impact had broken one of the table legs, sending her sprawling to the floor, where she now lay in a dazed heap. Ironically, the table leg breaking may have saved her from breaking one of her own.
Trixie slowly sat up and shook her head, trying to regain her senses. Seeing her companions, she grinned awkwardly and weakly spread her forelegs again.
“Ta-daa.”
Starlight ran to her friend’s side as Trixie began to struggle back to her feet.
“Wait, wait! Don’t try moving yet,” Starlight cautioned. Her horn glowed as a spell seemed to envelop Trixie. Starlight looked her friend over, a spot of bright light seeming to follow her gaze. “Okay, looks like nothing’s broken. Let’s get you up.”
As Starlight helped Trixie back to her feet, Twilight finally found her voice.
“Trixie… Since when can you teleport?!” she asked.
“Well, technically, for a while now. Starlight taught me, like, moons ago,” Trixie replied, still sounding a bit shaky. “The first time I did it was when I teleported your map table thingy away.”
Twilight turned to Starlight.
“When she did what?!” Twilight asked, wondering what else went on in her own castle behind her back.
“Why, Trixie, you must have hit your head, because we’d never do anything that irresponsible and then not tell Twilight about it, right?!” Starlight nervously laughed, practically growling the last word at her friend. Twilight shook her head and turned back to Trixie.
“Trixie, teleporting yourself is pretty advanced magic,” she explained. “I was still barely getting the hang of it when I first came to Ponyville, so this is…” Twilight trailed off, looking thoughtful.
“Are you guys ever going to finish your breakfasts, or should I start clearing up?” Spike called from the kitchen.
“We’re coming back, Spike,” Twilight replied, stirring from her reverie. She turned back to Trixie. “Come on,” she said. “I want to ask you a few questions.”
“Okay, so, first of all, I’m impressed,” said Twilight, as they retook their seats around the kitchen table. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I always thought your magic was… You know.” Twilight paused, trying to find the gentlest way to put it. “Not so great. Or powerful.”
Trixie pouted.
“Your stage magic is really good!” Twilight added hastily. “But, I never thought you could ever do something like what I just saw you do. Most unicorns couldn’t. How did you learn to do it?”
“Well, I wanted Starlight to teach me how to make things disappear,” Trixie replied. “And I had trouble at first, like with your map—”
“Oh, hey! Who wants more pancakes?!” Starlight exclaimed, looking desperate to avoid explaining that misadventure. Twilight noticed Spike also looking distinctly uncomfortable at its mention, and wondered if everyone but her knew this story.
“Got it!” said Spike, happy to get away from the table. “I wanted more for myself, anyway. Trixie?”
“Trixie would also like more.”
“Make some more for me, too, I guess,” Twilight sighed. “Otherwise I’ll never get to have a hot breakfast.”
“Can’t you just warm them up again?” Starlight asked.
“Ugh, no,” said Twilight. “The whipped cream will melt, and it’ll be all goopy.” She turned back to Trixie. “Anyway, how did you learn to teleport yourself? Did you read up on it and learn that way? Did Starlight show you?”
“Well, I did sort of see how Starlight did it when we both went to visit the changelings that one time,” Trixie replied. “But I mostly just figured it out on my own.” She paused, looking down at her plate, then back at the other two. “I’m not like you two. I can’t just learn things by reading about them. I need help. But, this time, I figured it out on my own!”
She levitated her fork and began digging into her pancakes again.
“And that was really impressive,” said Twilight. “But, just promise me one thing: Don’t try that again until Starlight and I teach you the right way to rematerialize.”
“Especially indoors,” Starlight added.
“Yeah, especially indoors,” Twilight agreed.
“Why’s that?” Trixie asked, bringing a forkful of food to her mouth.
“Well, if you can’t be sure where you’re going to end up, you might materialize, you know… Halfway in a wall,” said Twilight with a shudder.
“Yes, that would be embarrassing,” replied Trixie, opening her mouth to bite.
“No, Trixie…” Starlight looked uncomfortable. “It’s not like you’d be stuck through the wall in a hole. You’d just suddenly have...a wall through you.”
Trixie bit down on the pancake, nodding, then froze as she realized the implications of what they were saying. Half of the mouthful slowly fell back onto her plate. She looked at the bisected lump of cake, then slowly gulped down what she’d eaten.
“So, no more teleporting yourself, please?” Starlight pleaded.
Trixie looked crestfallen.
“But I had such great plans!” she sulked. “I’d be able to teleport myself and my wagon to faraway places! I could do vanishing acts nopony has ever seen! And then I could come back here in no time!”
“And you could still do that,” said Twilight. “But, I’m really curious now. Did you ever get tested when you were little? Did your parents ever want to send you to magic school? Because I’m wondering if you might be gifted.”
Trixie bit her bottom lip, and seemed to consider her answer. She was uncharacteristically nervous, Twilight noticed.
“I did go to magic school when I was little,” she finally answered. “But not for very long. And I never got another chance to go anywhere else.”
“Was it a good school?” asked Twilight.
“Oh, yes,” Trixie replied, her appetite apparently recovered as she began to dig at her breakfast again. “The best in Canterlot.”
“Well, it probably wasn’t ‘the best,’” said Twilight. “Because that would have been Princess Celestia’s school.”
“That was the one,” said Trixie, taking a bite of her food.
Twilight’s mouth dropped open for a moment, then she shook her head.
“Trixie, I thought we were past this with you. You shouldn’t make up stories about yourself.”
Trixie scoffed.
“Trixie is not making up anything! I really did attend Princess Celestia’s school!”
“You couldn’t have!” Twilight protested. “That was where I went! We’re about the same age, which means we would have been there at the same time! And I’m pretty sure I would have noticed you!”
“Says the girl who hardly noticed anyone that wasn’t in a book back then,” Spike murmured to himself as he stood at the stove.
“I did though!” Trixie insisted. “But I had to leave halfway through first grade! I even remember my teacher’s name! She was Miss Joy! She was young and pretty and had a curly blonde mane and wore a big bow in it—”
“That was tied in the front and not the back, like most ponies wear it…” Twilight said slowly, sounding amazed as she interrupted. She stared at Trixie. “I remember Miss Joy. She taught one of the other first grade classes.”
“So, you were a gifted student then?” Starlight asked. “Why’d you have to leave school?”
Trixie opened her mouth, then seemed to reconsider. She sat silently, looking from Starlight to Twilight. Finally, she sighed.
“Personal reasons,” she finally answered. “Trixie would like to leave it at that.”
“Whatever it is,” Twilight thought, “it must have been pretty bad.”
“Anyway,” said Trixie, brightening up, “I’ve been learning a lot from Starlight. She’s a great teacher!”
“Oh?” asked Twilight, turning to her student. “And what else have you taught her?”
“Well, Trixie’s also been making progress with transfiguration spells,” replied Starlight with a hint of pride in her voice.
“Really? That’s great too,” said Twilight, glad to move the conversation away from whatever sad past Trixie might have had. “Can you show me something?”
“Well, if you insist,” said Trixie. She looked around for an object on which to demonstrate, her eyes falling on Twilight’s teacup. “Behold in awe, as the great and powerful Trixie transforms that ordinary teacup!”
“Here we go,” said Starlight to herself.
Trixie’s horn flared as she cast the spell. Twilight’s teacup was enveloped in light. The blaze subsided, and in its place lay...
“It’s still a teacup,” Twilight observed.
“Yes, but now it’s a different teacup!” said Trixie proudly.
Twilight looked more closely.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “It has changed. And now my set doesn’t match anymore.”
“Oh,” said Trixie. “Sorry. Maybe I can…”
“No,” said Twilight quickly. “I can fix it. And it’s a good transfiguration. It’s not lopsided or anything. That takes talent, too. Can you transform other things?”
“Well,” said Trixie craftily, “that’s the other reason I came over.” She turned to Starlight. “I was hoping Starlight could teach me one of her other spells. I think it would be very useful for me.”
“Oh, sure,” said Starlight. “Which one?”
“There was a particular spell that Trixie remembers you mentioning. You used it a few moons back when your charming friend Sunburst visited.”
Starlight stiffened.
“Trixie, stop!” Twilight thought, desperately. She knew exactly which spell Trixie was talking about.
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Starlight nervously.
“Of course you do,” Trixie replied. She paused, took a deep breath, and then looked her best friend in the eye.
“Starlight, I want you to teach me how to make myself into a foal.”
There's something most parents try to teach their children when they're still very young: never pick at a scab. It just keeps it from healing and may even reopen an old wound. Right now, Trixie was picking at a scab, and Twilight feared what it might reopen in Starlight.
Starlight looked at her friend silently, then shook her head.
"No, Trixie. I can't teach you that spell."
"But why not?" Trixie whined. "It's a great spell! Trixie wants to learn that spell!"
Starlight shook her head again.
"That spell was a mistake. I never should have written it. I definitely never should have cast it."
"You're just being dramatic," Trixie sniffed. She speared another piece of pancake with her fork and then gesticulated with it at Starlight. "And Trixie knows all about being dramatic."
"I'm not being dramatic," Starlight snapped back, growing visibly irritated. "That whole thing was a terrible idea, and I figured it out about ten seconds after I cast it on Sunburst and me!"
Twilight had only heard about it after the fact, but could easily imagine the fiasco. Sunburst was Starlight's only friend from childhood, and she’d been overjoyed when he'd paid her a visit in Ponyville. The problem was that the two, who had been so close as children, had been separated so long that they found they had little in common anymore. Starlight hadn't taken it very well, and so she'd hatched a plan to rekindle their childhood friendship.
"I think turning the two of you into little foals to play your favorite board game again was sweet," Trixie replied.
"Well, unfortunately, Sunburst didn't think so!" Starlight shot back. She sighed. "Trixie, I thought you knew me better than this. Please stop, okay? Besides, the spell's too complicated for you to learn. Not now, anyway."
Trixie scoffed as she swallowed another bite of her meal.
“Were you both not praising Trixie as ‘gifted’ just a few moments ago?” she sniffed. “Besides, I’ve cast age spells before.”
“Well, my spell isn’t an age spell, for one thing,” Starlight replied, poking at the remains of her own meal on her plate.
“And you were using the Alicorn Amulet to boost your powers when you did,” added Twilight as she took a bite of her own food. “Darn it,” she thought. “It got cold again.”
Trixie looked confused.
“Wait,” she said. “Why wouldn’t you use an age spell to turn yourself into a child?”
“Because I still wanted to turn back into an adult when we were done,” Starlight replied. “Age spells are complicated. They can also be really dangerous when you don’t know what you’re doing. And you never, ever want to cast one on yourself that would make you too young.”
“Why not?” Trixie asked, looking genuinely interested. “Don’t you just stay an adult inside and get a little body again?”
Starlight sighed at her friend’s naiveté. She had a boundless confidence that was often born of utter ignorance, and teaching her real magecraft required a lot of hoofholding.
“No, it doesn’t work like that at all,” said Twilight as she took another bite of her moldering meal. “The thing about age spells is that they can really mess up your memory if you’re not careful. It’s all about going too far back with your brain development.”
Trixie smiled and nodded, as she brought another forkful of food to her mouth.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” said Twilight with a note of exasperation.
Trixie smiled and shook her head as she chewed her food. Starlight sighed.
“Okay, think of it this way,” she began. “Imagine your brain is a house. It starts off small, with a couple of rooms. Your memories and experiences are like books and pictures you store in it. Follow me so far?”
Trixie smiled and nodded. Starlight and Twilight exchanged a worried glance.
“Oh, stop that, you two!” Trixie exclaimed. “I’m not a total idiot. I get it! Go on!”
“Okay,” Starlight continued. “As you mature, you add on more rooms to the house. It gets bigger, and you fill it with more stuff. You build up more experiences and more memories. Anyway, by the time you’re all physically grown, your house is pretty much as big as it’s going to get.”
“But, you can learn new things when you’re grown,” Trixie protested.
“Yes, but your brain isn’t going to get more space inside. You’re just...filling up the unused space. It’s like your house has spare rooms for you to use. Still with me?”
“I guess,” Trixie replied. “But what does this have to do with age spells?”
“An age spell can return your brain to a younger state,” said Starlight. “The trick is that you have to be careful not to suddenly make your house small again.”
A look of confusion crept onto Trixie’s face.
“Okay, if you make a child older with the spell, they’re going from a smaller house to a larger one. Understand?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Trixie.
“And if you make an adult into an younger adult, the house stays about the same size. Still with me?” asked Starlight.
“Yes,” replied Trixie, nodding smugly.
“Okay, now what do you suppose happens if you make an adult into a child? If the big house is suddenly made into a little one?”
Trixie considered it for a moment.
“It...can’t hold all the books and pictures anymore?” she asked hesitantly.
“Exactly!” Starlight replied. “A child’s brain isn’t developed in the same way as an adult brain. It can’t handle all those memories and experiences the same way.”
“So, what happens then?” Trixie asked.
“Bad things,” said Twilight, cutting in. “It can really mess someone up. Like you almost did with those two colts you turned into babies.”
Trixie looked confused.
“I didn’t mess anyone up!” she exclaimed. “I see those two little idiots all the time. They’re fine!”
“Trixie, you weren’t here when we had to clean up after our magic duel,” Twilight explained. “Fortunately, they were only babies for less than an hour, and you’d only made a couple of little kids a few years younger. But it took weeks before they were back to normal.” Twilight paused. “Or, at least as normal as Snips and Snails can be.”
“When you turn an adult into a child, it doesn’t just erase memories and leave you like you were originally as a little kid,” Starlight continued. “The spell’s designed to keep as much of your mind intact as possible. When the brain can’t handle it all, memories just start getting scrambled. Combined. Rebuilt.”
“So…” Trixie thought for a moment. “If you turn yourself into an actual child, it’d be like sticking a spoon into your brains and mixing it up?”
“That works,” said Twilight. “It’s kind of gross, but you get it. You’d end up with some memories being kept, some being erased, and others just getting combined. You might be a whole different pony in the end.”
“Not to mention that your magic would most likely be too weak at that point to cast the spell again,” Starlight added. “You’d be left a really confused little kid.”
“So, then what did your spell do?” asked Trixie.
“My spell combined transfiguration and illusion,” Starlight replied. “I wanted us to pretend to be foals, not actually become them. So, it gives you a body that looks like one without any of that messy stuff happening to your mind.”
“Well, then there’s no problem!” Trixie declared happily. “Trixie is quite adept at transformation now!”
“If you need something turned into a teacup, at least,” Spike grumbled, finishing the new batch of pancakes.
Twilight felt like hitting her head against the table. Why could this mare not take a hint and let it go? She saw a scowl creep back onto Starlight’s face. “Stop picking at this,” Twilight thought. “Why can’t you see how this is upsetting her?”
“Trixie, why do you even want to know this spell? What possible use can it be to you?” Starlight asked, her irritation now evident.
“It would be a fantastic finale for my show!” Trixie exclaimed. “Just imagine it, after my usual illusions, and perhaps a disappearing act with my teleportation, I close by transforming myself into the tiny and adorable Trixie! The crowd will cheer! Hearts will melt! And wallets will open!” Her eyes shone as she imagined the acclaim. “And I will have you know, I was a very, very adorable child. They won’t stand a chance.”
Starlight closed her eyes and took a deep breath, massaging her temples with her hooves. This whole conversation was giving her a terrible headache.
“Trixie, you can’t do this yet,” she said slowly. “I’d have to do it for you.”
“Well, maybe you can cast it on us?” Trixie asked, hesitantly.
Starlight stopped massaging her aching head and opened her eyes. She slowly turned toward Trixie.
“I’m sorry. Did you say us?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You want me to turn the two of us into foals?”
“Yes.”
As Spike brought a platter of fresh pancakes to the table, Starlight placed her forelegs onto the tabletop and leaned forward.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because…” Trixie dragged the word out, as though embarrassed by the reason. “There’s something I think we should do together, and we’d need to be foals to do it?” She paused a moment. “Tomorrow?”
“Why tomorrow?” Starlight asked, slowly.
“Wait a minute,” said Twilight, getting up from her seat. She trotted over to a calendar tacked to the kitchen wall. It was one of several, each marked with different appointments for Twilight’s schedule. The one she was studying showed holidays and town events. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Foal Field Day tomorrow, would it?”
“Yes!” said Trixie quickly. “That’s it exactly! I want us to go to that.”
Foal Field Day had been the mayor’s idea as a family event for Ponyville. It was meant as a lead up to Mother’s Day that coming Sunday.
“As foals?” said Starlight.
“Why in the wide land of Equestria would you want to do that?” Twilight asked as she returned to the table. “What does that have to do with learning the spell for your act?”
Trixie opened her mouth, then closed it, looking first at Twilight, then at Starlight, then at the remains of her breakfast on her plate. Finally, emitting a strangled grunt of frustration, she looked back up at them.
“All right! All right! You have me! It has nothing to do with it!” she confessed. She sighed. “I’ve just been thinking about that spell all this time, and I want to try it.” She looked plaintively at Starlight. “I’d like to just have fun as a little kid again, and I want to do it with you.”
She reached a hoof across the table and touched it to her friend’s.
“Please? I think it would do us both good.”
Silence fell across the table. The air seemed charged with tension, and Twilight felt like she could barely breathe.
“No,” said Starlight.
“Why not?!” Trixie pleaded.
“Just no!”
It was now Trixie who was growing angry.
“You were going to do it with Sunburst!” she cried.
“That was different!”
“It’ll be fun!”
“No, it won’t!”
Trixie’s eyes flashed with anger as she took a deep breath and played her final card.
“If you are really my friend, you’ll do this for me.”
Twilight’s eyes widened in horror.
“Trixie, that’s enough! That is way, way more than enough!” Twilight shouted. “What is wrong with you today?!” She turned to Starlight. “Starlight, are you…”
Twilight’s voice trailed off as she turned to her former student. Starlight was shaking, but not in rage. There were tears in her eyes.
“Don’t you understand?” she whispered.
She stood up, then pounded the table with her forelegs.
“I can’t go through that again!”
Her hooves clipped the edge of the platter of cakes Spike had just set down moments ago, sending them flying. Twilight barely had time to cast a protective bubble around herself. Pancakes slapped against it and then slid to the floor. No one spoke as Starlight panted, a mixture of anger, frustration, and... fear.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I… I…” She took a breath. “Excuse me!”
Starlight dashed from the kitchen.
Neither Twilight nor Trixie said a word, both staring at the door through which Starlight had just vanished. Finally, Trixie spoke.
“I think that’s your cue to go after her,” she said.
Twilight glared at her.
“Maybe you should go after her, seeing how you just made your best friend cry!”
“No,” replied Trixie, quietly. “I really think you should go.”
Her eyes flashing in anger, Twilight rose, levitating one of still warm pancakes scattered over the table. She rolled it into a tube and, taking a bite, headed for the door.
“What are you doing?” Spike asked.
“It’s clearly the only way I’m getting something hot to eat this morning,” Twilight shot back. “Thanks, Trixie. You really know how to make a mark on an occasion!”
And with that, Twilight ran from the room.
Twilight galloped through the hallway and up the grand staircase to the second floor, where their bedrooms lay. She knew exactly where Starlight would retreat to. She angrily gulped down the last of the pancake as she arrived at Starlight’s bedroom door. She tested the latch. It was locked. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
“Starlight?” she called softly, knocking on the door. “Can we talk, please?”
There was a pause, and then the latch glowed as Starlight magically unlocked it from inside. Twilight opened the door and stepped in.
Starlight Glimmer’s room was an eclectic mixture: a stuffed bear in wizard’s robes in the corner, books of advanced magic scattered about, potted plants, a couple of kites on the floor, a poster of a butterfly on the wall. It looked like the bedroom of the world’s brightest eight year old.
Starlight sat on the floor, leaning up against her bed. Her horn glowed as she levitated a spell scroll in front of her as she read it over. Twilight silently trotted to the bed and sat down next to her. They sat side by side, in silence.
“Well,” Twilight finally said. “That sure was a thing that happened, huh?”
Starlight said nothing.
“So, is that the…?” Twilight asked, indicating the scroll.
“Yeah, it’s the spell,” Starlight replied, passing it to Twilight. Twilight’s horn flared as she telekinetically grabbed it, then began reading it herself.
“This is really good stuff,” she said. “I like how you augment the transformation with an illusion.”
“Yeah,” said Starlight, quietly. “You never know what crazy old Starlight’s going to come up with next.”
“Don’t say that about yourself!” Twilight replied, sharply. Starlight sighed and stared at the floor.
“Twilight,” she said softly. “Sometimes I wonder if there’s something really wrong with me.”
“You just got angry, that’s all,” Twilight replied, putting a hoof on her shoulder. “And I have no idea what’s got into Trixie. She’s acting just awful today.”
“Trixie, what are you doing here?” Spike asked, watching Trixie continuing to eat. She had finished her plate and now began picking over the leftovers on Twilight’s.
“Trixie is having breakfast and visiting her friend,” she replied simply.
“No, you’re stealing Twilight’s breakfast and you just made your best friend cry.”
Trixie said nothing, and continued to eat. Spike watched for a few moments, then grabbed Twilight’s plate away. Trixie put down her fork and turned to face the diminutive dragon.
“So?” she said.
“So, what are you doing here?!” he exclaimed. “Why are you acting like this? You saw how upset Starlight was getting, but you wouldn’t stop! Why did you have to bring up that whole thing with Sunburst? Why would you ask her to turn you both into foals?! What’s so important about it that you’d make her that upset?!”
Trixie was silent for a few moments, then levitated her fork again and stabbed at Twilight’s plate. Spike moved it out of the way, glaring at her. Trixie sighed.
“Trixie was pushing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Trixie replied, “that I was pushing Starlight about her childhood so that Twilight would finally ask her about it.”
Spike regarded her for a moment, then moved the plate back toward her. Trixie rewarded herself with a bit more of Twilight’s breakfast.
“What about her childhood?” Spike asked.
“What do you two know about it?” Trixie asked in return.
“We saw it,” Spike replied. “Like, we were literally there. Starlight took us back to when she was little and we saw when Sunburst left her to go to magic school. And the whole thing with her getting obsessed over how special talents end up driving ponies apart.”
“Ah,” said Trixie. “You mean you two saw a few crucial minutes of her childhood. Did you ever stop to wonder about the rest of it?”
Spike considered the question.
“No,” he finally answered. “And Twilight saw that she doesn’t like to talk about it, so she never…” He stopped, realizing what he was about to say. “She never pushed her on it.”
“That’s the trouble,” said Trixie. “Everyone is scared to push her, like she’s made of glass and she’ll just shatter.” Trixie chewed on the cold pancakes for a moment, ruminating. “Trixie has tried, but she can’t get through. That’s why she came up with a plan.”
Ask any one of her friends, and they’d usually describe Twilight as “the girl who loves books.” And it was true; Twilight loved to learn for the sake of learning. What most never considered was the other side of the equation, namely that Twilight loved to learn because she so disliked not understanding something. From an early age, she found the very idea of not understanding the hows and whys of a thing disturbing. A world where things happened with no explanation would be chaotic and frightening.
In books, however, she found order to it. There were no mysteries that could not be solved, no problem immune to rational analysis and observation. A library for her was a model of existence, carefully organized and made comprehensible. Inside of one, she felt safe.
And in many ways, she found other ponies to be like books. Every one, a facet of the world that held new knowledge to be discovered. Every one, offering a different point of view and different experiences. Every friendship begun was like the start of a new story to be savored.
And then there was Starlight.
As dear as her other friends were to her, Twilight had never lived with any of them, nor grown as close as she had to Starlight. And yet, much of her past remained a mystery. If she were a book, the first few chapters were torn out. There was so much about her that she didn’t understand.
And if there was one thing that she disliked, it was not understanding something.
Twilight let her hoof fall back to the floor as an awkward silence grew. She wasn’t sure how to approach the problem. Maybe play it light?
“So, any idea why Trixie’s being especially Trixie today?” Twilight ventured.
“No,” replied Starlight with a hint of a smile as she looked up. “This is rare form for her. She managed a self-teleport, broke the dining room table, ruined breakfast, and came up with possibly the silliest idea ever.”
“Yeah,” Twilight snorted, suppressing a laugh. “I mean, the two of you, turning into kids and running races and stuff? What’s up with that?”
“I have no idea,” Starlight laughed. She thought for a moment. “You know what? Pinkie Pie mentioned they were filling a big order for Field Day snacks over at Sugarcube Corner. Maybe this is all an elaborate plan to mooch free cupcakes.”
Twilight guffawed.
“I could almost see her doing that!” she gasped, then looked thoughtful. “So, she’s never mentioned wanting to do anything like this before?”
“Nope.”
“No apparent desire to relive her childhood?”
“Not that she’s ever told me,” Starlight replied.
“Unlike a certain other pony sitting not a million miles from me right now?”
Starlight turned and looked at her sharply. Twilight silently waved the scroll she’d been reading. Starlight sighed.
“Darn it,” she said. “I almost thought you were going to let that drop.”
“I don’t think we should,” Twilight replied, softly.
Starlight turned away, her gaze falling back to the floor. Twilight cautiously extended a wing around her friend and drew her closer. There was a moment’s resistance, then Starlight relaxed. They sat for a moment, both of them silent.
“What happened downstairs?” Twilight asked. “Why did you react like that?”
“Because Trixie was being ridiculous and wouldn’t stop. Like you just said, she was awful.”
“Except you weren’t just mad at her,” Twilight pressed. “You actually seemed scared. Why?”
“I don’t know. Does it really matter?”
“I think it does. Because I don’t get why someone who values childhood memories so much that she’d write a spell to relive one wouldn’t jump at the chance to do something like this.”
“Maybe I don’t value my childhood as much as you think I do,” Starlight replied.
Twilight looked around the bedroom again. The stuffed bear in the corner. The kites. The butterfly poster on the wall.
“I don’t think that’s true. You always tell me how much you loved being with Sunburst back then.”
“True,” said Starlight. “Did you ever stop to consider the other side of that equation?” Twilight thought about it for a moment before the answer dawned on her.
“You’ve said you were only happy when you were together. So, I guess the other side of that is that you were always unhappy when you were apart.”
“That would be an accurate guess on your part,” Starlight quietly replied. “When Sunburst came to visit, I was so excited. My oldest friend was coming, and then I discovered that all I had in common with him were things he’d long outgrown.” She was silent a moment. “I couldn’t relate to him as an adult, so I thought ‘Maybe we could recapture what we had when we were children.’”
She raised her gaze and turned to Twilight.
“I was scared that my one happy memory from then was going to die.”
“Scared like you were downstairs with Trixie?”
Starlight quickly looked away.
“Maybe,” she said. “I don’t know.”
“But why?” Twilight asked. “You had no problem pretending to be a foal with Sunburst. Why not with Trixie?”
“Like I said, with Sunburst I was trying to recapture something. With Trixie and me doing that field day thing? It’d just be like actually being little again.”
“And that scares you?”
“Yes! No! I mean...!” A note of defensiveness crept into Starlight’s voice as she turned back. “It’s silly! I’m an adult now! Anyway, who would ever want to be a child again?”
Again, Twilight looked around Starlight’s room. The kites, the stuffed bear, the butterfly poster. She was close to something. She could feel it.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I imagine some ponies would think it would be fun to be a little kid again. No big responsibilities, having others to take care of you… You have to admit, it sounds appealing.”
“Not to me!” Starlight retorted, growing more irritated. “You know what being little is? It’s being weak! And helpless! And being…!” She broke off, stifling a sob.
“Being what?” asked Twilight. Starlight tried to turn away, but Twilight caught her face between her hooves and forced her to look her in the eyes. “Please, talk to me. Being what?”
Starlight swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. Twilight saw the hint of a tear escape the corner of one. “Being scared,” she said softly. “Of everything.” Twilight lowered her hooves and touched them to Starlight’s.
“I can’t go through that again,” is what she’d said in the kitchen. “That’s what it is with you, isn’t it?” thought Twilight. “You had one friend in childhood, and when he left, you got scared of making another. You get scared of being abandoned. You’re scared of what others think of you, and scared to open yourself up to them. Like, inside, you’re still...”
The thought hit her like a bolt of lightning. Twilight had an epiphany.
The kites, the bear, the poster. The fear. The recklessness.
Starlight, quite possibly the most powerful unicorn of the age, and yet who still felt small and helpless. Starlight, who would panic so easily when dealing with others, and then overcompensate with grandiose magical schemes. Starlight, who tried to use her powers to hold her world together because so often it felt like it was coming apart.
She’d founded a town based on a notion of harmony through absolute equality, using her magic to remove the cutie marks from her followers, removing what made them unique, making them all the same. But all having the same mark was like having no mark at all.
She was trying to make a place where the inhabitants would be trapped in an eternal childhood, where she would never be abandoned ever again.
“Once upon a time, there was a little filly named Starlight Glimmer,” Twilight thought. “The world was a scary, confusing place, and it broke her heart. She got bigger and learned a lot, except how to grow up.”
“So, let me see if I’m following this,” said Spike. Trixie had finally picked the plates clean of leftovers, and was now trying to make herself some tea to drink. The kitchen stove seemed to be flummoxing her. “Your plan was basically to be really annoying and then hope Twilight could fix things?”
“Not quite,” Trixie replied, struggling with the heavy firebox door. “How does this silly thing open? It needs more wood!”
Spike sighed. “Just sit down and let me do it,” he said, again donning his tiny chef’s hat.
Trixie gave the stubborn door a kick and then sniffed back to the table.
“My plan was to let Twilight see what has been obvious to me for a long time,” she continued.
“Which was what?”
“That Starlight isn’t what she appears to be.”
“What, like, she’s a changeling or something?” asked Spike.
“No, more like…” Trixie paused, searching for the best way to put it. “She’s pretending to be what she thinks she should be, not what she actually is.”
Spike kicked the firebox door open and threw in more wood, then turned to face Trixie, shutting the door with his tail.
“You just lost me.”
“I’m sorry. If I knew what it was, I’d help her myself,” Trixie replied. She brought her right fore hoof to her mouth and began chewing it idly as she thought about it some more. “It’s like she’s playing a role. One that she’s been playing for so long, she’s forgotten she’s doing it.”
Spike furrowed his brow, then shrugged. Trixie let out an exasperated sigh.
“See, this is why I needed Twilight,” she said. “She’s so much better with this heart to heart, touchy-feely stuff than I am!” She paused. “Like she is with most things,” she added, sadly. “I can feel what’s wrong with her, I can smell it, but I just can’t quite put my nose on it! There’s something about Starlight’s childhood that just haunts her like a ghost, and she’s scared of it all the time.”
Spike reopened the firebox to fan the flames with his own fire breath. The tea kettle wouldn’t be long in heating. He turned back to his demanding guest.
“And why didn’t you just come to Twilight and tell her what you thought? Why this whole weird plan to fool her into helping someone she’d want to help anyway?”
“Because she doesn’t take me seriously, that’s why!” she shot back. “She’d think I was trying to trick her or something. And anyway, she’s so stupidly sincere that she’d probably just go and ask Starlight straight out, and that wouldn’t get us anywhere.”
Spike boggled at her.
“Let me get this straight,” he said incredulously. “You were afraid she’d think you were tricking her, so you decided to trick her?”
Trixie considered his reply.
“Well,” she said, “it sounds silly when you put it that way.”
Shaking his head, Spike turned his attention back to the stove, preparing to steep the tea. The kettle was nearly ready. Trixie sighed, slumping down into her seat cushion.
“Starlight’s lying to herself about something,” she said quietly. “Trixie knows all about pretending to be someone you’re not.”
The kettle began to whistle.
Twilight felt that she’d made an important discovery about her former student. She just wasn’t sure what to do about it. If the root of Starlight’s problems was that she was still essentially a child in her mind, then wouldn’t she naturally leap at the chance to pretend to be one again? Twilight thought about it for a moment.
“No, wait,” she thought. “Of course she wouldn’t. As she’s grown and learned what’s expected of being an adult, she’s just gotten used to playing one. Transforming to look like a child would be like facing a part of herself she’s worked hard to hide from everyone, especially herself. And besides, like she said, being a child without Sunburst just made her miserable.”
The problem was that the scared little filly was still in there, whispering in her brain, driving her with her old fears. So, how to make little Starlight inside feel safe? How do you calm a version of someone they didn’t even want to admit existed?
Taking a deep breath, Twilight dove in. She couldn’t just let this lie after making such a breakthrough.
“Why was Sunburst your only friend when you were little?” she asked. “Didn’t you try to make any others before him?”
Starlight paused a moment, trying to compose herself.
“I did, but nothing ever seemed to last,” she finally replied. “It’d always start well, but then they’d just stop playing with me. I never knew what I was doing wrong.”
“And how did you get along with your parents?”
Starlight flinched, a tiny bit, but still enough that Twilight noticed. Not a good sign. Little Starlight was probably warning her away from talking about any of that. If only she could calm the child inside…
Twilight froze.
The thought she’d just had was absurd. It was… It was practically Trixie League absurd. It was also the only idea she had. She just hoped that Starlight would agree to it. She looked her friend in the eye.
“Starlight,” she said carefully. “I want to try something. It might help you to talk, but you’ll need to trust me. Do you?”
Starlight’s silence seemed to last for ages, then she finally nodded her head.
“I do. What do you want?”
Twilight prayed she wasn’t making a terrible mistake.
“I want you to cast your spell. Right now.”
“What, on both of us?”
“No, just on you. Please, if you feel uncomfortable, just change back. But I want you to do it for me.”
Twilight levitated the scroll back to Starlight. It hung in the air, until Starlight’s horn glowed and took it up. She stood and walked a few paces away, into the center of the room. The scroll rose into the air above her. Starlight’s horn flared as she gathered her magic, then loosed it at the scroll. It blazed with light, producing a glowing whirlwind that descended onto her, enveloping her with the enchantment. A moment later, the whirlwind dissipated.
Where a grown unicorn mare had stood, now stood a small foal. She looked to be about eight years old, her purple and teal-striped hair shorter and tied in bunches, one on either side of her head. Her cutie mark was now gone. She sat down on her haunches and spread her now tiny forelegs to either side, mimicking Trixie from before.
“Ta-daa,” she said with a shrug.
“Hello, little Starlight,” Twilight thought. “I haven’t seen you in a long, long time.” She looked her now shrunken student over. “So, how exactly do you fit a grown-up brain in there?”
“That was the tricky part,” Starlight replied, her voice now matching her childish stature. The mismatch between the body and the words coming out of it was almost hilarious. “I’m smaller, but I’m heavier than I should be for this size. My head is also a little too big now, but that’s covered over as part of the illusion. If you cast clairvoyance, you can probably see for yourself.”
Twilight nodded, her horn glowing as she cast the spell. Clairvoyance gave her sight beyond sight, and she could see the illusion cast around Starlight, the real proportions of her body appearing as a hazy outline. It was the same spell Starlight had used earlier to check to see if Trixie had broken any bones.
“Okay, now what?” Starlight asked.
“Now, hop up on the bed.” Twilight stood and walked to a bureau next to it. “Where is…? There we go!” she said, levitating a hairbrush into the air.
Starlight looked dubious, but did as she was asked. The bed was now higher than she was used to, but she still managed to hoist herself onto it. She sat down, facing Twilight. Twilight walked to the other side, climbing onto the bed behind her. Starlight looked back at her, puzzled.
“Eyes forward. Just relax.”
As she did, she could feel Twilight loosening the hair ties holding her bunches. Her mane fell free around her neck.
“So,” Twilight began, “when I was little, there were times I’d get upset. So upset and so angry that I just couldn’t talk to anypony. I’d stomp around the house and mope. And so my mom would see this and say ‘Twilight, you need your mane brushed.’”
Starlight sat as still as stone. Twilight raised the hairbrush and began gently pulling it through her hair.
“Now, my mom wouldn’t ask me what was wrong,” Twilight continued. “She wouldn’t say anything to me at all. She’d just brush, and I’d just sit. And after a while, I’d start to talk. About anything. It didn’t have to be about what was bothering me. It just felt good to talk.”
She paused, hoping she wasn’t pushing things too far.
“It made me feel safe.”
They sat silently a while, Twilight gently brushing her hair.
“Please, Starlight,” she thought. “Talk to me. You’re safe here. No one can hurt you. I’d never let them.”
It was quiet in the room, the silence only broken by the whisper of bristles through hair.
“What was it like for you, Twilight?” Starlight asked softly. “What was it like for you growing up?”
“My childhood?” said Twilight. “Well, let me see... “ She thought about it a moment. “I had a really loving family, for one thing. My dad is quiet and gentle, but kind of a goof. My mom, on the other hoof, is the type who has to find the scariest ride whenever you visit an amusement park. Oh, and she also told the best bedtime stories.”
“Really?” asked Starlight.
“Oh, yeah. I think she’d work on them all day, just so she’d have a good one for us at bedtime. My brother would always act like he was too old for them, but for some reason he’d always be hanging around outside my room when Mom would tuck me in.”
“I’ve met your brother. I can see him doing that.”
“Yeah,” Twilight laughed. “Shining Armor and I used to play knight and princess when we were little. Then he grew up to be in the royal guard and I grew up to be a princess, so that worked out, huh?”
Starlight giggled. “Yeah, pretty much,” she said.
“And what else?” Twilight paused, a faraway look in her eyes. “I had a foalsitter who always had songs to sing and games to play. I used to wish she was my big sister. Then she grew up and married my brother, so I guess I got that, too.”
Starlight smiled and nodded, then suddenly looked confused. She turned to look back at Twilight.
“Wait, your brother is married to Princess Cadance.”
“Yeah.”
“Princess Cadance, the alicorn.”
“Yes.”
“She was your foalsitter?”
“Yes.”
Starlight furrowed her brow, seemed to quietly debate herself, then shook her head.
“How does that even work?!” she demanded.
“To be honest, I’m still not clear on that, myself. She just went to school with my brother and had a foalsitting service.”
Starlight quietly turned back around, still looking dubious. Twilight resumed her brushing.
“Oh,” added Twilight, “And I forgot that part where I was also accepted into the best magic school in Equestria and became Princess Celestia’s personal protege.”
The two sat silently, the hairbrush bristles whispering.
“Oh, the worst!” Twilight looked thoughtful. “I had every advantage anyone could ever ask for, with a bunch more sprinkled on top, for good measure.” She sighed. “And I still managed to mess it up.”
“What did you ever mess up?”
“I was so full of myself,” Twilight replied, “so much in a hurry to be Princess Celestia’s prized pupil that I didn’t actually learn the important things she was trying to teach me.” She stopped brushing and turned Starlight to face her. “Did you ever meet Moondancer?”
“I think so. She’s the mare with the glasses and the frumpy sweater, right? I think I saw her with you a couple of times.”
“Yeah, that’s her. Did I ever tell you about her, though?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
Twilight looked down at her feet. It was never easy to admit the mistakes of your youth.
“We went to school together. She was in my class. She was in my circle of friends there.”
“I thought your friends here were the first ones you ever made.”
“That’s what I thought, too. For a long time. The thing is, when I was little, I actually had a group of friends, except I never noticed.”
Starlight cocked her head to one side, looking confused.
“How could you not notice you had friends,” she asked. Twilight finally looked up.
“I guess you could say that I just took it for granted that there were other fillies who were always around me,” she replied. “I suppose they were curious about who the star student was, and they just learned to expect me to always have my nose buried in a book. Except for Moondancer.”
Twilight swallowed hard. Starlight could see this was difficult for her to talk about.
“Moondancer apparently really looked up to me. All she wanted was for me to just acknowledge her, to show that I noticed how much she cared.” Twilight sighed. “And I didn’t. I didn’t care about anything that wasn’t in one of my books. And then I left school without even saying goodbye. I hurt her, and I never even realized it, because I was just...careless.”
Twilight sat silently, then Starlight touched a hoof to hers.
“Well,” Starlight said, trying to lighten the mood, “you come back after you enslave a whole town, and then we can talk about messing up.”
“I don’t know, in some ways, what I did was worse.”
“Oh, really?” said Starlight, with not a little sarcasm. “How?”
“You started your town because you wanted a place where everyone would be equal, and nopony would ever leave you. You did it because you cared too much about friendship. I didn’t care about it at all.” Twilight smiled bitterly. “I think the worst thing about who I used to be was how I just didn’t care.”
“Huh…” Starlight slowly turned back around. “I never really thought of it like that.”
Twilight resumed her brushing.
“So,” she continued, “aside from Sunburst, what was your childhood like?”
Starlight thought for a moment.
“Oh, it was awful,” she joked. “I sold matches in the street and would freeze to death in a doorway every night.”
She laughed nervously. Twilight silently continued to brush. Starlight’s laughter died away.
“Why do they tell little kids stories like that? I think I cried all night the first time it was read to me.”
Twilight didn’t answer. Starlight sighed.
“I grew up in a town outside of Vanhoover,” she finally admitted. “It wasn’t big and it wasn’t small. My family wasn’t rich, but we weren’t poor, either. We were just kind of average.”
Twilight only brushed.
“And for almost as long as I can remember, I just felt like nopony wanted me,” Starlight continued. “Like I said, I’d try to make friends, but nothing would last. Even the grownups didn’t seem to like me. I never understood why.”
“You never mention your parents,” Twilight said.
“I can’t really tell you about my dad. He hasn’t been in my life since I was about five years old.”
“Did he…? You know...” Twilight trailed off, afraid to finish the thought.
“Oh, no! He didn’t die or anything. He just left.” Starlight paused. “I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”
“Oh…” Twilight couldn’t imagine her father ever doing anything like that. She couldn’t imagine what that would be like. “And what about your mom?”
Again, Starlight flinched. She didn’t answer. Twilight continued to gently brush, until at last, the little unicorn spoke.
“Maybe one day I’ll be able to tell you about my mom.”
Twilight stopped brushing, and began regathering Starlight’s mane into bunches.
“I think your hair’s brushed enough for now,” she said, refastening the ties she’d removed. She suddenly looked puzzled. “Where did these come from?”
“What?”
“The hair ties. You didn’t have your hair in bunches before you cast the spell, so where did these come from?”
“Oh!” A smug smile crept onto Starlight’s face. “That’s a little extra I worked into the spell. I used some of my own hair to make them.”
“Clever,” said Twilight as she retied them. “So, how do you feel now?”
“Better.” Starlight leaned back, closing her eyes and resting against her. “You feel warm,” she said. “And you smell nice.”
“Oh, well, you can put that on my gravestone. ‘Princess Twilight Sparkle - At Least She Didn’t Stink.’”
Starlight snorted out a laugh, then looked thoughtful.
“What is wrong with me, Twilight?” she asked.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, but I think you do have a problem.”
“What?” said Starlight, sitting up to face her teacher.
“Her,” Twilight replied, nodding towards a mirror on the wall. Starlight turned to see her own reflection.
“That’s me.”
“It’s the little you. The one who was hurt so long ago.” Starlight stared at the small, sad-eyed child in the mirror.
“She’s long gone, Twilight,” she said softly.
“No, I think she’s still inside you. She’s still sad and still scared. And I think she’s the one who makes you feel the way you do.”
“So, what do you think I should do about her?”
“I think,” said Twilight, as she climbed off the bed, “that you need to grow up.”
“Maybe you’re right…”
There was a long silence in the bedroom.
“No, I mean, I think you need to break this spell and make yourself big again, Starlight.”
“Oh! Right. I just thought…”
“I know, it works both ways, but I think we should get back downstairs before Trixie starts cleaning out our ice box,” said Twilight with a laugh.
“Sure thing,” Starlight replied as she climbed off the bed.
“Oh, wait!” Twilight exclaimed. “One last thing before you do!”
Starlight turned to ask what she wanted as Twilight hugged her tight in her forelegs. “Hey!” she squealed.
“Sorry! You’re just too cute. I want to pick you up and cuddle you all day!”
Teacher and student looked at each other and laughed. Twilight stepped back. There was the same rush of light as before, and then there stood Starlight, her adulthood restored.
“You know, if you just wanted to brush my mane, you didn’t have to have me make myself little first,” Starlight teased.
“I dunno,” said Twilight thoughtfully. “I think the important part was being little and feeling like there was someone there to make you feel safe.”
“Maybe.” Starlight smiled.
“Now,” Twilight continued. “I have a proposal. I’d like you to hear me out.”
“There’s just one thing I’m still not clear on,” Spike said as he washed the breakfast dishes in the sink. “Why do you want to do this field day thing with Starlight?”
Trixie sat at the table, sipping her second cup of sweet tea.
“Oh, I don’t,” she replied.
Spike stopped washing and turned to look at her, doing a double-take in the process.
“Then why…?”
“Trixie’s plan was to simply force Starlight to admit there was something about her childhood that was bothering her, and then get Twilight to talk to her about it. I thought asking her to teach me her spell would be a good excuse to force the issue. The problem was that she was right. I’m nowhere near good enough to do that.”
“So, the field day thing was…?”
“I had no idea that was even happening till Twilight mentioned it,” Trixie explained. “So, I made a slight change to my plan, along with a brilliant bit of improvisation, if I may say so. Especially that whole ‘If you’re my friend’ bit. I knew that would really set Twilight off.”
“So…” said Spike. “You don’t actually want to do field day as a foal?”
“Of course not!”
“But, what if Starlight had said yes?”
“That’s the greatest and most powerful part of my plan!” Trixie said with a smug smile. “It’s so ridiculous that I knew Twilight would never allow it.” She levitated the teacup to her lips and drank the last few drops from it. “You just watch. They’ll come through that door, and Twilight will say how they had a long talk and Starlight has a problem that they needed to work out, and then she’ll say how awful and absurd I was being. Then I, the humble and magnanimous Trixie, will pout a bit, then offer my sincerest apologies, and then…” She paused. “I don’t know. Twilight will probably want to sing a song about it or something.”
Hoofsteps approached from the dining room.
“You just watch!” Trixie whispered, then struck the most casual pose she could as the kitchen door swung open. Twilight entered, followed closely behind by Starlight. Twilight cleared her throat.
“So… Sorry to keep you waiting,” she began. “Starlight Glimmer and I were up in her room, and we had a very long talk.”
“Oh,” Trixie replied, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “Do tell.”
“Yes,” Twilight continued. “It’s very clear that there are some problems from her childhood that she still needs to sort out.”
“Ah,” said Trixie, looking smugly at Spike, who rolled his eyes and went back to his washing. “Go on.”
“And you really upset her before!” Twilight chided. “Before anything, you should say you’re sorry.”
“Oh, I guess so,” said Trixie, climbing to her feet with an expertly-executed pout. She turned to her friend. “Starlight,” she said, flashing her most dazzling stage smile, “Trixie is so very, very sorry for upsetting you before. How can I ever make it up to you?”
“Well,” said Starlight, first turning to Twilight and then back to her friend. “Twilight and I decided that you might have had a good idea before.”
The smile on Trixie’s face froze.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked.
“Well, Twilight thinks that my problem is that I have too many bad memories associated with my childhood.”
“Yes, and…?” Trixie said nervously.
“And she thinks that maybe I can overcome that by making some good experiences as a child now.”
Trixie’s smile remained fixed as her right ear began to twitch.
“So…?”
“Well, she and I both agree that maybe the two of us doing field day together would be good for me,” Starlight announced. “So, we’re going to do it! Isn’t that great?”
“Oh. Yes. Great,” Trixie replied, practically choking out the words.
An awkward silence fell over the kitchen, broken by the sound of sputtering laughter. Everyone turned to look at Spike, who was struggling mightily to contain himself. He looked at Trixie, then clapped both claws over his mouth to contain his guffaws as he hopped off the stool by the sink.
“Spike, what’s so funny?” Twilight asked.
“Nothing,” he gasped. “Excuse me. I have to go...mop...some books.”
“What?” said Twilight, looking baffled.
Spike walked to Trixie, then patted her on the back.
“Nice plan,” he said. “It was really great.”
He walked quickly to the door, still barely controlling himself, then turned back to her one last time.
“And powerful.”
And with that, Spike quickly made his exit. The three mares stared at the door, then turned back to each other.
“So, anyway—” Twilight began.
From outside the door came the sound of Spike’s howling laughter, receding as he ran from the dining room. Twilight listened in utter bewilderment before turning back to her companions.
“What’s got into him?” she asked Trixie.
“I have no idea,” Trixie replied through clenched teeth.
Starlight stepped aside from the open door as Trixie entered. The guest room, similar to the others in Twilight’s castle, had an arboreal-themed decor. The doorway was surrounded by a relief in the shape of a tree, images of foliage flowing out across the walls. A large window looked out over the land to the rear of the castle, and a large bed lay opposite the door. Trixie surveyed her accomodations, shrugged off the saddlebags which held a few necessities for her stay, then turned to her friend.
“I don’t see why I need to stay here with you both. I have a perfectly good bed of my own in my wagon.” Trixie walked to the window and looked out to the rear grounds, where her wagon lay parked. “And I don’t see why I just had to drag it here halfway across town.”
“Well, Field Day starts early tomorrow,” Starlight explained, joining Trixie at the window. “Twilight figured it’d be easier if we all got up together.” She glanced sidelong at the blue unicorn. “And you’re not exactly a morning pony, you know.” Trixie sniffed.
“Trixie is very happy to live a life that lets her sleep in while others are going to their awful, dull jobs every morning.” She turned to Starlight. “And that still doesn’t explain why I had to bring my wagon here.”
“It’ll be safer. You’re going to be busy for the next couple of days, right?” Starlight peered down at the purple star-spangled wagon. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your stuff, would you?”
“I suppose,” Trixie replied. “Although anypony who messes around in there might end up blowing themselves into next week. I have a lot of fireworks stored in it.”
A hint of concern clouded Starlight’s face. “Those are stored, you know… Safely, right?” she asked.
“Safe enough.” Trixie turned to her bags and levitated them onto the bed. “Trixie has never been one to study safety instructions too closely, but she’s managed to stay in one piece so far.” Her answer didn’t seem to reassure Starlight much.
“Hey, so…” Starlight stammered. “Why don’t you unpack and I’ll go down and double check that your wagon’s locked up tight.” She paused. “And that it’s not going to blow up half the castle.” She quickly trotted out of the room, her hoofbeats quickening to a run as she hurried down the long hallway.
“I was kidding,” Trixie called after her. “I…” She trailed off as Starlight’s hoofsteps faded. She sighed. “I should really learn to keep my mouth shut.”
Again, she turned to look out the window. It framed the foothills on the town’s outskirts that eventually rolled into the mountains upon which shone the city of Canterlot in the distance. “It’s a pretty view,” a tiny voice whispered inside her mind. Trixie had to agree. The view was lovely, which just made the situation seem worse. She turned back to resurvey the room. “It’s the best room you’ve had in ages,” the tiny voice said. “Maybe ever.”
The problem was that she didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be staying in this room, because doing so meant she was about to join Starlight in her little jaunt back to childhood days. Every instinct she had told her to run, to just head outside, come up with any excuse, and then get back on the road with her little wagon. That was how she’d learned to handle uncomfortable situations, and it had served her well for years. If the situation seemed dicey and the crowd was turning on you, take a bow, throw a smoke bomb, and then hightail it to the next town over. You could always stop to count your money later.
Trixie walked over to the side of the bed, then flopped herself across it. “Soft,” said the tiny voice. “You could get used to this.” Trixie wished the voice would stop trying so hard to sell her on staying. “I don’t want to do this,” she said. She rolled on her back. “I don’t want to do this!” she said again, more insistently. She began rocking from side to side. “I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to!”
There came a soft knocking from the doorway. Trixie tilted her head back over the side of the mattress. There in the upside-down doorway of the upside-down room stood an upside-down baby purple dragon with green bony fins. Spike smiled awkwardly and waved his claw at her. With an annoyed grunt, Trixie rolled herself over, blowing the forelock of her mane from the front of her face. “And what do you want?” she asked, not even trying to hide her irritation. “Have you come to laugh at Trixie some more?’
“No,” Spike replied, still standing at the threshold. “I came to see if your room was all right and if you needed anything.”
“It’s fine.” Trixie sat up and rolled off of the bed. “I don’t need anything. In fact…” She began levitating her bags back onto herself. “I think I’ll just sleep out in my wagon tonight.” Spike looked down at his feet, blushing, then looked back up.
“Wait,” he said. “I also came to apologize about laughing before.”
Trixie paused, the bags hanging in midair, before they settled back onto the bed. Spike twisted his toe claw into the floor, then continued. “It was mean of me. I shouldn’t have done that.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. Please don’t camp outside tonight. Twilight would feel awful if you did.”
Trixie frowned at him, then her expression softened. “Very well, Trixie forgives you.” She sat back down on the bed. “I suppose the look on my face was pretty funny when they said what we’ll be doing.”
“Yeah, kind of.” Spike ambled over to the bed and sat down next to her. “Did you know your ear twitches when you get upset?”
“Does it?” Trixie thought about it for a moment. “I suppose I’ve never gotten upset in front of a mirror.”
They sat in silence before Spike spoke again.
“So…” he ventured. “What are you going to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you were just rolling around on the bed yelling ‘I don’t want to!’ at the ceiling, so I figured, you know…” He looked up at her. “That you don’t want to go through with this.” Trixie looked away. “Is it really going to be so bad if you do it?” he asked.
“Let me put it this way, Twilight’s little pet dragon—”
“Hey!” Spike looked incensed. “I’m not her pet!”
“Servant, then. Anyway, my childhood and I have an agreement. It lives in the past and I live in the present, and we don’t speak to each other except on birthdays and certain holidays.”
Spike snorted with laughter, drawing a glare from Trixie.
“Come on!” he protested. “That was clearly a joke!”
Trixie opened her mouth to loose a devastating retort, then changed her mind. Sparring with the little dragon wasn’t going to solve her problem, nor was it making her feel better. She opted to simply give him a sour look and began pacing around the room.
“I don’t know why Starlight seems ready to repeat the third grade, but I’m not.” She paused by the window. Outside, she could see Starlight fussing over her wagon. “I’m just going to have to tell her and Twilight that I can’t do it.”
“Well, if you are, you’d better tell Twilight soon,” Spike replied. “She’s out right now getting you two signed up for Field Day tomorrow.”
“All right, then!” Trixie turned, her eyes filled with resolve. “The great and powerful Trixie shall confront Twilight Sparkle and...” She faltered, the resolve fading. “And tell her that I just remembered that I have to do a show in the next town over.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed, his expression now stony. “You literally just got back from doing a show in the next town over,” he said, exasperation creeping into his voice. “You told us that, like, two hours ago.”
“All right, then! I’ll tell her...” Trixie again faltered. “I’ll say I caught a cold, and it would be irresponsible to expose those poor little children to it.” Spike arched a brow ridge. “Cough, cough,” Trixie added.
Spike smacked a claw to his forehead and slowly drew it down his face. “Okay, first of all, nopony’s going to believe you came down with a cold in the last hour. Second…” He looked up at Trixie and shook his head in disbelief. “You do realize you’re just saying ‘cough, cough’ and not actually coughing, right?”
Grunting with frustration, Trixie again turned toward the window. She looked down at the ground below. “How high up are we?” she asked.
“I dunno. Three stories, I guess.”
“I wonder how badly I’d be hurt if I jumped.”
As she stood there, weighing her options, Trixie suddenly yelped as Spike grabbed onto her tail and began pulling her away from the window.
“Let me go!” she shouted.
“Not till you promise me that you’re not going to jump out the window!”
“All right, all right! Trixie promises!”
Spike released her tail. Trixie craned her head around to survey the damage. Fortunately, he hadn’t torn any of it out. She gave it an experimental shake, earning a twinge of pain in return.
“Maybe you’re right. I hate having to go to the hospital.”
“And Starlight would hate having to go to her best friend’s funeral, which she would, because you’ll probably break your neck if you jump out the window.”
“Well, what do you suggest I do, then?!” Trixie demanded, her tone almost desperate. “How do I get out of this?!”
“You want my advice?” Spike asked. “Okay, here it is: Go to Twilight as soon as she gets back…”
“Yes, and...?”
“And just be honest with her.”
Trixie waited expectantly for him to say more. Disappointment clouded her face when she realized none was forthcoming. She turned away with a exasperated groan, but the little dragon grabbed her shoulder.
“Listen,” he said. “Why are you in this mess?”
“Because I was trying to help my friend?”
“No, because you didn’t just go to Twilight in the first place and talk to her about Starlight.”
“Because she doesn’t take me seriously!”
“Trixie, she doesn’t take you seriously because you do stuff like this!”
Trixie shrugged out of his grasp and turned away, furious. She hated being criticized. She hated being ridiculed. Most of all, she hated that he was right. Because this was her fault. She’d made a plan, and it was a bad one. She’d counted on Twilight doing one thing, and never expected her to do the other. She hadn’t thought anything through, and now everything was spinning out of control.
As she stood there, struggling to regain her composure, she felt Spike’s claw on her shoulder.
“Deep breath,” he said.
“What?”
“Take a deep breath.”
She glanced back at him. He didn’t seem to be mocking her. If anything, he looked concerned. She inhaled.
“Hold it a second,” he instructed. She held her breath. “Now, let it out slow.”
She slowly released the breath, then turned back to face him.
“Whenever Twilight starts to panic, she starts coming up with bad ideas,” he explained. “Her sister in law taught her to do that to calm herself down. Did it help?”
Trixie took another deep breath, then slowly exhaled. It did help.
“Just go to Twilight and talk to her. Tell her why you acted the way you did at breakfast. Tell her why you don’t want to do this.”
“She’ll just laugh at me.”
“Trixie, she won’t. You know she won’t!” Spike thought a moment. “Do you remember what you called her before?”
“Stupidly sincere?”
“Yeah, exactly. Do stupidly sincere ponies laugh at others?”
Trixie sighed. “I suppose they don’t,” she admitted.
“Just talk to her,” he said. “No tricks, no stories, no excuses. You do that, and you’ll impress her more than teleporting from one side of Equestria to the other.”
There came the sound of approaching footsteps from the hallway. Spike and Trixie both turned to see Starlight reenter the room, a look of relief on her face.
“Good news,” she announced. “The wagon’s locked up tight, and the fireworks look safe as can be.” She turned to Spike. “Twilight’s home. She asked me to come get you. I think she needs a letter sent.”
“Duty calls,” he said. As he headed for the door, he turned back toward Trixie. “Take my advice, okay?”
Starlight watched the little dragon leave, then turned back to Trixie. “Advice about what?”
“I just need to ask Twilight about something.”
“Oh.” Starlight thought for a moment. “That’s new. Anything important?”
“Probably not.” Trixie turned back to her bags on the bed, eager to change the subject. “I suppose I should get this stuff unpacked. Not that there’s much to unpack.”
“What did you bring for a two night stay?” Before Trixie could protest, Starlight’s horn glowed as she telekinetically opened the bags and began examining their contents. “Let’s see… Hair brush… Toothbrush… Pillow?” She looked questioningly at Trixie. “We do provide pillows here, you know.”
“Trixie likes the feel of her own pillow.”
“Oh… Okay, I can see that.” Starlight continued to unpack. “And this is… What is this?” She levitated a small, folded square of cloth. “A towel?” She unfolded it. It was a light blue, soft material with a blue satin trim. Worn, but carefully patched.” You didn’t need to bring your own towel. We have those, too.”
“That’s… That’s nothing!” Trixie’s own horn glowed as she grabbed it from Starlight’s spell grip. It floated to her, where she quickly refolded it and placed it on the bed. Starlight tilted her head questioningly. “It’s… It’s just a blanket I like to keep,” Trixie stammered. Her cheeks were now bright red.
“It’s awfully small for a blanket. It almost looks like…” Starlight’s eyes suddenly widened as a delighted smile spread across her face. She looked from Trixie to the tiny blanket and back. “Oh, my goodness. Is that…?”
“Stop right there,” Trixie warned
“It’s just, I’m wondering if…”
“Don’t say it,” Trixie replied, her face darkening.
“Okay.” Starlight stood silent as Trixie continued to blush furiously. She finally could stand it no longer. “Is that your blankie?”
“Starlight, please!” Trixie angrily stuffed the foal blanket back into her bag. She took a deep breath, held it a moment, then exhaled slowly. “Trixie hates it when she’s laughed at,” she finally said.
“I’m not laughing,” Starlight said. “I’d never do that to you. It’s just…” She smiled. “It’s just surprising. You don’t seem like the type who’d sleep with their old blankie.”
“Because I’m not.”
A look of confusion fell across Starlight’s face. “Then, why do you have…?”
Trixie sighed and slowly withdrew the blanket from the bag. She levitated it into her hooves as she sat down on the floor, then rubbed it against her cheek.
“It’s something I bring out only a couple of times a year,” she finally explained. “Sunday is going to be a little hard for me.”
“Sunday?” Starlight asked. “What about Sunday? That’s just…” Her eyes widened. “Sunday is Mother’s Day.”
Trixie nodded silently. “It helps me to remember,” she said quietly, her gaze downcast. The two friends stood silent, neither knowing what to say. At last, Starlight sat down in front of Trixie and placed a hoof on her shoulder.
“When did she die?”
Trixie swallowed. “A long time ago.” She looked up. “Long enough that I have trouble remembering what she looked like.” She nervously fidgeted with the blanket as she spoke. “I have pictures, of course, but in my memory… Just impressions now.” She raised the blanket back to her cheek, closing her eyes. “That she was warm. And soft.” She buried her face in the blanket and inhaled. “And I remember the smell of lavender and vanilla.”
Trixie carefully refolded the blanket, then looked up at Starlight, a thin and awkward smile on her face. “Now you’ve seen the face of the soppy and sentimental Trixie. Please don’t tell anyone else. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“I’ll never tell a soul, cross my heart,” Starlight replied, tracing an X across her chest. She suddenly hugged her friend close and held her tight. The embrace went on for a few moments before Trixie cleared her throat.
“Trixie appreciates the hug, but thinks it’s gone on long enough.”
“Oh, sorry.” Starlight released her and then rubbed the back of her head, embarrassed. “I guess I’ve been living with Twilight for too long.” She placed her hoof back on Trixie’s shoulder. “Are you going to be all right?”
The thought flashed through Trixie’s mind. Here was her chance! All she had to say was no, and then she could get out of this! It was perfect, it was understandable, and it wouldn’t be a lie. She could avoid the embarrassment she knew would accompany this crazy scheme. She could…
“You’d be running away again, like you always do,” said the little voice.
Not for the first time, Trixie cursed the little voice. It seemed to exist only to make her life harder, to make her feel guilty for trying to work things to her advantage. It also seemed unusually insistent. What did it want from her?
“Talk to Twilight,” it whispered. “Stop running away.”
Fine, she thought. Anything to get it to shut up. She bit her lip, then answered Starlight.
“I’ll be okay. Anyway, I need to go see Twilight.”
“She’s probably down in the library.” Starlight stood up. “I’m working on a new version of my spell. We’ll probably cast it soon so we can make sure there are no problems. One question: any preferences on hair?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m aiming to make us both about 9 years old. Old enough to have cutie marks, young enough to still be little kids. Did you wear your hair any particular way back then, or do you just want to keep what you have now?”
Trixie scoffed. “Trixie spent years perfecting this style. She will keep it for this, too.” She then smiled. “I tried braids when I was little. That was a mistake.”
“Noted. Okay, see you downstairs.”
Starlight trotted out the door, leaving Trixie alone with her thoughts. It was time to get the situation back under control. It was time to set things right. It was time she was honest with Twilight.
“Oh, Trixie. Come in. I’m just about finished up here.”
Twilight looked over the letter she’d just finished dictating as Trixie entered the library, then rolled it up and levitated it to Spike, who tied it with a ribbon. “Okay, send it, please.” Spike held it up to his mouth and breathed green fire onto it. The scroll didn’t burn so much as evaporate in a flash, the smoke it left behind wafting out the nearby window.
Trixie looked around the library, which served as Twilight’s private office. It was a huge room of crystal and glass, stuffed from floor to ceiling with hundreds of books, many which looked extremely old and rare. There was also a curious-looking mirror in a corner of the room which appeared to be connected to some sort of machinery, although for the life of her, Trixie couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Yet another mystery to ponder from the complicated life of Twilight Sparkle. Twilight made a checkmark on a scroll on the table in front of her, then looked up at Trixie.
“All unpacked? Is your room okay?”
“Yes, it’s fine.” Everyone seemed very concerned about how much she liked her room. Why, she wondered, when she was only going to be there for a couple of nights? She supposed they were just trying to be hospitable. Well, once she’d talked things over with Twilight, there’d likely be no need for her to stay even a single night. Trixie glanced over at a set of chairs and a sofa near one of the large windows. “Could we sit down? There’s something I’d like to discuss.”
“Oh. Sure.” Twilight laid down the quill pen she’d just been using. “Spike, could you get us some tea to drink?”
“On it,” Spike replied. As he passed by Trixie, he winked slyly. “Good luck,” he whispered, then scampered away to get the refreshments. Twilight nodded toward the chairs, and the two of them took their seats.
“So, are you excited?” Twilight began. “You must be happy that we’re actually doing this.”
“Yeah, about that…” Trixie bit her lip as she studied the pattern in the carpeting on the floor. It was one thing to boast and tease Twilight, but just talking to her? At that, she wasn’t nearly as practiced. She looked up and saw Twilight’s expression changing from friendly to confused. Trixie’s stomach knotted. She’d barely started and was already losing her audience. She was bombing. She had to get out of here. She idly wondered if she had a spare smoke bomb ready to go.
“Just be honest and tell her what’s on your mind,” the little voice whispered.
All right, then, Trixie would simply say what was on her mind, just as she always did. She knew how to handle a hostile audience: don’t show weakness, and go on the offensive. She sat up straight, eyes closed, nose held imperiously in the air. “The great and powerful Trixie has given this considerable thought, and she has decided she cannot go along with your ridiculous plan, Twilight Sparkle.”
That should satisfy the little voice, Trixie thought. She listened for it, but heard nothing. She couldn’t shake the feeling, though, that somehow, in some way, the little voice had just smacked its imaginary forehead with an imaginary hoof. Twilight’s reaction was both more definite and immediate, as her mouth fell open.
“Wait… What?” she sputtered. “My ridiculous plan?”
“Yes,” Trixie sniffed. “It’s clearly absurd and will just make fools of us all.” Trixie opened one eye to see Twilight’s face. It was a mixture of confusion, frustration, and anger. She gulped, but pressed on. Backing down now would only be more embarrassing. “Trixie has a reputation, you know.”
Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Would that be your reputation as a showoff or a troublemaker? Or are you just trying to start a new one for being a flake?”
Trixie huffed. “There’s no need to be mean about it!”
“Trixie, this was your idea!”
“Well, from a certain point of view, perhaps.”
“Not two hours ago, you were so insistent on doing this that you sent your best friend running away from breakfast in tears!”
“Trixie supposes that what she did might be seen in that light, but—”
“And I just came back from convincing Cheerilee to let you two do this!” Twilight’s eyes flashed, and she was practically shouting. Trixie was beginning to feel sick. This was everything she’d feared. Why had she listened to the little voice? Why had she tried to be honest?
“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to somehow make this out to be her fault,” the little voice whispered, its tone now openly sarcastic. “Maybe you could have tried to take responsibility for once?”
“Trixie, we’re only doing this to try and help Starlight!”
“Well, it’s a stupid plan!”
“It’s your plan!”
“Which you should have seen was stupid!” Trixie rose from her chair and began pacing nervously. “You were just supposed to notice what was bothering Starlight, not actually take my suggestion!” She looked at Twilight, then turned away. “Of all days, why did you choose this as the one time you listened to me?” she said, sadly.
Trixie walked to the corner of the library with the strange mirror. She gazed at her reflection as she recomposed herself. For just a moment, she thought she could see another figure in it. Her, but not her. She shook her head. It had to be her imagination, or some trick of the light. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to face Twilight’s wrath. She instead saw Twilight looking up, her brow furrowed, as though she were trying to solve some sort of riddle. At last, her eyes widened and she slapped a hoof to her forehead. She looked back to Trixie.
“It was all an act this morning, wasn’t it?” she said. “You coming here and saying the things you said… You were putting on an act for me, weren’t you?” Trixie swallowed and silently nodded. “You saw Starlight’s problem too, and were trying to show me, right?” Again, Trixie nodded.
They were suddenly startled by the sound of the library door opening. A cart loaded with a tea service and a platter of cookies came through the doorway, with Spike barely visible behind it as he pushed. He quickly wheeled it over to the sitting nook and laid out the refreshments on the table in front of Twilight. He motioned to Trixie to come back over and have some. As she sat down, he whispered to her.
“No tricks, no stories, no excuses, remember?” He filled the tea cups and then laid out a small plate of cookies for each of them. “Keep at it,” he whispered to Trixie. “And try the chocolate macarons. They’re really good.” With that, he beat a hasty retreat from the room. Trixie levitated the teacup to her lips and took a sip. The tea was hot and sweet, with a hint of peppermint. It was tasty, and helped to steady her nerves. She then took a bite of one of the chocolate confections he’d recommended. They were as good as he’d claimed. She decided that, perhaps, she should start taking his advice a bit more seriously.
Twilight took a sip of tea, then nodded in approval. “What was it that you were trying to show me, Trixie?” she asked.
“That… That there’s something inside of Starlight that she doesn’t want to face.” Trixie took another sip as she considered the question. “Something in her childhood. I don’t really know any more because she never wants to talk about it.”
Twilight nodded. “I saw the same thing.” She sighed, then looked Trixie in the eye. “Why didn’t you just tell me about it? Why the performance?”
“Because performing is really all that Trixie knows how to do,” she replied. “And because it’s hard for Trixie to talk to you. She thinks you look down on her. She was afraid you wouldn’t take her seriously.”
“Oh, Trixie… I don’t look down on you.”
“But you do!” Trixie protested. “You think I’m just some silly, uneducated fake magician. An egotistical, homeless failure who’s just a bad influence on your star student.” She set her teacup back onto the table and looked down at her feet. “I can’t even come up with a decent plan to help my own friend.”
“Except that I think you did,” Twilight replied firmly. She drained the last of the tea from her cup and then set it down, levitating a strawberry-frosted cookie to her mouth. “And I really hope you’ll agree to go through with it,” she added before taking a bite.
“Explain it to me, Twilight,” Trixie said. She looked back up. “How does transforming ourselves into children and playing games help Starlight?” Twilight recounted what had transpired in Starlight’s bedroom that morning. When she’d finished, Trixie looked dubious.
“You really think pretending to be a foal will help her?”
“What I know is that having her transform herself upstairs and then doing for her what my mom used to do for me helped her to open up,” Twilight replied. “I think that whatever happened to her as a child, she’s never gotten over it. And it’s not just her friend leaving her. There’s way more to it than that.”
Trixie nodded. “You mean her parents, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Twilight refilled her teacup and took a sip. “The couple of times I mentioned her mom, she reacted like I’d poked her with a hot iron. Has she told you anything?”
Trixie bit her lip. “Trixie tends to avoid talking about parents.”
“Of course.” Twilight put the teacup back down. “I can’t change Starlight’s childhood. I wish I could, but that’s impossible.” Twilight thought back to her second confrontation with Starlight, when the renegade unicorn had attempted to change the past and change the lives of Twilight and her friends. “She took me into her own past to show me, and I remember the look on her face when Sunburst left her.” She picked up an almond macaron and nibbled at it. “It was like the earth had just crumbled from under her feet, and she was drowning in the world. I almost wanted to run into her house and tell her that things would be okay.”
“Maybe you should have. It would have spared us a lot of trouble.”
“Trixie, trust me on this.” Twilight looked deadly serious. “Never try to change the past. It leads to nothing but trouble.”
“So, instead, you’re trying to give her… What? An extra childhood?”
“More like, a way to confront the things in her childhood that scared her, and have them turn out better this time.” Now it was Twilight’s turn to leave her chair and begin pacing. “She told me that she felt like everyone hated her when she was little. So, let her face the world as a child again, only this time she sees that’s not true.”
“But…” Trixie looked flustered. “Having us do Field Day just seems so…”
“Frivolous?”
“Exactly!” Trixie replied. “Trixie was sure you’d think that, so I never even considered you’d want us to go through with it. So, tell me...” She cocked her head quizzically at Twilight. “Why do you think my silly idea is a good one?”
“I guess, because it is so frivolous.”
Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
Twilight smiled sheepishly. “There’s no stakes to this. It’s just joining a whole lot of kids in a day of playing games. Everyone will be thrown together onto teams, so everyone’s equally awkward and trying to make friends. You play the games, meet the children, eat some cupcakes, and then we all go home at the end of the day. In a way, the setup is almost perfect for what I’d like her to do.” She walked back to the table to have another cookie. “These things are too good. Did you try the chocolate ones?”
“Yeah. They are good.” Trixie sighed. “Twilight, tell me the truth. Do you really think I have to do this with her?”
Twilight walked to a window and looked out, chewing her cookie thoughtfully. “I do,” she said. “This childhood experience will be different for her because she’ll have a friend she can depend on by her side.”
“Can’t you do it with her?”
Twilight shook her head. “I’m wrong for this.” She turned to face Trixie. “I’m not just her friend. I’m her teacher. And she still tends to worry about impressing me. She’d never just relax and be herself if I did this with her.” Twilight smiled, but it was a thin and wistful smile. “She needs the friend who’s her equal and who followed her into danger once already.” Twilight walked to Trixie and placed her hoof on her shoulder. “It can’t be me, Trixie. I think this can only work if it’s you.”
Trixie turned away, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She let it out and then turned back to Twilight, her expression resolute. “Twilight, I’m afraid that if I do this, I’ll look ridiculous. What if we’re recognized? What will others say? How would we ever explain it?”
Twilight was taken aback by how seriously she seemed to be taking this. “Trixie, is there something else you need to tell me? Because I’m getting that sense from you.”
“No,” Trixie lied, biting her lip. “It’s like I said. Trixie doesn’t like being humiliated.”
“You’ll just be one foal in a crowd of them. You won’t stand out at all. Besides,” Twilight replied, a twinkle in her eye. “If anyone should happen to figure out who you are, you can just say that Princess Twilight Sparkle assigned you a crazy friendship lesson and that you’re just doing what she asked you to. Then it’s all my fault.”
Trixie was running out of excuses to try. Worse, she was starting to see Twilight’s point. “What if we mess up and lose?”
“What, are you afraid they’ll make fun of you on the playground? That you won’t get picked for a team at recess?” Twilight laughed. “Trixie, there’s no stakes to this. How you do in the events doesn’t matter at all. You’ll be a kid for a couple of days, play wingpony for Starlight, then grow up again. Come in dead last if you want. All that matters is that you have fun. Considering the kinds of stuff that happens in this town, no one is going to think twice about you and Starlight doing this.”
Trixie swallowed. “Kids can be cruel, Twilight. What if this goes wrong? What if they treat us really badly?”
Twilight tilted her head questioningly. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I’m just worried that you seem a little too sure that things will go the way you think they will. On that, Trixie speaks from experience.”
Again, Twilight walked to the window that looked out over Ponyville. “I’ve lived here a few years now, Trixie,” she said quietly. “I know what these ponies are like. They won’t be cruel to you. I think this will work because I trust this town.” She turned back toward Trixie. “And because I trust you.”
Trixie sighed. “That wasn’t fair. There’s no way I can back out now.” She walked to the window and stood next to the alicorn. They both admired the town in silence. “I still have a bad feeling about this, Twilight.”
“Trixie, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe this isn’t about our feelings.” She turned toward the reluctant magician. “Maybe this should be about Starlight’s feelings.”
“You know she’s right,” she heard the little voice whisper. “And you know you want to help your friend.”
Trixie kept her gaze fixed ahead, a wan smile playing across her mouth. She knew what would happen when Starlight cast the spell. Only she really understood what a return to childhood would mean for her. But in that moment she decided that failing the first real friend she’d ever had would be worse than the embarrassment to come.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay.” She paused a moment, then nodded, as though finally convincing herself. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” Twilight softly replied.
They stood side by side in silence, each wondering where this plan would lead them. At last, Trixie spoke.
“You know, Trixie’s life was much easier when she had no friends.” She turned to Twilight. “All that ever mattered was the next town up ahead. I didn’t have to care about who I was leaving behind.”
Twilight turned to her occasional rival. “Believe it or not, Trixie, I know exactly how that feels.”
“Are we all ready for this?”
First Trixie and then Twilight nodded as Starlight put a last few touches on her new spell. A few hours had passed since Trixie had made her decision. She was still a little nervous. She knew what was coming, but had no regrets. Besides, she thought, the little voice would never let her hear the end of it if she backed out now. It was by then early afternoon, and they’d all gathered in the library for the casting of the spell.
“Okay, then let’s start this crazy plan.” Starlight levitated the scroll in front of her as she rose from her seat and walked to the others by the strange mirror. She stood in front of it, then motioned to Trixie to stand at her side while Twilight retreated a safe distance. Starlight turned to Trixie. “Last chance to call it quits.”
Trixie kept her gaze fixed on her reflection. “Do you want to do this?” she asked.
Starlight took a deep breath, then answered.
“Yes.”
“Then I’m with you all the way.”
Starlight smiled. “Glad to have you along for the ride,” she said, as she levitated the scroll into the air above them. She closed her eyes, concentrated, then loosed a bolt of magic from her horn. As in the bedroom that morning, it struck the scroll and released the curtain of light that swept down over them. For a moment, they were lost in the howling brilliance, and then the spell dissipated.
As her eyes readjusted from the glare, Trixie turned to see how her friend’s transformation had gone, then had to stifle a laugh. There she stood, mane in bunches, her long tail so much shorter. Her eyes seemed so huge, her legs so small. “Oh, Starlight,” she giggled. “You’re adorable.”
“Thanks,” Starlight began, still a bit dazzled. She turned toward Trixie. “And you…” Her voice died away as her eyes widened. “Oh, no.” She quickly retrieved the scroll still floating above them and began rereading it. “Something must have gone wrong. Wait a sec while I find it.” Trixie turned to look at Twilight, who was holding a hoof to her mouth in shock. Trixie turned back toward the mirror, then sighed. It was exactly what she’d feared.
She was at least half a head shorter than Starlight, her build thin, almost delicate. She didn’t look nine years old. She looked closer to seven. Starlight was still furiously rechecking the spell as Trixie waved a front hoof at her. “Don’t bother,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with your spell. It worked perfectly.”
“But, look at you. You’re…”
“I’m exactly how I was when I was nine,” Trixie replied. She turned back to her reflection, studying the tiny child looking out at her. “I was a late bloomer,” she explained. “I was always a lot smaller and weaker than the other kids my age. I didn’t really start growing properly till I was almost eleven.” She heard Twilight approaching from behind and turned towards her. “You said it didn’t matter if I lost every race tomorrow. That’s good, because I probably will.”
“This is what you were afraid of, wasn’t it?” Twilight said. “Not that you’d be recognized, but that you couldn’t compete with the others.”
“I told you, children can be cruel.” Trixie turned back to her reflection, tilting her head first left, then right, finally sticking out her tongue. “I hope you’re right about the kids in this town, Twilight, because otherwise they’ll be laughing their heads off at me.”
“Maybe not,” Starlight said, rolling up the scroll and setting it down on a table. “Come out back with me, right now. Both of you.” As Starlight headed for the door, Twilight called out to her.
“Can you give us a second, please?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you out behind the kitchen.” Starlight trotted out of the library, leaving Trixie and Twilight alone. Twilight moved closer and stood before her, and for the first time, Trixie began to truly appreciate the transformation she’d undergone. Twilight was small for an alicorn, only a bit taller than an average unicorn, but she seemed positively enormous now. So did the library. So did everything. The mirror she stood before seemed to tower up to the ceiling, and the ceiling seemed impossibly high now.
She felt small. And she felt a long-forgotten fear begin to grow in the pit of her stomach.
“You should have just told me,” Twilight said quietly.
“I was embarrassed,” Trixie replied.
“You shouldn’t have been. This is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Twilight,” Trixie sighed. “When you grow up either being treated like a baby or like you’re too weak to do anything, you don’t really like to talk about it with others.”
Twilight thought a moment, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I suppose you wouldn’t. Anyway…” She sat down on her haunches in front of Trixie. “I’m sorry I got so mad at you before. I thought you were just being vain.”
“It’s all right. You didn’t know.”
“Just promise me something. From now on, if anything’s bothering you and you want to talk to me, then just talk to me, okay? No more hiding things. I want us to be friends like that. And I promise, I’ll listen and take you seriously. Cross my heart.” Twilight traced an X over her heart as she finished.
Trixie snorted. “Did you pick that up from Starlight or did she get it from you?”
“I think we both got it from Pinkie Pie. She has this whole thing she does when she makes a promise, but it starts with crossing your heart.”
“Well, I suppose I like it, too.” Trixie crossed her heart. “I promise.”
“Would you two come on, already?!” they heard Starlight yell from the kitchen.
“We’d better go see what she wants,” said Twilight, as she stood and headed for the door.
“Wait for me!” Trixie cried, scampering after her.
Out to the great hall, through the kitchen, and out the delivery door, until they stood on the grounds behind the castle. It was on the outskirts of town, the terrain flat and verdant where the enchantment that had created the castle had smoothed it, rougher and wilder further on. Trixie’s wagon lay parked about half a furlong away.
“All right,” said Starlight, turning to the others. “Trixie, race me to your wagon and back.”
“What’s the point? You’ll beat me easily.”
“We’ve got to get used to these bodies, right? Race me.” Starlight scratched a line into the grass. “Come on, on your mark.”
Trixie shrugged. “Fine. Whatever.” Trixie moved to Starlight’s side as Starlight glanced over to Twilight. “Could you call it, please?” she asked.
“Sure,” Twilight replied, stepping back. “On your marks…”
The two fillies placed their hooves on the line. Starlight leaned over to Trixie. “Just run as fast as you can. No giving up before we start, okay?”
“Get set…”
They crouched, ready to spring forward. Trixie nodded, her eyes fixed on her wagon.
“Go!”
In a flash, they were off, galloping across the grounds. The race started as many had for Trixie in the past: she was running as hard as she could, determined to keep up. She knew what would follow. First, her legs would begin to burn, and then soon she’d be fighting for breath. Then the burning would give way to weakness, as what little strength she had ebbed away. Whoever she was racing would pull ahead, until she’d been left in the dust. Her gallop would slow to a canter, then to a trot, and then finally to a walk. If she even made it to the finish line, it would be to jeers and laughter, with some clever wag asking if she’d enjoyed her nap along the way.
She knew what to expect. Any second now…
They galloped on, now halfway to the wagon. Trixie stole a glance at Starlight, and was surprised to see that they were still neck and neck. Her friend was obviously holding back, trying to make her feel better. In a way, that would only make it worse when her strength left her. Which it would. Any second now…
Any second now.
Except the burning wasn’t there. If anything, she felt strong. Stronger than she ever had. Again she glanced at Starlight, and for the first time noticed the strain that showed on her face. She wasn’t holding back. She wasn’t trying to be kind. She was running as hard as she could, but they were still neck and neck, and now they had almost reached the wagon. They both aimed for the right side and began to circle around to the left.
And it was then that Trixie realized that she wasn’t tiring. She wasn’t slowing. She wasn’t falling behind. For the first time in her life, she could see something at the finish line that she never had: a chance to finally win. There was a moment of disbelief, one that that gave way to unbridled joy. As the two fillies arced around the wagon and began the lap home, Trixie felt as though she were running toward a better world.
She glanced to the side, and saw her wagon as if for the first time. How the bright and rich was its purple paint, and how its gold stars seemed to shine in the sun. It was her home, her fortress, her magic castle. It seemed so small this morning, but now it looked huge. It was beautiful. Everything was beautiful. An instant later, they’d passed it, and now they were headed back toward Twilight.
She seemed excited, jumping up and down and shouting in a way that no storybook princess ever should. Typical, awkward, stupidly sincere Twilight. She was cheering. For who? Probably Starlight. Of course for Starlight. Who else would she want to win? Who else but her student? Who else but her friend? For a moment, Trixie wished that she’d cheer for her, but only for a moment.
She didn’t need cheers to make her feel strong now. She would win this for her own sake. An almost manic smile spread across her face as she dashed for the finish.
They were halfway back now, the race still even. How much time had passed since they’d started? A few seconds? Minutes? Everything had seemed to slow down, and Trixie felt as if she could see every detail of the world. How the sun was shining, every puffy cloud in the sky, every blade of grass on the ground she raced across. In the moment when all four of her hooves were off the ground, she felt as if she were flying. Who needed teleportation? She would run across the world. She would soar.
“You can do this,” she heard the little voice whisper.
Yes. Yes, she could.
“I can do this!” the little voice said, as the finish line approached.
“I can do this!” Trixie gasped, as she dug down into herself and somehow found a tiny bit more strength, and ran a tiny bit faster. She crossed the finish line, not even bothering to see if Starlight was still at her side. Twilight was still cheering and shouting, but Trixie didn’t even hear it. She tried to slow, only to trip and tumble over onto the grass. She ended up on her back, staring up at the sky, wondering how she’d never noticed how blue and high it seemed.
She was laughing when Twilight and Starlight ran over to her.
“Are you all right?” Twilight asked worriedly. “You didn’t twist your leg, did you?”
“I’m fine,” Trixie gasped. She looked over to Starlight, who was still panting and gasping for breath. “Please say that you didn’t let me win.” She glanced at Twilight. “Did I win?”
“It was close,” said Twilight. “Really, really close, but maybe you won. By a nose. Or a horn.”
“I’ll say she won,” Starlight gasped, rolling down onto the ground next to Trixie. “That was a good race.”
The two fillies lay there a moment, catching their breath, before Trixie turned to her friend. “How was I able to run like that? I was never this strong when I was nine.”
“Simple,” Starlight replied, still panting and looking up at the sky. “You’re not nine.”
“But…”
“Not an age spell, remember?” Starlight turned to Trixie. “Transformation. We look like we did when we were foals, but we’re still grown-ups.” Starlight sat up and glanced over to Twilight. “Can you get us something to drink, please? I’m really thirsty now.”
“Sure, sure.” Twilight turned toward the kitchen door, then back again. “You were both great. It was really exciting.”
“Well,” said Trixie, “sorry I beat Starlight. No hard feelings, right?”
Twilight looked confused. “Why should you be sorry about that?”
“I saw you cheering for her. I know you wanted her to win.”
Twilight’s mouth fell open, then she stifled a laugh. “Is that what you thought I was doing? Didn’t you hear me?”
“No,” Trixie replied. “I kind of had other things on my mind.”
Twilight walked to Trixie. “I wasn’t cheering for Starlight, you dope,” she said as she playfully tapped Trixie’s forehead. Starlight immediately turned toward her teacher, a hurt look on her face. Twilight held up a hoof before she could say anything. “I was cheering for both of you.” Shaking her head and laughing to herself, she trotted off back inside.
Starlight turned back to Trixie, who still lay on her back. “We technically don’t have children’s bodies. It’s more like we have adult bodies that are kind of shrunk down. It’s complicated. There’s stuff like bone and muscle density to consider, but the point is that this…” She waved a hoof to indicate their current forms. “...is kind of an artistic interpretation of us as kids. And because of that, I had to take some creative license.”
“Creative how?”
“I kind of had to make a call on how strong we should be. If I didn’t add a limiter to the spell, we’d end up much stronger than any child should. So, I made it so that we’d each have the strength and speed of an average nine-year-old unicorn.”
“But I’m still small,” Trixie said.
“No, you look small. You still have the strength and speed of an average nine-year-old.”
A huge grin spread across Trixie’s face. “You gave me super speed!”
“No, I gave you totally average speed.”
Trixie held up her front hooves in the air in front of her, as though framing a marquee that only she could see. “Super speed!” she shouted.
Starlight giggled. “Okay, sure thing, Filli-Second. You have super speed.”
As Trixie sat up and faced Starlight, her grin faded slightly. “This isn’t cheating, right? Because I don’t think Twilight will let us get away with that.”
“No,” said Starlight, shaking her head. “We won’t have an advantage at all. Other kids will be faster than us, and others will be slower. We’ll both be totally average. You just won’t have a handicap now.”
They heard the kitchen door open and turned to see Twilight approaching, a tray with bottled apple juice levitating in front of her. “There we go,” said Starlight as she stood up. “Just what I need right now.” Trixie followed suit and both of the little unicorns trotted over to get their drinks.
“So, feeling better about tomorrow, Trixie?” Twilight asked as she opened the bottles for them.
“Yes,” Trixie replied as she levitated a drink to her lips. She took a long sip, marveling at how cold and sweet it seemed. “I think I might do all right.”
“You think you’ll do all right?” Twilight laughed. “I should mark my calendar. This is a historic day. The great and powerful Trixie isn’t absolutely sure of herself about something.”
Trixie blushed and smiled, turning her gaze downward. “Well,” she said, “maybe today is a day for changes.”
The rest of the day passed in a pleasant blur. Starlight and Trixie found that their smaller forms made the familiar places in the castle seem new and exciting. They explored its crystal corridors, and shrieked and ran giggling from the basement levels that still held a frightening number of spiders that were left over from one of Starlight’s past misadventures. They may have still been adults in mind, but it was becoming easier and easier to fall into childish behavior.
At dinner, they chattered excitedly about what the next day’s events would be like, and after dinner, Starlight insisted that they play her beloved Dragon Pit game in the library. Even Twilight was cajoled to join in, and together they sent their pieces up and down the paperboard volcano in search of the dragon’s treasure. They all laughed and held their breath each time the large marble lava ball emerged from the volcano’s peak and threatened to knock their pieces down the mountain. It was homey and warm in a way that Trixie hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.
At last, when the clock on the wall showed that it was 9 o’clock, Twilight suggested that they might get ready for bed. They protested that they were adults and didn’t have to go to sleep so early, but the day had been long and tiring, and they were beginning to feel it. Besides, they all had to get up early in the morning. At last, grumbling, the two fillies headed upstairs to their rooms. Trixie washed her face, brushed her teeth, then said goodnight to Starlight and Twilight before finally climbing into bed.
She tried to read a novel she’d borrowed from the library downstairs, but somehow couldn’t concentrate. She finally abandoned it after realizing she was just trying to read the same paragraph over and over. Her horn glowed as she opened the lamp case above her bed, releasing most of the fireflies inside that provided the light. Just a few remained to serve as a nightlight. She settled down under the covers and tried to fall asleep.
She couldn’t.
It felt impossible. She was tired, but the bed felt too big. The room felt too big. And the coming day felt too big for her to possibly handle. There, in the darkness, old fears began to whisper in her brain. She felt small and alone. But then she realized that she didn’t need to be alone.
She climbed out of bed, levitating her pillow to carry with her as she quietly opened the door. As she crept out into the dim hallway, she thought she could hear Twilight down in the kitchen. Probably making herself a late night cup of tea, or finishing up her preparations for Field Day in the morning. And for a moment, she felt an almost dizzying sense of nostalgia. She could half-recall a distant memory of sneaking out of bed at night when she was small and hearing her parents downstairs. It made her feel happy and sad.
She found Starlight’s room in the darkness and cautiously knocked. There was a moment’s hesitation, and then the door softly opened. There stood Starlight, her hair unbound and playing around her neck. She looked at Trixie standing there with her pillow floating next to her, then smiled and nodded as she opened the door wider.
“Can’t sleep either, huh?” she said as Trixie quickly walked in and closed the door behind her. “Are we having a slumber party now?”
“Maybe we should try to concentrate on the slumber part,” said Trixie as she floated her pillow onto the bed next to Starlight’s.
“Probably a good idea,” Starlight replied, as she climbed into bed and moved over to make room for her companion. Trixie climbed in next to her and drew the covers up over them.
“Apparently, I’m full of good ideas today,” Trixie joked.
“It had to happen sooner or later.”
Trixie giggled, then stared silently up at the ceiling that was barely visible in the gloom. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asked.
“No idea,” Starlight replied, also looking up. Her bed lamp too glowed softly, a few fireflies flitting around in the glass. “But I’m tired of always feeling like an outsider. If Twilight’s right and I really am just hung up on what happened when I was little, I want to do something about it.”
“Well, I don’t know how well we’ll do, but you won’t be alone,” Trixie said softly.
Starlight turned her head and seemed to study Trixie’s face. Trixie kept silent a moment, then finally turned to face her friend as well.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“Because you just seem different now. Ever since the race this afternoon.”
“Do I?” Trixie asked.
“Yes,” said Starlight as she propped herself up on an elbow. “You’re talking differently and acting differently. You’re not doing that… That thing you do.”
“What?”
“You know, ‘Trixie says this’ and ‘Trixie says that’. That was your thing. And since when aren’t you totally sure about something?”
Trixie laughed, then looked thoughtful. “Would you like me to tell you a bedtime story? It’s a good one, but it’s a little sad.”
Starlight tilted her head questioningly. “Sure, I guess.”
“Well, then lie down and I’ll tell you about the little glass unicorn.”
Starlight frowned, then lay back. They both looked up at the lamp, glowing in the darkness.
“Once upon a time,” Trixie began, “there was a little unicorn. And she was very, very little. Smaller and weaker than the other children. She couldn’t run fast and couldn’t keep up. Some of the children laughed at her, but even worse, most of the children just didn’t even notice she was there. And that made her sad, but she had a mother and father who loved her very much, and they told her that there was something special about her, and that one day she could show it to the world.”
“Did the little unicorn have a blue coat and white mane?” Starlight asked with a smile.
“She might have. May I go on?”
“Please.”
Trixie stared at the lamp, her eyes fixed on something far in the past. “One day,” she continued, “her parents told her that she’d passed a test, that she may have been small, but she was very magical. She could go to a marvelous school far away, and there she would learn to show the world how special she was.” Trixie smiled. “They were so proud of her, and promised to come visit as soon as they could. And so the little unicorn rode a train for the first time that carried her to a magical place called Canterlot.”
Starlight turned her head to look at Trixie’s face. She seemed almost hypnotized, reciting a story she’d probably told herself many times.
“In Canterlot, the little unicorn met her teacher. She was young and pretty, and gave the little unicorn an extra bit of love to help her be strong. And it worked. The little unicorn began to learn new things, things she couldn’t wait to show others. Most of all to her parents, who were coming to visit soon.” Trixie swallowed, and in the dim light, Starlight saw a tear form in her eye. “Then, one day, the pretty teacher called the little unicorn aside, and had awful news. Her parents had died, and she would never see them again. The little unicorn cried and cried, because her parents were her world.”
The tear slipped down her cheek. Trixie was silent a moment, then carried on. “Now, the little unicorn wasn’t alone. She had an auntie to take her in, and her auntie loved her very much.” She paused. “She loved her too much.” She turned to Starlight. “You see, she had just lost her sister and her brother-in-law. All she had left was her niece, and her niece was so small and frail. Too weak to be so far away at a dangerous school in a strange city.”
Starlight said nothing. Trixie wiped the tear away as she looked back up at the lamp.
“The little unicorn came home from her school so that her auntie could keep her safe. And so she did. Safe from other children, safe from anything that could hurt her. Safe from learning magic.” Trixie sighed. “Her aunt, you see, was sure that the little unicorn was made of glass, and that the world was so hard that it would shatter her if she let it. And eventually, the little unicorn came to believe it, too.”
“But she wasn’t glass, was she?” Starlight asked.
“No,” Trixie replied. “But she didn’t know that, yet. Anyway, now comes the best part. Because she still wanted the world to see her, and found another way. She couldn’t learn real magic on her own, but she could do stage magic. She could impress others with tricks. She could give others a great show.” Trixie smiled at the memory. “She prepared, but as the day of her first performance drew near, she got scared. Because she was made of glass, remember? She was afraid that she’d fail, and that she’d be shattered.”
She turned her gaze back to Starlight. “And that’s when she had an idea. Maybe she was glass, but what if she could imagine a pony who wasn’t? Someone she could pretend to be, just to put on her show. A pony who wasn’t small and weak.”
“One who was great and powerful…” whispered Starlight.
Trixie nodded and laughed softly, embarrassed. “It seems silly, but it worked. That’s how Trixie was born.”
“So, Trixie is just…”
“She was a mask the little unicorn could wear. See, the little unicorn was frightened of others, but the great and powerful Trixie could handle any crowd. The little unicorn was always unsure of herself, but the great and powerful Trixie never was. She could do absolutely anything she set her mind to, and didn’t have to care about anyone else. She was another pony, one that was made of diamond, not glass.”
“Another pony…” mused Starlight. A thought struck her. “Is that why you talked about her the way you did? Like she was a different pony than you?”
Trixie shrugged, then continued her story. “At first, she would just pretend to be Trixie to do her shows. But then she realized that she liked being Trixie. It was easier to be Trixie. And so, more and more, the little unicorn just pretended to be her, until she was pretending all the time. The little unicorn could step back and let Trixie handle the world, until she just became a little voice that kept her from going too far.”
Starlight studied her friend’s face. It was like seeing someone familiar, and yet totally different. “Until today?” Starlight asked. Trixie nodded.
“There was a moment during the race when the little unicorn saw the world differently,” she said. “She saw a world where she didn’t need to be Trixie, and that the world wasn’t as hard as she’d thought.” She laughed softly. “So, she gave Trixie a couple of days off. Goodness knows, she’s earned it.” She rolled over and closed her eyes. “The end. Time for bed.”
“Wait,” said Starlight. Trixie rolled back over towards her friend. “What was her name?”
“Who?”
“The little glass unicorn. What’s her name?”
Trixie smiled. “Lulamoon,” she replied.
“Lulamoon…” Starlight repeated. “It’s pretty.”
“Thank you.”
Starlight held out a hoof. Lulamoon hesitated, then gingerly held out her own. They softly touched them together, and unlike the hug earlier that day, Starlight felt no awkwardness or discomfort in her friend.
“Hello, Lulamoon. My name is Starlight Glimmer. I’m glad I could finally meet you.”
The morning sun was already well over the horizon and climbing into the sky as Starlight Glimmer lay dozing in its warmth. She drifted in a wonderful place between sleep and waking, where thoughts would half form before spinning away back to oblivion. The place where dreams lingered, before daylight finally chased them away. It felt comfortable and safe, where even monsters from the past could not reach her. There was nothing she wanted more at that moment than to be left to dream the day away, but a gentle hoof upon her shoulder finally shook her awake.
“Starlight…” she heard Twilight calling, softly. “Starlight, wake up.”
Starlight stirred, then yawned and sat up, blinking her eyes as they adjusted to the golden light. Twilight stood by her bedside, looming over her. There was a smile on her face that was odd in a way that Starlight couldn’t quite put her nose on, as if she was hiding some private joke that was fairly bursting to get out. “Good morning,” she said brightly.
“Morning.” Confusion crept onto Starlight’s face. “Why do you look so big?”
Twilight chuckled. “Probably because you’re so little now.” She playfully tapped Starlight’s forehead with her hoof. “And you’re clearly not totally awake yet, are you?”
Shaking the sleep from her head, the previous day’s events came back to her. Starlight held up her own forelegs and saw her now tiny hooves. That’s right, she thought. Nine years old for the next couple of days. Which meant today was Field Day. Today, they’d see if Twilight and Trixie’s plan would work. Then she remembered what else had happened the night before. She turned to look at her friend, still blissfully asleep next to her.
Not Trixie, thought Starlight. Lulamoon. She’d glimpsed something heretofore unseen in her friend. She’d be spending the day with someone who was both familiar and new to her. Someone who apparently shared Trixie’s sleeping habits, because she showed no signs of waking, even now. Starlight shook her gently.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Time to get up, sleepyhead.” Lula grumbled and burrowed deeper into her pillow. Starlight shook her a bit harder. “Come on, we need to get ready!” The tiny blue unicorn shrugged her away and kicked at her.
“I don’t wanna go to school!” she whined.
Twilight brought her hoof to her mouth to stifle a giggle. Losing patience, Starlight leaned over and spoke into her companion’s ear. “Okay, but then you won’t get any cupcakes when it’s over.” Lulamoon’s eyes snapped open as she sat bolt upright, nearly knocking Starlight off the bed.
“I want cupcakes!” she blurted out, then looked around. “Wait… What’s going on, again?” she asked.
“Field Day,” Starlight replied, barely hoisting herself back to safety with Twilight’s help. “Time to spend the day with the local grade schoolers.” She poked Lula in the side. “You are nearly impossible to wake up, you know that?”
“I had a long day yesterday,” Lula protested. She finally noticed Twilight. “Good morning. Are we late?”
“No,” replied Twilight. “It’s almost seven. We need to report to the school field by eight-thirty, so there’s plenty of time.” Twilight walked to the door, then looked back. “Get washed up and meet me in the kitchen. Spike’s getting breakfast ready.” She brought her hoof to her mouth as if trying to hide the broad smile she wore, then to her breast as she sighed. Shaking her head, she trotted out to the hall as the two little unicorns watched.
There was a long silence before Lulamoon spoke. “Okay,” she said. “What was that all about?”
“What?” Starlight replied.
“The smile, the hoof on the heart thing. She looks like…” Lula searched for the words. “Like she just found a book called The Ten Most Heartwarming Stories Ever and then read every one.” She paused. “Twice.”
“I dunno,” said Starlight as she climbed down to the floor. “It’s Twilight. She gets emotional over everything.” She laughed to herself. “I once saw her shopping for greeting cards and she started crying while reading them.”
Lula’s eyes widened. “No!” she said in disbelief. Starlight nodded her head vigorously, holding her right foreleg over her heart.
“Filly Guides honor, I swear it’s true.”
“Wow…” Lula looked at the door where Twilight had stood. “Stupidly sincere doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
“What was that?” asked Starlight.
“Nothing.” Lulamoon climbed down to the floor. “We’d better get ready. I’ll go to my room for my stuff.”
“Okay, meet you back here in a few minutes.”
The now shrunken stage magician trotted out the door, leaving Starlight alone for the first time since the previous night. Everything in the room seemed too big for her now. The bed. The bureau. She could barely even see herself in the mirror on top of it. Not for the first time, she wondered if they weren’t about to make a terrible mistake.
True, she’d been the one to start all this by writing this age illusion spell, but that had been for Sunburst to see. She’d hoped that he’d be impressed by her technique, as well as overcome by nostalgia for the childhood they’d shared. But that would have been for the two of them alone. This… This was different. This would be going out and facing the world as a child.
She sighed. Deep down, she suspected that Twilight was right. That, at her core, she still faced the world as a child, and had simply gotten very good at hiding it. No wonder Trixie had seen the truth first; she and Starlight both wore masks with which they hid themselves from others. Well, Lulamoon had taken off her mask, and now it was time for her to follow suit.
She needed to face her fears and finally free herself from her past. Only then would she ever be able to find peace. First, though, she needed to wash up and fix her hair.
Fifteen minutes later, Lulamoon stood next to Starlight in her room in front of a full length mirror as Starlight carefully parted her mane into bunches and tied them back with her magic. She was utterly absorbed in the task, having long since fallen out of practice. She bit her lip in concentration as she finished up, the hair ties knotted into pretty little bows, then stepped back to admire her work. Lula, meanwhile, simply brushed her mane into her usual curly flip, then floated her hairbrush to the top of the now oversized bureau. The two adults turned children sat down on their haunches and gazed at their reflections in silence. It was Starlight who finally spoke first.
“So, there we are. The new kids in town.”
“Yeah,” Lula replied. “It almost doesn’t seem like it’s really me in there.” She turned to her friend. “Starlight, this spell of yours… It only changes how we look, right? Not how we think?”
“That’s the whole idea behind it. Why?”
“Well…” Lulamoon turned back to her reflection, a shadow of concern crossing her face. “Ever since you cast it yesterday, I’ve been thinking things that I never normally would. I feel like…” She trailed off, not wanting to complete the thought, but Starlight suspected what she meant.
“Like you really are a little kid?” Starlight asked.
“Exactly!” Lula exclaimed. “Just being this small again is making me feel things I haven’t felt since I actually was nine. And now I feel like…” She turned back to the mirror and studied the tiny unicorn looking back at her. “Like I’m about to go to a new school, and the teacher’s going to make me stand up in front and introduce myself.”
Starlight winced at the thought. “Oh, I hated that!” she said. “It’s like everyone in the room is judging you.”
Lulamoon nodded. “And you’re all alone up there and don’t know what to say, and you just know that no one will ever want to sit with you at lunch!”
“Yeah, that’s the worst.” Starlight looked through the mirror and far back through the years. “No one ever really sat with me,” she said. She lapsed back into silence, then let out a surprised yelp as Lula suddenly grabbed onto her from behind, throwing her forelegs around Starlight and pressing her head over her friend’s shoulder and next to hers.
“Well!” she declared with loud confidence, “you won’t be alone in front of the kids this time! I’m your wingpony! I’m here to help you fly!” She leaned in against Starlight’s back, held out her forelegs to each side and began flapping them. “See? I’m giving you wings!”
“I don’t think that’s what ‘wingpony’ means—”
“Wi-i-ings…” Lula stage whispered, flapping even harder. “And super spe-e-ed…”
Starlight snorted with laughter, and soon Lulamoon joined in as well, bringing her waving forelegs back down to hang onto Starlight’s back as the two fillies collapsed into helpless giggling. She still held on after they’d regained their composure, the two friends looking at their reflections, their faces cheek to cheek.
“You know what I see in there?” Lula softly asked.
“What?”
“The two most popular new kids in school,” she said with a smile. “The ones all the fillies will want to sit with at lunch.”
Starlight chuckled. “And I suppose all the little colts will want to be our boyfriends?”
“Oh, naturally! We’re irresistible, after all. And we’ll be the first they pick for teams at recess!”
Starlight’s expression turned distant as she imagined the sort of life Lula was describing. A childhood full of friends and popularity, as fantastic to her as something from a fairy tale. “And after school, we’ll be invited over everyone’s houses to play,” she murmured to herself. “And on our birthdays, every kid in town will want to come…”
Lulamoon laughed, imagining their imminent takeover of the elementary school social scene, then realized that her friend wasn’t laughing at all. She climbed down from Starlight’s back, then gently brought a forehoof to her companion’s chin and turned her head to face her. “Hey,” she said gently. “It’s going to be fine. Just playing with some kids for the day.”
Starlight answered with a crooked smile. “I know it shouldn’t matter,” she said. “I know it’s just some games, but still…” She looked at the floor a moment, sighed, then faced Lula again. “I just hope the other kids will like me.”
Lulamoon touched her hoof to Starlight’s chest. She understood that fear. It was the prayer that every new kid whispered to herself just before standing in front of the class. “Of course they’ll like you,” she replied. “How could they not?”
The aroma of cinnamon and brown sugar had begun wafting up from downstairs. “Are you two ready yet?” Twilight called from the bottom of the stairs. “Your breakfast is getting cold!”
“Come on,” said Lulamoon as she turned toward the door. “Before Mom starts yelling at us.” Starlight snorted a laugh and followed behind.
Twilight and Spike were already waiting in their seats as the girls took their places at the kitchen table. Spike couldn’t help but giggle when he saw that Lulamoon’s head was now nose-level with the tabletop, drawing a hurt look from her in response. Twilight only smiled, then turned to her scaly assistant.
“Spike, could you run to the library and get my Unabridged Tales of Maretonia, please?”
“Um, sure,” he replied, looking puzzled as he left his seat. “What do you need that for?”
“It’s for Trixie.”
Spike raised a brow ridge questioningly and turned to leave when Lula cleared her throat. “Twilight,” she began. “May I ask a favor?”
“Of course. What is it?”
“Well,” she said as she stood, bracing her forelegs onto the tabletop in order to face the princess, “while I’m like this, could you not call me Trixie, please?”
Twilight frowned. “You’re not still worried about others recognizing you, are you?”
“It’s not really that, just… Call me Lulamoon instead, okay? Or just Lula, for short.”
Twilight looked at Spike, who simply shrugged and departed to fetch the requested book. “Okay, fine with me, I guess,” she said, turning back to the little unicorn. “Lulamoon, huh?” She repeated the name as though tasting a new food. “That’s cute. I like it.”
“Thanks,” Lula replied. Twilight began levitating bowls of steaming hot oatmeal in front of them while they waited for Spike. He returned only a few moments later, struggling with an enormous tome. “I’ve got the book, Twilight,” he wheezed as he staggered back toward the table. “Where do you want it?”
“Put it where Lulamoon is sitting. Lula, could you move, please?”
Spike heaved the heavy book into Lula’s place as she stepped away, then returned to his own. She eyed the thick volume suspiciously. “Am I supposed to read something in this to give me advice for the coming day?” she asked.
“No,” replied Twilight. “You’re supposed to sit on it so that you can eat your breakfast.”
“Oh.” Lula sighed as she climbed onto her makeshift booster seat. She began eating her meal, grumbling to herself for needing special treatment at the table. Starlight leaned over. “It’s not so bad,” she whispered. “At least it’s not a high chair.” Glaring, Lula shoved her away, then pouted.
They ate silently for a few moments before Twilight spoke. “So, excited about today?”
“Excited. Nervous. Kind of scared,” Starlight replied. She levitated a spoon dripping with the hot cereal into her mouth, then returned it to her bowl and looked for the bowl of brown sugar on the table. She floated it over and began measuring out a few spoonfuls into her oatmeal. “Lula and I were just wondering if the other kids will like us.” She replaced the sugar on the table and began idly stirring her bowl. “It’s silly how worried I am about that.”
“It’s not silly at all. It’s totally normal.” Twilight paused to spoon some of her own food into her mouth. “It’s also exactly why we’re doing this. And I think you’ll both do fine.” As she returned to eating, she again looked across the table at her young companions, and brought her hoof to her mouth to cover her smile. Lulamoon noticed it, frowned, then could finally stand it no longer.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
Twilight tried to play innocent. “What do you mean?”
“You!” said Lula, standing atop the book to bring herself eye level with her. “You keep looking at us and grinning like a fool! What gives?!”
Twilight wiped the smile from her face. “Nothing gives,” she replied, making herself stony-faced. The effort collapsed after only a moment, drawing laughter from Starlight. Twilight was a genius at many things, she thought, but she carried her heart on her forehead. Hiding her feelings was nearly impossible for her. Twilight’s huge grin returned as she blushed.
“It’s you two,” she explained. “It’s what I saw when I came to wake you up.”
“What did you see?” Starlight asked, tilting her head.
Twilight bit her lip, looking as though she was about to burst with glee. “I came in and saw you two asleep together,” she began. “So, I thought ‘Oh, that’s convenient. I can wake them both up at the same time.’ And then when I got closer, I saw it.” She paused, almost squealing to herself at the memory. Starlight and Lula looked nervously at each other.
“I saw how you were both cuddling together in your sleep,” Twilight blurted out. “Starlight, you had your forelegs wrapped around her like you were trying to protect her from something, and Lula was burrowed into you, and you both had these sweet little smiles on your faces, and it was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and… And…” Twilight paused her rambling. “And I just dropped dead right there and you’re talking to my ghost now.”
Twilight’s grin threatened to split her face in half as the two fillies looked uncomfortably around the room, trying not to look at her or each other. Lula blushed while Starlight rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment. A terrible, awkward silence fell across the table.
“I wish I’d had a camera,” Twilight finally said.
“I’m kinda glad you didn’t,” Starlight mumbled to herself.
Twilight’s eyes suddenly widened. “A camera!” she exclaimed. “We need a camera for today!”
“We really don’t,” replied Starlight, desperation in her voice.
“We do! Excuse me!” Twilight began shoveling oatmeal into her mouth in the most unprincesslike way imaginable, then wiped her face with her foreleg. “You two, finish up and meet me by the front door. Spike, you clear the dishes when you’re all done. I’ll be down in a little while!” Twilight dashed through the kitchen door, headed for the stairs.
“Honestly, you don’t have to bother—” Lula began.
“We can make a photo album from this!” Twilight gleefully called back.
The two fillies and baby dragon stared silently at the door, then resumed eating. After a few more spoonfuls, Lulamoon turned to Starlight. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Here’s the plan. If she tries dressing us up, we kick her in the shins and then run for it. Deal?”
Starlight swallowed another spoonful of oatmeal, keeping her gaze fixed on the doorway. “Deal,” she replied.
It was nearly 8 o’clock when Starlight and the others were all gathered in the castle entryway. Hooves had been washed, dishes cleared, and they were ready to leave for Ponyville elementary school. Twilight had made her reappearance, now sporting two fully-packed saddlebags and a camera bag that levitated in the air next to her. She passed it over to Spike.
“Here you go, Spike,” she said. “You get to be the official cameraman for today.”
“Yes!” he exclaimed, pumping the air with his clawed fist. His eyes suddenly widened. “Wait! I’ll need—”
“And here’s your reporter hat,” Twilight continued, floating a gray fedora onto his head, a card reading “press” held in its band.
Lulamoon leaned over to Starlight to whisper in her ear. “What’s with the hat?” she asked, nodding toward Spike.
Starlight leaned in to answer. “He really likes hats,” she explained. “He’s got a ton of them he likes to wear, for all occasions.” Lula snorted.
“Perfect!” Spike said, looking smug as he opened the bag and began loading the camera with film. As he fussed with it, Twilight removed the bags she was carrying and did a last minute check of their contents. Lula and Starlight moved closer, curious to see what she had.
“Do you really need so much stuff just to cheer for us?” Starlight asked as she peered into one.
Twilight nodded. “Cheerilee gave me a list of things parents are supposed to bring. That’s why I was up late last night. I was getting this all ready and packed up.”
Lula glanced sidelong at Starlight, an eyebrow arched. “Oh, she’s our parent now, huh?” she whispered. “Joy.” Starlight shushed her.
Twilight began ticking off the contents of one. “Lunches for all of us. I hope you like daisy and tomato sandwiches. I got some really nice nutty bread from the bakery on the way home yesterday.” Her horn flared as she rummaged a bit deeper down. “Bottles of apple juice, courtesy of Applejack. Fresh apples for snacks, also courtesy of Applejack.” She brought out a small jar. “Some honey, for dipping the apples in, because that’s what my mom always brought when she took snacks for me. A blanket to sit on. And… Oh! Almost forgot!”
Twilight floated a small bottle from the other bag and opened it, squeezing some cream onto her forehoof. She leaned forward and dabbed a bit on Starlight’s and Lula’s noses and began spreading it around. Lulamoon immediately wrinkled up her nose and pulled away, rubbing at it. “What did you just put on us?!” she demanded.
“Sunblock,” said Twilight. “You’re going to be out in the sun all day. You don’t want to get burned, do you?”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Lula growled. “Can we go now?”
Her tiny horn glowed as she opened the front door and scampered outside. Starlight began to follow, then stopped. There’d be no turning back once she stepped over the threshold, and she found herself once again filled with doubts. Her heart began to pound as her breathing quickened, and then as if by magic, Twilight was standing at her side.
“That last step’s the hardest one, huh?” she said.
Starlight kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, looking out the door. Lulamoon had dashed up the walkway leading toward town, and was now impatiently motioning for them to join her. “There is nothing for me to be scared of,” Starlight said quietly. “I’m just going to meet some children. I am an adult.” Even as she said it, Starlight wondered who she was trying to convince: Twilight, or herself. She turned and looked up at her mentor.
“Okay,” said Twilight. “That was big Starlight talking. What does little Starlight say?”
Starlight took a deep breath. “Little Starlight thinks I should turn around right now and run back upstairs. She wants to jump back in bed for the rest of the day and pull the blankets over her head.”
Twilight nodded, then sat down on her haunches, leaning down till she was eye level with the little purplish-pink unicorn. “Is she afraid of getting hurt?” Starlight opened her mouth to answer, but could only nod yes.
Twilight was silent, wondering how to break the stalemate, until the answer became clear. She sat up, then reached forward and hugged Starlight close. There was a moment of resistance, then Starlight relaxed, dropping to her haunches as well. Slowly, in her teacher’s warm embrace, the fear began to leave her.
“I know you’ve been hurt before,” Twilight said softly. “I know how scary it is to open yourself up to others. But you won’t be alone out there.” She gently brought a hoof to Starlight’s chin and tilted her head up. “You’ll have me and Spike, cheering for you.” Twilight then pointed out the door. “And you’ll have Trixie there, who I think is going to leave without us in another minute.”
“Lulamoon,” replied Starlight. “Call her Lulamoon.”
Twilight blushed. “Right. Sorry, I forgot.” She ruffled Starlight’s hair, then climbed to her feet. “Maybe, just for today and tomorrow, don’t think of yourself as big Starlight or little Starlight. Just be Starlight. Be scared, but be strong, too. Go out and face what you’re afraid of, and then you’ll see.”
Starlight tilted her head. “See what?” she asked as she stood.
“You’ll know it when you see it,” replied Twilight. She nudged her student forward. “Now, get going! You’ve got ponies to meet and races to run!” Starlight took a deep breath, then ran to join Lulamoon while Twilight and Spike locked the front door.
“What, did Mommy have to wipe your nose and help you go potty before we left?” Lulamoon smirked.
Starlight glared her. “Don’t be mean! This is hard for me!” she shot back.
Lula prepared to launch a retort, then reconsidered. “Sorry, it’s just… You both are just…” She finally let out an exasperated sigh. “C’mon, let’s just get going!” She began trotting out to the street as Starlight hurried after her. She looked back to make sure that Twilight and Spike were following them, then ran to catch up with Lula.
“We’re just what?” Starlight demanded as she fell into a trot at her friend’s side.
“Nothing! Never mind,” Lula replied. They were approaching the northern edge of Ponyville, and the town’s wood beam and plaster buildings grew more numerous. The school lay on the southwest edge of town, but Ponyville was small, and the walk wouldn’t take long. The streets were already filling with adults headed to work, but Starlight noticed that a great many school age foals and their families were also headed in the same general direction. Ponyville’s First Annual Field Day looked like it was attracting quite a crowd.
Starlight and Lulamoon walked on in silence before Lula turned to speak. “If I hadn’t come over yesterday and set this ball rolling, what would you be doing today?”
“Probably just our usual routine,” Starlight replied. “Twilight would be doing her princess stuff, I’d be studying magic. Spike would probably be helping Twilight.”
Lulamoon cocked her head. “Princess stuff?” she asked. “Like what?”
“Well…” Starlight considered the question as they made a right turn and headed toward Sugarcube Corner. What did Twilight do all day? “It seems to involve writing lots of paperwork. There is a surprising amount of paperwork involved with being a princess, apparently.”
Lula raised an eyebrow. “Really? Doesn’t she have… You know, other ponies to do that?”
“Not her,” Starlight replied. “She seems to be sending letters off to everyone these days. After that whole attempted invasion a couple of moons back, she’s gotten it into her head that Equestrian diplomacy needs to step up its game. She wants to make sure that no more Storm Kings show up out of nowhere.”
Lulamoon shuddered at his mention. She and Starlight had barely managed to avoid getting caught up in that mess, when Canterlot had been occupied for several days. Fortunately, Twilight and her friends had managed to save the day. It was all over by the time she and Starlight had emerged from hiding. As Starlight described their day, something occurred to Lula.
“So, wait,” she broke in. “You’re saying that Twilight just dropped everything to do this for you?”
Starlight shrugged. “I guess,” she replied. “I never thought about it. She just thinks this is really important.”
“No,” said Lula with an impish grin. “She thinks you’re really important.”
Starlight knew she was being teased. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” she sputtered.
Lulamoon stopped short, then looked her friend up and down. “Oh, my goodness,” she said in amazement. “You really don’t know what I mean, do you?” She resumed her trot, chuckling to herself as she shook her head. Confused and irritated, Starlight followed.
“So what if Twilight cares about me,” she said as she caught up with Lula. “She’s my teacher. And my friend.”
“I’ve had teachers before,” Lula replied. “I only had one that even came close to the way Twilight cares about you.”
“And my friend,” Starlight reminded her.
Lulamoon snorted. “Yeah, a friend. Tell me something: where do you live?”
“In the castle, of course,” Starlight replied, bewilderment in her voice.
“What does she charge you for rent?” Lula pressed as they rounded a corner.
They’d reached the smaller town square, with its fountain and cluster of shops. Starlight could just make out the gingerbread roof facade of Sugarcube Corner, the town’s cake shop, as they made a right and headed for the bridge leading to Ponyville Elementary. She looked back to see Twilight and Spike pausing a moment to look down one of the streets. She vaguely remembered hearing that this was near where the old town library had stood. It had been their home until it was destroyed in one of the many attacks the town had suffered, and they always seemed to get a little nostalgic around here.
Starlight turned back to Lulamoon. “She doesn’t charge me anything. She has lots of spare rooms.”
“Uh-huh,” nodded her friend. “Do you ever, I don’t know, buy food or anything for her?”
“Of course not,” Starlight replied. “She’s a princess. She gets money from Canterlot to maintain the castle.”
“And tell me, what do you do for a living, Starlight?”
“Nothing. I’m her student. She gives me a stipend every week.”
“Oh, a stipend,” Lula laughed. “That’s a fancy word for an allowance, isn’t it? And how are you still her student? I thought you graduated last year.”
The bridge was finally in sight. The crowd had grown fairly thick here, and a line of adults and foals were crossing the mill brook and headed for the school. As the pedestrian traffic snarled up, Starlight and Lulamoon waited for Twilight and Spike to rejoin them.
“What are you getting at?” demanded Starlight. “What, are you jealous or something?”
Lulamoon silently looked at her, and sighed. “Maybe I am,” she said. “And maybe I can’t believe that you won’t admit what she is to you.”
“And what’s that?!”
Lula rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s go through this: she gives you free room and board, gives you a weekly allowance, hugs you when you’re scared, pats you on the head to make you feel better, and will clear her whole schedule just to take you to a kids’ sports day so she can cheer for you. What does that sound like to you?”
Starlight was silent a moment before she stammered out her answer.
“A really good teacher and friend?”
Lulamoon boggled at her. “Honestly, you can be the dumbest genius sometimes.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Nothing, nothing,” Lula replied. “Oh, look!” she said brightly. “Here comes Mommy and Little Brother!”
Twilight and Spike made their way through the crowd, wishing passersby good morning. She was a longtime resident and most of the town knew her from when she was just the gawky young unicorn from Canterlot who liked to volunteer for everything. Still, she was royalty, and she had her fans. The town’s children loved her, and she enjoyed greeting them most of all. In a crowd of school kids, the going was slow. At last, they caught up with their small companions.
“Big crowd for this, huh?” said Twilight, wiping some sweat beading on her forehead as she looked up at the cloudless sky. “The pegasi really whipped up a nice summer day for us.” She surveyed the crowd in front of them as they slowly squeezed themselves across the narrow bridge over the mill brook. The next closest bridge was a few furlongs down river, further away from the school, and no one seemed willing to walk to it.
“This is taking forever,” Lula moaned. “We don’t have to wait, surely!”
“Oh, no,” said Twilight, annoyed at the implication. “I am not going to abuse my title and order anypony to move for us! That’s not how I do things! We can wait.”
“I didn’t mean that!” Lula replied. “Although that would probably be the easiest thing to do,” she grumbled. “No, I meant we can all teleport, right? And we’re outside now, so there’s no walls to worry about. Come on!” She bent her head down and closed her eyes as her horn began to glow. Starlight gasped as she realized what was happening. “Lula, no!” she shouted. Without even thinking, she raised a foreleg and smacked her friend’s horn.
Almost instantly, the mana field forming around it flickered and dissipated. Lulamoon staggered backwards onto her rump, grabbing her head in pain. “What’s the big idea?!” she gasped, massaging her forehead.
“Lula, whatever you do, don’t try to teleport!” Starlight exclaimed. “We’ve got an illusion and a transfiguration spell cast on us both!”
“So?!” she groaned. “What’s that got to do with smacking me in the face?!”
Twilight sat down to examine her. “It means you don’t have a real sense of your own body right now,” she explained. “Teleportation depends on you knowing where all your parts are, so you bring everything with you when you do it.” She reached down and moved Lula’s hooves a bit wider apart. “Try rubbing these spots here, okay?”
Lula did as instructed. “Oh, that’s much better,” she said as the pain began to fade. She looked up at Twilight. “What would have happened if I’d done it?”
“Well, you might have gotten across the bridge, but left pieces of yourself on this side,” Twilight explained.
Lula shivered, then looked at Starlight. “Is there any part of teleportation that doesn’t involve the risk of cutting myself in half or ripping myself apart?” Starlight and Twilight both turned to each other, then back to Lulamoon and shook their heads. The tiny blue unicorn groaned. “Fine!” she said. “I’ll wait my turn!”
The wait wasn’t too long, and soon they were across the brook. Turning left, they followed the crowd to the red schoolhouse that lay on the edge of town. The school’s field was fairly small, but neighbors had helpfully allowed the use of their land for the day. Starlight and the others could see children and adults milling about in the confusion that typically preceded large events like this. Twilight glanced around, searching for something.
“Ah!” she exclaimed. “There’s the check-in table. We need to go there first.”
At one of the schoolyard picnic tables stood a magenta earth pony with green eyes. Cheerilee was the town’s only elementary school teacher, and Twilight’s twin loves of school and volunteering had led to a fast friendship with her soon after the young unicorn had moved to Ponyville. She was pretty and an enthusiastic teacher. Her students all loved her.
Catching sight of the princess and her entourage, Cheerilee waved them over. “Good morning, Twilight,” she said brightly as they approached. She looked down at Starlight and Lulamoon. “And these are the, um, new girls, I take it?”
“Yes,” Twilight replied, indicating each as she introduced them. “Starlight and Lulamoon.”
Cheerilee frowned. “I thought you said it was Starlight and Trixie—”
Twilight cleared her throat as she nervously interrupted. “Little mix-up on one of the names.” She nodded toward Lula. “It’s Lulamoon.”
Cheerilee shrugged, made a correction on her list, then turned to the girls.
“Okay, glad to have to both joining us today. Before you go off to your team, I need to go over something with you.” She leaned closer and motioned for them to huddle in. “Now,” she said quietly. “I realize that you aren’t like the other children who will be competing, so I need to make something extra clear.” She looked around the make certain no one was eavesdropping, then continued. “To make these games fair, we’re restricting everyone to legs only. No wings for pegasi, and no magic for unicorns. Everyone’s an earth pony for today, all right?”
The girls both nodded. Cheerilee continued.
“This is important, especially for you two, because your magic is much stronger than any of the other children here. If either one of you tries to use it to help your team win, you’re going to get your team disqualified.” She glanced at Twilight. “Now, Twilight assured me that there’d be no trouble, so please… Please, for the sake of the other children you’ll be playing with, be careful. Okay?”
“I promise,” said Starlight. She looked over at Lula, who seemed to be eyeing the snack table. Twilight cleared her throat loudly, several times, until the little blue eating machine finally noticed.
“I promise, too. I’m here for the free cupcakes, not to win,” she said.
“Oh,” said Cheerilee as she walked back to the table, “I’m sure the rest of your team will appreciate your enthusiasm.” She bent down and began rummaging through a cardboard box under the table, emerging with two yellow ball caps in her mouth. She trotted over and placed them on their heads. “There you go, you are both now officially on Cherry Team.”
Starlight peered at Lula’s cap, seeing a patch with two cherries sewn onto it. Spike eyed the cap enviously. “You get hats, too?” he said. “Lucky!”
Twilight bent down to whisper in his ear. “I’ll see if they have any extras.”
“There are six teams total,” Cheerilee explained. “Nine children per team. Just look for the sign with your fruit on it and meet your teammates. Once you’ve all settled in, you’ll meet your team coach, and they’ll explain all the details.” She looked over at Twilight. “You’re sure this will be all right?”
“It’ll be fine, I promise,” Twilight replied. “And thanks. I owe you for this.”
Cheerilee laughed. “And I’ve lost count of what I owe to you.” She turned back to the girls. “I hope you both have lots of fun. To be honest, I’m a little jealous. Maybe when this is over, I’ll want to try this out for a weekend, too.”
“Oh,” said Lulamoon, “do you also have a whole bunch of unresolved issues from your childhood?”
“Okay, hey! Why don’t we find your team now?” said Twilight as she hustled them away, a bead of nervous sweat forming on her forehead. As they walked toward the waiting areas for the various teams, Twilight lowered her head and motioned to the girls to come closer. “I may not have told Cheerilee all the details about why we’re doing this,” she said quietly. “It seemed like the prudent thing to do.”
“Good call,” Starlight whispered to Lula. “I’d be nervous about having me participate, too.”
“You stop that talk right now!” Lula shot back. “We are both great, powerful, irresistible, and adorable! Just you watch!”
Starlight laughed and then looked at the others: Twilight, over prepared as usual and fretting over details. Lulamoon, determined to keep her positive. And Spike, ready to document it all while offering counsel to the neurotic unicorns in his life. Whatever happened today, she was glad this group was with her.
They walked along through the crowd of adults and children, past signs painted with different fruits. Apple. Pear. Peach. Berry. Orange. And finally a sign with two cherries. They had found their team. Starlight and the others stood on the fringe of the area, surveying the small group that were already waiting. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Twilight.
“I think this is where we go in alone,” she said.
Twilight nodded, then caressed Starlight’s cheek. “Have fun,” she said. “And just try to help your team as best you can.” She gazed at her little student, then suddenly opened her saddlebag and brought out the little bottle from before, dabbing a bit more of the sunscreen on Starlight’s nose. “Just to be safe,” she said. She then looked questioningly at Lula, who sighed and stepped forward, offering her nose as well.
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” she mumbled as Twilight dabbed a bit on.
“Good luck, you two,” said Twilight as she put the bottle away. “I’ll be cheering for you both.”
“And I’ll be taking pictures!” added Spike. He suddenly stopped and held a up a claw finger, as though motioning for the others to give him a moment. As they watched, he let loose an enormous belch of green flame, which resolved itself into a ribbon-tied scroll. Spike caught the scroll neatly as it fell and presented it to Twilight. “You’ve got mail,” he said.
Twilight’s horn glowed as she took the scroll from the little dragon and opened it to read. She nodded to herself, then rolled it back up. “Well, I know what I’m doing tomorrow,” she said as she tucked it into one of her bags.
“Anything wrong?” Starlight asked.
“No, just an answer to a letter I sent yesterday. I’ll need to pop over to Canterlot tomorrow for a little while, though. Anyway, we’d better get going.”
With a final glance, Twilight and Spike walked away to stand with the parents. The girls looked at each other, nodded, then turned and entered the team area.
“So,” said Lulamoon as she looked around, “know anyone here, Starlight?”
“Why would you think I’d know anyone?”
“I don’t know,” Lula replied. “You live here. You’re more likely to know the local kids than me. Aside from those two idiot colts that always follow me around.”
“Yeah, well, believe it or not, I don’t normally socialize with school kids.” As Starlight looked around, her stomach began to knot. There seemed to be children everywhere, shouting, laughing, a few crying. They all belonged here. They all had a place. All except her.
And why would she have a place, a voice whispered inside her brain. She would always be the new kid, forever the outsider. Why would they ever accept a freak like her? No one ever had, not even her own—
Starlight pushed the thought away, stuffing it deep back down inside her. Deep in the past, where the monsters were all locked away. You’re wrong, she thought. I have Twilight and Lulamoon and Spike. They accept me, they care about me. But even as she desperately fought to hold the monsters at bay, a familiar sensation began to take hold.
Stories will sometimes talk about going numb with fear. What most ponies lucky enough to never experience it don’t realize is how accurate a description it is. Panic isn’t simply a state of mind. It is a raw, visceral, physical sickness. She felt her heart racing, her breathing growing shallow and quick, and a dull tingling in her chest that began to spread. She felt like she was going to die.
“This was a mistake,” she said as she felt the attack take control. “This is crazy. I don’t belong here! I should go. I think… I think…!”
And then suddenly she saw them. Two young earth pony fillies, one pink with a round, friendly face, the other white with a fluorescent-striped mane. Starlight froze, then shook her head as if to clear her eyes. The panic began to subside, replaced by a sudden feeling of relief. Could anypony possibly be as lucky as she was at that moment?
“Those two girls over there...” Starlight turned to her friend. “I think I know them.”
In retrospect, publishing the journal hadn’t been a good idea.
Twilight Sparkle’s friendship journal had begun its life as an assortment of diary entries written by she and her friends. There was no overall plot or structure, just a series of episodic observations about lessons learned in the course of their various adventures together. Twilight had been inspired to start writing it after having discovered the childhood journal of her mentor Princess Celestia. In a way, it was a continuation of the letters she used to send her teacher weekly, after she’d been formally tasked with moving to Ponyville to learn the ins and outs of relationships with others.
The journal gradually seemed less and less important, and had nearly been destroyed in her battle with the centaur Tirek when he’d blasted Golden Oak library. Twilight had rescued it from the wreckage — singed and battered, but still intact — shelved it in the library of her new castle, and then promptly forgot about it for almost a year. Upon its rediscovery, she’d decided that what she and her friends had learned might be useful to others, and so naively published it.
It was an instant sensation, partly out of genuine interest in her experiences, but mostly out of base curiosity over Equestria’s newest and most accessible princess. Royalty did not normally write advice books, let alone ones that offered such an intimate look at their personal lives. Sales went through the roof, and Twilight was able to make a generous charitable donation with her share of the profits. It seemed that their lessons about the importance of friendship had reached a far larger audience than she’d ever hoped possible.
And then it all went horribly, horribly wrong.
True, Twilight and the others did receive letters from readers sharing what the book had meant to them, but it soon became apparent that an actual fandom had grown up around it. And rather than simply taking their entries at face value, the fans began treating it as if it were mere entertainment. Lines were drawn, sides were taken, and discussions blazed into shouting matches over who was “best pony” and how unsatisfying some found the “story.” Ponyville became almost unlivable for weeks as crowds of tourists descended upon it to meet “the characters” and demand answers to the most picayune questions.
Twilight had tried to explain things to them, had even sung a song to them on the spot, but it didn’t matter. In the end, she and the others had to simply wait it out until things gradually quieted down. Fans grew bored, found new targets for their outrage, and life regained a semblance of normalcy. There were still some of them keeping the flame alive, gathered together in so-called “amateur pony press associations” to write articles of dubious logic and original stories of even more dubious literary value. Twilight once anonymously ordered one of these APPAs to see what sort of things they were writing, and sat down to read it. She awoke an hour later at her desk, the newsletter burned to ashes and a note in her own writing imploring her to never try undoing the amnesia spell she’d cast upon herself.
No, in retrospect, publishing the journal hadn’t been a good idea. And the whole thing started because Twilight walked into the middle of an argument between two young school fillies…
“I thought you just said you don’t socialize with school kids,” said Lulamoon as she and Starlight approached the two young ponies.
“They’re an exception,” Starlight explained. “We have a little history.”
The fillies in question were gossipping and giggling together at the center of the Cherry Team waiting area. They noticed the two new girls approaching and paused to have a look. The pink one waved them over, greeting them as they arrived.
“Hi there,” she said, her round face breaking into an easy smile. “Are you on our team, too?” The pink earth pony had eyes of light opal and a mane she wore neck length, striped in rose, amber and scarlet, cut in bangs in front. She had a cutie mark on her flank of a paintbrush drawing a spiral, but her most remarkable feature was her tail. The mane and tail colors of most ponies tend to match exactly, but hers were wildly different, showing broad stripes of indigo and opal to match her eyes. She looked as though some artist had dipped each end of her in a different jar of paint when she was born.
“I don’t think we’ve ever seen you girls around,” added her companion. The other earth pony had a pearly-white coat, amber eyes, and a mane striped with pink and shades of green. She wore her hair a bit longer and more stylishly wavy than her friend’s, her mane and tail tied with elastics. On the scale of cute to pretty, she fell further toward the pretty end than did the pink one. “Did you just move here?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” Starlight replied. “Toola Roola, right?” she asked, looking at the pink one. “And you’re Coconut Cream,” she said to the other. “Do you both remember a few moons back, when everyone was reading Princess Twilight’s journal?”
“You mean when everyone in town started acting like big jerks?” Toola answered with a roll of her eyes. “Yeah, we remember. Poor Princess Twilight.”
“Well, do you remember going to her castle to talk to her?” Starlight continued.
“Do we?” Coconut replied, excitement in her voice. “We’ll never forget it! Her student Starlight Glimmer took us there to tell her how much her book meant to us. She looked so happy when we did, and then Starlight hugged us, and then…” Coconut trailed off, staring at Starlight. First her face, then at her cutie mark. Toola Roola looked confused, then Coconut quickly whispered something into her friend’s ear. The two fell into an urgent, secretive conversation, marked by Coconut pointing at Starlight’s flank.
Here it comes, Starlight thought. Now to see how they react.
Toola stared hard at Starlight’s face before finally asking what was obviously on her mind. “Starlight Glimmer? Is that you?”
Starlight smiled awkwardly as she waved a foreleg at them. “Hi,” she said with a nervous laugh.
The two earth pony fillies looked at each other for a moment, unsure of what to make of the newcomers. “Why are you a little kid?” Coconut finally asked.
Funny story, Starlight thought. I grew up convinced everyone hated me and was never able to make any friends, except for one. Then he got his cutie mark and left me for magic school, and I didn’t hear from him again, so I got bitter and blamed getting cutie marks on my problems, and so I grew up and started a village where I took everyone’s cutie marks away to make them all equal, except nopony was really happy and then Twilight and her friends came to stop me, so I decided to punish her by going back in time to keep her from ever meeting her friends, except she and her friends save Equestria practically every other week, so I ended up destroying everything in, like, ten different ways until Twilight finally talked me down, and brought me home to live with her, and I’ve learned a lot and done a lot, but still have lots of unresolved issues with making friends with others, so here I am pretending to be a little kid again so I can try and work out my problems from childhood. But enough about me, what’s fourth grade like?
Starlight thought it over and decided that, no, that probably wasn’t the best explanation to give a couple of nine-year-olds. As she stood there, trying to figure out how to answer Coconut’s question without scaring the two girls to death, Lulamoon suddenly piped up.
“A friendship lesson!” she blurted out. She stepped forward as the two other girls turned to look at the little blue unicorn accompanying this adult in child’s clothing. “You know Princess Twilight and her crazy friendship lessons,” she laughed. “Making friends with monsters, turning into little kids for the weekend…” Lula stopped and extended a foreleg. “Hi, I’m Lulamoon, Starlight’s best friend and number one wing pony! Call me Lula!”
Toola and Coconut looked at each other before Toola extended her own foreleg to shake Lula’s hoof. “Are you that magician who camps out on the edge of town?” she asked hesitantly.
“On most days of the week, yes!” Lula replied, her natural bravado at full force. “Do you like my shows?”
“I like the trick where you fly out of the cannon into the manticore’s mouth,” Coconut said. “And I like your fireworks. They’re really loud!”
“I thought your name was Trixie,” Toola Roola said as she released Lula’s hoof. “Why are you Lula now?”
Lulamoon considered her answer. “So I could rhyme with your name, obviously,” she replied, hoping her joke didn’t sound as lame to them as it did to her the instant it left her lips.
The two young earth ponies were silent a moment, then began to laugh. Starlight breathed a sigh of relief, joining in the laughter as she silently thanked Lula for getting her through the crisis. The worst part of being a new kid was past them: they weren’t strangers anymore.
“So, you’re both going to be on our team?” asked Toola Roola. “That’s great!”
“Yeah,” Coconut added. “We’ll be sure to win now!”
“Why would you think that?” Starlight asked, tilting her head curiously.
“Well…” Toola lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re grown ups! And you’re Princess Twilight’s student! You must know all sorts of things!”
“Yeah, I do,” said Starlight, growing nervous again. “But I don’t think any of them will let me run faster or jump higher.” She nodded her head toward Lulamoon. “The two of us are just here to play games and make friends, that’s all. We’re just a couple of regular kids today, like you two.”
“Oh.” Toola sounded disappointed, then perked up. “Well, I’m glad we can be friends. We’ll have lots of fun today!”
“Yeah, there’s going to be all sorts of games. And you can meet the other kids, too!” Coconut exclaimed.
“Well, why don’t you two introduce us?” Lulamoon suggested. “Who else is on this team?”
The two fillies looked at each other and giggled. “One of them’s standing right next to you, Lula,” Coconut laughed.
“They are?” Lulamoon glancing up to her side. “Where are they?”
“Right here, Miss,” piped up an oddly-accented voice from just below her eye-level.
Lulamoon looked down at her side, wondering where the voice had come from, then suddenly stepped back in shock. “Whoa!” she blurted out.
Standing beside her was the smallest earth pony colt she’d ever seen outside of a baby carriage. He had pinto pony markings of white and brown, with a dark spot over one eye like half a bandit-mask and a thick thatch of brown hair to match his brown eyes. He looked up at Lulamoon with an impish grin. “Hope I didn’t scare you, Miss.”
As Lula regained her composure, Starlight stepped forward to greet their diminutive companion. “Hi there,” she began. “I can’t help but notice your accent. Are you from Trottingham?”
“Well spotted, Miss. Yes, I am!” the colt replied proudly with a smile. “My mum and dad and me came here from the island a while back.”
“How old are you?” Lula asked, finally finding her voice again. “Should you be playing with kids our age?”
“I’ll be 10 next month,” the colt replied, his smile never wavering.
“You’re our age?” Lula said, almost to herself.
“Something wrong, Miss?”
“It’s just…” Lula struggled to find the right words. “I’ve never met anyone who was smaller than I was— Am! Than I am.”
“Well, I’ll try not to hold it against you,” the colt replied. “And I quite fancy tall girls, anyway.”
“Tall girls…” Lulamoon repeated the words to herself, a smile coming to her lips. “What’s your name, kid?” she asked.
“Pipsqueak,” the colt replied. “Pip to my friends, and I’d very much like if you both called me that.”
Lulamoon glanced at Starlight. “This is Starlight. I’m Lulamoon. We’d be happy to call you Pip.”
“A pleasure!” Pip held out a forehoof, which Starlight and then Lulamoon both shook. Starlight couldn’t help but notice the glint of happiness in her companion’s eye. She wouldn’t be the smallest kid on the team. And like Lula, Starlight also couldn’t help but be won over by the tiny colt’s charm.
“Anyway,” Starlight said as she turned back to Toola Roola. “Do you know what sort of stuff we’ll be doing today? Lula and I didn’t really have much time to find out about that.”
“Oh, all sorts of things!” Toola replied, her excitement obvious. “We play a lot of these games in school, so they’re easy. Like, we’re having a group jump rope battle!”
“You mean where you’ve got whole teams of kids jumping rope and the first one who gets tripped up is out?”
“Right!” Toola looked a little worried. “Except most of the time, the teams I’m on get tripped up first. I hope we can all jump high.” She glanced over at Pip and Lulamoon, who were chatting with Coconut.
“Well, Lula can jump as high as I can,” Starlight confided. “That, I can promise you. Anyway, you just have to be careful how you line your team up.”
Toola cocked her head to one side. “Line them up how?” she asked.
“You know, weak jumpers in the middle and the strong ones one the ends,” Starlight replied. Seeing Toola’s confusion, she scratched a diagram in the dust at their feet with her hoof. “Look, a jump rope’s lowest in the middle and curves up at the ends, where it’s held, right?” she explained. “So, you just figure out who your best jumpers are and put them at the end, where it counts. The weak jumpers stay in the middle, where the rope’s practically touching the ground.”
A look of comprehension dawned on Toola Roola’s face as she saw what Starlight was getting at. “That’s a great idea!” she exclaimed. “No kid I know ever thought of it like that. We all just lined up and jumped as high as we could. You must have been really good at this when you played with your friends back home.”
“Um…” Starlight stammered. “I didn’t play much with other kids where I came from. But I would watch them all doing it from the side, so I figured it out.”
“Oh,” Toola replied quietly. She looked at Starlight carefully, finally understanding why she was there. Then she smiled and poked her playfully in the shoulder. “Well, you’ll be playing with a lot of kids today, okay?”
Starlight chuckled and nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “I’d really like that.” She looked around. “There’s supposed to be nine of us, right? Where are the others?”
Toola looked around, and then pointed to the sky. Three small winged shapes were flapping their way. “I think the pegasus kids are all coming together,” she said. She began waving to them as they dove down and alighted at the edge of the waiting area. “Cotton! Chip! Rumble! Come meet the new girls!”
Two colts and a little filly scampered over as Lula and the other two earth ponies rejoined them. Toola Roola waved a foreleg at the unicorns. “This is Starlight Glimmer and her friend Lulamoon. They’re going to be on our team today.”
The pegasi peered at them curiously until the little white filly with the light blue mane stepped forward and pointed at Starlight. “That’s not Starlight Glimmer,” she said with absolute assurance.
“I’m not?” She’d gone into this half-expecting to need some sort of cover story for herself and Lula, but being called a liar by some little filly? Part of her just wanted to yell “Am, too!” and stick out her tongue.
“No,” the little girl replied. “I know all about Starlight Glimmer, and I know that she’s a grown up, not a little kid.” She nodded her head with the knowing air of an expert.
“Oh, you know all about Starlight Glimmer?” asked Lulamoon, giving a playful wink to Starlight and the others before turning back to the little pegasus. “And why is that?”
“Because, she’s Princess Twilight’s student, and I know everything about Princess Twilight,” she replied.
“And why do you know all about the princess?” Starlight asked, now genuinely curious.
“Because,” the filly said confidently as she paused to open her saddlebag and withdraw a book with one wing, “I’m in the Princess Twilight fan club, and I know everything from the book!”
“And what book would that be?” Lulamoon asked.
“The book! The source book!” the little filly replied with breathless wonder. “The book of everything known about Princess Twilight and her friends.” She held it up, her eyes shining. “The Twipedia,” she said, a note of awe in her voice.
“The ‘Twipedia’?” Starlight repeated, looking at the others. Lulamoon was struggling to contain her laughter while Toola and Coconut exchanged a worried glance. Toola then leaned over to whisper in Starlight’s ear.
“Careful,” she said. “Cotton will go on for hours if you get her started.”
Starlight nodded, smiling. This might actually simplify things. “So, why don’t you tell me about Starlight Glimmer?” she said. “You can tell me why I’m not her.”
“Oh, that’s easy!” the little white pegasus exclaimed as she opened the book and flipped through it. She began to read:
“Starlight Glimmer is Princess Twilight’s first and, thus far, only student. Not much is known about her past, except that she did something bad in a village somewhere, but Princess Twilight forgave her and taught her the magic of friendship. She now lives with the princess and helped to save Equestria from the changelings.”
If that’s all the fan club knows about me, maybe my reputation isn’t so bad, Starlight thought. “Does it say what Starlight looks like?” she asked.
“Of course it does,” the filly replied, rolling her eyes. She continued to read. “Starlight Glimmer is a unicorn with a pinkish-purple coat.” She looked up at Starlight. “Kind of like yours, and she has a dark purple mane with light purple and teal stripes, like yours. And she has a cutie mark that looks like a magical shimmer next to a double starburst, like yours, and…”
The little filly trailed off, glancing from her book to Starlight’s cutie mark and back again, then slowly looked at Starlight’s face, her eyes wide.
“Does it really not say what I did in that village?” Starlight asked. “Because I’ve been walking around assuming that everypony knew at this point.”
“You’re Starlight Glimmer,” the pegasus said, entranced.
“I am.”
“And you’re little,” she continued.
“For today, at least,” Starlight replied with a smile.
“Is this, like, a secret friendship mission?” the pegasus whispered, glancing around. “Is there a friendship problem you need to solve?”
Starlight leaned in and motioned her to come closer. The pegasus nervously approached as Starlight whispered in her ear. “Yes, and the problem’s with me. I came here with my friend to play games and make friends with you all today.”
“Your friend?” She looked over toward Lulamoon. “Is that the Great and Powerful Trixie?”
“Today she’s just Lulamoon,” Starlight replied. “So, you want to help solve my friendship problem?”
The pegasus nodded her head furiously, a squeal of excitement escaping her lips as she did. Starlight extended her foreleg. “Starlight Glimmer, as seen in the book,” she laughed. “And you are…?”
“Cotton!” the little pegasus replied, shaking her hoof furiously. “Cotton Cloudy! This is so great! I’m on a friendship mission!” She suddenly turned to Toola and the other earth ponies. “She’s on a friendship mission!” she squealed.
“We know,” Coconut replied. “And we didn’t need the book to figure out who she was, either.”
As Cotton blushed, Toola Roola indicated the two colts who’d arrived with her. “Starlight, Lulamoon, these are Chip and Rumble. Guys, were you paying attention just now, or do we have to explain who they are to you, too?”
“Well, I heard,” the gray pegasus with the lighter gray mane replied. “But I don’t really understand. You’re a grown up?”
“Both of us are, usually,” said Lulamoon, offering a hoof. “Today we’re kids. I’m Lula. What’s your name?”
“Chip,” the gray colt replied. “Glad to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Lula said and then turned to his companion. “I guess that makes you Rumble?”
“Yeah…” the other colt replied suspiciously. His coat was a lighter gray than his friend’s, his mane darker, his attitude not nearly as friendly. He eyed Lula and Starlight warily. “What are you two really doing here?”
“What do you mean?” Lula asked. “We’re just doing what we said we’re doing. It’s a friendship lesson for Starlight.”
“And you turned into little kids to play games? That’s your mission?”
Starlight began to answer, but Lula shushed her and motioned for Rumble to follow her. They walked off a few paces, then Lulamoon waved him closer. He dubiously approached.
“Between you and me, I thought this was a silly idea, too,” she whispered. “But Princess Twilight and Starlight can get some weird ideas sometimes, and I got roped into it. So, do me a favor and just go along with it, okay? If you do, I’ll give you free tickets to one of my shows.”
Rumble stared at her. “And who are you?” he asked, looking completely baffled.
Lula’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I’m… I’m Trixie,” she said. Rumble simply shrugged, his face still a mask of bewilderment. “The magician who camps out on the edge of town?” she pressed hopefully.
Still nothing.
Lula sighed. “I’m her best friend and just want to get through this day without any disasters, okay? Please, just play along?”
Rumble rolled his eyes and groaned. “Fine!” he said, fed up with the whole thing. “Do whatever you want, just don’t mess it up for the rest of us!” He trotted back to Chip’s side, muttering about crazy unicorn grown ups butting in on kid’s games. Lulamoon returned to the others, looking shaken. She motioned to Cotton and the two moved away from the others.
“Does your book have anything on the Great and Powerful Trixie?” she asked.
“I think so,” Cotton replied, flipping pages as she searched. “Ah, ha! There it is!”
“Read it. I want to hear what you all think of me.”
“All right.” Cotton cleared her throat. “The Great and Powerful Trixie: Pest.” She paused and then looked at Lula. “That’s it.”
“But I helped save Equestria! I’m a hero!” Lula protested.
“Oh!” Cotton smacked herself in the forehead with one hoof while holding the book with her wings. “This is the old entry! I didn’t check the updated section!” She began flipping pages to the back of the book.
“The book gets updates?” Lulamoon asked, trying to read some of it as the pages turned.
“Yeah,” Cotton replied. “Everypony in the club sends in stuff as we learn it. It all gets added eventually. Your main entry just didn’t get updated yet.” She finally spotted the page she sought. “There we go! Here’s your latest entry.” She paused nervously, looked at Lulamoon, and then gulped.
“Well? What’s it say?” Lula demanded.
Cotton took a deep breath.
“Former pest.” There was a long silence, as Lula waited for more. “That’s it.” Cotton bit her lower lip nervously. “Sorry.”
Lulamoon opened her mouth, as though ready to begin a long and loud protest, then closed it as she sighed. “It’s all right. It’s not your fault,” she said quietly. “I just thought I rated something more than ‘former pest.’ I shouldn’t be surprised.”
She walked slowly back toward Starlight and Toola Roola, looking dejected.
“What’s with you?” Starlight asked.
“Apparently the Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t rate more than two words in the Twipedia.”
“Oh, come on!” Starlight replied, poking her shoulder. “You didn’t even know that thing existed till about 10 minutes ago. Who cares?”
Lulamoon replied with sad, puppy dog eyes.
Starlight sighed. “Okay, I guess you care. So, maybe we can do something today that’ll get both our entries updated. Cheer up!”
Lulamoon smiled wanly. “I suppose I’m being silly,” she said. “There are much worse things than not being mentioned in a book.”
“Exactly!” Starlight laughed.
“I mean, we lucked out with the kids on this team. There were a couple I was really scared we’d be stuck with,” Lula continued, her good cheer returning. “If either one of them showed up here, I think I might have run screaming back to the castle.”
“Hello, ladies!” came a scratchy voice from behind her.
Lulamoon froze as her right ear began to twitch. Starlight and the other fillies turned to see who had joined them, but Lulamoon already knew. With a keening whimper she slowly took cover behind Starlight.
“What’s with you?” Starlight asked, confused.
“It’s them,” Lula hissed, trying to somehow make herself even smaller.
“Them?”
“Them!” Lulamoon replied, as she peered out from behind Starlight to behold her nightmare.
As a rule, unicorns tend to be among the handsomest of ponies. A bit more graceful than earth ponies, a bit more refined than pegasi. There are, of course, exceptions to the rule, and two of them had just trotted into Cherry Team’s area. Snipsy Snap, known to one and all as Snips, was short, bucktoothed, and chubby, with a mane full of unruly brown hair and a mind full of unruly thoughts. He was only a little taller than Lulamoon, making him the second shortest colt in school after Pip. Unlike his classmate, Snips lacked any degree of charm. He was a hyperactive goofball, whose cutie mark was a pair of scissors. He claimed that it marked his special talent as being good at cutting almost anything, although he seemed to concentrate more on being a cut-up in class.
And next to him stood his partner in pranks, Snailsquirm, more commonly known by his nickname Snails. Snips and Snails were a comically mismatched duo. Where Snips was short and chubby, Snails was tall and gangly. Where Snips was excitable and prone to rush into trouble, Snails was laid back, his mind seemingly on another planet at times. Even their colors seemed to be reversals of each other. Where Snips had a bluish-green coat and brown mane, Snails had a blue-green mane and golden-brown coat. Snails had a snail for a cutie mark, although no one really seemed to know what sort of talent that implied beyond his general slowness.
The two colts had been nothing but trouble for Trixie when she’d first come to Ponyville years earlier. Thanks to their having led a baby ursa into town for her to battle, she’d ended up publically humiliated and unable to put on any shows for nearly a year. If any one thing had been the cause of the enmity she’d formed for Twilight Sparkle, it’d been that asinine prank that these two had perpetrated.
They were the last kids Lulamoon wanted to see at that moment. Not because she was afraid of them pestering her, but because she was now smaller than them. When she’d returned for her magic duel with Twilight, Trixie had taken special sadistic pleasure in bedeviling Snips and Snails, culminating with her having turned them into babies. She could only imagine the sort of revenge they’d exact once they figured out who she was.
“Hi, guys,” said Toola, before a look of puzzlement fell over her face. “Wait, there’s already eight of us. You both can’t be on this team.”
“We aren’t,” Snails replied, blinking his heavy-lidded eyes. “Just me. Miss Cheerilee says we both shouldn’t be on the same team. Yah.”
“It’s not fair!” Snips whined. “They shouldn’t split us up! We’re insep… Um, insep…” He paused, trying to remember the rest of the word.
“Inseparable?” Starlight suggested.
“Yeah, that! Un-split-up-able!” Snips declared, further plumbing the depths of malapropism.
“Yah, un-split-up-able,” Snails agreed, nodding. He blinked again, seeming to notice the unfamiliar fillies standing with Toola and Coconut for the first time. “Um, do we know you? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” He peered around Starlight, catching a glimpse of Lula, who retreated back behind cover with a tiny shriek.
“They’re kind of new,” Toola said as she waved a hoof toward Starlight. “Snips, Snails, this is Starlight, and behind her is—”
“Lulamoon!” Lula said, suddenly jumping out and extending her hoof to shake. “I’m Lulamoon, and we’ve never, ever met before! So pleased to meet you for the first time, ever!”
Snails reflexively extended his own hoof, and Lula began shaking it heartily as Snips studied her face. “Are you sure we’ve never met?” he asked, squinting one eye as he stared at her intently. “Because you look awfully familiar.”
“Positive! Never seen you before in my life!” Lula replied, releasing Snails’ hoof as a bead of nervous sweat began to form on her forehead.
“Really?” Snails said as he looked her over. “Because you look a lot like the Great and Powerful Trixie.”
“The who now?” Lula replied, smiling nervously as she wiped her forehead. “No, no, you must be mistaken. I’m a new little filly, just here to make friends!”
“Yeah…” Snips continued, peering closer. “You’ve got the same blue coat as Trixie.”
“Blue? Well, I’ve always thought of it more as an azure, myself…”
“Yah, and she’s got the same white mane with the the little blue streaks in it, just like Trixie,” Snails added. “And it’s brushed just like Trixie brushes hers.”
“Oh, well, this is a very common hairstyle,” Lula stammered, terror now plain on her face.
“And your cutie mark looks just like Trixie’s,” Snips said, eyeing her flank. He nodded his head sagely. “You can’t fool us. We know who you are!”
“Now, boys,” Lula began nervously. “I know mistakes were made, but…”
“You’re Trixie’s twin sister!” Snips declared.
“...we just need to move past that, and—Wait, what?” Lulamoon stood dumbfounded for a moment. “No, but that’s… I’m not her twin sister.”
“You look just like Trixie,” said Snips.
“Yes, true,” Lula replied nervously.
“And you have the same cutie mark as Trixie,” said Snails.
“Also true.”
“So, you must be her twin sister!” concluded Snips, pleased with his logical prowess.
“But, that’s not how twins work…” Lulamoon trailed off as she wondered why she was even arguing the point. “You know what? Yes. You are absolutely right! I am Trixie’s identical twin sister who is fifteen years younger than her, for some reason!” She raised a hoof and side-punched the air. “Boy, oh, boy. I couldn’t fool you two.”
“Well, we won’t hold it against you,” Snips replied. “You look like you’re a lot nicer than she is.”
“Yah, and prettier, too.” Snails’ cheeks reddened as he turned shyly away.
“Anyway, I’ve gotta get over to my team,” said Snips. He stopped, then turned to Snails. “Which team am I on again?”
“I’ll show you,” Snails replied. He glanced again at Lulamoon, blushed, then the two trotted away toward the Peach Team area. In their wake stood Starlight, Toola, and Coconut, mouths agape.
“Those two are…” Starlight trailed off, unsure of how to even describe what she’d just witnessed.
“...really dumb,” Coconut whispered.
“Yeah,” said Toola Roola, nodding her head.
The three girls turned to look at Lulamoon, who stood petrified with horror.
“Did he just say I was pretty and then blush?” she whispered.
The three other girls nodded their heads silently.
“Oh, no…” she moaned. Starlight could only pat her shoulder in sympathy.
“Um, Lulamoon?”
Lula turned to see Cotton, her copy of the Twipedia out and a pencil already in her mouth.
“Should I update your entry to say that Snails is your boyfriend now?”
With a long groan, Lula sank to the ground, hugging her forelegs over her head, as though waiting for the sky to fall onto her, as well. Cotton looked at her, then to Starlight.
“Is this a bad time?”
“Maybe save the updates for later, Cotton,” Starlight replied as she sat down on her haunches in front of her despondent friend. “C’mon, Lula. It doesn’t mean anything. Tomorrow, you’ll be a grown up again.”
“Why him?” Lula moaned, peeking out from under her forelegs. “Why does the first boy in ages to show any interest in me have to be Snails?”
“Maybe he thinks short girls are really cute,” Coconut suggested.
“Well…” Starlight stroked her chin with a hoof as she considered the problem. “Maybe we can tell him you’ve got cooties or something.”
“Oh, come on!” Toola protested. “We’re not babies!”
“And Snails is older than us,” Cotton added.
“That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t fall for it,” mused Coconut. “He is really dumb.”
“It wouldn’t work anyway. He’d still be in love with me,” Lula grumbled.
“Why not?” Starlight asked.
“Because I’m adorable!” Lula wailed, retreating back under her forelegs.
Starlight and the others looked at each other and then began to laugh as they helped Lulamoon to her feet. While they did, Toola noticed Snails returning from his escort of Snips to Peach Team and poked Starlight to get her attention. Starlight motioned to Lula and the other girls to come closer.
“I think I’ve got a plan,” she said softly. “Is there something really interesting you all could be doing for the next few minutes?”
Toola thought for a moment, then her face lit up. “Would you like to see my sketchbook? It’s right over there,” she said, pointing to a saddlebag lying on the ground nearby.
“You definitely want to see her drawings,” Coconut said, nodding. “They’re great.”
“I would love to see your sketchbook. Right now!” Lulamoon replied as she nervously watched Snails approaching.
As the others made a hasty exit, Starlight squared her shoulders, preparing to meet the lovestruck colt. There he was, gazing dreamily at Lulamoon. Or, possibly, he was half-asleep. It was a little hard to tell with this kid, Starlight thought. His eyes seemed to be only half-open most of the time. If this were a comic strip, Starlight thought, he’d probably have little hearts floating around his head. As he trotted toward Lula and the others, Starlight prepared to make her move, then noticed Cotton still standing shyly to her side.
“Is this part of your mission?” she asked, tail tipping excitedly. “Do you need backup?”
“Thanks, but I think I can handle one Snails on my own,” Starlight chuckled. “Why don’t you go look at the sketches with the others?”
“Okay...” Cotton’s ears flattened as she moped away, crestfallen.
Starlight trotted forward, intercepting the young unicorn before he could close in on the others. With the brightest smile she could muster, she extended a hoof to him.
“Hi there!” she said brightly, hoping she sounded sincere. “I didn’t really get a chance to say hello before. I’m Starlight!”
“Yah, hi…” Snails replied, peering around her for a clear path toward Lula and the others as he shook her foreleg. “Sorry, but could you maybe—”
“I see Pip isn’t the only boy on this team with an accent,” Starlight continued, cutting him off. “What are the odds? Let me guess… Whinnipeg?”
Snails turned his gaze fully onto Starlight, his eyes opening all the way for the first time. It was probably the closest he came to looking surprised, she thought.
“Yah, that’s where my family’s from,” he said as he released her hoof. “Well, near there, anyways. How did you know?”
“Vanhoover,” Starlight replied, tapping her chest. “Or, Sire's Hollow, anyway. Close enough.”
A smile spread across Snails’ face. “Well, all right!” he nodded. “Northern girl! Nice to have someone else from back home.”
“So, have you been down here long?” Starlight pressed, maneuvering herself to turn Snails’ gaze from Lula and the others.
“Oh, yah,” Snails nodded. “We came here back when I was still in kindergarten. That’s where I met Snips.”
“That’s your friend?” Starlight asked. “Wow, you’ve known each other a long time, then, huh?”
“Yah, he’s my buddy. We do everything together.” Snails paused a moment, then blinked slowly. “Except this, I guess. How long have you been down south?”
“A couple of years,” Starlight replied. “Just not here in Ponyville.” Her mind raced, trying to think of anything to keep him distracted. “Do you ever get back up there to visit?”
“Yah, every year, to visit my gram,” he nodded. “You?”
“No, not for a long time.” There was a note of genuine wistfulness in her voice. “You know what I miss the most from back home? Donuts from Horsetons.”
Snails reflexively licked his lips. “Horsetons! I love Horsetons! What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Honey crullers!” she replied, without a moment’s hesitation. I’m really enjoying this, she thought. It’s been ages since I’ve talked to anyone from back home like this. Even the few times she’d seen Sunburst recently, they never seemed to just talk about ordinary things from back home.
Snails closed his eyes, his smile returning as he imagined eating the sugary delight. “Oh, yah… Honey crullers. Those are so good. They’re so light.” He opened his eyes. “My gram sends us down a box of Horsetons every couple of moons.”
“You’re lucky!” Donuts from Horsetons were practically their own food group up north, and it’d been a long time since she’d last had one.
“Hey, next time she sends us one, I’ll come find you,” Snails said. “I’ll save a honey cruller, just for you.”
“That’s really sweet. Thanks.” Starlight looked the gangly colt up and down. He was actually very nice, she thought. Maybe Lula wasn’t being fair. Starlight shook her head. No, she still had a job to do, despite his show of hospitality.
Snails glanced over at the Lula and the others, who seemed to be laughing at some drawing in Toola Roola’s sketchbook. Starlight’s eyes followed his gaze.
“You’re friends with the other girl, aren’t you?” He turned to face Starlight, and she nodded. He looked back at the others. “Do you think she likes me?”
Starlight gulped. He’s just a kid, she thought. A kid with a crush. Treat him gently, Starlight. What’s the nicest way to warn him off? She quickly considered the problem. What would get a young boy to leave a girl he liked alone?
Something nagged at the back of her mind. Something Cotton had said only a few minutes before.
“Snails is older than us.”
Starlight’s eyes widened as she realized what she needed to do. This was going to be easier than she’d thought.
“I think you made her a little nervous before,” Starlight replied. “You’re the first boy in town who’s ever said she was pretty.” Which was true, Starlight thought to herself. Trixie’s romantic life was about as great and powerful as her common sense. “How old are you, Snails?”
“I turned eleven only a couple moons ago,” he answered proudly.
“Oh…” Starlight nodded knowingly. “That’s the problem.” She turned and waved a hoof in Lula’s general direction. “We’re only nine. I think you might be a little too old for us.”
“Yah think?” He glanced over at the girls again. Lulamoon caught his gaze and immediately took cover behind Coconut Cream.
“Yeah,” Starlight sighed. “I don’t think she’s ready for such a mature boy to say stuff like that to her.” She motioned for Snails to come close, and she whispered in his ear. “I think she’s scared of you.”
His eyes widened in horror. “Oh, no!” He looked back at Lulamoon, who peeked out from behind Coconut and then retreated with a yelp when she saw him still looking at her. “I don’t want to scare her or anything.”
“Maybe keep your distance for now,” Starlight suggested. “Till she warms up to you.”
Snails held his gaze on the others for a moment longer, blinked slowly, then turned back to Starlight. After a long moment, he nodded his head.
“Yah,” he said. “I shouldn’t scare her, should I? Okay.”
“Thank you!” Starlight replied, her gratitude genuine. “I’ll go tell her.”
“Sure thing,” Snails nodded. “And don’t forget, I owe you a honey cruller sometime.”
Starlight nodded with a smile, then trotted over to the other girls. They were back to giggling at the sketches. Toola had a pencil in her mouth, and seemed to be drawing something that was sending the others into hysterics. As Starlight drew near, Lulamoon waved her closer as she nearly convulsed with laughter.
“Starlight, come see this! It’s amazing!” she gasped.
Starlight drew closer and then guffawed as she saw the picture. Toola Roola had drawn a quick cartoon showing Snails, Lula, and Starlight. The sketch was rushed and rough, but she’d captured them perfectly. There was Snails, his eyes replaced with hearts. Lulamoon was cowering behind Starlight, her face twisted in fear, while Starlight glanced back at her, a large question mark over her head.
“These are great!” Starlight exclaimed, turning to Toola. “Can I see some more?”
“Sure!” Toola replied, dropping the pencil back into her bag. Starlight’s horn glowed as she levitated the book and began turning the pages. There were sketches of all kinds filling them, from quick cartoons to intricate landscapes and still lifes.
“This is so much better than anything I could do,” Starlight murmured to herself. She closed the book and floated it back into the earth pony’s bag. “I wish I could draw like that.”
“Maybe I can teach you sometime,” Toola suggested. She paused and blushed. “As long as you’re little, like this. I’d be a little embarrassed teaching a grown up.”
“Well, maybe we’ll see,”Starlight replied. The thought of Toola coming over to visit and teach her how to draw felt appealing, somehow. Starlight brushed the thought aside. What they were doing today was therapeutic. Making herself like this just for fun, though… Would that be healthy?
“So, how did it go?” Lula asked, glancing over at Snails. He’d trotted over to talk to the other boys.
Starlight laid a sympathetic hoof upon her friend’s shoulder. “How do you feel about a late summer wedding?”
“What?!” Lula squeaked.
Starlight laughed. “Relax, he’ll leave you alone. I told him you were too young and innocent to have such a mature eleven-year-old for your boyfriend.”
Lulamoon’s mouth dropped open, then she shook her head in amazement. “You told him that he’s too old for me?!”
Starlight nodded. “Seemed like the easiest way out of it.” She glanced back at Snails and the others. “You know, he’s actually very nice.”
A bemused smile spread across Lula’s face. “Fine,” she said. “You’re welcome to him.”
Starlight whipped her gaze back to her friend and narrowed her eyes. “No, thank you,” she said, her tone deadly serious. She held the look for a few seconds before they both began to laugh. Starlight turned to Toola. “Well, that’s nine kids, so the team’s all here. Aren’t we supposed to have a coach, too?”
“Yeah,” Lula piped in. “Where’s our coach?”
“Right behind you,” drawled a familiar voice.
Starlight and the others turned, and she immediately took a step back in shock.
“Applejack?!” she blurted out.
“Hey, there, young‘uns,” the orange farmpony called out, trotting into the center of the waiting area. “Gather round, now. We got some business that needs tendin’ to afore these games can start.”
As the other children drew closer, Starlight’s mind raced. What was one of Twilight’s closest friends doing here? Why was she the coach? Did she know about her and Lulamoon. As if reading her mind, Applejack glanced over at Starlight.
“Hey there, little filly,” she said with a wink. “You look like a friend of mine.”
Well, Starlight thought, that answers that question.
Lulamoon sidled up next to her. “What’s Farmer Applesauce doing here?” she whispered.
Applejack’s ears twitched. Suddenly, she turned and strode over to Lulamoon, lowering her face to within inches of the tiny unicorn’s. “Farmer Applesauce has been lendin’ a hoof organizing this little shindig for the past couple of weeks,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “And Farmer Applesauce has better hearing than a bat in an echo chamber. So, be nice, afore I swat your backside.” The two glared at each other in silence, until AJ snorted. “You are just a bitty little thing, ain’t you?” she said. “Like a little half-pint of vinegar!” She ruffled Lula’s mane with a laugh and walked back to the center of the gathering children.
Lulamoon huffed in indignation. “How dare she!” she sputtered. “How dare she… She…!”
“Treat you like a little kid?” Starlight asked. “I think we both have to put up with that today, Lula.”
“But…!” Lula trailed off, unable to muster any sort of counterargument. All she could do was pout, grumbling to herself how kids got no respect and how unfair it all was. Starlight turned her attention back toward the others.
“All right,” Applejack began, pushing her trademark stetson hat back higher on her head. “Now, y’all know who I am, and I take it y’all have had a chance to get to know each other.” The children looked around and nodded. Starlight couldn’t help but notice Rumble’s scowl when he looked at her and Lulamoon.
“I’m your coach,” Applejack continued. “My job’s to keep y’all in line and tell you what’s what. I can tell you where to go and what to do, and maybe even give some advice. But…” She paused and looked around at the nine foals that comprised Cherry Team. “I ain’t here to lead you. That’s the job for your captain, and choosin’ who that’s gonna be is your first activity for today. So, think hard afore you decide.”
A few of the children began whispering to each other, no doubt discussing which of them they’d name to the position. Starlight looked to her right and saw Toola, Coconut, and Cotton conferring with each other, while opposite them, the boys seemed to be having a heated argument. Lulamoon tapped her on the shoulder and whispered into her ear.
“Who do you think the captain should be?”
“I don’t know,” Starlight whispered back. “We don’t know anyone well enough to nominate. Let’s just see who the others pick and then go along with it.”
Lulamoon nodded, and the two of them waited for the caucusing to conclude. Eventually, Toola raised a hoof.
“Toola Roola?” Applejack called out. “Do you have a nomination?”
“Yes,” Toola replied. She glanced at Coconut and Cotton, who both nodded, before pointing at Starlight. “We think that Starlight Glimmer should be captain!”
The words seemed to hang there in the air, frozen in time. Starlight looked from one child to another, her mouth open in shock. This wasn’t part of the deal, she thought. She was here to play and make friends. It was all a game. There weren’t supposed to be any stakes. But now…
She looked helplessly at Applejack. Surely, she thought, AJ could see there was no way she could be their team captain. Surely she’d laugh and offer some sort of homespun, apple-themed wisdom why they should choose from one of the friends that they knew and not the imposter who’d only walked into their midst not even a half hour ago.
Instead, Applejack simply raised an eyebrow as she silently studied the girls’ faces. “Interesting choice,” she finally said, quietly. “Why her, Toola?”
Yeah, why me? Starlight wondered desperately. Because you know I’m a grown up and think that’ll help you win? Because I’m Twilight’s student and you think I have some sort of secret plan to dominate playground sports?
“Because she’s really smart and has good ideas,” Toola replied. “She told me before about how to win at the jump rope game, and I never would have thought of that by myself.” She looked over at Snails, who seemed to be daydreaming as he looked in Lulamoon’s direction. “And she can get you to do things without bossing you around or making you feel bad.” Toola Roola turned back to face Applejack. “That’s why we think she’d make a good captain.” Coconut and Cloudy both nodded.
Starlight felt a knot forming in her stomach. Those sounded like good reasons, but these girls didn’t really know her. To Toola and Coconut, she was the nice unicorn who’d brought them to see Princess Twilight that one time, and Cotton… Well, she was some starstruck little filly who probably just saw her as a ticket to a personal introduction to the princess, as well. Was that their plan? To pretend to like her, just so they could meet the pony they actually admired?
Were they going to turn on her, the way every child had when she was younger?
Starlight turned helplessly to Lulamoon, who had raised her hoof. A momentary hope flashed through her mind. Maybe her best friend would offer some clever way out.
“Somethin’ on your mind, Half-Pint?” Applejack asked.
Lulamoon puffed her cheeks in annoyance. “Yes,” she said, looking at Starlight. “I also think Starlight would make a good captain.”
Starlight smacked her forehead. Lula had been doing so well all morning, but now it felt like the Great and Powerful Trixie had made a sudden reappearance. “Excuse us a second!” she said as she took her friend’s tail in her mouth and dragged her a few paces away from the others.
“Stop that!” Trixie hissed. “I already had my tail yanked once this week! Don’t you start doing it, too!”
“Why would you agree with them?!” Starlight shot back. “I can’t captain this team!”
“And why can’t you?” the little blue unicorn retorted with a roll of her eyes. She gingerly rubbed the base of her tail, wondering how many hairs she’d lost this time.
“Because the last thing I need right now is that kind of responsibility!” Starlight looked back at the kids, who were all staring at them. Rumble’s scowl had only grown darker.
“Oh, please!” Lula scoffed. “You led me and a couple of other oddballs into a changeling hive and came out a hero. You can certainly lead a bunch of kids playing hopscotch or whatever.”
“Yeah, I led us in there and ended up having all of you getting captured while my great plan was to find the queen’s throne and hit it with a small rock. We only got out of that by pure luck!” Starlight paused and swallowed. “These kids don’t know who they’re dealing with.”
“Or maybe they do. Did you ever think of that?” Lula motioned her to walk back toward the others. “Come on. They’re waiting.” Her eyes narrowed. “And don’t pull my tail again!”
As they rejoined the group, Rumble raised a hoof.
Applejack nodded toward him. ‘Yes, Rumble? Do you have something to add?”
“Yeah.” The pegasus colt ruffled his wings in irritation as he pointed at Starlight. “She can’t be our captain!”
Finally! A voice of reason! Starlight thought.
“Oh? And why not?” Applejack replied.
“Because…” Rumble glared at Starlight. “Because she doesn’t belong here. Not really.” He pointed at Pip. “Pipsqueak should be captain. He’s our class president. We all know him.”
Rumble’s words hit Starlight like a kick to the stomach. He’s right, she thought. I don’t belong here. The others don’t see it, but he does.
Applejack nodded. “Pretty good reason. What do you think, Pip?”
The tiny colt seemed to study Starlight’s face, then turned to Rumble. “Here’s the thing, mate,” he said. “I appreciate it, but the truth is, I’m not that good at sport.” He turned to the other children. “You all know I can’t run as fast or jump as high as the rest of you, and I don’t have any really good ideas on how to play.” He pointed at Starlight. “I only met her a little while ago, but I like what I see. I say we give her a chance.”
Rumble scowled at Pipsqueak. “Well, then I’ll be captain!” he sputtered. He turned to the others. “Who’s with me?! Chip?”
Chip bit his lip nervously. “I don’t really care that much who’s captain,” he replied. “If most of us want Starlight, then I guess I’m okay with her, too.”
Rumble loosed an exasperated groan. “What about you, Snails?!” There was no answer, as Snails looked dreamily at Lulamoon. “Snails! Wake up!” Rumble snapped.
Snails blinked his eyes slowly. “I think Starlight should be captain.”
Rumble’s face reddened with anger. “Why?!”
Snails fixed Rumble with a placid gaze. “Because she was nicer to me than you’re being.” He then blushed a bit as he glanced shyly toward Lula. “And because Lulamoon wants her to be, too.”
“Well,” said Applejack, as Rumble muttered darkly to himself, “That’s seven to one. The only pony here we haven’t heard from yet is the nominee herself.” She turned toward Starlight. “What do you say? Will you do it?”
The others all looked at her, expectantly. What a wonderful situation, Starlight thought. So many ways she can disappoint them. She could say no, and reject the trust that Toola and the others had placed in her. She could say yes and then lead them to defeat. She could say no and then watch as someone else led them to defeat, where she might have helped. It’d end the same as it always had when she was this age: they would turn their backs on her.
The knot in her stomach grew tighter, and she felt the monsters at the bottom of her brain begin to stir. Why would they ever choose her for this, they whispered. Rumble was right. She didn’t belong there. There was something wrong with her. Why couldn’t they see that? Why couldn’t they just let her be a face in the crowd?
Starlight opened her mouth, but no words came. She looked from one child to the next, then helplessly at Applejack. Maybe it’s not too late to run home and hide in bed, she thought. Suddenly, Applejack smacked herself in the forehead.
“Hang on a sec afore you answer, Starlight,” she said. “Been so busy around here, I, uh…” She coughed nervously. “I, uh, might have forgotten to check some of the equipment. You mind lendin’ a hoof?”
Starlight shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Do we really need to do that right now?” she asked.
Applejack bobbed her head. “Eeyup, right now. C’mon, let’s go stretch our legs.” She motioned for her to come and began trotting toward the schoolhouse. Starlight looked around at the other children, then turned to follow.
“Wait!” Rumble yelled. “We haven’t settled this yet!”
“And we will. Just settle down a spell,” Applejack called back.
Starlight caught up and fell in at her side. They walked on in silence for a moment before Starlight looked up at her.
“You gonna start, or do we gotta talk about the weather first?” Applejack asked, her eyes still fixed ahead.
Starlight blushed. “How’d you get roped into this?”
Applejack snorted.“Ain’t nopony telling me to be here now.”
“Oh, come on!” Starlight exclaimed. “You’re coaching Cherry Team? Who’s taking care of Apple Team, then?”
“My big brother’s coaching Apple Team,” Applejack replied. She turned and looked down at Starlight. “And I’ve a history with cherries, believe it or not,” she said with a grin. “Best to ask Twilight about that. It’s one doozy of a yarn.”
“So, Twilight didn’t send you here to make sure I didn’t do anything bad?”
Applejack snorted and shook her head. “Sugarcube, believe it or not, we don’t stand around all day waiting for you to do something wrong.”
“Maybe you should,” Starlight mumbled, half to herself. “Then why are you here?”
“Because I was here yesterday, helping Cheerilee with some last minute things, when Twilight came barging in asking the strangest darn favor I ever heard.” Applejack nodded her head toward the schoolhouse. “Head around back with me.”
The two made a turn around the corner, where piles of game equipment stood ready. Applejack headed for a group of bushel baskets which were filled with what appeared to be bean bags, sitting on the ground next to wooden stands. She motioned for Starlight to stop, then turned to face her. The equipment yard was set a short distance away from the main field, and only a few workers were there with them. It was, Starlight realized, a good place for a little privacy.
"Don’t be offended or nothin’, but when Twilight came to me with this tale about you and Trixie lookin' to turn yourselves into fillies, well, I wasn't too keen on the idea. The notion of the thing, it didn't sit well with me. You understand?"
Starlight coughed up a small laugh. "Believe me, I don't blame you for a second."
Applejack's smile widened slightly, as though relieved to hear that. "I had to take Twilight aside, get her to start at the beginnin'. After realizing what this meant to you, why you were doin' this, well, I'd be a bad friend if I didn’t volunteer."
“To do what?”
Applejack chuckled softly. "Why, to lend a hoof in case things got hairy, of course. Like what happened with that little Rumble feller." She sighed. "Don't be gettin' defensive now, Starlight, but I'm here 'cause Twilight wanted me to watch your flank. I thought she was bein' a worrywart, mind you. Figured she meant in case you got in a scrap with one of the young’uns. But from what I just saw..." She shook her head. "Now I know why I'm here."
Starlight heaved a sigh. "To protect them from me?" She could hardly blame Twilight for worrying. Starlight could be an unpredictable mess at the best of times.
Applejack gently brought her hoof down with indignation. "Shoot, no! Twilight'd gone and asked me to protect you from them, and I think you can gather why yourself."
Starlight tilted her head. She and Applejack were friendly, but it was more a polite “friend of a friend” relationship than anything close. The truth was, Applejack and the others were like gifts that Twilight had given her when she’d taken Starlight on as her student. “Why would you care that much?”
"Shoot, I didn't give it much thought." Not until that moment, it seemed, as Applejack gazed out, her face shadowed by her stetson in the low morning sun. "Maybe it's cuz I know what it's like to be a sad little kid." A strange, fond smile crossed her lips. "Maybe I know what it's like to want a do-over, make peace with the past. I dunno. What I'm tryin' and failin' to say is... I get it."
Starlight knew immediately what she meant. The topic of Applejack’s missing parents was one that she’d learned about early on. Their absence was acknowledged by all, but never spoken of. It was as if everyone in town had agreed the subject was just too painful, and so everyone kept a respectful silence on the matter. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out what must have happened to them when she was still a child.
Starlight felt ashamed. The farmer was there as a friend because she recognized a sort of kinship between them, and Starlight’s first thought had been to suspect her of spying. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I’m glad you were here.”
“So,” Applejack said as she sat down on her haunches and motioned to Starlight to do the same. “Mind tellin’ me where that cat’s run off to?”
“Sorry, what?”
“The one who took your tongue,” she chuckled. “What’s got you so darn scared of bein’ captain? You’re a born leader, Starlight!”
“Because I came here to just play, not lead!” she snapped. “Because I don’t want that kind of pressure!”
“Now that’s just plum silly,” Applejack laughed. “Come on, now, you’ve led worse than this, and under worse circumstances to boot!”
“I don’t see why they have to pick me!” Starlight groused. “They don’t know anything about me! They’d never have chosen me if they knew about the stuff I’ve done!” She sighed and looked down at her feet. “What are they seeing that would make them trust someone they don’t know? I’m just going to end up disappointing them.”
Applejack chuckled. “They see your light, sugarcube. You might cover it up, or try and run from it, but folks still see it. They’ve seen it ever since you moved to town. I reckon those kids can see it even clearer than most.”
“Light? What light?”
Applejack was silent a moment. “Can I tell you a story?” She looked to see Starlight give a nod. “A few years back, Ponyville got the honor of hosting the annual Summer Sun Celebration. It’s a huge deal—Princess Celestia was gonna be here in the flesh, to see us. After a night of partyin’, she was to raise the first sunrise of summer in front o’ the whole darn town. We spent weeks getting ready, my family chief among them. We were in charge of supplying the vittles.”
Starlight blinked slowly. “What does any of this have to do with…?”
“Whoa there.” Applejack held up a hoof. “Lemme finish now. So anyways, the day of the celebration, we got us a visitor from Canterlot: a little purple unicorn, and her dragon assistant. She was sent by the princess herself to make sure everything was running ship-shape. ‘Cept I didn’t realize that ‘till later. See, she was the first new face I’d seen in ages, and I just had to introduce her to every Apple. We give her the lowdown of what we made, and she gives it the okay. But just as she’s about to leave, little Apple Bloom asks her to stay for brunch.”
Starlight shrugged, still wondering what the point of the story was.
“Part of me could tell this mare was a might busy. Another part, though, just wanted her to stay. Get to know her! And I could see we might’ve overwhelmed her a bit. But the unicorn looks to my sister for a moment and then says sure, she’ll stay.” Applejack smiled at the memory. “We stuffed her so full of food, she practically rolled out the front gate. And you know what I learned from all that?”
So far, Starlight hadn’t learned anything. “That some unicorns should know when to stop eating?”
Applejack shook her head. “No, consarnit. Not long after, I learned that we’d played host to an important pony, the student of the ruler of Equestria. In a way, she was the second-most important pony in all the land. And yet, she cared about the feelin’s of a little filly she’d only just met. I liked that about her. Now skip to later that night, when all of us stayed up to watch the princess arrive and raise the sun. ‘Cept she never came.” Applejack’s voice fell gravely quiet. “No princess, no sun, nothing. The night remained, and the only visitor we got was a fierce-lookin’ alicorn with snake eyes, callin’ us her ‘loyal subjects.’”
Starlight nodded. “That was the night Nightmare Moon returned.”
“Eeyup. Everypony flies into a panic, runnin’ around like scared chickens. ‘Cept for that little unicorn. See, she knew who that black pony was, and she was set on doing something about it. When I saw her face that creature in town hall, it was like there was a light around her. Completely unafraid of a bona fide nightmare! And from that moment, I knew she was a pony worth following. Know why?”
“Because that was Twilight, and you knew the princess sent someone powerful to deal with the problem?”
Again, Applejack shook her head. “I didn’t know her any better then than I did after she left my farm.” Her expression turned serious. “All I knew was that she was someone who cared, and that I liked that. I liked her. That was good enough for me, and I reckon everypony else felt the same. We followed Twilight into the forest because we each saw that light around her. We knew we liked her ‘cuz… Well, just ‘cuz.”
Applejack placed a hoof on Starlight’s shoulder. “Can I be totally honest with you?”
Starlight snorted. “Are you capable of not being totally honest?”
Applejack grinned. “I s’pose not.” Her expression hardened again. “The problem with you, Starlight, is that you’re always looking for a problem with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Those kids you met today? They want you to be their team captain, Starlight. Don’t you understand that? But all you’ve done is ask ‘why.’ Like there’s something actually wrong with you, and you have to keep looking for something obvious you can put your nose on and say ‘This! This is why they like me!’ And unless you find that, all other possibilities are out the window. Did it never occur to you that, I dunno, they just like you? The same way we liked Twilight? Nopony can explain why friendships start, hon. They just do.”
Applejack paused a moment, searching for the right words. “We saw somethin’ special in Twilight that night. I reckon those kids see the same in you. They don’t need anything more than that, and neither should you.”
Was it really that simple, Starlight wondered. Did they like her because… Because she was just likable? But, then why was she never able to make more than one friend as a child before? Why were the kids here different from the ones back home?
“Rumble doesn’t seem to think I should be captain,” Starlight ventured.
“Why is it that when seven kids say they want you, you listen to the one who don’t?” Applejack shot back, exasperated. “Maybe he’s in a bad mood. Maybe he had a fight with his brother this morning, and he’s taking it out on you. Maybe he just likes boys more than girls.”
“Maybe he sees something in me that isn’t worth trusting,” Starlight retorted.
“And maybe you should have a talk with him. And have a little more faith in yourself while you’re at it. You might be surprised.” Applejack glanced at the sun. “It’s almost 9 o’clock. I think we’ve been here long enough. So…” She looked around at the baskets surrounding them. “You see anything wrong with this here equipment, ‘cuz I don’t.” Starlight shrugged and shook her head. “Then we should get back and settle this whole captain thing.” Applejack pushed her hat back on her head and stood up.
Starlight followed suit. “We didn’t actually have to check anything here, did we?” she asked.
“I’m a coach, and you looked like you needed some coaching.” Applejack smiled. “I sure hope it helped.”
Starlight and Applejack returned to find the rest of Cherry Team gathered around Rumble and Toola Roola. Both looked furious with each other, and the rancorous atmosphere threatened to erupt into a full-scale schoolyard fight. Muttering a word that she’d normally guard against using around children, Applejack dashed forward and began separating the two.
“Stop being such a jerk, Grumble!” Toola shouted as Coconut pulled her back by her tail.
“Stop calling me that!” Rumble shouted back.
“Grumble! Grumble! Grumble!” Toola taunted, struggling against her friend’s efforts.
Applejack fixed them both with a glare that could likely peel the paint from her barn, quieting them instantly. As the boys and girls separated the feuding foals, Starlight walked up to Lulamoon.
“Great, I leave for ten minutes, and the team’s ready to declare civil war.” Starlight sighed. “I take it Toola Roola was defending my honor?”
“Not just her. I helped, too,” Lulamoon protested. “And the team’s not ready to declare war. It’s just Rumble versus everyone else. I say we tell him to get lost. He’ll be nothing but trouble.”
Starlight looked over at Rumble. She considered Lula’s suggestion, then shook her head. Pipsqueak and Chip seemed to be trying to calm him down, but something was clearly bothering him. Something important, at least to him. “No, if I’m going to be captain, then I better start acting like one.” She squared her shoulders.
Lulamoon fell in beside her, a gleam in her eyes and wicked grin on her face. “All right! You kick him in the shins, and I’ll hit him in the nose!”
Starlight swiveled her head slowly towards Lula, and the smaller unicorn’s grin wilted under her scowling glare. “I mean, you’ll go and have a reasonable discussion with him, right?” Lula’s nervous laugh died away as she gulped. “We’re not going to have to sing a song with him, are we?” she asked. “Because I just can’t make those up on the spot the way Twilight does.”
Shaking her head with a sigh, Starlight turned back toward the truculent colt. “Just stand back and let me handle it.” Starlight marched forward a few steps. “Rumble!” she called out.
Rumble looked around, then his face darkened again when he saw her. “What do you want?!” he shouted back.
Starlight tried to sound as calm as she could. “Just to talk. Please.”
He turned away, but Starlight could see Pipsqueak pleading with him, his voice just a little too low to make out. Eventually, Rumble sighed and nodded. He pointed to a neutral corner of the waiting area. “We can talk there.”
Starlight nodded, and the two of them approached each other warily. She glanced back and saw Applejack motioning for the others to stand back and give them some privacy, winking and mouthing “Good luck” to her. She and Rumble reached the corner, and silently looked each other over.
His dark mane was brushed back, making him look as though he’d just flown there straight through a hurricane. But it was the darkness of his expression that gave her pause. There was real anger in his eyes, the sort you see when you’re convinced that someone has done you wrong. Starlight knew that look well; she’d seen it in her own eyes every morning in the mirror for half a year after Twilight had driven her from her town. He wasn’t just being difficult for the sake of being difficult. Whatever his problem with her was, it was real to him.
Okay, Starlight, she thought. Just play it cool and be friendly. It’s like Applejack said. For once in your life, don’t automatically assume that the kid doesn’t like you. Starlight took a deep breath held out her hoof. “Hi. We never actually talked before. I’m Starlight. How do you do?”
Rumble frowned at her hoof, then looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t like you,” he growled.
Kid, you are not making this easy.
Lulamoon’s suggestion about kicking him in the shins was growing more appealing by the minute. Starlight tried again. “Do you always act like this to ponies trying to be friendly?”
“No,” he replied. “Just to liars who come here to mess things up for us.”
Starlight’s patience was beginning to wear thin as she lowered her hoof. “What do mean ‘liar?’ I haven’t lied about anything! I never tried to hide who I was!”
Rumble rolled his eyes. “You’re pretending to be a kid.”
“Yeah! So I could play with you!”
“But this day isn’t for you! It’s for us!” He glowered at her before pressing on. “Field Day’s for us kids! I don’t care if you did some weird magic to make yourself look like a kid, because you’re still a grown up! You’re just going to mess things up for us, like what happened with the Applewood Derby!”
Starlight vaguely recalled there being a soapbox derby held in town shortly after she came to live in Ponyville. But that was also around the time she’d first befriended Trixie, and she’d been more interested in spending time with her than watching a bunch of foals racing around the town center.
“What happened at the derby? I never saw it.”
Rumble scowled in Applejack’s direction. “Ask the coach about it. She and her friends butted in and ended up ruining the race for the rest of us. I’ve been looking forward to Field Day, and I don’t want any stupid grown ups playing around and messing this up for us, too!”
Starlight tilted her head. “But isn’t that why we’re all here? To play games? Even you, right?”
Rumble scoffed. “Not play! Play around!” He turned away from her. “I was right, you don’t understand,” he grumbled to himself.
Starlight stepped closer. “Rumble, please. I want to understand. I’m trying to understand. Just explain it to me, straight out.”
He began to answer, then bit his lip nervously. “You’re a grown up. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“Does this look like a grown up?” Starlight laughed, pointing to herself. “Because I don’t think any grown ups wear their hair like this. C’mon, this is your big chance. Tell me off, like any other kid. I’m just like Toola Roola, only I won’t call you names.”
For just a moment, his scowl lightened, and she could see the hint of a smile. That sealed the deal, she thought. This was a good kid. She could get through to him.
“Okay.” Rumble squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye. “You’re just here to fool around and not really try to win.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going to fool around. I’m here to play and have fun, just like the rest of you.”
“See?” he retorted. “That’s what I mean! You probably woke up and thought we’re all really cute and you want to play baby games with the little kids. Well, games are important!” The anger had returned to his eyes. “It’s bad enough a couple of grown ups want to butt in on something for us, but you can’t be captain! It’s not fair!”
“Why not?”
“Because you won’t take it seriously!” he shouted. He fell silent a moment, squeezing his eyes shut as he took a breath. And hard as he tried, he couldn’t hide the hint of a tear. “I want us to win,” he said, his voice quieter. “I don’t want a captain who doesn’t see this is important to us.” He gazed at her. “It isn’t fair. If we lose, you get to go home and forget about us, like it doesn’t matter. But we go home feeling like we let our friends down.”
And just like that, Starlight understood. He was afraid. Afraid of putting his trust in someone who wouldn’t understand his feelings. Afraid she’d sacrifice the team’s chances and then abandon them in the end. Afraid she’d just end up turning her back on them.
He was afraid the same way she was afraid.
Starlight placed a hoof on his shoulder, and he looked up at her, his scowl softening slightly. “Rumble,” she said. “I’m not here to play around. This is serious for me.”
“Why?”
She sighed. “When I was little…” He arched one eyebrow. “The first time I was little, I was never able to make many friends. I couldn’t trust anyone, so no one trusted me. I didn’t get to play in any Field Days with other kids. All I did was watch everypony else from the side of the playground. Just me, scared to be alone, and scared of trying to make friends.”
She withdrew her hoof and turned away. “I wasn’t good at being a kid, and when I grew up, I wasn’t that good at being an adult, either. It’s like I got stuck somewhere along the way, always just a little bit scared.” She looked back at him. “I don’t want to be scared anymore, and I think this will help. I think that if I get another try at being a kid, I can maybe be a better grown up.
She looked into his eyes, wondering if this little colt understood. Finally, he nodded hesitantly.
“So, this isn’t all fun and games for me, Rumble. It’s serious. What I’m doing, why I’m here, meeting all of you, playing with you… It’s all serious. And don’t tell me I can’t understand, because I know how important games are to us— I mean, to kids.”
“Why?” he asked. For the first time, the scowl disappeared and he seemed genuinely interested.
She smiled. “I had one friend when I was your age. We did everything together, but the thing I loved most was when we played Dragon Pit.”
“What’s Dragon Pit?”
Starlight scoffed, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, only coolest board game ever! You get to be a dragon trying to grab treasure, and the board looks like a volcano! There’s traps you fall into, and dice, and sometimes, the volcano erupts!”
Rumble looked dubious. “You’re making that up!”
Starlight placed a hoof over her heart. “I swear! It’s like this little marble that pops out of the volcano, and then it rolls down and if it hits your guy, you have to go to the bottom and start over!”
The colt was silent a moment. “Okay, that does sound like a pretty cool game,” he admitted.
Starlight nodded. “We played lots of games together, but that one was the best. Playing that game with my friend was… It was precious to me. It still is.” She gazed plaintively at him. “So I do understand, Rumble. I feel the same way you do about it. Games are…” What was the best way to put it? “Games are how kids learn things. They learn about each other. How to win and how to lose. I know why this is important to you.”
Starlight realized that Twilight had been wrong. She'd thought doing this would be safe, and that there were no real stakes. But that was because she was a grown up. She’d forgotten what it was like for children, how serious these things could feel. But thanks to this colt, Starlight remembered. And she resolved not to let him down. She would do as Twilight asked.
She would help her team as best she could.
Starlight reached out toward him. “Rumble, I wasn’t sure what I’d find when I came here today. I was scared to meet you all, and I was scared when the rest of the team wanted me to be captain. But I want to do this. I want to be your captain. I want to prove to you that I care. Will you give me a chance? And I promise...” She made an X over her heart. “I promise, I’ll play these games like a kid.”
Rumble gazed at her silently, until his expression softened. He took her hoof in his and shook it. “One condition,” he said with a hint of grin. “Can you show me that Dragon Pit game sometime?”
Starlight snorted. “Sure. As long as you do your best today, Grumble. Deal?”
Rumble nodded. “Deal...Captain.”
Suddenly, there was a round of cheers and stomping. Starlight and Rumble turned to see the rest of Cherry Team applauding their truce. The two of them withdrew their hooves, blushing at the sudden attention. Applejack trotted over, a smile on her face and gleam in her eye.
“If y’all are done with the gabbin’ and hoof holdin’,” she said, “then it’s high time we got ourselves lined up out on the field. The mayor’s got some gabbin’ of her own to do before the fun can start.”
Starlight looked from Applejack to the children waiting for her. Her team. Her friends. She nodded to herself. She was ready.
She and Rumble walked back to the others as they lined up, with Starlight in the lead. She looked left, and then right. “We’re Cherry Team,” she called out. “Win or lose, we’ll do our best.”
The children nodded, and Starlight looked ahead, seeing the other teams assembling on the main field.
“Who are we?!” she shouted.
“CHERRY TEAM!” they answered in unison.
“And what do we do?!”
“OUR BEST!”
Starlight narrowed her eyes and smiled.
“All right team,” she said, stepping forward. “Let’s play.”
