Plants And Rocks And Things
Sunset Shimmer forgave me, and that was the problem.
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she was able to move past how I stole everyone's memories in a sad swing at revenge. It's because of her that I'm not suspended for life for what I did - and she's been trying her best to bring me out into Canterlot High's social world so I'm not forgotten anymore. The problem is... Sunset Shimmer and her friends are extra. Very, very extra.
I've spent the last few years with almost no social contact, moving from day to day barely being noticed and even more rarely being spoken to. Their solution has been to invite me to multiple events a day, re-introduce me to every student and try to convince me to join any extracurricular activity they're able to think of. Each and every time with a cheery "But Wallflower, we just want to help you make up for lost time!".
They mean well, they really do. And I appreciate it! But my social life has gone from zero to a hundred instantly and it's been tough to handle that. I want to be noticed, but I'm still Wallflower. It's all too much.
That's why I left math class early - it's right before lunch and I don't think I can deal with those seven right now. I need a breather. I can't shelter in the garden - not only do the Rainbooms know to look for me there, but now there's other members of the gardening club. And I love Roseluck and Ditzy! Don't get me wrong, I do! But sometimes I just need....
Silence.
That's why I'm sneaking through the halls of Canterlot High, trying to be invisible again.
The bell rings to let out class sooner than I'd like it to, but just late enough. I duck inside my hiding place in the same moment the classroom doors open.
I'm not supposed to be in here - nobody is. My shelter is a storage room off to the side of the auditorium that the drama club uses to keep old props and scenery. They only come in here when they need to repurpose something for the next production - so during the two weeks before a show starts. The rest of the time, this room is locked up. Or it would be if the strikeplate of the door wasn't broken, preventing it from latching.
I lean my back against the door and wait. I cut getting in close, and it's possible someone saw me slip inside. My breath won't come as I wait to see if someone tries the knob - but no one does. No one threatens to find this little hidey-hole where I can eat lunch in the quiet and be alone.
The smell of dust, old paint and mothballs tickles my nose. The room is a chaotic mess of used furniture, hand-painted backdrops and racks of old costumes from plays years before. There isn't a ton of room to move, but I like that. A cluttered room to let me unclutter my mind. I like the irony.
Old fluorescent lights flicker on overhead when I flip the switch, strobing for a moment before casting the entire room in painfully stark light. There's a girl standing there, crushing herself against a faded backdrop from a production of Oklahoma!. She's grey - grey hair, grey skin, grey jacket over grey blouse over grey skirt. Her only other color is in those wide, deep purple eyes that tremble with fear.
I'm not alone in the room.
I'm not alone in the room.
Both of us are frozen, staring at each other. That's a good thing since it means neither of us is screaming - I know I want to, and she looks ready to.
My heart's hammering at high speed again, pumping adrenaline and fear through me. But neither of us move and even my panic can't last forever. The body settles and the mind takes over. Poorly.
My stupid brain wants to ask questions, but none of them matter. None of them reach my mouth. Instead, I say something that a month ago would have gotten erased by the Memory Stone later tonight. "Um. Hi."
It's the stupidest, meekest, most brain-dead thing I could possibly say. It still sends the girl backwards with a squeak, her attempt to pull away foiled by the fact that the sunset-lit desert of the backdrop isn't real.
She's trying to flee from me.
She's afraid.
Of me.
There's no shame in admitting I have no idea how to react to that. Most people don't even notice that Wallflower Blush exists, and I think the only time I've ever seen fear of me was Sunset's face after I ripped a decade's worth of memories from her.
I shudder in revulsion at that memory.
The grey girl catches the shiver and mistakes it for being directed at her. She moves from 'withdraw' to 'retreat' in a way that's painfully familiar. The one eye not hidden by her hair looks for a way to escape, but I'm standing in front of the only door.
I could step aside and let her run away. But that feels wrong, somehow. She surprised me, but I'm the one that walked in on her. That deserves an apology.. or at least an explanation.
My mouth opens. "S--sorry." Not the strongest opening, but it's narrowly better than my first attempt to speak. "I, uh. I just..." Lacking the proper worlds, I hold my lunchbag up like a crucifix to a vampire. "Lunch?"
Maybe Sunset and her friends dragging me around and forcing me to talk to people is a good idea. I obviously need the practice. I should be better than this. Come on, Wallflower, get it together!
The surprise is fading now, at least. I try for the third time to manage a complete sentence. "It's quiet in here. It.. lets me be alone with my thoughts. I like that." I pause. "You understand what I mean, right?"
Hesitation. Unease. Then? "Mmm hmm."
Her first words to me - sort of. She's relaxing, at least by a hair. Her guard is still up but the tension in her body is slipping away - she's not trying to meld into the scenery anymore.
I take another chance and move away from the door.
Her eyes dart between me and it, weighing escape. I try to be casual as I leave the door to sit on a polystyrene rock that had been used in a production of Alice In Wonderland - but I keep watching her.
When I open up my lunch, she takes the opening. At first it's just a step as she edges around the side. Then - a quick scurry to the door. She doesn't look back and I don't give chase. And then the grey girl is gone.
It's a little disappointing, but honestly what did I expect? At least she noticed me. And I tried to reach out, so gold star. It doesn't really matter anyway. I came here to eat a quiet lunch and I've got that. Weird grey girls aside.
I didn't go back to the prop room the next day - Applejack insisted I have lunch with them because she had some new dish from her grandfather. It was pretty good, I guess. I just don't understand why pears made her so excited.
Today, though, I need the break again. There's some new foreign student who's visiting and Trixie is absolutely obsessed with him. And since she is, Sunset's helping to introduce him around to everyone. A completely new audience has elevated the Rainbooms from extra to extra and I can barely think straight.
So I leave math early and sneak to my hidey-hole again for lunch. My eyes immediately start searching around as I creep in, looking for the grey girl. I'm not sure if I'm hoping she's here or that she isn't, but knowing my quiet space isn't a complete mystery has me alert.
But she isn't here. I'm alone.
Lunch today isn't complicated - I've got a pretty basic salad in a sealed bowl, a plastic packet of trail mix and a hardboiled egg. It's simple, it's portable and I made it all myself this morning. I've gotten used to doing that - too many times using the Memory Stone meant my own parents would sometimes forget about me. Things are better now, but habits are habits.
The bell in the hall rings, sending everyone into their classrooms for fear of Vice-Principal Luna's hallway patrols. I don't have to worry about her in here, so I just sit on my fake rock and peel my egg.
About the same time I finish peeling, the door cracks open. I freeze - then relax as a thin grey-on-grey form slips inside. It isn't a teacher come to drive me out or a surprised member of the stage crew - it's just the grey girl.
She doesn't say anything to me, even though she looks nervous. I try to smile and go about my business. What did Fluttershy say? No sudden movements around wild animals?
It's a bit of a surprise that she's here with me, and more of one at what she does. While her cautious eyes don't leave me, she goes to the other side of the room where there's a large clay pot - a leftover from Little Shop Of Horrors. She turns it upside-down to use as a stool and.. she pulls out her own lunch.
At this distance, I can't quite see what she's eating - there's a sandwich made with dark bread and a juice box. It also looks like she was ambushed and terrorized at some point because I'd recognize a Pinkie Pie cupcake anywhere. Her eyes are moving now, going between her food and me - watching to see if I do anything. I don't.
She stays silent and so do I. We eat our lunches without a word in the cluttered, quiet room.
It's been a week now - a week of peaceful lunchtimes with the grey girl. Neither of us has said anything since my pathetic attempts that first day and it's settled into a sort of ritual. I sit on the rock, she sits on the pot. We both eat in silence and follow it up with some light reading or homework before heading our separate ways just before the bell rings again.
The prop room isn't peaceful in the same way as it was before the grey girl - weirdly, it's sort of better. I've tried a few times to put it into words, but I always end up at something stupid like being alone together. But I guess since we aren't sharing words, we don't really need to define it with words.
I did try to find out who she is, though. Having access to the yearbook office makes looking up students pretty easy. Unfortunately, finding her isn't. Whoever she is, the grey girl hasn't been in any yearbook photo this year or any of the previous five. It's possible she just didn't get her picture taken - I wasn't in any of the yearbooks either, even without the Stone. I guess it's also possible she's not a student at Canterlot High at all, but why would a teenager who didn't go to this school be here for lunch?
That puzzle's in my head as I munch on today's meal: cold leftover chicken and rice from last night and an orange. It isn't much, but I lucked out this morning! And that will be my secret weapon.
Across the room - where the grey girl's sitting - isn't that far. With all the stuff in here, it's only about a body's distance away. If both of us stretched our arms out, we could hold hands. After a week like this I know the distance well. It's close enough to smell her lunch sometimes - to know that the dark bread means liverwurst and that a lighter wheat bread means she's eating ham. Today's the dark stuff again.
Her eyes are down on the food as she eats - the regularity of this ritual has gotten her to be less tense. But she still looks up uneasily at the sound of crinkling plastic. In my hand is that secret weapon and one of the hardest foods to get in Canterlot High.
Holding out my hand, I offer the grey girl the packet of peanut butter crackers. The only one that had been in the vending machine this morning. The only one I've seen in the vending machine this year.
She hesitates, looking between the crackers and me. I've got her attention now. "Want one?"
The grey girl hesitates a little more - then she nods. Sharply, and just once. "Mmhm!" She takes one and smiles thinly.
I smile back, and take one for myself. Another few minutes pass in silence save for the cracker-crunching. I offer out the packet for her to take another - she does and I move in for the kill. "I, um, I know you don't talk much. And that's okay! But maybe could I know your name so I can say hi?"
I practiced that in the mirror for an hour yesterday. It still didn't come out right.
But it came out right enough. The grey girl's nervous, but gifts as rare as peanut butter crackers will sway anyone. "Um. Marble," is all she can half-whisper.
And that's enough to make me smile wider.
Four days later and we still haven't spoken again. But that's alright - I started hiding out in the prop room because I wanted to be alone with the peace and quiet. I still get the last two and I'm okay with not having the first.
It's been easier to get, too. Sunset and her friends haven't been asking me to join them for lunch the last few days. Maybe they finally realized how pressured I felt and backed off. Fluttershy probably talked to them about it - she's the one who understands me the best. If she did, that might explain why Pinkie hugged me out of the blue a few days ago. She just said 'thank you' and bounced off. The hug to apologize makes sense, but the thank you doesn't. At the same time, one of the first lessons I learned from the Rainbooms was not to try and understand Pinkie Pie. She just is.
Without that pressure, I've been able to find a balance. Half a day of classes, a silent lunch with Marble, another few hours to finish the school day, then two hours in the garden with Rose and Ditzy, dinner and then whatever activity Sunset's friends are up to. It's not as overwhelming as before, and the quiet in the middle of the day is what makes it work, I think.
So does having Marble there. I still can't put it into words, but I think part of it is that she reminds me of who I was before the Stone. She's lonely and afraid, just like I was. And she doesn't know how to get out of the corner she's pinned herself into. So she just suffers in the quiet. I'm not sure how to get her out, either. I barely did, and I can't recommend memory theft to anyone else. One star, would not try again.
That silence is shattered by the sound I fear the most - the knob of the door rattling as someone uses the key. Marble and I both freeze at the sound. The door unlocks (needlessly), opens a crack... and stops. Outside I can hear Sunset Shimmer talking to whoever's opening the door - it sounds like either Snips or Snails. I can never tell them apart. The important thing is that she has them distracted for a few moments.
I turn to say something, but Marble's already ahead of me. Before I can react, she grabs me with surprising strength and hauls us both into the hedgerow of costume racks. I find myself with a nose full of cowboy vest and a girl pressing against me.
Really really pressing against me.
My breath hitches. This would almost be hot if Marble wasn't trembling with fear. I can feel it through her fingertips - they're tight on my upper arms, anchoring her to me. Neither of us can see out of the costumes, but we can hear whichever one of the idiot twins it is walking around the prop room and searching for something.
Marble's breaths are short and choppy, hot against the top of my head. She's just that little bit taller than I am - gangly enough to put my face in the crook of her shoulder and her chin on top of my head. I can hear her heartbeat, and it sounds like Pinkie Pie drumming after a platter of cupcakes. This is the closest I've ever been to someone who isn't blood related, and it's putting that same blood to my face in a hot blush. I know Marble's just scared, so I push those thoughts away and try to distract myself with the costumes.
By coincidence, we're at a crossroads in the drama club's life - the most recent moment they changed costume designers. Behind Marble and in front of me is an old, bland cowboy's outfit in tan leather; opposite that is an elegant ballgown that screams Rarity by the subtle touches of lace and nearly invisible stitching. It reminds me that she swore to create an outfit for me that was as comfortable as my sweater but more - in her words - magnifique. That outfit hasn't appeared yet, but I know better than to count out Rarity. There was a sparkle in her eye when she asked how I felt about the color maroon. She's just waiting for me to let my guard down, I'm sure of it.
Sunset's voice practically booms as she leans in through the door and cuts me from my thoughts. "Snails, what's taking so long?" I don't know why she's shouting - the room's too small to need that and Snails can't be more than ten feet from her.
"Uuuuuh I can't find it?"
Of course, he's also an idiot.
And Sunset's deep sigh of frustration tells me she knows it too. "Are you seriously telling me you can't find a shining boot made out of crystal? That should be right in front of you?"
Snails pauses. "No?" He pauses again. "Maybe it's over here, in all the costumes!"
Marble's fingers grip me tighter - I can feel myself bruise.
"No!" Sunset's reply is momentarily frantic. "Um, don't bother. I'm sure Rarity just left it somewhere else. No point in searching here anymore!" Her voice drops to a growl. "Come on."
A series of footsteps followed by the door closing gives the all-clear. Marble finally starts breathing normally again. I wait a few moments longer before I reach up to take one of her hands off my sore arm.
She freezes again in that moment - I can see in her eyes that she's realized what this looks like. Two teenage girls, hidden from the world in a forbidden place, pressed tight against one another... and I just took hold of her hand. The instant blush turns Marble's face almost the same shade of purple as her eyes. She lets go of me just as quick, pulling her hands back like I burned her.
"Marble, there's--" And before I can say anything else, she runs.
Marble left everything behind yesterday. Her bag, half her lunch and a binder full of homework. I took it with me when I left, worried that someone else would come back and find it. I didn't want Marble to get into trouble for being in here - seeing how she reacted to someone harmless like Snails, I can't imagine what Vice-Principal Luna would do to her.
Plus the binder answered one of my questions - the teacher's name on the assignments is Ms. Tender Care, Canterlot High's special education teacher. And that makes sense, since I can't imagine Marble surviving in a normal classroom. It makes me feel a little better to know I don't remember seeing her because we never shared any classes, instead of because I overlooked her like everybody used to do to me. She's good at not being noticed when she wants to be, just like I was.
Worrying that Marble's going to hide from me now is half of why I'm back in the prop room today. (The other half, obviously, is to return her stuff.)
Someone turns the knob, and I'm instantly at attention. Maybe it's Snails again but I'm hoping that it's--
It's Pinkie Pie.
Why is it Pinkie Pie?
"Hi Wally!"
I shift Marble's stuff behind me, out of sight. "Uh, hi Pinkie. W--what are you doing here?"
She walks right around me without a care in the world. "Oh, I'm here to pick up Marble's stuff. She said she forgot it yesterday."
That stuns me long enough for her to snatch it from behind my back with no resistance. "I-- she what? Marble talked to you?"
Pinkie Pie plops down on the overturned pot, and a little bit of anger flares in my belly. That's not her spot, that's Marble's spot! But I don't voice it, and she doesn't seem to notice the frown on my lips. "Weeeeell, she doesn't really talk a lot, but I know how to understand what she means." She leans forward, tapping her temple with a wink. "Psychic twinses," she hoarsely half-whispers.
Three things go through my head in the same moment that my mouth opens. The first tries to understand how Pinkie could possibly understand Marble without Marble talking, because if she was actually psychic no one would have ever heard the end of it. The second is that somehow Pinkie had known I was here, and that might explain the mystery hug. The third is a train-sized brick at the last word she said. It wins the race for my vocal chords. "Twins?!"
"Uh, yeah, of course! She's my baby twin sister. Marbleanna Delilah Pie." She ticks each name off on her fingers. This leaves her with an extra finger, and Pinkie stares at her pinkie as she tries to come up with an extra name for her sister.
Sister!
It makes my head spin.
Pinkie Pie doesn't seem to care about my confusion. She's busy pulling Marble's half-eaten sandwich out and sniffing it - and then putting it back in the lunchbag with a grimace. "I really did mean that thank you, though, Wally. Marble doesn't make friends easily. Or at all!" She laughs, as if being an isolated outcast is a joke. Maybe to her it is. "It's super hard for her, and..." Any hint of cruelty I expect to be on Pinkie's face is gone. She simply... smiles at me. "I know she'd tell you herself if she could."
Something about how she says that rings oddly in my ears. I soldier forward anyway. "Why didn't she come? It's her stuff, she should know I'd give it back."
And there, Pinkie shifts on the pot. I don't see her nervous very often - or at all - but she is now. "Because she's embarrassed," she explains. "Marble's worried you're mad at her because she touched you."
"...What?" Yet again, Pinkie Pie jams a trowel into my thoughts. "Why would I be mad? I'm not!"
Pinkie actually frowns. "Our parents are really traditional. Marble knows about boys and girls. And girls. But she doesn't really understand how relationships work. She doesn't..." Pinkie hesitates, the words grating on her throat. "understand how friendship works, either. She's afraid that you think she was trying to be romantic and are gonna hate her for it. Oooor that you think she was trying to be romantic and you're interested. They both scare her."
"Well I'm not!" It takes me a moment to wrap my head around both unsaid questions. "I'm not going to hate her for it. And I can't be interested. Marble's... nice but I barely know her. I didn't even know you were her sister!"
I've seen Pinkie Pie smile lots of times. Usually from afar, but lately a lot more around me. I've never seen this particular smile on her face, though. It's confusing - a little bit smug, a little bit worried, and a lot happy. One where she knows a joke that she'll never tell to anyone, but when they find it on their own she'll laugh with them. "I'll tell her that."
And while the pit of my stomach churns with the worry that I'm missing something, Pinkie gets off the pot, winks at me and flounces out the door again.
I missed the next day in the prop room. Not by choice: Vice-Principal Luna caught me sneaking out of class. The entire lunch was spent under her watch, but I had other concerns. I spent every minute worrying that Marble would think I didn't show up because I didn't like her. Or that I was mad. Or that I did like her.
Sunset Shimmer didn't help my mood much after I got out of detention, either. After what Pinkie said I'm pretty sure that all of them know where I spend my lunches and why, but Sunset's trying to pretend she doesn't know. And she's trying to help while pretending she doesn't know by talking really loudly around me about her work with the stage crew.
"YEAH, WE'RE PROBABLY GOING TO BE STARTING THE SET-UP WORK FOR THE NEW PLAY ON MONDAY." By that point, Flash Sentry looked deaf from her talking at him. "IT'S A JOINT PRODUCTION OF OUR TOWN WITH A SCHOOL ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CITY. THEY'RE PROVIDING THE CAST AND WE'RE DOING THE REST. A LOT OF THE OLD PROPS AND SETS SHOULD WORK, SO WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO SPEND A LOT OF TIME SORTING THE PROP ROOM."
Sunset's kind of dumb sometimes.
Then she went on to talk about who the other school had set as the lead - Star-something - but I tuned it out. Sunset got her message across: the prop room wasn't going to be a quiet place for us, at least not for a few weeks. That's why I knew I had to be careful and evade Vice-Principal Luna today. It would take all of my cunning and skill to sneak out invisibly while she was looking for me.
That's a lie. I just told Trixie I needed a distraction.
While everyone - teachers and students alike - were coughing in the cloud of smoke, I made my escape.
Entering the prop room, for a moment I'm worried that I'll find myself alone. The next moment when I realize I'm not? I find myself at a loss for words.
Marble's there. Sitting on the pot, with fear in her eyes. Fear of me. Not like that first day, where she was worried I might yell at her or get aggressive or whatever else went through her anxious mind. This fear is one I'm a lot more familiar with - it's seeing someone who's opinion matters and being afraid that they'll reject you.
So I smile. I'm still tense, but she's here and I'm glad for that. Any damage that was done is still fixable.
She sees that smile and the relief. And in that moment she proves herself to be Pinkie Pie's sister - she moves faster than my eyes can track and hugs me. She starts the hug off like Pinkie - no sense of moderation or restraint - but as the seconds pass her grip on me slacks off, turning hesitant. When she finally lets me go, her half-hidden face is flush with embarrassment.
I don't want to overdo it and simply give her arm a reassuring squeeze. Her embarrassed smile back says I made the right call.
She tries to pull away and return to her lunch, but I don't let go. I'm not sure how to tell her about the drama club without having to explain a lot of other things - and somehow I doubt knowing that all of her sister's friends are involved in this now is going to make her feel better. But a thought occurs, and by coincidence I'm prepared.
Out of my pocket comes a first draft copy of the playbill - Sunset had been using the Yearbook office's computers to mock it up. I pass it to Marble and while it takes a minute? Understanding flashes in her eyes. So does worry.
I can't stop us from losing this little sanctuary. But I'm not going to lose Marble with it. She's afraid that's what's coming and being alone again, but that isn't going to happen. I won't let it. I've got other friends; she doesn't. And if I turn my back on her...
I know how I broke. I won't let her fall.
I'm the one to pull away and pick up her lunch. And I'm the one to open the door out of the prop room. And I'm the one that walks down the hall and out the side door of the school. Marble follows me through each step without a word.
Outside is sunny - painfully so. I have to squint, and Marble lets out a little whimper as she pinches her eyes shut. I grab her hand with mine so she doesn't miss a step, and I lead her to my quiet garden.
There's only one sitting rock, but I'm pretty sure we'll manage.
Author's Note
Sorry Sock. I just couldn't figure out how to get them to rob a bank.
