Nemo crawled through the hallways. A myriad of ponies filled them. All sorts squished into one building. Unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, and maybe even a few griffons all under one roof. It was utter chaos, as a certain draconequus would say. The walls were a bland tan, the floor tiled white. It was the type of design the interior designers had nightmares about. Nemo certainly had nightmares, though not of the same origin.

Unsure of what to do, he weaved his way to the nearest door. Above the door, there read the name “Ms. Heart” in black letters. He peered inside the doorway and, to his surprise, saw Mea. This must be his classroom. With the same tan walls, it screamed “public institution.” He gingerly walked in, careful not to attract much attention. Mea had other ideas.

Immediately upon entering, Mea sprinted to his side, pointing out the obvious and not-so-obvious around the room. The fish tank was an honest surprise to him; other than that, nothing really caught him off guard. All was as expected, a miserable little hole in the wall filled with complete strangers. What more could he want from a school? Maybe an immediately-apparent bathroom, but Nemo could think of nothing else.

Bells rang though the hallways. Mea was forced to her seat, relieving Nemo of his situation, and into a new one. The teacher standing in front of the class was Ms. Heart, a stereotypical-looking unicorn teacher with a hoarse voice. The scratchiness of it made nearly everypony wince, a trait that would remain for the next few weeks. She called everypony’s name out, one by one. “Salt Pinch” she called out, to be replied with a slightly Prench “Here!” “Frater Price” she continued. Nemo got bored listening to the teacher listing all the ponies that were all in the same increasingly-claustrophobic room.

After about 30 seconds, though, his attention snapped back to the hoarse teacher. “Nemo… um, Carrot?” she half-asked. “Actually, it’s pronounced Curat, as in coo and rot.” “Very well then,” Ms. Heart stated condescendingly, “Nemo Curat.” Nemo gulped. He had already gotten on the mares bad side. “Parva Manna.” “Here!” At least class continued; it moved along like a tugboat, slow yet steady.

“Now class, calm down. Thank you. So as you may know, this class is less about teaching and more about learning. More specifically, learning your special talent is the main goal of this class. In all actuality, that is what half the school system is about, your special talent.” Why Ms. Heart insisted on speaking to them as if they were teenagers has yet to be discovered. Maybe she was a high school teacher. Yes, that was it, she was a high school teacher. “Now if you would, please turn your attention to the easel up front. This is a portrayal of my cutie mark. As evident, it displays a chalkboard and some chalk. This signifies my talent of teaching. Now, for our first exercise, we shall take a gander at some other cutie marks, and identify the talent of the one who adorns such a mark. Please split into pairs. Of two, thank you very much. No, Salt, you may not join Mr. Re.”

Mea bounced over to the lump of melancholy. “May I join you?” she inquired. “Fine, but…” “Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” cut off the ecstatic mare, “you will not regret it. I have a feeling that we are going to become, like, best friends.” Yay, he thought, I’m positive we’ll mix well. As well as gasoline and fire. Meanwhile, Ms. Heart was recollecting the class.

“Class, eyes forward. Thank you. Now, please direct your attention to the papers in front of you. On these papers are various marks covering an assortment of talents and pony-types. Please try your best to identify the various talents. You may begin.” In front of them appeared papers with pictures on them, thanks to Ms. Heart’s magic.

The first one was obvious to him. It was Daring Do’s compass. Everyone knew her cutie mark. Next up were three red and white balls. Three seemed to be a common theme though the exercise, which lasted the rest of the class day. Nemo disliked it, identifying what he didn’t have. It felt like it was mocking him. Of course, he felt that way about a lot of things, so he dismissed it as himself getting worked up. Mea disliked it because it was boring. Then again, she found a lot of things boring. Yup, they mixed as well as oil and soap; kind of, but not really.

The last one was really hard, seven bubbles. Nemo was puzzled, but figured that the owner knew, so he didn’t need to know. The bell rang once again though the hallways, to the relief of the class. With an audible sigh, the teacher dismissed them, reminding them to show up the next day. That was apparently a problem. He dashed through the hallways, almost knocking over several foals and fillies. He ran outside to the bus, only to find Mea already on it. This filly would not leave him alone. To her credit, she was the nicest one there, as far as he could tell. She seemed genuinely concerned. Still, Nemo had a bad feeling about this school thing.

The bus ride back was relatively eventful, compared to the morning ride. Mea was the reason; her rambling could be distributed as a podcast. The gray foal paid no attention to her, so he might have needed that podcast. He stepped off of the bus toward his house. He could hardly call it a home, but it was shelter, shelter to his self-diagnosed depression. He walked up to the door and extended his hoof, opening the next door. There really was no turning back.

Author's Note

So, this chapter... I would appreciate any feedback, even "I hate this crap, why are you even trying?"
Also, I am apparently in love with commas.
I am a surprisingly good at rambling on, in case you couldn't tell.
Thank you for reading, since you cared enough to read this.
Also, I must edit this story. I must.