"Hey Scootaloo, can we come over to your house today?"
Applebloom grinned at her pegasus friend. Scootaloo, on the other hoof, began to squirm uncomfortably and small beads of sweat began beading on her forehead as Sweetie Belle, her unicorn best friend, raised an eyebrow.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Oh, uh, nothing! Sorry, but y-you guys can't come over today. We're uh, um, expecting guests," Scootaloo replied, hoping her friends would believe her lie.
"What about tomorrow?" Applebloom asked. Scootaloo said nothing, but merely turned the other direction and began running. Looking over her shoulder, she shouted,
"See you guys tomorrow!"
Scootaloo held her head down low as she entered the outskirts of Ponyville. It had begun to rain, and the filly's mane and tail were getting soaked.
"Watch it," a stallion growled as they bumped shoulders.
"Sorry," Scootaloo mumbled. She trudged through the damp ground quietly, ignoring the glares she received from passerby ponies. This part of town was sketchy, full of thieves and drunks and prostitutes. The sound of muffled laughter drifted into her ears. She looked up and saw that she was standing in front of an old, shady bar. A wooden sign hanging on the door read,
The Drunken Mule
She pushed open the door and held her breath. The room went silent. Scootaloo could feel at least a dozen pairs of eyes following her as she walked over to the bar counter.
"Excuse me," she whispered.
"Whadda' want? This place is for adults only," the barkeeper said, pointing a beige hoof at a sign that said,
21+
Scootaloo ignored the stallion's harsh tone. "I'm looking for work," she said, staring him right in the eye. The silence in the room was deafening. Then, the bar was filled with laughter.
"Work? She's crazy!"
"That filly needs to go home, back to her mama!"
"Yeah, go back to your mama!"
"Crazy pony!"
Scootaloo bit her lip as she ignored the snide comments. "I'm looking for work," she repeated. The barkeeper stared at her with a steely glare.
"Go in back," he growled, motioning a door in the corner. She walked to it quickly, wanting to get away from all the drunk ponies that thought she was crazy. As she pushed the door open, she saw nothing but kegs stacked three ponies high against each wall. Scoot shivered, as the temperature in the room was very low.
"Who's there?" a mare with a cherry colored bouncy mane stepped into the room from another door. "Who are you?" she asked, staring at Scootaloo. Scoot stared at the mare, taking in her appearance. Her tail and mane were shiny and well kept. She wore a dark red lipstick that complimented her emerald green eyes. Her coat was the same as the barkeeper's, a nice beige.
"S-Scootaloo," Scoot replied, shivering again. She noticed the mare was wearing a large brown coat. She eyed it enviously, and the mare noticed.
"Did Butch send you? And there's another coat back there," the mare said, inclining her head towards the door behind her.
"Who's Butch?" Scootaloo asked, stepping forward, eager to grab a coat to wrap around her.
"My brother. He owns this place. He's also the barkeeper."
"Oh, uh- yeah. I asked for work and he told me to come in here."
The mare nodded. "My name's Sweet Cider." Scoot smiled and gazed longingly at the door behind Cider. Chuckling, the mare walked into the storage room and came back out with a coat in her mouth. She placed it at Scootaloo's hooves. "There," she said, "sorry, but there are no holes for your wings. Our family members are made up of earth ponies and unicorns."
Scoot put on the coat. It was much too large on her, the sleeves pooling down onto the floor. She rolled them up and smiled again at Sweet Cider.
"What now?" she asked.
"Hi, Scootaloo. You look tired today. Did you finish your homework?"
Ms. Cheerilee's voice was loud and bubbly. Scootaloo nodded, and pulled a piece of parchment out of her magenta saddlebag. She handed it to her teacher, hung up her saddlebag and sat down at her desk. Applebloom, who sat on her left, leaned over to her.
"Why do you look so tired?"
"Oh, uh, couldn't sleep," she whispered back. The truth was that she had worked her flank off at the bar, learning how to fill up kegs and make booze and serve ponies. It had been a rough night. All the ponies at the bar teased her about 'being a crazy filly.' After the night's work, she was payed two bits. Combined with the some of the money she already had, it was enough to get her a room to sleep in at a cheap inn for the night.
Scootaloo had a rough life. Her mother had abandoned her three years ago, when she was six. She had been forced to find places that would give her a job so she could afford a place to sleep and eat. She had just been fired from an illegal casino for kicking a stallion when he had grabbed at her flank. She didn't eat for four days.
Scootaloo was out the door of the school the moment the bell rang. Hopping on her scooter she had gotten from Pinkie Pie last month on her birthday, she raced to the bar. Parking her scooter, she hung her blue helmet on one of its handles and stepped inside. She ignored the ponies' comments about her arrival as she headed for the door at the back of the bar.
Pushing it open, she was greeted by a rush of cold air. She blinked a few times, then walked to the storage room. "Sweet Cider?" she called.
"I'm here," the mare responded, coming out from behind a stack of boxes. "Oh, it's you," she said, as Scootaloo put on the coat she had worn the previous day.
The orange pegasus filly laughed as Sweet Cider showed her a trick she had learned, balancing a glass on her head. "Wanna give it a try?" Cider asked. Scootaloo nodded, and kept her eyes towards the top of her head as Sweet Cider placed a shot glass filled with water on her head. Slowly, she took a step forward. And another. And another. She began quickening her pace as she walked closer to the mare.
"Watch out!" Cider shouted, as the glass fell onto the ground. Water soaked the end of Sweet Cider's mane. The glass was shattered, shards glinting everywhere. Cider glared at Scootaloo.
"I'm sorry!" the pegasus cried, rushing towards a broom and dustpan. Only cutting herself once on the hoof, she swept up the broken glass. She apologized again to Cider, who said nothing, but continued to give the filly a harsh stare.
"You can take the broken glass out of my pay," Scootaloo offered. Cider's expression softened.
"You know, you're a pretty cool filly," she said.
Scootaloo was paid five bits that day.
Parent Teacher Conference Day
"Alright, class, everypony listen up!"
Ms. Cheerilee smiled and looked over her students. "Next week on Tuesday we have a very important event coming up." The students suddenly all gave their utmost attention to the teacher. Events were always fun. "Tuesday is this year's first Parent Teacher Conference Day!" A loud groan erupted from the class. "Now now," Cheerilee said, "I have a list of times you and your parents are supposed to arrive at the school. I expect you to be here on time, understand?" She turned her attention towards Silver Spoon, one of her students. "Silver Spoon, can you pass these out to the class for me?" the white haired filly nodded and began passing out the papers as a low rumble of talk emitted from the students. Just after Silver Spoon had placed the last paper onto Snip's desk, the bell ran. Again, Scootaloo was the first to leave.
Buckling her helmet strap around her chin, Scootaloo ignored her friend's calls to wait up. She zoomed straight for the bar, determined to earn another five bits.
It was now Sunday, and Scootaloo began to worry about the Parent Teacher Conference Day. What would she tell Ms. Cheerilee? She couldn't lie, that was for sure. Her teacher was very good at telling if somepony was lying or not.
"Hey, Sweet Cider?" she said as she began filling up an empty keg with fresh booze.
"Yeah, Scootaloo?"
"At school, t-there is this sort of-uh, special day going on," she said, wondering if she should continue.
"Yeah?" Cider replied. "So?"
"W-well, it's Parent Teacher Conference Day."
"What about it?"
"I-I was wondering if-if you could maybe-pretend to be my mom," Scootaloo said, as she removed the tube and closed the keg.
"Why? Don't you have a mom?"
"N-no."
"Dad?"
"No. I'm an orphan."
Sweet Cider closed the keg she had filled and stared at Scoot.
"I'll think about it," she said.
