Nothing Special

Things carried on that way for quite some time, and to cut a long story short I’ll jump to my graduation.

I had attended all of my older brothers’ graduation ceremonies and cheered for them with each award they received. I’ve even played for the band during other graduations, with just a simple, repetitive tune for when the graduates entered and exited. But after looking back on it, I don’t know why I expected any of them to show up to my graduation. Along with the knowledge of having none of them giving me much, or any, due credit in the past, my entire graduation consisted of me and my mother sitting in the principal’s office of the school, having him read off my achievements from the past, then shaking hooves with me before handing over my GED and wishing me luck with a forced smile.

I brought the degree back home to lie in a box with other special achievements I had earned in the past. For instance, the one time I was awarded “Student of the Month.” Or my modified swimming participation trophy. Then there was my clip from the newspaper of the time I got second place in a Pinewood Derby. It’s a small box.

Having graduated a year ahead of my class, I had the opportunity to go off to college a year ahead of my class. Unfortunately, I eventually learned, the college of my choice – or the second- and third-choice colleges – didn’t accept applications from students with a GED.

I feel like there’s nowhere else to go with that, and I’m probably right considering nothing else notable happened until I moved out.

At first I was hesitant, and that made me angry. I had wanted to get away for so long, and now that it was happening, it scared me.

Why?

I remind myself that there’s no turning back. I had the train ticket, after spending almost all of my savings.

There’s no turning back.

I pack my old, enormous suit case. Gather a quilt and sleeping mat, some food, and a few things for my first few days.

There’s no turning back.

I dress casually and warmly.

It’s probably a bad idea to leave so close to winter.

There’s no turning back.

I hug my parents good-bye at the train station, get encouraging smiles from my siblings, and turn to the conductor to hand him my ticket.

There’s absolutely no turning back.

This sentence has forced away all the thoughts that would have tried to convince me to stay. After I finally find my seat on the train, those thoughts explode:

How are they going to be able to handle the chores without me?

What if I can’t manage myself out there?

How do I know any jobs will accept minors?

What if Pa gets hurt again?

Will Ma be able to control the little ones?

What about Minty Swirl?

That final thought surprises me and I start crying.

I didn’t even tell her I was going.

You’re going to be fine. You can send a letter as soon as you settle in.

I should have at least told her.

You didn’t have any chances, there’s no problem.

I take a deep breath and blink away the glossiness in my eyes. Out of the blue, a fellow sits beside me and puts his hoof on my shoulder.

“You alright partner?” He asks.

I take another deep breath and nod. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? You look a little broken up.” The concern in his voice seems genuine. He has a grassy green coat that’s a tad messy. His mane is a deeper green, like oak leaves, rather unkempt but mostly hidden under a big hat. He has a red bandana tied around his neck with the knot at the front.

I swallow the lump in my throat and try to sound convincing. “I’ll be fine, really.” I even give a petite smile to persuade him.

He raises an eyebrow, obviously not satisfied. I withhold my smile as he digs through my eyes and into my head. “Nope,” he states.

“I’m sorry?” I respond, faking confusion, hiding worry.

“I said ‘Nope,’” he restates. “In other words, I don’t buy it. There’s something you’re not saying, and it’s killing you. I’m guessing you know no safety in telling the truth because you have been led astray in the past by an unfortunate attempt.”

I try to configure the words he said, but only get about half of it. “I’m sorry?”

He faces forward. “Trust me kid, I’m the oldest of seven, I’ve had practice.”

“Well, I’m the middle of seven,” I tell him, “and my eldest is nothing like you, so forgive me for the confusion.” I don’t try to make it sound sarcastic, but I think I did.

He looks back at me. “I also have a bachelor’s degree in psychology.” He point to his flank to show me a cutie mark depicting an open spiral-bound notebook with a question mark on the page.

“So,” I try to think of something that won’t sound offensive, “I guess that explains why you’re so good at telling.” I force a desperate smile.

He puts his hoof around my shoulders. “You can tell me anything.”

As if.

I tell him some. I tell him where I’m headed, and why. While I speak, the train takes off, and as I look, I don’t see any family left. I swallow another lump. I tell him how I’m broken up about leaving my family and friends. Well, I specify “friend,” and he looks especially worried about that. When I’m done, he can tell I’ve left much out. “It’s okay,” he claims, “I get it. I’m just a strange stallion on the train. You just met me, and don’t trust me enough to tell me everything yet. It’s okay.” He looks at me in silence for a few seconds. I turn and look out the window at the moving objects.

Suddenly, “Would it help if I told you about me some?”

I shrug, and he takes off about his life:

“My favorite game as a foal was hide-and-seek. I was nearly invisible in the bushes.

“All the bullies meant nothing, because I was able to tell what their problems were just by the stuff they said to me.

“I met her at a Daring Do book signing. We’ve been married a year and a half, and now she’s expecting.

“I’ve been visiting my family here in Stirrupburg for the announcement. She went to Fillydelphia for her’s. We live in Manehatten, moved there together because of a job offer, and we love it.”

“I’m glad it’s so great,” I say, thinking and hoping he’s finished, “makes me feel better about moving out there.”

“So?” He looks at me, expecting me to continue my story.

I sigh heavily and start again. I tell him a bit more, staying away from my cutie mark story. He seems incredibly amazed to hear that I graduated a year early. It is then that I get a notion that his interest may be forced.

You think he’s acting?

He might be.

But he’s such a nice guy.

I’m just saying he could be. Like, this might just be and advertisement for his job.

Or he could be for real. Give this guy a chance, please?

I finish my story, hoping that he’s convinced. I look directly into his eyes, straight-faced.

He smiles at me. “An internship at Bridleway?”

“Yeah, or a job,” I tell him. “If I can get a job there, that’d be great. If not, I’ll have to look elsewhere.”

“Bridleway’s pretty tough. You think you’re good enough to be a writer?”

“I think so,” I try a touch of confidence.

“That must explain you’re cutie mark,” he points out.

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, it sort of does.”

“Mind telling me the whole story?”

He smiles, his eyes smile. He just looks trustworthy. I turn my head and look out the window. “I can’t.”

I can feel his smile die. He’s silent for a moment. I hear him rummage through a bag for something. Sounds like a piece of paper, a hard-cover book, and probably something to write with. I hear the sound of a pencil scribble on the paper. “Here,” he says. I turn back around to see a folded sheet of paper being handed to me. I take it in my hooves and begin unfolding it. “If you ever feel like telling me more.”

Inside the folds I see a two addresses and his name; Leafy Green. Next to one address it says “home,” the other says “office.”

“Really?” I say, “You’re giving me all this information about you, and you hardly know me. What if I’m a thief or something and came up with this whole elaborate plan to gain your trust so I could rob you?”

He laughs a bit. “I’d say I know you pretty well, Page, you just told me after all. I like your imagination though.”

I fold the paper back up and put it into my suitcase.

Eventually the train stops and before we part ways, Leafy reminds me, “If there’s anything you need, send me a letter, or just come by.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

From there I begin my adventure. First things first: Finding somewhere to stay.