Apple Bloom Doesn't Want to Dance
Ulterior Motive
Apple Bloom's heart sank as she stared at the wreckage. What had once been a cider press was now simply a disaster. Charred planks of wood rested on scorched grass. Twisted metal rocked with the breeze. Applejack tossed a bucket of water onto the last burning plank. She looked at her sister with what could best be described as rage. She stared at the blackened apple trees that surrounded the remains of the press. The last scorched leaf in the area fell with the breeze, landing on the burnt grass.
"I'm sorry, Applejack," Apple Bloom pouted, refusing to look her sister in the eye. "I was ju-"
"Family meeting," Applejack growled, her forehooves shaking.
Apple Bloom stared at her sister, her jaw dropped. "I didn't-"
"Family meeting." Applejack turned around. She did not yell, and she did not raise her voice, but the anger was thick in it. "I'll see you in the living room after you've cleaned this mess up."
"How am I supposed to do that?" Apple Bloom called after her sister. She only received silence in turn. She looked back to the remains of the cider press. "I guess I could bury it."
Apple Bloom was covered in soot and dirt when she slinked into the living room. Granny Smith sat in her rocking chair, eyeing the young filly. Big Macintosh and Applejack sat on the couch. Applejack's head hung low. They sat in silence for a few moments, and Big Macintosh nudged Applejack in the ribs. She dusted off her side, and tilted her head to look at her sister.
"Apple Bloom..." She spoke slowly, struggling to find the right words, "I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. It wasn't right of me." She rubbed the back of her head, and looked up at Apple Bloom. "And I guess I should have helped you clean up."
Big Macintosh nodded. It was a much better apology than he had been expecting from her. He was actually quite impressed that it sounded even remotely like an apology. This was far from normal.
"Ok," Apple Bloom sat on the floor, and her ears perked up. "Does this mean I'm no longer in trouble?"
"Shoot fire, it doesn't," Granny Smith spat, and nearly hopped out of her rocking chair, "This is serious. Do you know how hard it is to make a cider press?" Granny Smith paused. "No? I didn't think so." She pointed at Big Macintosh. "Your brother can tell you just how hard it is to make one." She looked back to Apple Bloom. "Do you know why?" She waited until Apple Bloom shook her head. "Because he rebuilt the last one you busted. And the one before that!"
"Big Macintosh had an idea now," Applejack placed a flier on the coffee table, and leaned back into the sofa. "He thinks you need something creative to keep you occupied."
"Eeyup," Big Macintosh nodded. He liked it when ponies repeated something that he had already said. It made it much easier to agree with them.
Apple Bloom looked at the flier in disbelief. It was in black and white, but somehow the pink hue of a dancer's tutu just bled through and into her eyes. Tutu, long socks, slippers, and a tiara. And some writing written in the dreaded Fancy script. She couldn't read it, but the context was still quite obvious to her.
"I'm sorry!" Applebloom hugged Applejack tightly, shaking her with every syllable, "I'll never do it again! I'll never even look at another cider press. I'll go live with Aunt and Uncle Orange if that's what you want. Or Braeburn. Or Babs. I'll become a hermit. I'll do anything that doesn't involve a cider press." She took a deep breath. "But I can't do this!"
"Just try it out for a few weeks, sugarcube," Applejack insisted while prying off Applebloom from around her neck. "Big Macintosh was just telling us that Thunderlane takes his little brother to that studio, and he loves it."
"Eeyup," Big Macintosh agreed. He found it wonderful to not have to repeat himself. Especially when he was basically agreeing with himself. It was a wonderful system really.
"I can't," Apple Bloom slammed a hoof down, "I can't and I won't. There is nothing in Equestria that can make me go."
The next day, Big Macintosh sat in an uncomfortable folding chair, surrounded by single mothers. Apple Bloom was on stage with six other fillies, most of them younger than her. A particularly red faced colt was also on the stage. It was very evident that he was not actually enjoying himself. But Big Macintosh was inattentive to that fact.
Thunderlane gave Big Macintosh a nod from across the room. Big Macintosh responded in kind. No words were needed for this event, he understood a nod of approval when he saw one. He returned his gaze back to the stage. Thunderlane had previously explained to him that a certain etiquette was required of this kind of thing. You had to appear attentive, otherwise there would be no catch of the day.
"Is that one yours?" A slightly older mare asked, leaning in so as to almost touch his muzzle.
"She's my sister," He explained, grinning at the crowd of mares around him.
The single mothers pressed around him, each trying to get as close to him as possible. Big Macintosh smiled to himself, he would have to thank Thunderlane for this lead.