Equestria Girls: The Looking Glass World of Cheese and Pie

Chapters

Cake, Pie, and Cheese
Mage and Magician
It's For Your Own Good
Dash, Flash, and Dust
Mirrors, Confrontations, and Explosions
Happy Birthday, Pinkie Pie
Breaking the charm
Down The Rabbit Hole
Stable Goat
Only When It's Funny
Vice Principals, Virtual Portals
The Fun Has Been Doubled
Methought I Was, And Methought I Had
Make A Wish, It's Your Birthday
Epilogue: Where Are They Now?

Cake, Pie, and Cheese

“But I can do it myself! I’ve proven I can be responsible, haven’t I?” wailed Pinkie Pie, hugging her knees as she perched on one of the squishiest chairs. “It’s my middle name—Pinkie Responsibility Pie. I mean, look at me now! The Cakes are letting me run the whole bakeshop today!”

True, but on this wet Sunday, there was little to do. The bakery section of The Sugarcube was relatively quiet on this March day, especially since a heavy downpour had started a few hours ago. The wind was blowing the rain into sheets, sweeping down the streets in downtown Canterlot, and the power lines were swaying wildly. Most people weren’t venturing out at all, and those who had were tucked away in the coffeehouse section of Sugarcube, nursing a latte and texting their friends. A few customers came into the bakeshop for a box of cookies or cupcakes from time to time, but it was otherwise mostly empty. A small group of girls monopolized one of the few tables tucked away in a corner, lounging on the only couch, or seated in battered but comfy chairs that had become too shabby for the coffeehouse.

“We know, darlin’,” said a blond girl sitting next to her, “and you’re doing a great job, but the Canterlot Cake Festival’s gotten too big for any one person to manage alone. It’s not just a local thing anymore. We’ve got people coming in from other cities, more exhibitors—and that means more acts and who knows what all. If the Cakes can’t do it all by themselves, then you can’t. And it’s not good for you when you get all stressed out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pinkie Pie said, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I mean, I guess it isn’t good for anybody when they get all stressed out, especially Rarity,” Pinkie Pie conceded, “because her eye goes all weird, like this.” One cheek and eye began to tic violently. “But you mean it’s bad for anyone to get stressed out, and you don’t mean just me, right, Applejack?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Applejack. “Point is, you’re gonna need an assistant to pick up whatever you can’t do.”

“Well, I can’t do it,” said Rainbow Dash, swinging one high-topped leg back and forth over a couch arm. “Soccer captain, I’m lined up to coach Little League—sports at CHS pretty much stop without me. We’re gonna hand Griffon Central’s tail back to them on a silver platter. Oh, and there’s my grades,” she added as an afterthought, “but yeah—the Cake Festival’s gonna have to do without my awesome.”

“I’ll help with some of the baking,” said Applejack, “but spring’s a real busy time for us at the farm.”

“And at the Rescue Center,” said Fluttershy, wringing her hands. “All those unwanted kitties—it hurts just thinking about it. We might even have bottle babies this time, and I couldn’t take time away from them. I’m really sorry, Pinkie Pie. Please say you’re not mad at me.”

“Well, no, DUH, because you’re one of my bestest besties, Fluttershutter,” said Pinkie, throwing one arm around her shy friend and hugging her until she squeaked, “plus adorable kitties, and I don’t need an assistant, so I don’t even know what everybody’s talking about.”

“I don’t suppose Rarity would be Pinkie’s assistant?” Fluttershy said hesitantly. “She said she was going to volunteer.”

“Huh,” snorted Applejack. “If I know Rarity, she’s gonna try to get someone else to volunteer.”

The bell above the shop door jingled, and a girl with lilac and white streaked hair stepped into the shop. Everything about her shrieked “expensive,” from her shoes, to her fur trimmed coat, to the crown-like hairpiece that sparkled on her head, and even the tiny dog she was carrying in her purse. None of her clothing was even slightly damp, which strongly suggested that just outside stood a chauffeur with an umbrella. As the door opened, the girls could hear snatches of conversation, including the voice of their friend Rarity:

“So would you be a dear and oblige a lady?”

“Toldja,” murmured Applejack.

“Ahem,” the expensively-dressed girl said.

“Oops,” said Pinkie Pie. “Customer! Better see what she wants!” She jumped straight up from her squishy chair, tied on a large white apron with a heart-shaped bib, and landed directly behind the counter in one extended bounce.

“Probably the moon on a stick,” called Rainbow Dash, not bothering to lower her voice.

Diamond Tiara might have heard that, or perhaps she was just naturally irritable, because she snapped, “Well, finally.”

“Hiya!” said Pinkie Pie with a bright smile. “Do you want cupcakes? Or cookies? Or we have cupcakes with Oreos on them, which are kinda cupcakes and cookies at the same time, but nobody ever thinks about it like that, isn’t that weird? Of course, if they were cookies, then we wouldn’t sell them, because Mr. and Mrs. Cake are really, really strict about making everything from scratch, and everything’s really great today, except for the peanut butter cookies,” she added behind her hand, in a stage whisper that could probably be heard across the street, “because I helped burn them myself. I told you they were giving me a lot more responsibility these days,” she added, for her friends’ benefit.

The bell jingled again, and this time Rarity entered, carrying an umbrella with a lace pattern on it, and followed by a tall, skinny boy wearing a black raincoat and hat. He carried a large, heavy-looking black case, and so much water poured off him that he was quickly standing in the center of a puddle.

“Isn’t it much nicer to be dry?” said Rarity sweetly. “I’m sure you’d rather be dry while you explain why you can refuse a perfectly reasonable request.”

“Oh, no,” said the boy, both hands up in defense. “I don’t care if it’s like a party or it is a party, I still don’t do parties. I don’t want anything to do with parties.”

“That’s such a shame,” said Rarity. “I am usually so good at finding hidden gems, and I’d simply assumed because I’d seen you playing that—that thing at the train station, that you must have some abilities. Well, if you aren’t any good at running parties or being amusing . . .” She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrors running around the walls of the bakeshop, and gasped. “My poor hair! The sacrifices one makes for friends.”

“Hey, who said I wasn’t any good at running parties or being amusing?” protested the boy. “I’m very amusing. See?” A small ball rolled out from the sleeve of his raincoat, followed by another, and another, and another, until there were five. He juggled them one-handed, seemingly without looking at them.

Diamond Tiara sniffed. “I’ll take one of the blackout cupcakes.”

“Okey-dokey! I wonder why we don’t have any whiteout cupcakes. If there are blackout cupcakes, there should be whiteout cupcakes, and anyway, blackout cupcakes aren’t really black, they’re brown.”

The skinny boy shook his head slightly, as though he were trying to get water out of his ear. One of the balls he was juggling hit the floor, but he caught it as it bounced up. All five balls disappeared back up his sleeve.

Pinkie Pie bent down and slid out the tray slightly to pick up a cupcake. “Not that one,” snapped Diamond Tiara. “That one’s slightly smeared. I want a perfect cupcake. One of the ones in the front.”

“Okay, okay,” said Pinkie Pie. “Geez, Louise.” She disappeared entirely as she dove down to slide out the tray.

“It’s such a shame that you don’t feel it’s important to give back to the community,” said Rarity.

“I’d like two, actually,” said Diamond Tiara, leaning against the glass case. “I want one as a sample, so that one has to be perfect. And I want them each individually wrapped.”

It was impossible to discern exactly what Pinkie Pie said in reply, but the boy shook his head again, like a dog hearing a whistle inaudible to humans, before going on to say, “Give back to the community? I just got here last week! I don’t know if word gets out or what, but I can’t volunteer for anything, I can’t – I don’t want anything at all to do with parties, and – ”

“Here ya go!” piped Pinkie Pie, popping up from behind the glass case like a jack in the box.

The boy froze. His eyes went straight to the pink hair, extra frizzy from the humidity in the air, and his jaw quite literally dropped. “I volunteer.”

Rarity, taken back, said, “I thought you said you didn’t want anything to do with parties.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He strode forward to the counter with a bright, slightly manic smile, and stuck out his right hand.

“Excuse me? I’m waiting for my cupcakes to be individually wrapped,” began Diamond Tiara, but her hands were suddenly full of dripping wet hat, thrust at her by someone who hadn’t even looked at her. “Ew!”

The boy was so tall and Pinkie was so comparatively short that he had to reach across the counter and down to shake her hand. “Hi. I’m Cheese Sandwich. And I just volunteered for it, whatever it is.”

“Usually volunteers are met with shrieks of joy. I didn’t expect a job interview,” complained the boy. “I’m starting to rethink this.”

Despite his protestations, he’d made himself entirely at home. The raincoat was draped out and drying on a nearby hard-backed chair, the hat was hanging on the post of another, and his long legs were propped up on the large black case he’d brought in. His brown hair, which had been virtually flattened with water, turned out to be curly and dense, and as it dried, it bunched, puffed, and settled until it was uncannily like Pinkie Pie’s. And he was virtually inhaling almost every kind of baked good in the place.

Few people could help liking this particular group of friends. They went out of their way to be friendly to any new student or stranger, even a stranger like this, who seemed very strange indeed. Pinkie, on the other hand, sat back in her chair, arms crossed, every line in her body radiating skepticism. For his part, he seemed determined to make an impression. Almost any kind of impression would do.

“I should have known it. Practically the minute I get someplace, someone grabs me and says, “ ‘you look like the kind of person who would like to plan a party.’ I can almost tell it’s coming on.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Applejack. “Why would someone ask a complete stranger to plan a party?”

“Why not? Your friend just did.” He turned to Rarity. “I looked up, saw you standing there, and thought to myself, ‘Cheese, there stands a girl who is about to ask you for a teeny-weeny favor. And it’s going to be a party, because it always is.’ Thing is, though, I can’t—I mean, I’m not really interested in parties anymore.”

“Well, all righty then!” said Pinkie Pie, with a toothy smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That works out just absotootly-lootly fine. You don’t want to throw parties, and I don’t need an assistant, because I can do it all myself. And pshht, if you say you don’t even like parties, how good of a party planner can you be?”

His eyebrows knit. He swung each leg down from the case, and slid forward in his chair.

“Try me,” he said, cracking his knuckles.

“Oh, yeah?” said Pinkie Pie, sliding forward in her own chair and leaning in until they were practically nose-to-nose. “I bet I can beat you, party for party.”

“Wish I had popcorn,” muttered Rainbow Dash. “I saw something like this in one of those Westerns Applejack made me watch.”

“Shh!” said Fluttershy, trying not to bite her nails.

“Vanhoover Regatta,” Cheese began, ticking off parties on his fingers.

“Fall Formal Crown," Pinkie flung back.

“Alumni Association.”

“Spring Fling.”

“Alumni Association.”

“You just said that,” Pinkie Pie pointed out.

“No, different Alumni Association. That would have been . . .” he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, clearly trying to remember, “ . . . right before the second time I was ‘asked to withdraw’ from school. Or maybe it was the first. I still say the Conga line was a great idea. It seemed like a good idea at the time. How was I to know so many of the alumni needed hip replacements?”

“You know that girl who was in the shop when you came in?” said Pinkie Pie, with the satisfaction of one playing a winning card. “I planned her birthday party. And she liked it,” she added, sliding back in her chair.

Cheese blinked. “What girl? Oh. That girl. I’m impressed. I bet it’s hard to make her happy.”

“You have no idea. Anyhoo, I’m really, really busy with all the planning I have to do.” Pinkie Pie rose and flicked invisible flour off her apron. “Thanks, Rarity, for finding me an assistant, but I don’t need one. Sorry for wasting your time.” She turned as though she were headed for the kitchen.

Applejack glanced over at Rarity. “What ails Pinkie Pie?” she said, scratching her head. “She usually wants to make friends with everybody.”

“I’m afraid I wounded her pride,” murmured Rarity. “Oh, dear.”

“Wait!” exclaimed Cheese Sandwich, leaping to his feet. “I gave my word I’d help. Didn’t I?” He held one arm out to the group of girls, and his eye met Fluttershy’s, as though he instinctively knew that she’d be his best support.

“Um, yes,” said Fluttershy.

“See? I don’t break Cheesy Promises, ever.”

Pinkie Pie stopped in her tracks, then turned around slowly, as though she were really seeing him now. “No promises? Ever? Cross your heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in your eye?”

“Swear on Camembert. I’m totally serious. Look, I gave up parties for good this time, and I don’t need to be any kind of official co-planner or assistant. In fact, I’d rather not. I’ll just help. Tell me what you need done, and I’ll do it.”

“What I couldn’t do with an offer like that,” sighed Rarity.

“Here’s a shovel, straight to the pigpen,” agreed Applejack.

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Rarity retorted.

“Well,” Pinkie Pie said at last, “if you promise you’ll really just help, then okey-dokey-lokey.” She sat back down at the table, and Cheese followed suit, swinging his legs back up on the case.

“I’d better make a few notes,” he said, and pulled a pen and a large clipboard out of his bushy hair. “Let’s get organizing.”

“The Cake Festival really started as a way for the Cakes to promote The Sugarcube,” Applejack explained. “ A lot of people just came in for the coffee and hardly realized there was this whole bakery back here and that they baked everything themselves.”

“And that everything’s from scratch and great ingredients and totally yummy,” added Pinkie Pie. Cheese said something inaudible through a mouthful of crumbs. “See?”

“I remember the first one,” said Applejack. “They set it up on the high school grounds. Just a couple of booths, a cake-making contest, a cake eating contest—"

“Which I totally would have won if I’d been living here,” said Rainbow Dash.

“No way,” said Pinkie Pie. “Nobody eats goodies faster than me!” She hurled a cookie into the air and got most of it in her mouth. Rarity shuddered at the display of bad manners.

“In any case,” Rarity said, “it’s become far more important than that now. There are several cake judging competitions, entertainment—it’s become a little bijou town festival. Last year they sent a travel writer from Manehattan. He did a profile of the entire town, and even mentioned the boutique.” She sighed. “I’m sure they would have included that photograph of me if there had only been room.”

“It’s more than the Cakes can do now, especially with the twins, and they decided I’m totally the girl for the job!” exclaimed Pinkie. “Kinda,” she added, frowning. “Still,” she said, brightening up again, “I’m in charge. I’m sure they want some more help, and they were probably going to give tons of advice on what they want anyway. I know all about the kinds of cake they like to showcase and the stuff for the baking contests, ‘cause I live here and I see it every day.”

Cheese swallowed. “In a bakery?” he asked, surprised.

“No, above it. With the Cakes, of course. And I’m great at party decorations, too, so I guess you can help find music and entertainment acts. We’ll have to be picky this year,” she said. “At least, I hope so.”

“That,” muttered Rainbow Dash, “or we’re just gonna wind up with Flash Drive again.” She mimed an electric guitar. “Oooooo,” she wailed, “sa-a-a-ve them whales, they’ve only got yooooo in their sails, they make friends with their tails, this song totally fails, but save them whales.”

Cheese stared in horror, like a rabbit at an oncoming truck.

“Rainbow!” Fluttershy scolded. “That was a beautiful, beautiful song Flash Sentry wrote.” All of her friends looked at her incredulously. “Anyway, he meant well,” she admitted, “and it was nice for the poor whales. We got four whole dollars to help whale habitats.”

“Well, if you really want me to find entertainment acts for you,” Cheese said, as he stood up and stretched, “you’ll probably want me to audition.”

“Huh?”

“You can’t know if I can pick out good stuff unless you know what I can do, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but began unsnapping the clasps of the case he’d brought with him, and extracted a full sized piano accordion.

“Oh, do let’s,” agreed Rarity. “He’s really rather good. Play that French one,” she suggested. “It’s very nice and atmospheric.”

“Um,” Cheese said, looking down and fussing with the keys, “I think maybe I’ll stick to polka this time.”

“Oo!” said Pinkie. “My favorite!”

Hers seemed to be the deciding vote, because Cheese swung into a lively polka. Pinkie Pie, tired of sitting in one place so long, couldn’t resist the impulse to dance.

If an observer had happened along just then and glanced through the shop window, he would have seen what looked like several scenes at the same time, as though different sets of images were overlaying others and fighting for prominence. A skinny boy and a dancing, skipping girl—lederhosen, juggling, and for some reason, enormous wheels of Swiss cheese—some things so inhuman that they simply could not have been there--and then there was just a skinny boy and a laughing girl again, and our hypothetical observer would have found himself in need of a swift drink.

Cheese stopped playing, and the girls applauded, Pinkie Pie jumping up and down. Then she stopped herself.

“Pretty good,” she admitted. “I can play ten times as much, though.” When Cheese looked inquiringly at her, she added, “I have a one-girl band suit. It’s got everything on it!”

“I want to see that,” Cheese said, eyes sparkling, and then noticed the darkness outside the windows. “Oh, Stilton. I was supposed to be back already. Probably hours ago.” He hastily began putting the accordion back in its case. “I don’t get a lot of time off, so maybe tomorrow we can talk about when we can meet—and how. That’s a thing, too. I have to keep a low profile. Do you all have fourth period lunch?” They nodded and said that they did, and he began snapping back the clasps on the case.

“Wow,” said Pinkie Pie, looking at the devastation on the table. “That sure is a lot of crumbs.” She ran off to get a push broom.

“Oh, boy,” muttered Cheese. “I had no idea how much I was eating. Hold it—I do have it, though.” He opened the case again quickly and pulled out a bag. “Do you think change is ok?” He started pulling out handfuls of quarters, piles of dimes, and twisted dollar bills, and looked down into the bag. “Enough left for bus fare!” he cheered. “That’s great.”

“Uh, can I drop you anywhere?” said Applejack. “I’ve got the truck just around the way, and it’s no trouble.”

“No, no,” said Cheese hurriedly, pulling on his raincoat. “I mean, thank you. The rain’s stopped, and I actually prefer the bus. I’ll, um—see all of you tomorrow.” He grabbed his accordion case, stood there for a moment, and then walked towards the door backwards, waving, before he turned and left.

Pinkie came back with the broom. “Is he gone already? Aw,” she said, as her eye fell on the pile of change, “I wasn’t going to let him pay. Here, Fluttershy,” she said, waving at the pile, “take it for the whales or something.” She began brushing up the crumbs.

“So you’ve got yourself an assistant, huh?” said Rainbow Dash. “We could all use one of those, I bet.”

“Well, I certainly could,” agreed Rarity, “and I’m sure Fluttershy could use some help scrubbing cages.”

Applejack lifted her mug of hot chocolate. “Here’s to assistants,” she said, and clinked with everyone else.

“And to Cheese Sandwich,” Fluttershy insisted.

“I know his name,” murmured Pinkie Pie as she swept.

Author's Note

A month or more in the making, believe it or not. Here at last is the CheesePie Equestria Girls fic I've been promising. I commissioned that art from Quere and began working that long ago.

A few notes on the universe:

This is the Equestria Girls universe, specifically the world of Canterlot High School. I thought that EG would be greatly improved with Cheese Sandwich in it, especially if he were with Pinkie Pie, and then I decided to make it be so, because that's what fanfic is for. I also thought the Equestria Girls universe would be a challenge!

It's canon up through the end of Equestria Girls. If you saw that, you know what that means: no Twilight Sparkle, and therefore no Flashlight. Flash and Twilight exchanged whatever flirtation you saw onscreen, and then she went home to Equestria. Sunset Shimmer remains Flash's ex. There aren't going to be any other ships, so you won't find anything to contradict your favorites or force something you don't like on you, unless of course, you don't like CheesePie. I can't help you there.

A few minor tweaks from the EG 'verse, and I don't think they're enough to make it AU, but you be the judge.

There's no magic in the EG world of Canterlot, or at least, nothing that anyone recognizes. No one remembers the events of the Fall Formal very well except for Principal Celestia, Vice-Principal Luna, Sunset Shimmer, and of course the Humane Five. The recent book implies that lots of people see the magical girl transformations of the Humane Five, but so far, that hasn't been true in the shorts. The only people present have been Vinyl Scratch, who seems to have her own magic, and Trixie, who thinks she does.

The story takes place after Equestria Girls, the following spring, from the middle of March to June 10th. That will overlap with Rainbow Rocks, probably.

And of course, I've added Cheese Sandwich and some of my personal mythology of Party Pony Magic, because even the "human" world of Equestria Girls needs more party ponies!

Mage and Magician

Pinkie Pie stood on her chair, waved both arms like an air traffic controller, and shrieked “OVER HERE!”

It was taking a while for Cheese to make his way across the cafeteria. He’d clearly done something to make other students decide that the new guy was hilarious, and couldn’t resist showing off. Little musical runs and tweets were coming from his direction. He also seemed to be having a hard time finding them, until Pinkie Pie reached the limit of her patience and screamed.

She jumped over one chair to make room, and Cheese slid up, with a heavy backpack slung over one shoulder, a tray that was literally bending because it had so much food on it, and a harmonica in his mouth.

“Heya, Cheese! You made it!” squeaked Pinkie. “Are you up for some serious planning?”

He dropped the tray, the backpack, and himself into the spot between Pinkie Pie and Applejack, spat out the harmonica, and slid it into the pocket of his loud yellow shirt.

“Yep! But, um—not this afternoon. I won’t be able to meet after school. I have detention. Sorry.” He began to attack the mass of food in front of him. He wasn’t particularly gross or sloppy about it, but the sheer amount of it obviously horrified Rarity, who was looking anywhere but at Cheese.

Applejack was used to hearty appetites. Something else had caught her attention. “Detention? Already?”

“Oh, no. What happened?” said Fluttershy, picking delicately at her salad.

“Yeah, what did you do?” asked Rainbow Dash, pushing off the table and teetering on her chair. “Because there is no way you didn’t do something, so I hope it was worth it.”

Cheese frowned. “I’ve got Mr. Doodle for homeroom. I think he has anger management issues. First, he didn’t like it that I brought my accordion along with me.”

“Now why in the wide world would you do a thing like that for?”

Pinkie and Cheese exchanged glances, and then turned to Applejack and gave her a long, incredulous look.

“In case of an emergency!” said Pinkie, and Cheese gestured towards her in a silent “you see?” “You never know when you might need an accordion. Someone might be in a bad mood.”

“Exactly,” said Cheese, and they fist-bumped.

“Sounds as though you put him in a bad mood instead,” said Applejack.

Cheese had begun inhaling food again, and had to swallow before answering. “Well, that’s true, but I didn’t know that. I figured a harmonica was smaller than my accordion and tried playing that instead, but that didn’t make him any happier, and I had to start juggling to cheer him up. Then he was really mad, and suddenly I had detention. It wasn’t a dead loss, though,” he said, smiling, “because I cheered a lot of other people up. I could tell, because when he kicked me out and told me to take my accordion and lock it up in the band room, they were giving me the thumbs up under their desks.”

“But now your accordion is locked up.”

“I’m not so thrilled about that,” he admitted, “but Miss Octave came out of her office and saw me leaving it there. She said she understood about wanting to keep your instrument nearby, so she gave me a copy of the keys to the band room and the closet. Best music teacher ever.”

“Y’know,” said Applejack, “for someone trying to keep a low profile, you’re off to a bad start.”

Cheese nodded. “I know. And even if I don’t have detention, after school is going to be tough anyway. They keep pretty close tabs on me. If I’m going to be late, or don’t go straight back from school, I need a really good excuse. Detention on the first day is only going to make it worse.”

“Extracurricular activities?” suggested Fluttershy.

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m not – well, I’d prefer not to give the impression that I’m in them, that’s all.” He leaned back in his chair and began juggling his fork and spoon. “For some reason,” he said, adding first Pinkie’s spoon and then Pinkie’s fork to the assortment, “they think I can’t focus. I get to do less and less all the time. I miss swing dancing.”

Pinkie snatched one of the forks and added Fluttershy’s spoon, too, so that five pieces of cutlery were whizzing around their heads. “Lucky. You got to do that?”

“Not for too long, and it was a few years ago,” Cheese replied, turning to Pinkie. The juggling was now going on one-handed and neither of them was paying attention. “That was the last co-ed school I was at. I guess they think I’ll get into less trouble at all-boys’ schools. Ha! They’re even worse.”

Applejack coughed. “Uh—who’s ‘they?’ ”

“But you know what I really want to do?” said Cheese, catching each fork and spoon in turn and spreading them out in a line. “Aerials.”

“Oooo. Me too!” squeaked Pinkie. “Like when the girl gets to flip over and go up in the air like this!”

She rocketed straight up from where she was sitting, blowing a noisemaker. Her classmates barely even noticed the way she hung in the air far too long before crashing back down, and her friends, except for Fluttershy, didn’t bat an eye. Rainbow Dash merely rolled her eyes and said, “Pinkie, you’ve never done any swing dancing.”

Pinkie had fished a cookie out of her pocket and had already bitten into it. “I’ve watched it on TV, though,” she said, spraying crumbs. “How hard can it be?”

“Who’s ‘they?’” insisted Applejack, sticking to her original point. “You keep saying ‘they’ won’t let you do this and ‘they’ won’t let you do that—who’s ‘they?’ And by the way, you said that was the last co-ed school you were at. How many schools have you been to?”

He began building the forks and spoons into a little tower, avoiding Applejack’s eyes. “Um—three. Or maybe it was four. I’ve never been expelled—just a suggestion that I’d be a better academic fit somewhere else.”

“Wow,” said Pinkie. “You must have been to lots of different kinds of parties!”

He turned back to Pinkie, leaning on one elbow, eyes wide and glinting, with a wild grin. “Planned them, Pinkie. I planned them. Every school I’ve been to, someone grabs me and asks me to plan a party, and by gosh, I make sure everyone has a super-duper fun time. And then everyone has too much fun, and before I know it, I’m in big trouble.” He gulped. “I admit it. I love parties, but I guess you could say I have a party problem.”

“Have you ever heard of a party cannon?”

“Four schools?” said Rarity.

“Because I’ve always really, really, really wanted a party cannon.”

“Um--call it five, including this one. And I really have to graduate this time.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“I’ve heard a few options,” he said, looking away from Rarity this time, “and none of them are nice. So that’s why I said ‘low profile.’ Just a hint that I’m involved in planning a party wouldn’t be good.”

“Then don’t call it a party, silly,” said Pinkie Pie. “Call it a . . . a . . .”

“A civic festival,” finished Rarity. “A well-regarded civic festival.”

“That’s a great idea,” said Applejack. “It’s no more than the truth.”

“And I’m in charge of everything anyway,” Pinkie pointed out, “decorations and food and everything. You said you wanted to help, and I asked you to help find entertainment for me. So if you’re looking for people to perform, who’s to say you’ll be there? You’re just finding people who will.” She seemed to feel that this covered everything, because she pulled a bubble bottle from somewhere and began blowing bubbles towards Rainbow Dash, who expertly dodged out of the way. The bubbles floated past her and popped over the table currently occupied by the CHS soccer team. A blue haired boy in a Wondercolts tracksuit stared unhappily as bubble after bubble landed on his piece of pie and burst.

“Huh,” said Cheese, watching the bubble trail. “That’s completely unbelievable, so it might work. But there’s still the scheduling problem. I don’t know what time I actually have.”

“Pull out your schedule,” said Applejack, “and let’s have a look.”

“Aw,” said Pinkie, reading the list. “We’re not in any of the same classes. And you have a lot of them.”

“Some of them are repeats,” he admitted. “That’s why the only excuse that will work is ‘extra tutoring’ or ‘study sessions’—something like that. I’ve been told Vice Principal Luna is supposed to report back if I try to get away with anything. Is she likely to notice?”

All the girls looked at each other, but it was Fluttershy who said, “Um—Vice Principal Luna notices everything.”

“Best not to lie to her,” agreed Applejack. “So just don’t. Why not go ahead and do tutoring and study sessions?”

“Yeah!” said Rainbow Dash, lighting up. “I do those! That’s how I stay on the Wondercolts. You don’t have to show up every day or stay the whole time or anything. You can say it’s for study and then have practically the whole afternoon. I do it all the time.”

“So it’s really just a question of stretching the truth a tiny bit,” said Rarity, “as long as you pass the exams. That should be easy if you’re good at any of these subjects. Are you? Good at anything?”

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Cheese finally said, tentatively, “ . . . English? It’s basically spelling and making stuff up. And drama. And music. And that’s about it.”

Rarity sighed. “In other words, you’re not good at anything helpful. And unfortunately, since we’re juniors, we are not in any of your classes and don’t have the expertise to help.”

Fluttershy cleared her throat. “I might be able to help.” She pointed at one of the little boxes on the schedule. “Is that AP Biology?”

“I don’t know why they put me in that. I guess I’ve been in most of the other science courses, and technically I passed them, barely, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I’m in AP Biology.”

“Yep!” said Rainbow Dash, and threw her arm around Fluttershy. “Our genius biologist here . . .”

“Oh, stop it,” murmured Fluttershy, and blushed.

“Our genius biologist here’s at least a year ahead of everybody else.”

“I want to be a veterinarian,” Fluttershy explained. “I think I can help a lot more animals that way. Only it’s really hard to get into vet school, and I’m not a genius, Rainbow Dash. I just try really, really hard. I’d be happy to help you in that class, Cheese.” She placed her fork down and looked him firmly in the eye. “Only if I do, you have to promise you’ll work hard and take it seriously.”

Cheese flinched slightly under her gaze. “OK. I’ll do my best.”

“That will take care of one class,” said Rarity, “but I can’t imagine it would be enough to help you pass your exams or convince Vice Principal Luna that you’re studying for them.”

“And I have Mr. Doodle for math, too,” said Cheese. “I’m doomed.”

“Let’s think, y’all. Who do we know who’s a senior, who knows everything, and who owes us a big favor?”

The library was very quiet for the middle of the day. Clearly, no one was interested in working through his or her lunch period, and even the librarian seemed to be on break. “Sunset?” Applejack called up into the half-light. “Are you up there?”

A voice drifted down from the upper floor of the library, as though it were borne on the dust motes flickering through the shafts of sunlight. “Where else would I be?”

“Y’know,” said Rainbow Dash, “if you want to learn about the magic of friendship, you might want to come down here once in a while and make friends. Like normal people.”

“Ooo!” Pinkie Pie bounced onto the bottom step of the stair leading up to the second floor, making it shake. “You could come down and I could throw you a friendship party! And you could be friends with everybody in the whole school! It’s not like they remember you turning them into killer zombies or anything. It’ll be fun!”

“I can learn all about the magic of friendship from up here, thank you very much. I don’t need to expose myself to everyone else. If you need a favor, or something friendshippy, you’ll have to come up here to ask me. I’m very busy.”

Rainbow Dash shrugged and walked past Pinkie on her way up the stairs, followed by Applejack. Rarity pulled herself back in distaste, and forced herself to go up next; Fluttershy glanced apprehensively at the upper floor, and followed close on Rarity’s heels. Pinkie waited for Cheese, who brought up the rear.

“Don’t worry, Cheesie,” Pinkie hissed, as they climbed the stairs. “She seems kinda scary, but she’s not really anymore. She’s just cranky because she wanted to be a magical unicorn pony princess and she couldn’t.”

“Oh,” said Cheese. “I could see where that would sting.”

They passed bookcase after bookcase, the books getting progressively dustier as they went further from the stairs. “I hear there are dead bodies back here,” said Rainbow Dash. “Students come in, and they never come out. WoooOOOOOooo,” she added, making spooky hand gestures at Fluttershy, who squeaked.

At last, they reached a table heaped high with books. At the head of it sat a girl in a black leather jacket, deeply immersed in one of them. She was surrounded by a reddish glow, which probably came from her flame-like hair, or the reflection of a dozen hand-sized mirrors. On a nearby table, she had set up a telescope, aimed at the gigantic domed skylight.

Some of the books spread out on the table were ordinary textbooks, some were large reference books, and some were beautifully bound in antique covers. Rarity was attracted to them as though by a magnet.

“What lovely books!” she sighed. “I didn’t know we had books like this in the library.” She reached towards a book with a deep purple cover, glittering with ornamentation that almost looked like precious stones.

“Don’t touch that!” Sunset Shimmer barked. “They’re not from this library. And I don’t know what happens if you touch one.” She forced her face into a smile. “I’m saying that in a friendly way, right?”

“You’re trying,” said Rainbow Dash, leaning against a bookcase, “but you still fail.”

“I’m . . . sorry,” she said. “Have you come to practice being my friend?”

“Sorta,” said Applejack. “We’ve got a favor to ask you. We need your help for Cheese Sandwich--Cheese? Where’d he get to?”

Pinkie and Cheese were still far down the aisle of bookcases, zig-zagging back and forth. Pinkie was popping out from the shelves, sometimes in the middle and sometimes hanging on to the top, and tossing books down to Cheese, who caught and skimmed through each before dropping it and catching the next.

“How about this one?” said Pinkie, as another book soared from the middle of a bookcase.

“Hang on. I need more light for this.” He pulled out a small flashlight and allowed his curly forelock to grasp it like a miner’s light. “Nope. This is on music.”

“Aw. How about this one?”

“Collected works of Geoffrey Chaucer.”

“BO-ring.”

“I think we’re looking for two ‘n’s. Or three.”

Sunset watched their progress, her eyes narrowing as she leaned forward.

“How about this one?”

“Pyrotechnics and ballistics. This is it!”

“Woohoo!” shouted Pinkie, and sprang down next to her friends as Cheese darted forward with a book under his arm, sending up a cloud of dust.

Sunset’s eyes darted back and forth. She appeared to be sizing them up. Short girl . . . tall boy. Pink curly hair. Brown curly hair. Peculiar locomotion. Cheese quickly snatched the flashlight from his hair, but it was too late. Prehensile hair. Hmmm.

As if on cue, Pinkie and Cheese sneezed in unison. A shower of colored paper eddied around them.

“Hmmm,” said Sunset. “Go on, Applejack. You were saying you needed a favor.”

“Uh, yes. It’s sorta hard to explain.”

Pinkie drew a long breath. “Cheesie here promised he would help me with the Cake Festival, only he has to graduate too and he’s awful at school and he’s not allowed to do parties anymore, and he’s watched by like the Mafia or something, I don’t even know, but anyway Vice Principal Luna knows and he needs to be able to say he’s studying but really he’ll be helping me with the Cake Festival!” She finished with a giant grin. Cheese coughed.

Sunset rose from her seat, head held high. “You want me to lie for you. You want me to help you deceive Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna when I am trying to regain their trust.”

“Yep!” said Pinkie Pie.

“I’ll consider it, but on one condition,” said Sunset Shimmer. She moved along the table until she reached Cheese, and fixed him with glowing green eyes. “You will actually come here for tutoring sessions. You needn’t come every day, though it must be at least twice a week. I will expect to tutor you and for you to do your homework. I will stretch the truth, but I will not lie—not for you, anyway—and if something happens, I am going to deny all knowledge of it. One further condition —”

“I thought you only had one,” said Rainbow Dash.

“I expect you to be here, too,” she said, turning to Pinkie Pie.

“Me? Why me?”

Sunset Shimmer shrugged. “I have my reasons. I understand you can use the extra tuition. In any case, Pinkie Pie, those are my conditions. Take them or leave them.”

“Oh, sure, whatever,” said Pinkie, skipping over to the table and glancing at a book Sunset had left open. “Ooo, what’s this? ‘And solemnly sweared not to be scared . . .’ ”

“Don’t read that,” Sunset said quickly. “Friendship lessons, friendship lessons,” she murmured, as she closed her books. “I suppose this will count as a friendship lesson. And there’s no reason I can’t learn something she doesn’t know, is there? It’s all friendly competition. And now,” she said as she turned back to them, “if you’ll excuse me, I need some lunch.” She strode towards the stairway, all of them scrambling to keep up.

They had almost reached the balcony when Cheese blurted, “I can pay something. Not a lot, but I can manage.”

Sunset stopped sharply and a slow smile spread across her face. “Oh, I’ll get something I want out of it,” she assured him. “I always do.” She glanced down at the first floor. “I think lunch can wait for a few minutes. After the bell.”

She leaned over the railing and watched Flash Sentry as he sat at a study table, staring into space, moving the fingers of his right hand, lips forming inaudible words as he worked his way through another new song. “That was not the smartest thing I’ve ever done,” she muttered. “I knew nothing about having friends, let alone a boyfriend. I don’t know what I was thinking. Still,” she added briskly, turning her back and using the railing as a backrest, “it’s definitely for the best. It’s not as though I really belong here, after all. Someday, maybe, I’ll get to go home. I have to hope for that, anyway.”

They filed down the stairs. “Huh,” said Cheese, “this is a start, but still—and I need to get equipment from somewhere.” The bell rang, and he winced. “Mr. Doodle’s math class. Shoot me now.” He hurried out of the library.

“Darnit! Everything’s in my locker!” Pinkie darted off in the opposite direction.

The rest of them started making their way towards their social studies class with Miss Harshwhinny.

“Sunset Shimmer still scares me,” said Fluttershy. “Is it awful of me to think that?”

“Her manner hasn’t improved much, although I admire a certain regal quality about her. Still, she is trying to be helpful. One must give her a chance,” said Rarity.

“It’s not Sunset who worries me. I dunno, y’all. How much do we know about Cheese Sandwich, really? Four schools? Five? He gets into trouble? And he said himself he has a ‘party problem.’”

Rainbow Dash sighed. “Applejack, Pinkie’s got a party problem. All it means is that her closet is so full of balloons and streamers that she can’t fit her clothes in there.”

“I know,” said Applejack, “but who’s to say that’s what Cheese Sandwich means? Anyway, I’m gonna keep my eye on Pinkie, just in case.”

“He seems nice to me. You worry about Pinkie Pie a lot,” murmured Fluttershy. “Maybe even too much.”

“She’s my cousin. It’s my business to worry.”

“Pinkie? What are you doing here?” exclaimed Cheese, stopping dead in the doorway, so that the other students leaving detention were blocked. “Oh, sorry,” he said, as he stepped to one side.

“I waited for you! Surprise!” said Pinkie, and she blew a party horn.

His jaw dropped. “Wow. Well, all right.”

She skipped towards the band room. “See, I remembered that Mr. Doodle made you lock up your accordion, and you said at lunch that Miss Octave gave you the key, and that’s where I keep my band suit because the Cakes say it keeps the twins awake, and you said you wanted to see it, so I thought you could get your accordion and I could show you my band suit at the same time!”

“And you remembered all that?” Cheese said, his long legs keeping up with her, one of his strides matching two of her short, bouncing steps.

“Yep. I remember things about people. I know you don’t have lots of time, so c’mon!” she said, and took off down the halls.

Mr. Doodle stepped out of his classroom and began to lock the door. Pinkie Pie raced by in a pink and blue blur. “Oh heya, Mr. Doodle, hope Mrs. Matilda’s ok oops sorry is everyone not supposed to know you’re dating but we all know anyway gotta go!”

“Pinkie Pie!” he yelled after her. “There’s no running in the—oh, what’s the use,” he muttered, and turned again to lock the door, only to be interrupted by another blur, this time a tall yellow and brown one.

“Ooops sorry Mr. Doodle I probably have detention again now oh well whatever totally worth it gotta go!”

Mr. Doodle rolled his eyes skywards. “Two of them. Two of them. What did I do to deserve this?”

Pinkie Pie halted at the door to the band room and waited for Cheese to unlock it. As he pulled the accordion out of the walk-in closet, she said, “What kind of accordion’s that?”

“It’s a piano accordion,” said Cheese, “and it’s heavy. I have a concertina, too, and I probably should have brought that instead, but she’s my favorite,” and he patted the case.

“I liked hearing you play it,” said Pinkie, as she rummaged through the closet. “Rarity says you play other things, too.”

“It’s not just polkas,” he admitted. “There’s other stuff, and I really wish you could hear it sometime, but probably not now. I’ll be in enough trouble with detention as it is.”

Pinkie Pie bounced out of the closet with a clash. “Ta-da!” she cried, displaying her band suit.

Cheese’s eyes lit up with pure greed. “I want one of those. Did you build it yourself?”

“Sure did! It’s got wind chimes on the back, see?” she said, turning around. “Where I’m from, there’s not a lot to do, and Mom and Dad don’t think TV is OK, so it kept me busy. I have to balance between the hand-held cymbals and the banjo,” she added, holding the latter out to him. “I guess technically you need two hands for both, but I don’t have much trouble doing that.”

“That’s funny,” said Cheese, trying a few experimental plinks on the banjo, “because neither do I. So you’re not from here after all. That makes sen—I mean, you’re not?”

“Nope. Mom and Dad and my little sisters still live out there near the quarry. I miss them a lot, but they thought I should be here instead, and I’m sure they were right, and I have Applejack and my friends, and the Cakes are totally nice. And I should take this off now,” she said sadly, “because they’re great, but they still don’t want this at home.” She took off the band suit, he handed her the banjo, and they locked the door. “We don’t dance much back where I’m from, either, but I picked it up really quickly once I moved here. I bet I could learn swing dancing really fast if you showed me.”

“Uh . . . um . . .” Cheese said, twisting his backpack, and then he dropped it. “Oh, sure, why not. I could probably get away with a minute or two. But I’m not that great,” he warned her. “I barely got to eight count Lindy and I kept hurling partners out and somehow they never made it back in. We’d do the She Goes and she’d just keep going.”

“But I wouldn’t,” said Pinkie Pie. “I’ll be good at this. You’ll see.”

She was. They didn’t have to stop and re-start more than once, and might have kept going if Cheese hadn’t glimpsed the clock on the wall and come to a sudden halt.

“That’s the time?” he gasped. “That’s the actual time?” He looked down, noticed that his hand was still linked in Pinkie’s, and hurriedly dropped it, backing away. “I . . . I . . . I . . . gotta run. Really. Now.” He began pulling on his coat.

“OK,” said Pinkie, buttoning hers and pulling on her gloves. “The bus stop’s on my way back to Sugarcube’s, so I’ll walk you there.”

She bounced out the door, and Cheese locked it. “How can you say no to something like that?” he murmured.

“So you never got detention after all?” asked Fluttershy.

“Nope,” said Cheese, drawing a diagram on the back of a napkin. “Mr. Doodle doesn’t even bother anymore. He just looks really sad whenever he sees me. I keep wanting to cheer him up, but I asked him and he said that the best thing I could do to cheer him up was to leave.”

“Weird,” said Pinkie Pie. “That’s exactly what he always says when he sees me, too.”

“Isn’t anyone gonna ask me about the Little League tryouts? Or about our training program?” complained Rainbow Dash. “I mean, the world doesn’t revolve around this Cake Festival.”

“Just should revolve around you, huh?” ventured Applejack.

“Well, yeah!”

“I think Pinkie Pie has some splendid ideas,” said Rarity, and Pinkie Pie beamed. “I don’t think there’s ever been a Cake Festival with a fashion show of aprons before. Prim is delighted. She’s going to let me have the day to manage it, and that is our busiest season, with all the June weddings. She must think that it’s worth it.”

“Mr. Cake wants there to be a separate judging for sponge cakes and angel cakes,” said Pinkie, “but Mrs. Cake thinks that’s too technical. We’re still a little short on entertainment, though.”

Rainbow Dash groaned. “Please don’t tell me we’re stuck with Flash Drive again.”

“Pinkie, you’ve literally been in every club in school. You can’t tell me there’s no one to perform.”

“Oh, no,” said Pinkie, “but I think there should be auditions for everyone. Maybe we’ll find someone new, and besides, I want to see them all first.”

“And it goes—hmm,” muttered Cheese. “There’s got to be another way to do this.” He scratched something out and drew a different diagram.

“And Sunset Shimmer is still totally spooky, but I never knew all that stuff about fractions, so I don’t mind so much after all,” Pinkie went on, “only she sure stares a lot and asks a lot of questions.”

“Agh,” Cheese said, and consulted some notes. “And I still need a lot of materials. Who do I know who has black powder and who knows me and is going to let me have it anyway?”

Suddenly, Cheese tensed and leaned forward in his chair, his eyes locked on something crossing his field of vision at the other end of the cafeteria. “Who’s that girl?”

“Which one?”

“That girl. The one who’s always standing by the vending machines.”

“Her? Oh, that’s just Trixie,” said Applejack, shrugging her shoulders.

Pinkie Pie frowned, and Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes and snorted.

“She calls herself ‘The Great and Powerful Trixie.’ Trust me, you do not want—”

But Cheese was already halfway across the room. Trixie stopped, apparently curious to know what this new person had to say to her. As more and more other students noticed his approach towards her, conversation ebbed and the noise of the cafeteria dropped, enough for Pinkie and her friends to hear—

“HEH-lo, good-lookin’, is that—”

The conversational buzz that broke out covered the rest of what he said, but then they saw something Canterlot High seldom saw. The Great and Powerful Trixie threw back her head, and laughed.

Author's Note

If I think of any brilliant comments, I'll edit them in later, but I thought you'd rather have the chapter! I try to hew as close to canon as possible, although between juggling the EG books, the movie, and the comic book, plus the FiM show, there are some discrepancies, and there I have had to make choices. For example, in the movie, the books, and the shorts, Fluttershy works at the animal rescue, but in the comic book, she works at the animal clinic. There's no reason she can't do both, but I like it when Fluttershy's commitment to animals reaches beyond the cute and fluffy, so pre-vet courses it is. Pinkie's brief membership in every club in school and her band suit are both taken from the EG comic book annual. And I'd like to thank both Mr. Tony Fleecs and Mr. Andy Price for talking to me about the EG comic book, and for their autographs, too!

It's For Your Own Good

Chapter Three: It’s For Your Own Good

“Did Trixie just actually laugh?”

“Did you hear a ‘mwah-hah-hah-hah?’ ‘Cause I don’t think I’ve ever heard Trixie laugh without a ‘mwah-hah-hah-hah.’ ”

They couldn’t quite absorb what they were seeing. The Great and Powerful Trixie didn’t talk to anybody, and nobody talked to her. Yet there she was, listening to whatever it was that Cheese Sandwich had to say, and talking—talking a lot, from the looks of it. She was also laughing, and it was decidedly weird to watch Trixie laugh without clenching her fists and addressing the heavens.

They finished their conversation, and Cheese slid quickly back through the crowd and dropped down into his seat next to Pinkie Pie.

“Well, that’s one act taken care of,” he said. “I talked to Trixie, and I think we have a deal. I thought she did fireworks, but she’s got some kind of magic act. I told her we could guarantee her a slot on the program without any problem. She really wanted it, too.”

Pinkie, who had been pinging her fork and spoon against her water and soda glasses, abruptly stopped. “You guaranteed Trixie a spot on the program?” she said, swiveling around in her chair so that she was face to face with Cheese.

“Yeah. Why? Is there some kind of problem?”

Pinkie shook her head. “You Pinkie Promised. Didn’t you say you never break your promises?”

“Cheesy Promises, but that’s right, I don’t. What—”

Pinkie’s voice was calm and even upbeat, but she jammed her books, papers, bubble solution, and party horns back in her book bag without glancing up or noticing that some things were upside down and others were getting crushed. “You just did. You were going to be my helper. That wasn’t helpful.” She looked up with a bright, brittle smile. “I’ve got a lot to do now, so . . . seeya.”

Cheese watched her speed out the door. “What was that all about?”

Applejack leaned back in her chair. “Reading between the lines, Slick, I’d say you just broke a Pinkie Promise."

“How?”

“First of all,” said Rainbow Dash, “you just guaranteed Trixie a spot on the program without asking Pinkie first. You’re supposed to be her assistant, right? Soarin’s my assistant coach. If he added team members or started training maneuvers without checking with me, they’d be looking for the pieces for weeks.” She drew her finger across her throat.

“Pinkie was really looking forward to being in charge of this,” said Fluttershy, poking at her salad. “She thinks people don’t think she’s responsible enough. You promised her you’d help and not take over. I think you really hurt her feelings.”

Cheese put his head in his hands. “Good Gouda. I did take over. I’m so used to organizing stuff on my own that I just forgot.”

“That’s breaking a Pinkie Promise, I’d say,” said Applejack. “Pinkie’s not so keen on people who break Pinkie Promises. Second, if you had to guarantee someone a spot on the program, you probably picked the worst person in the whole school. Trixie and Pinkie hate each other. Can’t blame her, really.”

“I can’t help but wonder,” said Rarity, leaning her chin on her hand, “what exactly you said to Trixie. I think everyone in the cafeteria was simply riveted, but I didn’t catch the end.”

“ ‘Hello, good-lookin’, is that fuse wire in your backpack, or are you just happy to see me?’ ”

“Ugh,” said Rarity, shuddering. “Terrible.”

“You mean—kind of Cheeeesy?” He performed a rimshot with his fork and knife against the edge of his plate. He looked at each of the girls in turn, but all of them looked very serious, and Rainbow Dash groaned. “What? It was funny! She laughed!” Rarity shook her head. “I didn’t know. She looked sort of sad. I had to try to cheer her up. It’s hard to explain. And besides, you can’t expect me not to talk to a girl who’s got fuse wire. It’s not natural.”

“Yes, but ‘good-looking?’”

“Well, she is.” Rarity rolled up one of Fluttershy’s flyers for the Canterlot Animal Rescue Center and smacked Cheese on the head with it. “Ow! What was that for?”

“That remark was both unnecessary and unwise,” said Rarity. “I’m afraid you’re very poorly trained.”

“I’ve been in all-boys’ schools for three years!” Cheese complained. “What else do you expect?”

Rarity raised her eyebrows. “You ought to know that you should never speak approvingly of the attractions of one lady in front of another lady.”

“Meh, I don’t care,” said Rainbow Dash, and shrugged.

“Doesn’t bother me none,” agreed Applejack.

“Do I understand that you intended to be charming in order to ask for a favor?”

Cheese blushed. “Well, yeah, that was part of it, but—”

“It is simply reprehensible,” Rarity said severely, “to use charm of manner for personal gain. Thank you,” she added to the pimpled and nervous freshman who had come over to bus her tray for her. “And finally, you deliberately crossed a cafeteria in order to make a flirtatious remark to Trixie. Who knows what romantic havoc you might have wrought?”

Rainbow Dash and Cheese turned to each other, their eyes bugging out and their jaws dropping simultaneously. They seemed to be struggling to put their thoughts into words.

“BAH HAH HAH HAH!”

Rainbow Dash laughed so hard that she flung herself back into her chair and nearly overbalanced.

Cheese doubled over, accidentally slamming his head into the table. “Ow!” he said, and laughed some more until he cried.

“Hoo!” Rainbow Dash clutched her midsection, tears streaming down her face. “Rarity, stop. You got extra napkins, Cheese?”

He held out a handful at arm’s length, unable to speak, and blew his nose.

Rarity drew herself up into her most dignified posture, trying to ignore the vulgar exhibition in front of her. “You may find this humorous, Rainbow Dash, but this is The Great and Powerful Trixie we are discussing. She thinks everyone worships her. Who knows what she might think? She might misinterpret. She might develop an obsession. This might turn into a romantic disaster of epic proportions! Why is nobody taking this seriously?”

Rainbow Dash had gotten some control now. “Ah, I wouldn’t worry about that,” she said, waving her hand. “I mean, I’m so awesome that if I said something like that, it’d be game over.” She threw one arm around Cheese. “But Cheese here is such an enormous dorkasaurus that I don’t think it’s gonna be a problem.”

“Thanks,” said Cheese, rolling his eyes.

“No problemo, dude. Just keeping it real.”

“Let’s not borrow trouble,” said Applejack. “You never know with Trixie, but I’d say your real problem is that you broke a Pinkie Promise, Cheese, and the Trixie stuff won’t help you any.” She glanced up at the clock. “We better get going.” They began packing their book bags.

“Oh, yeah, Fluttershy, I almost forgot,” said Cheese. “I can’t meet you for AP Biology study this afternoon. I promised I’d meet Trixie after school.”

Rarity gasped. “IT BEGINS.”

“I have to meet her,” Cheese insisted. “It’s a long story. Besides, I promised. I’m over limit on broken promises for one day.” The bell rang. He sighed. “Math class with Mr. Doodle again. Why was I born?”

“Um—hi?” said Cheese tentatively to the spot where Pinkie had just been. She was already bouncing her way across the cafeteria, cheerful as ever. She turned at the doorway to wave at the table, and then was gone. Twenty-four hours later, Cheese was still a non-person, as far as she was concerned.

“I sure hope that whatever deal you cut with Trixie was worth it, Sunny Jim,” said Applejack.

“We’ll have to see,” said Cheese grimly, sliding his tray down carefully so the piles of food on it didn’t spill. “By the way, Applejack, I have to talk to you later. I’ve got a favor I need to ask.”

“Me?”

“As your big brother would say, ee-yup.”

Everyone ate in silence for a few minutes.

“OK. I get it,” Cheese burst out, putting down his fork and balancing his spoon on his hand. “I boobed up big time, but Pinkie won’t even let me apologize. I still want to help her. I blew a Pinkie Promise, but I’m not blowing a Cheesy Promise, too. There’s something else I’m not getting here.”

“You mean the way Trixie insulted Pinkie so badly that the girl who’s friends with everybody at CHS wants nothing to do with her?” said Applejack.

“That might be it, yes.”

“When we all first came to Canterlot High," said Rarity, "Trixie was already here. She was running one of the booths at the Freshman Fair, and she was . . . how do I put it . . .”

“Full of herself, that one,” said Applejack, and snorted. “You know she’s got a magic act?”

“That would be the one that got me in hot water with Pinkie, right? Yeah, I’m not likely to forget. She showed me some of it yesterday afternoon. And, no, she hasn’t developed some kind of obsessive passion for me, Rarity. It’s pretty good.”

“Dorkasaurus,” said Rainbow Dash. “Toldja so.”

“But back then, she said what she could do was real. Real magic,” said Fluttershy.

“Said she could do all manner of things,” scoffed Applejack. “Pure foolishness. She had this little bunch of admirers and they just climbed all over the rest of us, bragging on all the stuff they said she could do. She said she could control the weather, guarantee that you’d get on the team, ace the exam, get whoever you were sweet on to go out with you, tell the future. She’s a fraud.”

“I think maybe she really thinks she can do that,” Fluttershy put in, and hesitated. “Other people thought so too.”

“Either way, she had no time for anyone who wasn’t kowtowing to the Great and Powerful Trixie. After a while, almost all of us quit trying to be friendly, except for Pinkie Pie. She kept trying long after the rest of us gave up. I guess it didn’t help that Pinkie really can tell the future sometimes.”

“Really?” asked Cheese. “She can do that? That’s funny, because—I mean, she can?”

“Just little stuff, mostly. She calls it her Pinkie Sense. So one day, right before English, Trixie goes shootin’ the breeze about how a great calamity would befall, and Pinkie said, ‘just look where you’re going and you won’t befall, silly! And the mud’ll come right out.’ Trixie stood up, pointed at Pinkie, and said, ‘your mouth is open, Pinkie Pie. It should be shut.’ And she went zzziiip, as though she was zipping Pinkie’s mouth closed.”

“She did that?” said Cheese, horrified.

“And it worked, too.”

“Rainbow!” exclaimed Fluttershy.

“Well, it did! She didn’t say anything all afternoon.”

“She was outraged,” said Rarity. “Such rudeness.”

“Anyway, Pinkie was right,” said Applejack. “Trixie befell her bigheaded self right into a mud puddle that very afternoon. And that was it. Pinkie can’t stand Trixie now, not that any of us can. After that, Sun—someone came along who didn’t have any time for Trixie and showed her up as a fake, and Trixie lost her whole clique. Turns out she didn’t have any real friends who would stick by her. She’s always been a little weird, but after that she kept to herself.”

Cheese shoved some food around his plate. “What you’re saying is that I broke a Pinkie Promise and made Pinkie feel incompetent by doing a favor for someone who insulted her in public.”

“Don’t forget the bit where you didn’t ask her first.”

“I wasn’t forgetting it,” muttered Cheese. “I am in way over my head here.”

“I suggest groveling,” Rarity said, patting his hand. “Groveling is always in style. You might like to explain in elaborate detail why—”

“Why you did such a chuckle-headed thing,” said Applejack.

“Exactly. And then you should add, ‘but that’s an explanation, not an excuse.’ ”

Cheese furrowed his brows. “Why? What does that mean?”

“It means that you are not offering a shallow apology, and that you recognize the full implications of . . .” Rarity gave up. “Just say it. Trust me.”

“It’s nice weather today,” said Rainbow Dash. “I’ve got a pretty good idea where she’ll be.”

“It’s worth a try,” urged Fluttershy.

“Yup,” agreed Applejack. “You never know. Pinkie might overlook a Pinkie Promise just this once. If she thinks of you as a real friend, that is.”

“Yeah,” said Cheese, picking up his tray. “I’ll see all of you later.” He took his tray over to the trash cans and emptied it. Half of the food was uneaten.

Fluttershy turned to Applejack and exclaimed, “Applejack, you know Pinkie forgives everyone sooner or later. We’ve all fought and made up. Why did you say that?”

“Oh, I dunno,” said Applejack, licking off her spoon. “It won’t do him any harm to have the fear of Pinkie put into him.”

“GO RAINBOW DASH!” screamed Pinkie Pie, sitting alone, high in the bleachers. Rainbow Dash raced down the soccer field, dribbling the ball and scoring kicks against herself. The afternoon was sunny, but cold, and Pinkie was bundled up. Her pink, fluffy earmuffs suggested that she wasn’t prepared to listen to anything.

“She looks cold,” said Fluttershy. “I don’t understand why Pinkie is out here.”

“She feels that Rainbow Dash needs encouragement,” said Rarity, adjusting her scarf.

“I don’t think her giant ego needs any more encouragement,” said Applejack, “but to each her own, I guess.”

“Now remember,” warned Rarity, as they climbed over the risers. “ ‘This is an explanation, not an excuse.’ ”

“Why don’t you just hand him a stack of flash cards, Rarity? ‘Cause I think that’d do almost as much good.”

They all sat down on the bench behind Pinkie. Cheese leaned forward and muttered something the others couldn’t quite catch.

“Fuse wire?” shrieked Pinkie Pie, her voice going up two octaves. Down on the field, Rainbow Dash missed her kick. Cheese winced. “You promised Trixie she could perform at the festival in exchange for fuse wire?”

“Well, that and a few other things,” Cheese admitted. Rarity put her hand over her eyes. “I can’t go into the details. I’m just here to apologize. I have to go home, so it’s all I can do right now. I’ll explain some other time if you want to listen, but I have to go.” He picked up his backpack and a small leather case, and began his descent of the risers.

Pinkie stood up. “Can you apologize and walk at the same time?”

Cheese stopped and turned. “I think so.”

Pinkie nodded. “I think you should try.”

“Where’s your accordion today?” asked Pinkie, as they circled the soccer field and headed for the street.

“I left her at home. I brought my concertina instead.”

A lot of the spring had gone out of Pinkie Pie’s normal gait. Usually, her short bouncy steps balanced exactly against Cheese’s long legged shamble, but today she kept getting ahead of him or vice versa.

At last she said, “What did you want fuse wire for? Why Trixie? Why didn’t you ask me first? Why didn't you bring your favorite accordion? What happened to your yellow shirt? Why do they call them cupcakes when they’re not made out of cups?”

“In reverse order—no idea, it’s in the wash, it’s very heavy, because I’m an idiot, because she had fuse wire, and the last one I can’t answer. I didn’t know about Trixie, though. No one told me.”

She shook her head. “I was just trying to be friends.”

“With me, or with Trixie?”

“Both. I know I can’t be friends with Trixie. I don’t even want to try anymore. She made me feel stupid in front of everybody.” She pulled out a candy bar and began to eat it. “You made me feel stupid, too,” she said, through a mouthful of caramel. “Nobody thinks I can do things on my own or take care of myself. It’s like they think something’s wrong with me. Somebody’s always checking up on me—Applejack, the Cakes, my friends.”

Cheese laughed, but there wasn’t any humor behind it. “I know the feeling.”

Pinkie stopped walking, so that he was forced to stop, too. “They really mean well,” she insisted, eyes wide and almost pleading. “They just do it because they love me.”

“Yeah, well, that one sounds familiar, too,” Cheese said. “Look, I’m sorry, Pinkie. I didn’t mean to make you feel stupid. I did promise I wouldn’t take over. Usually I plan parties alone. I’m not used to working with anyone else, and I wasn’t thinking, but—” his eyes rolled up, as though he was trying to remember something, ‘that’s an explanation, not an excuse.’ ”

Pinkie frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Cheese shrugged. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “Rarity said I should say it. She said it would help.”

Pinkie shook her head, walking on. “I don’t see how it helps if neither of us know what it means. How about you made a mistake and you didn’t mean to, and you’re really sorry, and you won’t do it again? ”

Cheese followed after her, circling her and popping up on every side, and even walking backwards, trying to catch her eye. “Pinkie, I made a huge mistake, and I didn’t mean to, and you have no idea how sorry I am, and I’ll never do it again,” he said.

Pinkie stopped walking. “Aw,” she said. “You mean it. That’s more than enough, Cheesie. Please don’t apologize any more. We’re friends.” She rose up on the balls of her feet as high as she could go and threw her arms around him in a giant hug.

Cheese closed his eyes and sighed in relief. “That’s all I wanted to know,” he said. “I don’t have so many friends that I can afford to lose one.”

She let go of him and dropped back to the ground. “No one ever does, silly.”

“I’m glad Mrs. Cake didn’t need me to babysit Pound and Pumpkin for very long after all,” said Pinkie. She and Cheese were seated at the far table in the bakery at Sugarcube’s, surrounded by pads of paper, envelopes, party horns, crayons, tubs of glitter, and at least twelve plates that had recently held cupcakes and muffins. Their hair and shoulders were dusted with flour. “We lost a couple of days of party planning.”

Cheese was mulling over a list, and didn’t lift his head or respond.

“You were really nice about the twins, though. Some people wouldn’t like dumping flour on their own heads, and they can scream kinda loud, and it’s like it didn’t even bother you.”

Cheese still didn’t respond.

“Anyhoo, I think we can get a lot done before closing. We’re all going out to a movie afterwards. Do you think you can come, just this once? Cheesie? CHEESIE!” She waved a hand in front of his face.

He startled, looked up, and shook his head slightly. “Sorry, boss. I think I’ll get hearing back in that ear eventually. Could you talk into the other one for now?” Pinkie somersaulted into the empty seat on his other side. “I explained everything to Trixie and said I made a mistake, and the volume got a little high. Luckily, it wasn’t hard to persuade her that I was a clueless, incompetent minion who had no idea what I was doing. I think she’s familiar with the type. She wasn’t happy to find out that she’d have to audition to be on the program, but I told her it was your decision. I think she’s going to want to. And I know you’re not going to like this, but I think you should let her. Otherwise, we’re going to run out of entertainment acts.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“You’ve got the list of the events and the stations we’ve got to have. Read them off to me.”
Cheese pulled out a pencil and a fresh piece of paper, and began to draw a diagram.

“Main stage, first of all, right? That’s where the judging, the costume contest, and the main music acts go.”

“Main stage,” repeated Cheese, drawing a large box. “That’s another problem. I hope we can find at least one other band besides Flash Drive. It’s not as though we have lots of bands to choose from. Go on.”

“Food tent—”

“Back there,” Cheese said, and drew another box.

“Some tables for the rescue center, Tshirts, and some vendors. We’ve got some I’ve never even heard of,” she said, indicating the envelopes. “The Cakes are going to be happy.”

“Vendors,” said Cheese, drawing a long rectangle.

“Bouncy castle! I love those!”

“Bouncy castle.” Cheese drew another box, and smiled.

“Balloons over there—”

“And the balloons, of course.” Cheese added a small circle. “You know, I’ve never seen you use a helium tank for those.”

“Nuh-uh,” said Pinkie.

“Anyway—if those are over here, we’ll still need something over there for people to watch.” He drew an X over the empty spot. “Something for kids. Face painting and the bouncy castle are only going to go so far. I think we should have some small-scale acts. Trixie can be one of them.”

“But there are lots of things I could do,” Pinkie protested.

Cheese looked up and turned to face her. “You’re a dozen times better than Trixie, and much more fun. It’s not even close. But you’re running the balloon stand and the whole event, too. Pinkie, you can only do so much. There’s only one of you.”

“But there’s you. You have your accordion,” said Pinkie.

“I’m not going to be there, remember?” Cheese said, dropping his eyes back to the impromptu map. “No parties. I don’t think I could get away with it.”

“Aw. It’s not going to be as much fun without you,” said Pinkie, almost under her breath, but Cheese gave no indication that he’d heard this, and she pitched her voice higher. “I’m glad you could get away to the park yesterday. You sure were there fast.”

Cheese nodded. “I was expecting it anyway. I knew I was supposed to be there, but I still don’t know why.”

“You get those too?” Pinkie said, surprised. “I get those all the time!”

“Applejack mentioned that,” he said. “I only get them if I’m supposed to throw a party, or cheer someone up, or make them laugh: something like that. That’s one reason I talked to Trixie in the first place. She’s not very happy. I didn’t really have a choice. I wasn’t sure you’d understand that, though.”

“I know!” exclaimed Pinkie, and she pulled a balloon out of her pocket. “It’s so annoying! You show up and all you want to do is make someone smile, and instead of being happy you’re there, they’re all “how did you know I was in a bad mood? Why are you here?’ And if you explain, they never believe you.” She blew up the balloon.

“That’s it! That’s exactly what it’s like!” said Cheese.

“Huh,” said Pinkie, letting the balloon go. It slowly floated towards the ceiling. “I’ve never met anyone else who got those. Let’s not mention it to Sunset Shimmer, though. I hate it when she asks questions like that. It makes me feel weird.”

“Deal.”

“Did you play your accordion after I left yesterday?”

“Some,” said Cheese, turning almost as pink as Pinkie herself.

“Can you play it for me?”

“Well, ok,” he said, rising and snapping open the clasps of his accordion case. “It’s, um, not exactly the same song, but I think you’ll like it.”

He began to play. Last time, he’d played such an infectiously cheerful polka that Pinkie had to dance. This wasn’t that kind of song. It was trying to say something, and Pinkie simply sat still and listened.

The shop bell jingled, and Cheese stopped mid-phrase with a discordant clash.

“Well, that’s probably enough,” he stammered, letting the accordion deflate with a defeated sigh. “You’d better see what they want.”

Two men in sober business suits and correct ties approached the counter as Pinkie sprang over.

“We’d like some cupcakes,” said the taller of the two men.

“What flavor?” asked Pinkie. “We’ve got chocolate, vanilla, vanilla on chocolate, chocolate on vanilla, peanut butter—oh, wait. We’re all sold out of the peanut butter and the caramel.” Cheese glanced guiltily at the stack of empty plates.

The two men quietly consulted each other. “We’ll have to come back.”

“Let’s start with these. These are the basics. We can come back later. We’ll have one of each, Miss.” Pinkie carefully selected one of each type of cupcake, rang up the purchase, and the men carried their cupcakes to the table furthest away from Pinkie and Cheese.

The presence of the two new customers clearly made them both feel awkward. Finally, Cheese asked, “When do you think we should hold auditions, boss?”

“Next weekend,” she said. “I think you should be there if you can, don’t you? And I like being called ‘boss,’” she added, dimpling. “It’s nice to be boss of something. I wish you could play your accordion at the festival. I know you’re not allowed to go anywhere or do much. Why not?”

Cheese started stacking some papers, but Pinkie let the silence stretch on so long that it was uncomfortable. “I really don’t want to say,” he said finally. “But it’s kind of like what you were saying the other day—it’s supposed to be for my own good.” He paused, and then burst out, “I know you’ll understand this bit, Pinkie, and maybe you’re the only person who will. You know how you just have to try to make people smile? It’s not exactly a choice, right? You’ll do whatever it takes.” She nodded. “Well, most of the time, I’m not allowed to, and it makes everything worse.” He planted his elbows on the table and pillowed his chin on his fists.

“Hey, Cheesie?” said Pinkie, and blew a stream of bubbles at him.

“Oh, oops,” he said. “I’m setting you off. Sorry about that. Anyway, next weekend sounds good. What are those guys doing with their cupcakes?”

Pinkie turned to look at them and frowned. One of the men was cutting the cupcakes in tiny pieces, eating one piece, and muttering words like “mouth feel,” while the other took notes. “Hey, I’m sorry,” she shouted across the room, “but it’s a half hour after closing.”

One of the men looked up, alarmed. “Can we just have a few more minutes?”

“No,” said Pinkie. They packed up the remaining cupcakes and left hurriedly, and Pinkie flipped over the shop sign so it read “closed.” “I know I’m not supposed to do that,” she said, “but I had a weird feeling about those guys.”

“Me, too,” agreed Cheese.

The bell over the door jingled again. This time, Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy came in.

“I apologize, Pinkie Pie,” said Rarity. “We were on the other side of Sugarcube’s. I suppose we’d forgotten that we were supposed to meet you here.”

“No problem,” said Pinkie. “We were just doing some planning for the festival, and some mysterious guys did weird things with cupcakes, and we were talking about how Sunset Shimmer is really spooky sometimes.”

“She is,” Cheese agreed, as he finished stacking papers and putting the glitter jars in a box. “It’s not that we’re not learning anything, but—”

“But she asks all these questions like ‘how did you get that balloon inflated’ and ‘on a scale of one to ten, how strong are the physical manifestations of your premonitions?’ and we don’t even know what that means,” finished Pinkie.

Applejack frowned. “Tell her it’s none of her beeswax.”

“We’d like to,” said Cheese, “but I really need for her to tell Vice Principal Luna that I’m spending my time studying, so we do what she wants.”

“And she gets all friendshippy about it,” said Pinkie, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t think she knows what friendship is. Anyhoo, she’s trying, I guess.”

They finished stacking the papers and envelopes. “We were about to go see a movie,” Rarity said to Cheese. “Would you care to join us?”

“C’mon,” blustered Rainbow Dash. “I’m up to here with coaching and stuff, and we’ve got a game next week, and even I can make time. If I can, you can.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, I can’t,” said Cheese. “I really wish I could. Anyway, I’ll see you all tomorrow, I guess. ‘Night, Pinkie. ‘Night, you guys.”

He lifted the accordion case, tucked a folder with various lists in it under his arm, and left.

“What’s with him?” said Rainbow Dash. “He never just hangs out.”

Fluttershy said, “Um—I don’t think he’s allowed to hang out anywhere. When we study together, we really have to work and he always leaves in a hurry. And besides. . . well, I probably shouldn’t say.”

“Glitter, anybody?” Pinkie broke in. “You can always use more glitter, right?”

“No, you go on, Fluttershy,” said Applejack. “What were you going to say?”

“Well,” she said, drawing a circle with the toe of her shoe, “I was out on the East Side last week, putting out some humane traps for kitties so we could spay or neuter them. Do you know how many kittens a pair of cats can produce in seven years?”

“420,000,” said Rarity. “My Opal was spayed years ago.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, honey,” said Applejack. “Get to the important bit.”

“Well, I went past the house where Cheese lives, because there’s a big colony of cats over there, and I heard this voice screaming at him. A horrible screechy voice, saying over and over, ‘you’re in a lot of trouble, young man.’ “ She shuddered. “It was awful.”

Author's Note

Always spay and neuter, folks.

This chapter was originally going to have another scene, but I decided to split it up differently. The day in the park Pinkie and Cheese are talking about happens in another story, “The Good Kind of Magic.”

I almost never specify songs anymore. I think most of the time, they don’t help, because if the reader doesn’t know the song, it just takes him or her out of the story. For the record, though, the song Cheese was playing in the park was “I’ve Told Every Little Star.” If you look up the lyrics, you can see why he might not want to play it for Pinkie. EDIT: And oh, dear, I do hate the Linda Scott cover. I didn't link to it because I cannot find a single cover of it I like and don't want to violate copyright by uploading mine. SECOND EDIT: HA! It's on Amazon, or you can look it up on ITunes. The album is called "Silver Linings," and it's the thirteenth track.

Dash, Flash, and Dust

Cheese laced his fingers through his curly brown hair, held his head in his hands, and groaned. “I cannot believe that we’ve only got one band auditioning.”

The CHS gym was set up for auditions for the Cake Festival. Pinkie and Cheese sat at a collapsible table at one end, just beyond the basketball hoop. In front of Pinkie lay a schedule with open slots for different acts, a bag of cinnamon rolls, and a large strawberry smoothie. A list of hopeful auditioners was just to Cheese’s left.

“I know, right?” replied Pinkie, her voice shooting up with aggravation and spreading her arms wide. “I mean, we announced auditions on Monday! It’s been five whole days. You’d think there would be at least eight bands by now!”

“At least that,” agreed Cheese.

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “I mean how hard is it to get four or five of your closest friends together and learn a bunch of instruments you’ve never even seen before? I do it all the time! Aw, cheer up, Cheesie,” she added, as he covered his face with his hands. “Even if there’s only one band, I’m sure they’ll be super-T terrific! Gimme the list.”

Cheese handed her the list in silence.

“Okie-dokie,” murmured Pinkie, scanning the list. “Mm-hm, mm-hm, mm-hm . . . ‘Flash In The Pan?’ Is that the same band as Flash Drive?” Cheese nodded. “Oh. Well. They’re . . . nice.” Pinkie’s lapse into Fluttershy-ese wasn’t a good sign.

“I’ve heard them every day in the band room when I went to get my accordion. They sound ok. Flash plays all right. It’s . . .”

“The songs,” said Pinkie. “Welp, we’re about ready now, so let ‘em all in. Now, what’s this gonna be?”

“The Best Cake Festival Ever!” they cheered, streamers exploding around them.

Pinkie pulled out a set of pink and purple markers and a stack of looseleaf for making notes, while Cheese opened up the doors on the far end. A long line of prospects poured in, and Cheese directed them to sit on the bleachers until their names were called. Most were wearing their ordinary clothes, although some were wearing matching sweaters, the Great and Powerful Trixie had put on a starry purple cape, and two boys carried top hats.

Cheese sprinted back to the table. “There’s a lot more of them than there are on the list,” he said, tossing her a rubber ball that had shot from his sleeve.

“That’s weird,” Pinkie replied, frowning, tossing it back to him, along with two more balls. Cheese caught them and added two more. “Guess they’re just curious and want to watch the acts or something,” she said, sending the balls into a circling pattern.

Cheese shrugged. “Yeah, search me,” he said, as the balls rolled back up his sleeve. “You ready? I’ll call the first act. Snips and Snails?” he called over to the bleachers. “You’re on first.”

A pudgy, short boy with an overbite and a green-haired boy with a zip-up jacket set up a small magician’s stand and put on their top hats. Up in the bleachers, the Great and Powerful Trixie turned a bright beet red. If it had been possible, steam would have been boiling out of her ears.

“Uh, watch and be amazed,” began Snips.

“At the magic of the Great and Powerful . . . ” Snails drawled.

“No, stupid,” hissed Snips. “ ‘The amazing acts. . .’ ” he prompted.

“Ohhhh, yeah. The amazing acts of Snips and Snails the Amazing!”

They swept off their hats and tried to perform a bow together, but Snails kept delaying, and was only halfway down when Snips was already almost back up. After seesawing for a moment or two, they gave up and started the act.

It didn’t go well. The silk scarves were tied in a knot at the bottom of Snails’ pants pocket, so that he gave himself a wedgie; they dropped the deck of cards; and they managed to cuff themselves together at the wrists with their own linking circles. Finally, they knocked over the magician’s stand, and announced, still attached to each other, “Ta-da!”

Pinkie and Cheese exchanged glances, but Pinkie only said, “Wow, yeah, thanks, guys. We’ll let you know.”

“Trix—I mean, The Great and Powerful Trixie?” called Cheese, and looked back down at his clipboard.

Trixie swept down from the bleachers in a high state of snit. She set up her stand, and announced, “Behold for yourselves in person the amazing, awe-inspiring magic of The Great and Powerful Trixie!”

In less than a minute, it became obvious that Snips and Snails had stolen their entire act, such as it was, from Trixie. It was also obvious that Trixie was much better than competent. She was really very good. Her rope tricks were flawless, and although she’d clearly produced her bunches of flowers and scarves from somewhere, it wasn’t at all obvious where she’d had them hidden. She even plucked a tiny blue unicorn doll from behind the ear of a girl sitting in the front row. Finally, she whirled around with a snap of her cape. “Who is so ignorant as to challenge the magical ability of the Great and Powerful Trixie?”

There was a spontaneous smattering of applause from the benches and even from Pinkie Pie. Even those who didn’t like Trixie had to acknowledge that she’d faced down a public insult, risen above it, and given a fine performance. She smirked.

“Before she leaves her awestruck audience, the Great and Powerful Trixie has one final amazing feat to perform!”

She waved her arms dramatically, focusing on the ground a foot or two in front of her. There was a tiny explosion. Someone in the bleachers gasped in alarm. The smoke cleared, revealing a coughing Trixie, flyash coating her face and hat.

“We’ll let you know!” Pinkie sang out. Trixie snatched her equipment, glaring furiously at Cheese. He returned her glare with a weak, hapless grin, and shrugged. The magician left the improvised stage with an outraged sniff.

Pinkie and Cheese worked through each act in its turn. The group in matching sweaters turned out to be Rarity, Applejack’s brother, another boy and a girl in an acapella quartet. Pinkie wrote them in on her schedule for the main stage in a prime afternoon slot. Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo brought in Apple Bloom’s dog Winona and Rarity’s cat Opalescence for a pet dancing act. Pinkie and Cheese had to call for a break while antibiotic cream was applied and Rarity swept out the door with a still murderous Opal. Still, most of the students sitting in the bleachers evidently weren’t planning to audition, and those who had already auditioned didn’t leave. They seemed to be waiting for something.

A blue-haired boy carrying an electric guitar stepped forward with three other students. “Um, hi. We’re Flash in the Pan.”

“Yes!” said Cheese, with a grin that looked as though it had been pinned to his face. “So I’ve heard.”

“We’ve pulled together a set we think you’ll really like.”

“Swing? Jazz? Pop? Metal? Electronica?” Pinkie asked, grabbing a cinnamon bun and tossing one to Cheese.

“Well, I don’t know what category you’d put it in,” mused Flash, “but it’s all original material. I wrote all of it.”

Pinkie and Cheese froze, their teeth mid-chomp through their cinnamon rolls and their eyes bugging out. Before they could even swallow, Flash’s band swung into the first number. It was a melancholy little piece about how staring at the ceiling revealed all your inner thoughts, and the musical line circled like a bug around a porch light, without ever becoming any kind of recognizable tune.

The song dragged on, and on, and on. The gym doors to the outside were pulled open, and in filed Rainbow Dash, Soarin, and the rest of the CHS soccer team, bedraggled and covered in mud. They all kept their eyes on the floor, except for Rainbow Dash, who was livid, and Soarin, who frankly looked scared.

Pinkie gasped and grabbed Cheese’s sleeve. “The soccer match!” she hissed.

“Huh?”

“Today’s one of Dashie’s soccer matches, remember?” cried Pinkie, shaking him by the shoulders, as Flash in the Pan continued their interminable number. “It was the one against Griffon Central—the one she was worried about. It was a home game, and all of those students were sitting in here and not out there cheering for her! And I wasn’t out there cheering for her!”

Dash’s voice carried over the meebling strains of “Bedroom Spackling Project.” “I told you we didn’t practice the new defense formations enough!” she snarled at Soarin. “You let two goals get right by you! Griffon Central made us look like—like dweebs! I hate losing,” she muttered.

“See?” squeaked Pinkie, shaking Cheese some more, until his teeth rattled. “And Dashie’ll go to pieces, and she won’t get an athletic scholarship, and she’ll have to get a job calling people and trying to sell them timeshares, and she’ll get mad at them, and she’ll be fired, and her life will be over, and it’ll be all my fault!”

No one actually saw Cheese take the accordion out of its case. It was just there between his hands as he leapt onto the table. Flash Sentry stopped singing for a moment, taken by surprise. And then, in desperation, Cheese began playing “Save Them Whales” as a polka.

Oh, save them whales,
They don’t wear no white tie and tails;
Our flyer will tell you all that it entails.
We’ve got puffins and walruses on our tie-in Tshirt sales.

Flash’s original song ran an ear-numbing fifteen minutes. Cheese played it at warp speed, performed a mercy-killing on it at a minute and a half, and modulated upwards in a demonic chromatic run.

Oh, Purple Smart
You fried a hole in my heart
Oh, Purple Smart
Even though we’re far apart
You’re probably gone forever
And nobody understands
You’re nerdy and cute and clever
You act like you’ve never seen hands

—sang Cheese, his fingers flying into another frenetic upward modulation. Everyone in the gym began to clap along with the music.

I got feelings
And feelings about my feelings
And feelings about my feelings about my feelings,
I do!
I got feelings
And feelings about my feelings
And I’m manly enough to express them,
It’s true!
I got feelings ‘bout life and stuff
Nature and peace and the world and stuff
Love and girls and that kind of stuff
I write it all down in words and stuff
I got feelings
And feelings about my feelings
And feelings about my feelings about my feelings,
I do!
HEY!

He ended with a sudden sting, and the entire gym broke out into applause. Cheese had his arms flung wide and his eyes closed, as if he were surfing down a wave of laughter under perfect conditions. Then, as the applause died away, everyone looked towards Flash Sentry, as they slowly realized that they’d been laughing at Flash’s songs. Flash simply stood there, and then burst out laughing himself.

“Ok,” he said. “Point taken. I think maybe we can change up our list.” Behind him, all of the other band members exhaled with relief, and the group on the bleachers applauded again.

Flash in the Pan was the last of the auditioning acts, and as they packed up and began to leave, Pinkie raced down the length of the gym towards a laughing Rainbow Dash. “Dashie!” she cried. “How did it go?”

“Oh, we got hosed,” she said cheerfully, as Cheese ambled up. “We totally stunk on ice, and Griffon Central killed us out there, but I don’t feel as bad about it now. Which doesn’t mean you slackers can slack off,” she added, whirling around to the rest of her team. “You gave it your best,” she said in a softer tone. “You’re all kinds of awesome. But next time, let’s be awesome winners, ok? Now hit the showers, you guys.”

As the rest of the team headed off, Soarin remained, coughing apologetically. “I did let two goals get right by me. You’re right, Dash. I stink on ice.”

“Aw, shuddup, Soarin,” said Dash, slapping him on the back. “I’m done yelling at you for today. Don’t hang around, or I might change my mind.” Soarin followed the rest of the boys towards their locker room. “White tie and tails,” she added, chuckling. “I’ve never heard that song sound so good.” She sprinted off for the showers.

Pinkie sat down at the table, pulled a pen from the depths of her curly pink hair, and tapped it thoughtfully against her cheek. “Decisions, decisions,” she said.

“We don’t have lots of choices,” Cheese pointed out. “That’s some decisions made for us right there.”

“OK,” said Pinkie, planting her blue and pink boots on the table and leaning back in her chair until it teetered dangerously. “Could you write this down, Cheesie? Snips and Snails—they’re a no.”

“Definitely a no,” Cheese said, drawing a strong line through their names.

“Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo—they’re a no, too. I hate saying no to them,” she added, her mouth curving down.

“You’ll think of something for them to do, Pinkie. I think that’s all they really want, anyway.”

“The Wondertones, because kapow! Wowie! Amazing!” said Pinkie, her arms describing a huge arc, and almost overbalancing.

“Totally amazing!” Cheese agreed enthusiastically.

“Flash in the Pan, because we sorta kinda have to,” continued Pinkie, “and Trixie.”

Cheese looked up from his writing. “Do you want to call Trixie, or do you want me to do it?”

“I’ll do it,” Pinkie said quickly. She picked up her phone, glanced at Trixie’s number, and dialed. “Hiya, Trixie! It’s Pinkie Pie. You’re in! I thought maybe you could perform on the small stage at 11 am.” Cheese could hear the shrill buzz of Trixie’s answer from several feet away. “Nope, doesn’t make sense to put your magic act on the big stage. — What do you mean, 2 pm on the big stage? We’ve got the Wondertones in that slot, anyway. — Small stage. — Small stage.— Big stage. — Big stage. — Listen, Trixie,” she shrieked into the phone, “you’re going on the big stage at 2 pm with full musical backup, and you’ll like it!” The shrill buzz became even shriller, and went on for some time. “Okey-dokey-lokey!” Pinkie chirped. “If you insist! Small stage at 11 am it is!”

Pinkie hung up and turned to Cheese. “The Great and Powerful Trixie’s on the small stage at 11 am. Hey there!” she added, waving at a girl who had just entered from the outside doors at the far end of the gym. She sprang over the table and cartwheeled up to the stranger. “I’m Pinkie Pie, and that’s Cheese Sandwich, and I don’t remember seeing you before. Do I know you? No, silly me, ‘cause I wouldn’t be asking that if I did know you, would I?”

The girl leaned against the back wall, radiating total disinterest. Even at rest, with her long legs and arms crossed, she was obviously an athlete. Her light green tracksuit had the letters “CP” embroidered on the front. “I’m just waiting for Rainbow Dash,” she replied, ignoring Pinkie’s questions. “Is she still here?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Pinkie. “Dashie’s still here. Can we help?”

“Oh, probably not,” said the strange girl, shaking her head so that her spiky, bright blond hair quivered, “but thanks anyhow. Nice gym, though, considering.”

Rainbow Dash came out of the girl’s locker room, her multichromatic hair still wet. She stopped short as soon as she saw the newcomer, and then her shoulders sagged. “Oh, man,” she said. “Were you out there for that trainwreck, Dusty?”

“Uh-huh,” said the girl Dash had addressed as “Dusty.” She walked up to Rainbow Dash and bumped fists with her. “And you were kicking it like nobody’s business. You’ve still got it.”

Rainbow Dash beamed. “Pinkie, this is Lightening Dust. We were on the same team for a while. She’s almost as good as me.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad you didn’t have the right kind of backup,” said Lightning Dust, “but it’s not your fault. It’s not as though you’re in an elite program anymore.”

“It’s good enough,” snapped Rainbow Dash, unconsciously clenching and unclenching her fists.

Lightning Dust stepped back, holding up both hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! That was a compliment! You’ve done some amazing things at CHS. You must be a great captain.”

“Yeah, well,” said Dash, scuffing the floor with her shoe, “I’ve got a great team. They’re all kinds of awesome. And winning isn’t everything.”

Lightning Dust tilted her head skeptically. “Really? That doesn’t sound like the Rainbow Dash I know.”

“It posilutely doesn’t!” exclaimed Pinkie. “Because usually she’s all grumpy and sourpuss when she loses, like, ANYTHING, so I’m always up in the stands screaming, ‘cause she does better when I scream at her, don’t you, Dashie? GO RAINBOW DASH!” she shrieked, exploding upwards in a shower of pink sparkles. “Like that,” she explained to Lightning Dust, hanging from the ceiling frame by one arm, and then dropping back to the floor. “But I wasn’t there today, and that was totally my fault because of the auditions, so please forgive me, ok, Dashie?” She turned to Lightning Dust. “She never loses when I scream at her,” she said, with total confidence.

“Impressive,” said Lightning Dust. “Are you the head of the cheerleading squad?”

“Nope! I couldn’t decide what club to be in, so I just make them all happy. I cheer on Dashie because we’re friends.”

Lightning Dust snorted with amusement. “You’re a stable goat.”

“A whoomina what now?” said Pinkie.

“My Dad has racehorses,” said Lightning Dust. “He says the fastest Thoroughbreds are really high-strung, so they put a goat in with them for company. Some people even have the goat walk with the horse right out to the starting post. Keeps the horse happy. I like the gym, too. Is this new?” she said, gazing around.

“Only a couple of years old,” bragged Dash. “Brand new when I got there. They probably remodeled it just for me.”

“We miss you at Cloudsdale Prep,” said Lightning Dust. “I miss you. Best competitor ever. I swear I’m going soft without you keeping me on my toes.”

“Ever hear of a personal best?” said Dash. “Eh, Cloudsdale Prep. It wasn’t for me. Or I wasn’t for it. Anyway, I’m happier here. I have lots of friends. If there’s anyone I miss, it’s probably you.”

“You’re not going to have to,” said Lightning Dust. “I’ll probably be seeing a lot more of you. I hear you’re coaching for Little League this year—the Canterlot Comets. Guess who’s coaching for Cloudsdale?”

“Awesome! No, that’ll be great,” exclaimed Dash. “You oughta see the team I’m putting together. Talented little bruisers, like we used to be. And fair warning—they’re gonna clean Cloudsdale’s clock. But, y’know,” she added self-consciously. “Winning isn’t everything.”

“No,” agreed Lightning Dust. “It’s the only thing. Lunch?”

“Sure, great! I’ve gotta lock up first, though, so we’ll have to wait for Pinkie and Cheese.”

“Oh, that’s ok,” said Pinkie. “Cheese and me are just about done. Aren’t we, Cheesie?” she called down the gym.

Cheese Sandwich was face down and snoring on top of the schedule that was still rolled out on the table. “Cheesie!” yelled Pinkie. “Wake up! Jeez, what’s wrong with you?” she asked. “Didn’t you sleep at all last night?”

“Yeah,” muttered Cheese, “sorry about that. I’ve got a wicked headache.” He reached under the table, pulled out a bottle of water, and drank half of it.

“You slept through Pinkie’s cheer? Are you ok?” asked Dash.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “It all levels off in a couple of days.” He brushed off the schedule, and began rolling it up. “I’m heading home, ok, Pinks? If I can shake the headache, I’ve got someplace I need to be.”

“Ok,” said Pinkie. “But you’ve got tomorrow, right?”

“I had plans then, too, actually,” he said, “but I can change them if you really need me to.”

“No, that’s ok,” said Pinkie. “I’ve got lots to do, so—seeya Monday, I guess.”

“Yep,” said Cheese, quickly finishing up his packing and speeding out the door.

For a guy with a headache, he was moving awfully fast.

Author's Note

And, as an extra little present, have this!

I'm making an executive decision to cut my chapters down to maybe half the size I'd planned. There were two or three more scenes in this one, and you can see how long it was getting to be. The side benefit for you is that a lot of the next chapter's already been written, and hopefully things will come out more quickly.

Mirrors, Confrontations, and Explosions

“Are we done yet?” complained Pinkie Pie, hanging from the table, head side down. “My brain is full.”

Pinkie and Cheese were finding the study session with Sunset Shimmer particularly tiresome this afternoon. Perhaps it was because the Cake Festival was coming closer and both were very aware of all the things they still had to do, or perhaps it had something to do with spring. The huge skylight let in just enough of the April sunshine to make the upper floor of the library seem very stuffy indeed.

“Yeah,” said Cheese, “mine, too. I think we’re done here.” He was bending some staples apart and testing them to see if he could coax some kind of musical pitch out of them. Surprisingly, he could.

“You are not done here,” insisted Sunset. “Not until you grasp the basics of this elementary mathematical concept.”

“When I think of ‘elementary mathemathics,’ I think ‘multiplication table,’ ” retorted Cheese. “I don’t see how anyone could think quadratic equations are elementary.”

“You’ll learn it if you want to graduate and stay on Vice Principal Luna’s good side, Cheese Sandwich, which I gather is an important motivating factor for you. As for you, Pinkie, you’ll learn it if you want to have any kind of a future at all. What do you want to do? Be stuck throwing children’s birthday parties for the rest of your life?”

Pinkie flushed as though Sunset Shimmer had struck her, and Cheese bristled, but before either of them could say anything, Sunset took a deep breath. “I am sorry,” she said. “That was an unfriendly thing to say. This does not come naturally to me.”

“Wow,” said Pinkie, “you’re as bad at friendship as Cheesie and me at math!” She jumped on one of the library chairs and began to bounce. “Good thing we’re both super patient, huh? And it’s making us completely coco-loco that we can’t make you laugh no matter what we do, so all we want to do is get away, but we wouldn’t want to if you’d smile.”

Sunset Shimmer steepled her fingers and tapped them against her chin. “So, in order for you to be cooperative, you want me to smile.”

“Yep!”

Sunset took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and furrowed her eyebrows. All at once, her eyes snapped open, and her lips parted, the corners of her mouth stretching further and further apart as she bared more of her teeth. “How’s this?” she said finally, teeth still gritted together.

Pinkie spread her fingers and thumbs into a square, held them at arm’s length, and squinted through them appraisingly. “Hmmmm.”

“I saw a smile once that looked just like that,” Cheese mused. “It was on a nature program. I’m pretty sure it was about sharks.”

“I am doing my best,” Sunset said, teeth still gritted. “Ouch.” She dropped the unnatural facial expression and rubbed her cheeks. “I am doing my best to be helpful, and you are disappointingly bad students, and I am trying to understand you, and sometimes all I want to do is to go home.” She drew a few uneven breaths.

Cheese shot Pinkie an inquiring look, but instead she said to Sunset, “Aw. Now you’re making us feel kinda bad, ‘cause all we want to do is go home, too. See! We’ve got something in common! We can be friends!” She pulled a noisemaker out of her hair and blew it, and she and Cheese flung their arms wide as though to say “ta-dah!”

Sunset did not smile. Instead, she watched as the streamers Pinkie and Cheese had emitted floated down and settled behind them. “That,” she murmured. “Exactly that.”

“Exactly what now?” said Pinkie, removing the noisemaker from her mouth and stashing it again, her eyes wide and bewildered. Cheese frowned.

Sunset sighed. “Friends are supposed to be truthful, aren’t they, Pinkie Pie? They’re supposed to share things—their concerns, their happiness, their memories, their worries.” Her eyes flicked to Cheese, who immediately dropped his gaze back to his papers and began doodling on them.

“Well, yeah,” said Pinkie. “I guess. Only not usually all at once, though, because when you tell somebody everything right away and ask lots and lots of questions, sometimes they just say things like ‘shut up, Pinkie Pie,’ or they say stuff that really means ‘shut up, Pinkie Pie,’ so now I don’t do that so much, because I want people to like me. And I guess some people take longer. It took us years before we found out you were really a uni-”

The other girl cut her off. “Then I will be truthful. I wanted you to help me with my research. You see these mirrors?”

It was hard not to see Sunset’s mirrors. There were hand mirrors scattered all over the table, one or two set up on stands at a separate desk, and even a large full-length one, just visible behind a bookcase.

“Pay no attention to the rest of them, Pinkie. I want you to look at this one.” She pointed to one of the standing mirrors on her desk. “Just sit down here, and look into the mirror, and tell me what you see in it.”

Pinkie hesitated. “Will you smile if I do?”

“I’ll do my best, yes. I’ll certainly be happier.”

“Then absotootly-lutely!” Pinkie said, and skipped over to Sunset’s desk. Cheese slid from his own chair and followed her, standing behind Pinkie as she sat.

“Stay out of the reflection,” Sunset barked at him. “Just look in, Pinkie. What do you see?” She grabbed a notebook, pen poised.

Pinkie leaned forward. “Hmmm. What was I supposed to see? Just me, I guess. Nothing different. Same me, same pink hair. Hi, me!” she said, waving at her own reflection. “I look cute. Oh, yeah, and sunshine.”

Sunset glanced up at the skylight. There was some sunshine still coming through the window, but not a lot.

“And cake. Is that all?”

“And cake,” Sunset muttered, writing it down. “Wait, what? You,” she said to Cheese. “I mean . . . would you please look into the mirror, too?”

Cheese leaned on the back of Pinkie’s chair. “Huh. Same as Pinkie, I guess. I see Pinkie. She just looks—well, like Pinkie.” He shrugged.

Sunset frowned. “You don’t see yourself?”

“No,” he said. “I guess I’m not at the correct angle.”

Sunset put down her notebook and walked behind both of them. She gazed down into the mirror and prodded it with her finger. “That can’t be right.”

Pinkie was still looking into the mirror. “Me looks kind of bored. Maybe a nice picnic would help. Or some cake.” She turned around to face Sunset Shimmer. “Is this helping? Are you smiling yet?”

“Maybe not a mirror,” muttered Sunset. “It could be anywhere or anything. Just a moment, Pinkie. I need to get some books. I’ll be right back.”

It took her some time to find the volumes she needed. The elaborately embellished books were carefully stashed behind a pile of old, out-of-date encyclopedias, so pitifully dull and useless that no one would bother looking at them. She looked at the spines of one of the books, shook her head, made a pulling motion on the end of one of the bookcases, deposited the book into the emptiness that had been revealed, and closed it again. It took her a bit more time to find the relevant chapters, with their sketches of mirrors, gates, and simple, darkened openings. Her work was interrupted by the sound of a terrific crash, followed by the sound of several bookcases’ worth of books sliding to the floor.

She raced around the corner to see piles and piles of books upended onto the floor. In the center, held aloft by Cheese, was Pinkie Pie, her hair puffed out to an enormous volume and her cheeks reddened. Some bootprints on the ceiling suggested that she’d recently been upside down. Her current position also suggested that she’d been on her way straight down when Cheese had caught her. Her pink skirt was fluffed up, and he had his arms gripped around her thighs. He had also turned a brilliant shade of red.

“Whee!” cried Pinkie. “You were gone like a super long time and we got really bored and I said to Cheesie that I wanted to try out some aerials like we’d been talking about and he bet me I couldn’t do them and I said ‘watch me’ and he said ‘you can’t do them without me, Pinks, no one does aerials on their own’ so we tried and I think we’re going to be really good, only we bumped into a lot of bookcases this time. Sorry!”

As she was talking, Cheese was clearly trying to figure out exactly how to put her down without her skirt sliding up any more than it already was. It was a complicated process. Finally he gave up, lifted her so that she could place her foot on his shoulder, and she vaulted off as though he had been a gymnastics horse.

Sunset Shimmer placed her hand in front of her eyes and sighed.

“I think you are right,” she said. “We’re done here. My brain is full.”

“Why a fez?” said Pinkie, looking at Cheese’s hat.

“It’s a fez kind of day,” said Cheese.

It was also a beautiful day. There was still a fair amount of it left, too, since Sunset Shimmer had been forced to let them go relatively early. They were joined by Fluttershy, who had been studying on her own, far away on the first floor, and Rainbow Dash, who had finished her own tutoring session, provided by the Wondercolts.

“Little League practice doesn’t start for an hour,” said Rainbow Dash, checking her phone. “Hey, free time before I start busting those little squirts with the Canterlot Comets. And I can use the break.”

“I’m covering the evening shift at the Animal Clinic,” said Fluttershy. “Oh, my. It’s nice to have an hour or two with nothing to do.”

“Oo!” exclaimed Pinkie. “I know! Why don’t you all come to Sugarcube’s? You can get a snack, Dashie, and you can get a salad or a sandwich to take with you,” she said, turning to Fluttershy, “and we’ve all got some time to spend with our besties together, which is awesome!” She clasped her hands together in glee.

Cheese stood there, accordion on his back, hesitating. Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on, Cheese. Don’t tell me you gotta go home to the Wicked Witch of the West or whatever. It’s just an hour.”

Cheese smiled. “Well, all right,” he said, and he fell in step with them. As if by some unspoken agreement, they took the long way towards Sugarcube’s, passing shops and businesses they didn’t usually see.

“And speaking of the Wicked Witch of the West . . .” began Rainbow Dash.

“Uh-oh,” said Cheese.

“What’s up with you, anyway? You’re always freaked out about the time, like you were Cinderfella or something and have to race back home before you turn into a moose.” She stopped, and the rest of the girls stopped with her.

“Yeah!” burst out Pinkie Pie. “I mean, I’ve been trying not to say anything about it, because I am Pinkamena Tactful Pie, but I still worry.”

“What is this?” Cheese protested. “Ask Cheese A Lot Of Awkward Questions Day? First Sunset Shimmer, now you guys.”

“We just want to make sure you’re ok,” murmured Fluttershy, putting her hand on his arm.

“And like, if you’ve got some wicked stepmother or something,” added Pinkie.

“Because whatever she’s like, we’ve dealt with worse than her,” finished Rainbow Dash. They formed a solid phalanx across the sidewalk, Dash with her arms folded.

Cheese glanced at each of them, and then laughed. “Wicked stepmother? Whoo! Have you guys been watching too many fairy tales?” None of them budged. “OK, OK,” he said, throwing up his hands. “My Great Aunt Mela is not a wicked stepmother. She’s not anybody’s stepmother, and she’d be really annoyed to hear you say so. She’s pretty ok. Well,” he amended, “she’s not great, and she’s super strict, but she’s not all that bad, and she’s just doing what she has to. At least she isn’t making me wear uniforms or have stupid haircuts. It could be a lot worse. I do not sleep in the basement, I’m not forced to be the maid, and there is no wicked stepmother involved. Or singing mice. Geez, shades of Disney. Cheesy Swear.”

They still didn’t budge. Fluttershy put her hand on his arm again and looked at him as though he were a neglected puppy. “But you’d tell us,” she said, “if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

Cheese hesitated again.

“Seriously,” said Rainbow Dash. “These guys are great. And it’s no big whoop. So you got expelled a few times.” She started walking again, and the rest followed her.

“Actually, technically, only once,” Cheese said.

“Once, twice, whatever, no big deal,” replied Dash, brushing this off. “Hey, I got expelled, too, and I thought my life was totally ruined, and look at me now. Team Captain, Little League coach—I’ve got it pretty sweet.”

Pinkie nodded vigorously. “Now everybody loves Dashie,” she agreed, “because we all think she’s awesome GO WONDERCOLTS!” she added, her voice sailing into the stratosphere as she jumped into the air.

“We both used to go to Cloudsdale Prep,” explained Fluttershy, “but I wasn’t all that happy, and Rainbow—she used to be a weeny bit temperamental.”

“Yeah,” said Dash, rolling her eyes, “what Fluttershy means is that I have a short fuse and I solved a lot of problems with my fists.”

“I don’t think I’d be here if you hadn’t,” said Fluttershy.

Dash looked down at her team jacket, playing with the zipper, and cleared her throat. “Like I was saying,” she said, “I did that once too many times and I was out on my tail. But there was CHS, and I started freshman year like all the other freshmen, and Flutters started then, too, and Pinkie made friends with us the first day, like she always does, and now I don’t blow my stack like that anymore.” She threw an arm around Pinkie and Fluttershy. “ Because they’re my besties and my besties are all awesome, and with them, there’s nothing I can’t do. Right, guys?” She squeezed both of them.

“Group hug!” shrieked Pinkie, grabbing Cheese’s hand, and he was pulled in, accordion and all, before he had time to resist.

“That’s enough with the mushy stuff, guys,” said Dash, breaking the hug and laughing, “but yeah, you count, Cheese. At least you do with me.”

Cheese had missed this last bit. He’d broken out of the hug as soon as he could, and now he was at a store window, staring at something inside.

“Oh, wow,” said Cheese, glued to the window, his fingers pressed against the glass.

They came over to see what he was looking at. There were a lot of different things it could have been. The store was a pawnshop, and it had a little bit of everything, including some very bizarre everythings. A sign over the door proudly proclaimed that it was the Flim Flam Brothers Everything Under The Sun Emporium. However, by following his sightline, it became obvious that he was looking at—

“A rubber chicken?” Rainbow Dash said, raising one eyebrow. “Why a rubber chicken?”

Cheese shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always wanted one. Other guys want red convertibles, I want a rubber chicken.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t want to get one here. They tried to sell AJ her own bass back for a thousand dollars.”

“That reminds me,” said Cheese. He pulled out his phone, texted something, and went back to staring at the rubber chicken.

“The mark-up was a teeny bit high,” agreed Fluttershy.

“C’mon, Cheesie,” urged Pinkie, pulling at his hand. “We have to get you away before they see you, because they’ll just sell you something you don’t need or something for way too much.” They all moved away from the storefront as quickly and quietly as possible. “And anyway, you don’t have to buy a rubber chicken, silly, because I’ll give you one of mine and I would have before. You should have said you wanted one.”

“I can’t take one of your rubber chickens,” he protested.

“Sure you can!” exclaimed Pinkie. “I’ve got a bunch of them. It can just be an early birthday present.”

“No,” he said, “you’ve already given me enough . . . um, I mean, yours is . . . I mean, do you just give presents to people you haven’t known all that long?”

Pinkie dropped his hand, looking confused. “Yes,” she said. “And I thought you wanted a rubber chicken, and I have more than one, so why not a rubber chicken from me?”

Cheese’s phone made a pinging sound, and he took it out and looked at it. “Sorry,” he said, “change of plans. I’ve got to go. You said you needed me to stop by on Sunday, right?”

“Yep,” said Pinkie. “But not Saturday, because Dashie coaches the Comets and they’re playing on Saturday and I have to be there GO COMETS!” she shrieked, and then said in a more normal voice, “and you could come, too.”

“Gotta have Pinkie there,” Dash said. “She’s our good luck charm.”

“Actually,” said Cheese, “I’d like to, but I’ve got plans. And no, it’s not my wicked aunt Mela,” he added, rolling his eyes, “I just have plans. I’ll stop by if I can, but I don’t think I’m going to have time. Sorry,” he added to Pinkie. “Some other time, maybe.” He settled his accordion case and began walking off in another direction.

“Do you need a ride?” called Fluttershy.

“Nope, got one,” he called back, waving at them. “Later!” He flipped the fez into the air, grabbed a straw hat, tipped it, and was gone.

“There’s something really strange going on,” mused Pinkie, for about the fortieth time.

She, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy were occupying one of the booths at Sugarcube’s. Fluttershy was eating a salad. Rainbow Dash had chosen a smoothie with lots of extra supplements. As much as she pretended not to care about it, her desire to be the best athlete at CHS and to “kick the competition in the keister” meant that she trained, worked out, and ate a lot of healthy food when she thought no one was paying attention. Pinkie, on the other hand, was drinking an immense pink concoction with sugar sprinkles, caramel syrup, and lots of extra whipped cream.

“Yeah, you said,” muttered Rainbow Dash.

“I mean he’s not even answering my texts for hours sometimes and he always used to. And he says his Great Auntie Mela is ok and I totally don’t believe in Auntie Mela, but even if she’s real and she’s not so bad, there’s something really, really, really strange going on!”

“You said that, too.”

“No,” Pinkie protested, “you really don’t understand, because Cheesie is totally afraid of somebody and I always figured it was whoever he lived with and now he says he lives with his Auntie Mela and she’s ok, so then he’s not afraid of Auntie Mela, so the question is if he isn’t afraid of his Auntie Mela, who is he afraid of?” Her leg had been jiggling as she reeled this off at top speed, and now it hit the bottom of the table and banged into Rainbow Dash.

“Watch it, Pinkie,” she complained. “Geez, you are hyper today. What’s with that?”

“Are you ok?” said Fluttershy.

“Me?” said Pinkie. “I’m totally ok, who said I wasn’t ok? I’m just thinking out loud, because I know something is wrong.”

“Are you sure Cheese is afraid of somebody?” asked Fluttershy, and took a small bite of salad.

“Yep,” said Pinkie, and took a giant sip of her drink, but she didn’t elaborate.

“I think you’re right,” said Fluttershy, and she glanced over at Rainbow Dash. “But I think he’s less nervous than he used to be. It’s like when we get puppies or kitties and get them out making friends. They stop hiding at the back of the cage, and Cheese hasn’t been at the back of the cage in a long time.”

“Or sitting in a litter box,” said Rainbow Dash. “Look, I think you’re both making something out of nothing. If he’s got a problem, he comes to us, he tells us about it, and we’ll do something about it. If not, maybe he’s just getting a life. Good for him.”

Fluttershy and Pinkie exchanged glances, and Pinkie began poking at her fluffy pink drink with her straw. She seemed to have run down for the day, and didn’t want to talk any more.

In a booth opposite theirs, Diamond Tiara leaned out to watch the three friends. She tried to catch Pinkie’s attention, but Pinkie was still looking down and poking at her glass. Finally, she made eye contact with Fluttershy, unwrapped a vanilla cupcake, broke it in half, smirked, and placed one of the halves in the carrier she took nearly everywhere and which held a tiny and worried-looking Chihuahua. Coughing and gagging sounds came from inside the carrier.

Fluttershy gasped. “She shouldn’t give her dog people treats like that!” she exclaimed. “It could make him really, really sick!”

“You should go over there and tell her that,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Yes,” said Fluttershy unhappily. “If it had been a chocolate cupcake, I would have grabbed him and we’d be on our way down to the clinic right this minute, but – well, as it is, it’ll just make him sick from all the sugar and fat. She still shouldn’t do it.”

“Well, if it’s a Sugarcube’s cupcake, it would be a great way to go. Right, Pinkie?” said Rainbow Dash, elbowing Pinkie in the side.

Pinkie had stopped poking at her drink and was now just staring at it. “That wasn’t a Sugarcube's cupcake,” she said, without looking up.

“How could you tell?” said Rainbow Dash. “You didn’t even look at it!”

“The Cakes don’t use that kind of paper, and it’s not the right size. I don’t know what kind it was, but it wasn’t one of ours. Anyhoo—I know you both probably ought to be going.”

“Yeah—practice starts really soon,” said Rainbow Dash.

“I’ll drop you off,” said Fluttershy. “I have to be at the clinic soon. Don’t worry, Pinkie,” she said, giving her friend a hug. “Do you want me to call you later?”

“Nope,” said Pinkie, smiling brightly, although the smile looked a little stuck at the corners. “I’m going to be super busy. I’m testing some new recipes I made up.”

“You have gotten awesome at that,” said Rainbow Dash. “Heck, you were burning cookies a couple of months ago. Gotta stay fit right now, though. I wish I could taste all of them, but I don’t think anyone could keep up.”

“I know,” said Pinkie, and sighed.

“Honey, you are just circling around like a gerbil on a wheel,” said Applejack, as she listened to Pinkie Pie worry once again.

They had just received their math tests back from Mr. Doodle. Pinkie’s grade was unusually good, but she had barely noticed, and carried on talking to Applejack as though nothing had happened.

“Because I keep thinking there’s something wrong or something I should know about or something I’m missing and I don’t get it, and it’s making me feel really stupid,” continued Pinkie.

“You can’t be that stupid,” Applejack pointed out. “You just got a B+ on that—better ‘n me.”

“I mean there has to be something, because why else would Sunset Shimmer be trying to figure out all kinds of things about Cheesie and me, and there isn’t anything, well, there are a few things but not anything dangerous or bad, or I don’t think so.”

“No, nothing dangerous or bad about you, sugarcube. Are you feeling all right?”

“Because I keep trying to put everything together about the headaches and all the schools and the other stuff and it doesn’t really make sense, and then Sunset asks some more questions—”

“Miss Pie?” Mr. Doodle said. “Class has started. Maybe you can keep your conversation until after it is over, unless it’s something you want to share with the group?”

Pinkie opened her mouth, and Applejack leaned forward, ready to interrupt or stop her if she said anything, but instead Pinkie changed her mind and closed her mouth again. She was quiet for almost two minutes before she nudged Applejack and hissed, “and I feel like such a bad friend.”

Applejack frowned. “Heck with Cheese, I’m worried about you. Think maybe I better call Aunt Cloudy or something.”

“No no no no no, I’m just dandy, yes indeedily, but . . .”

“Shh,” said Applejack, as Mr. Doodle looked in their direction again. “You think Cheese is lyin’ to you or somethin’?”

“No! Cheesie doesn’t lie, he just—he just doesn’t always tell me all the way the truth,” said Pinkie, jabbing holes in a piece of paper. Applejack shook her head, but didn’t say anything until after school.

“C’mon, Pinkie,” she said, pulling her by the hand. “I’m gonna drop you off at Sugarcube’s
and you can leave your books and I can explain a few things, ‘cause I’m afraid I haven’t been telling all you the way the truth, either.”

“Now, listen,” said Applejack, downshifting her truck with an ugly noise, “some of this is my own dang fault, and I should never of gotten in the middle, but you gotta promise you’ll calm down a bit, ok? I don’t know if it’s Sunset gettin’ to you or too much work or what, but I’m that far away from telling the Cakes you can’t . . .”

“No, I’m fine, honest,” said Pinkie.

“Ok, ‘cause you aren’t gonna like this. I been coverin’ up for Cheese. And I gotta end that, right here, right now.” They pulled into the dirt drive of Sweet Apple Acres, and Applejack led Pinkie back behind the house to a decrepit old barn.

The building clearly hadn’t been used for its intended purpose in a very long time. The boards had shrunk and some had fallen away, until it looked more like a child’s toy wooden barn: a box with four brittle walls. Applejack kicked aside the barn door, which wobbled. “Cheese?” she called. “You got company.”

A long pair of legs protruded from underneath a weird, solid-looking vehicle of unknown but somehow menacing purpose. “What?”

“I said, get on out here.”

Cheese slid out on a dolly, face streaked with grease. “And I said, ‘what?’ Oh,” he added, looking at Pinkie. “I thought you Cheesy Promised not to say anything,” he complained to Applejack.

Pinkie dropped down beside him. “She broke a Pinkie Promise?” she gasped.

Cheese nodded. “Cheesy Promise,” he said. “Same thing.”

They both looked at Applejack accusingly.

“Whoa, Nellie!” said Applejack. “I just can’t win for losing, can I? Well, I am sorry for loaning you my barn, Cheese, and for coverin’ up for you when I can’t lie to save my skin.”

“Yeah, true,” Cheese acknowledged. “It’s not really ready yet, Pinkie. I wasn’t sure it would be ready in time, anyway.” He rose, dusting off straw and making himself a bit greasier in the process.

“What is it?” said Pinkie, stepping back and looking at the thing Cheese had been working on.

“Well,” he said shyly, “you did say you wanted a party cannon.”

Pinkie’s eyes widened and her hands flew to her cheeks. She seemed to have been temporarily struck dumb. “Oh,” she said at last, “it’s beautiful.”

That wasn’t the word most people probably would have picked to describe the party cannon, which was still olive drab and iron gray and showed too clearly its bastard parentage of old farm equipment and military surplus, but Pinkie was much too enchanted by its ability to hold large payloads of streamers and confetti to notice these details.

“I told you Aunt Mela wasn’t always that bad,” he said. “The pressure’s lightning up a bit, and I think she doesn’t report back in to HQ the way she’s supposed to. I brought back some of my homework and tests, and the A in AP Biology went over well—and yes, I earned it,” he said in response to Applejack’s skeptical look. “You know Fluttershy wouldn’t let me cheat. I still have to get back pretty early, but there’s a bit less questioning of what I’m up to in the afternoons, anyway. And this is what I used it on. I’ve had it up my sleeve for weeks.”

“I got some of the design details and the explosives from Trixie. She wasn’t really thrilled with me after the audition stuff, but she did keep her promises about that. I couldn’t have done it without Applejack, and I’m sorry for putting you on the spot, but there was nowhere else I could work on it. I couldn’t have done it without Big Mac, either, so I guess you could say it’s from all of us.”

“I am not taking any responsibility for that contraption,” said Applejack. “I wouldn’t touch it if you paid me.”

Pinkie was climbing all over it, staring down the biggest barrel and dropping down into the driver’s seat. “Wouldn’t it be cool if either of us had a driver’s license?” she gushed.

“Somehow, I’m not too sorry you don’t,” muttered Applejack.

“So,” Cheese said, “I figured it was about time I got you a birthday present. I owe you.”

Applejack frowned slightly, trying to make sense of this, but Pinkie was still too taken with her party cannon to notice. “What’s this one do?” she said, jabbing at one of the controls.

“Um,” Cheese warned, “that’s one of the things Trixie designed, and I’m not too sure about it yet, so I wouldn’t . . . ”

The ensuing blast blew out most of one of the walls. The air was suddenly filled with streamers, confetti, hay, and sawdust.

“Anyway,” said Cheese, coughing, as the smoke cleared, “Happy Early Birthday, Pinkie.”

Author's Note

Author’s notes:

Well, here it is—Chapter 5, and we are about halfway through our journey. I hope this answers a few questions, although naturally I hope it doesn’t answer all of them.

I’m pretty sure that “my brain is full” comes from Gary Larson, although I couldn’t swear to it.

Never, ever, ever practice aerials like that, unless you are a fictional character! I had a dance teacher, a professional, who was casually practicing with a partner and he dropped her and she broke her neck. She very nearly spent the rest of her life as a quadraplegic. She recovered, amazingly enough, but the sign clearly reads: “actions performed by fictional cartoon characters: do not attempt.”

Also note that Boneless is indeed in the Flim Flam brothers' pawnshop.

I don't think there's much more to add, except that now that it's summer, I should probably be able to update more often. I have "real" writing to do, but also a lot more flexibility, and my goal is to finish everything before Rainbow Rocks comes out in September.

And I'd like to thank my local cupcakery for helping with such delicious "research."

Happy Birthday, Pinkie Pie

From the outside, Sugarcube’s and its attached bakery appeared to be doing a roaring business. In fact, both were closed. It was Pinkie Pie’s seventeenth birthday, and Mr. and Mrs. Cake had closed early so that Pinkie could celebrate with her friends, which, practically speaking, involved most of Canterlot High School and a good part of the town as well.

Cheese had set up his accordion and music stand in Sugarcube’s itself, on a raised platform which normally held several tables, but which was sometimes cleared for performers on Friday coffeehouse nights. Pinkie Pie raced back and forth between the kitchen, the bakery, and the coffeehouse, carrying platter after platter of cupcakes. She moved so quickly that she was a blur of pink curly hair, ruffled apron, and blue boots, here now and gone a second later, leaving a delicious sugary fragrance behind her. Applejack tried to step in and help, but Pinkie had already burst through the kitchen’s swinging doors several times in each direction before she managed to grab her.

“Slow down there, Pinkie! Let me take over for a while. Seems a pity for you to do all the work, since it’s your party and all.” She relieved Pinkie of two of the platters of cupcakes, which left Pinkie with three: one in each hand and the third on a tray slung around her neck and shoulders.

“I can have fun while I’m giving out cupcakes, silly!” burbled Pinkie. “Giving away cupcakes is fun! Plus I baked them all myself, so watching people smile when they try them is double extra super fun!”

“You baked ‘em all, too? When’d you get up? Six am?”

“Four thirty, actually, but I wasn’t a bit sleepy anyhow. I was up late, thinking about new cupcake flavors and more activities for the Cake Festival, and then I started redecorating my room, but I thought it was better the way it was and I put it all back like it was before, and then I went downstairs to the kitchen and started baking, but don’t worry, three hours of sleep was plenty. Hiya, Mr. Cake! Thanks for letting us have the space for my party!”

Mr. Cake smiled, although he kept one eye on his daughter Pumpkin, who was deep in the throes of a sugar high. “We were glad to do it, Pinkie. You’re such a big help. Have you tried some of the new cupcakes she’s come up with?” he said, turning to Applejack. “We’re trying them out in the shop and they are selling like crazy, and NO NO NO Pumpkin, we do not grab cupcakes without asking Daddy! Don’t—”

But Mr. Cake was already too late; Pumpkin had shoved the entire cupcake into her mouth whole.

“She’s already had four,” he said in despair. “Wait for Daddy, Pumpkin!” he cried, as he zoomed off after her.

“Excuse me, miss,” someone behind Pinkie’s back said, in a deep, Southern-tinged accent, “but did I hear you say you came up with new cupcake flavors yourself?”

Pinkie turned, still balancing her three trays. The owner of the voice proved to be a tall man with dark hair. He was impeccably dressed, and exuded charm and expensive aftershave.

“Yeppers!” said Pinkie. “I’m Pinkie Pie, and this is Applejack, and I don’t remember you, so you must have come with somebody, but it’s my birthday and welcome to my party!

“Filthy Rich,” he said, and smiled. The veneers on his teeth glinted. “Diamond Tiara’s father. I’d offer to shake hands, but . . .” He glanced at the trays Pinkie was carrying.

“Oh, no problem,” said Pinkie, and somehow managed to free her right hand while still balancing her cupcake trays. Mr. Rich seemed taken aback for a moment, and then smiled again, and shook Pinkie’s hand.

“My little girl raves about your cupcakes, Miss Pie. And so many different kinds! Now, which would that one be?”

“Those are cotton candy funfetti surprise, and those are chocolate chip cookie dough, and those are lemon meringue, and those are strawberry cream.”

“Well, they look scrumptious, young lady. Do you mind if I try one?”

“Noperooni!” said Pinkie. “That’s what they’re for!”

Filthy Rich picked up a cupcake, peeled off the paper, and took a careful bite. Instantly, his face was suffused with pure bliss. After a moment, he said, “Now I see exactly what my Diamond has been telling me. Why, these are almost inimitable, Miss Pie. I’ll just take this and wrap it up for later. And a very happy birthday to you.” He carefully wrapped half of his cupcake in a paper napkin, nodded to Pinkie, and turned away.

Applejack watched Mr. Rich thread his way back through the crowd. “Now that sure is funny.”

“What’s funny?” said Cheese, popping up behind her. “I hope you’re talking about me. Oh, man, those look great,” he added, grabbing three cupcakes and immediately starting to eat one.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” said Applejack.

“Mmphm?”

“You’re eating one and you’ve got one for –well, two for later!”

“Only one now, actually,” said Cheese, unwrapping the second. “What’s your point? --Thanks!” he added to a fellow partygoer who had just gone by, saying, “Nice job!”

“Filthy Rich just ate half a cupcake and saved the rest. That’s funny peculiar,” said Applejack, “not funny hah-hah.”

“Oh, lighten up, AJ,” said Rainbow Dash, joining them and scooping up a cupcake. “Maybe he’s just obsessive about his weight. Hey, happy birthday, Pinkie! Let’s stash those somewhere so you can get your party thing on!”

Cheese and Rainbow Dash each took a tray, and together they moved over to a table and placed the cupcakes down. Cheese’s third cupcake was long gone, and he’d already acquired another.

“Where do you put all that?” said Applejack, gesturing at Cheese’s skinny frame.

“I wanted to try them all,” he said, with an attempt at dignity, “and I’ve only got fifteen minutes before I play the next set.”

“Fifteen minutes?” squeaked Pinkie. “Then we’d better get in our dancing now!”

She grabbed Cheese’s hand and yanked him into the coffeehouse. A minute or two later, loud stomps and crashes, whooping, and applause indicated that Pinkie and Cheese had made some progress in their swing dance practice and were now taking it public.

Rarity and Fluttershy came out of the coffeehouse and joined Applejack and Rainbow Dash.

“Pinkie Pie certainly is exuberant today,” said Rarity. “I can’t understand dancing being quite so,” she shuddered, “vigorous.”

“I’d call it hyper,” said Rainbow Dash, “and I mean hyper even for Pinkie. At least she’s getting some exercise.”

Fluttershy winced at the crashing noises from the other room. “Goodness,” she said, “I do hope no one gets hurt.”

Dash shrugged. “ You know Pinkie,” she said. “I’ve seen her do some pretty wild stuff and not get hurt. Come on, I want to get some non-cupcake food before I eat any more cupcakes.” She moved towards another table and began to pile her plate high.

“Doesn’t it seem . . . crowded to you?” gasped Fluttershy, trying to squeeze in behind Dash. Applejack gestured for her to go ahead, so that Fluttershy was protected between her two friends.

“Crowded, perhaps, but such a success!” said Rarity, selecting a few perfect strawberries. “Most of the school has stopped by, influential members of the community . . . is it true that Mr. Rich is here?”

“He sure was,” said Applejack. “He was sweet-talking Pinkie something fierce about those cupcakes."

“And the Mayor’s here!” said Fluttershy. “I was so assertive. I went right up to her and I talked to her about all those bunnies in the park and what we have to do about them. Did you know that . . . .”

“We do,” Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash chorused, and they stepped away from the table to allow other guests to get to the food. They found a slightly quieter place to stand, close to the bakery counter, where they could see the whole room.

“I see that ‘The Great and Powerful Trixie’ is here,” said Rarity, the air quotes clearly audible in her tone of voice, and sniffed. Trixie was indeed at the party, and while she was still wearing as many stars as a circus poster, she seemed to be talking earnestly to a very large boy in a perfectly normal way.

Rainbow Dash groaned, her mouth full of food, and then swallowed. “Tell me about it,” she moaned. “She grabbed me earlier, and she would not shut up about comic books. I grabbed poor old Bulk there, shoved him in front of me, and escaped while I still could.”

“Oh, poor cousin Snowflake,” said Fluttershy. “But at least Trixie’s interested in something other than herself--I mean, her magic act. That’s got to be a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Rainbow Dash replied, frowning. No one heard the bakery doorbell tinkle over all the talking and the noise from the next room.

“I think it speaks very well of Pinkie that so many people are here to celebrate her birthday,” said Rarity, as she sipped a glass of sparkling water. “It seems that nearly everyone who is anyone is here.”

“Speak of the devil,” muttered Applejack, and they followed her gaze to where Sunset Shimmer stood, just inside the shop door. Slowly, the other Canterlot High students stopped talking and turned to look at the new arrival, and the adults followed their lead.

Sunset Shimmer lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?” she asked, with something that wasn’t quite a smile. “May I help you?”

All at once, everybody decided that they were much more interested in the conversations they’d been having before Sunset entered the bakery. She strode towards the group at the counter, who instinctively took a slight step back. Applejack was the first to speak.

“Well, uh, Sunset, uh—guess Pinkie must’ve asked you. Well, that’s just dandy.”

“We had no idea you’d come to a party,” Fluttershy whispered.

“I didn’t, either,” said Sunset Shimmer. “In fact, I had no intention of coming. I haven’t been to a party since the Fall Formal last year, and you can see for yourselves how popular I am. I actively planned not to come, and yet here I am, along with most of Canterlot High and a large cross-section of the entire community, and I find that very interesting.”

“Hey,” snapped Rainbow Dash, “what’s so strange about coming to one of Pinkie’s parties? They’re popular!”

“This popular?”

Suddenly, it did seem a little bit strange. It was Saturday night, and surely a lot of people had other things they wanted to do, like dates and cooler parties, and yet here they were, jammed into Sugarcube’s and probably breaking the fire code, only the Fire Chief was also here and was having such a good time that he didn’t seem to care. Trixie, who didn’t like Pinkie, the Mayor, and Filthy Rich had all turned up for a teenager’s birthday party. The stomping sounds from the other room stopped, and a loud round of applause and cheers suggested that Pinkie and Cheese had finished dancing.

“And I will bet anything,” continued Sunset, “that Pinkie’s last birthday didn’t have half as many people at it. I wasn’t there. And that was her sixteenth, and you’d think it would have been more important. What I want to know is, what changed?”

Pinkie’s friends thought for a minute. “The cupcakes?” suggested Applejack.

“The cupcakes are pretty radical,” agreed Rainbow Dash, “or maybe people at school just aren’t scared of you anymore and don’t care what you think.”

Sunset snorted and seemed about to say something, but Pinkie burst into the bakery, again dragging Cheese by the hand. On seeing Sunset, they skidded to a stop with a sound like the metallic squealing of brakes. They stared at her for a long moment, and then Pinkie sprang into Sunset’s arms with a happy cry and a burst of confetti, so that the older girl was forced to catch her. “Whee! You did your friendship homework after all! I’m, like, so proud of you!”

“Um, yes,” said Sunset, carefully placing Pinkie back on the ground. She narrowed her eyes and glanced back and forth, from Pinkie to Cheese, from Cheese to Pinkie, until Cheese lowered his arm and started juggling to break up the awkwardness.

“Have you tried one of the cotton candy funfetti surprise cupcakes?” said Pinkie, grabbing one seemingly from nowhere. “They’re filled with noms!” She held the cupcake right in front of Sunset’s face, smiling and batting her eyes, until Sunset was forced to take it. She ate the pink cupcake and seemed to be enjoying it, although her eyes moved from the confetti on the floor, to Cheese’s juggling, back to Pinkie, and to the universally cheerful guests, as though she were calculating something.

“We were just remarking on the success of your party, Pinkie,” said Rarity. “It seems that everybody is here.”

Pinkie looked down. “Not exactly everybody,” she murmured, scraping the toe of her boot on the floor. “Mom and Dad and my little sisters couldn’t get a ride, so they couldn’t be here. And Maud’s going to graduate school and it’s really, really, really far away. And I miss them all. It feels weird not having them here on my birthday, you know what I mean?”

“Not really,” said Cheese. Everyone stared at him. “Sorry,” he added, “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. I just never think about it.”

“Why, don’t you ever have your family together for birthdays?” asked Applejack.

Cheese looked up at the ceiling and knitted his brows, trying to remember. “Not for a while,” he said. “Maybe four—no, probably more like six or seven years. It’s no big deal,” he explained, on seeing Pinkie and Applejack’s horrified expressions. “Like I said, I never think about it anymore. But I can see it’s a big deal for Pinkie. I hope it hasn’t ruined your birthday or anything.”

“Ruined!” said Pinkie, literally bouncing back up with a wide smile. “I know I need to stay here, and the Cakes are amazingly nice, and it’s my birthday, and I’ve got the bestest friends, and my family sent cards and nice presents. PLUS I got a party cannon this year, which is like totally the super-duperiest best present ever.”

“Well,” said Cheese, turning pink, “it’s not as though I made it all by myself. You know Applejack lent her barn . . .”

“And my conscience kicks me for it every day,” muttered Applejack.

“And Big Mac helped with the mechanics, and of course Trixie got me some of the materials.”

“Ooo, that’s right! Hey, there she is!” exclaimed Pinkie, and waved at Trixie, who was on the opposite side of the room. “HEY, TRIXIE! THANKS FOR THE BLACK POWDER AND THE FUSE WIRE! THEY’RE GONNA BE SUPER FUN TO PLAY WITH!”

Everyone in the bakery moved slightly away from both Pinkie and Trixie, who stood frozen where she was with a nervous grin.

“Welp,” said Cheese, glancing at his watch, “I think that’s my cue to go back to playing now.”

Cheese went back to the coffeehouse, and Applejack convinced Pinkie to allow her to keep the tables filled so she could enjoy her birthday, but even then, Pinkie wouldn’t stop working. She kept blowing up balloons, which floated gently to the ceiling, although there was no helium tank in sight. She organized a game of Pin The Tail On The Pony and convinced the Mayor to join in. Even Mr. Doodle made an appearance—to everyone’s surprise—apparently dragged to the party by Mrs. Matilda, who seemed to be his girlfriend now—to absolutely no one’s surprise. And all the time, Sunset Shimmer scrutinized the partygoers, Cheese, and Pinkie, as though she could see things that they couldn’t: immense cakes, vats of punch, and brilliant, garish colors, all punctuated with the polka music Cheese had shifted into for his second set.

At last, Cheese finished playing and began packing up. The crowd began to chatter excitedly. Mrs. Cake had just disappeared into the kitchen, and they guessed that she had gone to put the finishing touches on Pinkie’s birthday cake. It took some time for Applejack to find Pinkie and get her to drop what she was doing and come into the coffeehouse to blow out the candles.

Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and Rarity stood near Cheese as he sorted through music and whistled. All at once, a wailing tune issued from his back pocket—something that did not sound at all like polka. He froze, and then reached back and extracted his phone as though it might contain something explosive.

“Hello?” he said. “No, yeah, sorry I wasn’t home. It’s not that late. What time is it where you are? – Are you kidding me? You’re up at two-thirty in the morning for this? What? No, I’m not at a party.”

Someone chose that moment to blow a noisemaker and start a chant of “Let’s hear it for the birthday girl! PIN-KIE PIE! PIN-KIE PIE!”

“Well, all right, it is a party,” admitted Cheese, “but I’m not throwing it. I’m – just playing at it. Like a job. – Well, I’m sorry, you never clarified that for me. I assumed you’d want me to have a job.” He slumped as whoever it was on the other end of the line went on, and on, and on. “Yes. – Yes.—I’ll be there in an hour,” he said, glancing around at the activity behind him. “No, not twenty minutes, I can’t get back in twenty minutes!—Yes, I’m aware that I have an eight o’clock curfew, but just—forty minutes?—Half an hour? – Fine,” he snapped. “Twenty minutes. I look forward to it.” He powered down the phone and muttered, “Twenty minutes. Guys, I have got to go. Right now.”

“Seriously?” said Rainbow Dash.

“Seriously,” Cheese said, savagely jamming sheets of music into his bags with a grim expression on his face. “When she says twenty minutes, she means twenty minutes. It’ll be a miracle if I get there.”

“I’ll give you a ride home,” said Fluttershy.

“Would you? You’re a lifesaver, Fluttershy,” said Cheese. Fluttershy disappeared out the door to get her car.

Rarity removed the sheets of music Cheese was crushing in his hand. “You’re getting those all creased,” she said. ‘Rainbow Dash and I will finish packing your things. You should go and say goodbye to Pinkie and wish her a happy birthday.”

“Uh, sure, whatever,” agreed Rainbow Dash. “You go do that.”

Cheese disappeared into the crowd while Rainbow Dash and Rarity quickly packed. “It’s no good,” he said as he returned, shaking his head. “She’s too distracted, and too many people want to talk to her. I can’t even get her attention.”

Fluttershy peeked her head around the door. “I’m ready when you’re ready, Cheese, but there’s no rush. Ooo, look, there’s the cake!”

“It’s beautiful,” Rarity sighed. “Mrs. Cake did such a lovely job.”

Cheese anxiously glanced at his watch a few more times. “I have to go. I’ll probably be late as it is and catch hell for it. Tell her I said goodbye, ok?”

Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash began to carry the music stand and bags of music out to the car, but Cheese lingered in the doorway as long as he dared. Pinkie was pushed towards the cake, laughing, as all the candles were lit up. Finally, Cheese sighed, shrugged, picked up his accordion, and walked out.

Pinkie Pie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out every single candle. Then she glanced towards the doorway and smiled.

But Cheese was already gone.

Author's Note

Once again, I chopped this chapter in half because it was going to be very long, and because the next one will be very pivotal. Expect that fairly soon.

I can't think of much to say about this, except that I do keep track of my cupcake recipes. I love researching this thing.

Breaking the charm

“So we play Cloudsdale on Saturday,” said Rainbow Dash, unconsciously throwing her shoulders back, “and we’re gonna hand them their pride on a platter, but I’m calling a lot of extra practices, just in case. ‘Not an elite program,’ my—”

“Rainbow really wants to win,” Fluttershy said quickly, cutting off the end of Dash’s sentence.

“Yessiree!” agreed Pinkie. “We went to lunch with that Dusty girl and she was okay but kinda snootie-patootie about Canterlot High, but don’t worry, Dashie, you’re gonna show her and I’ll be there cheering for you and we’re gonna win GO WONDERCOLTS!” she ended with a shriek, producing pompoms from somewhere and waving them. The other occupants of the cafeteria didn’t even turn their heads. Outbreaks of school pep from Pinkie weren’t unusual enough for them to notice anymore.

The girls had already been seated around their lunch table for some time before Cheese arrived holding his tray, which was, as always, heaped with food. He didn’t sit down, but said to Pinkie, “I’m sorry about leaving your party like that. It was really rude.”

Rainbow Dash waved at Cheese to sit. “Aw, for crying out loud, Cheese,” she snapped. “We already told Pinkie what happened, and we all know it wasn’t your fault, so quit apologizing and just siddown.” Cheese slid his tray onto the table and sat down at his usual place between Rainbow Dash and Pinkie.

“Dashie and Fluttershy explained you had to go home,” said Pinkie. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just sorry you couldn’t stay. We had a nice time. We even saved you some cake. Look!” She dove down for her backpack and brought out a slice of birthday cake, neatly wrapped in a Sugarcube’s plastic box.

Cheese shook his head. “I don’t think I can eat that.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, you can, Cheese. You eat everything that isn’t nailed down, and that cake’s so good it’d be criminal not to eat it.” Cheese conceded the point by flipping open the lid and picking up a fork. “Surprised that happened, though,” she added. “I thought your Aunt Mela was softening up.”

“That wasn’t Aunt Mela.” Cheese said bitterly. “That was my mother.” He jabbed the cake viciously, then dropped the fork. “Two thirty in the morning!” he burst out. “She stayed up till two thirty in the morning, or got up, I’m not sure which, just so she could call over to Aunt Mela’s and see if I was there, half an hour before my curfew. That’s why she called on my cell. And she was really mad about my playing the accordion at a party.”

“Two thirty in the morning?” said Rarity, who had been studying the pages of a Prench fashion magazine. “Goodness, that’s a large time difference. She must be quite far away. Where was she calling from?”

Cheese shrugged. “Saddle Arabia, somewhere like that. I don’t bother to keep track of where they are anymore.” They all waited for him to continue, and finally he sighed and said, “Oh, all right. My parents are in the Foreign Service, and they’re almost always on field assignments. Sometimes they’re both stationed in the same country, and sometimes they’re not, and I don’t know if that makes any difference to them. Anyway, it’s a nuisance to have a kid around, so they’ve been placing me in boarding schools for years, only I don’t do too well, and they have to keep moving me around, too.”

“What about the summers?” asked Fluttershy. “Do they send you to camp?”

Cheese hesitated, avoiding their eyes and rubbing one hand through his hair until it bristled. “Well,” he said, “once or twice I stayed out in the country, but I wouldn’t call it a camp, exactly. No, I wouldn’t call it a camp at all. You guys, this is super depressing, and I really don’t want to talk about it, ok?”

“I know what you mean!” exclaimed Pinkie, who already had a dribble glass, a red nose, and Groucho glasses lined up in front of her. “It’s driving me coco-loco just hearing about it!”

Fluttershy shook her head. “Pinkie Pie, that’s not very nice: making jokes instead of listening to poor Cheese. I’m sorry,” she added. “I didn’t mean to criticize.”

“No, I knew you’d understand, Pinks!” exclaimed Cheese. He grinned an overly-bright grin. “So this pony walks into a bar, and says . . .”

“There’s more, isn’t there?” said Applejack, knitting her brows.

Cheese sighed again. “She read Aunt Mela the riot act for not enforcing the rules hard enough. People tend to do what she wants. My mother’s good at that. So Aunt Mela’s cracking down on me. She called Vice Principal Luna to verify that the tutoring sessions were real, and Vice Principal Luna checked with Sunset Shimmer, and she was able to show that they were. My curfew’s cut back to five pm, weeknights and weekends. Oh, yes, and I’m not allowed to play the accordion in public anymore. Ever.” He waved his arms, switching into an entirely different voice in a desperate rapid patter. “So this mule says to a hippogriff, ‘I hear you got stuck in the subway doors last week.’ ‘Yeah,’ says the hippogriff, ‘I got out on a wing and a hair.’ Then the mule says, ‘Are you ok?’ And the hippogriff says ‘not really, there’s still a lot of me lion around.’ Get it?” he said, leaning forward again with an even bigger grin, his elbows on the table. “Because a hippogriff’s part lion, and—ok, I’m a little off-form today.” He dropped his head down onto his crossed arms.

“Whoa, there,” said Applejack, who evidently did not want to let this go. “Did you say you can’t play the accordion?”

Cheese lifted his head. “No playing the accordion in public. That’s right.” He dropped his head back onto his arms again.

“Pfft,” said Rainbow Dash. “How’s she gonna stop you from doing that?”

There was a long pause. Finally, Cheese said, “She made me promise I wouldn’t. She knows I don’t break promises. She knows me.”

“Whew,” said Applejack, and whistled. “No wonder you lie all the time. We were wondering.”

“What?” snapped Cheese, jerking upright. “Did you call me a liar, Applejack?”

Pinkie shook her head. “No, no, Applejack didn’t mean it that way, Cheesie! Did you, Applejack? Not exactly.” Cheese relaxed visibly, and Pinkie added, “But you don’t exactly tell all the way the truth, either. I don’t blame you. If I were you, I’d lie, too.”

“I’d just bite my tongue a whole, whole lot,” said Applejack, “but you know I can bend the truth, too. I’ve bent it for you, Cheese. So I ain’t judging you. I don’t even think a person should ask a person to promise something like that.”

“Listen, Cheesie,” said Pinkie. “If you play the accordion by yourself in the band room during lunch, that’s not public, is it?”

“No, of course not.”

“And if we just happened to be there sometimes, that’s still not public, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good,” said Pinkie, “ ‘cause that’s what I’m gonna do and I know we all will. And you’re still sad and that’s making me super-sad, too, so here’s a cupcake.” She opened her hand and revealed a perfect miniature cupcake resting in her palm.

“Wow, thanks,” said Cheese, placing it on the table. “I really—”

“And a hug.” She hugged Cheese tightly, and he smiled his first real smile that day.

“That really did help,” he said. “Thanks, Boss.”

“I have to keep my assistant happy, right?” Pinkie replied, giving him a last squeeze before letting go. “And we’ll fix it so you can still work on the festival, ‘cause I’m not firing you and I’m not doing this all by myself. We’ll get around your mom’s rules somehow.”

“And if the rules aren’t right and it’s not a game, break ‘em,” said Rainbow Dash. “That’s what I always say. Now, let’s talk about me for a while.”

“OK, so maybe I am just a teeny weeny little bit nervous. Heh-heh,” said Rainbow Dash.

Everyone had had a very stressful week. Dash had been calling extra practices, but now, on the afternoon of the Canterlot-Cloudsdale game, there was little she could do but send her team home with orders to get plenty of rest, and wait. Cheese had no choice but to obey his new curfew, and despite their best attempts to work via texts and email, Pinkie was forced to take up more of the burden of planning. Spring was a busy time at the Apple farm and Fluttershy’s animal rescue. The boutique was swamped with bridal orders, and Rarity was putting in extra hours, soothing the nerves of frazzled brides and reassuring them that their dresses would arrive and be perfectly fitted in time for their weddings. And all of them were uneasily aware that the school year would be coming to an end in a few weeks and that finals were nearly upon them.

No one was using the gym today. This was rare, so Pinkie and Cheese had seized the opportunity to rig the ceiling grid with wires for lights, decorations, and a number of other surprises they had planned. It was a massive project, and it had to be done as quickly as possible, before the gym started to be used every day for commencement practice and similar activities in addition to the usual full schedule.

Rainbow Dash agreed to open up the gym for them. She’d been entrusted with a set of keys, because in addition to being the captain of the soccer team, she was a sort of unofficial student assistant athletic coordinator. “Eh, I practically live there anyway,” she explained, as she unlocked the padlock and chain that fastened the inside doors. “You guys have gotta get this done, and I have gotta blow off a little steam.” She waved Pinkie and Cheese inside, and then darted in herself, bouncing from foot to foot like a boxer.

“Aw, thanks, Dashie,” said Pinkie, clutching a large basket of wires and hooks, as Cheese followed, carrying a large tool chest. “We’ll get this done super-fast, and don’t you worry. I’ll be there tomorrow screaming at you and you know you’ll be ok.”

Dash stopped bouncing and rolled her eyes. “Yeah—most people call that cheering, Pinkie.”

“Not when I do it!” said Pinkie. She turned to Cheese. “Dashie’s awesome, but she always does better if I scream at her.”

“Emphasis on the awesome,” Dash agreed, as she unzipped her jacket and began stretching her muscles, “but Pinkie’s my good luck charm. The whole team feels better when we can hear her, and you can’t help hearing her. Probably for miles.”

“Too bad you can’t be there, Cheesie,” said Pinkie, putting down the basket. “Have you ever led cheers before?”

“All-boys’ schools, remember? Sure I have,” he said, as he flipped open the tool chest and began selecting what they’d need: wire cutters, pliers, and Allen wrenches. “But it sounds as though I’ve been missing out on something special.”

“Aw, yeah,” Dash agreed, flexing her arm muscles.

“Oh, yes, and I’m sure you’re probably pretty good too, Dash,” Cheese finished, and pretended to be examining a set of pliers while Dash snorted in annoyance. “So how do you want to tackle this, Boss?”

“Let’s grab the ladders and set them up over there and over there,” Pinkie said, zipping around the gym floor, “and I’ll get up in the grid first and you can hand me stuff and we’ll go from there, ok?”

“Ok,” he agreed, “although I should probably get up there myself, too, because we’re really short on time and we’ll never get it all done if you do all the wiring.”

“Lemme know when you’re ready to go, so I can lock up,” called Dash, as Pinkie and Cheese grabbed the ladders. She picked up a basketball and began dribbling it from hand to hand.

Pinkie and Cheese placed the ladders and got to work. They were a blur of movement as they began weaving in and out of the ceiling grid, occasionally leaping and twisting with tools in their hands in a way that more closely resembled a circus act than a technical set up. It was impossible to hear anything else from their vantage point, unless someone stood on the ground directly underneath and called up. Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash played one on one against herself. Several times, it looked as though she might beat herself, but it finally ended in a tie. She disappeared into the weight room for some time, while Pinkie and Cheese continued to work at top speed. They didn’t even notice the slamming of doors and the fall of weights as Rainbow Dash worked out. Finally, she contented herself by running laps until she was pouring with sweat.

Cheese’s phone went off.

“Aw, Cheddar,” he said, hanging off the ladder. “I have to go home. And we’re nowhere close to being done.”

“I could keep going,” offered Pinkie. “I’m not even tired!”

“No, that’s a bad idea,” Cheese replied, as he began stowing tools. “You shouldn’t work at heights like that without someone else here. It’s just not safe.”

“Gotta agree there, Pinkie,” Dash said loudly, panting as she did so. “Giving 100% is one thing, but you don’t want to be reckless. And I have to hit the showers and go home. I need to rest up before tomorrow, too.”

“Aw, phooey,” said Pinkie, coming down the ladder as Cheese held it for her. “There goes our last chance to get done. And I just know we could finish it tonight!”

“Well . . .” said Cheese, “maybe I could sneak out. It would have to be 8:30 or 9 at the earliest: sometime after dinner when Aunt Mela would expect me to be in my room and wouldn’t be paying attention. But that’s not fair to Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow Dash hesitated, and fished for the keys she’d left in her track jacket. “I’ve got these,” she said, looking at them. “They unlock the front and back doors, the locker room, the janitor’s closet—pretty much everything.”

She curled her hand around the keys. “Coach and Vice Principal Luna let me have them because they think I’m responsible, and that means a lot to me. You have to promise me you’ll let me have them back as soon as you’re done with them. Right away.”

“Of course, Dashie,” chirped Pinkie, and held her hand out for the keys.

“Are you going to be at Cloudsdale for the game?”

“Yes indeedily!”

“Are you sure?” insisted Dash. “Because if you’re not sure, I could get in a lot of trouble.”

“That’s a Pinkie Pie promise!” Pinkie assured her.

Rainbow Dash sighed. “Well, I guess a promise doesn’t get stronger than that, so here,” she said, handing them over, “take them. Be super-careful, ok? Leave everything exactly where you found it, and for gosh sakes, try not to make too much noise. Vice Principal Luna works late. Some people swear they’ve seen the light in her office burn all night. She’s all the way on the opposite side of the building, near the annex, but don’t take any chances.”

Pinkie attached the keys to a lanyard around her neck. “Okey-dokey-lokey!” she said.

Moving ladders around makes a lot of noise. Enough to cover, say, the slam of a door.

“I want you to know,” muttered Applejack, as she steered her old pickup truck towards the East Side of town, “that I want nothing to do with this foolishness. The only reason I am driving you is because I don’t want you and Cheese wandering across town on foot in the middle of the night when y’all don’t have the sense God gave geese.”

“Uh-huh,” said Pinkie, looking out the window. “I think it’s on the next block.”

Neither Pinkie nor Applejack were familiar with this section of Canterlot. The Apple farm was located on the far Western edge of town, which was slowly being gobbled up by the suburbs, and Sugarcube’s and the Cake’s upstairs apartment was in the historic downtown district. This neighborhood ran to large older houses and streets so lined with trees that the sidewalks must have been heavily shadowed, even in mid-afternoon.

“Here!” cried Pinkie, and suddenly jabbed at the window past Applejack. Applejack was so startled that she slammed on the brakes, and they both shot forward slightly before she brought the truck up to an idle, right in front of the house.

“You sure this is it, Pinkie?” said Applejack, eyebrows furrowed. “Because this looks like one of those comedy haunted houses with the creepy butler.”

“Ooo, wouldn’t that be cool?” Pinkie enthused. “Although—nah, I guess if there was a cool creepy butler, Cheesie would already have been doing imitations of him or something, so it’s probably just him and his aunt.” She sighed. “Too bad.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not one for the ‘goot evenink’ and a bunch of bats, so you double-check and make sure this is the right address before we go looking,” said Applejack, rolling her eyes as they both got out of the truck.

The house didn’t really look haunted at all, merely old, surrounded by a lot of tall trees. Nothing was broken or neglected, and the front yard was perfectly tidy. Nevertheless, it did not look like a particularly fun place to live.

“What do we do?” whispered Applejack. “We can’t just waltz up to the front door and ask for Cheese. Wish he’d told us how he was supposed to get to us.”

“Oh, he texted me earlier,” said Pinkie. “He said to go around the right side of the house and throw a rock or something up towards the window. He said we couldn’t miss it.”

They slipped inside the tall hedge and followed it around towards the back of the house near a tall mimosa tree, where a light was shining from a third-floor window.

“Look! I bet that’s it!” Pinkie exclaimed. They carefully crept closer to the window. Pinkie reached down and picked up a rock the size of a fist, but Applejack stopped her just in time.

“Hold on there, sugarcube. I got this.” Applejack lifted a handful of gravel from the path, and threw a few upwards. There was a light pattering sound as the small rocks landed against the house.

It was, in fact, the correct window, because Cheese opened it, waved, and swung his leg over the window ledge. He launched himself out towards the mimosa, grabbed a bough, and spun himself completely around it, landing on a bough several feet below it. He steadied himself against the trunk, and then climbed down several more feet before pausing again.

“Psst! Cheesie!” hissed Pinkie. “We’re down here!”

Cheese, who had just begun to climb down further, missed his footing and slid ungracefully the rest of the way down, bringing two or three boughs along with him. He landed on a heap of feathery boughs and pink fronds, As he picked himself up, a shrill voice rang out—

“You’re in a lot of trouble, young man!”

He winced. “Oh, Stilton.”

“You’re in a lot of trouble, young man! Whee-oot. Prrrrpt. You’re in a lot of trouble, young man!”

“Psst, c’mon! Let’s move!” hissed Cheese, sprinting away.

“What in the . . . ?” murmured Applejack, but she ran the rest of the way towards the truck with Pinkie and Cheese.

“Aunt Mela’s macaw, Filbert,” explained Cheese, as he clicked his seatbelt. “She made the mistake of saying that a bunch of times the first day I got here. I don’t know what he used to do—sea chanteys, psalms, nautical slang, sailor’s language—but he seems to like this better. Luckily, she tunes him out by now, so hopefully she won’t have noticed anything.”

“Y’know, everything’s a lot more interesting with you around, Cheese,” remarked Applejack, as she put the truck in gear. She hit the gas and the old engine snarled in protest.

“Thanks!”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I really don’t want to be a part of this,” explained Applejack, as they pulled into the parking lot adjoining the gym. “I feel bad enough being your getaway driver, but it seemed like the safest thing to do. I’m gonna stay out here near the truck and maybe listen to the radio for a while. If you need anything or when you’re ready to go home, you know right where I’ll be.”

She parked the truck. It really wasn’t very far from the outside door—just far enough away to soothe Applejack’s guilty conscience. Pinkie wasn’t at all fooled, and gave Applejack a big hug.

Pinkie unlocked the padlock, took off the chain, unlocked the outer doors, and then slipped inside and quickly disarmed the security system as Rainbow Dash had shown her earlier. Then she waved Cheese inside.

They turned on the lights. Pinkie unpacked the tools and immediately made for one of the ladders, but Cheese stopped her. “Pinkie? Does anything seem off to you?”

“Off? What kind of off?”

“I don’t know,” he said, glancing around. “Rainbow Dash said to leave everything exactly where we found it, so I took a look around right before we left. I could swear that something isn’t the same as it was before, but I couldn’t tell you what it was.”

Pinkie turned around, scanning the gym. “Huh. I know what you mean. Something feels kind of funny to me, too. Still,” she said, “we’ve gotta get this done anyhoo, so we might as well get started now. Could you hold the ladder and bring up the tools? I’m going back to where I left off.”

They climbed up into the grid and continued the wiring, moving faster than before, slipping in and out of the pipes high above the floor. They had made substantial progress, but weren’t really finished, when Cheese put down his wrench, yawned, and rubbed his eyes.

“Wow, I am bushed. What time is it?” He answered his own question by looking at his watch. “It’s 11:30. Are you tired?”

“Nope-nope-nope!” said Pinkie, spinning around a pipe. “Not tired at all! I’m, like, never tired anymore. Isn’t that cool?”

Cheese furrowed his brows. Evidently, he didn’t think that was cool at all. “You aren’t?” he said, suspicion tingeing his voice.

“Nope!”

“You ate hardly anything at lunch,” said Cheese. “I saw you. What did you have for dinner?”

“Oh, just a candy bar,” Pinkie said quickly, “but that’s ok, I really like candy bars ‘cause they’re sweet and they’re fast to eat and I’ve got a lot to do and maybe they’re not the best thing for you to eat and kinda really bad for your teeth, but you can’t have everything.”

Cheese hesitated, and then seemed to make a decision. He began to pack up his tools and started moving towards one of the ladders. “I don’t care if this is none of my business. I’m making this my business. How much sleep have you been getting?”

“Sleep? What’s sleep?” fluted Pinkie. “Sleep’s silly. It’s a huge waste of time when I’ve got this and the cake festival and the cupcakes and all that other stuff to do.”

“Uh, Pinkie? I think maybe we should quit now,” Cheese said slowly, backing down the ladder. “We can get the rest of this done later. Just come on down, very carefully, and then you really need to get some food into you and get some sleep, ok?”

“Oh, no, silly,” Pinkie replied, giggling. “I’m fine. I could do this all night. See?” She jumped from one of the metal girders towards the next, wire in one hand.

Applejack had grown tired of listening to the radio. The wait had begun to seem very long to her, and when she saw on the dashboard clock that it was a half-hour to midnight, she made up her mind to go into the gym and ask Pinkie and Cheese if they meant to do this all night. Just as she slammed the car door, she heard an ominous creak, a brief high-pitched cry, cut short, and a tremendous metallic crash. She flew towards the gym, flung open the doors, and froze.

Part of a steel girder lay on the floor, scarring the wood, while a number of smaller steel connectors, wires, tools, and other objects were scattered nearby. Pinkie sagged like a rag doll, eyes glazed, a cut on her forehead bleeding profusely. She was leaning on Cheese, who sat propping her up and holding one of his arms, which was bent in a bizarre, unnatural angle.

“AJ?” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Could you please call 911? I can’t reach my phone.”

Author's Note

I’m sure every author and every reader has a model in his or her head of what Ponyville or Canterlot should look like. Mine is a sort of composite of Madison, Wisconsin, and especially Ann Arbor, Michigan. That’s where you’ll find Italian revival villas like the one belonging to Cheese’s aunt, small historic downtown districts, and apple farms a short drive away.

I think you’ll be relieved to know that the wait for the next chapter will be relatively short.

Down The Rabbit Hole

Applejack did not waste a moment. Yanking the neckerchief from around her neck, she rushed forward and pressed it to Pinkie’s bleeding forehead, putting Pinkie’s hand over it to hold it in place.

“Where’s your phone?” said Applejack.

“Backpack. Over there,” said Cheese, indicating the direction with his head.

Applejack grabbed Cheese’s backpack, quickly found the phone, and dialed the emergency number.

“Hello? We’re here at Canterlot High. A friend of mine fell in the gym. Looks like she’s hurt real bad. Her head’s bleeding. -- Yeah, she’s breathing.”

Cheese held his good hand in front of Pinkie’s face. “Pinkie, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Pinkie shook her head slightly. “How many fingers have you got?”

“And she’s conscious,” Applejack assured the dispatcher, pacing back and forth.

Cheese steadied Pinkie’s head so she couldn’t shake it again and held the neckerchief down with the hand he could use. “That’s irrelevant, Pinkie.”

Pinkie giggled a shadow of her usual giggle. “No, silly, it’s a hippopotamus!”

Cheese sighed with relief. “I think you’re going to be fine.”

Pinkie hiccupped, and a little of the focus came back into her eyes. “My head hurts.”

“I know,” said Cheese.

“It really, really hurts a whole lot,” Pinkie insisted, her voice quavering.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“We’re at the school gym, back entrance. The door’s unlocked.” Applejack hung up and immediately started towards her cousin.

“Wait, Applejack,” said Cheese. “Take some pictures.”

“Are you nuts, Cheese? I don’t know about you, but I sure as hay don’t want this on Twitter.”

“Just, you know—where everything is, and what it looks like. Especially the end of that girder.”

Applejack began to take some quick shots of the accident. “Where’d she fall from, anyhow? Off that ladder?” she said, taking a picture of it. It had fallen to one side, and was still braced open.

“No,” Cheese replied, trying to keep Pinkie from pushing the neckerchief away. “I fell off the ladder. She fell out of the grid.”

Applejack stopped taking pictures for a moment. “You were up in the grid? I didn’t know you were going to be up in the grid. You are both insane!”

“Well, yes, but that’s normal for –what’s that?”

Sharp, ringing footsteps could be heard coming quickly down the corridor, followed by the rattling of the hall doors.

“Vice Principal Luna! Quick, toss me my phone. No, put it on my right, where I can pick it up. Then get yourself back and hide somewhere!”

Applejack walked over and started to hand Cheese his phone, before she realized that he couldn’t take it from her. “I am not gonna leave you two. Not like this.”

“There’s no sense in both of us getting in trouble! Now go!” Applejack hesitated for a moment before sprinting back to a dark spot near the parking lot doors.

The hallway doors were flung open with a bang. Vice Principal Luna paused for a moment in the doorway. She took in the scene—two of her students, one seriously injured, trespassing on her school grounds, after hours, without her permission—and fury almost visibly boiled off of her. A draft blew down the corridor and whipped her long blue-black hair into a cloud swirling around her, and she might easily have been mistaken for a wrathful goddess in the eye of a storm of outrage, instead of an angry vice-principal who had been interrupted while catching up on writing disciplinary reports. She briskly made her way to a locked brown box on the wall, drawing out her cell phone.

“I already called 911 . . . ma’am,” called Cheese, shrinking back as she turned her full gaze on him. She turned back and removed a packet of sterile gauze, a thin foil blanket, and some other supplies before making her way to Cheese and Pinkie.

“When was this?” she snapped. “Hold still. Keep her head steady.” She removed the blood-soaked cloth and replaced it with gauze.

“A few minutes ago. They said the paramedics were on their way.”

She obviously was not finished with her interrogation, but turned her full attention to Pinkie, checking for herself to see that she was in fact breathing and conscious, and being careful not to move her any more than was necessary. Meanwhile, Cheese began to drag his left arm—the injured one—back where it was less visible, curled against his long-sleeved shirt and half-hidden by his jacket.

The Vice Principal sniffed. “At least you had the sense to call 911. Head injuries should always be taken seriously. Keep her steady, please, and let me see—”

“I’m fine!” Cheese said with a nervous grin. “I know, amazing, right? I mean, what are the odds that there would be all this metal scrap and collapsed ladders and busted steel and Pinkie here knocked out and me without a scratch on me, right? Must run in the family because my Great-Uncle Buster got carried down the street by a tornado and got put down on the ground not a bit worse for the wear and—”

“That’s enough. You and Miss Pie had no business being here at this hour. You in particular are not permitted to engage in any non-academic activities whatsoever. There is no possible excuse for this. What I want to know is—”

“Why?”

“No. You will have ample time to explain yourself in my office on Monday morning. I want to know how. How were you able to get into the gym at all?” Cheese said nothing, as though he hadn’t heard. “Well?”

Cheese’s eyes widened and then shifted rapidly from side to side. He took a deep breath and had just opened his mouth when the vice principal’s eye fell on the lanyard around Pinkie Pie’s neck. On it hung a keychain and a small fob: a rainbow-colored lightning bolt. As she reached for it, Pinkie suddenly seemed to be aware that a conversation had been going on.

“Oh, no, you can’t take those!” she protested. “Those are Dashie’s! And I promised to give them back to her tomorrow!”

“The keys are not ‘Dashie’s.’ They belong to the school,” Vice Principal Luna said with a frown. “Besides,” she added more gently, as Pinkie showed signs of agitation, “you probably won’t be able to give the keys back tomorrow. They are perfectly safe with me.”

The loud wail of a siren and flashing lights outside announced the arrival of the paramedics, who quickly took over. They carefully removed Pinkie Pie from her position propped up on Cheese, shone a light in her eyes, and placed her on a backboard. “She’s definitely concussed,” the chief paramedic said to the vice principal, “but we won’t know how badly until she’s been fully examined. And we’ll have to keep her immobile, in case there’s a fracture. Does she have any relatives who could—”

“Applejack!” Cheese exclaimed, a little too loudly. “She’s our ride. I called her right after I called 911. She should be here any minute now.”

Applejack came in from her position near the back door. “Well, gosh, Cheese, I just got here, sakes alive, Pinkie’s been hurt, what has been happening here,” she said in an unconvincing monotone. Cheese rolled his eyes.

The vice principal’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she merely said, “Good. Your cousin is being taken to the ER, and you should join her there as soon as possible. If there is room in the ambulance, Mr. Sandwich should go as well.”

“No, no!” Cheese insisted. “I’m fine. See?” He rolled over on his right side and sprang to his feet in one movement.

“Nevertheless, I feel you probably need a full medical examination. A comprehensive one.” Cheese gulped, but said nothing.

“I’m headed off to the ER right now,” Applejack said. “I’ll take Cheese with me. It’s no extra bother.”

As they slid her into the back of the ambulance, Pinkie had clearly begun to panic. Her arms were strapped down, but she was clenching and unclenching her fists and kept trying to say something. Applejack followed the stretcher outside and leaned over her.

“Now you hang tight, sugarcube. I’m gonna be right there.” Pinkie continued to panic until she saw Cheese’s head pop around Applejack’s.

“Make that a double,” he said. Pinkie smiled and closed her eyes as the stretcher was slid in and the ambulance’s doors shut.

When the noise had died down, Vice Principal Luna said, “I will lock and secure everything. I suggest you go to the hospital immediately. And Mr. Sandwich—my office. Monday. You’ll have plenty of time to explain yourself then. In the meantime, I will be contacting your aunt.” Cheese nodded, his gaze fixed on the ground. “And your parents,” she added. Cheese quickly looked up again, eyes widened. His face went white, and his lips formed the word no. He looked as though he wanted to protest, but couldn’t, and as he stood there, frozen to the spot, the vice principal walked back into the gym and closed the doors.

“Well, that doesn’t sound good,” said Applejack. “C’mon, Pinkie’ll be worrying and what the hay is that?”

“That” was an ugly compound fracture, which had begun to bleed through Cheese’s jacket. Applejack could see odd bumps under the sleeve, which she guessed were projecting fragments of bone. Glancing at his whitened face, she assumed he might have been losing blood, too.

“Holy moly, Cheese,” she said, “we best rush you in. Why’d you hide that?”

Cheese rapidly shook his head, as though he were suddenly brought back to reality. “Ignore it,” he snapped. “Forget about it. There’s nothing wrong with me. Let’s get out of here.” They walked quickly over to Applejack’s truck, and he said, “Oh, um—and do you mind opening the door for me?”

“I could kick myself,” Cheese muttered, as Applejack’s truck bounced along. “I should have known. I think I did know, but I just didn’t want to say anything. Can we go any faster?”

Applejack was making her way to the hospital as quickly as possible, but the shocks on the old truck were bad, forcing her to drive slowly. “If we go any quicker’n this, it’ll bounce something awful, and that’s not what you need right now. How’s the arm?”

“Ignore it!” he snapped. “Just forget it. I should have known something was bound to happen. Pinkie’s been on a massive high for weeks.”

“What?” retorted Applejack, slowing down a bit more and swerving to avoid a possum. “My cousin’s never touched drugs in her life.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied, shaking his head. “Pinkie has bipolar disorder.”

It wasn’t a question, but Applejack was still stunned. “How’d you know that?”

Even in the darkened cab, Applejack could feel the withering glance Cheese shot her. “How do you think I know that?”

There was silence, except for the bouncing and shuddering of the truck hitting some potholes.

“I noticed she was getting more wound up in those lessons we’ve got with Sunset Shimmer,” Cheese continued, “but maybe I blew it off because Sunset Shimmer always creeps me out and makes me feel antsy, too, and when she suggested dancing instead, of course I wanted to . . . but I still should have said something. And then I was spending all that time working on the party cannon, but that’s no excuse. I know exactly what it feels like. How could I have been so dumb?”

“Don’t you go hogging all the blame for yourself, Cheese,” Applejack said, shaking her head. “She was talking herself in circles in math class—that’s why I had to take her and show her what you were building in the barn. Then, at her birthday party, she told me she’d slept only three hours and spent most of the night re-organizing her room. I know better n’ that. I let her down, too. It’s just that—”

“—you hoped if you didn’t say anything,” Cheese said, finishing her thought, “somehow it wouldn’t be true and it would magically go away. I know. It’s just that I only know it from the inside. I’ve never seen it from the outside—when it’s a friend or someone you . . . someone you know who has it. I didn’t know how much I’d want it not to be happening to her.”

“Well,” said Applejack, stopping at a traffic light, “maybe that’s how your mama and daddy feel, too.”

“No. No, they don’t. Anyway, we’re talking about Pinkie.”

Applejack began to be aware of a sick, slushy, rubbery sound. She hadn’t noticed it on the back road, but here, closer to the hospital, it was hard to miss. It almost sounded as though it were coming from Cheese’s arm. “What in the hay is that, Cheese?” she said, trying not to turn around and stare.

“Ignore it,” he snapped. “Just forget about it.”

Cheese had begun to get edgy. His knee was pistoning up and down. “Are you sure we can’t get there any faster?” he complained.

“You can see the signs for yourself,” Applejack pointed out, “’Hospital Zone.’ Anyway, we’re nearly there. And I know you’re worried, but this is a good hospital. They’ll take good care of Pinkie, and they’re not gonna let her go until she’s all fixed up. You’ll see.”

To Applejack’s astonishment, this had the opposite of its intended effect. Instead of calming Cheese down, this only agitated him further, and she had the impression that he was considering jumping out of the truck if they hadn’t pulled into the hospital parking lot just then. As they pulled in, he was already unbuckling his seatbelt with his left hand.

The hand on his broken arm.

Or his formerly broken arm, because as he banged the door shut, Applejack could see that there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it. Even the bloodstains on his jacket were fading. Her jaw dropped.

“What?” said Cheese. “Oh, this?” he added, following her gaze and holding up his perfectly healthy-looking left arm. “Yeah, it mostly sorts itself out if you don’t call attention to it. I wouldn’t mention it to anyone else if I were you, though. You wouldn’t want anyone to think you were crazy.” He winked at her, and then raced for the emergency entrance as quickly as his long legs would carry him.

“I know you’re concerned,” said the emergency room receptionist, “but we can’t let everyone in the unit just because they’re concerned. Are you relatives of the patient?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Applejack. “I’m her cousin.”

“And I’m her brother,” snarled Cheese. “We’ve even got the same hair.” He pulled his curly brown forelock, and it snapped back with an audible spoinnnng. “Obviously.”

A physician’s assistant carrying a clipboard stopped to see what was going on, and approached the desk. “Are you here for Miss Pie? Good. We’ve been trying to determine what medications she’s on, but unfortunately she’s much too confused to remember, and we haven’t been able to contact her doctor. Come this way.”

As they were buzzed past the doors and followed the white-coated physician’s assistant past gurneys and hospital curtains, some open and some closed, Applejack muttered, “You have the same hair? Seriously?”

“It was the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment,” Cheese hissed back.

Pinkie’s face lit up as the curtain was pulled, and then she winced. Her head was bandaged and there were monitors measuring her pulse. “Hey, there, hon. You doing all right?” said Applejack, as she came and stood next to Pinkie.

A nurse in pink scrubs with cartoon animals on it approached. Pinkie smiled. “Cute,” she said.

“Hi—I’m Grace Redheart, and I’ve been looking after Pinkie. You’re Pinkie’s relatives?”

“Yes,” said Applejack and Cheese together. Applejack rolled her eyes.

“Well, I see from Pinkie’s records that she’s been taking several medications, but we weren’t sure it was accurate because it hasn’t been updated in a while. We’ve tried paging her doctor, but she hasn’t returned the call yet. Are you sure you can’t remember anything, dear?”

Pinkie started to shake her head again, then said “ow. Noperooni. All I know is there were a whole lot of them and most of them began with ‘B.’ Or was it ‘L?’ Anyhoo, they’ve changed a bunch of times and I don’t remember what they are, and I’m all confused and super-tired.”

“Do either of you know what they are?” the nurse asked, looking at each of them. Applejack hesitated, and then shook her head.

“Seriously?” said Cheese, looking at her. “You don’t know her cocktail?”

“No,” she replied, furrowing her brows. “Pinkie doesn’t always tell me that stuff. And what do you mean, ‘cocktail?’ Pinkie doesn’t drink.”

“The combo of meds she’s taking,” explained Cheese. “Most of us are on two or three, maybe five medications. They all work together. Well, some just offset the side effects of the others, but anyway, we call that a ‘cocktail.’ Hmm. Maybe this’ll help.” He moved closer to Pinkie. “Hiya, Pinks.”

“Hiya!” she said, smiling.

“Listen,” he said, putting his arm down on the bed next to her hand. “I’m going to say a whole lot of names. If you recognize one of them, just tap my arm like this.” He showed her. “Like that. Can you do that?” She started to nod, but he said, “don’t nod, just tap. Ok?”

He began to reel off a long list of drugs by their brand and their generic names. Applejack’s eyes widened as the list went on and on. Once or twice Pinkie tapped Cheese’s arm and he held up a finger for Nurse Redheart, who wrote it down.

Cheese mentioned a certain name, and Pinkie tapped, then paused and looked confused.

Cheese repeated it again. “Yes? No? How about this?” and he mentioned another. Pinkie tapped his arm several times. Cheese snorted.

“Great,” he said, turning to the nurse. “She’s on the generic. The generic doesn’t work. It’s like sugar pills, only worse, because you think it’s working right up until you realize it hasn’t worked in a long time and by then you’re in trouble. Her doctor should know that.” He went on listing names until Pinkie tapped again, then stopped, and tapped. Cheese furrowed his brows. “Yes? No? You were taking it, but now you’re not? Wait—you were taking it and you just stopped? Like, without telling anyone? Why?”

“Cupcakes,” said Pinkie.

“Cupcakes? What do you mean, ‘cupcakes?’ I mean, I like them, too, especially those new ones you—ohhhh. Cupcakes. I get it. Metalmouth?”

“Yepsidoodle!—ouch.”

He turned to Applejack. “Metalmouth. One of those meds makes everything you eat taste as though you’ve been licking an iron fence. And Pinkie’s been developing all those new cupcake flavors, so she stopped taking it. That was kind of dumb, Pinkie,” he added, turning back to her. “You can tell your doctor you can’t stand the side effects. Sometimes there’s something else you can take instead. Oh, wait. I forgot your doctor’s a moron. Well, fire her and get someone else. Anyway,” he said, smiling at her, “thanks.”

“That’s helpful,” remarked the nurse. “We still don’t know the dosage or the form or how many times a day she was taking them, but at least it’s a start. It looks as though they’re ready for you now, Pinkie. We’re just going to wheel you down the hall for a CT scan. It’ll take hardly any time at all. You two can stay here,” she added. Two orderlies pulled up the sides, unlatched the wheels, and took Pinkie away.

Applejack and Cheese sat there for a minute or two—not in silence, because the beeping and pumping noises, the paging over the announcement system, and the worried conversations of different patients on the other side of curtains make silence in an emergency ward impossible—but without talking. Finally Applejack said, “Have you really been on all of those?”

Cheese shook his head. “No. Some of them. Some of them I tried, but the side effects were too bad or they just didn’t work. Some of them I just know about from other people. Hey,” he added brightly, “do you think there are emergency rooms for cows? I wonder what those are like. I bet it’s really tough asking a cow what medications she’s on.”

Applejack frowned. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

“Nope,” said Cheese, “I’m succeeding. Pick a number from one to ten.” He held up a piece of paper that had been folded into a set of triangular shapes, divided in four and big enough for two fingers and two thumbs.

“Uh . . . four, I guess.”

Cheese moved the paper shape back and forth four times. “Now give me a letter of the alphabet.”

“R?”

Cheese repeated the motion eighteen times. “Ok—now give me a color.”

“Green?”

Cheese moved the paper back and forth, flipped up a corner, and read, “Fruit will be very important to you today.”

“Hang on a second—does it really say that?” Applejack grabbed the piece of paper out of Cheese’s hand, unfolded it, and looked at each side. They were both blank. Cheese grinned, and Applejack smiled, too. “Ok—you got me.” She yawned. “Boy, it sure is late. I’d call and let Granny know where I am, but I’d probably wake her up. I’ll just text Big Mac and let him know. Maybe you oughta . . .” Cheese grimaced, and she bit her lip. “Oh, right.”

Cheese took a deep breath. “So,” he said, “this pony walks into a bar . . .” Pinkie and the orderlies pushing her bed arrived, followed closely by a doctor. “I wonder if I’m ever going to get to finish that joke.”

“Well,” said the doctor, “the good news is that there’s no fractures and no signs of hemorrhage. It looks as though something hit her on the head, but I don’t think she hit her head on the floor, and if anything, it looks like something broke her fall. You’re very lucky,” she said, addressing Pinkie. “However, she’s still very woozy and confused, and there’s the issue of her medications as well, so we’re going to keep her in for observation.”

“Observation?” stammered Cheese, his eyes wide with shock. He held his fists to his eyes and muttered to himself, “72 hours. 72 hours of living hell.” He looked up at the doctor again. “It was an accident!” He leaned over Pinkie’s bed. “Pinkie, listen. You’ve got to tell them you know what was going on. Tell them you’re happy to stay to look after your physical injuries. Tell them that!”

“Um, ok,” said Pinkie, looking bewildered. “What was going on again?”

“What’s your name?” insisted Cheese, an edge of panic in his voice.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie,” Pinkie stated.

“And mine?”

“Cheese Sandwich.”

“What’s today?”

“Friday?”

Cheese whirled around to the doctor. “She was injured before midnight. It was Friday. She couldn’t know that. She knows her name. She knows my name. She’s staying voluntarily. You can’t hold her.”

The doctor backed away. “We weren’t planning to,” she said slowly. “We’re keeping her overnight to monitor her. With any luck, she’ll go home tomorrow with her parents or an approved adult.”

“That would be the Cakes,” said Applejack. “I called them earlier, so they already know.”

“It takes a while to recover from a concussion,” continued the doctor, “and it’s best to take it slowly. She’ll probably be fine. You, on the other hand, might want to see your doctor for some sort of anti-anxiety medication.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” muttered Cheese. “I’m all fixed for that.”

“’Night, sugarcube,” said Applejack, and kissed Pinkie’s cheek.

Cheese stood at the side of the bed, looking extremely awkward. “Um. Well, goodnight, Pinkie, I’ll . . .uh . . . see you later then.” He backed away, and then made his way towards the exit, walking very fast.

“Goodnight, Miss Apple,” said the doctor, as Applejack left, and then muttered, “Goodnight, Mr. Pie,” and snorted with amusement.

Applejack drove without talking for several minutes, and then Cheese broke the silence by asking, “Was Pinkie ever hospitalized before?”

Applejack thought for a moment. “Well, we did think she might need her appendix out once,” she said, “but that turned out to be a false alarm. Oh. You mean . . . for that.”

“Bipolar disorder,” Cheese said. “Yes, that.”

“Just once,” she replied, as she shifted gears. “No, I guess it was twice.”

“I see,” said Cheese, looking out the window at nothing. Applejack did a U-turn and headed in the opposite direction. “What was that for?”

“Because you got questions and I want answers,” said Applejack, “and it’s gonna be way easier to talk ‘em over if I’m not in a truck trying to keep my mind on the road. We’re going out for donuts.”

Cheese shook his head. “I’m already out after hours. I have to go home.”

Applejack snorted. “Seriously, Cheese? If Vice-Principal Luna already called your aunt, you think half an hour for donuts is gonna make that much of a difference? Don’t tell me you’re not hungry, ‘cause I never knew you when you weren’t. I’m driving, and I say we’re stopping for donuts.”

Applejack pulled into an almost deserted parking lot, squinting against the harsh glare of the parking lot lights. She and Cheese nearly slipped on the asphalt, which was slick with a mixture of early morning damp and motor oil. A neon sign over a chrome diner proudly proclaimed: “Don t Joe’s--OPEN 24 r .”

“Come on, Cheese,” Applejack said, holding open the door and ushering him in. “You’re gonna like these. There’s practically nobody here at this hour but Joe himself, and he’s got years of experience in keeping his mouth shut.” She chose a booth in the corner, as far away from the door as possible, and ordered two coffees and a dozen donuts. They were simple, freshly made, sprinkled with cinnamon sugar, and still slightly warm. It was much harder to feel miserable while eating them.

“Now,” she said, after her second donut, “you asked me about Pinkie, but let’s start with what that doctor said. She says Pinkie didn’t crack her head on the floor, or her head woulda been a lot more hurt than what it was. You had a broken arm. Pinkie says you ‘don’t tell all the way the truth.’ Well, for once, I want you to tell me the honest truth. You didn’t fall off that ladder, did you?” Cheese shook his head. “Did you jump?”

Cheese looked everywhere but at Applejack, and finally stammered, “I . . . well, you would have done the same thing.”

“So, really, Pinkie landed on you, and that’s how your arm got broken.” She frowned in thought. “How’d Pinkie’s head get hurt then?”

Cheese pulled out his phone. “I don’t know, but maybe there’s some kind of answer in these pictures. The honest truth, Applejack, is that I think there’s something fishy about the whole thing.”

Applejack pushed herself back and subjected Cheese to a long, steady gaze, and finally gave a decisive nod. “I don’t know what else to make of you, Cheese, but you tried to help Pinkie, and I’m gonna trust you with why Pinkie’s here. You know a bit what she’s like by now—all bright and bubbly. Always has been, too, though you wouldn’t know that.” Cheese coughed on a chunk of donut. “Don’t choke on that,” she cautioned, “because I’ve had enough of the hospital for one day. From what I understand, she was just getting happier and happier and more and more worked up. And Pinkie’s family—well, they’re just not like that. They’re kinda quiet. Then Pinkie calmed down all of a sudden, and at first Aunt Cloudy was relieved, ‘cause she wasn’t driving ‘em all crazy. But when Pinkie got slower and slower, she knew something wasn’t right, until one day that happy little girl could barely get out of bed.”

Applejack stirred her coffee in circles as she talked. “Aunt Cloudy and Uncle Igneous aren’t much for fancy education, and they don’t have a TV and all that, but they know their daughters. So finally, Aunt Cloudy asked Pinkie if she was feeling bad and could she take her to the doctor, and Pinkie, she was so down, she just nodded. And that’s how we found out Pinkie had a problem. The hospital out there’s kinda basic, so Pinkie was transferred here, and we all agreed it was best for her to stay here where she could get good care if she ever needed it again. Over at the farm, well—we’ve got our own row to hoe, and we couldn’t see how we could make room for Pinkie, too, but my Pie cousins know the Cakes from way back. So that’s how Pinkie came to be here, but you gotta understand, Cheese—she’s got lots of people looking out for her, and she never fought it, and she’s never told me otherwise, so being in the hospital can’t have been all that bad.”

Cheese snorted into his coffee. He shook his head as he held a napkin to his nose. When he’d recovered a bit from the sting, he said, “Sorry, Applejack, but that’s funny. The best you can say about one psych ward is that it’s a lot better than some other psych wards.”

Applejack gave him that long steady gaze again. “I trusted you about Pinkie. Now you trust me about you. How’d you wind up in the hospital?”

Cheese paused, unconsciously twisting a paper napkin until it started to fall apart. “Fine,” he burst out. “You really want to know how I wound up there? My mother called the doctor and told him I was throwing knives.”

Applejack just blinked at him. Finally, she said, “Were you?”

“I don’t know,” he said, dropping the shreds of napkin. “Is juggling throwing? I was definitely practicing juggling, and I was definitely juggling knives, but I can juggle chainsaws and it doesn’t mean anything except that I’m a good juggler. No, I think what bugged my mother was that they weren’t her knives.”

“What do you mean?”

Cheese dropped his hand, and then raised it. Five spoons went flying through the air in a dizzying circle. After a minute or two, he caught them and lined them up one by one. “Notice something?”

Applejack squinted down at the spoons. Suddenly she saw it. “They’re not Joe’s spoons.”

“Exactly. And that’s not acceptable to my mother,” said Cheese, scooping up all five spoons so that they vanished up his sleeve again. “It never has been. Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was in the hospital.” He stared straight ahead, as though he were seeing something far away. “They take away your belt. They take away your shoes if they lace up—just in case. The first twenty-four hours, they’ve got you on suicide watch—just in case. And that means they open up the door every fifteen minutes while you’re trying to sleep. It took a couple of days before they brought me up in front of a panel.”

He looked Applejack in the eye again. “You’re right, AJ, I’m a liar, but I wasn’t always one. The head doctor on the panel asked me about the knives and where they came from and did I really think I could just make party hats come out of thin air, and I did something really dumb. I told them the truth. That meant I was delusional, so . . .” His voice trailed away, and he looked out the window, at the slick black parking lot. He shook his head. “Anyway, they can keep you up to 90 days after that, and I could have gone home a lot sooner, but it was my mom’s decision, and she wasn’t in a hurry to get me out.” He looked down into his coffee cup. “I was twelve.”

Applejack was staring at him in pure horror. He swallowed. “You have no idea how much I want to tell a joke right now. So, um—yeah, it’s not all that bad!” He grinned and spread his hands wide, then dropped them and the grin and said in a worried tone, “Does that count as a joke?”

Applejack frowned and looked at the ceiling, as though she were trying to work something out. “Are—are you saying you don’t really have . . . y’know . . .”

“Bipolar disorder? Oh, no.” Cheese shrugged. “No, I’ve got it, all right, and it’s no picnic. Poor Pinks. She must be feeling really awful right now. I should have said something. But I manage ok with some medication and a bit of common sense. Just because I’ve got bipolar disorder doesn’t mean that I had to get shoved through hospital after hospital as though they all had revolving doors.”

He leaned his chin against his fist. “Y’know, I take what I said before back. They weren’t all terrible. Remember when Fluttershy asked if my parents sent me to camp, and I said I’d been to the country? That place really wasn’t bad. The doctors got me stabilized, and I started feeling a lot better. There were a lot of kids who were way worse off than me, and I wanted to make them laugh, and I guess the staff just let me. They’d never let me do that anywhere else. So one morning, they had us all in a group, and we had to go around and check in. You know, ‘Hi, my name’s Mike, and I’m feeling very angry this morning.’ Anyway, they got around to me, and I just rocketed out of my chair: ‘Hi, I’m Cheese. And I feel like a PARTY.’” Cheese beamed. “And you know, they let me do it? Spontaneous joy among the lost boys on the third floor. It was amazing. And they must have done something, said something to someone, that they didn’t think I was all that sick, and that maybe I should go home.” He sighed. “I was so glad to get back to my accordion. I missed it so badly. I still don’t like letting it out of my sight.”

“So you never got sent to the hospital again?”

He blinked in confusion. “Did I say that? Oh, no. It’s always a possibility if I get too far out of line. As she always says, ‘Cheese, it’s for your own good.’ And you’d be amazed how something like that looks on your school record, especially if your mother pulls strings and lets the headmaster know about your ‘special problem.’ That’s what I meant by this being my last chance. If I flunk this time, and I don’t graduate . . . and I guess now I’ve also technically committed a crime. Sorry if I got a little upset back there. I’ve gotten used to the way this always plays out with me, and I didn’t want to see them doing something like that to Pinkie. I should go home,” he said. “I can’t put this off forever. I’ll get this.” He stood up and picked up the check.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Any of us?” Applejack protested.

“I didn’t want to be the kid with bipolar disorder,” he said simply, and walked towards the register.

They drove in silence the rest of the way to Cheese’s house. The lights were on in the first floor windows. “Thank you for the ride,” he said, looking through the window at Applejack. “Give my best to Pinkie, ok?”

“Cheese?” said Applejack. “You take care now.”

He nodded. Applejack watched as he walked up the porch stairs, unlocked the door, and slipped into the hall. The same shrill voice she’d heard before—the voice of the macaw—screeched, “You’re in a lot of trouble, young man.” And then a genteel elderly lady’s voice replied, “The bird is right for once, young man. You really are in quite a lot of trouble.”

Author's Note

This was a tough chapter to write, for a whole lot of reasons, and I’ve been planning it for months.

Bipolar disorder is a very poorly understood condition, and it doesn’t help that so many people toss around the word “bipolar” to mean “indecisive” or “randomly moody” or “badly behaved” or just plain “jerk.” I prefer this definition from the Urban Dictionary, clearly an insider view:

“One minute you're riding an emotional rainbow generated by the laughter of unicorns that fart skittles and the next minute you fall straight into the pitch-black pits of depression where dementors feast on your soul only to be rescued a half hour later by Old Saint Nicholas brandishing a chimney bazooka that shoots confetti.”

Matt Garner’s Ask Vaudeville
and Ask Ponyacci have been a big inspiration to me, even before he allowed me to use Generations of Laughter for the cover of Swear on Camembert. Matt’s pretty firm about Pinkie, Cheese, and bipolar disorder, and I have to say I totally agree, or as Vaudeville would probably say, “you ain’t just whistling Dixie.”

Source.

As for the meds Cheese reels off, you can get the insider scoop on ‘em at Crazy Meds, run for patients by patients. They don’t give medical advice, but if you just want to know things like “what do you guys take for major depression, and do any of them make you gain weight?” they’re good on that, whether you want to know for research purposes or just because of reasons.

Great-Uncle Buster would, of course, be Buster Keaton, the Great Stone Face, and my favorite silent comedian.

The next chapter is coming soon!

Stable Goat

Rarity and Fluttershy carefully made their way down the neat new bleachers at the Cloudsdale Prep stadium. Most of the crowd was jubilant, but the two friends said nothing and did not look at each other until they reached the ground level. Rarity broke the silence. “The weather was simply perfect this afternoon! I could not have asked for a better opportunity to show off my fabulous new chapeau. Did I mention that I blocked and trimmed it myself?”

Fluttershy sighed. “Rainbow is going to be very unhappy,” she lamented. “She really wanted to win this game.”

“Rainbow Dash always wants to win every game,” Rarity pointed out, adjusting her hat slightly as she caught a glimpse of herself in a chrome surface. She smiled at a boy wearing a Cloudsdale jacket, and he smiled back, turning his head so that he bumped into the friend walking just in front of him.

“Cloudsdale is different, though,” insisted Fluttershy, “and Rainbow really wanted to win against Lightning Dust.” She added something inaudible.

Rarity stopped walking, so that Fluttershy was forced to stop walking, too. “What was that, Fluttershy?”

“I really hate being back here,” Fluttershy repeated, looking down and blinking while she twisted her fingers.

“Truly?” said Rarity, putting an arm around Fluttershy and steering her off the field so that they could wait for Rainbow Dash. “I had no idea it was that bad.” They sat at the end of the bottom row of bleachers, not far from the locker rooms.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it bad, exactly. It’s just . . . Cloudsdale Prep tradition. You have to be strong, and you have to be a winner. That’s why sports are everything here. See?” Fluttershy continued, swinging her head to indicate the grand gate leading to the stadium, with “Cloudasseum” written in brilliantly colored letters. “You’re a winner, or you’re weak, and if you’re weak, it’s your own fault. You’re nobody. You shouldn’t even exist. I was nobody,” she lamented. “I’m nobody.”

Rarity gasped. “Says the honors student who volunteers at the animal shelter! Fluttershy, you are very far from being nobody.”

“Thanks,” Fluttershy said, her lips trembling. “But that’s not really true, Rarity. They think it’s an honor even being weeded out from Cloudsdale. If you have a weak spot, they’ll find it. I felt weak because of gym. Snowflake felt weak because school is hard for him. It was horrible for both of us. Rainbow’s strong, and she’s a winner, but she’s different. When she has to choose between winning and her friends, she chooses her friends. And I guess,” she said, smiling for the first time since they’d arrived at the stadium, “she decided I was her friend, and I was happy. I really wanted her to win, especially against Dusty. I don’t like Dusty,” she finished, the smile fading from her face.

“Is she really that terrible?” asked Rarity. “Worse than Sunset Shimmer?”

“In a way,” admitted Fluttershy, murmuring so low that Rarity could scarcely hear what she was saying. “Sunset was scary, and she still scares me. She was a bully, and you could tell she had something awful inside. But Dusty—she just makes you feel bad. She can find anyone’s weak spot. She can hit you deep down, where it really hurts.” Rarity’s lip curled in disgust. “Oh, Dusty’s not a bad person,” Fluttershy hastened to add. “She’s just very—Cloudsdale. Rainbow and Dusty were almost friends. They both like winning, and they liked competing because it’s more fun to beat someone good.”

“Cloudsdale Prep sounds like a dreadful place,” Rarity said, and sniffed. The boy she had smiled at earlier had been following at a discreet distance and waiting for a chance to say something, but on hearing this, he sighed, turned around, and caught up to his friends. “I want my designs to win, and I would have liked to have been Spring Princess, too, but there is such a thing as being a gracious winner.”

“And then,” Fluttershy crossed her arms, pulling them close to her chest, “I don’t know what happened. Maybe Dusty thought she wasn’t winning enough . . .”

Rarity put her arm around Fluttershy agains and hugged her. “You don’t have to talk about it, darling, whatever it was. Maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

Fluttershy pulled away. “No, no. It wasn’t exactly Dusty’s fault, but she found Rainbow’s weak spot, too. So I wanted to come, and I wanted to see Rainbow win.” She sighed and dropped her gaze to the ground. “Too bad.”

Rainbow Dash and the Wondercolts, splattered with mud, slowly made their way towards them. Everyone’s posture screamed humiliation and defeat. Dash finally came to a halt and beckoned her team closer.

“Admit it,” she begged. “I blew chunks out there.”

The members of the Wondercolts team all silently shook their heads. “C’mon!” she snapped. “I stunk on ice! I missed easy goals! I made stupid calls! I dragged our team’s name into the garbage! Soarin,” she said in a much nicer tone, smiling widely and spreading her arms, “go ahead. Admit it. That was the most pathetic thing you’ve ever seen.”

“No,” said Soarin.

“Dangit, Soarin!” she barked, frowning, dropping her arms, and stepping closer, so that they were almost toe-to-toe. “I am your team captain, and I order you to tell me I stunk on ice!”

“No!” he shot back.

Dash’s whole body sagged. “And I just failed at that, too,” she said. “Can’t get my own team to follow orders. Fine. Hit the showers, guys. Try to pretend this never happened.”

The team straggled their way towards the showers. “Nice hat, Rarity,” remarked Rainbow Dash. “Perfect for Rainbow Dash Fails All The Things Day.”

“You did your best,” murmured Fluttershy.

“No, I didn’t,” Dash snarled. “Don’t try to make me feel better. That,” she said, kicking a divot back onto the field, “was nowhere near my best, and besides, who cares? I didn’t win. We didn’t win. I hate losing.” She bent over, her palms on her knees, and then looked up as though she’d suddenly remembered something. “Hey, where’s Pinkie?” she asked. “I didn’t hear her. I can usually hear her screaming and yelling her head off.”

Rarity and Fluttershy looked at each other, as though they expected that the other might have an answer. Finally Rarity said, “I don’t know. I suppose I thought she was coming with Applejack.”

“Me too,” agreed Fluttershy. “I stopped by the animal rescue on my way here, but I would have picked her up if she’d needed me to.”

“I haven’t seen either Pinkie or Applejack,” Rarity said. “They must be together.”

Applejack ran up to them, puffing and almost breathless. “Sorry I’m late, y’all. Did I miss anything?”

Rainbow Dash snorted. “Depends on what you mean. You missed an epic fail, I’ll tell you that. Where’s Pinkie? We all thought she was coming with you.”

Applejack pulled off her hat and twisted it around in her hands. “She’s . . .uh. . . she’s probably home by now.”

Rainbow Dash furrowed her brows. “What do you mean, she’s probably home by now? Where was she?” Applejack shifted from foot to foot, her eyes anywhere but meeting Rainbow Dash’s. “Where’s Pinkie?” Rainbow Dash insisted.

“Well,” said Applejack, hesitating, “actually, last I saw her, she was in the hospital. There was an accident.”

“What?” yelped Rainbow Dash, and Rarity and Fluttershy gasped, jumping to their feet. “What kind of accident?”

Every word from Applejack came reluctantly, as if dragged out of her. “She fell,” she admitted. “Out of the ceiling grid at the gym. She had a concussion. But the doctor said she was going to be fine,” she hastened to add.

Rainbow Dash grabbed Applejack by the arms, just above the elbows, and practically shook her. “Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed. “Pinkie doesn’t get hurt like that. She does crazy stuff, and I’ve practically never seen her get hurt!” She released Applejack, pushing her away, and began to pace in a tight circle. “And when she does get hurt, she bounces right back. If she’s in the hospital, she’s got to be hurt really badly! Why didn’t someone tell me? I saw her just last night—she was whipping all around the grid like it was nothing! Her . . . and Cheese.” She froze. “Applejack,” she asked, her voice level and face neutral, “where’s Cheese?”

“He’s . . . um. . . last I saw, he seemed fine,” Applejack replied. She directed her gaze to the sky, lips clenched tightly.

“Oh,” said Rainbow Dash. She was speaking in the same quiet tone, but her body was tense; her fists were balled and planted on her hips. She was standing in a puddle, but seemed completely unaware of it. “How nice for him. Pinkie nearly bashes her brains out, and he hasn’t got a scratch. I don’t suppose he thought to give anyone the keys I lent them, or did he lose them, too?”

“Now, don’t you fret, RD,” Applejack said. She stepped forward as though she were about to pat Dash’s shoulder, and then dropped her hand, clearly thinking better of it. “The keys aren’t lost. Vice Principal Luna took ‘em when the paramedics came.” She slapped her hands across her mouth.

Rainbow Dash stood in the puddle for a few moments, opening and closing her mouth, apparently unable to speak. Then she stepped forward, an ugly red spreading up her neck and face, clenching and unclenching her fists. “Vice Principal Luna?” she spluttered. “Pinkie in the hospital? Paramedics? WHAT?” she snapped, as she whirled around to face the three people who had just joined them.

Lightning Dust stood there with two of her Cloudsdale teammates, freshly showered, and in clean light green and yellow tracksuits. “I just wanted to say, ‘good game,’” she said. “Probably not a great time to say so, but your team gave us a real run for our money.”

“Really impressive,” lisped a girl whose blond hair was nearly white, her eyes focused beyond Rainbow Dash to where Soarin was jogging up behind her.

Rainbow Dash took a deep breath or two, blowing out the exhales, and then said with a twisted smile, “What you mean is that I single-handedly blew the game, but I’m glad you got to see how awesome my team really is. I told you so, didn’t I? Anyway,” she said, with another deep breath, “yeah. Good game.” She stretched out her right hand and Lightning Dust shook it.

“Good game,” agreed the other girl. “It’s great to see you back at Cloudsdale again.” Her eyes flicked to where Fluttershy was standing. Fluttershy dropped her eyes and said nothing, and Dusty didn’t seem inclined to recognize her further. “I’m surprised not to see your cheerleader.”

Rainbow Dash greeted this with a puzzled frown. “What are you talking about? Our cheerleaders were here.”

Dusty shook her head. “I mean your personal cheerleader. We all went to lunch together. Can’t remember her name. Pink hair. I thought she came to all your games. Unless she had more auditions or something.”

Rainbow Dash took another deep breath, but this time her exhale was more shaky. “Pinkie Pie couldn’t be here. She had an accident. She’s hurt.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Dusty. “Well, tell her from me that I hope she gets better soon.”

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, drooping her head. Dusty and her teammates walked away. Just before they were out of earshot, the four friends and Soarin heard Dusty murmur “stable goat” to Fleetfoot, who giggled. Dash’s head snapped back up.

“Did she just call Pinkie a goat? A goat? Hey,” she shouted, “did you just call my friend a goat? You want to come back over here and say that to my face? Huh? A goat? Did you call Pinkie a goat?” Her fists were balling up again and her elbows flexed, and she started to race forward towards Lightning Dust. Fluttershy shrieked, “DASHIE, NO!” and ran towards her.

Soarin stepped in front of Dash, so that she slammed into him. He said “oof!” but refused to move, blocking every attempt to get past him.

“Dashie, no,” repeated Fluttershy, and after a few more exhortations on her part and Soarin’s determined blocking, Dash gave up.

“It’s not funny,” she growled. “Pinkie getting hurt isn’t funny.” She squeezed her eyes shut a few times. “I don’t care what anyone says. It’s not normal. It’s someone’s fault.”

Applejack stepped forward and put a restraining hand on Dash’s shoulder. “Honey, it was an accident. It’s no one’s fault. That’s what an accident is.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dash snapped, shaking Applejack’s hand off. “Well, Pinkie got hurt, and someone’s responsible. I am going to rip whoever hurt her limb from limb, and I’m going to enjoy it. And where the heck was Cheese, anyway?”

Fluttershy coughed. “I just tried calling him,” she said softly. “It said the number’s not in service.”

“I’ll just bet it isn’t. How convenient,” snarled Dash, and stormed off to the showers.

“I think both of you know why you’re here,” said the vice principal. “Explain.”

Vice Principal Luna’s office bore witness to the fact that she was the one primarily responsible for discipline at Canterlot High. It certainly wasn’t intended to reassure any of the miscreants called to appear before her. Its primary decoration consisted of a painting of a nighttime landscape with an imposing, almost threatening full moon, beneath which was placed a vase of artificial white lilies. Filing cabinets on each wall were filled with the disciplinary records of every student currently in attendance. A pale circular desk bore little but the equipment for the school P.A. system, and a brass plate with VICE PRINCIPAL LUNA—THE BIT STOPS HERE.

Some of the wall decorations, however, hinted at a lighter-hearted element of the occupant’s character. Trophies in the shape of the balls used in various sports were placed on the cabinets. Prize ribbons for games and sports were in frames on the walls, as were photographs of triumphant CHS teams. Many of the most recent of these included Rainbow Dash.

The blinds were drawn, blocking out most of the brilliant May sunshine. The sole guest chair was intentionally low, forcing the sitter into an inferior position. As there was only one chair, Rainbow Dash and Cheese Sandwich were forced to stand.

The vice principal pulled two folders from a drawer and placed them on her desk. Both were turned so that the names were not easily legible. One was of a moderate size, containing some pages with the green and gold of Cloudsdale Prep. The other was the size of a small city phone book, and bulged with sub-folders, documents in the colored stationery of a half a dozen different schools, and red bookmarks.

“Well?” the vice principal prodded. “I found two students in the gym at midnight this Friday, surrounded by structural damage. One of them narrowly escaped very serious injury. I also found this.” She held up a set of keys with Rainbow Dash’s key fob still attached. “I’d like to know how this happened.”

Cheese kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. Rainbow Dash glared at him. “I’ll start, ma’am. I was in the gym on Friday afternoon. Pinkie and Cheese were wiring up the grid with stuff for the Cake Festival, and I was trying to unwind and get ready for the game on Saturday. They ran out of time, and Pinkie said she’d like to keep going, and I needed to get home.”

“And?” prompted Vice Principal Luna.

“And they wanted the keys. Actually, I offered to let them have the keys,” Dash admitted. “I wasn’t thrilled about it, but Pinkie said it was their last chance to get everything done. I told them to be careful. The next thing I knew, it was Saturday and we lost, and Applejack came running up to me, telling me that Pinkie was in the hospital. That’s really everything I know.”

“Um,” Cheese interrupted, “Pinkie wanted to keep going, but I was the one who suggested leaving and coming back later. Rainbow Dash wasn’t going to be able to be there then, so it was probably my fault that—”

“And why exactly did you want to leave and come back later?” the vice principal asked.

Cheese was silent for a moment. “In order to break my curfew. I’m not permitted to be out after 5 pm. I had to sneak out of the house.”

“So in addition to being here after hours, you were also disobeying your aunt. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever,” snorted Rainbow Dash, rolling her eyes. “I take full responsibility, ma’am.”

Vice Principal Luna nodded. “Good,” she said. “Unfortunately, your actions have shown that you aren’t quite responsible enough. You are certainly not responsible enough to have these keys, and they will not be returned to you. The alarm code will be reset. Here is the fob.” She removed the lightning bolt chain and placed it on the desk.

Rainbow Dash took it and said, “Thank you, ma’am, I—”

“I am not finished. You are also removed from your position as captain of the soccer team.”

“But ma’am!”

“And you are barred from participation in any team sports for the rest of the school year.”

“But we could still make the playoffs! And they can’t without me!”

“Participation in school activities is a privilege, not a right, Miss Dash. It can be withdrawn when appropriate, and here I think it is. Believe me,” she added grimly, “I am almost as sorry about it as you are. You may return to class now.”

Rainbow Dash stood there for a moment, shaking and taking a few deep breaths before she spoke. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, picked up her backpack, and slipped out the door, but not before shooting Cheese a look of pure hatred.

“And now,” continued the vice principal, pulling the large file folder towards her and flipping through it, “we come to you, Mr. Sandwich. Your file makes for some very interesting reading, as I’m sure you know.”

“Yes,” he murmured.

The vice principal put on her reading glasses. “Transcripts from five different schools, records from several institutions—hmmm,” she said, frowning, “a bit more than I’d expect to see in a strictly academic file. Usually those are limited to health records. We’ve drawn up an Individual Education Plan, and there are quite a lot of instructions from your parents. Let’s see . . . restrictions on non-academic activities, especially those having to do with party planning, entertainment, music, and the performing arts; permission granted to order full psychiatric evaluations; even referrals to a number of specialists who have evaluated you in the past.” She closed the file, removed her glasses, and looked Cheese full in the eye. “I could, of course, recommend a psychiatric evaluation if necessary.”

Cheese made a sound of agreement that wasn’t quite a word, and dropped his head.

“But I’m not convinced that it is necessary,” she continued. “To me, it seems to be more a disciplinary matter than a medical one. As a disciplinary matter, it is very serious. Fortunately, we’ve established that breaking and entering wasn’t involved. You certainly did trespass, however, and your actions may have contributed to damage to school property and the injury of a fellow student, so there is also the question of minor criminal charges.”

Cheese simply nodded, eyes on the floor, but he went very pale.

“I can’t bar you from participating in the Cake Festival,” she said, rising from her chair. “That’s up to your aunt, not to me. I am referring the psychiatric and legal questions to my sister, who will consult the relevant authorities. You are suspended, on site, until further notice. You will report to my office one half hour before the school day begins and be dismissed one half hour after the school day ends, in order to limit your contact with other students. Is that clear?”

“ . . . yes,” Cheese said.

“I’m very discouraged to see the same problems throughout your record recurring here. It’s a vicious circle.”

Cheese nodded again, then looked up. “Vice Principal Luna?”

“Yes?”

“Just—whatever happens, please give me something to do,” he begged. “I don’t even care what it is. Give me something to do until you decide what you’re going to do with me.”

“You’re not in a position to make conditions, Mr. Sandwich. However, I’ll consider it,” she said, withdrawing a set of keys from her desk drawer. “Now, if you’ll follow me, please. Bring your belongings, as I’m afraid that according to school regulations, we’re required to lock you in.”

Cheese picked up his backpack. “I’m tired of this,” he said. “I don’t even care anymore. I just want this to be over.”

“That’s entirely possible,” Vice Principal Luna said, and led the way out of her office.

“And then Soarin completely freaked out,” Dash complained, as she made bread pellets and bounced them against the side of her glass. “All I did was say, ‘congratulations, you’re now team captain for the rest of the season. Try not to screw it up.’”

It hadn’t taken long for the story of last Friday’s accident, or some version of it, to spread throughout CHS. It would have been impossible not to notice that Pinkie was absent: without her energy and infectious giggles, Canterlot High was a much quieter place, and the knowledge that she’d been hurt left the entire school subdued, even depressed. Even the addition of the humiliating defeat to Cloudsdale Prep on Saturday couldn’t begin to account for the general gloom, which only fed pessimism about the accident and Pinkie’s condition. Rumor had it that she was in an intensive care unit, or even that she’d been transferred to a specialist hospital. Her injuries were wildly exaggerated, despite Applejack’s determined repetition that Pinkie had been discharged the next day, and was now resting at home, recovering from a concussion.

“And if they aren’t gonna believe me,” she said in exasperation, “who are they gonna believe? I’m her cousin, for heaven’s sake, and it’s not like my nose grows from lying all the time.”

Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy had all stopped in to see Pinkie for brief visits. Although she was lying down and resting in a darkened room, they’d seen for themselves that she was getting better quickly. She was very bored, and confused about some things; she didn’t remember the accident or its aftermath at all; but there was no doubt that she was going to make a full recovery.

There was no clear consensus about Cheese. The students had come to like Pinkie’s tall, skinny, amusing shadow, so that a whisper campaign that he had somehow harmed Pinkie on purpose gained no traction. The idea was openly scoffed at by the Great and Powerful Trixie, for, as she pointed out, would Vice Principal Luna allow a violent student to remain on school grounds? “The public is so gullible,” she said, and sniffed.

Bizarre events no one could explain had begun to happen: the P.A. system interrupting Principal Celestia’s morning announcement with knock-knock jokes, snakes in a can appearing in domestic science class, and Mr. Doodle’s desk playing “I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy” every time he opened a drawer. Every time something like this occurred, there were involuntary snorts of laughter, until someone remembered Pinkie and decided that laughter was inappropriate, and then the whole cycle would start all over again.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Rainbow,” said Applejack, rolling her eyes, “the world doesn’t revolve around you and that soccer team.”

“Yeah, it does,” insisted Rainbow Dash. “Ok, maybe it doesn’t, but the point is that I’m off the team and Pinkie’s hurt and this is all someone’s fault, and maybe if it weren’t for Cheese, none of this would have happened.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Fluttershy said, throwing her shoulders back. “I know him a lot better than you do, Rainbow. We study together every week. He’s very nice, even to pickled animals, although I wish we could stop using those, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to Pinkie. I walked by the classroom Vice Principal Luna put him in, and he looks so bored and frustrated. It’s sad to see him locked up someplace too small for him. It reminds me of that movie about killer whales.”

Applejack shook her head. “Fluttershy, only you would think of Cheese Sandwich as a killer whale.”

“Well, he should have done more to keep Pinkie from getting hurt,” snapped Dash.

“He did,” said Applejack, and then slapped her hand over her mouth. She sighed. “Listen, RD, I was there. Trust me, if it weren’t for Cheese, Pinkie would’ve been hurt a lot more than what she was.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Dash, leaning her foot against the table and pushing, so that her chair teetered back. “How?”

“It’s not my story to tell,” said Applejack, folding her arms. “I don’t know. I’m sure he tried to help and he means well and all, but . . . maybe it’s not all that great for him and Pinkie to spend too much time together. They set each other off. He makes her a lot worse, y’know? He’s suspended, she’s home sick—I say, let sleeping dogs lie. Best if they weren’t friends, probably.”

“How can you say that?” fumed Fluttershy. “He’s our friend! He’s my friend, anyway, and I thought he was yours, too. I thought we all learned our lessons about not just dropping your friends when bad things happen. We’re supposed to be giving Sunset a second chance, and she turned into a big scary mean demon monster, and you want to just drop Cheese because he’s in trouble?”

“Are you sure he’s not dropping us?” said Rainbow Dash. “Has he returned even one of your calls?”

“No,” admitted Fluttershy, lowering her eyes. “But I’m sure there’s a good reason. Don’t you think so, Rarity?”

Rarity took a sip of sparkling water. “Have any of you considered that no one is organizing the Cake Festival now? Both the organizer and her assistant are unable to perform their duties, and no one knows when or if they will be able to resume them. What will happen to the Cake Festival?” She put down her glass and looked at each of them in turn. “A considerable amount of time and money have been invested. Cancellation at this point would have repercussions for every business involved, and it might well be disastrous for the Cakes. Prim is already concerned. I did not like to mention it before, because compared to Pinkie’s injury, it seemed too trivial.” She glanced at Rainbow Dash, who glared back. “It seems to me that the best way we can help Pinkie would be to step in and do her work while she and Cheese are unable to continue.”

Applejack leaned her cheek on her fist. “Guess that’s so. The festival was important enough to Pinkie that she and Cheese were up till midnight working, and that’s how she got hurt. Wouldn’t be right for it to come to nothing if it’s that important to her.”

“Cheese knew he could be in big trouble, too,” insisted Fluttershy, “and now he is, and I think it’s only fair to help them out.”

They all looked at Rainbow Dash. To everyone’s surprise, she nodded immediately. “It’s important to Pinkie,” she said, banging her fist on the table. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Rarity. “This afternoon, we will call on the Cakes and ask what needs to be done. The boutique is frantically busy, but I shall make the time.”

Rainbow Dash shrugged. “I’ve been kicked off the team,” she said bitterly. “What else have I got to do?”

“Pinkie’s kin,” Applejack said.

Fluttershy coughed. “We do have final exams soon.” Judging from their expressions, everyone had forgotten this. She continued, “But I think I can manage, and I’ll help any of you if you need it.”

Rarity nodded. “We will all manage.” She held out her hand, and the rest placed theirs over hers. “We’ll get it done together,” she said, and as they dropped their hands, she added, “and if not, that is what little sisters are for.”

“It’s official,” groaned Rainbow Dash, holding her head in her hands. “I fail at life.”

The Canterlot Comets had gone down to humiliating and unexpected defeat against the Dream Valley Dazzlers, and Rainbow Dash was still trying to accept it. “The Dazzlers? Seriously? They’re at the bottom of the league! How could this happen?” she exclaimed, windmilling her arms.

“It’s a nice day,” Fluttershy pointed out, but this didn’t seem to cheer Dash up. She slapped her baseball cap down on the ground, ran her fingers through her multi-colored hair, and groaned louder.

It was, in fact, a very nice day. The parents of the Little Leaguers playing the game had brought picnics to Luna Park and made a day of it. To their credit, none of them had begun the booing or yelling that happened at some Little League games. The Canterlot side of the risers had simply grown quieter as the Dazzlers ratcheted up run after run.

“What happened?” Dash wondered, turning to Fluttershy and clutching her arm.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t know anything about sports. I think the Comets all look good. But, um—that’s just my opinion,” she said. “I could be wrong.” She sipped her smoothie.

“They are good!” insisted Dash, spreading her arms wide. “They’re great kids. They’re a great team. They’re the best.” She shook her head. “I blew it. Again. I blew it as a coach, and this time I ruined it for the kids. I shouldn’t have put First Base in as pitcher so soon. I should have put Archer batting fourth, not first. I could put Scootaloo anywhere and the kid would shine in any position, and I still had her playing the wrong position somehow! I should have . . .”

“Um, hi, Rainbow Dash,” said Scootaloo.

She’d come up unnoticed from somewhere while Dash was in full lament. Now she stood in front of Rainbow Dash, with First Base at her side. Both of them stared up at Dash, eyes aglow.

“Do you really think I’d shine anywhere, Rainbow Dash?” said Scootaloo, bouncing on her toes.

Dash looked down at her and tugged her cap. “Yep,” she said, smiling. “You’re awesome.”

“Yes!” yelled Scootaloo, jumping straight up in the air and pumping her fist. “Just like you! You heard her, Base. I’m awesome.” First Base stuck his tongue out at her.

“I hate to break it to you guys,” said Rainbow Dash, “but in case you didn’t notice, we lost.”

“Aw, that’s ok,” said First Base. “My brother Flash always says everybody’s gotta be a loser sometimes. Plus, we learned a lesson, too.”

“What?” said Rainbow Dash, picking up her cap and slapping it against her leg to knock off the dirt. “That even the best team can lose if they’re got a bad coach?”

First Base and Scootaloo stared at each other, then laughed. “No!” said Scootaloo. “That even if you lose or come in second, you can be all kinds of awesome anyway.” She held up her fist for a fist bump.

Rainbow Dash bumped fists with her. “You’re the best, squirt,” she said. Scootaloo and First Base ran off, and Dash watched them go. “Say it,” she droned in a flat monotone. “Just go ahead and say it, Fluttershy.”

“What do you want me to say, Rainbow?” asked Fluttershy, and drew loudly on her smoothie.

“That I’ve got an ego the size of a blimp. That I depend on constant rah-rah cheering and admiration, and if I don’t get it, I’m an incompetent jerk. That I’m blaming Cheese because I don’t want to think any of this is my fault.” She glared at Fluttershy. “You can stop me any time, y’know.”

Fluttershy shook her head. “No, that’s ok,” she said. “I think you’re doing just fine.”

Rainbow Dash looked down at the dirt, digging a hole with her shoe. She burst out, “I should have been there for Pinkie. I should have stayed and maybe helped them out, or at least waited until they were done. Or,” she muttered, “I never should have given Pinkie the keys in the first place.”

Fluttershy said nothing, but simply gave Dash a look full in the eyes. “Which was why Vice Principal Luna kicked me off the team, because that was wrong, and I deserved it. I get it. I get it, Fluttershy!” she snapped. “You don’t have to rub it in.” She picked up her backpack, and they began to walk towards Fluttershy’s car.

“Do you think it’s true what AJ said?” she said, as they strolled through the parking lot. “That Cheese kept Pinkie from being more hurt than she was?”

“Applejack doesn’t lie, so yes,” Fluttershy said, and nodded. “I think it’s true.”

Rainbow Dash kicked a soda can. “It should have been me,” she muttered. “I should have been the one. Maybe I could have kept Pinkie from getting hurt at all.”

Fluttershy stopped walking, turned to Dash, and put her hand on her shoulder. “What do you think you could have done more or better than Cheese to keep that from happening?” she said gently.

“I don’t know!” Dash shouted. “I don’t even know what he did!” Fluttershy had removed her hand and walked away. “Uh, hey, Fluttershy,” Dash said casually, as she jogged to catch up to her friend, “did you ever get through to Cheese?”

“No,” said Fluttershy, shaking her head. “I stopped trying.” Seeing Dash’s confused expression, she explained, “The last time I walked by the room Cheese is in, he was surrounded by lots and lots of paper and he was writing. I guess Vice Principal Luna gave him some homework. Anyway, he saw me, scribbled something on a piece of paper and held it up. It said, ‘Grounded. No phone. Sorry.’ And then there were a bunch of numbers and letters, and I tried to remember them and copy them down, but I don’t know what they mean. Anyway, Cheese doesn’t have a phone, and he probably doesn’t have a laptop, either, and he’s grounded. Applejack won’t tell you what happened, and Pinkie doesn’t remember. Do you really want to know? Because I want to see how Cheese is doing.”

“Yes,” said Rainbow Dash. “Phew, your car smells,” she added, as she slipped into the passenger seat. “How are you going to do that?”

“There’s really only one way, isn’t there?” said Fluttershy, as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“You’re kidding me,” said Rainbow Dash, as they stood in front of Cheese’s aunt’s house. “That place looks like it’s missing its Nightmare Night decorations.”

“It’s really a very nice old-fashioned house,” Fluttershy replied. “The widow’s walk is a cute little touch.” She swallowed.

The house still looked far from welcoming. The blinds were drawn, and there were no lights on inside. The only indication that anyone was at home issued from a third story window, where someone was playing an extremely slow and mournful version of “Roll Out The Barrels.” The player kept sticking on the phrase about having the blues on the run; he was making mistakes, stopping, going back, and trying again, over and over.

“Well,” said Fluttershy, her voice quavering, “I have to try.” She took a deep breath, tucked a book under her arm, walked up the stairs, and rang the doorbell.

Rainbow Dash watched in astonishment as her friend talked to the unsmiling older lady who answered the front door. Fluttershy spoke to her for a few moments, the lady closed the door, and Fluttershy returned to the car. She leaned on it, trembling, and took a few more deep breaths, then pushed herself up.

“I told Cheese’s Aunt Mela that he’d left behind his textbook. I could tell she knew I was lying. She said that if Cheese had left it at school through his own carelessness, it was his own fault, and he could get it on Monday. I asked if I could see him, and she said no; she said he was grounded and that there was no point in calling. And here I am.”

Rainbow Dash spluttered for a moment, and said, “‘Shy, did you just walk up to that house—that house—and talk to a total stranger?”

Fluttershy looked up with a shaky smile. “Yes,” she said. “And . . . and I think I’m okay to drive now.” She opened the driver’s side door and got in.

Rainbow Dash ran around to the passenger’s side and got in, too. “I think that’s got to be one of the bravest things you’ve ever done, ‘Shy,” she said, eyes wide with wonder. “I’m amazed.”

“Good,” said Fluttershy, as she turned the key in the ignition. “Then you won’t mind helping me break Cheese out of that room on Monday.”

Author's Note

A chapter with neither Pinkie nor Cheese in it--how can this be? Don't worry, they'll be back onstage soon enough, and meanwhile, you get a chance to see how the other characters interact.

I'm trying to beat that September 27th Rainbow Rocks deadline, so other writing projects may take a back seat for a while.

Only When It's Funny

Rainbow Dash glanced over to where Soarin was lounging back in his chair, with four cheerleaders practically draped over him.

“Meh,” she muttered. “Win one game, and all of a sudden you’re some kind of big bad hero.”

“Shh, Rainbow!” Fluttershy hissed. “We’re supposed to be reviewing the Triple Agreement of Prance, Allemaneia, and Great Bitain!”

“What?” replied Rainbow Dash defensively. “If Harshwhinny’s gonna go after anyone, it’ll be Soarin and his fan club over there. Honestly, they should just get themselves a room. And like anyone can concentrate with all of that weird stuff going on. Freaky, huh? I thought that stopped last week, and now here it is again.”

It had been very difficult to concentrate all day. Bizarre sounds were floating through the PA system—musical runs like those of a harmonica, or the short toots of party horns. Confetti launched itself out of wastepaper baskets and air ducts. Every so often, the scent of nachos or fruit punch would waft through the air. It was as though some eerie metaphysical party were trying to break through. Ms. Harshwhinny was fully occupied keeping her notes intact on the whiteboard; they kept erasing themselves and drawing smiley faces, suns, and stars instead. Rainbow Dash was right. She and Fluttershy could have held a conversation at full volume and their teacher wouldn’t have noticed.

“Still,” murmured Fluttershy, “we shouldn’t draw any attention to ourselves. Are you sure you’re ok with doing this?”

“I promised I would,” said Rainbow. “I still don’t know what to think about Cheese, but I’ll trust you on this one. Now, what’s the plan?”

Fluttershy sketched a quick diagram on the back of the study guide Ms. Harshwhinny had given them. “Cheese is on the ground floor,” she said, tracing their route with her pencil. “It’s that classroom next to the old chemistry lab. When the bell rings, we’ll fly right down there as fast as we can and unlock the door so I can talk to him.”

“Good,” said Rainbow Dash, following the diagram with her eyes and nodding. “I’d like to hear his explanation firsthand.”

Long strands of silky pink hair shifted and settled as Fluttershy shook her head. “Oh, no,” she said. “You have to race back to class the second we get the door open. You shouldn’t get into any more trouble.”

Rainbow Dash furrowed her eyebrows. “What about you?”

Fluttershy looked her old friend directly in the eye. “I don’t have anything for eighth period,” she said, “and I don’t get into trouble all that much.”

“Ever,” the other girl corrected.

Fluttershy shrugged in acknowledgment. “I suppose Vice Principal Luna could give me a detention, but,” she drew a deep breath, “I’m willing to risk that. Are you ready?”

The two girls quietly put away their belongings, trying not to draw the attention of Ms. Harshwhinny. She was usually very strict about not packing up before class was over, but fortunately, she was too distracted by party phenomena and by Soarin and his groupies to notice. When the bell rang, they darted down the corridor and down the stairs as though they had wings on their heels. It wasn’t until they actually reached the room where Cheese was detained that they realized the flaw in their plan.

“I thought you knew how to open locked doors!” Fluttershy wailed under her breath, as they crouched down, desperately trying to force the lock.

Rainbow Dash snorted. “Pssht, yeah, when I can kick ‘em down,” she replied. “We can try wiggling the doorknob.”

This did not work. Neither did the hairpin Dash borrowed from Fluttershy; it was withdrawn, twisted and bent. Meanwhile, their time was running out.

“Dangit,” Rainbow Dash snarled, peering into the lock’s interior, as Fluttershy bent down by her side. “If Pinkie were here and she wanted to get on the other side of that door, she’d be there by now. We need Pinkie for this—Pinkie, or someone like . . .”

There was a brief rattle, a pop, and the door cracked open. Both girls froze in place. Their eyes traveled upwards, and they saw Cheese Sandwich looking down at them, holding the doorknob on the other side of the door. Their jaws dropped.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” he said, and smiled.

Rainbow Dash zoomed off to class, while Cheese pulled Fluttershy inside the classroom he’d been locked in. The door had scarcely snicked shut when he asked, eyes wide and muscles tense with anxiety, “How's Pinkie?”

“She’s getting better,” replied Fluttershy, a little anxious herself at Cheese’s intensity.

“Is she still in the hospital?” he pressed.

“Oh, no,” Fluttershy said, shaking her head. “She’s been home for days and days.”

“They didn’t hold her?” he pressed further.

“No,” Fluttershy said. Unconsciously, she began to use the tone of voice she would have used had Cheese been a panicked cat or dog brought in to the rescue center: kindly, but firm.
“Cheese, she’s at home and getting better. You believe me, don’t you?”

He paused, his eyes searching hers. At last he said, “Yes, I believe you.”

Fluttershy sat at one of the desks, her legs crossed at the ankle and her hand flat on the desk’s surface. If she had hoped that her placid posture would calm Cheese down, she was disappointed. He was still hovering near the teacher’s desk, still wide-eyed and hyperalert. “It’s just that I don’t know anything about what’s been going on, and the last time I saw Pinkie was in the hospital, and I thought that maybe. . .”

Fluttershy frowned. “Does this have anything to do with Pinkie’s bipolar disorder?” She thought for a moment. “You have it too, don’t you?”

Cheese sat down suddenly on the desk, jaw dropped. “You know about Pinkie? You know about me? How? Did Applejack tell you?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. Applejack would never tell. I know because Pinkie’s one of my best friends. We all know. We all look out for each other. I knew as soon as I saw her last week . . .”

“You saw her? Is she ok?” Cheese said, interrupting her.

“Yes,” Fluttershy went on. “As I said, she’s getting better, but I could see how wound up she was, and I felt bad about not noticing before. And with you—I just guessed, but it made sense once I thought about it. No, they didn’t keep Pinkie, but I think they adjusted her medications. I’ll tell you what’s been going on and anything you want to know in a minute, but first, tell me—how are you?”

Cheese shrugged. “How should I be? There’s nothing to tell. I’m grounded. I have to go straight to school and come straight home. Aunt Mela’s got my laptop and my phone. She’s ex-FBI, so there was no point in trying to make it harder to access my files than it already was. Luckily, she didn’t find any porn or anything illegal on them, so she just locked them up. Did you look at that website, by the way?”

“What website?” Fluttershy said.

“The one I put on that note.”

“Oh,” said Fluttershy. “That’s what it was.”

“I uploaded some pictures of the accident Applejack took with my phone. I knew it was as good as impounded, so I had to work fast. You mean you didn’t see them?” Fluttershy shook her head. “Well, for gosh sake, forward the address to Vice Principal Luna right now. She needs to see those.”

“Ok,” said Fluttershy, as she sent the email.

“I’m lucky it was Aunt Mela and not my mother who got hold of my phone and my laptop. My mother would have gone through everything on there. And while we’re on the subject of my mother, she thinks this is proof positive that I’m dangerously mentally ill, and she’s all for getting me put somewhere for my own good and for the safety of myself and others. I’d bet anything she’s trying to do that right now, but for some reason, it’s been a little tougher than usual orchestrating that from Saddle Arabia. I think that maybe this time, everyone doesn’t agree with her. Vice Principal Luna hinted at that.”

“What happened with Vice Principal Luna?”

“Well, I’m suspended, obviously,” said Cheese, “and she’s making some kind of inquiry. I begged her to give me something to do, and she said if I really wanted to have something to do that badly, I could take finals early. I’d been locked up a whole day by then, and I was ready to scream with boredom, so I said yes. They were much harder than I thought they’d be. How much material does one of your finals usually cover?”

“Oh, um—a semester, or a unit. Sometimes it’s a whole year.”

Cheese frowned. “That’s weird. I could have sworn they covered almost everything I’ve learned since ninth grade and then some, but I’ve been in and out of lots of schools by now, so what do I know? Anyway, that’s everything, so please tell me what’s been happening, and start with Pinkie, and don’t leave anything out.”

He sat on the desk as Fluttershy told him everything that had been going on for the last week and a half. At first, he was anxiously perched there: not so much seated as hovering like a hummingbird. She explained that Pinkie really wasn’t in any danger. While it wasn’t clear that he was fully persuaded of this, he settled more firmly onto the desk and sat there, his legs crossed and his chin pillowed on his fist, his tall, thin body bent into sharp angles like a folding ruler, and simply listened without interrupting.

She told him about the way they had stepped in to continue his and Pinkie’s work for the Cake Festival, and he smiled. His brows creased when she went on to describe the bizarre noises, confetti, and random jokes coming through the PA system. If he understood anything more about them than she did, he gave no sign of it. Without intending to, she found herself talking a lot about Rainbow Dash and almost defending her: how crushed she’d been at the disastrous Cloudsdale match and at the Comets game, how much she depended on her success as an athlete, how lost she felt without it.

“And I don’t blame her, Cheese,” she concluded. “You weren’t there for the Cloudsdale game, but I was, and we were at school there together, and . . . and it wasn’t very nice,” she finished lamely.

“When you say, ‘it wasn’t very nice’ in that tone . . .” Cheese shook his head. “Rainbow Dash must want to kill me.”

“Oh, not anymore!” Fluttershy said with a sudden smile, and then murmured with downcast eyes, “oh, um . . . sorry. Yes, she was very mad at you at first for getting her kicked off the soccer team, but now she understands that it was mostly her own fault . . . I think. What she’s really upset about is Pinkie. She says Pinkie does all kinds of crazy things and doesn’t get hurt, and that there’s something fishy about it if she did. She thinks maybe if she’d been there, Pinkie wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and I think—please don’t get mad, Cheese—I think she thought it was your fault.” She held up her hand as Cheese unfolded himself and leaned forward for an angry retort. “I don’t think she thinks that anymore, because Applejack said Pinkie would have been hurt a lot worse if it weren’t for you, but she doesn’t understand how Pinkie got hurt and you walked away without a scratch, especially if you tried to help. She wants to know how that happened and why.”

Cheese’s eyes narrowed. “And you do, too, don’t you? Is he crazy, or a freak, or both? And you were wondering why I don’t even try to make friends.”

Fluttershy shook her head and squeezed her eyes tight. “That’s not fair at all. I just wanted to know. I’m sorry,” she quavered, and then clamped her lips to stop them from trembling.

Cheese ran his hands down his face. “No, I’m sorry. I really am. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, and I almost forgot I had any friends at all. I’ll try to explain, but it’s a lot easier to show you than to tell you. Is that ok?”

She nodded, eyes still shut and lips still clamped. He slid off the desk, walked over to her, leaned down, and put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you upset about anything?”

She burst into tears. “Y-yes!” she wailed. “I’m upset about Pinkie and I’m upset about you, and Dashie’s so miserable and I’m upset about that, and all I want is for my friends to be ok and to be friends again!” She folded her arms on the desk and dropped her head on them, sobbing.

“Uh,” said Cheese, awkwardly dropping his hand and stepping back, “do you need to be cheered up? Yeah, obviously,” he muttered to himself, and then he added aloud, “This bit is important, Fluttershy. Would seeing something funny help?” She nodded, her head still buried in her arms. “That’s all I needed to know. Watch this.”

He began backing up. Fluttershy lifted her head, dried her eyes, and opened them as Cheese muttered, “slowly I turned, step by step, inch by inch,” until he backed up into a chair and fell completely over it in a backwards somersault, landing on his feet and knocking the chairs into a rolling series of crashes, like an enormous set of dominoes. Startled, he jumped straight up into the air, eyes bugging out, hair standing on end, and legs cycling on nothing, and then he ran straight through the wall, leaving a perfectly Cheese-shaped hole. There were crashing and tinkling noises from the old chemistry lab next door, and finally a small explosion.

Fluttershy covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide, until Cheese poked his head back through the hole. He was apparently completely unharmed, although he was covered from head to foot in plaster dust, which made his curly hair appear prematurely gray. “You ok?”

Fluttershy began to giggle and then to laugh until the tears streamed down her face. “Wow,” said Cheese, stepping back into the room through the hole as she sniffed and blew her nose, “you must have needed a laugh more than I thought.” He turned to look at the devastation he’d left, and sighed. “This is really going to dent my savings account, and then some.” Some drywall crumbled and crashed. In the chemistry lab next door, something shattered. “For years. Anyway—does that explain things, or make it more confusing?”

Fluttershy stood up, gaping at him, “How did you do that?” She started brushing some of the drywall dust off him. “How does that even work?”

Cheese furrowed his brows, ruffling his hair so that the dust rose out of it like a cloud. “I’m not sure, but I think it only works if it’s funny. One time at a party at school, I walked out of a third floor window, plummeted straight down, and stuck the landing. I was perfectly fine. I wish the headmaster had felt the same way when he saw me zoom past. I thought he was going to have a heart attack. I don’t know why he was so upset; I waved at him and everything. I tried it again a week later when some kid bet me fifty dollars I couldn’t, and that’s how I wound up with a pin in my leg. That was the end of me at that school. So it works if it’s funny, most of the time, but not if I’m just being a smartass.” He leaned over and fluffed some more of the white dust out of his hair.

Fluttershy stopped brushing his shirt and sat down on the teacher’s desk. Her brows contracted with thought. “So if that’s why you didn’t get hurt when you helped Pinkie . . .”

“Oh, I did get hurt,” he said, head still upside down. “Went straight off the ladder and broke my arm, but it healed right up again. I didn’t know I was going to be all right, because it doesn’t work 100% of the time, but I didn’t have time to think about it, anyway.” He gave his head a last shake, and then righted himself.

“If it only works when it’s funny, though,” Fluttershy continued, “why did your arm do that? Why weren’t you killed? That doesn’t sound very funny to me.”

He sat down next to her and tilted his head, considering. “I’ve been trying to figure that out, too, and all I can think is that if Pinkie had gotten killed, it would have been the unfunniest thing ever to happen. I don’t know if I’ve got enough laughter to handle that. Besides, I really owe Pinkie. I’ve known her a lot longer than any of you think.” He slid back on the desk, leaned on his elbows, and sighed, one corner of his mouth turned up in the smallest of smiles.

“I never thought I’d see her again,” he said, his eyes focused on something far away. “When I was pulled out of my last school and my mother gave me one final chance and shipped me off to Great Aunt Mela, I didn’t think anything about Canterlot. It didn’t have any associations for me. All I was thinking was ok, Cheese, you’ve really got to keep your head down and survive this one. Just do what they tell you to, or else. No more goofing off, no more laughter, and no more parties. But like a dummitz, I had to play at the train station one last time, and Rarity found me and pulled me into Sugarcube’s . . .”

“Well, first it was her voice. It hasn’t changed all that much. It’s still the purest soprano I’ve ever heard, like the littlest bell in a carillon. Rarity was saying something, I don’t even remember what, because I was shaking my head and thinking, I know that voice, but I couldn’t place it. Then she popped up from behind the counter and I saw those pink curls, and I just thought, Oh, my God, it’s her.

The small boy sat on a rock by the side of the road, his brown curls already flattening from the sweat rolling down the back of his neck. He wished his mother hadn’t made him wear a long sleeved white shirt and undershirt with khakis for a stupid car trip. At least he’d been able to remove the tie once they got on the road and she wasn’t looking.

He watched the heat shimmer off the road. There wasn’t much else to look at: nothing but different-sized rocks on top of a landscape as flat as a pancake. Further down the road, he could hear his parents, arguing about whose fault it was that the car had died. “Your fault-your fault, your fault-your fault,” the way it always went. He wished they’d hurry up and just get a divorce already, like everyone else’s parents. That made two useless wishes today, and it wasn’t even over.

He took off his glasses, wiped the sweat off his face with his sleeve, and replaced them again. He didn’t see why moving to Manehattan would make things any better. It would just be another school where he had to be the new kid again and put up with the new kid teasing. It was discouraging that no one other than teachers really bothered to learn his name, but since he never got the chance to settle anywhere for long, he supposed they had a point.

A third wish crossed his mind, but it was dumb even to think about it. Everyone was much too busy right now. There was no point in wishing for . . .

“Hey!” someone right behind him squeaked, so suddenly that he bit his tongue. “You’re not allowed to be sad on your birthday!”

He whirled around, and his mouth fell open. There stood a little girl with shocking pink tousled curls, and wide, wide blue eyes, as blue as the summer sky. She was wearing a pink and blue pinafore, and a broad, brilliant smile. The strings to three balloons—two blue and one yellow—were twisted around her wrist. Everything about her was impossible.

Where had she come from? The ground was flat in every direction; he couldn’t see how she could just have appeared like that without his noticing. Where did she get those balloons? Who was she? But all that came out after a full minute of stammering, was . . .

“How did you know it was my birthday?”

She shrugged. “Just did, is all. I’m doing this wrong,” she added, scowling with concentration. She took a deep breath, broke into a smile even more brilliant than the last, and announced, “Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie! I’m here to throw you a party and make you smile!”

What followed was the best day ever. They played I Spy, even though there wasn’t anything to spy but rocks, and Hide And Go Seek, even though there wasn’t anything to hide behind but rocks. They split a cookie she suddenly remembered she had in her pinafore, and it was delicious, despite being mostly crumbs because she’d sat on it. He’d never laughed so much in his life. When his mother called out sharply that the car was fixed, and that it was time for him to get in it, NOW, the little girl gave him a quick, impulsive hug around the neck and a kiss on the cheek.

“Here,” she whispered, thrusting the balloon strings into his hand. “Everybody ought to have a birthday present!” As the car pulled out, he waved from the back window until he couldn’t see the little figure waving back anymore.

He turned around and sat down, the balloons brushing the cheek she’d kissed, and wondered if he had remembered to mention his name. Probably not: he often didn’t, unless he was prompted. Oh, well, it didn’t matter; that really had been the best day ever. He ignored the monologue coming from the front seat about dust, dirt, sweat, and ruining his clothes. He felt a great bubble of joy rising inside. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to get to Manehattan. There were lots of people there, and he wanted to get them all together and help them all be happy and they’d all eat food and play games and have a party, but not like those parties his mother threw, where no one had a good time. These would be the kind where everyone had fun, even if all they had were rocks and cookie crumbs. He’d get to Manehattan, get his accordion out of the trunk, and start making people laugh the way She did. That was the way he’d already begun to think of her: She, with a capital S.

The car pulled up in front of the apartment building, and he scrambled out eagerly, only to be stopped by his mother.

“Cheese, those balloons are filthy,” she said, taking hold of their strings. “It’s time to get rid of them. They’re going to deflate soon anyway. Give them to Mama.”

“No!” he shouted, clinging to them more tightly.

“Cheese!” she snapped, “give Mama the balloons!” And with that, she ripped the strings out of his hands, and let the balloons go.

“I wanted those balloons,” Cheese told Fluttershy, who had been drinking this story in, “so I went after them. Fifteen feet, straight up.” He frowned. “I think that’s when she decided that one of us was crazy, and it certainly wasn’t her. I don’t know what got her down most—the confetti coming from nowhere, the juggling, or the laughter. I even made my father laugh a couple of times, and I wasn’t sure he could do that. And she definitely didn’t like my running through walls and pulling juggling balls from nowhere. You know how at awards dinners, people stand up and say ‘blah-blah-blah, meeting so-and-so changed me?’ Well, meeting Pinkie Pie really changed me. The older I got, the more it bothered her and the harder she tried to get back the normal kid who shut up and did what he was told, but he didn’t exist anymore. As soon as the mood swings kicked in—her side of the family, by the way—she could tell herself that this explained everything, and that there wasn’t anything wrong with me that a good, long stint in the hospital or a special school couldn’t fix, no matter how long it took.”

“That must have been hard,” murmured Fluttershy, her hand cupped in her chin.

“It wasn’t easy,” he agreed, “but I had laughter on my side. It’s a powerful weapon. And in case I ever forgot that, I had these.” He pulled his wallet out from his pants pocket, unzipped an interior partition, and extracted a bundle of strings twisted together. At its center lay three very faded, very old balloons—two blue and one yellow.

“I kept these as a reminder. No matter how bad you feel, something can come around the corner that changes everything. That smile you gave away to a stranger might have meant everything to them. I’m fairly sure Pinkie’s smile didn’t mean anything to her, because she smiles all the time, but it changed my whole life. It might even have saved it. Of course I threw myself off a ladder for her. I owe her. I can stand being grounded, and I can stand being suspended, and I can even stand thinking about being shipped off to some kind of institution again, but worrying about Pinkie was making me crazy.”

Fluttershy sat silent for a long time. Finally she nodded and rose to her feet. “Right,” she said, picking up her backpack and leading the way to the door. “Let’s go.”

“What are you doing?” asked Cheese, as he grabbed his own backpack and followed her.

“What someone should already have done long ago,” she said. “I’m getting you out of here, and I’m taking you to see Pinkie.”

A few quick clicks, and they were out of the supposedly locked room. Neither of them was there when the wall slowly began sealing itself up again.

Fluttershy’s car was an ancient station wagon, and it smelled truly terrible. The back was filled with old towels and humane traps she used for Trap-Neuter-Release. Some of the old tomcats she caught objected to their upcoming change of personality, and they had expressed themselves in the only way they knew how. Cheese didn’t say anything, but his nose wrinkled as they dropped their backpacks next to the traps and got into the car.

Fluttershy hit the gas and peeled out of the parking lot. “It’s like a jailbreak, isn’t it?” she burbled. “It’s so exciting.” Off she raced, the car swaying with its antique suspension. One of the many bumper stickers on the back read I BRAKE FOR EVERYTHING, which meant that her extra speed was frequently interrupted by sudden stops and starts.

“Here,” she said, flipping Cheese her phone as the car rounded a curb with a squeal. “Call your Aunt Mela and tell her you’ll be home late. Just go ahead and do it.” He shook his head, but punched in the numbers.

“Um, hi, Aunt Mela, it’s Cheese. Uh—I wanted to know, I mean—I’m going to be home a little late today. I need to visit a sick friend. – No, really, I’m really visiting a sick friend. – Um, that squealing sound? It was rusty machinery. Listen, can I have at least till 4:30? What? You’re kidding. You’re kidding! Well, yeah! Six is great! See you then!” He hung up the phone. “I have till six!” he whooped. “AND I’m un-grounded, AND I’m getting my phone back! The Mastermind of Muenster strikes again!” He pumped his fists.

“Um, what did you do?” murmured Fluttershy, swerving into another lane.

“Oh, well—let’s just say I didn’t have anything to do, what with my phone and my laptop gone and being grounded. All I had was my accordion. And somehow, all the misery made me forget every single piece of music I knew, except for the Beer Barrel Polka. I don’t know, though—I couldn’t seem to get that one right, either, so I had to keep repeating this one phrase, over and over: ‘blues on the run,’ ‘blues on the run.’ Half the time I got it right, and the other half I didn’t.” He chortled, and his eyes gleamed. “Oh, yes, she’s glad to get me out of the house and communicating with my friends again.”

Fluttershy abruptly swung the car into a parking lot, pulled into a spot clearly marked LOADING ZONE, killed the motor, and yanked the parking brake. “Is my evil rubbing off on you?” Cheese wondered.

“We’re right behind Sugarcube’s now,” Fluttershy hissed. “We can get you in the back door and up the stairs without anyone seeing you. Come on.”

“But—I’m not grounded anymore,” Cheese protested. “I don’t have to be home for hours. I’ve got permission to be here.”

“Shh!”

They slipped up the stairs, which were narrow and winding. Once they must have been the stairs used by the servants. Now that the building was the Cakes’ bakery, coffeehouse, and home, the back stairway served as private access for the residents and their guests. The smells of freshly baked goods and coffee wafted past them. They paused for a moment next to the door leading to the Cakes’ own home: their living room and kitchen, and their bedrooms and the twins’ nursery, a floor above that. Finally, they reached the very top of the staircase: the entrance to Pinkie Pie’s garret bedroom. Fluttershy knocked at the door.

“Pinkie Pie? It’s Fluttershy. Can I come in? And I brought a friend.”

“Sure!” a high pitched little voice chirped, and Cheese dropped his face into his hands. “Come on in!”

Fluttershy pushed open the door. Pinkie sat crosslegged at the head of her bed and waved.

“Hiya, Fluttershutter! I am super excited to have you come and—CHEESIE! I just knew you would come!” she squealed, and launched herself off the bed. She flung her arms around his neck so tightly that he almost choked before he could grab her. Her feet, clad in puffy alligator-shaped slippers, waved almost a foot from the floor.

“Whoa!” he said, brilliantly red in the face, as he placed her down. “Aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

“I, um, thought you were supposed to stay in bed,” murmured Fluttershy.

“Pssht,” retorted Pinkie, leaping back onto the bed. “I’m fine. I don’t remember much about the accident, but that’s supposed to be normal. Just waiting to see the doctor tomorrow so he can officially tell me I can go back to school and not a second too soon, because I am so bored!” She crossed her legs and bounced back to where she’d been seated at the head of the bed in one spring. “C’mon! Have some seats!”

Fluttershy and Cheese seated themselves. Fluttershy perched on a puffy round polka-dotted ottoman with a short back and tried not to slip backwards. Cheese folded himself onto a straight-backed chair at Pinkie’s desk.

The room was a nearly perfect circle, with windows that ran right around it. The curtains were drawn to shut out the spring sunshine and keep the room darkened, but some light filtered in through the skylight. “Pull the curtains,” begged Pinkie Pie. “It’s so dark, and I don’t need it dark anymore. I want to see you guys.”

Cheese leaned over and pulled the curtain cords. The afternoon sunlight slanted in, and revealed a room with a large wardrobe that bulged with fluffy skirts, balloons, and streamers. Sample invitations and programs from every event Pinkie had organized or party she had thrown were pinned up around the walls—and there were a lot of them. On the nightstand stood a picture of Pinkie’s family: a stern looking bearded man, his wife, and his four daughters; more photographs of them were hung up around the walls. Pinkie Pie herself sat ensconced at the head of the bed, clad in light blue pajamas with yellow buttons.

“Wow,” stammered Cheese. “You look good, Pinks. I mean, you look better than I thought you would. Um, well—I’m just happy to see you.”

“And boy, am I glad to see you!” said Pinkie, bouncing up and down on the bed. “I missed you a lot. I thought I’d scream from the boredom those first few days. I was gonna go loco in the coco! I was so glad you kept calling me, ‘cause I was bored, bored, bored.”

Cheese looked at her incredulously. “What calls? I didn’t call you.”

Pinkie’s lower lip stuck out and her forehead contracted with confusion. “Well—sure you did,” she said, sounding almost hurt. “You called, like, several times a day at first, just asking how I was. And you kept saying everything was fine, but I could tell it wasn’t fine at all, Cheesie, but I figured I’d just make you tell me all about it later. And I think you should stop playing ‘Beer Barrel’ so much, ‘cause it’s driving your Aunt Mela crazy.”

Cheese frowned. “But—but I didn’t even have a—oh!” he said, and grinned, leaning back and crossing one long leg over the other. “Well, hey,” he added modestly, “it was nothing. Glad I could help. I’m still glad to see you’re ok. So you think the doctor’s going to let you come back soon?”

“Absotootley-lootley!” Pinkie replied.

“Um,” murmured Fluttershy, “I, um, think I’m going to go and get a vanilla latte now. I’ll be back—later—sooner or later.” She slipped out of the room.

It took her a while to get that vanilla latte. Strictly speaking, it took a lot longer than it actually needed to. In fact, it took longer than it actually took. Finally, she made her way up the stairs again and tapped on the door. She opened it, and Pinkie and Cheese were chatting away. If either of them had noticed she’d been gone, they didn’t mention it. She sipped her latte for a few minutes, and then coughed unconvincingly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I think my latte went down the wrong way.”

“Oh, Stilton,” said Cheese, glancing at his watch. “Is that the time? I have to be home at six.”

“Aw,” said Pinkie, and pouted. “Well, I hope I’ll be back on Wednesday, so not too long now, right? Then we’ll really have to get cracking on the Cake Festival, ‘cause we don’t have much time left.”

“Yes, Boss,” he said, smiling.

“I like it when you call me Boss,” she said, smiling back.

“I know. Well, goodnight, Pinkie.”

“Goodnight!”

“Thanks for taking me to see Pinkie,” said Cheese. “I’m much less worried about her now, and it was nice to catch up with her.”

Fluttershy was taking the scenic route through Luna Park. The cherry trees were still in bloom, and it gave them some extra time to talk. “So what did you and Pinkie talk about?” she asked. “Only if you don’t mind telling me,” she added. “I don’t mean to be nosy.”

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” he said airily. “Some small talk, shop talk—she talked a lot about her family. Did you know one of her sisters is getting a doctorate in geology? Pinkie calls it her rockterate.”

“Did you tell her anything about being suspended? Or being grounded?”

“Well, no,” he admitted, “but only because I didn’t want her to worry about it. Besides, I’m not grounded anymore. I’ll tell her when she gets the ok from her doctor to go back to school. I did mention something about the bipolar disorder,” he added hesitantly. “I thought that even though she said she didn’t remember anything, she might remember that bit. I’m glad I told her, though.”

“I don’t look down on Pinkie about it,” said Fluttershy, “and I’m not going to look down on you. I don’t think any of us will.”

He smiled. “Good. That’s nice to know.”

They were driving through a wooded section of the park, with hardly any cars around. The windows were rolled down, letting in the scent of cherry blossom and getting rid of the cat smell. Cheese looked out the side window, but his eyes weren’t focused on the spring foliage at all.
“Did you know Pinkie when she was a little girl? Have you seen pictures?”

Fluttershy shook her head. “No,” she said. “I didn’t move from Cloudsdale until freshman year. And I don’t think Pinkie moved here until junior high.”

“She was SO. CUTE,” he enthused, hands to his cheeks. “You have no idea. I couldn’t believe it when I saw her again. I still can’t.”

“Um,” said Fluttershy, “I’m surprised you didn’t tell her you’d met her before.”

Cheese snorted. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, Pinkie, I’m Cheese Sandwich! You don’t remember me at all, but I’ve been in love with you since I was eight years old!’”

Fluttershy slammed on the brakes, and Cheese slid forward in the seat. He winced. “I said that in my out loud voice, didn’t I?”

“Is that true?” said Fluttershy.

“More or less,” Cheese replied, hedging. “Rather more than less. In fact, rather more than more.”

“Oh, Cheese,” Fluttershy said sorrowfully. “I didn’t know.”

“Good,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to know. In fact, I’d like you to forget it.”

“But why?”

“Why? Because it’s crazy!” he said, throwing up his hands. “People don’t fall in love with someone they met only once as a kid. Maybe once upon a time they did, but not anymore. It sounds crazy even to me, which is always a real possibility where I’m concerned. And yet . . . and yet . . . it just is. It’s not her fault that she’s perfect, or that her voice sounds like the treble in a faultlessly rung change of bells. I know it’s beyond belief that I love just sitting next to her and inhaling because the very scent of her is so incredibly sweet, and that the only thing I don’t like about her hugs is that they end. All I know, beyond question or doubt or reason itself, is that I love Pinkie.” He furrowed his brows. “Does that sound a little intense to you?”

“Um . . .” said Fluttershy. “Kinda, yeah.”

“See?” he said. “I can’t even begin to talk about how I feel about her without feeling like an idiot.”

“Just a suggestion,” said Fluttershy tentatively, “maybe you might like to tell her? I mean, some of it. Toned way down.”

He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. She’s already given me nearly everything that’s made my life happy. She’s my friend, which was beyond anything I could ever have imagined. People stop being friends over things like this.”

“Pinkie wouldn’t,” Fluttershy insisted. “I know she wouldn’t.”

“Maybe she wouldn’t,” Cheese conceded, “but then maybe she’d think she has to love me, just because I’m her friend and because I love her so much. I don’t want that. I don’t want her even to try. And after that accident—she’s much too grateful about that, and she shouldn’t be. Any of you would have done the same thing. Pinkie doesn’t owe me anything, and I don’t want her to think she does. And I still don’t know what’s going to happen to me with that suspension. The best you could say is that the timing is all wrong.”

They rolled to a stop, right in front of Cheese’s aunt’s house. “I’m starting to worry about you again,” said Fluttershy.

“Nah, don’t,” he replied, unbuckling the seat buckle. “I’m used to keeping things to myself, and I was just un-grounded. Things are looking up.” He went around to the rear of the station wagon, removed his backpack, and came back around to the front of the car and waved. Fluttershy had just started the car when he stuck his head in the passenger’s side window.

“Fluttershy? The thing about me being in love with Pinkie? That’s a secret. And you’re going to keep it. Forever.”

He pulled his head out of the window and began to walk up the path to the house. Fluttershy was about to drive away when he spun around, eyes narrowed. “Foreverrrrr,” he said, glaring at her, then turned and walked the rest of the way towards the house.

Author's Note

Here we are, at the turning point and going over the ridgeline of the fic. I’ve been planning this chapter for months.

I’m sure you’ve started writing something and later realized where you drew your inspiration. This chapter, its title, and the fic as a whole were heavily influenced by two amazing films: Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and Harold and Maude. In fact, the influence is so deep that it took me ages to recognize it! Cheese’s explanation that he can only do some things when they’re funny and that laughter is a powerful weapon come straight out of Roger Rabbit, and I’m awfully glad I Googled the phrase “I can only do it when it’s funny” so I could give credit where credit is due. Since Roger Rabbit itself is an homage to Warner Brothers, Tex Avery, Chuck Jones, and, to a lesser extent, Disney, and since Pinkie Pinkie herself is a tiny tribute to Chuck Jones in pony form, I thought it made perfect sense for my fic to pay tribute to it—and it has further implications, too.

As for Harold and Maude: some of you may not know this film, and some of you may have heard of it as “that movie where the twenty year old guy falls in love with the eighty year old woman, eeewww,” but that isn’t what it’s like at all. It’s a brilliant, dark, bittersweet comedy, and there’s a reason people love it so much, although you might want to prepare yourself for some shocks if you’re going to watch it. EG Cheese’s mother, not to be confused with Pony Cheese’s mother, is very much like Harold Chasen’s. In fact, Cheese might well have turned out like Harold, with his love of pranks and tinkering with motor vehicles, if he hadn’t had the fortune to learn how to play a musical instrument when he was younger, and met his Maude much earlier in life. In case you were wondering, Maude is not remotely like Maud Pie. She is much, much more like Pinkie.

One of my touchstones for Cheese in general, and particularly his rhapsodic description of Pinkie, is Matt’s monologue from The Fantasticks, beginning with “There is this girl.”

I’ll be moving to get this done before the Rainbow Rocks premiere, but for today, I may take a break, and re-watch two stunning, absolutely classic movies.

Vice Principals, Virtual Portals

The lines outside Vice Principal Luna’s office were always long on Tuesdays. Tuesday is the day when Monday’s chickens come home to roost. Every tardiness, unexcused absence, and cut class accrued on Monday must be dealt with on Tuesday. Imaginative excuses must be listened to with varying degrees of patience. Detentions must be assigned and notes sent home to parents. Vice Principal Luna faced this every Tuesday morning, and always rose to the occasion, especially considering that she was not a morning person.

This morning’s quota included students who had been caught committing the usual disciplinary infractions, plus one or two slightly more complicated cases. Those would have to wait until after the simple ones. And that is how Cheese Sandwich and Rainbow Dash found themselves standing next to each other early on Tuesday morning, a situation that only became more awkward as the line in front of them shortened and the silence between them reached deafening levels. Finally, when the last student in front of them had disappeared into Vice Principal Luna’s office, Rainbow Dash coughed and spoke first.

“So, uh . . . Fluttershy called me last night. She said she’d talked to you and you both went to see Pinkie.” Cheese didn’t say anything, but simply raised his eyebrows. She continued, “And she said a lot of things about kicking somebody when he’s down and if I thought you’d just let Pinkie get hurt without trying to do something about it, I was crazy. She was sort of steamed. So, um . . . I was wrong about that.”

Cheese shook his head. “I still can’t believe you’d think that about me.”

Rainbow Dash shrugged. “I couldn’t believe Pinkie got hurt. And I thought someone should have done something to stop it. I would have, if I’d been there. But that’s just it—I should have been there, and I wasn’t. So it’s my fault, really. Sometimes I really suck as a friend.”

“I don’t think you’ve been that bad a friend to Pinkie,” said Cheese, staring up at the ceiling and avoiding Dash’s eye.

“Not Pinkie’s friend!” Rainbow Dash snorted. “Yours, doofus! I said you count with me, didn’t I?”

Cheese turned his head towards her and blinked. “I don’t remember that.”

“No, because you were staring at that stupid rubber chicken or something!” Dash said, backing up and looking Cheese in the eye. Her cheeks were twitching. She’d slipped one hand into the pocket of her tracksuit jacket, and she grabbed the fabric in her fist and twisted the fist around as she spoke. “I don’t say a lot of mushy friendship stuff, Cheese, so if you missed it, you missed it. And I just admitted I was wrong about something, which never happens, either, so don’t blame me if you don’t know ‘I’m sorry’ when you hear it.”

Vice Principal Luna opened her door. “Miss Dash? Come in.”

Rainbow Dash picked up her backpack. As she straightened up again, she shook herself and slipped back into her ordinary casual stance. “So, yeah. What I said. ‘K?” And she slipped into Vice Principal Luna’s office without further comment.

Cheese stood in the hall in silence for some time, absently-mindedly twiddling the fingers on his right hand, practicing arpeggios. He unconsciously rolled his left shoulder inward, as though he were manipulating a bellows. Vice Principal Luna opened the door and Rainbow Dash strolled out, head thrown back, almost swaggering. As Cheese followed the vice principal into her office, she raised her hand as though she were waving or trying to catch Cheese’s attention, but quickly turned this gesture into ruffling her hair, turned her back, and strolled slowly away.

“I’ve had a chance to review your situation with my sister, Mr. Sandwich. Sit.”

Cheese sat in the one small chair in the vice principal’s office. Since it was intentionally somewhat short, he was forced to fold himself up and sit with his knees sticking up. It also failed in its purpose, which was to lower the visitor’s head below Vice Principal Luna’s. Two file folders sat on her desk: one small one, and the large phone book sized one that contained all of Cheese’s records.

The blinds were, as usual, drawn. The office looked much as it had before, except that all the trophies had been recently burnished. The vase of lilies still sat beneath the picture of the full moon, but one of the flowers emitted a jet of water. The moon briefly displayed an advertising logo reading “Taste The Moon!” It disappeared when the vice principal turned her head sharply and glared at it.

She picked up the smaller of the two files and opened it. From it issued the sound of a long and disrespectful raspberry. Her eyebrows contracted for a moment, but she gave no other sign that she had noticed. “After consulting with the school psychologist and referring the medical details to the psychiatrist employed by the school district, we determined that this is not a case for psychiatric intervention. As I suggested in our earlier discussion, this is a disciplinary issue, not a medical one.”

It was almost impossible to relax in Cheese’s current posture, but he managed it anyway. She turned a few pages and continued, “We have also reviewed the matters concerning trespassing, damage to school property, and actions resulting in the injury of a fellow student. Miss Applejack took some pictures at the accident scene, forwarded to me by Miss Fluttershy, and her eyewitness testimony suggests that you were not responsible for the accident. I’ve sent the pictures to the inspectors investigating the incident. As you can imagine, we’re very concerned about the structural damage to the building, which is why the gym has been put off limits until it’s been declared safe.”

“Miss Fluttershy’s vehement insistence on acting as a character witness and Miss Dash’s somewhat exaggerated self accusations would not in themselves clear you of suspicion. The surveillance camera footage, however, does. It’s an ongoing investigation, so I’m sure you understand why I can’t discuss it further. You have some very loyal friends.”

Cheese blinked, but said nothing. The vice principal continued, “There remains the matter of trespassing after school hours. That is very serious, but I’m willing to consider the week you spent in on-site suspension as sufficient punishment. A longer suspension would require asking the superintendent’s order. We do not intend to seek that. Your suspension is lifted.”

She closed the small folder, drew Cheese’s file closer, and opened it. “As my sister and I discussed the appropriate measures to take in your case, we took the opportunity to review your file in some detail. And I have many questions for you.”

Cheese gulped and said, “ok.”

The vice principal removed some transcripts. “Your grade point averages are appalling.” She held up a transcript. “You managed to flunk algebra not once, but twice. Somehow, during your freshman year, you managed to miss so many school days that it added up to a month. Not sick days, not excused absences, and not hospitalizations—you simply disappeared. How you managed this at boarding school, I have no idea.” She dropped the first transcript and picked up a second. “Your math teacher at another school asked you to “do something constructive in class for a change,” and you spent it ignoring him while you read an elaborately illustrated book about escapology.”

“Well,” Cheese said, shrugging and giving her a weak grin, “it was constructive, wasn’t it? It was research about something I needed to know, so . . .” His voice trailed off as Vice Principal Luna fixed him with a glare.

“Your transcripts, in short, indicate serious academic defects. Your test scores, on the other hand,” she said, holding up another document, “beg to differ. Can you explain this?”

“Gum,” Cheese said. The vice principal raised her eyebrows in surprise. “When I was a kid, the teachers rewarded us with bubblegum when we took standardized tests. I like bubblegum, so when other students are getting test anxiety, I just think of bubblegum.”

“Hm,” she said. “That would account for some of the discrepancy, but not very much of it. And here’s another odd thing. Your friends tell me that you’re musically gifted. I corroborated this with a number of students and faculty members. Even your homeroom teacher, Mr. Doodle, conceded that you played the harmonica very nicely before he begged you to stop. And as they volunteered information, a certain picture emerged, indicating that you were humorous, entertaining, and very good at organizing social events, even though there’s no official record of you participating in any of these activities and even though they’ve been forbidden to you. I looked through your previous school records under extracurricular activities, and nothing like this was recorded. I finally found it in your hospital records. The staff at Baldwin Memorial recorded some of your activity in these areas as positive accomplishments. I thought I must have overlooked something, and I found notes about these abilities at every institution you’re attended—under discipline. And these are the very activities we have been particularly asked to prevent you from engaging in. What, as the slang phrase will have it, is up with that?”

Cheese writhed in his chair and shifted his gaze from side to side before replying, “I don’t know.”

“Well, I would like to know,” the vice principal snorted, so violently that the puff of air was almost visible. “I don’t care for it when MY students—that is, the students of CHS,” she corrected herself quickly, “are prohibited from exercising their special talents. I don’t care for it at all.”

She leaned forward across the desk, gazing at him through narrowed eyes. “From this point on,” she said, “I expect you to participate fully in the life of the school. Your engagement with the community will be up to your aunt to decide, but I think a friendly but persuasive chat with her may be in order. Of course, newly written instructions from your mother would have to be taken into account.”

“Oh, but . . . my parents are somewhere out near Saddle Arabia,” Cheese blurted. “It would take a few weeks to get a letter from there.”

“Would it,” the vice principal said blandly. It wasn’t a question. “In the meantime, you are to consider yourself permitted to put your abilities to good use, regardless of any commitments to the contrary. You follow me?”

Cheese smiled slowly. “I think so.”

“In return,” she went on, “all of this nonsense will cease.” She waved at the moon picture, the lilies, and the file folders.

Cheese had his gaze firmly fixed on the ceiling. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She sighed and rose from her seat. “That will be all. You are dismissed.” Cheese got up, and she handed him a hall pass. When he was halfway to the door, she said, “Mr. Sandwich, you are a chronic and incorrigible underachiever.”

Cheese hung his head. “I know.”

“That is why it is counterproductive to suspend your involvement in extracurricular activities.” Her mouth quirked. “Heaven help us if you were to become really bored.”

Cheese stood outside the office for a moment, blinking and shaking his head, and then he took a deep breath. Throughout the school, and without his knowledge, dozens of untold jokes and unplayed pranks deactivated themselves. Quiet settled on CHS. He took another deep breath, began to walk down the hall—and was almost immediately tackled by Rainbow Dash.

“So guess who’s Captain of the Wondercolts again?” Dash exulted, throwing back her shoulders as Cheese tried to recover the wind she’d knocked out of him. “THE one and only. I don’t have the keys back, but meh—I was always worried about them all the time anyway. Soarin won the match, which I never would have thought he’d do, and that keeps us in the playoffs. Vice Principal Luna said she thought I’d learned my lesson now about how everyone is replaceable, so I could play again and even be Captain again, which is so awesome. And then she told me to kill ‘em in that final match, and I totally will. How’d it go in there?”

“Not too bad,” he said. “Actually kind of good. I’m unsuspended, and it sounds as though maybe she’s going to bat for me. Of course, that’s only until my mother puts a stop to it, but still.” They began to walk down the hall in the direction of the gym, Rainbow Dash making little boxing jabs as she jogged along. “She even said something—well, I think I can play in public again. I promised my mother not to, but she sort of undid it somehow.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it? How does she even know about something like that?”

Rainbow Dash shrugged. “I dunno, but somehow she knows. It’s like she can see inside your head.” She stopped and looked at him. “So, uh, everything’s kind of back to normal, so . . . are we cool?” she said, making a few more tentative jabs in his direction. “Because I hope we’re cool.”

“Hmm,” Cheese replied, chewing on the side of his lip and looking up at the ceiling. “What if I made a joke and you laughed, and you thought we were cool, only really we weren’t, and I didn’t talk to you anymore and avoided you as much as possible?”

“Pinkie would stage a tickle intervention,” Rainbow Dash responded promptly. “Believe me, you don’t want to be on the business end of one of those. My ribs hurt for hours, just because AJ had to be so stubborn. Besides, you wouldn’t do something like that. Would you?”

“Actually, it’s exactly the kind of thing I would do,” he admitted. “I’ve done stuff like that before. But you did try to break me out yesterday, and you sort of apologized just now, so I guess we’re cool.”

“Good,” said Dash, resuming their walk to class, “ because Fluttershy likes you, and of course I’m her BFF, and she’d be sad about it and she might even cry. We all hate it when Fluttershy cries. I can’t take it at all. It’s the worst. Drives me up the wall.”

“Drove me right through one,” agreed Cheese, adding, “long story. Never mind,” at Dash’s puzzled look.

“Yeah, Applejack and Fluttershy and Rarity and Pinkie and me—we’ve been besties since the Freshman Fair. If you’re friends with one of us, you’re friends with all of us. And no one messes with my friends. If you’re cool with me, then yeah, you count.”

“So what do you do when one of your friends messes with one of your other friends?”

Dash sighed. “See, this is where it gets complicated, and I’m not too good with that. All I heard was ‘Pinkie’s hurt,’ and I thought, ‘What? Stuff like that doesn’t happen to Pinkie.’ I don’t think anyone even notices the way she pops straight down from the ceiling or bounces off the walls anymore, but I do. It felt wrong. It smelled wrong. Applejack said it was an accident, or maybe Pinkie messed up, but I’m not buying it. Anyway, the idea of Pinkie getting hurt and being taken away to the hospital . . .” She grabbed his arm. “Do you understand what I’m talking about? I just saw red.”

They exchanged a long, silent look, and finally he nodded. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I think I do. You know, I don’t think I was even really mad about it until just now.”

“And I couldn’t understand why she got hurt and you didn’t because . . .” she scowled as she tried to put her thoughts together. Then her eyes widened and her mouth popped open. “Because you do all that stuff too. You’re just like Pinkie.”

“Well,” Cheese said, “not exactly like Pinkie.”

“Wow,” said Rainbow Dash, shaking her head, “this is weird. Anyhow, me and the rest of the girls—we’re a package deal. The last time we let something split us apart and quit talking to each other, a she-demon tried to take over the universe and everyone in the school was turned into killer zombies. Except for us, of course.”

“See,” Cheese pointed out, “some people might call that weird. Not me, but a lot of people would.”

“I want to talk about this at lunch,” Dash decided. “I want to put all of the weird right out on the table. And besides, when I was talking to Fluttershy last night, she told me a bunch of things about you, and I want to know about those, too.”

Cheese froze. “What things?” he asked. “The bit about my being a lunatic, or the bit about my being a side-show freak, or—”

Dash guffawed. “You sound like Rarity!” she wheezed. “CHS can only handle one drama queen at a time, and she’s got that job covered. Besides,” she added, sobering up, “you’re describing one of my best friends. A couple of ‘em, in fact. No, dorkasaurus,” she continued, as they resumed their walk, “she was telling me about the sweet save you made off that ladder! Totally something I would have done.”

As they reached the end of the hall and rounded the corner, she added, “ I would have done it faster and better, but still, that was pretty good.”

“So,” Rainbow Dash announced, plopping down in her chair at lunch, “big news, ladies, I’m back on the soccer team. Soarin?” she yelled across the cafeteria. Five tables away, the blue-haired goalie straightened up. “I own you again, got me? Practice, this afternoon, small field.”

“Oh, good,” said Applejack. “So, life as we know it can go on.”

“Yep,” Dash agreed, stretching her arms above her head. “And look who I brought with me.”

Cheese popped from behind a pillar, carrying a tray, which was, as usual, heaped high with food. He slid into his usual seat next to Rainbow Dash.

“Now all we need is Pinkie,” said Fluttershy. “I’m so glad to see both of you.”

“Uh—good to see you’re looking well, Cheese,” said Applejack.

“Yes, welcome,” agreed Rarity.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Wow. Just tone down your enthusiasm, ok? Look—there’s a lot of stuff I wanted to know from Cheese and I did it the super-hard way. I just asked him. Duh. And I mentioned our she-demon and killer zombies from last fall.”

“Do you think that was wise?” gasped Rarity.

“Yeah,” replied Dash. “I do.” She put her feet up on the table, to Rarity’s evident dismay, picked up an apple, and crunched into it.

“I think Rainbow’s very smart,” agreed Fluttershy, and Dash beamed. “There are all kinds of very strange things going on . . .”

“Especially Pinkie’s accident. And it could get worse,” Rainbow Dash pointed out.

Cheese swallowed what he was eating. “Vice Principal Luna told me there’s an investigation into the gym incident.”

“All of us know a little bit,” pleaded Fluttershy, “but if we share what we know—I just think maybe everything is all connected. And even if it isn’t, isn’t everything always better when we trust each other and work together? Maybe it’s time for us to trust Cheese and for him to trust us.”

“Um,” said Cheese. “Um—well, there’s some things . . . they’re sort of personal. Do we have to get into those?”

“You mean comparing body tattoos? ‘Cause I’ve got a totally radical lightning bolt right over here,” said Dash, indicating a bit of herself not currently on view. Milk came out of Cheese’s nose, and Fluttershy giggled. “Beat that, Accordion Boy. No, you guys know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about weird stuff.”

Applejack sighed. “Well, all right,” she said. “Truth to tell, I felt pretty uncomfortable having to hang on to a bunch of secrets. But y’know, this story isn’t all ours to tell, and I’m not sure I could, so . . . ”

“The library? Seriously?” said Rainbow Dash. “Aw, man.”

“Sunset?” Applejack called. “We got some things to talk to you about.”

The library was much more heavily occupied than it generally was, filled with students preparing for finals. “Just looking at them makes me feel guilty,” murmured Fluttershy. There was no response from the upper floor, however.

They crossed the library to the stairs. “Sunset?” called Applejack.

“Pssst! Demon Queen! You up there?” yelled Rainbow Dash, and every head in the library snapped in her direction.

“YES.” Sunset’s voice came from the upper floor, far in the back. “NOT TACTFUL.”

“Rainbow Dash!” exclaimed Rarity. “That is not the way to address someone from whom you are hoping to extract a favor!”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Dash, rolling her eyes.

They walked slowly up the staircase. None of them were accustomed to visiting Sunset in her self-defined study, except for Cheese and, of course, Pinkie. It was hard not to think about the other time on which they’d made this trek, when Pinkie had been present and had offered to throw Sunset a friendship party, and it put the others into a more somber mood than usual.

They made their way past the dusty bookshelves to the table where Sunset kept her books and her mirrors. She was apparently hard at work. Many of the books were open. She had some dust smudges on her face, and her reddish hair was so disheveled that it made her head appear to be on fire. She sighed.

“Is this another test of our friendship?” She looked at Cheese. “I haven’t seen much of you or the pink one recently.”

“Yes, we’re fine, thanks for asking,” Cheese replied. “Hey, Pinkie got discharged from the
hospital almost right away and I only spent a week in lockdown, so we really have nothing to complain about.”

Sunset paused with her hand halfway raised to turn a page. “I knew that,” she murmured. “No, I did,” she insisted. “But all of this drove it out of my mind. There are some very peculiar things going on.”

“And that’s why we require your expertise, darling,” said Rarity, sliding behind Sunset and taking care not to touch anything. “Some very odd things have been happening out here in the real world, too, especially to Pinkie and Cheese, but really to all of us. And we thought that you could . . . ah . . . explain matters to Cheese.”

“And why do I want to do that?”

“I dunno,” said Applejack, “maybe you might learn something? Or maybe just because it feels good to help other people, and it’s the right thing to do? Now you cut it out trying to be all mysterious about magic like Trixie, when we know you know the real thing.”

“I might learn something? About friendship?” Sunset scoffed. “I doubt it. I’m a terrible friendship student. Or magic? Are you seriously suggesting I could learn something . . .” Her eyes lit up, and she suddenly appeared very interested. “Something about magic. Their magic. That, I would very much like to know.”

Cheese had been watching this exchange, his eyes darting back and forth with increasing worry.

“Well, you’re not going to know diddly-squat unless you help us explain stuff to Cheese,” Applejack retorted, ‘because otherwise he won’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

Sunset sighed. “Very well.”

“Y’see, Cheese,” Applejack began awkwardly, scuffing her boot on the ground, “y’see . . .”

“Canterlot High is a reflection of an alternative universe populated entirely by magical ponies and you guys are some kind of uber-magical ponies with rainbow powers or something and Pinkie is somehow the most connected to that world and her pony has powers even Saruman here can’t explain and I’ve got a pony too and somehow my pony is connected to her pony or something like that?” Cheese suggested. Everyone stared, jaw dropped. Cheese shrugged. “It was just an educated guess!”

Sunset Shimmer blinked. When she’d regained her composure, she went on, “That is very roughly correct: very, very roughly. This world is indeed a reflection of the real wor—of Equestria. Hence the mirrors I study; I’m looking for reflections. Equestria has many reflections; many different universes, of which this is only one, and it has portals to each. In addition, CHS is a sort of vortex. It is dotted all over with portals of various sizes, like a honeycomb, or—or a cheese.”

“Swiss or Muenster?”

Sunset shot Cheese a glare that clearly said shut up. “Some of these portals are only large enough or permanent enough to permit me to borrow books from the Royal Library in Canterlot.” She shrugged. “I figured, how much more trouble can I get into in the Restricted Section? But they’re all too small or too temporary for me. I need one that can be stable, at least for me.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” said Rainbow Dash. “I thought you were trying to explain and maybe help, not go on some power trip!”

“Please don’t go on a power trip, Sunset Shimmer,” murmured Fluttershy.

“I’m not,” she said testily. “I’m just explaining. I’m from Equestria, the original universe. I’m supposed to be a unicorn. Actually . . . actually, I am a unicorn. I’ve figured out the philosophical and thaumaturgical aspects,” she added, “but I’m not sure I’ve absorbed the dating ramifications.”

“AND she was the she-demon last year, too,” Rainbow Dash pointed out.

“Don’t remind me,” replied Sunset Shimmer, covering her eyes with her palm.

She explained Equestria’s relationship to CHS in some detail, and went on to describe the events of the Fall Formal. “Ever since the Element of Magic crossed the portal to Equestria twice, and one of the Element Bearers went through the portal and back, magic has been leaking through. The portals are weakening. I don’t know what that means. I do know it could be dangerous. Any questions?” she added.

Rainbow Dash was feigning sleep, while Fluttershy looked at Sunset anxiously and Rarity pulled out her compact. “Be careful with that!” snapped Sunset. “Even a small mirror is dangerous.”

“Well, then,” sniffed Rarity, “I shall have to use my camera, though it’s not at all the same thing.”

“Yes,” said Cheese. “I do have a question. Why me? What possible interest can you have in me or in Pinkie? I mean, Pinkie I understand, because she’s like them, and because she’s Pinkie, but I’m just me.”

“Ah,” said Sunset Shimmer. “Pinkie’s original carries a variety of magic I’m very anxious to understand. And you know quite well what I’m talking about. The way she alters the moods of other people, sometimes on a large scale, and attracts them like a magnet. The balloons from nowhere. The confetti. The physical pliability. The reality warping. The sheer insane improbability of . . . ”

Cheese’s face went blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

“THAT!” she screamed. “That! Every time I get closer to understanding it, it slips away!”

“Uh, Sunset,” Applejack said, “you mind telling us what ‘it’ is?”

Sunset snorted. “Who knows?”

“Maybe it’s just a sense of humor,” Cheese suggested.

“It’s probably some stupid earth pony thing.” She looked around and registered their blank expressions. “That’s folk magic, to you. And no, I don’t know how it works.”

“Every reflection of Equestria isn’t exact, you understand,” she continued, pacing back and forth. “That would hardly be possible. Every being on each side of a mirror does not have an exactly corresponding copy. For example,” she said, stopping her pacing and turning to them, “I’m the only Sunset Shimmer I know of. These four,” she indicated Rarity, Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash, “and Pinkie do have corresponding beings, and they are, in your phrase, ‘some kind of uber-magical ponies over there with rainbow powers.’”

“In addition to that,” she went on, “Pinkie is very unusual. She has her own distinct type of magic, and she doesn’t quite fit in. It’s why she understands the real Equestria best of any of the five. I suppose the best way to put it is that she belongs equally well everywhere and nowhere. She is more like her many selves throughout the multiverse than each of those selves is to the universe she happens to inhabit. And you—for some reason I cannot explain, you are like her. You’re a reflection of a reflection. And you seem to have her magic, although I can't imagine how you acquired it. When she and you are together, the effects are greatly magnified. In any case,” she concluded, “you’re not special. You’re only special because she is.”

“You know,” said Cheese thoughtfully, “I would totally believe that.”

“I’ve virtually given up trying to comprehend her type of magic,” Sunset muttered.

Cheese nodded. “Good, because explaining the joke just kills it.”

“But I’m still interesting in exploring the connections. You see, there must be many alternative universes other than Equestria and this one, each with its own correspondences and each with its own Pinkie. There could be thousands of universes and thousands of Pinkies.”

“Thousands of Pinkies!” exclaimed Rarity. “Good heavens!”

Sunset turned to Cheese. “If you are like her, and she is more like herself than she is to the worlds her selves inhabit; if the multiverse is filled with reflections of Pinkie and your reflections of those reflections, that forms a connection that transcends worlds. And that means,” her eyes glinted, “that you are portals in and of yourselves.”

Applejack stared. “You mean all this time, you’ve been trying to use Pinkie and Cheese as some kind of door?”

Sunset pursed her lips. “It sounds so selfish when you put it that way. I’m academically interested in the theory.”

“Uh, no,” Rainbow Dash put in, proving she hadn’t been asleep after all, “you said you needed a stable portal. You’d better not be trying to get back into Equestria and cause trouble.”

“Darn tootin’,” agreed Applejack, “because magic or no magic, we can fix it so you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Um,” said Fluttershy, “don’t you need to fill out some kind of form for human subjects? Any kind of subjects, really, but especially human ones?”

“Oh, relax,” huffed Sunset. “You’d think I intended something dreadful, when all I want is to—”

Something chirped in Cheese’s back pocket. “Hold that thought,” he said. He took out his phone and looked at the screen. “Pinkie’s seen the doctor . . . and . . . and she’s in great shape! She’s cleared to come back to school! This is awesome!” he said, turning to the rest of them. “She’s . . .” His face went slack for a moment, and he dropped the phone. “She says she’s walking in the door right now.”

He raced to the end of the second floor corridor and leaned over the banister. “Hey, guess what, you guys?” he shouted. “She’s back! Pinkie’s back!” He exploded into the air with a blast of party horns and in a burst of confetti, jumping over the banister; he hung there for a moment, and landed straight down on the main floor of the library.

“PINKIE!!” yelled all the students who had been hunched over notes or crouching over computer screens. They jumped to their feet, abandoned their studies, and stampeded out the library doors.

“That,” said Sunset Shimmer. “That’s the sort of thing I mean.”

Author's Note

And it’s a race against time, as I try to get this finished before the premiere of Rainbow Rocks! Two more chapters, I think, and an epilogue. The number of chapters keep increasing as I cut things down, but I thought this was a nice little ending point.

OK, I admit it. I gave Cheese my academic record. Some of it, anyhow, but the two math flunks, the reading in class, the thirty days of truancy and the bubblegum are all me and all true.

Some of the ideas here have been extended from the Reflections Arc of the comic books series, and some of it comes from kibitzing a whole lot with people like FanOfMostEverything and Jordan179.

The world of Equestria Girls and the Mirrorverse aren’t the only alternative universes in the MLP-verse. There’s also Aquastria, the underwater world, although perhaps it doesn’t count, since Twilight Sparkle visits it in person, and there’s also the world of the Power Ponies. I call these the Canon AUs, even though that’s a paradox, and there’s a group for it
here. Right now, it’s mostly serving as a library for fics set in any of these universes, but there’s no reason not to join us over there and begin discussing the theory, too.

"Taste The Moon" was an advertising logo for a fake advertising campaign for a non-existent product called "Mooncheez." Their supposed object was to project the logo onto the surface of the moon. It was a practical joke, but NASA heard about it,took it seriously, and became very concerned. You can see the fake documentary here.

That's it for now. Expect another chapter relatively soon.

The Fun Has Been Doubled

“Disgusting,” growled Rainbow Dash for the fifth time, glaring at an indecently happy looking Pinkie and Cheese, who were seated together at the opposite side of Sugarcube’s. She poked at her smoothie and muttered something inaudible.

“Oh, Rainbow,” murmured Fluttershy. “Please stop saying that. That’s not a very nice—”

“Hi!” Pinkie chirped from directly behind Dash, blowing a roll-up noisemaker.

Fluttershy gasped, and Dash sucked up a gigantic gulp of smoothie and coughed a lot of it back up through her mouth and her nose. “Gah! Don’t DO that!” she spluttered. “You were just . . .I saw you . . . you were over there!”

“Yes indeedily!” Pinkie squeaked in agreement.

“I KNOW! I surprise myself like that, too!” said Cheese, popping up next to Pinkie. He placed a fez on his head at a jaunty angle and leaned on the back of Fluttershy and Dash’s booth.

“See, you looked unhappy about something,” explained Pinkie.

“And we thought we should make you smile,” Cheese went on.

“So here we are!” Pinkie finished, jumping into the booth over Dash, so she could sit next to her. “And we want to know what’s so disgusting.”

“I’m no expert,” said Cheese, as he slid in next to Fluttershy, “but some people would say making stuff come out your nose is pretty disgusting. Not me, of course,” he added, as Rainbow Dash shot him a glare that would strip paint.

“Oh,” said Fluttershy, “Rainbow didn’t say anything about . . .”

“Yes, I did,” snarled Dash, wiping the last of the smoothie splatter from her t-shirt. “I said it’s disgusting that the rest of us have to take exams next week and you guys don’t.”

“Who, me?” said Cheese, slapping his hand to his chest in shock. He turned, spreading his arms wide, as though calling on everyone in Sugarcube’s to act as a character witness. “I took my exams while I was suspended.” Pinkie’s head swiveled around. She frowned slightly. “It’s not my fault I finished early. I missed a week of studying time, too.”

“How were they?” asked Fluttershy.

“Brutal,” he replied, and Rainbow Dash groaned. “I’m not just saying that, either. They were tough. I didn’t know they’d ask about all those things I haven’t studied in years. All I could do was think calming thoughts about gumballs and try my best.”

“And I’m taking my exams, Dashie,” Pinkie said, squeezing her around the shoulders. “I missed a week and a half of school, and Principal Celestia said I shouldn’t take a whole week of exams with a head injury, though I feel totally fine, but I’ll take them later in the summer.”

“Oh, dear,” lamented Fluttershy, her hair sliding down into her eyes as she clapped her hands to her cheeks. “I just know I haven’t studied enough.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” said Cheese. “Thanks for getting my phone yesterday, by the way. I was a little distracted at the time.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, “but I don’t think so. There’s been so much going on, and . . .”

“Because you’ve been working so hard to help with the Cake Festival,” said Pinkie, “because Cheesie and I couldn’t do it, and you’re the bestest friend ever, and so is Dashie, and Applejack, and Rarity, and we just know you’re going to do super-fantastic on the exams!”

“Oh . . . it was nothing,” she said, blushing.

“I totally saved the day,” Dash agreed, grinning, her good humor restored. “Well, we did, I guess. But now the Wondercolts are in the playoffs and the Comets play their final game against the Cyclones on Saturday, and we’ve got tons of practices scheduled, so how am I supposed to study, too? Meh,” she shrugged. “I’ll manage. You’ll quiz me on stuff, won’t you?” she said, turning to Fluttershy, who nodded. “I still don’t think it’s fair, though, that we have to take exams while you two just goof around with the Cake Festival.”

Pinkie Pie frowned. “The Cake Festival is serious.”

“And it’s not goofing around,” Cheese added, lifting an eyebrow. “It’s called ‘community service learning.’ ”

“Oh, yeah?” retorted Rainbow Dash. “How do you get graded on that, anyway?”

Cheese took off the fez and scratched his curly head. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I think Vice Principal Luna comes to the Cake Festival, and if she has a good time, we pass.”

“And she’s gonna have a great time,” enthused Pinkie, “because Cheesie and I have thought of everything! There’s all the stuff we were planning, and all the great ideas you guys had, too . . .”

“Although I don’t think we’re going to be putting rainbows and lightning bolts on everything . . .” Cheese conceded.

“And we had to cut a lot of the sad looking killer whales, Fluttershy, so we’ve only got one near your table. Because the sad killer whales were too sad, and we want people to smile at the Cake Festival. Oh, that reminds me!” exclaimed Pinkie. “I wasn’t supposed to be downstairs in the kitchen last week, but I snuck down anyway and messed around with some things and now I’ve got some new cupcakes for you to try! If they don’t make you smile, well. . . they will make you smile! Back in a sec!”

She jumped straight over Rainbow Dash and scurried away to the kitchen.

Fluttershy smiled. “I’m so glad Pinkie is better and back again. It wasn’t the same without her.”

“Me too,” agreed Dash. “I’m not going to forget about it anytime soon, though, especially not with the gym roped off. It’s tough to schedule practices, and it’s just plain freaky to see all that busted metal in the ceiling. What if we’d been practicing down there? That could have happened to anyone.”

“A lot of people could have been hurt,” Cheese agreed. “Either it was metal fatigue, or someone went up into the ceiling and did some damage deliberately. And I’m pretty sure it was the second.”

“Why?” said Fluttershy.

“Well, Vice Principal Luna said that there was surveillance footage that proved I didn’t do anything to the grid. And the only way that makes sense is if the recording shows someone else doing it.”

Rainbow Dash’s jaw dropped. She burst out, “And whoever it did it is still running around out there? What’s up with that?”

Cheese shrugged. “Can’t identify the person from the recording, I guess.”

Rainbow Dash snorted. “That’s ridiculous. How long can something like that take? Sheesh, it’s like letting someone get away with murder.”

“Someone almost did,” whispered Fluttershy. They all sat very still for a moment. Finally Fluttershy said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t stand thinking about it.”

“Neither can I,” admitted Cheese, and switched his hat from a fez to a collapsible top hat, which he began absent-mindedly popping open and closed.

“Me neither,” said Rainbow Dash. “Somebody did this and one of my best friends almost got killed. I just want to . . .” She clenched her fist. “And in a way, it’s probably a good thing I wasn’t there when it happened. I just would have been so . . . so mad. And even now, if I ever find out who did this . . .”

“Dashie?” said Fluttershy. “Deep breath?” She carefully put her hand on Rainbow Dash’s back, and the other girl finally relaxed.

“Yeah,” she said to Cheese, with a shaky grin. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

“Well, you’re in great company,” he said, sticking his hand out to Rainbow Dash. “Shake.” She did so, immediately got shocked by a joy buzzer, and howled with laughter as she massaged her hand. “I just have a different response to stress.”

Pinkie popped up with a tray of cupcakes and sodas. “Wow. What’s with the crankycakes, everybody? What happened here? I leave for five minutes and everyone’s all—” She lolled her tongue out of her mouth and rolled her eyes. “Gosh, nobody died. There are cupcakes! And sarsaparilla floats! With silly straws! Smile, Dashie! Here, have a float with a silly straw. The Cakes have them left over from something. And cupcakes, you guys. These are new ones,” she said proudly. “That one’s strawberry lemonade. And it’s super fantastic!” She sat down at the booth, but next to Cheese this time, so that Rainbow Dash was forced to slide over.

Cheese tried to articulate something through a mouthful of cupcake, swallowed, and agreed. “It really is.”

A man in a suit strolled up to the booth. “I’m sorry—I hate to bother you, but what are those? I’d like to try one.”

“Strawberry lemonade cupcakes,” Pinkie replied, “but we don’t make them here yet. Maybe someday.”

“Too bad,” said the man. “Excuse me.” He headed for the exit.

Pinkie frowned. “What’s with that? I mean, I’m glad people like my cupcakes, but still, that’s kinda nosy.”

“Cupcakes. That’s something else you’re doing while we’ll be taking exams,” said Rainbow Dash, but not too grumpily. It was really hard to be grumpy while eating Pinkie’s cupcakes.

“We still have to go to school,” said Pinkie. “We have to check in every morning.”

“As long as we’re doing something constructive,” said Cheese. “Cupcakes are constructive, aren’t they?”

“Well, duh,” said Pinkie. “Cupcakes are the most constructive-y things ever.”

Rainbow Dash looked at the tray. “Pick another for me,” she said to Pinkie. “Surprise me.”

“These are s’mores,” said Pinkie. “I wanted to have something new for the Comets game on Saturday.”

“Oh, I’m sure Scootaloo and the rest of the team will love these,” said Fluttershy, nibbling at her cupcake.

“Yeah. Truth is,” said Rainbow Dash, talking with her mouth full, “if I had to choose which game to win, I’d pick the Comets.”

Fluttershy stared at her over the top of her cupcake. “You don’t want the Wondercolts to win?”

“Oh, sure,” she said, waving her hand. “I’m the captain, for Pete’s sake. It’s just that winning would mean a lot to Scoots, and to First Base. Scoots had all those injuries last year, and First Base—well, he’s Flash Sentry’s brother. They’ve worked hard all season, and I blew their last game for them.”

“Well, don’t worry, Dashie, I’ll be out there cheering for the Comets GO COMETS!” she shrieked, as every head swiveled around in her direction. “And I’ll bring a box of cupcakes.”

“And I think—I think,” Cheese said, “I might be there, too.”

“Oo, really?” squeaked Pinkie.

“No way!” blurted Rainbow Dash. “Since when are you allowed to do stuff like that?”

“Since I got un-grounded,” he replied, grinning. A frown briefly flitted across Pinkie’s face again. “Aunt Mela is really tired of the sight of me around the house. As long as I make my curfew that evening, I’m probably good to go. It’ll end like that”—he snapped his fingers—“once my mother gets wind of it, but I might as well enjoy it while I can, right?”

“New cupcakes—both of you guys cheering for the Comets—this is going to be so awesome!” Rainbow Dash whooped.

“I’m so super-fantastically excited you can be there, Cheesie!” exclaimed Pinkie, blowing into her straw so that her drink bubbled.

“I’m pretty excited about it, too,” murmured Cheese.

Fluttershy glanced up, startled by the change of tone in Cheese’s voice. He had his chin cupped in his hand, and he was gazing at Pinkie while she blew bubbles. One look at the expression on his face told her all she needed to know, and she jumped up from the table. “Come on, Rainbow,” she said, “you’re late for practice, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” replied Rainbow Dash, shaking her head and sinking back more comfortably into the booth cushions. “No. Tonight’s the one night I don’t have practice. I just want to chill.”

“Oh, but . . .” Fluttershy said urgently, “maybe we should study, then, especially if tonight’s the only night you have free. You should really catch up while you can.”

“Relax, Fluttershy,” said Rainbow Dash, stretching both of her arms along the back of the booth. “I’ve got plenty of time.”

Fluttershy took a deep breath, paused, and then let it go. “Oh, ok,” she murmured. “Sorry. I’ll just be leaving, then.” She turned and walked out of Sugarcube’s. Rainbow Dash sat there for a moment or two, a puzzled expression on her face. Then she grabbed her backpack and hustled out the door. From just outside, the café patrons could hear an aggrieved, “Well, if you wanted to leave, you could’ve just said!”

Pinkie blew bubbles for a few more moments. She looked up and said, “How come you didn’t tell me you were suspended or grounded, Cheesie?”

“Well,” said Cheese, looking up at the ceiling and avoiding her eye, “I couldn’t tell you I was suspended or grounded, because I was grounded. I didn’t even have a phone, so I couldn’t—”

“You could have told me when you came to visit with Fluttershy,” she pointed out. “Or yesterday, when I came back to school. And you didn’t mention it when you called before.”

Cheese tried looking at the tablecloth instead. “I just said I didn’t have a phone,” he muttered.

“I know you didn’t,” said Pinkie. “Anyway, now you’re gonna tell me all about it.” She moved the plate of cupcakes slightly out of his reach. It wasn’t a very effective gesture, as his arms were a lot longer than hers, but she’d made her point.

“Ok,” Cheese said, and sighed. “I give up. Just tell me what you want me to say, and I’ll say it.”

“Fluttershy and Dashie knew you were suspended and I didn’t know. Why?”

“I . . . well. . . I didn’t want you to worry,” he said. “I figured that you hit your head and you had enough to worry about, and then you came back to school and there just hasn’t been time.”

She scowled and poked at her drink, but there wasn’t anything left. “I can take care of myself,” she said. “Could you push me the cupcakes? Thanks.” She grabbed an orange one and began to unwrap it. “I really, really hoped that after I did a good job with the Cake Festival, everybody would see I could take care of myself and do things on my own and that there’s nothing wrong with me. Then they made me have an assistant, and that’s ok, ‘cause it turned out to be you, but really it was ‘cause no one thought I could do it. And now one stupid accident and everyone’s treating me like a baby again. I hate feeling dumb.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb, Pinkie!” he insisted. “No one thinks the accident was your fault. Rainbow Dash wants to punch someone’s lights out over it. I was just terrified for you. No one wants to do anything to make you worse. So I guess I have been a little overprotective. We all have,” he added quickly. “But I don’t mean for it to be insulting.”

“Then quit protecting me, ok? Stop hiding things from me for my own good. It’s not—y’know—good.” She picked up the empty cupcake paper. “Why don’t you tell me about anything, Cheesie?” she said, her blue eyes wide. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are!” he said. “At least, I hope we are. And I don’t mean to hide everything from you, Pinkie. I’m not doing it on purpose. I’m just not used to telling anyone anything, ever.”

“I don’t like secrets and lies. They make people feel bad. And it’s not what friends do.”

“I don’t know a lot about what friends do,” he said, cracking an egg into his top hat and swirling it around. “Does it mean I’d have to tell you everything?”

“Pssht, no,” said Pinkie. “I mean, if I wanted to throw you a surprise birthday party, I couldn’t tell you about it or it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

He stopped what he was doing and simply stared at her for a long moment. “Ok,” he said finally, and pulled a bunch of flowers from the top hat. “No more big secrets. I’ll try, anyway.”

“Yay! That’s good, because now we can be like real friends,” she said, taking the flowers. “Hey, those are real flowers! I like them.” She placed them down on the table and licked the frosting off the cupcake paper. “Here, have another cupcake,” she said. “I probably wouldn’t have these new cupcakes if it weren’t for you.”

Cheese paused halfway through biting into a cupcake, getting frosting on his nose in the process. “How’s that?”

“I can taste things now. Everything doesn’t taste like an old tin can. And I’m feeling way better now, too, and I wouldn’t if you hadn’t said something about side effects. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who understood about things like that. So really,” she said thoughtfully, “these are Cheesie cupcakes.”

There was a long, long pause.

“You have frosting on your nose,” she said.

Cheese gulped. “Do I?”

She wiped it off and smiled at him. “Not anymore!”

Canterlot High was a much happier place now that Pinkie and Cheese were back. It felt almost as though school was out and summer vacation had started early this year. Even the pre-exam jitters couldn’t dampen the mood. It didn’t hurt that the Wondercolts had pulled themselves out of their slump and that Rainbow Dash was now captain again. Students lounged in the thick grass, watching Pinkie and Cheese racing back and forth doing outdoor prep work for the Cake Festival and enjoying their own relaxed mood. Watching all the party planning going on encouraged them to begin making plans of their own, some of which involved other students. Even Mr. Doodle and Ms. Harshwhinny didn’t sound as though they meant it when they scolded their students for not reviewing enough for exams, and Miss Cheerilee suggested in a staff meeting that the semi-holiday was actually good.

“No one can make up for a year of neglected work in a week of study,” she said. “And students do better on tests when they’re relaxed. Taking a few days off is good for them.”

Pinkie and Cheese themselves appeared to be in some sort of bubbly spiral. Since Cheese had already taken his exams, and Pinkie wouldn’t have to take hers until later in the summer, they were free to do other things, and while most of their time was spent working, they couldn’t work all the time. Once in a while, they sneaked into the band room and Cheese played the accordion for Pinkie, gradually moving away from the polkas they both loved into music he didn’t usually play in front of anyone. They practiced two-person juggling on the lawn. And somehow, they were also finding the time to dance, which was much easier now that Cheese had a reasonable curfew and didn’t have to account for every minute of every day.

“And Aunt Mela’s a lot happier, too,” Cheese pointed out, as they caught their breath, sitting with their backs against the gymnasium wall, “so everybody wins.”

“See?” said Pinkie. “This is the way things should be!”

All the happiness wiped from Cheese’s face as though by a giant eraser. “It’s the way it should be,” he agreed, “but it isn’t. My mother is going to be so steamed. To her, this isn’t a success, it’s a symptom, and I’m not sure what she’ll do about it.” He shook his head rapidly, like a dog trying to get something out of its ear. “Anyway, let’s not think about it.”

They’d started to practice in the gym, at the far end from where the accident had happened. They were guaranteed some privacy there, as the gym was officially off-limits, and they stayed well away from the treacherous roof. In fact, they weren’t far from where their audition table had been set up a few months ago.

“Remember the auditions?” said Cheese.

“Yep,” Pinkie said, stretching one of her legs and leaning over it. “That feels like a million zillion years ago.”

“I thought Trixie was going to spit tacks when Snips and Snails tried to steal her act. She wasn’t that pleased with me, either. Or with you.”

“She said something to me just yesterday. Let’s see, how’d she put it?—she said she’d overlook my past insolent behavior under the circumstances, and that in future, I could rely on the assistance of the Great and Powerful Trixie.” Pinkie shrugged. “I mean, who knew Trixie could be nice? That was a super fun polka you played, too. I’m really, really glad Flash’s band isn’t going to play any of those songs!”

“Let’s hope so,” said Cheese, knitting his eyebrows. “I thought he got the message, but I was getting my accordion out of the band room yesterday, and Flash in the Pan was playing something that sounded a lot like ‘Bedroom Spackling Project.’”

“You’ll just have to cut him off again, Cheesie. Oh, right,” she said, and sighed. “I forgot you weren’t going to be there.”

“You don’t remember anything about the accident, do you, Pinkie?”

She shook her head. “No. They said that sometimes happens. I’m not worried about it, though. I don’t think I want to remember, but I think maybe something changed.”

“Like what?” he said, turning to her.

“I don’t know,” she said, frowning. “I just feel—kinda more like me. Which doesn’t make any sense, because who else would I feel like if not me? But somehow I feel more like me than the me I was before. Anyhoo,” she said, jumping from her seat on the floor to her feet in one move, and holding out her hand to pull him up as well, “we’re both getting to play and dance and plan parties and make people happy, and that feels right, so I don’t really care how or why.”

Cheese paused, as though he were listening to something. Finally he said, “Do you hear polka music?”

Pinkie cocked her ear. “No. Wait. I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure either,” he agreed, “but I think I know just what you mean. I feel like I’m more me than me. Man, that is weird.”

“But fun, right?” she said, giving him a one-armed hug.

He smiled down at her. “You know it.”

She froze. “Sunset!” she said. “We forgot all about Sunset! I haven’t seen her for days and days! Come on, Cheesie—we can make it and catch her in the library if we hurry.” She grabbed her things and raced for the door.

“Wait a second,” said Cheese, as he hurried after her. “I already took my exams, and everything’s ok with Aunt Mela and Vice Principal Luna for now, and that’s as good as it was ever going to be. We don’t have to see her anymore, right?”

She whirled around to face him. “Duh, YEAH!” she said. “Because she’s feeling super lonely right now.”

Pinkie and Cheese stood at the foot of the library stairs. Despite its being the Friday before exam week, the library was nearly deserted. Evidently students had decided that whatever would be, would be, and had knocked off work early.

“Yoo-hoo! Sunset! Pinkie and Cheese down here! We’re ready for our lesson!”

There was no answer, except for some coughing in the distant reaches of the second floor. Pinkie turned to Cheese. “C’mon, Cheesie. Let’s go on up and find her.”

Sunset Shimmer sat, still surrounded by mirrors, her books covered in dust. Her head was pillowed on her arms.

“Hiya, Sunset! Are you ready to teach and learn and stuff?”

Sunset sat up slowly, shaking her head. “Why are you even here?” she said. “You don’t need to be tutored anymore. You don’t need lessons.”

“Not our lessons,” said Pinkie, plopping down in a chair next to her. “Your lessons, silly! We’re here to give you your friendship lesson!”

The other girl snorted. “Forget it,” she snapped. “I flunked friendship.”

“I flunked algebra twice,” Cheese pointed out, taking the chair opposite Pinkie, spinning it around, and straddling it so that he was facing the chair back. “I finally passed it, so the good news is that I never have to do anything with algebra ever again!” He frowned. “Wait, no. That doesn’t work so well with friendship, does it? Doesn’t matter,” he said, shrugging. “The point is not to give up.”

“I just wanted to know something she didn’t know,” said Sunset. “And I didn’t learn anything about your magic.”

“Aw, don’t feel bad about it, Sunnyshutter,” said Pinkie. “We don’t understand it either.”

Sunset Shimmer shook her head. “Fluttershy was right. I did try to make you into my test subjects, and I failed at that, too.”

Pinkie cocked her head to one side. “Because instead, you wanted us to be your friends?”

Sunset bit her lips and looked straight up at the ceiling, eyes blinking very fast. She made a very tense, very fast little nod.

“D’awww!” said Pinkie, leaning over and giving her a hug. “You should have said so, silly! We like having lots and lots of friends.” She frowned. “Anyway, I do,” she corrected herself. “Cheesie’s not that good at friendship himself, but he’s working on it.”

Cheese leaned back in his chair and pulled at it, tilting it backwards. “Huh. You said something about us being portals and wanting a stable portal. Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “It drives me crazy knowing that she’s probably on the other side, working on the same thing, but for some reason, it’s ok when she does it.”

“Who’s ‘she?’” said Cheese, glancing over at Pinkie.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she replied. “She’s not the only good student Celestia’s ever had. I mean MY Celestia,” she added, noticing Pinkie and Cheese’s puzzled looks. “The REAL one. I need her to know that! I mean, we can’t all be princesses, and I’m not sure I want to be one anymore. I’m beginning to think it’s an awful job, having to deal with other po . . . people all the time.”

She stood up and walked around each of her mirrors, picking up the small ones, glancing in them, and then placing them back. “I’ve given up on the idea of going home,” she said. “It’s never going to happen. There’s never going to be a door, but I’d settle for a window. If I could just catch a glimpse of something—something outside the Canterlot Library. I spent so much time in that library, and I spend so much time in this one. Just a peek, just for a moment!”

“This is making you really sad, isn’t it?” said Pinkie. “I don’t like it that you’re sad. What do I have to do to make you smile?”

Sunset turned around, very, very slowly.

“Look in my mirror,” she said. “Just one more time.”

“Okey-dokey-lokey!” said Pinkie, jumping to her feet. “See? That wasn’t hard. Will it make you smile this time?”

“Maybe,” said Sunset. “It’s this one,” she said, indicating the mirror Pinkie had looked into before.
Cheese looked around at all the mirrors, as though registering something for the first time.

“You’ve rearranged these, haven’t you?” he asked, looking along some of the sightlines. “If Pinkie looks in that one, she’s going to see . . .”

“An infinite number of Pinkies? Possibly. Now shush. Don’t listen to him, Pinkie. Just look into the mirror and tell me exactly what you see.”

Pinkie looked down into the mirror. “Same as last time,” she said. “Just me. Just Pinkie.”

Sunset slumped. “I failed,” she said, leaning her head against a bookcase.

“Wow, I’m really shaking my hoof thing!”

The other girl gasped and stood upright so suddenly that she hit her head on a shelf. “Hooves?”

“Yepsidoodle!” said Pinkie. “You asked if I saw me, and I said I see me, and me is a little pink horse. Didn’t I mention that last time?”

Sunset grabbed Cheese and dragged him over to the mirror.

“Hey!” he protested. “I thought I was your friend and not your test subject!”

“You can be both,” she snapped. “Shut up, stand behind Pinkie, and look in.” She pushed him towards the mirror.

“Look at me go!” said Pinkie happily. “I wish I could bounce like that. And hey, me has a box of cupcakes on her head! And—ooo, look, Cheesie! See? There you are!”

Cheese bent down so that his head was level with Pinkie’s, and gazed into the mirror. Finally he said, “I need a hat like that.”

“I’m late late late late!” sang Pinkie, as she grabbed a few more supplies and tied some blue and yellow ribbons into her hair. “Laaaaate,” she sang, as she slid down the banister, three twisting floors to the ground level, which was the Cake’s kitchen. She grabbed a box of cupcakes placed on the counter, and turned to Mr. Cake, who was sitting at the kitchen table. “I’m ready!”

Mr. Cake nursed a cup of coffee. Back here, in his own kitchen, he didn’t drink the elaborate lattes and cappuccinos served in the coffeehouse. He drank plain coffee, very simple and very strong. “I’m sorry, Pinkie,” he said, turning around in his chair. “I can’t drive you to the game after all. I just went outside, and the truck won’t start at all. It won’t even turn over. I’m waiting for the tow truck right now.”

“Oh, no, that’s awful! And you had all those deliveries to make, too! How are you going to get the wedding cake to that reception?”

Mr. Cake’s eyes bugged out with dawning realization, and he sprang to his feet, throwing his hat on the table. “Cup Cake!” he called, with an edge of panic in his voice. “We’ve got a big problem here!”

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Cake!” said Pinkie. “I can just take my bike. It won’t take that much longer. ‘Bye! Good luck with the truck!”

She bounced down the stairs and raced to where her bike was parked. It was glittery pink, with a big white basket, laced through with multicolored ribbons that streamed out behind her like a rocket trail when she sped through the streets of Canterlot, pinging the bell. She’d already placed the box of cupcakes on the rack on the rear wheel when she noticed that both tires had been slashed. She gasped.

“Now what kind of meanie would ever . . .” Another bike shot by. Its rider grabbed the box of cupcakes and sped off. “HEY!”

“Where’s Pinkie?” said Rainbow Dash. “The game’s gonna start in ten minutes!”

The Comets were getting ready for their final match against the Cyclones. They tapped bats against their cleats, slammed their hands into their gloves. Over next to the batting cage, Scootaloo stretched, bending to each side, pulling her arms in towards her chest, and lunging, grimacing once as her right leg hit something uncomfortable. Her friends, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, stood on the other side of the wire fence and gave her a pep talk.

“You’re gonna do great, Scootaloo!” said Apple Bloom.

“Yeah, I better,” said Scootaloo. “Rainbow Dash has me playing shortstop, and I don’t wanna let her down. And she’s got me batting fourth. No pressure.”

“Well, it’s only fourth place,” said Sweetie Belle. “I mean, it’s not like you’re in first place or anything.”

“Gah!” exclaimed Scootaloo, as she hung upside down, letting her back stretch out. Her impatient snort sounded very much like a junior version of her idol’s. “Fourth’s cleanup! Fourth is a big deal! Fourth is—never mind. I’ll see you guys after the game if I’m still alive, because I’m gonna win this thing or die trying.”

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom looked at each other and then back at Scootaloo. “Well, anyway . . .” Sweetie Belle said, “good luck!”

“Come on, you two,” said Applejack, gesturing to them to join her and Rarity. “Time to get our seats if you want good ones. That goes double for you, Rarity,” she added, addressing her friend, who was making some last minute adjustments to her appearance.

“Just a soupçon more tinted sunscreen,” Rarity said. “Really, Applejack, one should always wear sunscreen—and a slight tweak to the scarf and some SPF lipstick. And no, I do not want to linger near the dugout. It’s so dusty down here. Are you joining us, Fluttershy?”

“Oh, yes. In a moment,” replied Fluttershy, pushing a lock of hair out of her face. “I’m just waiting for Pinkie with Rainbow. I’ll come up as soon as she gets here.”

“Now, I’m sure you’re just worried over nothing, RD,” said Applejack, striding over to Rainbow Dash and slapping her on the back. “Pinkie’ll be here any minute; see if she isn’t.” She dropped her voice. “And if she isn’t here by the bottom of the first inning, I’ll take the truck and go looking for her myself, and Rarity can look after the kids.” She turned around and followed Rarity and their sisters up to the stands.

The crowd of parents and well-wishers were settling in. The Cloudsdale side was a solid mass of team colors. Evidently, they really believed in showing their team support visually. On the Canterlot side, the picnic lunches were already coming out, as though it were a picnic at which there happened to be a baseball game, and not the other way around. The attitude was one of resigned cheerfulness, and some of the fathers might as well have been wearing T shirts inscribed with “Wait’ll Next Year.” Rainbow Dash wheeled around to glare at them.

“What’s wrong with them? This is for the title. It’s not as though we lost all season.”

“Oh, I know, Rainbow,” Fluttershy said. “It’s not your fault that Cloudsdale’s so competitive this year, or that the Comets fans became so demoralized after that last awful game that they think you can’t possibly win.” From the Cloudsdale dugout, Lightning Dust gave a friendly wave.

Rainbow Dash spun around so that the team couldn’t see her and drew her hands down her cheeks, pulling the skin so that the whites of her eyes showed.

“Agh, we’re going to lose, aren’t we? And I practically promised Scootaloo I’d take her to Cowperstown,” Dash lamented. “Big dumb me, I just had to get her hopes up for a crack at the nationals. But no, we’re gonna get slammed, and it’ll be my fault, and she’s going to know I suck.”

Cheese came up behind them. “Has anyone seen Pinkie?” he said, standing on one leg.

“Bad timing, Cheese,” murmured Fluttershy.

“No!” Rainbow Dash shot back. “And the last time she wasn’t at a game, it was because she was in the hospital.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s in the hospital now, Rainbow,” Fluttershy pointed out. “It just means she’s late.”

“I know,” the other girl muttered, dragging her foot in the dirt. “But—I just have this sick feeling inside about it. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Cheese nodded. “I know exactly what you mean,” he agreed, as he pulled a Canterlot Comets hat from nowhere. “No, I don’t feel great about it, either. But Pinkie read me the riot act about how she hated it when people were overprotective, and that she could take care of herself, so—I’m just going to hope she’s right about that. And there’s nothing you can do, and you’ve got a game to win. We can utterly freak out about it afterwards. In fact, I’ll join you.”

“I’d still feel better if she were here,” Dash muttered. “She could warm up that crowd. Their attitude is dragging the team down. And she’s right. I do feel better when she’s screaming for me.”

Cheese stood still for a moment, as though he were taking in the crowd’s reactions, the team’s anxiety, and Rainbow Dash’s worry. “I’ll do it,” he said. “I’m not Pinkie, and it won’t be the same, but it’s better than nothing.”

“It won’t be as good,” Rainbow Dash muttered.

Fluttershy gasped. “Rainbow!”

“No,” said Cheese, shaking his head. “It’s not going to be the same. But it’s going to be epic.” He opened his hands and gave his accordion a short practice squeeze or two, and then trotted off towards the Canterlot side of the bleachers, draped in Canterlot colors. “All right, Canterlot!” he yelled. “Who’s ready to see some awesome ball?”

As he reeled off an impromptu polka weaving in the names of the Comets players, the crowd began clapping their hands in time with the music, and Dash slowly straightened up. “Yeah,” she said. “He’s right. We do have a game to win.” She whirled around and jogged over to her team. “Listen up, squirts!” she yelled. “That crowd knows every single one of your names because you’re heroes, right? Because you’re awesome! Right?” The Comets muttered. “You speak up when your coach is talking! I said, you’re awesome, rrrright?”

“Yes, Rainbow Dash!”

“And you’re gonna get out there and show Cloudsdale what you’re made of, you hear? Hands in!” She held her arm out at full length. The players slammed their hands down on top of hers, one by one, then pulled them back up with a long, loud whoop. They moved out into their places on the field, and Rainbow Dash smiled.

“Y’know,” she said to Fluttershy, settling into the dugout, “I wouldn’t have thought polka music would perk a crowd up so much, but whatever works, right? Hey,” she added, frowning, “you aren’t supposed to be down here.”

“I’m sorry,” murmured Fluttershy. “Did you notice that . . .”

“Well, if you’re gonna stay,” Dash went on, “at least put on one of these helmets. “Regulations.” She slapped a protective helmet on Fluttershy and yanked the chin strap tight.

“GO COMETS!” a tenor voice yelled out near the stands. Rainbow Dash chuckled.

“I’m used to hearing that a couple of octaves higher,” she said, leaning on the barrier, “but it’ll do for now.”

“Um, did you notice,” Fluttershy murmured, “Cheese wasn’t carrying his accordion when he . . .” But she couldn’t make herself heard over the crowd, and quickly gave up.

The game started, with the Cyclones at bat and the Comets in the field. The first two Cloudsdale players managed neat little bunts that left two players on base.

“They’re good,” Dash muttered. “Should’ve expected that, with Dusty coaching them. It’s gonna be a rough afternoon.” She glanced down for a moment, and then jerked her head up suddenly as a great roar came from the Canterlot side of the bleachers. “What happened?”

“Um—Scootaloo did this thing. What’s it called when you throw the ball and get two people out at once?”

“A double play!” screamed Rainbow Dash. “Scoots pulled off a double play? That’s it. I’m not looking away for a second.” She didn’t have much of an opportunity, anyway, as Cloudsdale quickly got its third out, and the sides switched. They both stepped out of the dugout for a brief rest.

Applejack walked up. “That happened quicker’n I thought,” she said, “but I’m headin’ out to find Pinkie. What the—?”

A pink dot appeared on the horizon, followed by a streak of pink, zig-zagging like a lightning bolt towards the baseball field. Pinkie appeared, puffing with effort, curls damp with exertion, and carrying a box of cupcakes.

“Aw, geez, I’m late, Dashie! I’m so sorry!” She handed the box of cupcakes to Fluttershy and sat down.

“What happened?” asked Fluttershy. “You look tired.”

“Am I ever!” exclaimed Pinkie. “I had a teeny bit of trouble getting here. See, first Mr. Cake’s truck wouldn’t start, which was a huge bummer for him, and then my bike’s tires were slashed, which was a huge bummer for me, and then out of nowhere, someone comes and grabs my cupcakes!”

“No!” gasped Fluttershy.

“So I got my cupcakes . . . ” Pinkie continued.

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “I thought you said someone stole your cupcakes.”

“They did,” replied Pinkie, nodding, “but these were some other cupcakes. Anyway, just then, a man drove up in a car and asked if I needed a ride, which I guess sounded like a nice thing to do.”

“Oh, Pinkie, you didn’t,” murmured Fluttershy.

“You’re right. I didn’t. I didn’t think he looked like a nice person and everyone’s always told me to say ‘no’ when someone asks that, so I said ‘no’ very nicely and then he got out of the car and tried to grab me.”

“What?” shrieked Rainbow Dash.

“So I kicked him,” Pinkie went on blithely, as though Rainbow Dash hadn’t said a thing, “and he lay down on the ground and rolled around a lot and I just ran.”

“You ran a couple of miles holding some cupcakes in your arms? Wasn’t that awkward?”

“Oh, no,” said Pinkie. “I had them on my head. It was this great idea I got somewhere. Anyhoo, that’s why I’m late. I’m sorry I couldn’t scream for you.”

“Actually,” Rainbow Dash admitted, “Cheese Sandwich stepped in to do it for you.”

“Oh?” said Pinkie, knitting her brows. Cheese raced up with an audible screech of brakes.

“Pinkie!” he exclaimed. “Come on! They want you out there!”

“You seem to be doing fine without me,” she sniffed.

“Not without you. It’s you they really want,” he insisted, holding out his hand, adding, as he followed her, “I know you told me I’m not allowed to worry about you, but I was really worried anyway. Sorry.”

The game ended in a 9-1 victory for the Comets, and Scootaloo, First Base, and the others raced for their coach, slapping hands and high-fiving. Everyone had a celebratory cupcake before hitting the showers.

“Yum!” said Sweetie Belle. “Thanks, Pinkie! These are much nicer than the free ones they were giving away up there!”

“Huh?” said Pinkie. “What free cupcakes?”

“Oh, some guys with trays,” Apple Bloom said through a mouthful of cupcake. “They weren’t real nice, but they were free, so we tried ‘em.”

“That was very odd,” said Rarity, “and very concerning, although I fail to see why anyone should think giving away substandard cupcakes made any sense.”

Lightning Dust walked up to Rainbow Dash, hand outstretched. The Comets clustered around their coach.

“The best team won,” said Lightning Dust, shaking Rainbow Dash’s hand, and looked around at the Comets. “You guys did great. Impressive win. You should be really proud of yourselves and your coach, too.”

Scootaloo took off her cap and ran her hand through her magenta hair. “Yeah? Well, I think Rainbow Dash is all kinds of awesome anyway, win or lose. And so are we.”

Lightning Dust’s eye traveled from Scootaloo’s head, to Pinkie’s, to Fluttershy’s. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Well, that’s good, but don’t knock winning. It matters.”

Pinkie looked over at the Cloudsdale dugout. They were looking at their coach. Some sat slumped on benches, some had thrown their hats on the ground, and two of the players were actually crying. “Aw,” she said. “They’re just kids. Come on, Cheesie!” she said, and they raced across the field, yelling, “Gimme a C! Gimme an L!”

“Huh,” said Lightning Dust. “I didn’t realize you had backup. Anyway, I’m not going to hold up your victory celebration. See you tomorrow, Dash.”

Fluttershy stared after Dusty. Rarity was at her side in a moment and placed her arm around her. “I think good manners apply in winning or losing, don’t you? It’s all about being gracious, isn’t it, Sweetie Belle, and you are about to get chocolate on that blouse, which will not come out, so be careful.”

“Well, you guys oughta be proud of yourselves for the whole season,” announced Applejack, “and we’ve got an end of season party over at Sweet Apple Acres, so you clean yourselves up and head on out for some hand-cranked ice cream!”

“YAY!” yelled the Comets, and bolted for the showers.

It took a little while to get cleaned up, but shortly the cars began pulling out of the lot one by one, headed for Sweet Apple Acres. Cheese put away his accordion, even though the task shouldn’t have taken as long as it did, and then took it out to where Pinkie was standing on the field in the late afternoon sun.

“That was pretty awesome, Cheesie,” she burbled, swinging around and hugging herself. “Is that the first time we’ve done something together like that?”

“Yeah,” said Cheese, smiling and beginning to juggle one-handed. “I think it is.”

“I loved it! I wish we could do that all the time!”

“Me too,” agreed Cheese, allowing the balls to roll up his sleeve again, and casually blowing some flame.

“Do you think we could? The Wondercolts are playing tomorrow. It’s the last game of the playoffs, and I know Dashie would really like to win, so . . .”

“Well . . . maybe,” said Cheese. “Hey!” he added, as Pinkie squeaked, jumped up, and gave him a giant hug. “I said maybe!”

“Oh, that would be absotootly-lutely super-fantastic!” she said, bouncing back to the ground, and added, “um . . . Cheesie? I . . . um, I just wanted to say something.”

Cheese froze. “Yes?”

“Well . . . I’m so glad you’ve been trying to help me with the accident and everything. And I guess we’re a lot alike. . .”

“Yes?”

“Because we’ve got the same thing wrong with us. And I guess that’s why we’re friends.”

Applejack walked onto the field. “Pinkie? You comin’? Cause we’re about to leave.”

“Ok!” she called back. “Anyway, thanks for everything,” she said, and hugged him. “’Bye,” and she ran off the field.

Cheese stood there on the field for what seemed like a very long time, and then dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, no, no, no, no,” he groaned. “This is so messed up.”

Author's Note

I’ve really had to start reaching for those cupcake flavors! There are much weirder ones than those I’ve mentioned, but for some reason, I shy away from bacon and fried chicken in pony fanfic, even in EG pony fanfic.

The scene at Sugarcube’s was inspired by this picture:

http://pasikon86.tumblr.com/post/96716389406

I’d use it as a cover picture in a nanosecond, only the author, Pasikon, says he or she can’t reply because of not speaking English, and I don’t like to use things without permission. I still may ask, though, because I love that picture.

Baseball fans are probably having a good laugh at me, although I’ve checked as much as I could. Still, I’ve got a soft spot for what’s been called the American national pastime, and I know everything there is to know about pre-resignation to defeat, since when I follow baseball, I am a Cubs fan. When Cubs fans sing “Take Me Out To The Ball Game,” the lyrics go, “So it’s root, root, root for the Cubbies, / If they don’t win, it’s the same.”

I’m working as quickly as possible to get this done before Rainbow Rocks, although my other responsibilities are sliding in, too. The big finish chapter is coming next, with a sort of sub-chapter, and then a tiny coda. When we see you next, it will be at the actual Cake Festival!

Methought I Was, And Methought I Had

“Six in the morning,” moaned Rainbow Dash, and yawned. “Argh! Six in the morning is way too early.”

“Big Mac got up even earlier,” Applejack pointed out, as she lifted her end of a long table and waited for Dash to pick up the other. “He had to drive that cranky old clunker of a party cannon up from the farm this morning, and you know that thing doesn’t go fast. He was up at four. And you know what Granny Smith says: ‘Early to bed and early to rise.’ ”

“Well,” grumbled Rainbow Dash, helping her friend carry the table over to the small tent, “all I can say is that the cake for the cake eating contest had better be good.”

Everyone was scurrying around, doing last minute setup for the Cake Festival. The original plan had been to have the cake decorating, cake judging, and cake eating contests inside, in the gym, where the desserts wouldn’t suffer so much from the heat. The condition of the gym made this impossible, so the cake events had to be relocated to a small, separate tent outside. The entire event had to be restructured and re-planned, from foot traffic flow to decorations, and Pinkie and Cheese had risen to the challenge beautifully, spending the hours originally intended for final exams on their “community service project.”

The cake tent was located at some distance from the food tent and the heat from cooking burgers, hot dogs, and sweet corn. Pinkie and Cheese had placed it in a spot where it was in the shadow cast by the school building. In order to make sure that it was still prominent, they had created a pathway outlined by small lighted garden stakes on either side, each stake topped by a glowing cupcake. The outside of the tent was covered by the streamers and cupcake-shaped lights originally meant to be hung from the grid inside. Now Rainbow Dash and Applejack were bringing in the heavy platforms for the display cakes and placing them on the spots Cheese had marked on the ground.

“I don’t know why you think this is early, Rainbow. I thought you went running every morning at least as early as this.”

Rainbow Dash yawned again as she dropped another platform in place with a soft thud. “Yeah, but this isn’t what I’d planned to do the first weekend after school’s out. And I was out late. Last night was Soarin’s graduation party.”

Applejack frowned. “I thought he’d already had his graduation party last week.”

Rainbow Dash grinned. “He’s had a graduation party with the whole team every night since then. Guess he’s blowing off some steam. That, or he’s gonna miss all of us a lot.”

“Well, nothing like a little hard work to help you bounce back,” said Applejack, as they walked towards the truck where more tables and display stands were stashed. “And Granny always says 'many hands make light work.’”

“Aw, please,” groaned Rainbow Dash. “No more folksy sayings. I just can’t handle them this early.”

“You know what gets me about you, RD? Why you grouse and bellyache so much—”

“Hey!”

“—when, when it’s time to do something, you always come through? If I didn’t know you so well, I’d think you were awful lazy, but you just roll up your sleeves and work harder’n anyone. ‘Ceptin’ me, of course.”

“Yeah, well,” the other girl admitted, “don’t let it get around, AJ, or everyone’ll be wanting some.”

“Morning!” shrieked Pinkie Pie, popping up like a jack-in-the-box from behind one of the stands they’d just put in place.

Rainbow Dash clutched her chest. “GAH! Don’t DO that, Pinkie! It’s too early for that!”

“Just checking on the cake tent!” Pinkie went on, pulling her clipboard and pen from her thick mop of curls, which seemed extra thick and curly this morning. “Uh-huh—uh-huh—uh-huh—,” she muttered, as she tapped her lips with her pen. “Hmmm. Something seems missing. Oh, yeah!” she said, and beamed. She whizzed around, a blur of pink and blue, unfurling tablecloths and trailing streamers, confetti, flowers, and cupcake decorations behind her. “Yep!” she said, crossing something off her clipboard list with a flourish, “that was it!” and she raced back out through the tent flaps.

Applejack took off her hat and removed her ponytail holder. “Whew!” she said. “Looks like it could be a hot one today. Would you believe Pinkie? That girl couldn’t stir cookie dough four months ago without gettin’ it all over the walls and ceiling. Can’t believe how much she’s changed.” She bundled her hair back together into its ponytail. “Looks like we’re done here,” she remarked. “How about we grab some coffee?”

“Slacking off work already?” said Rainbow Dash, and grinned.

“Aw, you hush,” Applejack replied, giving her friend a push on the shoulder, and they went in search of caffeine.

Meanwhile, Rarity and Fluttershy were setting up their adjoining booths. Rarity’s table was covered with swags of purple and gold fabric, and she had artfully placed multicolored rhinestones on the surface so that they appeared to be casually scattered, the early morning light already creating a prismatic effect. On the right side of the table, she had placed two glittery clipboards: one with signups for the apron promenade and costume contest, and the other with signups for the apron decoration competitions, one for children and one for adults. Under the tablecloth, she had stowed boxes of various types of trim left over from the salon, which Prim Hemline, her employer, had donated. Glossy placards for Prim’s boutique were spread in a graceful fan in the center of the table. To the left, Rarity had arranged a number of her own handmade creations.

“What are those?” asked Fluttershy, pointing to one of them. “They look like little hats.”

“They’re fascinators,” explained Rarity. “They’re something between a hat and a hairpiece. They perch on the coiffure just so,” she added, demonstrating on her own head.

Fluttershy bent over to examine them more closely. “My, they’re so delicate,” she murmured.

“Yes, they are,” Rarity agreed, tweaking their arrangement slightly. “They also need such small amounts of material that I can indulge my need to create quite economically. I prefer to make them to order, so that they are unique as well as chic and magnifique, but these little speculative ones sell very well and exhibit my skills for those who do want custom ones. Which one do you like best?”

“Oh, that one!” exclaimed Fluttershy, pointing to a delicate green gossamer creation. Its tiny hat-like base supported a butterfly on nearly invisible wires, which made it quiver and flutter with every movement. It was much larger than Fluttershy’s usual barrette, with grass green and yellow crystals outlining the wings.

“Then you must have it, darling,” said Rarity. “No, no,” she insisted, over Fluttershy’s protests. “It suits you so well that it might have been made for you. Allow me,” she said, as she pinned the butterfly into Fluttershy’s hair, so that it swept up her long silky pink hair on one side. Arranged by Rarity, the artificial butterfly seemed to have alighted there on its own, and to have settled itself in the most fetching way completely by coincidence.

“Oh, thank you,” murmured Fluttershy. “I’m afraid my table isn’t nearly as nice-looking as yours.”

“Well, let’s see what can be done with it!” exclaimed Rarity.

Fluttershy’s table wasn’t as elegant as Rarity’s. Covered in a simple green cloth, it had a signup sheet for volunteers for the animal rescue center and piles of leaflets on various animal welfare issues. Rarity set to work fanning out the leaflets in more attractive patterns and raiding her trim boxes for artificial flowers and leaves to scatter on the surface. Fluttershy leaned over an orange plastic animal carrier in the center.

“Aw, are you all right in there?” she cooed.

Rarity paused in her decoration work. “What do you have there, Fluttershy?”

“I thought you might recognize him,” Fluttershy said reproachfully. “The hamsters at the animal rescue? This is Curtis Pawpower. Remember him?”

“Oh,” said Rarity, glancing at the alarmingly large and masculine hamster. “Ha, ha. Yes, how nice. Ah—happy to renew our acquaintance, ah—Mr. Pawpower.”

The big hamster swaggered his shoulders and swept back his whiskers in an unmistakably macho manner.

“And how’s everything going?” asked Cheese, popping up directly in front of them and holding a large cardboard box. Fluttershy squeaked in alarm. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m fine,” said Fluttershy.

“Good,” said Cheese absently, pushing back his ten-gallon hat. “Just stash that under the tablecloth, will you?” He handed her the box and put a second clipboard down on the tabletop.

“Cheese?” Fluttershy asked. “What’s that?” She indicated a large object covered with a tarp and placed next to her table. It was as wide as the table and considerably higher; it was at least half again as tall as Cheese.

“Ah, that?” said Cheese, giving it a pat. Something inside sloshed. “You’ll see,” he added mysteriously. “You’re going to love it.” He disappeared into the group of volunteers trotting to and fro on their last minute tasks.

“Oh, dear,” murmured Rarity, gazing up at whatever it was.

Entrants for the cake competitions brought their cakes in and set them up on the display stands. Many were heavy and elaborately decorated, and placing them involved nail-biting anxiety as each cake successfully cleared the entrance and was settled on its stand. Pinkie, who knew how this felt, supervised the process so well that not a single sugar decoration shattered.

The volunteers continued to set up the festival. Some inflated the bouncy castle; others rolled a helium tank into place and put a stool and crates of balloons next to it. Vendors who had rented various tables began to set up their areas, although some hadn’t arrived yet.

“Who’s ‘Pete’s Pies’?” asked Pinkie Pie, as she and Cheese made a last circuit of the festival grounds, which was usually the soccer field, but had most recently done duty for graduation ceremonies.

“No idea,” replied Cheese, walking and double-checking his list at the same time. “I was hoping you’d know, since it’s your last name.”

“Noperooni!” said Pinkie.

“Well, they completed all the paperwork and their check cleared, and I showed you the forms, so they’re in. I guess we’ll find out when they get here.”

They paused at the biggest and most impressive table at the center of the festival grounds. A canopy above the table bore the words “Sugarcube’s Café and Bakery—Our Sponsors.” Display cakes in glass boxes showed samples of what the bakery could provide for weddings and birthdays; a large photograph album contained pictures of their work over the years. Behind the table sat the Cakes, trying to distract their twins from grabbing at the pastries.

“Good morning!” said Cheese. “Ready for the cake judging?”

Carrot Cake, dressed in his best baker’s whites, said, “There are some really impressive entries this year. The judges are going to have a hard time picking winners in any of the categories, aren’t they, honeybun?”

His wife nodded in agreement. “They certainly will! You’ve done such a good job with publicity, Pinkie. We’ve had so many more entries from all over. We’re really impressed.”

“Gee, thanks, Mrs. Cake!” said Pinkie, blushing. “I just checked the cake tent, and it’s all ready for you, so I’ll see you there in a couple of hours.”

They did a final sound check using animal calls, and double-checked every possible part of both the small and large stages to make sure they were safe and stable.

“Oo! The bouncy castle!” squealed Pinkie, rushing up to it. Somewhere, they’d been able to find a bouncy castle that looked exactly like a giant birthday cake. Cheese caught up with her.

“I think we should check to see that it’s working correctly, don’t you?” she said, frowning and looking it over, kicking it a few times.

“Yes,” said Cheese, gravely placing his clipboard on the ground. “Let’s.”

They hurled themselves through the flap.

“Whee!”

“Geronimo!”

The volunteers had done a very good job inflating the bouncy castle. It had just enough firmness to keep them caroming off the walls and flapping like pancakes on the floor with relatively little effort.

“Whew!” gasped Cheese, as they lay flat on the floor catching their breath. “Well,” he added, as they crawled for the door, “that’s one thing done.” They continued their circuit, finishing up at Pinkie’s balloon station.

“I don’t use helium tanks,” said Pinkie, frowning again.

“I know you don’t,” said Cheese, lowering his voice, “but I thought it would be a good idea to look as though you do.”

“Ohhhh,” said Pinkie.

“Besides, you’re going to be busy and running around all day, so I figured other people will be running the station when you’re not available. And they’ll need to do what you do. And sound like you, too.” He took a hit from the helium tank, and gasped, his eyes rolling up into his head. His beret slipped off, and he sagged at the knees.

“Cheesie!” Pinkie exclaimed.

He took a few big lungfuls of air before squeaking, “What?”

“You big silly!” Pinkie scolded. “Never inhale helium from a helium tank! That’s really dangerous!”

“Ok,” he squeaked.

“Always inhale from a balloon!”

He nodded, and took a few more deep breaths. “I forgot,” he said, as the helium effect wore off.

Pinkie picked up his bowler hat and rose on tiptoe to settle it on his head. She turned slowly in place, looking at every single station, every decoration, every arrangement, every possible path a visitor might take through the festival.

Perfect. She smiled.

“Say it, Boss,” Cheese prompted. “I’m an awesome assistant.”

“ ‘I’m an awesome assistant,’ ” Pinkie repeated, then, as he slapped his hand to his face, she added, “and you are too! Seriously, Cheesie, you’ve done a super-duper job and I’m so fantastically glad you can be here after all. I could never have done all this by myself. Nobody could. I just wish . . .”

“What?” said Cheese, taking off his bowler and putting it away.

“I don’t feel sorry I have an assistant at all. We’re just going to be so crazy busy, and there’s only two of us, and now that doesn’t seem like enough. I kinda wish there was more of us to go around.”

“Honestly,” Cheese admitted, rumpling his hair, “I wish that, too, but if there’s only going to be two people running this hootenanny, then we’re the ones to do it. Nine o’ clock,” he said, checking his watch. “Are you ready?”

“Absotootly-lootly!”

“Pinkie Promise?”

“Cheesy Swear,” she answered, and smiled. “Same thing.”

And together, they pulled back the barriers and let the crowds come in.

Usually when a festival opens early in the morning, the crowds are very thin. That wasn’t the case today. People were already waiting eagerly behind the barrier, craning to get a look inside, and once the barriers were open, they poured in.

First came Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, followed by First Base, Archer, other members of the Canterlot Comets, and some younger kids. Apple Bloom dragged her friends to the food tent first, to sniff at the possibilities for lunch and to say hi to Apple Bloom’s Granny, who was supervising the food preparations. Then they ran over to Rarity’s table, looking at everything as Rarity begged them not to touch, and d’awwed over Curtis Pawpower, who was a shameless glutton for attention.

Vinyl Scratch strolled in, barely noticing as other, hastier people jostled past her. She strode to her own rhythm, earphones firmly clamped to her ears and shades down over her eyes, completely unconcerned about whether she might be missing something. She was followed by Photo Finish, already scoping out the perfect photographic angles and hurrying to take pictures of everything before it was disarranged. Mr. Doodle came in with his girlfriend, Mrs. Matilda, shying away from the busy crowd and inspecting the quieter booths. The Wondercolts rumbled in and made straight for the food tent and the cake tent, loudly speculating about the cake eating contest.

Finally, as the first cohort passed by, Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna entered. Cheese and Pinkie held their breath as both walked completely around the festival grounds. The principal and her sister held a quiet conversation, and then the principal strolled off on her own, while Vice Principal Luna came up to Pinkie and Cheese. “Very nice,” she conceded.

“Guess this means we get an A in community service, right?” said Pinkie, and both looked as hopeful and perky as possible.

The vice principal raised one eyebrow. “The day’s not over yet,” she pointed out, and then she clucked her tongue in annoyance as she followed her older sibling into the cake tent.

For some time, Pinkie and Cheese allowed the crowd to mill around and to look at all the exhibits and everything that there was to do, and waited for more attendees to enter the grounds. Shortly before ten o’clock, they made their way over to the large covered object near Fluttershy’s table. Removing the tarp, they revealed it to be a dunk tank, plastered over with decals featuring a toothily grinning orca with the caption, “Fred, the Happy Killer Whale!” Cheese pulled out a ladder and set it up behind the tank, while Pinkie grabbed the cardboard box Cheese had asked Fluttershy to stow under her table earlier. Then they donned matching straw boaters, identical, very false-looking curly mustaches, and picked up canes.

“Attention, attention, attention, ladies, gentlemen, children of all ages, will you direct your attention to the tank next to the animal rescue center booth, attention if you please!”

Many people crowded around the dunk tank, including Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom, the soccer team, and Rainbow Dash, who had been talking to Fluttershy and Rarity.

“We know you all want to do your bit for our animal pals,” said Cheese. “ ‘How can I help our dumb chums?’ you think. Well, here is an easy and, we dare say, an entertaining means to do that very thing!”

“The Fred the Happy Killer Whale Dunk Tank!” they chorused.

“That’s right!” chirped Pinkie. “For just a teeny tiny investment of three dollars, you can help the animals and get maximum fun! My lovely assistant Cheesie here will demonstrate!”

Cheese swept his hat off with a bow, and then circled around to the back of the tank and climbed the ladder. Pinkie rummaged in the cardboard box, and withdrew two collection boxes and a basket of softballs as Cheese edged out onto the seat projecting over the tank of water, which, even on this hot day, looked very cold indeed.

“For three, count ‘em, three dollars, you can buy three throws!” cried Pinkie. “Place your dollars in the red box if you want to benefit the Canterlot Animal Rescue Center, or in the green box if you want your money to go towards whale habitats that will make Fred the Happy Killer Whale smile! Or split it up between them! It’s entirely up to you! Then,” she said, as she took up a position in front of the tank, “you aim your ball ever so carefully and . . .”

The crowd leaned forward.

“And did I mention,” she went on, turning away, as the crowd groaned in disappointment, “anyone who volunteers to sit on the seat for half an hour or more gets a plushie killer whale?”

“Given to them in person by the lovely young lady in green!” cried Cheese.

Fluttershy blushed scarlet as Pinkie rummaged in the box and held up a small stuffed killer whale. “That’s half an hour!” Pinkie shrieked. “Only half an hour of your time and a dip or two in the nice cool water! SO,” she went on, turning back into place, “as I was saying, you aim your ball ever so carefully, and . . .”

She squinted and stuck her tongue out as she concentrated. Then she hurled the ball sharply at the target, there was a loud clanging sound, and Cheese plummeted straight into the depths of the water.

He was down there for a long time.

A very, very long time. His boater floated forlornly on the surface of the tank.

Then he rocketed straight up, spitting out a jet of water and grabbing his hat. The crowd applauded as he climbed out of the tank.

“And that’s all there is to it, ladies and germs!” cried Pinkie. “Three little dollars for three throws, and half an hour for a plushie from Flitterbye here! Who’s first?”

A forest of masculine arms were thrust into the air, forestalled by a loud “YEAHHHH!” from the back of the crowd. Fluttershy sighed in relief as she realized that the first plushie would be given to her cousin Snowy, who wouldn’t mind a few dips and wasn’t scary at all.

Cheese squelched his way over to Pinkie as a puppet show started up on the small stage. His hair was plastered to his head, and water ran off him and pooled around his feet. “I’m wet,” he announced. “I’m changing into something dry, or at least something drier. I’ll be back in a bit. Be careful, ok?” He squelched off in the direction of a hanging canvas sheet serving as a curtain screening his backpack, his accordion, and miscellaneous supplies.

“Hey!” Pinkie shouted, scurrying after him. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think I mean? It’s a big event, and there are a lot of people here, and a lot of nasty things have happened to you lately. I’m just saying you should be careful.”

“You’re the one who just almost blew his lungs out with helium and then nearly drowned,” she pointed out.

“Pfft,” said Cheese, removing his outer shirt and twisting it, squeezing out a lot of water. “I just took a bigger hit of helium than I was expecting, and I stayed down longer than you were expecting. Nobody slashed my tires, or put my aunt’s car out of commission, or tried to kidnap me. And I certainly wasn’t the one who fell out of the grid and nearly got killed.”

“Hey!” Pinkie protested. “That could have been you, y’know!”

“That,” Cheese retorted, paused, and went on in a more thoughtful tone, “is a pretty good point. How could whoever did that have known it would be you and not me who would be working in the grid, or which of us would grab that girder? Either this person doesn’t know, and maybe wasn’t even aiming at either of us, or this person doesn’t care who gets hurt at all. Either way, that’s a really dangerous attitude, so like I said, be careful.” He slipped behind the curtain.

Pinkie didn’t leave, however. “In case you didn’t notice,” she said to the canvas curtain, “I took care of myself just fine!”

The curtain just mumbled something, and Cheese’s outer shirt appeared, draped over the curtain rope.

“I don’t need to be shielded from everything, Cheesie. I can manage. And if I have to be careful, you have to promise to be careful, too.”

Cheese’s Tshirt joined his outer shirt.

“I mean, I know you’re probably kinda paranoid, what with your mom and all, but everybody’s not out to get you or me, either.”

“For crying out loud, Pinkie,” Cheese snapped, “I’m trying to change my pants back here!”

“So what?” said Pinkie. “I mean, duh, I’ve taken health class, no biggie.”

There was no response from the curtain, except for a snort of irritation.

“I do appreciate it, though,” Pinkie went on. “I mean, not everyone understands like you do, and I guess I’m pretty lucky that we’re bipolar buddies.”

There was utter silence from behind the curtain, and then “three . . .two . . .one,” sounding as though it had been spoken through gritted teeth. All at once, Cheese thrust his head through the curtain. His hair was midway through drying, and bristled with uneven puffs and tufts of curl. This, added to his annoyed expression, made him appear to be almost deranged.

“No, Pinkie,” he snarled, “I am not your ‘bipolar buddy,’ and I am not your friend and I don’t like you—”

Pinkie’s lips quivered. Cheese went on, “—because we both have bipolar disorder! Good Gouda! Do you have any idea how—how awful and insulting that sounds? I don’t know about you, but I’m not just a chunk of bipolar disorder. I’m Cheese Sandwich, and you’re Pinkie Pie. Do you know how many people I’ve met with bipolar disorder? Plenty. And not a single one of them could make balloons float without helium or run through walls, or do this.” He stretched his arm out through the curtain and began to juggle one-handed, then suddenly said, “ah, Stilton,” and dove back through the curtain. “The only people I’ve met who can do that are you and me, and I don’t care what my mother says; that’s a gift. It’s not a disease. Now will you please just go away and let me finish changing my pants?”

Pinkie didn’t go away, however. Instead, she looked down at the ground and scuffed it with her shoe. “I don’t understand,” she said. Everything about her drooped: her hair, her facial expression, and her puffy skirt. “Aren’t we still friends?” she asked plaintively.

Cheese quickly poked his head through the curtain. “Yes! Yes, of course we are! But I don’t like you because we’re sick, whatever that means, or even because you can do all those amazing things.” He looked straight into her eyes, deeply and steadily. “Take all those things away, and I’d still like you and I’d still really want to be your friend, because you’re bright, and friendly, and funny, and sweet. Because you’re Pinkie, and that’s enough.”

They stood there for a moment, completely still, and then Trixie arrived, her starry hat already poised on her head and her cape snapping. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has a bone to pick with you,” she began.

“Trixie,” said Cheese, “this isn’t a good time.”

“Maximally awkward,” agreed Pinkie. “Cheesie doesn’t have any pants on.” Cheese hastily withdrew back through the curtain.

Trixie raised her eyebrows. “I see,” she huffed. “Well, when he’s not busy, will you please inform him that it’s come to my attention that the Great and Powerful Trixie’s act is on opposite the cake judging contests. In other words, it’s in direct competition with the main event of the festival, and Trixie is not pleased. I demand that the act be moved to a more important location at a better time. I’ll expect to speak with him in person immediately. Trixie’s act is supposed to begin in fifteen minutes.” She swept away.

“Is she gone?” queried Cheese.

“Yep,” said Pinkie, “but she looked kinda crabbycakes to me.”

Cheese slid back the curtain. He was now fully dressed in his favorite yellow shirt. His hair had sprung back into its usual shape—curly, with a long forelock curiously like Pinkie’s—and he had strapped his accordion onto his chest. “I wish she would talk to you instead,” he complained. “Sometimes Trixie gives me the creeps. She glares at me, and I feel as though I just dodged a bullet or a goose walked over my grave.”

“Aw, she’s just jealous ‘cause I have an awesome assistant and she doesn’t,” Pinkie said, patting his back. “But you’d better go over and talk to her anyway, because she’ll listen to you, and anyway I have to go over to the cake tent and check that everything’s perfect for the cake judging. Mr. Cake’s probably super-nervous right now and Trixie’s right—it is the most important thing in the festival. Bye!” And she scampered off to the cake tent.

Cheese took a deep breath or two, and then walked over to where Trixie was standing, next to the small stage. He coughed, and she half turned and raised one eyebrow, as though he wasn’t worth the trouble of raising two.

The puppeteer was dressed as a really improbable monster, talking to and manipulating pony marionettes. It was impossible to talk over the shrieks of the children’s laughter, so Cheese indicated with his head a spot some distance from the stage, and Trixie reluctantly followed.

“Trixie demands . . .” began Trixie.

“I heard what Trixie demands,” said Cheese, “and Trixie can’t have it. Hear me out,” he continued quickly. “Yes, the cake judging is going on at the same time as your act, but just because it’s important doesn’t mean it’s going to be popular. Mr. and Mrs. Cake slicing tiny chunks out of the contestants’ cakes and handing them to a panel of judges and watching them taste them isn’t exactly gripping entertainment. It’s definitely not as exciting as it was getting the cakes to the display stands in the first place. Plenty of people will get bored and come out of the tent to see what else is going on, and you’ll have a decent-sized audience.”

“Why can’t Trixie perform on the big stage?”

Cheese sighed. “Because it’s being used all day,” he said, pulling his clipboard out of his hair so he could show her the schedule. “The apron promenade and costume contest is on at noon, and then there’s a classical group, right when almost everyone is going to want lunch, and then the Wondertones are on at two. And if Pinkie really hated you, Trixie, she’d have put you opposite the Wondertones, because everyone’s going to be watching them, except for the little kids decorating cakes.”

“Oh, yes,” said Trixie, rolling her eyes. “No one would choose to be opposite the Wondertones.”

“Pinkie did,” Cheese pointed out. “She’s going to be in the cake tent, decorating cakes with the kids. She’ll enjoy herself, but she’s also going to miss watching her friends perform. Pinkie is not your enemy, Trixie. Neither am I.”

Trixie chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “You’re doing this to thwart Trixie.”

“No,” Cheese insisted.

“You’re doing this because you think Trixie’s act is terrible,” said Trixie, and tears stood in her eyes.

Cheese smacked his palm over his eyes. “Roquefort. No, I don’t think your act is terrible! Trixie, we had to think about the whole festival! It isn’t just about you! Can you comprehend that? It’s nothing personal.”

Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing personal. You and Pinkie. Nothing personal. Really?”

Cheese hesitated, and then said firmly, “No. It’s strictly professional. And you’re on in five. Now go,” he said, pointing towards the stage, and added, “go kill ‘em out there, ok?”

Trixie spun around, adjusted her hat with a small, secret smirk, and strode off to start her performance.

Cheese stowed his clipboard, put on an Alpine hat, and scanned the grounds. No signs of trouble, and everything seemed to be going well. No doubt Pinkie had the cake tent and the food tent under control, so there really wasn’t any need to check in there immediately. He made a quick circuit of the grounds—something he and Pinkie had agreed he’d do at this point of the day. The apron trimming was going well. Soarin was occupying the dunk tank and making frequent splashdowns, as Rainbow Dash roared with laughter. More festival goers were trickling in; more of the vendors had arrived and were setting up, including Pete’s Pies. He did a little juggling here, played a bit of music there, and firmly admonished Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo that they mustn’t inhale helium. Everything was going pretty well as he finished his round back at the small stage, and he prepared to relax for a moment or two before—

“Hello,” a voice breathed directly into his ear.

Cheese jumped a foot into the air, twisting around at the same time, and on landing, found himself face to face with Sunset Shimmer. “Um,” he said, “hello?”

The former unicorn pushed her heavy tresses behind her shoulders and stretched her arms above her head. She’d left off her heavy black jacket and boots on this hot summer day. “It’s nice to get out of the library,” she said.

“Yes,” Cheese agreed, his eyes darting back and forth as though looking for an escape. “I guess it would be. Seriously, though, what made you decide to come?”

“Oh, a lot of things,” she said, waving her hand as she walked past him. “And if you do want me to be serious,” she murmured, “I have the feeling that you might want me to be here sooner or later.”

“Are you psychic?”

“No,” Sunset replied. “I’m just sensible. A lot of things have been going on and a lot of them have been happening to Pinkie, and a lot of people are going to be here. There’s always the possibility that something could go wrong.” She moved towards the stage, where Trixie was nearing the close of her performance.

“That’s what I said!” exclaimed Cheese, jogging up behind her. “But I still don’t know why that means you wanted to be here.”

She turned towards him again, her face an unreadable mask. “I’m concerned,” she said. “And also, I was curious. I wanted to see what the two of you had been doing.” She smiled, almost shyly.

Cheese broke into a grin. “Well, in that case,” he said, offering his arm, “allow me!”

He switched to a top hat, and she slid her arm through his, but almost immediately stopped again in front of Trixie and the stage.

Things were not going well. Several of the children were bawling. “Stop it!” snapped Trixie. “How can you watch in awe if you won’t stop crying?” Tricks she had performed without a hitch at the auditions were going entirely wrong, and as they did, Trixie became more and more irritated, in a horrendous feedback loop. Meanwhile, off to the side, two people in hoodies were jeering:

“Seen it! Same old tricks!”

“Yeah, uh—what he said! Old same tricks!”

“Old Trixie tricks!”

Onstage, Trixie fumed. Sunset Shimmer knitted her brows, her eyes fixed upon the sizzling ends of ropes and linking rings that were beginning to join themselves together with a threatening “ksskh.” “Hmmm,” she said.

In desperation, Cheese made a very rude, very biological, and very realistic noise. All the children watching, including the crying ones, immediately stopped what they were doing to figure out which of them had made it. It was just enough to distract the audience, and Trixie pulled herself together. Meanwhile, Cheese produced a large vaudevillian hook and quickly removed the hecklers while Trixie finished off her act, triumphantly pulling out an entire line of tiny blue unicorn dolls from the interior of her hat.

“Ta-da!” she proclaimed, and flourished her cape. There was a flash and a loud bang, and Trixie almost immediately disappeared behind a thick gray cloud that settled over the audience and made them cough.

Cheese leaned over and whispered to the hoodie-wearing hecklers, “You should thank me. Did either of you think what would happen if Trixie found out who heckled her?”

Snips and Snails turned so pale that their features could be seen deep inside their hoods. Cheese patted their backs. “Never mind. I’d leave now, if I were you. In fact, I’d suggest joining a good witness protection program.” They nodded and tore for the exit.

“Perhaps we should move along,” suggested Sunset Shimmer.

“Let’s,” agreed Cheese, and he continued their tour of the festival.

Sunset Shimmer shook her head. “She has just enough of the wrong sort of magic to cause a great deal of trouble without meaning to,” she said. “I knew a few unicorns like that at home. Normally, I’d say there wasn’t a chance of her causing trouble here, because there’s so little magic, but now—I don’t know. There are a lot of weak portals and magical leaks. It’s dangerous.”

They stopped in front of the main stage and watched as Rarity shepherded amateur models who were demonstrating wildly decorated aprons and fashionable culinary wear that clearly wasn’t meant to get anywhere near a kitchen. Some appeared never to have been on a stage before, but Rarity made sure each contestant passed in front of the panel of judges, struck a pose or two, and didn’t accidentally wander into the wings. She was much too busy to talk, but gave Cheese a reassuring wink.

“Does it ever feel strange to be talking about ‘the unicorns back home’?” Cheese asked.

“No, not really,” said Sunset, “I don’t think I’ll ever really belong anywhere anymore, but that really doesn’t bother me.” Her eye fell on Flash Sentry, nervously going through his music at the side of the stage. “No,” she said, her voice gone flat, “it really doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Sunset!” cried Pinkie, running up and bouncing up and down in front of her. “I’m so, so, so happy you decided to come! Here,” she added. “You need a balloon!” She pulled a balloon off her skirt, blew it up, tied a string to it, and handed it to Sunset. The balloon bobbed merrily overhead, completely unaware that it wasn’t supposed to be lighter than air. Pinkie bounced to Sunset’s other side and drew her arm through the other girl’s, so that Sunset was flanked on either side by party planners, both relentlessly determined for her to enjoy herself. On one side, Pinkie skipped, and on the other, Cheese strode with long steps, but somehow they were perfectly even as they gave their former tutor a VIP tour.

They checked Fluttershy’s table and the dunk tank. The soccer team had virtually taken over volunteering to sit in it. Soarin loudly announced that he wanted a matched set of at least three killer whale plushies, to the annoyance of several of the eco-kids who wanted a turn.

“Hey, give us a chance,” one complained, a kid with green dreadlocks stuffed under a knitted cap, who usually went by the name of Green Cycle. “We were into killer whales before it was cool!”

“Everything all right?” Cheese inquired, leaning over the table. Fluttershy turned to him, her face radiant.

“Oh, it’s wonderful!” she gushed. “Look at how much money is coming in for the animal rescue center—and for the whales, too!” She grabbed the clipboard and waved it at Pinkie. “And see how many people volunteered to help the animals at the center? I said I spent most of my summer working there and they signed right up! People are wonderful,” she said.

Pinkie and Cheese exchanged glances. Fluttershy was naturally very attractive anyway. The delicate new hairpiece Rarity had given her caught the eye; her face was flushed and her eyes were glowing. Telling her that all those volunteers weren’t really interested in the animals, but in her, would have spoiled her day, so they didn’t.

“And cousin Snowy’s been sitting here the whole time,” she added, “so I feel nice and safe . . .”
Her sentence trailed off, and her eyes traveled across the festival grounds to where a group of teenagers in Cloudsdale Prep varsity jackets were coming in. Lightning Dust’s spiky blond hair was unmistakable, even at this distance.

“I’m sure they’re just here to have a nice time,” she murmured.

“Yes, indeedily!” Pinkie agreed. “Don’t you worry, Fluttershy. We’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you.”

“It’s . . . it’s not me that. . .” Fluttershy stammered. Then she squared her shoulders. “I won’t let her ruin things this time,” she stated. She dropped her voice and leaned over the table. “Try not to let Snowy know she’s here,” she begged. “He’s scared of her, too.”

They strolled over to the balloon station. Pinkie sat down and blew some balloons, while Cheese played a polka or two. “What do you think, Pinkie?”

“Well,” Pinkie replied, pausing frequently to blow up balloons, “we can’t do anything unless they cause trouble, and I don’t think they will, but maybe someone should keep an eye on them, and—”

“And I’m the guy for the job,” said Cheese. “Have accordion, will stalk. Got it.” He removed the top hat, put on a film noir detective hat, thought about it for a moment, and then removed that, too. He closed his accordion and snapped it shut. “Are you hungry? Because I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” retorted Pinkie, sliding off her stool, but she gladly led the way to the food tent. Granny Smith was supervising feeding a large crowd, and the lines were very long, but Apple Bloom, who was helping, slipped them some plates.

“Why aren’t you off having fun, Apple Bloom?” Pinkie asked her.

“I will—it’s just that helping Granny is fun, too.” Her eyes lit up. “She’s never let me help so much before, and Applejack is too busy not to let me, and I’m really enjoying it!” She scampered off to work at the booth, looking important.

“I know what she means!” said Pinkie, and then they devoted their attention to eating. Throughout their tour, Sunset had been subjected to a lot of curious stares. This was especially noticeable as they sat at a table and ate, but slowly everyone seemed to take the attitude that if Pinkie and Cheese were ok with Sunset, they had no problems with her being there either. After some extensive hands-on research, all three agreed that there was nothing wrong with the food.

“Let’s check on the cake tent!” Pinkie exclaimed, jumping straight up from the table as though there were no bench or table surface in the way. Her gait was slowly becoming more and more of a bounce, as though she were made out of rubber. Cheese followed with Sunset Shimmer. “You’re gonna love it, Sunny, it’s got all the best stuff and this girl brought this scrummilicious orange cake all the way from Manehattan and she won a prize, and it turns out she brought her teacher with her, who’s a famous pastry chef, and he has his own school, and he liked the Cakes and gave them his card, so that was way super amazing, and uh-oh,” she finished, as they noticed raised voices coming from the cake tent. She gestured for them to follow her around the back of the tent, and they cautiously stuck their heads into the tent one by one to see what was going on.

Mr. Cake stood in front of a large, glossy cake. It looked slightly too shiny, as though it were made of plastic. Behind the cake stood a sullen-looking man with a five o’ clock shadow. His apron didn’t appear to have been washed in weeks.

“And that’s the final decision, is it?” he growled.

“Yes,” said Mr. Cake. “I’m afraid it is. None of the judges even gave your cake passing marks. You can see the sheets yourself if you don’t believe me.” Three judges, seated at a table in the corner, nodded their head in agreement.

The man snatched the sheets. “What was the problem?”

Mr. Cake hesitated. “There seem to be a lot of additives in your cake. In fact, there’s a lot of stuff that isn’t even really food.”

“That against the rules, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Mr. Cake replied, “but the judges thought it tasted awful.”
The man behind the cake snorted. It was really difficult to imagine that he was a baker. He looked more like hired muscle. Mr. Cake clearly thought so too, because he gulped. “Pfft,” said the would-be baker, “no one can tell what’s in it.”

“The judges could tell,” Mr. Cake pointed out, “and so could I. In fact,” he added, standing a little straighter, “we all thought it tasted awful.”

The cake goon leaned over his cakelike object and subjected Mr. Cake to a nasty glare. Mr. Cake leaned in and glared back. Then the muscle-bound pâtissier grabbed his entry, taking care not to get any of the frosting in his arm hair, and marched out of the tent. Mr. Cake swayed slightly, took a deep breath, and his wife bustled up and told him to go sit down and put his head between his knees while she finished the competition.

Pinkie withdrew her head and frowned. “That’s super-creepy,” she said.

“No kidding,” agreed Cheese. “Where’s he going?”

They circled around the tent and peeked around it, just in time to see the confectionary hooligan drop the cake on the Pete’s Pies table. “That’s funny,” said Pinkie. “I thought that was for pies.”

They all stopped and looked over at the Pete’s Pies table, where a long line of customers stood waiting for free samples.

“That doesn’t look like pie they’re handing out,” Cheese said slowly. “That looks a lot more like bits of cake to me.”

They drew closer to the table. Diamond Tiara was ensconced on a comfortable chair, petting her coughing little Chihuahua. A butler stood behind her with a parasol. The supposed chef came up to her with a deferential cringe. “Anything I can get for you, Miss Diamond?”

“Not right now, Branson,” she replied, feeding her Chihuahua some cake. “I suppose you want to smoke. It’s a filthy habit, but if you want to kill yourself, I’m not going to stop you.”

“You want that I should wait with the car?”

Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes. “No,” she said with a huff, “because Daddy may need you. We’ve been over all of this before. Just smoke, if you must, stand by, and wait for instructions. Ew!” she added, as her Chihuahua’s snack came back up. The butler hastened to clear it away.

Two of the would-be samplers passed by, nibbling as they walked. One of them made a face. “Uk,” he said.

“I know,” said the other. “I guess when something goes corporate, it’s just never going to be the same, is it? Still, it’ll be cheaper, so that’s a good thing.”

His companion snorted. “So I can buy twice as much of something I don’t like? I don’t think so.”

They dropped the wrappers on the ground. Pinkie leaned down to pick one up and Cheese bent at the knees so he could reach the other.

The wrappers read, “SUGARCUBE’S.”

Pinkie turned scarlet. She was clearly building up a head of steam, and while her wrath was speechless right now, it wouldn’t be in a moment. Cheese dragged her behind the tent and slapped his hand over her mouth.

“Mphm!” said Pinkie.

“I KNOW,” agreed Cheese, “but you can’t just go out there and tell them that!”

“Why that’s a, a, a rotten, stinky, super-mean, awful thing to do!” protested Pinkie. “And it’s so UNFAIR!”

“Yeah, I KNOW,” said Cheese, “but let’s think what to do first.”

“I’m gonna follow them and—oh,” Pinkie said, suddenly sitting on the ground. She leaned her chin in her hands, elbows on her knees. “I just remembered where I saw that big mean guy before. And I better not let him see me, ‘cause the last time I saw him, I kicked him in the pants and he’s probably still mad about it.”

“In the pants?” asked Sunset, who looked as though she was having a hard time following all of this.

“In the front part of his pants,” Pinkie explained, and Cheese winced. “I think it made him cranky.”

“Well, you can’t follow him. That’s out,” said Cheese, “so I’ll have to . . . wait, I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on Lightning Dust. I should be doing it now. Edam! I really wish there were more of me.”

“Me too,” Pinkie said mournfully, “because the Cakes need my help and the decorating’s gonna start any minute and the Wondertones will need you to check the sound system and . . .”

“Ok, let’s think,” he said. “We need someone reliable who can keep an eye on the cupcake situation.”

“You callin’ for someone reliable, Slim?” said Applejack. “You two ain’t exactly subtle. I saw you from the food tent and figured something was up. So I followed you and I heard most of what you said.”

“Applejack!” squealed Pinkie, jumping straight up and launching herself into her cousin’s arms, knocking the breath out of her. “I knew you’d help!”

“Someone tries kidnapping my cousin, who’s also my best friend? You better believe I’ll keep an eye on them. And if that no-good snatcher lays another finger on you, Pinkie, he’s in for a world of pain.”

“Ee-yup,” agreed Big Mac, who could move very quietly when he wanted to.

“OK,” said Cheese, “I’m going to pretend this sudden family meeting doesn’t give me the creeps and just be grateful.” Applejack glared at him, then everyone turned to Sunset, the one real stranger in the group.

Sunset said slowly, “ I don’t think I can be of much help, but I will if I’m needed.”

Pinkie stood up, all business. “Right! So I’ll go help the Cakes and Cheesie’ll go help the Wondertones, and you’ll watch that cupcake stand and Big Mac’ll keep an eye out for Mister McMeanypants—no, wait,” Pinkie said, and frowned. “You have to sing with the Wondertones, don’t you?” Big Mac nodded. “Ok, then, the second the Wondertones act is over, you keep an eye out for Mister McMeanypants, and meanwhile, Cheesie’ll have to do it, and we’ll try and find Rainbow Dash and she can watch Lightning Dust—no, wait,” Pinkie corrected herself again. “Maybe that’s a bad idea. Cheesie, you’ll have to do that too, ok? Ready, everybody?” She held out her hand, and everyone laid his or her hand on top of hers. “Go!”

They raised their hands, and the impromptu Cake Festival Security Force broke up.

As Cheese had predicted to Trixie, almost everyone was watching the Wondertones between two and three, with the result that very little happened. The soccer team continued to cluster around Fluttershy’s booth and the dunk tank. Cheese kept an eye out for Lightning Dust, but although her hair made her easy to spot, she seemed to be minding her own business, and on the one occasion he’d actually met her, she’d seemed perfectly polite. In fact, the entire Cloudsdale soccer team was behaving itself very well, which was more than could be said of the Canterlot team, so he relaxed his guard slightly.

The Wondertones concert concluded to wild applause. Cheese put on a nice, inconspicuous boater, and started to make another circuit of the grounds, playing the accordion, pulling out party horns, and playing pranks as needed, while watching for Lightning Dust, cake goons, and other assorted forms of trouble. Before he got very far, however, he was stopped by the Great and Powerful Trixie.

“Trixie is very grateful,” she announced, with a keen violet stare, “and wants to know how she can help.”

“That’s nice,” he replied, attempting a fist bump, and then thinking better of it. “Have you considered smiling more? Because the intensity is getting kind of spooky. Listen, Trix, I’m just slammed here, but if you really want to help, go to the big stage and help Flash in the Pan set up for their act. I don’t think they’ve performed in public for a while, and I’m not convinced that they know what they’re doing. Ok?”

“You may rely on the backstage know-how of the Great and Powerful Trixie!” she exclaimed, and she disappeared in the crowd.

In the cake tent, Pinkie had just set up the cake eating contest and was waiting for the contestants to check in so that she could start announcing. Donut Joe had volunteered to act as the judge, since he’d run many a donut eating challenge over the years. Mr. and Mrs. Cake stood ready to bring more cake as needed. A lot of people wanted to compete, it seemed: Bulk Biceps, Soarin, Rainbow Dash, some of the Wondercolts, a few tourists, and even some of the Cloudsdale soccer team. It was going to take a while to register them all. As she waited, she caught a whiff of expensive aftershave, and a deep, Southern-tinged voice murmured in her ear, “May I have a moment of your attention, Miss Pie?”

“Uh, no,” she said, “this is really a super-bad time, because . . .” Suddenly, she recognized the voice and whirled around. “Filthy Rich!”

He stood there in an immaculate white three-piece suit, a Panama hat held over his heart. “I just wanted to apologize for my chauffeur the other day. Evidently he does not comprehend the subtlety involved in a polite, and I stress, a polite invitation. I told him that your direct form of refusal met with my full approval. I would expect my Diamond to do the same. I was hoping,” he went on, “to provide you with a very advantageous business proposition, which you have every right to decline, although I think I might just persuade you that accepting it would be the wisest thing to do.”

Pinkie bristled and stood on tiptoe in an attempt to glare at him more directly. “Hello? Do you understand ‘super-bad time?’” she said, switching to bouncing up and down. “I’m about to announce the cake-eating contest and I couldn’t talk to you right now even if I wanted to, which I don’t, because I don’t talk to people who break my boss’s car and slash my bicycle tires and try to kidnap me and almost get me killed, because I don’t like people like that and I don’t want them to be my friends!”

Filthy Rich furrowed his eyebrows. “Forgive me again, Miss Pie, but I just apologized for what you are referring to as a kidnapping attempt, although such was far from my intention. I have no knowledge of the particulars of the other circumstances you are alluding to.”

“And what’s more, I . . . wait, you don’t?” said Pinkie. Her jaw dropped. She closed it with her own hand.

“Absolutely none,” he said, shaking his head.

“Then what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Your fine cupcake making skills, honey. Now I believe the competition is about to start, so I’ll just wait until you have a moment or two.” He smiled and withdrew to the back of the tent.

The contestants settled in, and Pinkie threw herself into the announcing as much as possible, considering the distracting circumstances.

“Good afternoon, Canterlottians, and welcome to the annual Cake Festival Cake Eating Competition! On the bench, we have—wow, we have a lot of you! But we’ve also got tons of scrummy cake for you guys, so that’s ok, and we’re gonna see how much cake you can eat in ten minutes!”

She read out the list of contestants. “Okey-dokey-lokey! Now here are the rules. No using your hands. Keep ‘em behind your back! No just shoving the cake around with your face; if you’ve still got it in your cheeks when we blow the whistle, it doesn’t count; and we’re measuring how much cake you ate by weight, guys, so it could take a little while to figure out the winner, but it’s the only way it’s fair! Oh, yeah—and if you barf the cake back up, you’re disqualified. Is everybody ready? On your marks—get set—GO!”

“And it’s Rainbow Dash and Soarin neck and neck—or should it be face and face?—anyhoo, they’re face down in their first plate, which is a super yummy yellow cake with white buttercream frosting and that’s nice ‘cause it’ll wash right out after the contest is over, and Mr. Coconut Seed is doing pretty good there—all the way from Manehattan, huh?—and Rainbow Dash is on her second plate, but now Soarin is too, and we got Fleetfoot chowin’ down, and Heath Burns is WAY out in front but I think he’s losing steam, and—whoops, Bulk Biceps just passed out in his frosting, poor Bulky, he’ll be ok once we hose him down, and wow, Dashie is on her fourth plate and Mr. Seed’s right behind her and Soarin’s moving fast, but I don’t think he can keep up—!”

During all ten minutes of this exciting commentary, Mr. Rich stood just at the back of the tent, waiting.

“And it’s Rainbow Dash and Soarin—and Mr. Seed—and Soarin, and Rainbow Dash—and TIME!” She blew the whistle. “Okey-dokey, Donut Joe’s gotta weigh all the cake left on the plates and figure stuff out, so it’s gonna be a few minutes until we know who won!” She walked up to Mrs. Cake. “I have to go and talk to someone for a sec, but I’m gonna be just outside, Mrs. Cake, so when we’re ready to give the prizes, just come get me, ok?”

Filthy Rich gestured towards the tent flap, and she stalked past him without even looking at him. As soon as they were a few yards from the tent, she hissed, “What was all THIS about?” as she waved the “SUGARCUBE’S” cupcake wrapper in front of him.

Filthy Rich didn’t appear at all embarrassed. If anything, he looked pleased. “I see you have heard of my products after all, Miss Pie!”

“Your products?” Pinkie shot back, her voice zooming up in pitch. “YOUR products?”

“Why, yes.” Filthy Rich removed a packet of breath mints from the interior of his suit jacket and offered one to Pinkie. She silently refused. He took one, and went on, looking into the sky as if he saw clouds of money. “See, in the circles I frequent, we sometimes talk about fads and whether they’re worth investing in, and some of my acquaintances said they thought that cupcakes were through. I laid a rather large wager that they were not.” He turned and looked at Pinkie. “You ought to be proud of helping me win that bet, Miss Pie, because the increase in foot traffic into the Sugarcube’s bakery in the last few months has been extraordinary. I’d have to look at the sales figures to know for sure, and I’m not sure your employers do as much cost-cutting as they ought to, but I’d say gross sales must have spiked. I sent a few of my employees to sample those cupcakes, and let me tell you, I was impressed.”

Pinkie tried to interrupt him, but he silenced her with his hand. “Now, I can’t say we’ve quite managed to reproduce your cupcakes, but we have managed to come up with something fairly similar and considerably cheaper. We can offer those cupcakes at half the price you’re selling them for at Sugarcube’s, and the best part is, they’re shelf-stable. You can eat one of our little gems months later and it’ll have kept like you bought it yesterday. We think they’ll do very nicely when we roll them out nationally.”

“With the Sugarcube’s name, which you stole, and my cupcakes, which you stole!” Pinkie squeaked, stamping her foot.

Filthy Rich bent down so that his face was closer to Pinkie’s and smiled again. “I think maybe you misunderstand some very basic principles of intellectual property law, sweet child. Your admirable employers never trademarked the Sugarcube’s name. It was free as anything for me to use when I registered it for Rich Enterprises. Oh, they could file a counter-claim and all kinds of foofaw, but they’d need a good lawyer, which I have, and they do not, and a pile of money, which I, humbly speaking, do, and they do not, and there’s not much time until it’s final. So unless I mistake, it’s the Cakes who will be using the Sugarcube’s name without my permission, and I will, with the greatest regret possible, have to ask them to change the name, or go out of business, or perhaps they’d care to sell the coffeehouse to me.” He straightened up again. “I probably could use a storefront presence, and I am wide open to negotiation.”

“That’s—that’s awful!”

“That’s business, honey lump. It may not be nice, but it’s legal, and I can’t help it if the Cakes have been naïve. However, I do have a proposition for you, which may settle this all sweet and pleasant for everybody. See, I can’t quite get those things to taste right.”

“That’s because you use awful stuff to make them,” said Pinkie, crossing her arms, “and it’s your own fault if people don’t like them.”

Filthy Rich laughed. “You think people notice? Didn’t you just announce an eating contest in there? Bless your heart, that’s the way most people eat—just stuff it in their mouths and run. They couldn’t tell the difference between a good cupcake and a bad cupcake if you paid them to. But I don’t think it’s just about the ingredients. No, when I had my test kitchens try them with premium ingredients, they still didn’t have that certain something.”

“What?” said Pinkie, uncrossing her arms and tilting her head.

“You, Miss Pie. I am convinced that somewhere in that sweet fluffy pink head of yours”—he patted her cheek— “there’s some kind of cupcake wizard. In fact, a superstitious man might call it magic, and I am very superstitious, honey, most gamblers are, and that’s what investment really is. You come on in on the ground floor with me and you can make a bundle. The Cakes can even keep running the bakery, as long as I own it. Otherwise, well . . . if the Cakes lose the business, where exactly does that leave you? I don’t believe in deals made on a handshake, meaning no offense to your integrity, so I’ve drawn up an agreement for you right here.” He handed her a sheaf of legal-sized paper. “I’ll just keep the duplicate for you,” he added, showing a similar document in his jacket pocket. “Now, I see your lady boss is approaching and I have taken up a lot of your time, and I want to thank you for your considerate hearing, and I’ll be hoping to hear your answer by—let’s say, Monday morning? And I wish you a pleasant evening.”

He bowed with his Panama over his heart again, placed it on his head, and sauntered off. Mrs. Cake called, “Pinkie? We’ve been waiting for you! Come on in and announce the winners!”

Pinkie nodded, but she stood there for a moment or two more. “No, Mr. Rich,” she whimpered. “I want to say no.” Then she turned, put on a bright smile, and went back into the tent.

Quite a crowd had collected around the animal rescue booth and the dunk tank. By now, both the small stage and the cake tent events were over, and only the concert with Flash in the Pan remained. “Sorry, Soarin, I won,” bragged Rainbow Dash, socking him playfully in the arm, “and I get the dunk tank. ‘Shy,” she called, “get out those boxes. I’ve got a lot of frosting to wash off.” She climbed up the ladder and swung herself out onto the tank’s platform.

“You’ve all eaten much too much cake,” scolded Fluttershy. “Poor Snowy is feeling very sick.”

“Yeahhh,” moaned Bulk Biceps, who was seated next to Fluttershy.

“Ah, I’m fine,” said Dash. “Get ready to collect, ‘Shy, cause I’ve got the feeling there are a lotta people who want to see Rainbow Dash go down. AM I RIGHT?” she yelled, pumping her arms. The crowd in front of the tank roared its approval.

“Oh, dear,” murmured Rarity. “I’m afraid some of them really do.” Cheese Sandwich jogged up to Rarity’s boutique table. “I haven’t seen you all day, Cheese. Where have you been?”

“Following her,” he panted, removing his deerstalker and jerking his head. Rarity looked in the direction he’d indicated and saw Lightning Dust lounging quietly on the other side of the balloon stand.

“She’s been really good at staying out of sight,” he said. “And every time I catch up to her, she’s been behaving herself. I don’t even know much about her, to tell the truth. I’m just keeping an eye on her because Pinkie asked me to, and Pinkie’s the boss.”

“Evidently,” murmured Rarity, with a hidden quirk of her mouth.

“Fluttershy says she was at school with her and Rainbow Dash,” he said, unstrapping his accordion, “and that ‘she wasn’t very nice,’ and coming from Fluttershy, that probably means she was a lot more than ‘not nice,’ but I have no idea why.”

Rarity frowned. “Truly? You don’t? Oh, yes,” she went on. “I was forgetting that you weren’t there for what we shall call the ‘stable goat incident.’ ”

“What?”

More and more people had gathered around the tank to cheer on the people throwing balls, Rainbow Dash, or both. Scootaloo had worked her way to the front of the tank to watch her adoptive big sister, bringing her two best friends along with her, and her cheers were loudest of all. It was starting to be hard to hear over the cheers of the crowd, the frequent clang of the bell, and Rainbow Dash’s splashes into the tank, and Cheese had to lean close to hear Rarity.

“You may have heard Rainbow Dash call Pinkie her ‘good luck charm,’ ” Rarity explained. “I’m afraid she’s rather superstitious about it. When we were at the Cloudsdale game, we overheard Lightning Dust referring to Pinkie as Rainbow’s ‘stable goat.’ ”

Cheese’s face went dark. “That . . . Brie,” he said.

“Yes,” said Rarity, fussing with the glossy advertisements on her table, so that she did not have to look at Cheese. “It was rather . . . impolite. And having heard a bit more about it from Fluttershy, and having known Fluttershy longer than you have, I suspect that when she refers to Rainbow Dash’s and her past at Cloudsdale Prep as ‘not very nice,’ what she means is ‘utterly traumatizing.’ ”

“Oh,” Cheese said again, with the same grim expression on his face. “That would certainly explain a lot. Problem is, though, that I still don’t know what I’m looking out for. She hasn’t gone anywhere near Fluttershy all day.”

Rarity frowned. “Fluttershy said something about Dusty finding people’s weak spots. That’s all I know.”

“Maybe I should let Fluttershy know I’m here,” said Cheese. He tried to get Fluttershy’s attention, but she was too focused on watching Rainbow Dash. “Well, that’s a bust,” he said. “I’m a lousy bodyguard, anyway. She’s got Bulk Biceps right there. Hang on, though—Fluttershy said something about Bulk being scared of her, too. Why would Bulk be scared of anybody?”

A few tentative guitar notes coming from the speaker system could be heard over the clamor. Cheese winced and held his ear. “New guitar strings,” he complained. “He should have replaced them earlier, or at least stretched them out. He’s going to go out of tune all the way through the set if he can’t get that adjusted.” Pinkie appeared at Fluttershy’s table, immediately next to Rarity. “Oh, hey, Pinkie. How’s the contest go?”

Pinkie sat down on the table and pillowed her chin on her fists. “Not super-fantastic,” she admitted. “I mean, the contest went fantastic, ‘cause everybody ate a lot and Rainbow Dash won, but this part wasn’t so super fantastic. Mr. Rich wanted to talk to me, and he gave me this thing, and I have to go to work for him or the Cakes are in trouble.” She put the document Mr. Rich had given her down on the table.

“Let me see that, darling,” said Rarity, whipping out her reading glasses. She skimmed it quickly and gasped. “Do you mean to say that the Cakes have never trademarked ‘Sugarcube’s’?”

“I guess not,” she said. “I mean Mrs. Cake told me it was already called that when the Cakes bought it, so maybe they didn’t think to. Anyway, Mr. Rich’s company is copying my cupcakes and I have to work with him or the Cakes are in even bigger trouble, and right now I never want to bake another cupcake as long as I live.” Cheese blew a rollup noisemaker past her nose, and she smiled weakly. “Thanks. I needed that.”

Applejack appeared in the crowd, with Big Mac in tow, but they seemed to be having trouble getting to them. She waved frantically, and then shrugged her shoulders. “Great,” muttered Cheese. “They lost sight of the big guy who tried to kidnap Pinkie.”

“There’s too much going on,” Pinkie said, shaking her head. “I guess I’m not Pinkie Responsibility Pie after all.”

“Are you kidding?” exclaimed Cheese. “Admiral Fairweather couldn’t keep track of all of this!” More quavering guitar notes came out of the sound system. “Ugh!” he gagged, then sighed. “Oh, that’s better. No—that’s only because I can’t hear it anymore and that’s because the sound system is acting up!”

A loud cheer went up from the crowd as Rainbow Dash hauled herself up for the last time, completely soaked. She flicked her dripping bangs out of her eyes, held her arms over her head like a winning prizefighter, and vaulted off the platform. Fluttershy hugged her, despite her sodden clothing.

“Oh, Dashie,” she said, “you made so much money for the whales! I’m so proud! Here,” she said, rummaging in the box, and handed her two whale plushies. Dash held them over her head, shooting a glance at Soarin, who rolled his eyes, but applauded with everyone else.

The crowd began to disperse, and a few friends who hadn’t been able to get closer before came up towards the tank, pushing their way through the soccer teams who had been clustered in a tight ring. Scootaloo ran up to Rainbow Dash and gave her a hug. Dash handed her one of the whale plushies and bent over to tell her something, when she was interrupted by some slow clapping.

“Congratulations on yet another win,” said Lightning Dust.

Rainbow Dash lifted her head. “Thanks, I think?”

“Too bad it wasn’t the soccer championship,” Lightning Dust added, coming over to her. Soarin and the rest of the Wondercolts caught what she’d said, and stopped walking away.

Dash winced. “Yeah, well,” she choked out, “winning isn’t everything.”

“See now, that’s too bad, Dash,” said Lightning Dust, shaking her head. “Wasted talent. I could just about convince the Athletic Department at Cloudsdale to give you another chance, but not with that loser’s attitude. You need to toughen up.”

Fluttershy stopped packing things away, and turned to watch this exchange, her eyes getting wider and wider. “Hey!” Rainbow Dash shot back. “I’m tough!”

“Meh,” said Lightning Dust. “If you were, it wouldn’t be so easy to hit your weak spot and throw you off. I’ve been watching you all season, and every time I think of trying to get you back on the Cloudsdale team, you blow it.”

“Don’t ask, don’t ask,” Fluttershy begged under her breath.

Instead, Rainbow Dash said, “Heh. Uh—what are you talking about? What weak spot?”

Lightening Dust leaned in. “Weak people, Dash, weak people. You’re always jumping in to stick up for weaklings, and you get all attached and dependent on them. If they belong on the bottom, then that’s where they belong. You never learned this at Cloudsdale. There’s only one use a winner’s got for weakness, and that’s to find someone else’s and use it, and you make it so easy that it isn’t even fun to hit you where it hurts.”

Dash’s fists had started to clench. “Oh, yeah?” she snarled. “Throw a punch and you’ll be sorry you did.”

“I don’t have to throw a punch. I don’t even have to touch you. All I have to do,” she said, as she leaned a little closer, “is get you right. In. Here.” She poked Dash in the chest. “And you fold like a card table.”

“No!” gasped Fluttershy, and she scrambled right over Pinkie and grabbed Rarity. “She’s doing it again! I knew this would happen! Why didn’t someone keep her away from Dashie?”

“Dash?” said Cheese in confusion. “I thought she was trying to hurt you!” He looked over at Pinkie, who shrugged so hard that she windmilled her arms.

Flash in the Pan had given up on the bad sound system and begun their set. “Today we’re going to play some of your favorites,” announced Flash. “But first,” Cheese’s head whipped around in the direction of the main stage, “I’d like to play this song about a girl I met.” Cheese’s face contorted in horror, and he reached out towards the stage as though he could grab it and stop this musical disaster in the making, but it was futile.

“No, no, no!” said Fluttershy, pulled off Rarity’s little fascinator and throwing it on the table with angry tears. “It’s not me she hurts most—it’s Dashie!”

“I mean, I don’t even care about Miss Fluffernutter over there . . .”

“Oh, Purple Smart,” wailed Flash.

“ . . . or your airheaded little stable goat.”

“Did you almost get Pinkie killed? On purpose?” screamed Dash, pulling back her fist. Now everyone was paying attention, and the Wondercolts were poised, muscles tense.

“You fried a hole in my heart . . .”

“She hurts Dashie in the heart!” sobbed Fluttershy, her head on the table. “That’s why I learned not to cry if I could! She hurts Dashie right in the heart!” Bulk Biceps stared at Lightning Dust with an expression no one ever saw on his face—pure hatred.

Lightning Dust shrugged. “Metal fatigue, poor planning—you can’t prove it. But like I said, I don’t care about your stable goat; I was aiming for you. And it worked. You lost. And you would have lost the Comets game, too, if she hadn’t gotten there in time. Chubby little thing, isn’t she? You wouldn’t think she could run that fast, would you? I’d have thought slashing her bike tires would have been enough.”

Cheese, Pinkie, Fluttershy—everyone sitting at the table stared in horror, incapable of movement, except for Rarity, who was going through her purse.

“Oh, . . . urp . . . art. . .” droned Flash, as the sound system kicked in and out.

“What I don’t get,” Dusty went on, dropping her voice, “is why it’s always a pink haired girl.” Both Dash and Dust glanced from Fluttershy, to Pinkie, to Scootaloo, and for just a second, something like fear flickered across Rainbow Dash’s face. “I don’t know if they remind you of your mom or you have a thing for them or both or what, but it sure makes them easy to spot. If you want a bit of advice from a worthy opponent, I’d cut that loose if I were you. It’s getting to be a nasty habit.” She turned and walked away.

“Aha!” exclaimed Rarity.

The sound system cut off entirely. Lightning Dust turned back. “Always know where the weak spot is, Dash,” she said, and aimed a kick at Scootaloo’s right leg with clinical accuracy. Scootaloo dropped to the ground, clutching her leg to her chest and gritting her teeth. She was clearly trying not to scream.

“AHA!” a triumphant voice cried from the stage. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has fixed everything!”

There were a series of fizzles and bangs as every speaker blew out, one by one. Then Rainbow Dash shot straight up into the air and dove for Lightning Dust.

“Well, it’s official,” Cheese said, his accordion strapped to his back. “This really is the worst party I’ve ever thrown.” He strapped on a construction worker’s helmet, handed an extra to Pinkie, and they began to crawl under the table, making their way towards the stage.

As soon as Dash had attacked Dust, more like a dogfighting plane than anything human, the Cloudsdale Cavaliers had jumped in to defend their Captain. Soarin snarled and dove in, followed by the rest of the Wondercolts, and soon there was a full-out fight. Bulk Biceps had waded in, trying to pull Dash and Dust apart, but it was impossible, even for him.

Rarity had had the presence of mind to jump onto the table and to haul a sobbing Fluttershy up after her, and, that taken care of, was holding her cell phone up in front of her face. Flash In The Pan had clearly taken the motto of “The Show Must Go On” to heart: the lugubrious strains of “I Got Feelings” could just barely be heard over the screaming and yelling.

Applejack had torn up to them, carrying Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom on her back.
“Whoo!” she gasped. “Don’t even know how I managed to get ‘em all out at once, but I got ‘em.”
Big Mac also appeared, presumably having pushed his way through the crowd. “Is Granny safe?”
Applejack demanded.

“Ee-yup.”

“She’s still up at the food tent?”

“Ee-yup.”

“You thinking about gettin’ in that mess?”

“Ee-yup.”

“Well, don’t you dare.” Applejack had handed Scootaloo into Big Mac’s arms, and the other two scrambled up and hung onto his shoulders. “You get these three out and you keep ‘em safe and you get ‘em to Granny, you hear?”

“Ee-yup,” said Big Mac. He turned, but before he could go, Fluttershy handed him the cage with Curtis Pawpower in it. He rearranged things, nodded, and headed in the direction of the food tent, carefully choosing his path so that they avoided the worst of the turmoil.

Applejack had glanced up at Rarity and said, “Selfies, Rares? Really?” and then turned to Pinkie and Cheese. “You two,” she had said, “you get on out there and fix this thing.”

Which was why they were now crawling towards the main stage as though avoiding barbed wire.

“In fact,” Cheese went on, “I don’t think that even the Vanhoover Regatta went this badly.”

“Hey!” said Pinkie. “You told me you did that one when you volunteered!”

“I said I planned it well. I didn’t say it turned out well.”

They scrambled up onto the stage. From there, they could see the full scope of the chaos: the fighting, the lines of people waiting for fake Sugarcube’s cupcakes, Granny Smith tearing up some tablecloths and winding them around Scootaloo’s leg, Photo Finish taking pictures of everything for posterity, Mr. Cake sitting at the Sugarcube’s table with his head in his arms. Behind them, Flash in the Pan provided a soundtrack that was oddly suitable for a disaster movie. And over at the side of the stage, The Great and Powerful Trixie was prodding at one of the speakers with her magic wand, as though she expected it to work.

“We have to do something!” said Pinkie, pulling on his sleeve.

“I know,” said Cheese, “but we can’t begin to put out all these fires, Boss. I don’t even know where to start.”

Cheese took off his accordion, and they both sat down on the stage, legs dangling.

“I’m out of ideas,” Pinkie said gloomily.

“It’s not your fault, Boss.”

“And it’s not yours, Cheesie. You’ve been a great assistant. It’s like we’ve been jinxed.”

Sunset Shimmer came walking towards them, oddly unfazed by the chaos.

“I did promise to help if I was needed,” she said. “I don’t have much for you, except for a little advice.”

She pulled over Trixie’s magic kit, which she’d left sitting on the stage. After searching in it for a minute or two, she pulled out a flat oblong object, which turned out to be one of the magic mirrors Trixie used in her act. She handed it to Pinkie and Cheese, said “Be yourselves,” and walked away.

Pinkie and Cheese looked into the mirror, but all that they saw was Pinkie and Cheese. Suddenly, Pinkie gasped.

“Be ourselves . . . that’s it, Cheesie! We just have to be ourselves!” She grabbed Cheese’s hand, jumped up, and dragged him up with her.

“Be ourselves? What does that mean?”

“It means we have to dance!”

Pinkie darted backstage and came running back with her bandsuit. She pulled instruments off of it and handed a trombone to Axel Grease and a trumpet to Neutrino, neither of whom knew how to play brass instruments. Finally, she pulled the guitar out of Flash Sentry’s reluctant hands, and thrust a clarinet at him.

“Ta da!” she cried.

Meanwhile, Cheese had taken Brawley Beats’ drumsticks and was showing him a particular rhythm on the tom-tom and the cymbals, very unlike what he usually played. Brawley Beats nodded, and began to thump it out without questioning it, and despite the dead sound system, the beat was loud and insisted on being heard. People began to lift up their heads and notice. All but the most dedicated fighters paused.

Pinkie grasped Cheese by the elbow, and he took hold of hers. They nodded and performed a deafening swing stomp with both feet. They bounced up off the floor, arms at full length—

---and there were two Pinkies and two Cheeses.

Something peeked up from around the curly hair of each, something that was impossible to discern entirely yet from offstage. She spun away and did a flip around one of his arms—

And now there were four Pinkies and four Cheeses.

He flung her high into an aerial, and then there were eight. With every explosive dance move, the Pinkies and Cheeses replicated, until there were an impossible number, holding each other and spinning at the full length of their . . .tails?

The Pinkies and Cheeses began to spread out into the festival, taking charge as more of their number appeared—and more, and more. They swarmed onto tables, hung off of tents, and climbed up the dunk tank. It was impossible to ignore them, and even more so when the Cheeses withdrew their accordions.

“Lighten up!” yelled Cheese and Cheese and Cheese and Cheese and Cheese.

“IT’S A PARTY!” shrieked Pinkie and Pinkie and Pinkie and Pinkie and Pinkie.

Four of the Cheeses began juggling in a square, using cake servers, soccer cleats, and killer whale plushies. Several of the Pinkies pinned up an enormous Pin The Tail On The Pony game and put blindfolds around the eyes of the combatants, as the original Pinkie and Cheese danced on and on.

Granny Smith darted out of the food tent, announced to the world, “Now, that’s more like what I call dancin’ music!” and grabbed a very startled Bulk Biceps. She was really very good, considering that she hadn’t danced in several decades, and he was really very good, too, considering that he had never danced at all. It was impossible to resist joining in, so nobody tried.

Pinkie after Pinkie raced back and forth with tray after tray of real Sugarcube’s cupcakes, and the people lined up for the fake ones simply reached for the ones on the trays and turned away from the lines. Cheese after Cheese bounced up in front of the Canterlot and Cloudsdale soccer team members, who quickly became so confused that they couldn’t remember who they were fighting and why.

Then the non-human Pinkies and Cheeses began to arrive. Pinkie and Cheese welcomed them with little waves as they went on dancing, and everyone else showed no more surprise than if they had been carousel horses or a pony ride for the Cake Festival, which some of the Pinkies shortly became, pronking in a circle with giggling kids on their backs. These hyper-flexible, garishly colored little horses were a fact of life. They’d always been here. Their existence wasn’t surprising at all. And yet they were far more uncontrollable and far more absurd than their human counterparts. Where the human Cheeses and Pinkies produced hats and confetti, the pony Pinkies and Cheeses produced whole calliopes, diving boards, and pony-sized wheels of cheese, and they were much less inhibited, too.

“You know what your problem is?” said one of the pony Cheeses, as he somersaulted into the arms of a startled Mr. Rich. “You’ve got no sense of humor.” He kissed Mr. Rich on the nose and bounced off him as though he were a trampoline.

“Whee!” agreed a pony Pinkie, bouncing into Mr. Rich’s arms, removing the contract in his jacket, and bouncing back out. When he looked at the contract, he found that it had become a set of sheet music for “There’s No Beer in Heaven.”

It was a magnificent party, a party to be remembered forever, if only that were possible.

The wail of police sirens drew closer and closer. One of the pony Cheeses and Pinkies swarmed up the party cannon. The Cheese pushed the gun turret so that the barrel was aimed into the heart of the Cake Festival as he hung off the end. He shouted something to the Pinkie in the seat, and she pulled a lever.

The resulting explosion sent a hail of glitter, smoke, confetti, streamers and candy over the Cake Festival and much of the rest of the school grounds. Bits were still being found years later, although no one seemed to remember what they were from. Under the cover of the glitter and smoke cloud, the Pinkies and Cheeses drew up in two long lines opposite each other, spread out, and drew back in like the bellows of an enormous accordion, disappearing back wherever they’d come from, two by two. The last Pinkie trotted by and said, “Geez, Cheesie, why is everything here so complicated?” and disappeared.

The last Cheese said, “Heck if I know.” He took off his hat, tossed it to the Cheese of this world, and disappeared after her.

Sunset Shimmer came up onto the stage, and Pinkie and Cheese hugged her.

“Best. Advice. EVER!” squealed Pinkie.

“Seriously,” agreed Cheese. “We really owe you.”

“May I ask you a favor?” said Sunset Shimmer.

“Of course!”

“There’s someone I want to see,” she explained. “Someone I really owe an apology. And I’d really like to apologize face to face. It would mean a lot to me.” She joined Pinkie and Cheese’s hands, and then lifted them into an arch, as though they were playing “London Bridge is Falling Down.”

Pinkie and Cheese glanced at each other, each suspecting what Sunset Shimmer wanted to do. “Please say you’ll be back,” begged Pinkie. “I don’t like losing friends over there. I’d miss you, SunnyShutter.”

Sunset Shimmer smiled. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” she said. “Yes, I probably will, if She doesn’t mind.” She took a deep breath, walked through the archway formed by Pinkie and Cheese’s joined hands, and disappeared.

“Is Canterlot law enforcement always so easily distracted?” said Cheese, as they sat onstage an hour later.

“Kinda, yeah,” Applejack replied.

From over near the dunk tank, they could hear Flash Sentry saying, “Dad, you’re totally overreacting.”

To be fair to Police Sergeant Sentry, it wasn’t that he wasn’t asking questions. He had plenty of questions, and he’d demanded that a lot of people stay while he asked them. He just wasn’t getting any answers.

Things had happened, obviously, but what things and how? The soccer teams had obviously been fighting, but without eyewitnesses and with no one remembering who hit whom, and not much to go on but a few black eyes and contusions, there wasn’t much he could do except for letting them off with a stern warning. There was a big mess, true, but who knew how festivals were supposed to look after a successful day, right?—and most of the damage was concentrated near the dunk tank, except for the burnt-out speakers, and that wasn’t anyone’s fault . . .

One thing everyone agreed on was that it had been the best Cake Festival ever. Photo Finish lamented that so many of her pictures seemed to have disappeared off her camera. She remembered taking them during the height of the festival, when everyone was fully enjoying themselves, and she knew they would have been splendid pictures of whatever it was.

The other thing everyone agreed on was that Sugarcube’s cupcakes were the most delicious they had ever had, and that they would never forget them. They still had the taste in their mouths, and they knew exactly where they could find them. Friends started planning with friends to make sure to stop by the bakery on the way to the office, before they sold out. Filthy Rich walked up to Pinkie, picked up her hand, patted it, and said, “Miss Pinkie, you are a formidable opponent. I take my hat off to you.” He raised his Panama, and went off to find his daughter.

Police Sergeant Sentry sighed. “I guess that’s all we’re going to get.” He shook his head. “I swear, this is the weirdest school in the country.” He glared at the Principal and Vice Principal. “Unfortunately, no one ever seems to remember exactly what happened when anything happens here. At least there isn’t a crater in the lawn.” He turned to go.

Rarity coughed. “Ahem, Sergeant Sentry, I was wondering if you might find this useful or be interested in this.” She showed him her cell phone, and pulled up some pictures on her camera. There, clearly and unmistakably, were pictures of Lightning Dust bringing up her foot and driving it into the leg of a young girl, who fell to the ground and rolled there in pain.

“Hmm,” he grunted. “Hmm. Can I have this for a moment?”

“Absolutely!”

He walked over to a bored-looking Lightning Dust. “You realize this is an automatic arrest? I couldn’t let you off of this if I wanted to, not that I especially do. Now,” he held up his hand, “the rules say that you don’t have to say anything to me, and you’re gonna hear all the rules in a minute, believe me, but you don’t just walk off from pictures of kicking a kid.” He turned to Rarity. “Thanks for being a good citizen, miss. I’ll just pull these off of here in the car and let you have your phone back.”

“You’re welcome!” trilled Rarity. She glanced at Applejack from under her eyelids. “And you thought I was taking a selfie. Shame on you, Applejack.”

“And you may want to take a good look at her fingerprints, once you got ‘em!” called Applejack. “Just a suggestion!”

Vice Principal Luna walked up to Pinkie and Cheese. “Guess this means we get an F in community service, right?” said Cheese.

“It may not matter, Mr. Sandwich,” she said. “At least, not to you. Have a good evening.” She followed her sister out of the grounds.

Applejack turned to Cheese. “Welp, welcome to our world, Cheese, I guess. How are you feeling?”

“That was something else,” he conceded. “I thought I was used to strange, but that was really something else. Not that I minded, really.” He scratched his head. “The ears, though—those were weird. I’d be just as happy not to have to deal with the ears again. But I’m keeping the hat.”

Author's Note

One more chapter to go, folks, and it will be considerably shorter than this one, which I’m sure all of us will appreciate. Expect it shortly.

I want you to know that I work hard on the research for this thing. If there’s a birthday cake shaped bouncy castle in this fic, then by golly, I double-checked to make sure such a thing exists. I checked to find out how long the high pitched sound from a helium balloon lasts. (As always, don’t do what these characters do: it’s frequently very unsafe.) I check the rules for cake-eating competitions. I try not to make mistakes, if at all possible. The IP law stuff, though, is just a plot point, and it’s not aimed at anything in particular.

The scenes between Trixie and Cheese are an affectionate tribute to the Ask blog Ask Trixie and Cheese , although that Cheese is considerably more impressed with Trixie than mine is; the heckling borrows lines from The Living Tombstone’s Magic.
I came up with the name “Branson” for Filthy Rich’s chauffeur, and then realized it’s the name of the former chauffeur on Downton Abbey. I rather like that Branson, but the name stuck. I’ll let you play the “Hunt The Reference” game for yourselves.

Some of this chapter also contains references to some side-stories and a possible sequel. I’ll be making up my mind on that after Rainbow Rocks.

Now you also understand the cover image. The music Flash in the Pan play under CheesePie influence is “Sing, Sing, Sing,” which you can hear here.

I cannot help you with “Purple Smart” or “Save Them Whales,” but I’m sure you don’t mind.

Make A Wish, It's Your Birthday

“Well, that’s the last of it!” said Applejack, dusting off her hands and returning to the platform that had served as the main stage of the Cake Festival. “We got all the display stands and tables and stuff on the truck.”

“Tents struck?” said Pinkie Pie, from her spot on the stage.

“Check!” said Cheese, who stood next to her, referring to a clipboard. “Bouncy castle deflated?”

“Check,” said Pinkie Pie, and sighed.

“Check,” said Cheese.

“Dunk tank drained?”

“Drained and struck. Check.”

“Speakers packed up?”

“Yep,” said Cheese, “although those things need to go to the shop. And possibly to the landfill. Looks like that’s everything, Boss.” He stashed the clipboard in his hair, and walked over the extra tent cloths where he’d left his backpack.

Pinkie Pie sighed again, and sat down on the edge of the stage. “I’m gonna miss being boss.”

Applejack sat next to her. “Look at it this way, Sugarcube. After this, no one can say you’re not Pinkie Responsibility Pie. You did a beautiful job, cousin. I am so proud,” she said, giving Pinkie a hug.

“Hear, hear!” said Rarity.

“Even if nobody kinda remembers anything about a whole lot of it,” Rainbow Dash reminded them, rolling her eyes.

“They’ll remember they had a splendid time, Rainbow Dash,” retorted Rarity, “which they certainly did. The—ah—little improvisations don’t really matter. There are bound to be a few boo-boos.”

“Yup!” agreed Applejack. “Remember, you’re the cook and no one hasta know, as Granny Smith said when she dropped the turkey last Hearth’s Warming.”

Fluttershy finished counting through the cash donation boxes. “So much money for the animal rescue and for the whales, too! Oh, I’m so thrilled. I could just cheer!”

“I couldn’t really hear that,” said Rainbow Dash, after her friend had expressed her enthusiasm, “but I’m happy you’re happy. Say, uh—where’s the squirt? Is she ok?”

“Granny’s been lookin’ after her,” Applejack reassured her. “Nothing’s broken.”

“Yeah, it wouldn’t be,” said Rainbow Dash bitterly. “It’s all tendons and soft tissue, and it took her forever to bounce back from it last year.”

“I think she’ll be ok this time,” said Fluttershy hesitantly. “I mean, I know I only work with animals and I’m just a tech, but I did look at her, and maybe this time a week or two of rest and some ice and some stretching will be enough. The doctor’s going to look at her on Monday. You really may be able to take her with you and the Comets to Cowperstown this summer, Rainbow.”

“Darn right she’s coming with us,” growled Dash. “She’s coming along whether she can play or not. I promised.”

“Well, she can’t be feeling that bad,” Applejack said, “because Big Mac tried to take her home and she insisted on coming with Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom to Sweet Apple Acres for the after-party.”

“After-party!” squeaked Pinkie, bouncing up from where she sat. “How come no one told me?”

“ Because it was supposed to be a surprise for you, darling,” replied Rarity. “We thought you deserved one after all your hard work.”

“It’s more of a get-together than a party,” said Applejack. “Just a couple of pies and some cold cider and a chance to put our feet up. Big Mac’s running Granny and the kids home, and then he’s coming back for us—if we’re really all done, that is. What happens to the stuff that’s left?”

“We’ve got some movers coming in tomorrow to take away the heavy stuff,” said Cheese, rejoining them, placing his accordion on the stage, and sliding up onto the stage next to Pinkie. “The tent company’s coming to get the tents; same with the bouncy castle.” He swung his backpack next to him with a heavy thud.

“Geez, Cheesie,” said Pinkie. “What have you got in there?”

“Change of clothes,” he replied, “joy buzzers, inflatable fish, stuff like that. And about four weeks of mail.”

“Four weeks?” said Applejack. “Don’t you ever open it?”

“I was busy,” Cheese said, with an attempt at dignity. “And sometimes I just don’t want to be bothered with it. But if you insist . . .” he went on, opening up the backpack.

“ I was just fooling with you, Cheese. You don’t really have to open it now,” said Applejack.

“Oh, why not?” said Cheese, cheerfully dumping a stack of mail on the stage. “I’ll just forget it when I’m back at home, and maybe there’s something funny in there. You never know. Let’s see,” he said, riffling through it. “Junk, junk, junk . . . . ‘you may have won a prize’ . . . junk . . . mortgage refinancing—Manchego, who makes these mailing lists?—junk, junk . . . postcard! ‘Greatly concerned to hear of your . . .’ yup, that’s from my mother, all right. ‘Blah blah blah Pranceton.’ Pfft. As if. ‘Blah blah disappointment blah.’” He tossed the postcard aside.

“What’s the picture?” said Pinkie, glancing at it.

“Monument commemorating the victims of a cholera outbreak, apparently,” Cheese replied. “Junk, junk, junk . . . letter from the school.” He ripped it open. “‘Please clear out your locker, etc. . . .’—oops. I forgot that the school year’s over—‘owing to the severance of your ties with CHS.’ Huh?” He rumpled his hair. “Usually when I’m expelled, they tell me in person. Wow.” His eye fell on his mother’s postcard. “If she’s heard about that, no wonder she’s disappointed. And I’m really—I’m out of luck.”

Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy exchanged glances. “Now, don’t you go expecting the worst,” said Applejack. “I’m sure if you were expelled, Vice Principal Luna would’ve told you. She ain’t exactly shy. There’s gotta be another letter in there.”

Cheese glanced at the letter again. “Yeah, you’re right. It actually does refer to a previous letter. Um . . . let’s see. Here we go. It’s from Vice Principal Luna. ‘Inasmuch as you have completed the required credit hours, and have taken equivalency exit examinations on which you have received a passing grade, you have formally graduated from Canterlot High School, and your academic career with us comes to an end.’ Wait, what? I graduated?”

Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash exchanged another glance. “We were kinda wondering about that,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Cousin Snowy graduated last week,” explained Fluttershy, “and of course the whole family was there. It was so much hard work for him and we’re all very proud.”

“And of course, Soarin invited me and a bunch of the Wondercolts. So we saw the program, and we saw your name on it, and we were going to ask . . .”

“But you never said anything,” finished Fluttershy, “so we decided not to.”

“Wow,” said Cheese slowly. “That explains a few things, like how rough those exams were. And I remember that day in her office when I got suspended, I said I just wanted this to be over, and she said, ‘that’s entirely possible.’ Those weren’t finals. Those were equivalency exams.”

“You graduated! That’s awesome!” yelled Rainbow Dash. She raced over and held up her hand. “High five!”

“Yeah,” said Cheese, absently holding up his hand so that Rainbow Dash missed it completely. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it. I don’t know how to feel.”

“I’ll tell you how you feel,” said Rainbow Dash in annoyance. “You feel great, because you graduated and it’s awesome and it’s over.”

“Yeah, exactly,” said Cheese, shaking his head. “To be honest, I was enjoying going to school with you guys. Anyway, it’s one thing my mother can’t complain about, although I’m sure she’ll find a way.” He rummaged through some more mail. “Uh-huh. It’s an actual letter this time. ‘Blah blah blah Pranceton’—geez, what is it with my mother and Pranceton? Learn to live with disappointment, lady; it’s already one of your favorite words. ‘Blah blah blah assignment over, transfer, relocation . . .’ ” He froze. The letter fell from his hand, and he dropped his head into his hands.

“What?” prompted Pinkie, but Cheese didn’t seem to be able to continue, or even to move.

“Cheese?” said Applejack. “Can I have a look at that?” He said nothing, and Applejack picked up the letter and read. “‘While I am pleasantly surprised by your graduation and acceptance at Pranceton, I am deeply disappointed in your Aunt Mela’s supervision, your reported behavior, and your activities, and feel you require closer monitoring in the immediate future. Since our tours are ending at the same time and our assignments are over, we are permanently relocating to Manehattan. By the time you receive this, we should be properly settled, at which time your father and I will collect you from your Aunt Mela’s and bring you home.’”

No one said anything, until Cheese raised his head in a cry of utter despair. “Home? Where’s THAT?”

Cheese sat on the edge of the stage alone. He looked out at the struck tents, the disassembled dunk tank, and the deflated bouncy castle: almost everything he’d worked on for the last few months. Tomorrow it would be gone, as though it had never happened, and in a few days, so would he.

From somewhere behind him, he could hear Applejack and Pinkie talking. Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash had already left. Then he heard one set of footsteps fading away and another set coming back.

“Cheesie?” said Pinkie. “Applejack had to go, but she said she’d come right back with the truck whenever we’re ready. She said she’ll take you home or to Sweet Apple Acres or wherever you want. Are you ok? Cheesie?”

He tried to force himself to smile and say something funny, or at least, “yeah, I’m fine,” but he was afraid that his voice would break and give him away. He just sat there, his elbows on his knees and his chin supported by his hands, looking at nothing.

He could hear Pinkie running over with quick little steps. She hoisted herself onto the stage and sat next to him. For a moment, he thought he felt her hand just barely brushing his hair, but then she placed it on his back and patted it.

“Aw, Cheesie, please don’t be sad,” she said. “I don’t like seeing you sad. And you’re not allowed to be sad on your birthday.”

He sat up with a jerk. “How did you find out it was my birthday?” he said.

“I didn’t find out,” she corrected. “I remembered.”

His jaw dropped. She went on, “That was the first party I ever threw for anyone who wasn’t family, plus we almost never had a chance to play with other children, and I had so much fun. Of course I remembered you. I just didn’t know you were you. You got a whole lot taller and your voice changed a lot and you stopped wearing glasses, and I never heard you playing the accordion that one time, plus you forgot to mention your name.” Cheese smacked his face with his palm. “It took me a while to recognize you, Cheesie, but I’ve never forgotten your birthday. I wish I’d said ‘happy birthday’ earlier today, but I guess it’s even better if saying ‘happy birthday’ cheers you up more now.”

He looked straight at her—really looked at her: at the round, pretty pink face, and the wide, wide blue eyes, blue as the summer sky, surrounded by curly black lashes. He tried to read what was in them, but couldn’t. “You really remembered me? That long?”

“Of course,” she said.

Looking at her face-to-face was too hard. It was like looking directly into the sun. He dropped his eyes to his lap.

“Well,” he murmured, “I certainly remembered you.”

Her hand was flat on the stage, right next to his. He might have only a day or two to spend with her, maybe only hours. And it felt wrong not to tell her now—almost as though he were lying, something he was trying to quit. And, he added to himself, at least it’ll all be over in a day or two. Even a guy as gutless as you should be able to handle a day or two after she tells you that she doesn’t love you. Because if she did, you’d already know.

He slid his hand over hers and held it. He forced himself not to grip it for courage, but he still couldn’t look directly at her. He kept his eyes fixed in front of him, and took a long, shaky breath.

“Pinkie,” he said, and then he had to clear his throat and start over. “Pinkie, I, um . . . ” He took another deep breath. “I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. And the crazy part is that I think I always have. I even kept the balloons you gave me as a birthday present. I’ve had them in my wallet this whole time. I mean, that’s crazy, isn’t it? Love at first sight? With someone you met once, as a kid? Nobody would believe something like that. But I think it’s true. The second I heard your voice. . . it felt like one of those videos where the dog gets reunited with his family and rolls over making those whistling noises. It was so embarrassing, but I was so happy to see you again that I didn’t even care. Anyway.”

Try not to grip her hand, stupid. This is bad enough without hurting her. He dropped his head, swallowed, and made himself go on. “Anyway, I’m sure that even if I hadn’t met you back then, I would still have fallen in love with you. The more I know you, the more amazing I think you are. I’ve never met anyone who understood laughter the way you do, or who was so true and really themselves: just Pinkie Pie, all the way through. And you’re an unbelievably hard worker. I really liked working with you, because finally I was working with someone who cared about the things I cared about and wanted to get them right. And you’re the most sensible girl I’ve ever met. And you make me laugh.”

And you’re so beautiful, and you get more beautiful every day. I don’t understand why there aren’t traffic accidents when you ride your bike or walk down the street. And you smell amazing. And, and, and.

“So, anyway, Pinkie, I know I promised not to keep any more big secrets from you. I’m really sorry, and I hope you won’t be mad about it. I just thought it might be unpleasant for you working with me on the Cake Festival if you knew. But anyway, that’s over, and I’m leaving soon, so it doesn’t matter very much.”

Now he just felt horrible and awkward, and he really hoped he hadn’t lost the best friend he had. Finally Pinkie said, “Did you really keep your birthday present that long?”

He hadn’t been expecting that. “Well . . . yeah,” he said. “Here. I’ll show you.” He pulled out his wallet, removed the tiny bundle of deflated balloons, and placed them in her outstretched hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything,” she said sadly. “I guess that is kind of forgetting, especially after you gave me the party cannon. No happy birthday, no presents, and now you just feel bad. That isn’t right.”

Well, he had his answer, anyhow. At least he knew. And now she was sad, and he desperately did not want for her to be sad.

“I don’t think I need a birthday cake,” he said. “The whole day was enough cake for anybody, don’t you think? How about some pie instead? We’ll just call Applejack, have some pie, and forget I said anything. It’s not that important. I just hope we can still be friends.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. The way her pink hair shifted around her face, like clouds at sunrise: so beautiful, Pinkie. “You should have a real birthday, even if it’s not very much. Here,” she said, handing him back the balloons. “I know I gave it to you before, so it feels like cheating, but . . .”

“No, this is fine,” he said, with a big perky grin. “It’s just what I've always wanted.”

“And I know you’ve had plenty of cake, and you’ve got to be tired of cupcakes.”

“Anyone who could get tired of your cupcakes shouldn’t be allowed to have them in the first place,” he pointed out.

“I think at least you should get to blow a candle out and make a wish.” Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when she opened her hand to reveal a single lit pink birthday candle: not a cupcake, just the candle, resting directly on her palm. “Go ahead, Cheesie. Make a wish.”

He thought for a moment, running through the possibilities. That’s it. That’s simple enough, isn’t it? I mean, it’s still not going to happen, but at least it’s not the moon on a stick. He closed his eyes and blew gently enough for a single candle.

It was so soft—something like a peach being brushed across his lips. He wasn’t sure that it wasn’t. It was just a little birthday kiss, and he hoped it wasn’t a pity kiss because she felt sorry for him or something. That was the last thing he wanted. Thank you, Pinkie. I could live on that forever.

Then he felt her hand brush softly across his cheek, and she ran her fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck, and she hadn’t stopped kissing him.

He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her just a little bit closer. He heard and felt a sharp little inhale, followed by a tiny whimper, and even he knew that had to mean; “Please, don’t stop.” She likes kissing me. She actually wants me to kiss her. She wants me.

He felt a great swoop in his gut and a rush of excitement that felt like going on the Giant Slide at Coneigh Island if instead of coming to a stop at the foot of the slide you blasted off for the moon instead. It was his birthday, and Pinkie Pie was kissing him, and it was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him, except that of course it had to end and he’d thank her for the best birthday present in the history of the universe. He really meant to say that when the kiss was over, only when it did and he was holding both of her hands in his, he wound up saying instead, “I really do love you.”

She sighed. “I hate ‘I love you, too,’ ” she said.

It was amazing how many things his gut could do all on its own: go on the Giant Slide, rocket to the moon, and now it was taking the express elevator to the basement. He looked down and was really startled when she pulled his face down close to hers. “I hate it,” she went on, punctuating her explanation with a dozen little kisses, “because it sounds, it just sounds as though I only said it, I only said it because you said it first, and that’s not true, because I love you so much, Cheesie. I do, I really do!”

He was having a very hard time processing all of this. “I . . . does that mean you’re going to kiss me some more?”

“YES!”

And it wasn’t just the Giant Slide, but the bumper cars and the Ferris wheel and the entire amusement park rolled into one, and Pinkie Pie took him and spun him and his entire world upside down until he was dizzy, and when she stopped and set him down, everything was different, and better, and the way it always should have been. It was the second time she’d done that to him, and this time it was going to stick.

She sat wrapped in his arms, with her curly head nestled up against his collarbone, and it was as though she’d always been meant to be there, and maybe she had.

“That must have been the shortest birthday wish to grant time ever,” he said dreamily. “It probably set some kind of record.”

“Lucky duck. I had to wait for a month and a half for mine!”

“You mean—this? This is what you wished for?”

She half-turned so she could meet his eye. “Well, of course! I saw you standing across the floor at Sugarcube’s, and I closed my eyes and blew out all the candles and wished really hard, and when I opened my eyes again, you were gone.” The corners of her mouth turned down, just for a moment. “I felt really sad and disappointed, and then I thought, ‘duh, Pinkie, that doesn’t mean not ever, it just means not today,’ and I knew I’d get my wish if I was a patient Pinkie, but I don’t like being patient, so it was hard. And then I fell out of the dumb grid and didn’t even get to see you for more than a week, and now I’m really mad at Lightning Dust ‘cause she made me not get to kiss you for weeks longer than I could have on top of everything else she did. I’m glad you told me you love me,” she added, snuggling in a little deeper. “I could kind of tell, but I hoped you’d actually tell me.”

He rested his chin on top of her head. “So why didn’t you tell me first, Boss? I mean, what was stopping you?”

She thought for a moment. “Telling someone you love them is really scary, even if you’re pretty sure they love you back.”

He really didn’t have any secrets from her now. Now they could talk about anything, and did. He didn’t even feel particularly shy when he said, “Pinkie, there’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Is that ok?”

“Sure.”

So he did. He unflipped the latches on his accordion, and he serenaded her. Music that he’d played to her, hoping that somehow she’d understand without him actually putting it into words, music that he played alone when he was thinking of her, only this time he could tell her, “this one reminds me of you,” or “the lyrics on this one are a dead giveaway. Seriously, Pinkie, I am so crazy about you that I’m amazed they can’t see it from space. Are you cold?” he said, frowning. “Because you look cold.”

“Not really,” she said, but she had her arms wrapped around herself. He rummaged around in his knapsack for his Vanhoover Regatta sweatshirt and helped her get it over her head. The arms were so long and it was so big that it swam on her. She reminded him of a kitten wearing a big fluffy bathrobe, and she looked so adorable that he forgot for a moment what he was supposed to be doing. He didn’t feel cold at all, but when he put his hand down on the stage surface, he noticed that it was cold and wet. Dew had actually fallen while they were talking. He sighed.

“We’d better get you home,” he said. “I hope Applejack isn’t too worried about us. I shouldn’t have kept you out so late.”

“You didn’t keep me out late,” Pinkie said. “I wanted to stay and talk to you and kiss you a whole lot, especially since you said you might have to leave soon.”

That wasn’t a nice thought, but it was true. He settled some things in the knapack, and then reached down to pull her up. “Probably,” he admitted, “though really, I’m more worried that she doesn’t seem to like what I’ve been up to, and what she said about closer monitoring. I hope maybe Pranceton puts it out of her mind, but if she doesn’t like the way I behave at home, she might decide to ship me off somewhere.”

“Well, if that’s what your mom thinks she can do, she sure can’t count!” said Pinkie, pulling the sweatshirt down a little more. It was practically long enough for her to wear it as a dress. He must have looked confused, because she picked up his hand and explained gently, “You’re eighteen now, Cheesie. She can’t do anything to you anymore.” As the incredible truth that he was free sunk in, she added smugly, “That’s what happens to people who forget birthdays.”

He squeezed her tight. “I’m still going to have to leave, though.”

“I know,” said Pinkie, picking at the hem of the sweatshirt.

“But I’ll come back to see you as soon as I can,” he assured her, as he strapped on his accordion and picked up his knapsack. “And we’re already used to calling each other and texting a million times a day. It’s just that now it’ll be about something other than cakes!”

“Cupcakes don’t count though, do they?” said Pinkie anxiously, as they walked out of the school grounds. “Because I’ll want to tell you all about my new cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes don’t count,” he agreed, “and besides, anything you want to text me about is fine with me.”

“How about alligators?”

“That’s fine.”

“Bison?”

“Sure.”

“Zucchini?”

“Yep.”

“I guess this is good night, Pinkie,” said Cheese, as he walked her around the back of Sugarcube Corner and kissed her good night as though he’d been doing it for years.

“It’s not night anymore,” Pinkie replied, pointing to the sky. “See? It’s morning.”

“Well, then, good morning!” he cried, flinging open his arms. “Good morning, Beautiful,” he murmured, wrapping her in his arms again, and kissed her on the tip of her nose.

Pinkie slid out from his arms, walked up to the back door, took out her keys, and paused. She turned back and leaned against the railing. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you today,” he said. “As soon as you want me to. Get some breakfast, get some sleep, and call me whenever you want me.” He waved goodbye, backing up so that he didn’t have to stop looking at her.

“You should probably get some sleep, too,” she called, as she walked back up to the door.

“Me?” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “I don’t have time to sleep. I’ve got to tell the world how amazing it is.”

“Why’s it so amazing?”

“You’re in it!” he shouted, exploding upwards in a shower of fireworks and confetti. He hung there, shot around the corner and down the street, and came to a halt. The sunrise stretched out in front of him like a gold and pink pathway, and he ran to meet the sun, taking along the gift Pinkie gave him and that he wanted to share with the world—

Pure Joy.

Mr. and Mrs. Cake sat in the kitchen in their bathrobes, holding cups of coffee.

“Maybe we should call the hospital?” suggested a worried Mr. Cake.

“Oh, I don’t think anything that bad could have happened,” his wife reassured him, “but I’m going to call her cousin Applejack in just a few minutes. If Applejack doesn’t know where Pinkie is either, then it’s time to get worried for sure.” She got up, walked to the stove, picked up the coffee pot, and then put it down abruptly. “Pinkie!”

Pinkie had let herself in. She was wearing a sweatshirt so oversized that the arms covered her hands, and was now twirling in slow circles around the room.

“We were extremely worried about—”

“He loves me,” said Pinkie, with a dreamy half-smile.

“What?”

“He loves me,” she explained, twirling in a tighter little pirouette.

“Who?” said Mr. Cake, completely confused now.

“Cheesie, of course,” she said calmly. “I thought everybody knew that. Can I have Sugarcube’s after closing tonight, Mrs. Cake? It was Cheesie’s birthday yesterday and we never got to give him a party.”

“You did such a wonderful job—of course you can have the shop,” said Mrs. Cake.

“And I’m sure lots of people will want to come,” Pinkie went on, as though Mrs. Cake hadn’t said anything. “Lots of people will want to celebrate Cheesie’s birthday—and to say goodbye.” Her voice wobbled slightly for just a moment. “I’m going to get some sleep now,” she announced. “Good night!—I mean, good morning!” she said, with a beatific smile, and waltzed up three flights of stairs.

The Cakes sat at the kitchen table, stunned.

“She’s too young,” said Carrot Cake. “They’re both much too young!”

“So were we,” Mrs. Cake reminded him. “I’m more worried about her parents. You know how strict they are with their daughters, and I don’t think this is something I could just not tell them. I’d feel guilty.”

“He’s a nice enough boy,” conceded Mr. Cake, “but he brings a lot of trouble with him. Something there makes me uneasy, but I don’t know what it is.”

Mrs. Cake rose and put her arms around Carrot’s shoulders. “She looks so happy, sweetie,” she said. “Let them be happy today.”

Author's Note

I’ve been waiting for this chapter for a long time, and I bet you have, too. Short epilogue to follow.

Epilogue: Where Are They Now?

Cheese Sandwich left Canterlot a few days later with his parents, who were very annoyed that he’d aged chronologically without their permission. He spent the summer in Manehattan, exploring the city and spending as much time playing music as he wanted to. He is currently a freshman at Pranceton University, which he’s enjoying a lot more than he thought he would. He texts Pinkie Pie a lot.

Pinkie Pie spent her summer creating ice cream cupcakes and having fun with her friends. She is now in her senior year at Canterlot High. She texts Cheese Sandwich a lot.

They are disgustingly happy.

Rainbow Dash took Scootaloo to Cowperstown.

Fluttershy went whale watching.

Applejack helped Big Mac rebuild the barn. She has plans for that barn.

Rarity began selling her line of fascinators on Etsy.

Sunset Shimmer returned to Canterlot, where she has become close friends with all of them.

The Cakes received an envelope containing two thousand dollars in cash and a note reading, “Trademark your business, stupid.” They took the advice. Sugarcube’s is now trademarked and registered, and doing extremely well; they are thinking about expanding.

Filthy Rich regrets Sugarcube’s as the one that got away, but it makes downtown Canterlot real estate much more valuable, and he’s pleased, because he owns so much of it.

Lightning Dust got in a bundle of trouble.

The Great and Powerful Trixie still dreams of fabulous success on the stage.

Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash are currently thinking a lot about their futures and planning what they intend to do after they graduate. They continue to have the sort of adventures girls do who are connected to uber-magical ponies with rainbow powers and who go to a high school with a supernatural portal. Or as Applejack likes to put it, “just a regular day around here, Sugarcube.”

To which Pinkie always replies, “Yes, indeedily!”

Author's Note

Well, it’s just in under the wire! I wasn’t sure I could do it. Lots of thanks to everybody who read and commented and gave an Equestria Girls fic a chance.

You probably noticed a lot of cross-pollination with my regular CheesePie stories.

Will there be a sequel? Maybe. It depends on whether or not I have time and what happens in Rainbow Rocks.

Anyway, I’ll be posting a few things on my blog later, where you can ask a bunch of questions about Pinkie, Cheese, and the fic.

And thanks again, everyone!