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Push Me

"Morning, Spitz."

"Heya, Soar."

The table for two in the back corner of the cafeteria was taken yet again by Spitfire and Soarin, two near graduates of the academy. They were, as Captain Floreo himself had stated, "Two very promising future members of the team. They make a fine pair." Spitfire was the fastest pegasus in the Academy by far, while Soarin rivaled most gymnastics artists in flexibility.

They had been friends for as long ago as flight school, learning how to fly from one another and using each other's tricks to develop new ones. Their fame had spread so much that even some of their fellow cadets were skittish around them.

"Graduation's coming up," Spitfire said nonchalantly, sipping her orange juice. It was hard to judge her expression on this particular morning. Soarin attributed it to lack of sleep. "You excited?"

"Who wouldn't be?!" Soarin exclaimed, nearly knocking his scrambled eggs off the table. "Our wildest dreams coming true! And at the age of seventeen!"

Spitfire sighed, letting some anxiety trickle into her expression. "I'm not exactly happy about it."

Soarin did a double take at these words. Just last month, Spitfire had seemed just as eager as him, if not more. "Hey, something wrong?"

"Yeah." The reply came simply, as if she couldn't be bothered to spit out anymore.

Silence descended over them as they picked at their breakfast. Spitfire wasn't eating much, preferring her orange juice over her bagel, where Soarin was scarfing down anything that looked appealing.

"...You gonna tell me or what?" Soarin finally said, through a mouthful of eggs.

Spitfire let her breath out through her nose and put down her orange juice. "There's a lot of pressure on me from my dad. All this time he's been thinking my drive to become a Wonderbolt is 'a stupid fantasy'."

"That's it?" Soarin pressed. "Just pressure? Spitfire, I've known you for ten years to work well under pressure."

“Well, maybe some of it’s getting to me now, Soar,” she replied, nostrils flaring.

Soarin began to worry. This wasn't the mare he knew at all. “What kind of pressure could possibly cause you to slip? You’re the Academy’s best flyer and you know it—!”

At this, something sparked in Spitfire’s eyes, and she straightened without warning. "Soarin, he wants me to become a captain, for Celestia's sake! You wanna talk about p-pressure? It's really bucking d-d-difficult to enjoy something when you can't st-stop walking the tightrope over hell!"

Another silence. Spitfire went limp and studied her hooves for a bit. Some concerned classmates looked over, hearing the yelling, but they soon went back to talking with their friends and eating. Soarin pretended he hadn’t noticed the stutter.

Since he had met her, Soarin hadn’t failed to notice rare moments when Spitfire tripped over her words. When he had asked her about it, she had seemed touchy about the subject, saying no more than, “It comes out when I’m agitated, okay?”

"Look, Spitz, I'm sorry —" Soarin started, putting his hooves up as if defending himself against another onslaught of words.

"Don't you dare apologize, Soarin." The mare looked up and met Soarin's wide, apologetic eyes with her own stony pair. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I need a minute." Without another word, she raced outside, the door swinging roughly behind her.

Soarin shrugged. “Beginning of summer might be getting to her,” he thought aloud, and picked up her untouched bagel.

After finishing his extra-large breakfast, Soarin gave his plates and utensils to the dishwashers and left the cafeteria for his dormitory.

Wonderbolts Academy was "one of Equestria's top boarding schools for pegasi, specializing in advanced flight maneuvers, military training, and leadership". At least, that was how the flyer Soarin had received in the mail five years ago had put it. Upon arriving, he had found that it was indeed one of the best schools he had visited before the beginning of his high school career. He and his classmate, Spitfire, had practiced to become one of their number for years, and now all they had to do was audition. Naturally, they had begged their parents to let them apply, and while it had seemed pointless to their mothers and fathers at the time, it had paid off.

As he entered his bedroom, Soarin let that ring in his mind. It really has paid off, hasn't it?

He looked over his walls. Numerous advertisements for Wonderbolts performances hung on the walls, suspended by tacks. His cadet flight suit was stored in the open closet, with his old middle school uniform (for the nostalgia) and his Canterlot field trip attire. A picture of his family claimed his nightstand, next to one of Spitfire, and his monthly class schedules. Glancing at the space for today, he noticed that there weren't any classes in session.

I've got the day to myself, he thought, getting into his bed and relaxing.

Unfortunately, getting to sleep was impossible. Spitfire was occupying his mind; how she had seemed abrasive and withdrawn at breakfast, how she had shouted at him about pressure, and (of course) the stutter. Something was wrong.

He turned over various possibilities in his mind. Could be just what I thought it was. I mean, it happens all the time at my house; my parents get agitated at each other and me more than usual during this time of year. Or it could be...well, I don't want to say depression, but it seems like one heck of a slump.

Wait a second, hasn't she been acting like this for a while now? Maybe it was hard to notice at the time, but I think I remember something like this back from last year... Did it get worse?

As hard as he tried to think about any other possibility, Soarin had to come to the conclusion that Spitfire was probably suffering from some small form of depression.

His class schedule said that cadets could do what they wanted from now until their sundown curfew. Soarin resolved to go find his friend.

Exiting his room, he took to the hallways, navigating with his five years of knowledge to the courtyard, where he thought she might be. Just having friendly conversations there was something the pair did all the time. Alas, she wasn't to be found anywhere near the courtyard, not even when Soarin decided to search above.

He next decided to check the boundaries of the academy. Many of the cadets that he had seen at breakfast were holding pickup hoofball games or racing on the track. No bright orange mane stood out on the ground, so he took to the air.

Spinning a midair three-sixty, he finally spotted Spitfire on a lone cloud high above the Academy. Sunlight shone directly on her, creating a very romantic scene. Or it would have been one, if Soarin had cared at all to notice. Instead he streaked toward her. She looked up at him slowly and blinked.

"Soarin..."

"Spitz, I gotta talk to you, now." Soarin hovered uncertainly in front of her.

"Soarin," she repeated, as if deaf to him.

Soarin settled down beside her. Her eyes were red and puffy, turned towards the clouds below her.

"Yeah, I'm here. Look, I've —"

"Push me." Spitfire interrupted him, looking very serious and determined.

Soarin was quite taken aback. "Er... Spitz, we're not on the swings."

"I know. I want you to push me off this cloud."

"What!? Spitfire, you're out of your mind!"

"Just do it."

The words hung in the chilly stratosphere air as if suspended by tiny silk threads. Spitfire spoke again after a long while.

"S-Soarin, I was offered a position."

Soarin gaped. "...I don't know what to say."

"You were too. You 'n me are going to be Second Lieutenants tomorrow."

"I'd say that's great news, but why?" Soarin asked.

"We're replacing two members who retired from paralysis in their back legs after a head-on collision. They were both 40 years old, at the end of their career." Spitfire bowed her head.

"Well, that's some news," Soarin replied blankly.

Out of nowhere, Spitfire grasped his head in her hooves.

"Don't you get it?!" she pratically screamed in hysteria. "We're g-going into one of the most risky b-businesses in all of Equestria, and you're just smiling like a d-d-dope!" She had to take a deep breath before continuing in a strangled but lower tone, "I-I love you, Soarin. As a f-friend. I don't want to l-l-leave you because I make some stupid mistake in the routine..."

"Spitz, it's okay, I hear ya. Just hang on, we can still refuse —"

She seemed to not be listening to his words at all. "I need some way out of this. Push me, and it'll be over."

"Spitfire, listen to me. Your mother wouldn't want you to do this."

"I'll do it myself if you won't," she said. "I can't handle myself in the field, not on this tightrope, not with this stress, no matter how fast I am. I'm the fastest pegasus in the Academy and I can't even live up to my own expectations."

"Spitfire. Stay with me here." Soarin pulled her into a tight embrace.

"No. Staying with you means the chance of losing you," she said. "Let me go, and we can both live out our lives. I'll be watching you every day from my room, on TV."

Soarin felt his heart drop. "Spitfire, I won't do it. We can still live together, here, in Cloudsdale. With the Wonderbolts, y'know, your idols! C'mon, Spitz, sometimes you gotta take some risks!"

At Soarin's attempt at an inspirational speech, Spitfire wrestled herself from his grasp. "Soarin, I really don't —"

Not wanting to endanger his friend more, Soarin floundered towards Spitfire once more in hopes of holding her again, but missed the mark completely and pushed her shoulder, throwing her off balance.

"No, no, no!" he cried, trying to catch her before she slipped off the cloud completely, but he was too late. She fell past him like a rock tossed from a third-story window, and kept falling until she rammed into the cumulus cloud supporting the Academy.

Someone screamed, and some cadets stopped playing and came running; maybe to see if Spitfire was all right, or maybe to see something exciting happen. Soarin couldn't have cared less as he leapt over the side of the cloud, flaring his wings out inches above the roof and gliding safely to Spitfire's now unconscious form.

"MEDIC!" one cadet shouted. No one else spoke, looking on in shock. Minutes later, a chariot with a large red cross on it landed swiftly, some distance away from Soarin.

"Sir, we'll take it from here," the driver told him as the medical chariot loaded his best friend onto a stretcher.

Soarin looked at the nurse blankly without saying anything. He couldn't get the moment out of his head, when he had been so clumsy and... wait, what did I just do?

As the chariot rose and took off away from Cloudsdale, Soarin stood where Spitfire had lain after falling for a long while, just running a phrase through his mind: Is that really what she wanted?!