The train’s speaker above the door screeches with feedback, causing me to cover my ears in pain. “Next stop, Hoofington,” it says.“Next stop, Hoofington.” The speaker clicks off.
I look out the window, standing on top of a bench inside the train as it shakes about. Inside, the lamps on the walls brighten the car, shining softly on the cushioned benches facing each other, the peach walls, and the brown carpeted aisle. Outside, fields of wheat as far the eye can see blur past in the moonlight. The moon is still high in the sky, and Hoofington is rapidly approaching. I sigh and stare emptily over the horizon. What am I doing? I got my cutie mark just last week, I don’t have a bit to my name, and I don't even know where I'm—
The train comes to a grinding halt, and my saddlebags and I are thrown against the seat in front of me. Standing up like that was not my brightest moment.
“We have arrived at Hoofington Station,” says the speaker.“The train will depart for Trottingham in five minutes.” The speaker screeches with feedback again, then clicks off. I hate it when it does that. It’s done that since I got on the train, and it’s probably going to do that long after I get off. It doesn’t even matter. It’s four in the morning. No one’s going to board at this hour.
I get back up and rub my sore shoulder for a bit.
“Um...”
I hear a voice behind me. Maybe some ponies actually do take the early trains.
“Excuse me, but are you okay?”
I turn around. Standing in front of the door to the car is a pegasus about twice my age, carrying her own saddlebags. I stare at her silently, and she looks back at me. I pick my saddlebags off the floor and walk back to my seat. She looks disappointed and goes to sit on the bench next to mine on the other side of the car.
“We are now departing for Trottingham.”
The train moves. I open my saddlebags again to check if my things are still in there, which they are: my blanket, a box of crackers, a photo of me, my sister, and my parents, and Mr. Fish.
A few minutes pass as the train bumps along to the next stop. I look over at the pegasus to find her staring at me. She looks down and starts fiddling with something in her bags. I turn away, too.
A few more minutes pass, and I look over at her to find her staring at me again. I shoot her a glare, and she looks down again.
I get the feeling that she’s been staring at me this entire time, so now I’m staring at her. As I expect, she looks up at me.
“What do you want?” I ask. It looks like that caught her off-guard. She recoils in surprise.
“Well, um,” she says, “it’s just that... it’s so early in the morning. Shouldn’t you be—”
“In bed? At home?”
“Well... Yes.”
I lean against the window, then wrap my blanket around myself. “I should, but I’m not.”
I look out the window. Still dark. We’re passing through some woods now. I close my eyes and wrap my blanket around myself tighter, resting my head against the bench.
* * * * *
“Where are you headed?” asks the pegasus.
I look up to see that she’s clamped her hooves over her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says. “Did I wake you?”
I shoot her another glare. “No, but you did keep me from sleeping.”
She looks down.
I sigh. “Well, no, you didn’t do that, either. I couldn’t sleep, anyways.”
“Oh.”
The train shakes about, and the speaker screeches again. “Next stop, Trottingham. Next stop, Trottingham.”
“I don’t know where I’m going,” I say.
“Don’t know where you’re going?”
I frown. “Yeah, don’t know where I’m going. I’m just riding this train to... anywhere, really.”
She seems puzzled. “Well, then, where are you from?”
“Some backwater town called Oakendale. It’s at the other end of the train line.”
“Oakendale?”
I sigh. “You really like repeating what I say, don’t you?”
“No, I...” She turns away again, then clears her throat. “Oakendale is so far away. You must have been riding this train for hours.” She sounds like she’s belittling me.
“Since yesterday,” I reply. “So yes, I’ve been riding this train for hours.” I take off the blanket and try to put it back in my bags—
I forgot about that grinding stop. I fumble, and the things that were in my bags are now all over the floor.
“We have arrived at Trottingham. The train will depart for Fillydelphia in five minutes.”
The pegasus gets off her bench and goes to pick up Mr. Fish from the aisle.
“Don’t touch him!” I shout. She’s taken aback.
She looks away. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just wanted to help.”
“You can help by picking up my other things.”
I pick Mr. Fish up off the floor. His fin’s torn, and his stuffing is popping out his fuzzy blue side. I would hug him tight, but that would only make his stuffing pop out more. I gently place him on my bench. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fish.”
The pegasus had gathered the rest of my things and put my bags on my bench. “Mr. Fish?”
“Yeah, Mr. Fish.” I point to him. “His fin. It’s... it’s torn.”
She goes back to her saddlebags, still on her bench, and pulls out a sewing kit. “Maybe I can help you with that?”
“Uh...” I stammer. I look at Mr. Fish and wonder if I can trust him to her. I could wait until I go home, but... No, I'm not going home. “Alright,” I say. “But I’m watching you closely, okay?”
She replies with a smile, and I give Mr. Fish to her.
I sit next to her watching as she sews him up. To my complete surprise, she’s amazing—I didn’t think one could even use hooves like that. In about fifteen minutes, she gives me back Mr. Fish. She’s done a perfect job. It’s as if Mr. Fish was never ripped in the first place.
I hug Mr. Fish as tight as I can, and he’s fine. “Oh, thank you!” I say. “How can I ever repay you?”
She smiles. “Well, you can tell me why you’re on this train.” Erk. I should have seen that coming.
I look at Mr. Fish. He stares at me with his button eyes, as if he’s telling me to tell her. “Well, you see, it’s... complicated.”
“How so?”
“My parents and I... We had a fight.” I walk over to my bags and pull the box of crackers out. I’m not sure why I did. I’m not hungry, but I start stuffing crackers in my mouth anyways.
“That must have been unpleasant.”
My mouth curls into an empty smile. “Unpleasant? Unpleasant? There was lots of crying and screaming and ‘You’ll never amount to anything!’ and... and...”
My eyes water, and I curl up into a ball, holding Mr. Fish tightly. The box of crackers falls to the floor.
“Next stop, Fillydelphia. Next stop, Fillydelphia.”
The pegasus gets my blanket out of my bags and pulls it over me. “There, there,” she coos. I weep silently into the blanket. She holds me as the train comes to a grinding stop again.
“We have arrived at Fillydelphia. The train will depart for Ponyville in five minutes.”
“Were they always like that?” she asks.
I don’t know how long it is before I stop crying. “No,” I say. “They weren’t. They were so happy when I got my cutie mark...” I point to my cutie mark, a shooting star. “...but when they saw my grades, they said they were so disappointed. Even if I’m not that good at... well, everything, I’m still doing what I love most.” I pick the box of crackers off the floor. “They said they were disappointed, and I said that, and then it kind of just... blew up.”
She pulls out the photo of me and my family from my bags. “I think they just want what’s best for you,” she says. She holds the photo in front of me. “You all look so happy in this picture.”
And we do. This is the photo of us at our last vacation to Candyland. My dad is standing under the chocolate fountain while my mom is holding an umbrella over him. My sister and I are grinning widely and splashing each other with chocolate.
I lean against the pegasus. She doesn’t seem to mind, and she puts a hoof around me. She’s warm.
“If you go back,” she says, “I’m sure that you’ll be one big happy family again. They just want to help you follow your dreams. School is very important for astronomy, you know.”
I look up at her. “Do you really think that?”
She smiles. “Yes. Some parents don’t care for their children. But yours...” She holds up the photo again. “...don’t look like them. You all look so happy here. Parents like yours would want what’s best for their children. Sometimes, anger and sadness make ponies say things they don’t mean.”
“No, I meant the thing about school.”
She looks surprised, then stifles a chuckle. “Yes, I mean that too. You see, life is...” She puts a hoof to her chin. “...like a train. You ride it to whatever stop is right for you. Some stops are further than others and their tickets are more expensive, but those stops usually go to better places.”
“Next stop, Ponyville. Next stop, Ponyville.”
She picks up her bags. “This is my stop,” she says.
“We have arrived at Ponyville. The train will depart for Manehattan in five minutes.”
She smiles warmly. “Goodbye.”
I try to follow her, but she holds me back with a hoof.
“This isn’t your stop. Go home. Your parents must be worried sick.” She takes a few bits out of her bags and puts them in mine. “That should be enough for the train ride back to Oakendale from the next town.” She steps off the car.
I open a window and poke my head out. “Wait!” I shout.
She smiles again and says something that I can’t hear as she walks off the platform. She’s gone.
The speaker says, “We are now departing for Manehattan.” The train starts to move.
The sun’s coming up. The pegasus’s town is moving further and further away.
I sit back down and look Mr. Fish in the eyes. Maybe she’s wrong, and my parents are just disappointed. Maybe she’s right, and they really do want me to be happy. But where am I going now? I’ll figure it out when I get there, I guess. I’ll worry about it later. Wherever it is that I’m getting off, it’ll be at the right stop.
