Has to be a Hero

"Hey!  Hey girly lad!"

Just what I need, our school bully, Blueberry. Threatening name, I know. He's lumbering towards me and looking for a fight. He's in the same grade I'm in: the second year of high school.

"Girly lad! I'm talking to you!"

At least I could agree with him on that: I looked exactly like a girl. Long, lily white hair, lean body structure, no chin, and, if I'm honest with myself, I’ve got an ass on me.

"Girly lad."

I stop. I’ll have to fight the bloke to make him leave me alone, that's how he works.

"I don't want to fight you." I reply. I hate hurting ponies.

"You gonna run to your boyfriend? Cry in his arms?"

That’s it. No one insults Butterscotch.

CRACK!

One good punch later, he's on the ground of the ally were in. Very clean for an ally: no garbage, No dumpster; Just a little shortcut.

A shortcut with a blue pony lying in it.

I float my pocket watch out of my saddlepack. It's old, but I like it.

4:15. I run, I've got a date.

"You what!?"

That was Butterscotch. My boyfriend. You could easily have mistaken us for a normal couple. Butterscotch had a chocolate brown mane, purple eyes, and a coat that matched his name, Butterscotch.  I, on the other hand, look and sound exactly like a mare. I have a light yellow coat, slate grey eyes, and even my name isn't safe: Lily White.

But I'm fine with it. I'm even fine being gay. I like to think how awkward it would be if I was straight. I try to hit on a girl, and I get told she's not into mares.

"I knocked him out." What else can I say?

"You can get in a lot of trouble!" Butterscotch was keeping his voice down. Good job buddy.

"Blueberry wouldn't want to let it be known that ‘the girly lad’ could beat him up." That was true. There was no way he’d risk it.

Butterscotch calmed down. I took a sip of my mango smoothie. We were in the local soda fountain. It was a nice little place with red and white booths lining the walls. At the entrance there's a magazine rack that holds a lot of comics for the young ones to read (and me too, if there's any new Batmare issues).

Butterscotch and I just talk about school and work. I work at the florists on most days, including school days. At least for school you only have to study at home and go in three days a week to take tests and turn in papers. They say it's a lot like college, but it's better than five seven hour days every week.

Butterscotch is telling me about how his brother thought I was a girl the first time I came over to their home, which doubles as their candy store.

I tell him why I love using the computer for school work. It's so I can title the assignments ".ass."

It's time to leave, so after a parting kiss I trot home. Smiling.

"I'm home grandma!" I shout down the hall.

It's just past six o'clock and I'm back from the florists. I like working there, tending the flowers and this may be cruel, but it's funny when a customer hits on me and I tell them I'm a guy. Priceless.

"I ain't deaf Lily!" That's her.

Grandma is hilarious. Her name is Cake Batter, but she tells anyone who asks for her name that it's "Grandma".

We hug like we always do. She may be old, but she was a strong mare.

"I have a surprise for you!" Grandma said.

When Grandma has a surprise, that usually means cake. You may be thinking, so what? It's just cake. I have to tell you, Grandma's cake is the best thing you could ever taste. "Cake?"

"No."

That derailed my train of thought. "What is it then?" I ask, dumb founded.

She only smiles. "Go in your room and see darling."

I race up to my room. My mind is racing. What could it be? Books? Maybe. Grandma knows that I love books.

I'm at my room.

I open the door.

I see a normal sized white box.

I open the top with my magic.

And pull out a dress.

"You like it? It was in the attic," Grandma says, assuming the air of elderly innocence, "It will look so good on you!"

I'm speechless for a second. "It's a dress."

"I ain't blind either! I know full well it's a dress!" She regains her innocent air, "Prom is soon, ain't it?"

"Uhhhh... yea. It is. But, this is a dress. I'm a boy, Grandma." I reply.

"Ya sure?" What was going through her head right now? Her face was emotionless. Too emotionless.

She started laughing. Then I joined that little party. After we stop rolling on the floor, she turns to me and says, still giggling, "Yea, I made a cake, an' cakes are for eating. I made it chocolate with chocolate chips in it," my personal favorite, "Come on down and tell me about your date."

I follow her down to the dining room. But one thing keeps nagging at me. Something that has been nagging me for a while now. What Grandma said, about me being sure I'm a boy.

I'm not sure, not at all.