Winning Him Over

by Trials

Rating: teen
Tags: Big Macintosh, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Romance
Length: 11221

The sequel to Role Reversal. Big Mac still doesn't realise Smarty's true feelings. Seemingly, his definition of 'friend' is different to hers. When she hears of an upcoming competition, she attemps to make her thoughts known.

The sequel to Role Reversal.

It's been several weeks since Smarty Pants began her life at Sweet Apple Acres. Even after the night she shared with Big Mac, he hasn't realised her true intentions. Seemingly, his definition of 'friend' is very different to her own. When Smarty catches wind of an upcoming competition, she hatches a plan in the hopes of finally making Big Mac understand her feelings. What can possibly go wrong?

Pre-read by the, oh, so lovely RainbowBob, and edited by the omniscient Fluttrick!

Published 2013-08-18 02:00:03 UTC
Last updated 2013-09-30 00:35:36 UTC

The Competition

Winning Him Over

“Here’s another batch, Mac!” the mare cried out from the foot of the hill. With a sigh, she wiped her brow. It was dampened by sweat, but she didn’t mind. It was hard work collecting apples, but she had to earn her keep somehow. Her eyes wandered over to the horizon. The sun was finally setting, sending forth a burst of several different shades of orange into the sky as it began to sink below a faraway hill. With a glance upwards, she could see the occasional glimmer of a distant star on the canvas of pure darkness. The mare gasped, simply taking in the beautiful view. Her mouth fell open.

“Nice haul,” said the voice of a stallion. Smarty Pants shut her mouth so quick, she heard her teeth click together. She turned to face Big Mac, who was busying himself with the basket of apples. Smarty would never admit it, but she hadn’t heard him approach. With a grunt, he placed the basket on his back, and began making his way back up the hill. “Okay, that’s enough work. Come up when ya want to,” he said, pointing to the house.

“It’s a nice view, isn’t it?” Smarty asked, turning back around to face it.

“Gets real pretty about this time,” Big Mac confirmed.

“Don’t you just want to sit here and watch the sun go down?” she tried.

Big Mac hesitated. “Can’t.” he said bluntly. “AJ wants me for somethin’.”

Smarty raised an eyebrow. “She always does,” she said softly.

“What?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Smarty lied. “Just saying how gorgeous the horizon looks.”

“Certainly does,” Mac said before walking up the hill.

Smarty watched the stallion as he left. When he was over the curve of the hill, she sighed. She felt like sitting down. With a yawn, she leapt forward, falling softly on the ground. She bowed her head, smelling the rich scent of freshly-cut grass. Of course, Smarty was used to the smell by now. After living on an orchard for a few weeks, it was practically the only smell around the place, aside from the occasional scent of a delicious apple pie. Granny Smith was an expert with pies. That didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the grassy smell, however; it reminded her of the fact she was alive.

She raised a hoof to her chin, balancing the weight of her head on it. With another sigh, she looked up into the sky again. There were more stars illuminating the darkness. It was beautiful, but she had other things on her mind.

Big Mac was having trouble seeing Smarty’s actual intentions. Ever since the night they had shared, he had been unfathomably difficult to speak to. Actually interacting with him was a completely different story. Smarty didn’t know if he was just oblivious to her feelings, or if he was doing in on purpose. Moreover, she didn’t know which one was worse.

Smarty knew that he wanted a friend, but that was it. Perhaps his definition of ‘friend’ was slightly different to hers. After all, it was quite a subjective term. Even then, with her... willpower, her determination, as it were, she was surprised he hadn’t realised. Especially after that night. He had been just as forward as she had been, but it simply disappeared the next morning. The promised conversation never happened, and they certainly didn't go into the same bed again. That could’ve been because of Applejack finding the pair of them cuddling in the same bed...

Maybe he was just ignoring her? It was still possible. With a body like his, it must be hard to avoid attention from the mares around town. The last time they walked through Ponyville, in silence, as she recalled, Smarty noticed they couldn't keep their eyes off of him. What if he had his eyes set on another—

Shut up. Smarty let her head fall to the grass. She just didn’t know. She bumped her head several times on the ground. Shut up, shut up, shut up. All she did know was the fact that she could keep trying. With a stretch of her tired legs, she got up from the grass. The last shade of orange had finally disappeared below the horizon, only to be replaced the dark violet of the night. While she did enjoy the peace of the night, it was starting to get cold. She began making her way up the hill, in the same hoofsteps Big Mac had made only moments ago.

Fortunately, the lights shone through the curtains of the house, allowing Smarty to see where she was going. It wasn’t as if she would smack into a tree without the light, but it put her mind at ease. That way, she could see any timberwolves sneaking up on her again. Still, she kept her head on a swivel. Just in case. Following the path of the hill, she eventually found herself on the doorstep of the house. Smarty didn’t like calling it her ‘home’. ‘Home’ sounded like she owned it, but the truth was: she was simply doing work in return for shelter and food. Of course, that wasn’t the way Applejack would put it—she would most likely say something kinder—but it was the truth.

“Jus’ hurry up, Mac,” said Applejack from behind the door. “Otherwise, it’ll get cold.” Smarty heard the twist of the handle, and Big Mac almost collided with her as he stepped down.

He blushed. “Sorry,” he mumbled, turning away.

“Can I come?” she asked.

“Oh. Uh. I dunno ‘bout th—”

“Sure!” Applejack interrupted. “Mac would jus’ love the company! Yer takin’ that pie to my friend, Rarity. Ya met her before, I think. It’s a bit late out, so don’t dilly-dally, okay?”

Smarty nodded eagerly. She tried to push the thought of Mac attempting to reject her to the back of her mind, but she knew it was going to be hard. With a fake smile, she began walking. “C’mon, Big Mac! Let’s go already!”

“Right behind ya,” he said as he placed the pie in his saddlebag.

It took longer than Smarty expected to reach Rarity’s boutique. Maybe it was because the time seemingly dragged on forever. After all, time flies when you’re having fun. Big Mac hadn’t spoken a word, and neither had she. Big Mac would occasionally catch her watching eyes, and she would always look away at the last moment, but that was all the interaction they’d shared. At least Smarty had the silence to think, even if each little thought was trying to emerge as the most important in an incoherent maelstrom of words, creating a distracting haze that occupied Smarty as she walked.

Hell, even recognising her thoughts as animate objects—rather than the electrochemical messages they truly were—engaged her mind.

Shut up. In complete silence, aside from the insane amount of noise in her mind, the pair of them made a left turn on the main street of Ponyville. The darkness shrouded the top of the boutique, but the lights inside thankfully illuminated the entrance. Without a word, Smarty walked over to rap on the wooden door. Big Mac exchanged a glance with her for the first time, but was interrupted as soon as her eyes latched onto his.

“Good evening!” Rarity said, smiling warmly as she indicated inside, “please, make yourselves at home!”

“Uh, it’s fine, Miss Rarity,” Big Mac began, “it’s quite late, and we’re mighty busy. Here’s the pie ya ordered,” he said, reaching into his saddlebag to pick up said palatable pastry. With a giggle, Rarity took it into her own hooves.

“Thank you very much, but you can’t stay out here. Nonsense!” Rarity exclaimed, laughing politely. She peered around the side of the door, exactly where Smarty was hiding. “Oh, Smarty Pants!” she cried, grabbing her by the hoof. “You didn’t say anything. It would be rude not to invite you in for a cup of tea, especially when it’s this cold!” she said, shivering for effect.

Smarty hesitated, but then nodded. “Nice to see you again, Rarity,” she said. Though I hope you won’t try to fit me into another one of those cursed dresses, she thought.

“And you!” Rarity said, grinning. “Tell me, what’s it like living on an orchard? I could never do it myself. Of course, I mean no offence, Big Mac,” she added quickly.

“It’s fine,” he said simply. “Livin’ on an orchard ain’t for everyone.”

“Quite,” she confirmed, allowing an awkward silence to fall between the three. Smarty only just realised that Rarity was waiting for an answer when she began talking again. “Anyway, come in! It’s been a while since we’ve caught up.”

“I’ll stay out here,” Big Mac said. “Wait for ya to finish.”

“Are you sure?” Rarity asked, pouting slightly. Big Mac nodded firmly. “Well, just you and I, Smarty Pants! We can have a proper mare talk...” Rarity rubbed her hooves together, giggling as she bowed her head.

“Uh, sure,” Smarty said. Rarity began walking inside, allowing Smarty to shoot Big Mac a worried glance before following the mare. Much to her dismay, he didn’t even notice. He was watching the starry sky above, which was obviously more important than herself. Obviously. With a silent sigh, Smarty entered the boutique and shut the door behind her. She would’ve said farewell to him, but she doubted he would even hear it through the thickness of his skull.

“Rarity?” she called.

“Over here, darling!” Rarity replied. Smarty followed the voice, going straight through the wide room she’d entered, and into the next room. Rarity was standing over the pie, her knife at the ready. “Would you like a slice while it’s still warm?” she asked, cutting away before waiting for the reply. Smarty’s stomach just so happened to grumble at precisely the wrong moment. “Oh, somehow, I think I know the answer!” Rarity exclaimed, laughing.

“No thanks, Rarity. Had enough apples in the past couple of weeks to last a lifetime,” Smarty admitted. She knew Rarity would rather force-feed her than let her go without food after hearing her stupid stomach.

Instead, Rarity simply paused. “Fair enough,” she admitted, “I think they are slightly... fanatical about apples over there, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Smarty’s eyes went wide. “I thought I was the only one!”

“No, of course not,” Rarity said. “Then again, it is a family tradition, so that’s neither here nor there...” The unicorn placed the slice of pie gently on a plate. As delicately as possible, she took a small bite out of it, shuddering as the overwhelming flavour tantalised her taste buds. “So...” she began, recovering from the rich taste, “is there... something between you and...” She tilted her head to the left.

Smarty cocked her head. “Excuse me?” she asked, making sure to remain polite.

Rarity beamed. “Oh, I think that little accent Applejack has is rubbing off on you. Rather interesting,” she said, giggling once more. Silence fell between them.

“What did you mean?” Smarty asked. Dodging questions wasn’t unfamiliar territory with Rarity, and she knew this from the first time she’d met her.

“Applejack’s accent? Oh, you must know. She often drawls her words. Says ‘yah’ instead of—”

“No, what did you mean?” Smarty asked. “About something between myself and...” She tilted her head in the same direction as Rarity had done.

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come now. You don’t understand my meaning?”

“Hence why I asked,” Smarty said, growing irritated. She wouldn’t be able to hold her composure for much longer. It wasn’t like she disliked Rarity for dodging the question—even if it was rather disconcerting—but Smarty hated being made a fool of. She would much prefer being ignored to having her intelligence insulted, but Rarity was obviously opting for both.

“You. Him,” she said slowly. “There’s nothing between you two?”

“Him? Who are you tal—” Her mind finally made the link. Him. Big Mac and her. Her and Big Mac. Were it not for Rarity being in the same room, she would’ve verbally berated herself.

“Either that, or Big Mac was simply being the usual gentlecolt,” Rarity said. “Not every stallion will wait outside in the cold to walk you home.”

“Is that what it is?” Smarty asked.

Rarity shrugged. “As I said, it could be either.”

Smarty sighed. Rarity took another delicate bite of her pie. “Is it that obvious?” Smarty tried.

“Quite. I’ve seen the way you look at him," Rarity admitted.

“I thought I was keeping it quite subtle...” The unicorn let out a sudden laugh before apologising profusely. “Well, I don’t really feel like talking about it now,” Smarty complained, sulking.

“No, no, no, please!” Rarity begged, her voice desperate. “Take a seat! Make yourself at home!”

“I’m fine,” Smarty admitted. “The thing is, I don’t think Big Mac realises that I... like him. We shared this one night—”

“Oh, do continue!” Rarity exclaimed, smiling excitedly. Her eyes were twinkling.

Smarty’s brow furrowed. “No!” she cried. “It wasn’t anything like that. We just slept in the same bed for a night. It was... nice, but from that point onwards, Big Mac has barely said a word. It’s been a couple of weeks now, and the most interaction he’s given me is... well, the occasional statement. How lovely the weather is. How he’s happy with my work. Even then, it’s always me starting the conversations. I mean, what am I meant to do? I can read most ponies like a book, but it’s like Big Mac has a few pages stuck together! He’s as responsive as a rock, and that’s saying something! You can always roll a rock down a hill, or throw it somewhere! How am I meant to—”

Smarty felt a comforting hoof on her shoulder, interrupting her thoughts. She caught her breath, only then realising that she’d lost it. Rarity retrieved a handkerchief, gently dabbing Smarty’s forehead. Smarty hadn’t even noticed how hot the room suddenly was. “Thanks,” she said simply, going red from embarrassment. There she was again, looking like a moron. Nothing new there. Her head fell, and her shoulders slumped.

Rarity smiled cheerfully. “Not a problem, my dear. It’s obviously upsetting you. Now, a word to the wise: Big Mac isn’t exactly... big on words. He’s very shy. Why, I can barely get a word out of him myself. Sometimes, he simply feels that silence is better than words. As such, it can be rather difficult for him to present his feelings so willingly.”

“Oh, I’m beyond being subtle, Rarity,” Smarty admitted, nodding furiously. “If he doesn’t understand me, I have to be doing something wrong. The amount of times he's brushed me off... well, I don't know how many more times I can take."

“See, you are rather straightforward, much like me,” Rarity said. “We can both express ourselves to the world with ease, but it’s different for Big Mac. It’s not that he simply wants to mind his own business; I believe it’s physically difficult for him to show his feelings.”

Silence fell between the pair. “That’s stupid,” Smarty admitted.

Rarity shrugged. “A little.”

“Maybe it’s just because he doesn’t understand me? Maybe I'm doing something wrong?” Smarty asked, raising a hoof to her chin. “I mean, I could try to make it more obvious for him. He might just not... Oh, forget it,” she said. “Thanks for the chat, Rarity, but it’s getting late. Big Mac must be freezing outside. I’ll see you again.” Smarty began moving away. Fortunately, Rarity was occupied by chewing, so she couldn’t reply or keep her from walking away.

She could hear her desperately murmuring through the pie filling her mouth, but decided to keep walking. Smarty suddenly heard the sound of Rarity swallowing deeply, and then a sigh. “Wait!” Rarity cried. “I have an idea!”

“What is it?” Smarty asked, turning instantly on the spot.

“Why, aren’t you eager?” Rarity asked, giggling to herself.

“What is it?” Smarty repeated quickly, punctuating each syllable.

“We have something of a... tradition here in Ponyville. We are, as you can tell, very traditional around these parts. Every year, before the leaves on the trees fall to the ground, stallions who are not spoken for become involuntary participants of the Bachelor’s Buffet contest. Big Mac is among those poor souls, as tradition dictates.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Rarity blinked. “What would that be, dear?”

“I have to fight for Big Mac?” Smarty asked, her voice on the verge of cracking.

“Naturally,” Rarity said. “After all, it is a contest.”

“I can’t do that!” Smarty cried. “Competing with the cutthroat mares of this town? I’d have no chance!”

Rarity harrumphed. “I’ll choose to ignore that comment.”

“Oh, uh, no offence, of course,” Smarty said quickly. “Please continue.”

“As I was saying,” Rarity commented, clearing her throat, “it’s a contest to win the heart of the lucky stallion. It begins in a week or two, though I cannot remember the specific day, and goes on for a further week. You have a week to convince Big Mac into loving you, but there is a catch. As you said, other mares will also be competing for him. At the end of the week, Big Mac can either declare which mare he loves the most, or he can simply abstain.”

“Abstain?” Smarty asked, cocking her head. “Why would he do that?”

Rarity scoffed. “I don’t know. I even tried a couple of years ago, but he said what he says every year.”

“And what is that?”

“He’s waiting for the right one,” Rarity said, rolling her eyes. “A hopeless romantic, if you ask me.”

Smarty licked her lips. “Maybe I am the one.”

The unicorn let out a laugh. “Oh, believe me, that’s what every mare says when they opt for him! He’ll just end up lonely if he doesn’t settle down soon. Half the population of Ponyville have tried for him, and no such luck!”

“But I wasn’t part of that group,” Smarty tried.

“I don’t mean to put you off, I assure you,” Rarity said, “but I don’t want you to be hurt if the answer is... well, what I’m trying to say is—”

“It’s worth a shot,” Smarty finished.

Rarity hesitated. “It is,” she confirmed. The room became quiet once more.

“Well, I think Big Mac has been waiting for long enough,” Smarty said. “Thanks for your hospitality, and for the idea. It’s better than nothing.”

“Of course!” Rarity exclaimed, smiling again. “I’ll show you out.”

“Thanks, but no need. I can let myself out,” Smarty explained, beginning to walk away. “Oh, and Rarity?”

Rarity nodded. “Yes?”

“Could you... um, give me some advice when the time comes?” Smarty asked, her eyes pleading. “I’m not very experienced with talking and interacting with stallions, and—”

“Say no more,” Rarity interrupted. “Of course I can help you! I can teach you the proper etiquette of a mare, as well as... more obvious actions. Maybe a beautiful dress, hm? Some make-up? Easy to do, and it’ll certainly impress Big Mac.”

Smarty chuckled nervously. “That’d be great. Thanks, Rarity. Just something to give me an edge over the competitors, you know?”

“Well, as I said, there might not be many competitors,” Rarity admitted. “A lot of mares have already tried and failed with Big Mac, making them move onto other targets.”

“Just to be sure?” Smarty asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course!” Rarity exclaimed. “I’d be happy to. Whenever you need a word of advice, simply come to me. Now, that stallion is waiting in the cold for you, and I wouldn’t want you to start off poorly. Go, and just keep him happy,” Rarity said, pointing towards the door.

“Thanks, Rarity,” Smarty said. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Smarty Pants continued her walk over to the door. With a heave, she yanked it open, leaving Rarity to talk to herself about the dress she had in mind for Smarty. She rolled her eyes. Smarty didn’t really like dressing up, but maybe it would help her win Big Mac’s heart. As she closed the door behind her, Big Mac glanced over. “Ready?” he asked. She looked him up and down, from his golden mane to his strong hooves and everything in between.

“Ready,” Smarty confirmed. Of course she was ready.

Author's Note

Damn, it feels good to write about Smarty Pants again.

A Rival

“You have to maintain eye contact with him the entire time,” Rarity said, her head falling to her hooves in despair. “Looking away is certain defeat.”

“But he doesn’t like that! Whenever I look at him, he looks away,” Smarty complained.

“Then keep looking at him!” Rarity exclaimed.

Smarty narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t you say he rejected you?”

“Yes, but—”

“And that you weren’t ‘the one’ for him?”

“He did, and I—”

“And that, when you even got down on your knees and begged, he didn’t change his mind?”

“Enough!” Rarity cried, stomping on the floor. “That…” she paused, taking a deep breath, “that is enough about Big Mac and I. I demand a break. Right now” The unicorn promptly left the room, her muzzle raised high in the air.

Smarty slapped a hoof to her face, sighing deeply into it. She didn’t need this right now. The competition began in no less than an hour, and Rarity was still teaching the very basics of attracting a colt. The lesson started off fairly well—Smarty learnt about speaking with articulation—but the more she heard, the more she disagreed, and the more she disagreed, the more they argued.

She drummed a hoof on the table beside her as she heard Rarity mumble to herself. It was just out of earshot, so she couldn’t hear the specifics, but she could make out her name a couple of times. She just refused to care. Rarity had given some sound advice for stallions in general, but Big Mac wasn’t just any stallion. He was shy and sensitive—not exactly the type to be with a… flamboyant pony like Rarity. Smarty already knew this, but some advice was better than no advice.

“Right,” Rarity said, flicking her mane back as she walked into the room. “Before I continue helping you, I want you to say an oath.”

“An oath?” Smarty asked. “Depends if I agree with it.”

“If you don’t, I can’t say I’ll continue helping you.”

Smarty looked at the unicorn, her eyes distrusting. “It sounds like I don’t have a choice.”

“Oh, of course you have a choice,” Rarity said, nodding. “You either say the oath, or don’t.”

“Fine, whatever,” Smarty said with a roll of her eyes, “let’s hear it.”

“I, Smarty Pants, do wholeheartedly agree to listen to Miss Rarity’s knowledge and guidance before arguing on a whim,” Rarity said, indicating to Smarty Pants.

“I, Smarty Pants, do wholeheartedly agree—by a significant amount of unfairness and blackmail—to listen to Miss Rarity’s knowledge and guidance before arguing on a whim,” Smarty repeated. She withstood the following glare from Rarity.

“Furthermore—”

“Really, Rarity? Isn’t that enough?” Smarty asked, trying her best to look bored.

Rarity simply sighed, closing her eyes. “Yes, I suppose so. Now, run along. The Bachelor’s Buffet begins soon, and you wouldn’t want to be late for that.”

“Aren’t you coming? I thought it was traditional.”

“Well, I don’t have to. Stallions without relationships are forced as participants, but a mare can choose whether to attend or not.” When Smarty wore the same confused expression, Rarity continued. “It’s just a tradition. Rather outdated, but tradition, nonetheless.”

“That’s… that’s quite—”

“Traditional,” Rarity finished. When Smarty simply shrugged, she indicated to the door. “Go on. Before you’re too late. And don’t forget my advice!” she shouted as Smarty opened the door. “I’ll be able to help you, so don’t be afraid to ask!”

“Sure. I’ll tell you how it goes! Thanks, Rarity,” Smarty said, closing the door behind her.

It wasn’t a long walk to town hall. As Smarty peered around, she noticed the lack of ponies trotting up and down the streets. Perhaps they were all going to the Bachelor’s Buffet? Surely not. But it did seem less busy than usual… It took Smarty a moment before realising she was going the wrong way. Fortunately, no one was around to watch her turn around and go the way she came from.

It was eerily quiet. Not a single peep came from the houses surrounding her. Ponyville was a loud town at the best of times. Then again, it was simultaneously the loudest and quietest town Smarty had been in, seeing as though Ponyville was the only town she’d been in. Slightly unfair, but correct, nonetheless. Soon enough, she heard the trotting of another pony’s hooves. She turned, coming face-to-face with Big Mac. Instantly, she noticed the several beads of sweat falling down his forehead.

“Oh, hi, Smarty. Fancy seein’ ya around here,” he said, his lip trembling slightly.

“Nice to see you, too!” she exclaimed, struggling to match his pace. “How could I not hear you coming with those massive hooves of yours, eh?”

“What are ya doin’ here, anyway?”

Smarty shrugged. “I thought I’d just get some exercise, you know?”

“But ya worked all day yesterday,” Big Mac pointed out.

“Ah, well… uh, I don’t really see Ponyville that often. It’s a nice town after all,” she said, putting on a warm but fake smile. He was definitely onto her.

“Fair enough,” he said simply. “I think AJ wanted ya back on the farm.”

“No, it’s fine,” Smarty said, frowning, “she said I could have the day off.” She did her best to not sound hurt.

“Fair enough,” Big Mac repeated.

Silence fell between the two. Big Mac’s brisk pace sped up, and Smarty matched it once more. She could hear him sigh slightly. “Anyway, where are you off to in such a hurry?” she asked, putting on an innocent smile.

“Town hall.”

“Oh, yeah? What for?”

“Some stupid tradition,” he complained.

“I’ve heard you folks have a lot of traditions here,” Smarty said, trying to play dumb.

“Too many, some would say.” Smarty giggled. Remembering Rarity’s advice, she looked him straight in his emerald eyes. He briefly glanced around, but quickly returned his attention to the looming building in the middle of the street. Smarty looked the building up and down. She’d seen it in the distance, but it looked far grander up close. She could hear the noise of numerous conversations through the windows. “Well, here I am,” he said, sighing deeply.

“Can I join you?” Smarty asked quickly, fluttering her eyes exactly how Rarity taught her.

“Uh… um,” Big Mac said, looking back and forth between her and town hall. Smarty could’ve sworn she saw him blush slightly, even if it was for a brief moment. He hesitated, but finally opened his mouth. “Sure, but make sure not to volunteer for anythin’. They make a fool outta ya.”

Her eyes glimmered. It was better than nothing. “Th-thanks,” she said, feeling a small fire of hope ignite within her. Big Mac shrugged before opening the door. The wave of voices hit her instantly, almost pushing her back slightly. She’d never heard so many words spoken in such a small space. Row upon row of seats were filled with mares, all of whom were talking to the mare next to them.

“Is this what it’s like the entire time?” Smarty yelled, trying to make her voice heard.

“Huh?” Big Mac said, his voice barely recognisable.

“Never mind,” she said, “it’s just really loud in here!”

“Can’t hear ya!”

“I said—”

“I have to go backstage!” he yelled. “Stay in the seats, and don’t do anythin’!”

“Okay, sure!” she lied. As he left, she turned to find an empty seat. It seemed impossible at first, seeing as though the mares were packed so tightly together. She wandered around the hall, trying to find a space. Maybe this was why Rarity told her to get there early. Eventually, a mare beckoned her over. She must’ve pitied her, as she moved across the seat further, giving herself less room. Smarty smiled, sat down and thanked the mare.

“Here to see the sexy stallions?” she asked, winking.

“Oh, uh, just one,” Smarty said.

“That’s what they all say…” the mare murmured, rubbing her hooves together. “Your first time here, kid?”

“Yep!” Smarty exclaimed. “How did you know?”

“You got here on time,” she stated. “Newcomers never arrive early.”

“I’m guessing you’ve been before?”

“What makes you say that?” the mare asked, raising an eyebrow.

Smarty frowned. “Oh… uh, no, no I mean—”

“Forget it,” the mare interrupted. “The name’s Rainbow Dash, by the way.”

“I’m Smarty Pants.”

“Smarty Pants?” Dash asked, scratching her chin. “Smarty Pants… that sounds way too familiar. How about… no, doesn’t look like you. You’re not Twi’s old buddy, are you?”

Smarty chuckled. She forgot that Twilight promised to never reveal her true identity, and she was glad she kept that promise. Fortunately, only Smarty’s closest friends knew. And Discord, of course. “I am. I think I remember her talking about you.”

The strange mare grinned. “Not surprised. I’m not really someone you forget about. What’d she say about me?”

“Uh, mostly about how modest you are,” Smarty said.

Dash stopped smiling, and rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, sounds about right. Hey, doesn’t that mean you’re the one after Big Mac?”

Smarty felt herself blushing instantly. “H-how did you know that?”

“Oh, AJ told me. Caught you… in the morning, didn’t she?” Dash said, laughing.

With a frown, Smarty lowered her eyebrows. “It wasn’t like that! It was just…”

“Cuddling?” Dash finished, raising an eyebrow before laughing more. “That’s what they all say!”

“Sh-shut up!” Smarty exclaimed, squeaking slightly.

“Relax,” Dash said, “either way, it’s none of my business what you two do.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“That said… I may be able to give you some help,” Dash stated.

Smarty cocked her head. “With Big Mac?”

With a nod, Dash chuckled. “Well, I can tell you what not to do. I did try him out for size last year, but I’m apparently not the one, or something like that.”

“That’s what he told…” Smarty hesitated. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Everyone?” Dash shrugged. “Well, yeah. That’s what he says to all the mares all the time.”

“Thanks for reassuring me,” Smarty said, narrowing her eyes.

“No problem!” Rainbow exclaimed, patting her on the back. The lights began to dim, and the loud voices became hushed whispers. “I think it’s starting…”

“Welcome, one and all!” exclaimed the grey-haired mare walking out onto the stage. “Welcome to the Bachelor’s Buffet! I hope you’re all ready for this year’s selection!”

“Yeah, because last year was terrible,” Dash muttered under her breath.

“As always, have your hooves at the ready!” the mare said, winking. “If you see a stallion you like the look of, you let him know with a wave! At the end of the display, we’ll round up the results and divide accordingly. Now, without further ado… bring on the stallions!” A round of applause surrounded Smarty, as well as the occasional whistle. It was almost deafening, and she instinctively covered her ears. When the noise died down, she noticed she was on the edge of her seat.

“Up first… Caramel!” Another round of applause as the brown colt entered. He smiled sheepishly at the masses before him, blushing as several mares whooped and cheered. “How many of you lucky mares want to raise your hoof?” In response, several hooves shot into the air. Smarty could see Caramel’s forehead glisten with sweat.

“Not a bad one,” Dash said, nodding her head and joining in the applause. “Bit too shy for me. I need someone… out there, you know? Energetic and fast!” She nudged Smarty’s hoof. “You know?”

“Oh, uh, sure. I know, I know,” Smarty lied. She was too occupied waiting for Mac’s name to be shouted across the hall.

“Next up… we have Blue Streak!” A frowning stallion appeared from behind the curtains. He was rather handsome, with piercing, blue eyes and a pure white mane, but he didn’t smile. Smarty couldn’t love a stallion who didn’t smile. A much larger applause than the one before sounded.

“I’ve heard he plays for the other team,” Dash whispered.

“What? What do you mean?”

Dash blinked a few times. “Never mind,” she said, turning back around.

Smarty Pants allowed herself to zone out. A stallion would come out every minute or so, followed by an appropriate applause. Rainbow would then say something, to which she’d try to sound interested in, but by the seventh or eighth stallion—she’d lost count—Smarty was having a hard time pretending. She was only waiting for one stallion, not the entire population of bachelors in Ponyville.

“Well?” Dash repeated, waiting patiently for her word.

“Um, yeah, he was pretty good,” Smarty mumbled.

Dash chuckled. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

“Sorry, I was having a moment,” she said, shaking her head.

“I was asking about how you met Big Mac,” Dash stated. “I mean, you two seem pretty different. I’ve never seen you around here, and Big Mac stays pretty local.”

“We met through my buddy, Twilight. She was meeting with Applejack, and then AJ introduced me to him,” Smarty lied. She said the same sentence over and over again in the mirror every single day.

“That’s funny,” Dash admitted, chuckling. “I could’ve sworn I heard differently from Appleja—”

“What did she say?” Smarty made sure to put on her most serious expression.

Dash was taken aback. “I mean, I could’ve sworn, but I can’t remember.”

“And now, the stallion you all know and love, Big Mac!” Smarty instantly turned her head. He sauntered onto the stage, neither smiling nor frowning, his eyes soft but his glance determined. His strong hooves thudded as they hit the floor. The round of applause was by far the quietest Smarty had heard, and she could even hear the indistinct mumble of the occasional mare whining about not being ‘the one’. She made sure to join in the cheering.

“Well?” Dash asked, poking her. “Aren’t you going to put your hoof up?”

Smarty had almost forgot. She raised her hoof silently, high above the heads of the audience. Much to her surprise, it was the only one in the air. Mares turned their heads from all directions of the town hall. “Who is she?” they whispered. “Doesn’t she know about Big Mac?” Smarty could only make out the occasional remark, but she began to blush. She’d received so much attention in a matter of seconds.

“Smarty Pants?” a soft voice spoke.

She turned to see a look of horror upon Big Mac’s face. Smarty simply shrugged. “What?” The audience erupted into gasps of surprise. Many of the mares’ mouths fell without their knowledge. “What?!” Smarty repeated, growing anxious. She felt a poke by her side. Turning, she found Dash pointing towards another raised hoof.

The hoof in question belonged to a yellow pegasus. She was blushing far more than Smarty was, and her hoof was slightly shaking. It wasn’t hard to see how nervous she was. Smarty looked her up and down, from her frown to her tail. She looked too delicate to be true. It looked as if the smallest gust of wind would carry her far away.

Smarty made the link between the mare’s hoof and her own. She gasped, covering her mouth with her spare hoof. It surprised her that she didn’t think of it sooner. The pair of them were going for Big Mac, both trying to win his heart. They would be in competition for his love.

Silence fell in the town hall. Not a single pony stirred, and both Smarty and the yellow mare kept their hooves high in the air.

“Yeah, Fluttershy!” exclaimed Dash, breaking the insufferable silence. “Go get him!”

The town hall erupted into conversation.

“If what you say is true,” began Rarity, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you any longer.”

“Why?” Smarty asked, pouting slightly.

“Because you and Fluttershy are both my friends,” she admitted. “I cannot appear to have any bias. If it was just another mare, I’d be more obliging, but Fluttershy has been my friend for a long, long time.”

Smarty harrumphed. “I see how it is.”

“I’m sorry,” Rarity tried, “but that’s how it has to be.”

“It’s fine. I understand.”

“That scowl on your face suggests otherwise,” Rarity said, frowning. Smarty put on a cheery smile. “No, no, the emotion is still there.”

“Well, I’m sorry!” Smarty exclaimed. “I’m not exactly in the best of moods. Do you know how well this… Fluttershy matches with Big Mac? She’s quiet and frail, much like him. Not exactly a pony of many words, just like him. Calm and gentle and peaceful, exactly like him.” Smarty’s head fell, her voice barely a whisper. “She is exactly like him.”

“Opposites attract!” Rarity said, trying to smile. “You know, I’ve been friends with many uncouth stallions, but they always…” Her voice faded as she noticed Smarty’s state. It wasn’t exactly hard to see how unhappy she was. Rarity looked away, and then back again. “Listen, you still have this competition to win. Fluttershy will be... an obstacle from this point on for you, but this is for Big Mac.” Rarity patted her on the back. “You can’t lose hope, not even for a second.”

“Are you sure you can’t give me any more help?” Smarty attempted.

“I can’t,” Rarity said simply. Smarty felt her shoulders droop. Rarity tried to say something, but her lips wouldn’t allow it. Peace fell around them, and the unicorn returned to her thoughts. Rubbing her chin, she thought of a solution—a means to stop Smarty’s depression. In another moment, she smiled. “Aha!” she cried, galloping out of the room.

“Rarity?” Smarty called. “Where did you go?”

“Close your eyes, Smarty!” Rarity shouted.

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise!” Rarity exclaimed, giggling.

With a sigh, Smarty did as told, closing her eyes. “Okay, they’re shut tight,” she said. Smarty heard a strange noise in front of her. “Rarity?” she repeated, tilting her head.

“Keep them shut! Do I have to blindfold you?”

Smarty Pants gulped. “No, just get on with it.”

“With pleasure!”

In an instant, Smarty felt something brush against her coat. It was soft—perhaps the softest thing she’d ever touched. “What is that?” she asked. She felt the fabric against her coat again. A loud click came from behind her. “Seriously!” Smarty felt Rarity’s hooves push into her body. She realised the intent, and shifted to the right.

“Now, turn a bit!” Rarity ordered.

“What are you…”

“Okay, perfect! Take a look!”

Smarty opened her eyes, coming face-to-face with herself. Only, it wasn’t just herself. It was a mirror, obviously, but there was something different about her appearance. A polka dot dress covered her back, golden decorations lining the white border of the bottom and top. She turned. White dots interrupted the blue in random spots, matching her Cutie Mark perfectly. The material felt so soft and luxurious on her body, she could’ve sworn she was a queen.

“Whoa…” she said.

“Well, I thought the simplicity would suit you well, Smarty,” Rarity said, shying away. “I thought you wouldn’t like anything too… flamboyant.”

“Thank you so much! It’s… it’s perfect!” Smarty exclaimed, her eyes twinkling.

Rarity smiled. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely!” she cried, turning around. “I love the colour…”

“Designed specifically for you,” Rarity stated, giggling. “I’m glad you like it!”

“Like it? I love it!”

“Good to hear,” Rarity said with a nod of her head.

Smarty felt a pang of guilt. She wiped the smile from her face. “Hang on, are you sure you want me to have this? After what you said about Fluttershy and all.”

“I have made Fluttershy plenty of dresses,” Rarity said. “You, on the other hoof, didn’t have a single one. Please, accept this as my apology.”

“Apology?” Smarty repeated, cocking her head. “I should be thanking you, Rarity!” she exclaimed, throwing her hooves around the unicorn. “This dress is so beautiful! I don’t even know what to say!”

“Think nothing of it. Simply a gift,” Rarity said, smiling warmly.

Smarty pulled away. “Well, thank you, Rarity. You’ve given me some hope. If there’s anything I can do to help you—anything at all—just give me a shout.”

Rarity nodded. “It’s perfectly fine. Now, I do have some work to do. I’m sorry I can’t help you any further, but you must understand, yes?”

“Of course I do,” Smarty said. “I’ll leave you in peace, then.” As gently as possible, she unclipped the dress from behind, making sure to fold it neatly in her hooves. Once it was as compact as possible, she began walking away. “Thanks again, Rarity!” Smarty repeated once more.

“Go get him, darling!” Rarity cried after her.

The air outside was refreshing. Smarty hadn’t even realised how hot it had gotten inside the boutique. Perhaps it was the dress exciting her. It didn’t matter. The breeze on her coat put her at ease, and she began her walk home, dress in hooves. Smarty returned to her happy thoughts. She would win the heart of Big Mac, even without Rarity’s guidance. There was nothing that could stop her, not even the pegasus whose name escaped her.

The competition had officially begun.

My Little Chef

“And now, for the annual cook-off!” Mayor Mare shouted over the ruckus of the audience. Upon hearing her words, the mass of ponies quietened down. “We have the budding chefs in the left corner!” she exclaimed, pointing over to the mares hiding behind ovens and fiddling with utensils. “The hungry, hungry participants in the right!” She pointed to the bored stallions waiting on the tables set out before them. One unfortunate fellow, with the prospect of fifteen meals ahead of him, merely rested his chin on the table, staring into nothingness as a sigh escaped him.

“As they say, the best way to a stallion’s heart is through his stomach!” Mayor Mare announced, chuckling slightly. “Chefs, you have exactly sixty minutes to prepare a meal of your choosing for your… beloved. The use of unicorn magic is completely forbidden, as is the use of wings, though I fail to see how you can use feathers for cooking…” Mayor’s voice trailed off, staring at the ceiling. Coming back to reality, she chuckled, grinning. “Anyway, raise your spatulas or spoons if you’re ready!”

Pushing the chef hat out of her eyes, Smarty gulped before raising her spoon. Her eyes fell upon Big Mac, who was gazing off into the distance. After she had announced her interest in him yesterday, Big Mac had become even more difficult to speak to back at the orchard. In fact, they hadn’t even exchanged a word. It was fair enough, seeing as though it came out of nowhere for him. Of course, she had lied to him a little. Only a little, she dismissed, shaking her head.

“Good, I see you are all ready. Well, without further ado, let the annual cook-off begin!” Mayor shouted, raising her hooves. “I wish you all the best of luck! Start the clock!”

Smarty looked down at the oven as the din of hundreds upon hundreds of utensils clanging together filled the room. She stared into space, losing focus of the world around her. The oven, square in shape, filled her view. She clutched a metallic spoon with her hoof, seeing a tiny, inverted reflection of her frowning face in the corner of her eye. Smarty simply froze like a mannequin. The noises of around her faded, and she was left entirely alone in her mind.

Oh, manure, she thought.

Shaking her head vigorously, she snapped back to reality and plunged herself into action. First, the egg. She couldn’t remember how to prepare an egg correctly, but she’d figure it out. That was the most difficult item on the list of difficult things. There was only one type of food she knew how to make, and that was only learnt from being Twilight’s cooking assistant. Yes, of course she had her own little chef hat. Back then, when she was a doll, and now. She wouldn’t have it any other way, even if she was the only mare in the room with one.

She reached for the eggs. When she was about to smash one down into the bowl, she looked at the eggs more closely. An oval, pale orange in colour, sat on her hoof. In all honesty, Smarty didn’t know how hard to hit the thing. She looked around nervously. Everyone else was too occupied with their meals to notice little, ol’ her, but that didn’t make her feel any better. All it took was one small slip-up for someone to notice. She swallowed her pride before slamming the egg on the table with all her might.

True to the anatomy of the egg, it simply shattered with a rather loud crack, splattering its gooey contents across the table. As soon as she heard the noise, her head turned, checking to see if anyone had seen. She gave a sigh of relief as she reached for a paper towel. Smarty felt eyes bore into her back, and she turned back to find Big Mac watching her for the first time that day.

Of all the times he could watch, it had to be now. Cursing under her breath, she pretended not to notice, quickly looking up to seemingly check the clock above his head. Big Mac’s gaze followed her own, watching the clock with her. Nice recovery, she thought, focusing back on the meal. Once the remains of the egg had been cleaned away, which Smarty had been sure to block Big Mac’s view of with her body, she reached for another egg.

This time, softer, she mentally berated. Smarty gulped before hitting the egg on the side of the table. Much to her satisfaction, it didn’t break open. A tiny crack appeared on the pale orange oval. Slowly but surely, she was getting there. With a couple more taps, she managed to break open the shell and pour the contents into the bowl. Using a fork, she made sure no shards of shell remained in the yolk. Smarty checked on the time, just to be sure.

Ten minutes. She had spent ten minutes on cracking one egg.

Smarty turned so quickly, she could’ve sworn she left a skid mark on the tiled floors. She made a grab for the flour, but upon hitting the bag with a hushed thump, a cloud of white powder flew into the air. It hovered for a second, allowing Smarty to raise her head to see the splendour before it fell downwards, covering her from mane to tail with white dust. She merely huffed. There was no time to tidy herself up, even if the mare beside her was snickering. This was a cook-off, not a fashion contest.

Time was ticking away. Smarty didn’t know how much flour she needed—she could only guess—but if it was too much… well, Big Mac had a big appetite, anyway. Lifting the bag from the bottom, she poured the flour in. Not the entire bag, of course. That would be far too silly. It joined the egg, which had looked rather lonely until then. When Smarty felt there was enough, she put the bag to one side. Her eyes darted towards the salt as a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. She only needed a pinch; it wasn’t exactly difficult. Then again, she had cocked up everything else until that point.

She took the salt shaker in her hoof, eyeing the small holes on the top closely. It was completely foolproof. Tapping it, she made sure the top was secure. She checked there were no cracks in the glass. With a cautious shake of her hoof, Smarty rolled the dice against the gods and goddesses of cuisine, summoning forth a tiny amount of powder. Smarty shrugged. Not that hard. She placed it extra carefully into the bowl, just to be sure.

Next, the milk. She held the jug closely, some of the liquid spilling out of the sides and onto her flour-filled coat, but it didn’t concern her. Smarty tilted the container until she was content with the amount. She also tipped the small cup of water into the mix. Gazing into the bowl, she noticed that her creation didn’t look the most appetising. At least not now. Soon. With the bowl prepared, she poured the contents into the food processor. Luckily, none of the liquid spilt out of the side, like it had before with the milk. She was learning. Eventually.

As she sighed happily, she pressed several buttons and waited until the confounded machine began churning up the liquid before turning back around, a confident smile on her dusty face. Smarty took that as her cue to clean herself up. With a discarded tea towel, she rubbed her face vigourously to remove all the dust that had accumulated on her cheeks. Fortunately, no other pony noticed; they were all too busy with their own meals. She harrumphed, smelling the distinct smell of victory and…

Apple pie? Smarty sniffed at the air again. After living with Granny Smith for only a few weeks, she could recognise the smell anywhere. She glanced around the room, trying to find the source. When it fell upon the yellow pegasus—the one who was competing against her—she snorted. Didn’t Fluttershy know? Big Mac was just as fed up with apple pies as she was. Smarty rubbed her hooves together, chuckling silently. He’s as good as mine… Smarty suddenly shook her head and dismissed the thought. She couldn’t be too cocky. Even in the face of victory.

The machine behind her spluttered and hissed. Gasping, she turned, seeing the mixture leaking out of the top. She slammed her hooves down on the top, shutting the lid securely. The noise echoed around the room, but only a few heads turned in her direction. Once the gawkers had lost interest, Smarty let out a sigh of relief. I am a moron, she thought, her head falling into her hooves. I didn’t even close the lid…

“Half the time is gone, ladies!” Mayor Mare’s voice cried. “Thirty minutes remaining!”

Even though it was impossible to make the old machine go any faster, Smarty tried to find some form of magic button. She sighed, slowly backing away from the processor. It was no use. At least she could try to bolster her confidence. Her eyes wandered over to Fluttershy once more, but before she felt a snigger escape her lips, she saw something that only made her gawk in awe.

With a delicate movement of her hoof, Fluttershy sent the apple spinning into the air. Her other hoof reached for something on the table; the object moved so quickly, Smarty could only see the blur of motion. As the apple began to fall, Fluttershy shifted the object upwards, sending a reflection of harsh, blinding light into Smarty’s eyes. She could only raise a hoof to block the light before both objects collided. From what she could barely see, Fluttershy moved her hoof very precisely around the spinning apple. When the light in her eyes faded away, Smarty saw the perfectly-sized slices of apple collected neatly on the plate below.

Her mouth fell open, and her eyes went wide. The constant noise around her simply fell to a dull murmur. Though she was obviously occupied with processing the sight she’d just saw, she felt a pair of eyes watching her. Smarty’s head tilted upwards, finding Fluttershy staring straight back at her with gentle yet surprised eyes.

A high-pitched note erupted from behind her. Saved by the bell…

With a tap on the plastic container, Smarty checked the mixture. It wasn’t done just yet; she had cooked enough batter in her day to know. A bit of egg hadn’t been properly mixed, thanks to the ancient age of the device. She tutted, turning the machine back on with a push. It spluttered before mixing once more.

Smarty sniffed at the air. Various aromas from other dishes wafted around the room, mixing together in a pleasant scent of fresh bread, hay chips and, well, apples. Of course, that wasn’t to say there wasn’t a fair share of horrible smells. Smarty could taste burnt pastry on the tip of her tongue, and the indistinguishable scent of garlic emanated from the corner of the room. On closer inspection, the source was occupied by a rather muscular mare with a small moustache. She blinked. Definitely not the type of mare you’d want to mess with.

She took a moment to watch the mares struggle away at their meals, who had, only moments before, stared at her with the same intensity. Smarty could see one or two crack under her gaze, falling prey to her menacing glare. Some would smile and wave back, and others would stare daggers. It didn’t make a difference to Smarty—none of them were competing over Big Mac, and the only one who was, Fluttershy, didn’t know she was making a mistake. All according to plan… Smarty thought, rubbing her hooves together and smiling strangely.

Ding!

Turning on the spot, Smarty inspected the food processor. With a discerning eye, she took a closer look at the batter. Satisfied with the texture after poking the liquid with a gentle hoof, Smarty readied the gas hob, turning the knob slightly to the right. She then pressed the button, summoning a ring of blue fire to erupt around the metal disc. Admittedly, it had been a damned good guess on Smarty’s part with igniting the gas. That, or the fact there was a completely inconspicuous image of a flame with the word ‘Ignite’ printed above the button. Either one.

Placing a small bit of butter on the frying pan to melt, Smarty turned to her utensils. She reached for a ladle, submerging it in the viscous mixture before emptying the overqualified spoon over the pan. As soon as the stuff came into contact with the hot metal, it sizzled and spat, covering the entire surface in a blanket of liquid. Smarty was on the solidified batter in seconds, using a spatula to separate the pan from pancake. Once satisfied with the golden colour on the underside after taking a peek, she flipped the premature pancake with a gentle flick of her spatula.

Another sizzle erupted into the air, boosting Smarty’s confidence. She could hear several mares sniffing at the new, beautiful scent entering their nostrils. Some turned their heads, licking their lips. She felt like she was glowing with confidence. With a grin, she raised the pan from the hob, holding it in both hooves. Smarty gave it a little shake for luck before tossing the pancake above her head.

It soared into the air. Time slowed to a standstill. Mares and stallions simply stared. She felt immortal. Gasps of amazement filled the room. The room buzzed with energy. Smarty could see every tiny movement of the pancake. She licked her lips. Needed to focus. Prepared for every rotation. It began falling down. Spinning. Smarty moved her pan from left to right. It needed to be perfect. Big Mac was watching. Turning. Fluttershy was watching. Falling. Everyone in the damned room was watching.

And watch, they did, for that was all they could do when the pancake fell to the ground with an almighty slap.

Smarty simply stared down at the deflated disc, her mouth open in horror or shock. To her, it didn’t make much difference which one. For a while, she didn’t even notice the rest of the ponies in the room staring down at the pancake alongside her. When someone let out a stifled cry of laughter, which was quickly hushed by members of the forming crowd, she came back to reality. Her cheeks blushed a fierce crimson, and she quickly scooped up the remains with the spatula. Smarty opened the bin, placing the late pancake in the unmarked grave.

She felt the eyes of everyone still on her as they scrutinised and judged her. On the verge of tears, she returned to her food processor, pouring more batter into the pan. As it sizzled away happily, free from judgmental society, Smarty found her eyes wandering over to the door. She could just run away from it all—away from the prying eyes and the embarrassment that followed. They didn’t know her. They certainly wouldn’t care when their sweethearts were on the line. Besides, the whole competition was moronic; it was probably created by a lonely, lonely stallion back in the day.

Still, she continued making the pancakes. As the silence was replaced by the various noises of kitchen life, she flipped the pancake with a soft flick of the spatula. Smarty wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Even though she knew Big Mac was aware of her mistake by his passive stare, she kept going. Smarty was only a pony; she made mistakes. At least he would understand and appreciate her humility, as opposed to Fluttershy’s pure skill.

The first pancake was born into the world. Smarty placed it on a plate before grabbing the lemons and bags of sugar on the side of the table. She cut each lemon in half, the sour juices dripping from the knife she used. Squeezing a side gently, a fair amount of the liquid lemon poured onto her work. The pancake was her canvas—the lemon juice being the paint—and Smarty was the artist. With a discerning eye, she dabbed here and there, in all the right places. Of course, it wasn’t perfect, but art never was. Oh, the pains of being an artist.

Once she was content—or, at least, content as can be for an artist—she sprinkled a small amount of sugar over the entire pancake. She had to counter the bitter taste of the lemon juice, of course. Smarty then took one side and folded it into the middle. With a careful hoof, she did the same for the other side, folding it over the other fold. She sprinkled more lemon juice and sugar on top for luck, as one can never have enough.

Her first official pancake was done, but there was still a lot of batter remaining. Sticking her tongue out her mouth, she prepared the next. And then the next. And then the next. Her actions blurred into one as she went into the zone. With each passing minute, the stack of folded pancakes grew one by one. It was on her fifth when the mayor decided to clear her throat. “Five minutes remaining!” she yelled over the numerous cooking instruments. “Get it on the plate before it’s too late! Hey, that rhymed,” she murmured under her breath. Smarty was the only one to hear, as everyone else had gone into hyperdrive.

Five minutes? Plenty of time…

As relaxed as possible, she placed the finished pancake with the other before adding the necessary condiments. Raising a hoof to her chin in thought, Smarty simply looked at the plate. She adjusted each pancake slightly, making sure they were in the perfect place. Reaching into the drawer, she pulled out a knife and fork and placed it on the stack. She paused. Her hoof moved the fork slightly to the left. She stared intently at the plate, as if daring it to move.

“Your time is up!” cried the merry voice of Mayor Mare. “Please, stop whatever you are doing, and step away from the ovens.” The sound of clip-clopping filled the room as Smarty did as told. Her eyes continued staring at the fork—she knew it was now too far to the left, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Damn it! she thought, twiddling her mane.

“Your meal will be collected by our assistants at hoof, and will then be presented to your lucky loved one!” the mayor exclaimed, pointing towards the stallions. They perked their ears instantly at the mention of food, all aside from one in particular. It wasn’t Big Mac, and it wasn’t a stallion Smarty recognised. She then saw the names of fifteen mares and realised before frowning at the prospect. “Once finished, the stallions shall give their reviews, which will be revealed to you tomorrow.” Mayor Mare put on a warm smile as the mass of mares mumbled incoherently. “Until then, I suppose! Of course, the stallions will, from now on, have their private dormitories for the next week, just to prevent any… unfair variables.”

Smarty opened her mouth to argue, but quickly closed it. She thought she had the edge over Fluttershy with the ability to speak with Big Mac back on the orchard, but the logic made sense. It would be unfair when Fluttershy couldn’t talk to him so easily.

A number of mares voiced their concerns, but the mayor was having none of it. “Now, now, ladies!” she cried, her brow furrowing slightly. “This is dictated by tradition, and isn’t up for discussion. It is only fair. Please leave through the doors on the left. We will see all of you again tomorrow, fairly early in the morning, so have a good night’s rest.” Mayor Mare chuckled slightly, rubbing her hooves together deviously before continuing. “You will all need it… for the fashion contest tomorrow.”

Smarty’s eyes went wide as a silent ‘no’ escaped her lips.

“A fashion contest?” Smarty cried to the skies as she walked. “What kind of test is that?”

As per usual, the skies didn’t reply. She cursed at them. Cursed them for being inanimate. It was just unfair. How could she—the pony with the elegance of a drunk pig—even compete? Especially against Fluttershy. It seemed ridiculous to her. Fluttershy seemed so delicate and graceful, Smarty reckoned a weak gust of wind would carry her far away. She paused. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea…

“Forget it!” she exclaimed, stomping at the ground. “Just… forget it.”

The competition seemed so shallow. It was obviously focused on the outward appearance, not something from within. Fashion contests weren’t intended for everyone. They existed for ponies like Fluttershy—ponies with natural elegance. They existed for beautiful ponies. Not like Smarty. She wasn’t beautiful; she was just a dull, grey mare with nothing special on offer. Not like Fluttershy. Why would Big Mac ever want an ordinary mare when he could have Fluttershy?

“Uh… h-hi,” said a distant voice. Smarty let out a cry, her eyes darting left and right. She was ready to gallop away when it spoke again. “D-don’t be scared,” it said, “I’m up here.” Though her instincts begged her not to, Smarty looked up to find a cloud flying low to the ground. She stopped walking and simply gawked at it for a moment.

“Well, hello, mental breakdown!” Smarty cried, waving her hoof frantically at the cloud. She checked the non-existent watch on her foreleg, tutting slightly. “You’re quite late, you know. Might have to report that to the mental breakdown police. I expected you wa-a-ay back, when I was slowly losing my sanity as a doll. You know—”

A yellow head appeared over the side of the cloud, pink strands of hair falling from it. “Wh… what are you talking about?” Fluttershy asked, her hooves clutching the edge as she gazed down.

Smarty blinked. “Nothing.”

An uneasy silence fell between them as they watched each other.

“I, uh, just wanted to say that you make pancakes really well,” Fluttershy said, shying away from the edge.

“Thanks?” Smarty said, cocking her head. She then shook it, realising Fluttershy wasn’t one to mock. “No, I mean, thank you!” she exclaimed, smiling. “I learnt how to make them when I was a… little filly.”

“It shows.”

Another moment of silence.

“You make apple pies really well,” Smarty tried, licking her lips. “When you were cutting those apples, I thought you were a ninja or something.”

Fluttershy giggled. “Thank you,” she said, grinning.

Silence fell.

“Looking forward to the fashion contest?” Smarty asked, hoping the pegasus would simply leave her to her crippling depression.

“Not really,” Fluttershy said. “But at least I have someone to help me.”

Oh, is that so? Smarty thought, raising her eyebrows. “Who would that be, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Rainbow Dash. She’s giving me some… confidence lessons.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Smarty said.

“Thanks.”

Silence.

“Listen,” Smarty said, her ears falling, “between you and me… I don’t think I have a snowball’s chance in Tartarus of winning this thing.”

It was Fluttershy’s time to raise her eyebrows. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know… You just seem perfect for him,” Smarty said, her lips trembling slightly.

“Don’t say that,” Fluttershy said.

“Why? I mean, you’re beautiful. I’m not. You’re elegant. I’m not. You both seem fairly… quiet, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Fluttershy dismissed.

“You are perfect for him,” Smarty said, frowning.

“No.” Fluttershy shook her head. “He decides who is perfect for him.” Fluttershy sighed, looking up into the sky. Smarty kept her eyes trained on her. “I’m not sure which one of us is perfect for him. Neither of us know, but we both know him fairly well, I believe. Big Mac is a… quiet stallion. It’s hard to read his mind. Up until now, I thought you were the perfect one for him, not me.”

“B-but you’re both so similar!” Smarty cried.

“Opposites attract,” the pegasus mused, smiling slightly. “From what I’ve heard about you, you’re smart and funny. You’re impulsive and adventurous, unlike me. He’s the only one who chooses, Smarty, not us. We certainly can’t assume what he likes and what he doesn’t, but we can hope.” Fluttershy paused. “And don’t say you’re not beautiful.”

Another period of silence fell, but it felt right for the pair of them. “Th-thanks,” Smarty finally said, sniffing. “Really, thanks. I... think I needed that.”

Fluttershy smiled warmly. “ No problem. Sometimes, we all do.”

“G-good luck to you, Fluttershy,” Smarty said.

“You, too,” she said. “Nice speaking to you.”

“Thanks again,” Smarty said, turning away. She continued walking down the path, her mind buzzing with thoughts. She wasn’t doomed. At least, not entirely. Fluttershy had given her hope, and that was all she needed at that point in time.

Dash is giving her help? Smarty thought, scratching her head. I wonder how Rarity would feel about that.

Author's Note

Many thanks to Breath of Plagues, without whom, I doubt this chapter would've been published.

My apologies to all of you patiently waiting. It's been hard finding time to write after going back to school, and I certainly haven't been playing a certain game recently. How dare you even suggest that? From now on, I'll get chapters out there faster, though not exactly sure how fast.

Want to vote who wins? Click here. It won't affect the story in any way, but I'm just interested who everyone is rooting for. Also, don't be a dick by voting multiple times. Don't.