A Date With Scootaloo

by NotProud

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Human, Other, Romance, Scootaloo, Rumble, Sex
Length: 12980

You have a date with Scootaloo. (humans)

A three story serie of second person relationships between high school human ponies, inspired by the image of Scootaloo and other art by the artist MoronSonOfBoron.

A Date With Scootaloo: You are Lickety Split, a young boy just learning what it is to be a man in a world filled with curvaceous women. But it's not the busty ones who really strike your fancy, but the one who shows the most courage after what life has thrown her.

A Second Date With Scootaloo: You and Scootaloo are starting to develop a relationship, but there is still one question that plagues your mind. How did she lose her leg?

Three's a Crowd: Your relationship with Scootaloo takes a drastic turn when she starts hanging around with a guy on a motorcycle. How can you compete with an older dude who gives her the speed she craves in life?

See the remaining stories in the serie here if you have mature view turned on: http://www.fimfiction.net/story/48896/A-Date-With-Scootaloo-%28Mature-stories%29

Published 2012-04-14 16:12:08 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-19 19:45:08 UTC

A Date With Scootaloo

(A/N: I saw this picture and inspired me to write a story. This girl she is so strong and brave so I hope this shows.

I Am Not A Proud Pony

But This One I Can Be Proud Of)

*****

A Date With Scootaloo
By NotProud

My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic and all non-original characters are owned by Hasbro and Lauren Faust. No copyright infringement is intended. If you paid money to read this, please report whomever you paid to the law enforcement of your country!

Here you are, back at the same old crummy school with the same old crummy classmates. But this year, something is different.

It might have to do with your father who caught you reading My Little Sweetheart earlier this month. You got the magazine (a 50-page spread of famous ladies, even the Princesses, in various states of undress) from Rolly Polly, who with a big grin gave it to you for your 14th birthday. He said it would unlock a whole new world to you, but really it just unlocked tightness in your shorts. But you couldn't look away from the glossy photos and learned to please yourself in the shed out behind your house, overlooking the vast rolling plains that sweep up towards the mountains looming beyond Ponyville.

On that fateful day, your father, Luckily Scoop, saw you with your hand down your jeans and you became very embarrassed even though you didn't really know why. He got this far away look on his face and sat down on the bench next to you, not noticing when that hot white stuff made a big stain the front of your pants.

He's a big man, your dad, strong and broad shouldered. His dark skin is a shade deeper than your own. "Lickety, mah boi," he said, stroking his beard and raising a finger in the air, even though he wasn't facing you, "there comes a time in every young man's life when he learns things. And those things aren't the same anymore. It's okay, I say, it's okay to feel what you're feeling, just be careful, all right? Some young filly gets your knickers in a twist, you don't rush things now, hear? Treat her like a lady and save the mushy stuff for when you're older."

Dad never did make a lot of sense half the time.

Thinking back on it now, you realize that what's really changed is the girls. They've all got those lumpy things on their chests, some of them massive, as big as their own heads if not bigger. Especially Twist. You remember Twist got hers before school ended last year, and Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon teased her for it. She got the laugh though, because now those two are shooting her glares because their chests got bigger, but not even by half of hers. They must be jealous.

Yes, you noticed these things last year, but only now are you paying them any heed. Maybe it's you who changed. Yeah, you definitely can't tear your eyes away from Twist's thingies now, and you feel your cheeks getting red as you stare at her tight, tight sweater. It's so tight against them and they're so round and... and big. Why is this so entrancing?

Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara are snickering at you and this draws Twist's attention. You tear your eyes away as she turns in her seat and hope she didn't see your stares. You really have no idea why you don't want her to see. Maybe something your dad said actually made sense.

The five minute bell rings and Miss Cheerilee enters the classroom. Oh sweet merciful Luna, she's got thingies too, and they're almost as big as Twist's! For crying out loud, her shirt looks like it's about to pop every buttons! Okay, calm down, look away, don't look back, it's going to be all right. Breathe, dammit. Scoot closer to the desk so no one can see your pants getting tight. If things are going to be like this way all year, you're never going to learn anything.

Luckily, someone enters right as the last bell rings. You're not surprised to see it's Scootaloo, she's always late. She limps in with a left, right-left gait. Her right leg is looking a little more beat up than usual, the plastic dented just under the knee and scuffs and black scrapes all over it. Her sock is torn. She pulls off her bike helmet and shakes out her unruly purple hair, then gives a sigh and a pathetic half smile to Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, who wave at her.

"Scootaloo," says Miss Cheerilee, "please go put your helmet in your locker."

Scoot rolls her eyes and grunts, "Yes, ma'am," then shuffles back out.

You remember another time when things were changing and Scootaloo was at the center of it all. It was a day much like this, sitting and waiting for the first day of class to begin while avoiding the glares of the snooty rich girls. There was a series of thunk-click noises as a tiny, bedraggled Scootaloo hefted herself into the classroom on crutches. Her right leg ended at the knee, wrapped in white bandages. Behind her was her mother, a tall, wiry woman with pale skin like her daughter's, who stole up to Miss Cheerilee and held a whispered conversation with her for five minutes. You have no idea what they talked about, but you could make some guesses.

Scoot you recall didn't lift her head once, and quietly crutched her way to the back of the room, in the corner furthest from the door. Later that year, she would make friends with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, but at that moment, she had no one. You would have said something to her if you had thought of something to say, but you couldn't. What is there to say to someone in that situation?

It doesn't slow her down anymore, losing her leg. She's been through at least three prosthetics since then (she showed off her second one proudly for show and tell one year) and she's back to being cheerful and fiery, just like she always was. You still sometimes wonder if you shouldn't have said something to her, way back then. Oh well.

She shuffles back into the room and yawns loudly as Miss Cheerilee starts writing on the board.

"Welcome back to school, class!" Her voice is bubbly as usual. "I'm so happy to see all of you again! Since you're all in high school now, we'll be having a great year full of learning all kinds of new and exciting things!"

The class groans and you join in. It's pretty much the same speech she's given every year since you were in kindergarten. Since you're not starting with something fun to break the ice, that must mean that you're going to have lots of homework to do. High school is going to suck, you're sure of it.

*****

"Hey Lickety, check this out!"

Fat little Snips snickers and performs a yo-yo trick pretty well while his tall, lanky friend Snails laughs dumbly and claps his hands. You roll your eyes, those guys are losers sometimes even if you hang out with them all the time, and your attention turns toward the girls' table. It's lunchtime and because you don't get any recess anymore (another change) this is your only time to really observe your classmates without adult supervision, at least until school ends.

There are Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, chatting away at their table, probably talking about cutie marks still, because that's what they always talk about. You got yours in fifth grade, a bowl of ice cream on your right bicep because you knew that following in your father's footsteps and working at the creamery was pretty much the best thing you could ever do. Plus, you're good with putting together ice cream with toppings to make super awesome treats. But they've been trying and trying for years to get theirs, and you're pretty sure they're doing something wrong. Privately, you blame Sweetie.

Her chest hasn't grown in hardly at all, but it looks like she's trying to show it off anyway with a tight cream colored sweater. It's not a good look on her, it's kind of desperate and craving attention. Apple Bloom has overalls on like always, and since she's sitting facing your left, you can see how her t-shirt presses against them under the overalls. It's... alluring. Scootaloo's wearing a loose orange shirt, so you can't really see if she's got anything, but it's likely she doesn't, she's pretty skinny after all.

You feel a finger poke you in the shoulder and turn to see Snips again.

"Checkin' out the ladies, eh?" He grins big at you. "What's your favorite part? I'm an ass man, myself." He closes his eyes and leans back, as if this should be something he's proud of.

Snails laughs dumbly again. "Duh-huh, I like boobies!" He mimes the chest thingies with both hands.

Boobies, huh? Apple Bloom has some very nice boobies, in that case. As does Twist even more so, she's coming off the lunch line just now with a metal tray. Of course, hers are more than nice, they're freaking enormous and they sway back and forth like pendulums as she walks toward an empty seat.

Suddenly, you realize that because of the size of her chest, she can't see her feet, nor can she see the banana peel Silver Spoon tossed casually in front of her. You leap out of your chair, but before you can call out, it's too late. Twist steps on it, screams and slides forward, losing control of her tray as her boobs flop every which way. The tray makes a loud spang as it impacts the back of Apple Bloom's head, coating her hair in macaroni, cheese and applesauce.

At their table, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon are making no attempt to hide their laughter. Their boobies, somewhere around the size of Apple Bloom's, shake and quiver as they hold their sides, unable to hold their laughter. Twist begins profusely apologizing to Apple Bloom.

"Oh my goth, Apple Bloom, I'm tho thorry! I didn't thee it!"

"Ugh, if'n yew didn't have such big knockers, y'all wouldn't be so dang clumsy!"

"Oh my goth, let me help you clean up, at leatht!"

Apple Bloom pushes her away. "No, I'm goin' tuh thuh bathroom. See, this is why we ain't friends no more!"

You scowl. "I really hate those two," you say to yourself, turning your glare at the giggling duo. They've contained themselves and are busy pantomiming Twist's slipping with taters tots and ketchup. "Why are girls so mean to each other?"

"Yeah," sighs Snips dreamily, his chin resting on his elbows, "isn't she great?"

"What?" you ask.

"Diamond Tiara." He points obviously at her. "Best ass in all of Ponyville High." He sighs again. You notice that Snails, unbidden, has snuck off to help out Twist. Well, guess that's two spoken for. You get up and go over to where Rolly Polly is has just sat down and is stuffing his face. He's always been your best friend, not that you're sure why. He's not annoying like Snips or Snails. You two just get along pretty well.

"Hey Rolly."

"Hey Lickety." He burps and takes a long sip of his soda.

"I've been having some weird... things happening lately."

He lifts an eyebrow and looks at you over his cup. "What kinda things?"

"Like, I keep staring at..." Your cheeks start to burn. Even to your best friend, this is hard to admit. "Boobies."

Rolly smirks at you, but doesn't laugh. He reaches across the table, his bulky tummy scootching it a little bit, and pats you on the shoulder.

"Lickety, mah boi, you's becomin' a man! What'd I tell ya 'bout dat magazine?" He wiggles his eyebrows. "Let it ride, son."

Since when was he sound like your father?

*****

You were right: high school is going to suck, and it's not just because of all the homework you're going to have to do tonight. So much learning, so many new things, tons of weird, boring teachers. It's going to suck a lot, so you may as well make the best of things.

"Hey, Apple Bloom!"

You aren't sure why, but you call out her name as you leave school, the three "Cutie Mark Crusaders" as they call themselves walking ahead of you. They stop and Apple Bloom turns her head to look at you.

"Oh, uh, hi," she says. "You're... Lickety Split, right?"

"Yeah, hi, I just wanted to say, sorry about what happened in the cafeteria." That was really dumb, why'd you say it? "Are, uh, you all right?"

She shrugs and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, Ah'm fahn. Not like it's your fault 'r nuthin'."

"Well, uh, I just feel really bad about it is all. It's not nice of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon to pick on you girls like that." You rub the back of your head nervously. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle both give you a look. "If I'd seen it coming sooner, I would've done something about it, promise." Smooth, dumbass.

"Yeah, well, uh," Apple Bloom's eyes look everywhere but at you. "That's real sweet o' y'all to say, Ah guess. Seeya tomorrow in class or sumthin'. C'mon, gals."

Sweetie purses her lips and peers at you over her shoulder with narrowed eyes as they continue on their way, but your eyes are locked on Scootaloo and shuffling gait. Even though her legs are moving slower than her friends', she never seems to fall behind.

*****

Over the next couple of weeks, you learn about physics and trigonometry from Miss Cheerilee, and baby oil and facial tissues from Rolly. You think about Twist a lot during these times, though you feel kind of bad about it because it's obvious Snails has a crush on her. He's kind of slow, so you feel sorry for him. You try thinking about Apple Bloom instead, but those fantasies never turn into anything good, she just crosses her arms and yells at you. Maybe your imagination is broken or something.

One time, when Rolly is out sick with a stomach flu and Snips and Snails are having lunch in detention, Apple Bloom invites you over to their table for lunch. You try to tell her via expressions and body language that you appreciate the offer but in no certain terms can you be caught dead sitting at a girls table. You hope the message got through, but there's no way to know. But you take note of the fact that the CMCs seem to like you, at least, and this makes you feel better. Your fantasies still don't work though, so you try thinking about Miss Cheerilee instead and that really doesn't work. Yeah, definitely broken imagination.

Then, one day after Rolly comes back and more kids are out with the same flu, you see Scootaloo sitting alone at the table. She looks depressed, or maybe annoyed, and she's just picking at her mashed potatoes. Ignoring Rolly's looks at you, you get up and take your tray over.

"Hey."

She looks up. "Oh, hey."

"Mind if I join you? You look lonely."

She looks back down at her food. "Not lonely. But sure, whatever."

You set your tray down and sit across from her. Somehow, you can feel Rolly's eyes on the back of your neck, but you ignore him.

"How ya doin'?"

Her fork tinks against the plate and she shrugs. "Mkay."

You shrug. At least she didn't ask you to leave. You start eating again and she looks at you, ceasing playing with her food and just staring at you.

"Why you wanna know?"

You swallow a bite of your sandwich. "Just bein' friendly."

She seems to consider that for a second, then nods and digs into her food. You both eat in silence until you're finished, and then she says,

"Thanks."

"What for?"

She shrugs.

With silence spreading between you two, you scratch at your cheek and feel a little fuzzy stubble there. Dang. You hear giggling behind you. It's no doubt Diamond and Silver, but you pay them no heed. You feel like you ought to be saying more, but just like back in fourth grade, you can't make the words happen.

"Hey Lickety." She says it as if she's lost your attention, which she may have, but you don't say anything.

You're glad she broke the quiet. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. For keepin' me company. We should hang out sometime or something."

"Cool." You nod. The five-minute bell rings. That's all there is to be said.

*****

She slips you a note in class: "Meet me at the track after school." You have no idea why, but your heart pounds for the rest of the day after you read that. It's with shaky fingers that you pick up your knapsack when the final bell rings and zip out the classroom door, as eager to be away from that crucible of learning as you are nervous to find out what awaits you at the track.

Disappointingly, the answer is: nothing. Not at first, anyway. You set down yourself on a bench, thinking you're probably early, and look around to see if she's here. The running track behind the school, a whole half mile oval loop, is build inside a small sports stadium, with an American Football Field inside itself. The clouds are lofting lazily by in the blue sky and you can see the green and blue pennants (your school colors for your team, the Timberwolves) at the top of the bleachers waving in a breeze you can't feel. Everything's peaceful, strangely. You've never been out here by yourself before, and in this random calm, you can only breathe deeply of the scent of mown grass and trees, close your eyes, and smile.

"Hey, there you are!"

Your entire body convulses and you fall off the bench. It's not exactly the manliest thing you could have done.

"Geez, did you fall asleep or something?" Scootaloo laughs and drops a cylindrical blue bag at your feet. Maybe you did, though you could swear you've only been here for a few minutes. She's right, though, you see other girls in running shorts warming up around the track. Their stretching and the shortness of their shorts draws your eyes until you feel a poke in the shoulder.

"Hey, hold this for me, would ya?" Scootaloo isn't looking at you, but she is holding her prosthetic leg out at you. You are suddenly very, very creeped out. She's standing with her missing leg away from you, but you can see where she's holding the knee joint back, the stub where it ends is covered by a nylon sock like thing. You look up at her with, you fear, a very stupidly expression.

"Come on! It's not gonna bite you."

You take the leg and set it gingerly on the bench beside yourself. The moment it's out of her hands, she hops once, then with her other hand places something on the end of her leg.

It's interesting: a black cup that fits around her leg stump and then has a scoop like blade that comes down from it in a curve. When she get it on, she stands on it and it touches the ground like a normal leg, except it curves way back from where a calf would be. She bounces once and it flexes, then she nods.

"That thing," she says, pointing to the disembodied leg beside you, "is gettin' kinda small, but this still fits like a charm. That's all that matters." She grins at you. "Watch me run?" She heads over toward where the others are warming up and you can't help but notice that her ass looks FANTASTIC in those tight blue shorts. You're going to have to face it: this is your life now, looking at girls and thinking dirty things about them. Why does life have to be so hard?

Anyway, your eyes drift from her pert cheeks to the thing sitting next to you. It's kind of uncanny, the black shoe and white sock pointed at you so that it really does look like a leg. You turn it around and look down the length. The top is molded to fit what's left of her leg, you assume, but the rest is hollow and not plastic, but fibreglass. It doesn't quite match her skin, yellow instead of sun-kissed, but from the inside the artificiality becomes obvious, where outside it does look more like skin, at least at a distance. You set the leg down and decide that watching the girls is a better use of your time.

You recognize a couple of them (Archer, Tootsie Flute), but it's obvious the track team includes older girls, who you don't know. None of them have particularly well developed chests, even the upperclassmen, which is kind of disappointing, although the view when they all turn away from you to face their coach teacher is priceless. Snips had the right idea. You could get used to this.

Then they run. You keep focused on Scootaloo in particular, watching as her chest bounces against her tight sports bra, but more fascinated by her gait. She has a very easy stride, with the running scoop acting like a spring, carrying her wait on every alternate step at it flexes and elongates. You can even hear the squeak ching, squeak ching as she runs past you. It's fascinating.

More than that, you can tell she really likes running. Her face looks more alive than it has all week, even when her other friends weren't out sick. It must have been horrible when she lost her leg, you realize. She probably thought she'd never run again, but here she is, keeping pace with...

Make that surpassing her teammates. She's the fastest runner out there! You know they aren't competing, but you can't help standing up to cheer as five of the fastest runners form an impromptu race and she blows them all away.

That's really admirable. Some part of you will wonder, if you went through such a trauma, whether you'd be bouncing back to live life like she has. In fact, if your behavior over the past few days was any indicator, you'd just curl up and whine about how much life sucked.

Well no more. Your path is clear now. You wait until Scootaloo comes back to get her bag. Before she can say anything, you cut her off: "Scootaloo, you wanna go out somewhere?"

This is it. You just grabbed life by the nuts, mister

She blinks at you, like she doesn't understand what you just said. Then, really slowly, she says, "Yeah, sure, Lickety. How'd I run?"

You did it. Just like that, wham, you're going out with Scootaloo. You think. You maybe didn't phrase it right. And you have no idea where you're going to go. Your stomach turns into a knot as you realize she's waiting for an answer.

"Yeah! Uh, I mean, you were awesome! I had no idea you were so fast!"

She gives you biggest smile. It was the right answer. "I know, right? I've been training hard all summer, I think it really paid off!" She sits down on the bench this time to change prosthetics, which you're glad for. You find yourself staring nevertheless, though she doesn't seem to notice. You notice that over her shoulder, you can get a real eyeful of what's in her shirt. She's not huge like Twist, or even Apple Bloom, but she's got a nice pair after all, held firm in a clingy grey sports bra.

Great, now your pants are getting tight again. Not to mention wet.

Hoping that you're being subtle about it, you heft your satchel up and let it hang in a casual manner in front of your crotch. You're pretty sure she didn't notice. Smooth.

Now, with her proper leg on and her running blade stowed in her own sack, she turns to you expectantly.

"So ace, where we goin'?"

Panicking, you think of the first place that comes to mind. "How about ice cream?"

Her face lights up. "You just said the magic words, Lickety Split!"

She turns around and marches off and you take the opportunity to let out that breath you've been holding. Things are going better than planned.

*****

On the trip to your dad's ice cream shop downtown, you two talk more than you have in the past month. Not about anything important, of course, and Scootaloo does most of the talking (about Rainbow Dash), but it makes the long walk enjoyable.

Ponyville is kind of a hick town, a far suburb of bustling Canterlot and distantly removed from larger cities like Hoofington or Manehattan. There's everything a young man needs to find there, and the nightlife can be fun if you dad actually lets you go out, but it is still pretty small. That said, the high school is located on the edge of the Whitetail Woods, about as far east as you can go and still be in town, so you get to see most of Ponyville on your way.

It's spring, and there's a last little chill breeze in the air as the afternoon sun watches your progress. Trees are starting to bloom, flowers too, and the creek that cuts the town in half is bubbling merrily. Buildings pass by and you keep your gait short because Scoot has some trouble going fast with her hollow leg.

"Let me tell you," she's saying, "the minute I get home, I'm throwing this dumb thing away and making my mom get a new one. I've way outgrown it, it itches, I'm ready for something that won't hold me back."

That's maybe a little more info that you wanted, but you try to be supportive. "You totally should." Thankfully, you're here at the shop, so the conversation need not continue.

Luckily's Scoops is a two-story edifice striped red and white. The top floor holds a pair of apartments he rents out, but the main store is spacious and filled with knickknacks your dad collects, from like a hundred years ago. You go to hold the door open like a gallant gentleman when something stops you. You look at Scootaloo, her face expectant and curious.

"Uh... Would you mind waiting here a sec?" You put on a cheesy grin and she gives you a look.

"Uh. 'Kay, I guess." She lifts her left eyebrow.

You flash your grin again and duck inside, keeping a hand to the door as you hiss, "Dad!"

His voice booms out "Lickety, mah boi!"

"Dad, okay, shut up a second, please." You grit your teeth. This is not the best idea. "I'm kind of here with a girl. If you could please not embarrass me..."

"Say no more!" Your dad flashes you a way better grin than you could ever manage. You swear his teeth gleam when he does that. "But you're gonna owe me for later!"

You roll your eyes and open the door. Scootaloo's got her arms crossed, but she moves in without hesitating. You put on the gallant doorman impression.

"Sorry about that. It would have been a total disaster if they were out of double mint chip."

She gives you a look like "You're kidding me?" and then your dad booms out, "Welcome, to Luckily's Scoops, where everything's fresh and full of fruits!" You really hate that rhyme." What can I get you kids?"

You must've sold her on the double mint chip, because after scanning the veritable selection of ice creams, she gets a waffle bowl with it. You go for your favorite, vanilla with cookie dough and Oreos in a pretzel cone, and make a show of paying for both. Even if your dad doesn't comp you later, somehow you think you'll be okay about it. You dad says nothing else that isn't business related, and you find yourself all too willing to owe him.

This is really a real date, isn't it? Too late to be nervous about it now!

Thanking the 'kind sir' behind the counter, you once again hold the door open so Scootaloo can leave. There's a nice little pair of tables with chairs and sun umbrellas set up outside the shop, and you both take a seat at one and eat your ice cream in silence. Well, you kind of make slurping noises as you lick the drips around the edge of the cone, but neither of you says anything. It's kind of nice to just sit with someone and say nothing and not feel like anything needs to be said. You keep trying to catch her eye (mostly by staring at the side of her head), but she remains focused on her ice cream spoon.

You lick your lips. You think back to the weird scene with Apple Bloom after school the other day. Unlike that, you've been rehearsing this moment, well any time you weren't whacking it to her friends.

"Hey, Scootaloo..."

"Yeah?"

"You remember... back in fourth grade?"

Her eyebrows peak. She remembers all right. She takes another bite of ice cream. "Yeah."

"I just wanted to say..." You can feel heat rising into your face. This isn't anything big, why is it hard to say? "Just wanted to say sorry."

She gives you a look. "Sorry?"

"Yeah. For not saying anything." Your eyes burn holes into the ice cream cone. "You looked like you needed a friend then, but I couldn't think of anything to say."

She nods, slowly. "Me either."

She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. She looks like she's going to say something else, until a woman with heaving breasts secured by a tight cyan sports bra jogs past, her rainbow-striped hair fluttering behind her. Scootaloo shoots straight up out of her seat, and it's only by some miracle that you're able to save her ice cream from toppling off the table. She does not notice your brave act of heroism because she's too busy hopping up and down and shouting, "Rainbow Dash! Rainbow Dash!"

The woman, hearing her name, skids to a stop and, panting for a moment, jogs back over your way. "Hey there, squirt, what's up? Who's your friend?" Her voice squeaks a little bit. You've never met her before, and you're trying not to stare at her chest.

"Oh my gosh, it's so awesome you're here, Rainbow Dash!" Scoot's eyes are enormous and she's smiling like an idiot. "I was running after school, and I totally put on this extra burst of speed, and..."

"Whoa, slow down kid!" Rainbow Dash turns her attention to you, and your eyes snap up to hers. She smirks. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were on a date right now."

Scoot looks slightly horrified, turns to look at you, and then looks away. You do as well and share in her blush.

"Uh, yeah, kinda, I guess..." She pokes her fingertips together nervously. This is not any side of Scootaloo you've ever seen before, not that you know here really deeply.

Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes. "Well, introduce me, sheesh. What kind of a date is this, anyway? What's your name, kid?"

"Lickety Split, ma'am. Nice to meet you."

Rainbow Dash narrows her eyes at you and puffs out a breath. "Don't ma'am me. You make me sound like somebody's mom. Name's Rainbow Dash. You treatin' Scoots good?"

You sit up a little straighter. "Yes, ma- I mean, Miss Dash."

"He totally is, Rainbow Dash," Scootaloo says. "We've been having a good time, right?"

You have. Wow, awesome. "Yeah, it's been fun."

Rainbow Dash nods approvingly. "Just remember, squirt, it ain't cool to ignore your date." She tosses her rainbow hair and you wonder how she got it like that. "Anyway, I gotta get another two miles in before tonight. Catch ya later!" With a wave, she takes back off jogging the way she was going.

Scootaloo gives you a lopsided smile as she retakes her seat. After a pause she says, "Sorry for kind of, uh... ignoring you there. Rainbow Dash is my idol, I'm always happy to see her."

"Hey, it's no big deal, really." You give her a confident smile. No point in getting all sad over this, right? "I am having fun, after all. I mean... since this is a date and all."

"Yeah..." She gets a faraway look for a moment.

"Hey, Lickety?"

"Yeah?"

"You meant what you said earlier, right? About that day I came to class..."

"Yeah." You look down. "I feel bad about it now. I just couldn't think of anything to say."

She puts her hand on your shoulder. "I try not to let the past hold me back, and you shouldn't either. You're a good guy, and I appreciate that you're showing me a good time and stuff. If it's cool, I think we should do this again sometime."

You stare into her eyes. They're violet. She smiles and you return it.

"Does this mean you're like... My girlfriend or something?"

"Eww!" She sticks her tongue out, wrinkling her nose. "It's just one date, don't be weird!" Then she laughs and you do as well.

It's been a good day.

A Second Date With Scootaloo

(A/N: Hello and welcome to part 2 of “A Date With Scootaloo”;

Also I used a spellcheck this time.

Please note that maybe the next parts will not be SFW.

As always,

I Am Not a Proud Pony

But This One I Can Be Proud Of

...For Now)

*****

A Second Date With Scootaloo
By NotProud

My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic and all non-original characters are owned by Hasbro and Lauren Faust. No copyright infringement is intended. If you paid money to read this, please report whomever you paid to the law enforcement of your country!

The zombie shambles forward, a low moan on its lips. The woman, one shoe missing and her top ripped and torn, staggered back, tripping over her remaining high heel and snapping it clean away. Tears roll down her face as she sobs helplessly, clutching at the mossy ground and screaming her lungs out.

“Yeah! Eat her brains, zombie!”

You sink down lower in your chair, hoping to avoid the stairs from other theater goers. Scootaloo is of course standing, leaning forward over the seat in front of her, arms raised above her head as she valiantly cheers the zombie hoard forward.

There's another scream and the sound of ripping flesh. Scootaloo cheers loudly and the other patrons start to yell at her.

“You damn kids, would you sit down?”

“Where the heck are your parents?”

“Can you all shut up? We're trying to watch the movie!”

You groan and cover your eyes and definitely do not watch the movie. You feel Scootaloo flump into the seat beside you at least.

“Oh man,” she says, no less enthusiastic but less loud, “here comes the guy with the chainsaw to ruin everything!” A roaring mechanical noise heralds the rending of zombious flesh, too late to save the heroine. “I take that back, this is just as cool as the zombies!”

You sigh.

*****

“Man, that was wicked awesome!” Scootaloo is bouncing slightly as she walks beside you out of the movie theater. “You really know how to pick a movie, Lickety!”

You roll your eyes. “You picked it, remember?”

She flashes you a wicked grin. “Oh yeah, I forgot! Still, wasn't that awesome? All that blood and guts everywhere!”

You laugh, despite yourself. “Yeah, I guess it was. Glad you liked it, anyway.”

“Hey, as long as you're payin', you can take me to the movies whenever!”

That sure sounds promising. You find a spring making its way into your step as well.

This has been just your second date with Scootaloo, and although she's not the sappy romantic type (and face it, neither are you, really), she seems to be really open to the idea of you two being in a... a big-R word.

It's kind of scary, but more like going on a rollercoaster than standing on a high cliff. You haven't been moving too fast, and you've had a great time hanging around with her.

Of course, there are some... hangups. Speaking of which, here come two of them right now.

Apple Bloom is wearing her usual coveralls, that show off her figure if you look at her from the right angle. Sweetie Belle is dressed in a loose sweater despite it being a warm day, and her little poofy hat is cocked to one side on her head. She's such a hipster sometimes.

“Well howdy,” says Apple Bloom with a edge in to her voice. “Sure is a nice to day hang out with your FRIENDS, isn't it Sweetie?”

“Uh-huh.” She nods vigorously and somehow her hat stays on. “Why, I believe there are all kinds of things that FRIENDS can do on a day like today, aren't there, Apple Bloom?”

Scootaloo butts in. “Geez, girls, chill out. Lickety wanted to go see a movie, and I seem to recall the last time I did that with you two, somebody chickened out at the good part.”

Sweetie goes pale. “Well, maybe i-if you didn't like those gross horror movies so much...”

“Whatever,” Scootaloo says with a hand on her hip. “If you two wanna hang out, just say so, don't act all weird and stuff, geez.” She looks at you. “Mind if I take off?”

You shrug. You honestly hadn't planned anything after the movie.

“Cool. Seeya, Lick.”

She heads off in the direction you were going, but Apple Bloom and Sweetie close ranks behind her.

“Meet us after school tomorrow,” Apple Bloom says, her tone dark and sinister.

“Come alone,” Sweetie adds, her eyes narrows. Then they walk away, though they don't turn until after a few paces, keeping their eyes on you.

You swallow and feel a lump in your throat. What the crap just happened?

*****

That evening, you get home and find your dad waiting for you with a grin.

“How'd my boy's big date go?” His voice is too loud, this means he's excited or hiding something.

“Pretty well, I guess. Her friends showed up and things got weird though.” You shrug and stuff your hands in your pockets.

“Swell, mah boi, just swell!” Dad claps you on the shoulder and almost knocks you over. “Say, you haven't forgotten about that little promise you made a week or so ago, have you?”

Sadly, you had until just now. No getting out of it, you suppose. “No dad, I haven't forgotten.” You sigh and let your shoulders slump. “What do I have to do?”

“Oh, nothing hard, nothing hard.” Your dad's grin gets evil. “It's just, I've been thinking that the storage room in back of the ol' shop has gotten pretty cramped and musty and disorganized. So you and me, we'll have a little father-son bonding while cleaning it out, what say?”

Hmm. “Well, I guess it could be worse.” It sure could have been. You were thinking about mucking outhouses or horse stables or digging ditches. This is going to be easy, if a lot of work. “All right, when do we get started?”

“How about right now?” Dad laughs, loudly, as though he's the only one who understands the joke. “We'll do a little here and a little there. Just when we have time.”

“All right, dad.” You smile. Hey, you could always find neat old crap in the storehouse. This might actually be fun!

...Right?

*****

The threats of Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle are last on your mind as you walk to school the next morning, still sore from the evening's cleaning. Your first move into sorting the storage room with your dad involved far more of moving boxes around and clearing an area to work in than finding neat stuff to look through. You slept like a rock last night.

But what is more exciting is what you saw yesterday (it was Monday) on a bulletin board. A piece of blue paper that read,

SPRING TRYOUTS BEGIN
Tennis
Swimming
Lacrosse
Football
American Football
Track

To be honest, you'd all but forgotten how much you like playing football. After the injury during the summer which you broke your leg in before sixth grade and you had stopped playing during middle school. Then your studies became harder and the sport just dimmed out of your life, replaced by other pursuits. But you always really loved playing it, and now the chance to get back into it has you feeling like lightning is in your shoes. You only hope that you haven't gotten too out of shape in the past couple of years.

That thought makes you stop. What if you have got too out of shape? You haven't been doing any sport for the remaining years, and though you are still skinny like always, you might not have the stamina needed to run a lot.

Downcast, you turn from the poster, and then you catch a sight: the back of Scootaloo (and her sweet ass) headed down the hall away from you. That fake leg is what catches your attention. She finally got it replaced, and now she walks with a spring in her step, not literally, but she can without limping like she had been the past semester.

She did it, is what you think. And what that means is, she had a terrible accident and injured her leg, though hers is gone where yours was just broken. But she bounced back and now she runs track because she loves to do it. So if she could do that, there is no way you are going to let two years of not playing football stop you from taking it back up.

You lift your head up, nod to yourself, and go to the office of the gym teacher to sign up.

*****

The rest of the day does not pass so easily. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle keep their eyes on you whenever you are anywhere near each other. By fourth period, they've seriously got under your skin. By the end of the day, you can swear they're watching from the vents in the ceiling. The whole time, they have this very serious expression that just creeps you the fuck out. Needless to say, you are not looking forward to meeting them after school, but you are also not going to chicken out. Your dad wouldn't let you live down being scared by a couple of girls if he ever found out.

Still, you are kind of wishing Scootaloo was around as they approach you behind the school when the final bell rings. With a sniff, you saddle up your rucksack and march out the back door. You are ready to take what's coming to you like a man.

It doesn't take you long to find Sweetie Belle lounged against a tree and then Apple Bloom shouts, “Hey Lickety, over here!”

Strange. After all that time they spent glaring at you in the halls, now they're both... smiling? You find yourself getting put to ease even as something in your mind shouts, “Wait, no, they're just trying to get your guard down!”

apple Bloom gets right to the point before you have a chance to act on that thought.

“Hey, Lickety, listen, Ah'm real sorry if'n we all scared ya. But this thing a-tween you 'n Scoots, well...”

“We want to make sure,” says Sweetie, “that you aren't going to take her away from us.”

“She's our friend.”

“We also want to make sure-” and here Sweetie crosses her arms and glares at you once more- “that you are a gentleman and treat her nice, because if you hurt so, so help me!”

“Girls, I...” You hold up your hands, hoping it will placate them. “Look, I don't wanna break up your friendship, promise. We've only been on two dates, it's not like we're getting married.”

They relax a bit. Apple Bloom smiles.

“And yeah, I'm not gonna do anything bad to her. Trust me, she could probably beat me up if I did.”

That gets a laugh out of Sweetie Belle.

“Okay then,” says Apple Bloom, and pats you on the shoulder. You realize that she's a good 10cm or so taller than you. “Then if'n you wanna, we all can hang out sometime, okay?”

Sweetie grins. “Yeah! And you can totally tell us about how you got your cutie mark! I know you've got one, right?”

You turn your eyes to the side. “Uh, yeah.” You roll up your right sleeve and show them the bowl of ice cream that's there.

Cutie marks show a person's talent, when they realize what it is they can do well and want to do in life. No one is really sure how or why they show up, but they can be anywhere on the body. Some people have even had them show up on their entire face, which can sometimes be bad, but usually those are artists and they make it part of their persona. It is more typical for a cutie mark to show up on the shoulder like yours, or on the hips or other easily-covered area. It's normal to show them off when you get them, no matter where they are.

“Huh.” Sweetie seems unimpressed. “Well, totally tell us sometime, okay?”

You shrug. “It's not a great story, but sure.”

“hey, what are you all talking about?”

You turn and see Scootaloo coming out of the school with her track bag. The other two turn and wave to her.

“Lickety, you gonna watch me practice today?”

You sigh. “Nah. I gotta go finish helping my old man with something. But I do wanna hang out sometime.”

“How about over the weekend?”

“Sure.”

Man, it feels so natural now. It's like you two aren't even talking about going out, you just say things and then something happens. Sweetie blows a whistle and when you look at her, she waggles her eyebrows.

“We'll watch ya, Scoot!” cries Apple Bloom. “Seeya later, Lickety!”

You wave as they take off toward the track, sigh again, and head for home.

It's not just the work involved, you realize. It's that you're not getting to spend time with her. Even in the company of her weird friends, that's all you want to do right now.

Of course, it could be that you just want to get out of work and be anywhere but helping your dad. Dumb feelings, why are they so hard to figure out?

But things might be getting serious between you and Scootaloo. That's exciting, far more than it is scary. You can't wait for the weekend.

*****

The rest of the week sees you trying out for football and making it easily onto the team. You and the coach are both pleased with how much you remember about the game. You aren't the best player on the team, but you're definitely near the top and you don't have as much to learn that first practice to catch up, like some of the new players do. And sure, after the first practice, you are completely without breath, but it feels fun.

It's the kind of fun you haven't really felt in years. Just being able to run across the turf, whether you have the ball or not, conjures up memories of childhood spent in the warm sun. The feel of the ball bounding off your forehead or chest makes you feel powerful, like you could spin the world on its axis. You score a goal and even though it's practice you feel exhilarated. It's like you are a puzzle and a missing piece has come back to fill you in.

You'll have to see if you can get Scootaloo to watch you practice later, you think.

Doing this was such a great idea.

*****

That Saturday, you meet Scootaloo in the park. Children are out with their parents, playing with dogs and kites, and the sky is blue with few clouds and full of laughter. It's a great day to not have to do anything.

“C'mon,” she says, taking your hand, “it's quieter over this way.”

She drags you into a more secluded part of the park with fewer trees. There are lots of flowers blooming and birds singing. One man is on a high hilltop in the distance with a spyglass, watching them. You hope he's not going to watch you, too. That would be creepy.

You both end up below a large spreading oak tree. It has lots of holes in the branches so when you lay down, you can see the sky pretty clearly. Scootaloo has a big grin on her face the entire time. When you're both laying down, side by side but not touching, she says, “I love coming here and watching the sky. Don't have to worry about a sunburn because of the tree. Sometimes I just come out here and watch the sky for hours.”

You have to admit, it's a great view.

You aren't there more than five minutes (you think) before your mind starts churning. You didn't come here just to “hang out”, you wanted to talk. Specifically, you wanted to ask her something. You have to swallow a few times, because your mouth is suddenly really dry, and instead of asking, you dodge the subject.

“Hey Scoot...”

“Yeah?” She turns her head toward you a little.

“Do you know what you want to do in life?”

Her eyes flick to the side. “Well, I guess not. I mean, since I don't have a cutie mark yet and all. I try not to think about it, really. I guess I've come to terms with the whole ”you'll know it when the time is right“ junk. More than Sweetie or Apple Bloom, anyway.” She laughs softly.

You nod. “But like, is there...” Aw, heck. “I mean, I just wondered, see...”

“About my leg?”

The quickness that she says it with surprises you and makes you forget what you were about to say.

“It's okay, everyone asks eventually.” She takes in a breath.

“When I was a kid, I was really obsessed with doing everything and doing it fast. I would just tear around everywhere at breakneck speed for no reason other than it made me feel good. I idolized Rainbow Dash. I mean I still do but I was way more... obsessive I guess. Back then.”

You nod again. You've gotten to know Rainbow Dash a little bit more since you've started hanging out with Scootaloo. She's an athlete, and you're pretty sure she either drives race cars or is a pilot, you haven't figured that out just yet. But now it all makes sense.

“Anyway,” she continues,“ I used to go everywhere, and I mean everywhere, on this beat-up little scooter I had since almost before I could walk. And, well...” She turns her head away from you. “One day, I was just going too fast. It was a freak accident. I came over the hill, right into a pickup truck. It wouldn't have been that bad, but the driver freaked out and lost control.” She begins to shake a little. “I got pinned up against a telephone pole.”

There's an awkward silence. A thousand thoughts race through your head. Should you say something? You reach out to try and be physically supportive, but she rolls back toward and you pull back sharply.

“It could've been a lot worse,” she says, and her face is deadly serious. She pulls up the sleeve of her shirt on the right side and you see a wicked scar running across the front of her bicep. “I almost lost my arm, too. Thinking back on it, I was lucky it turned out this way. I think I'd have had a way harder time without an arm.”

“I'm sorry.”

She shakes her head. “That's what everyone says. There's nothing to be sorry for and I don't want your pity.” She doesn't say it harshly, but she looks immediately apologetic. “It was my fault anyway.”

“If it makes you feel better,” you say, “the other day I signed up for soccer tryouts and I got in.”

She smiles. “Really? That's cool, but I don't see-”

“Hang on, geez, let me finish.” You stick your tongue out and it helps lighten the mood. “I wasn't gonna do it at first, because I haven't played since like sixth grade and I was afraid I'd be out of shape, but then I saw you and that changed my mind.”

Scootaloo gives you a funny look. “What?”

“I mean, you like... Well, What I mean is, I thought that maybe you had something you liked to do once, and I guess I was right. And then you had your accident and it didn't stop you from running, so why was I going to let not having played for a couple years stop me?” You think that's how you wanted to put it. “And I really enjoyed my first week of playing again, even if I'm a little out of shape. So like, uh... What I mean is...”

You suddenly feel very warm, and you notice that she's very close to you. She's watching you intently, like she's hanging on your words to see what you say next. You clear your throat and your words come out kind of strained.

“I just want to say, you inspired me.”

She smiles, then immediately tries to pretend like she didn't. There's a beat, and then you kiss her on the cheek. You don't know why you did it, you barely even noticed you were, but it just suddenly happened and there you both are.

Then she punches you in the shoulder.

“Ow, what was that for?”

She pouts at you. “What was that for? Aren't you supposed to wait until the third date for the mushy stuff or something? Geez.”

As you rub your shoulder, it dawns on you. “Uh, Scoot? This technically is our third date.”

Her eyes get wide and color rushes to her cheeks. “Oh.” She suddenly takes great interest in her hands, and they're not doing anything in particular. “Well, uh... Maybe we should, uh...”

She turns and plants one on your lips. You're surprised at first, but then you just go with it, and then suddenly it's over, and oh wow, you just got kissed by a girl and it was amazing. Your pants are tight again.

“Thanks,” she says softly. “For saying I inspired you. I'd rather that than people tell me they're sorry all the time.”

“It's true,” is all you can think to say.

She gives a little half-smile. “You know, I never did get another scooter after that one got wrecked...”

You suddenly hear a voice from behind you, off in the distance. “Hey, why don't you two kids get a room!” It's the man with the spyglass.

Laughing, she grabs your hand and drags you to your feet, then takes off running. “So I guess this means you're my boyfriend now!” she calls.

Somehow, you're totally okay with that.

*****

The next week, your girlfriend comes to school on a shiny new scooter.

Three's a Crowd

(A/N: Hello again, welcome to the third story of this serie. I am sorry it takes so long but life is sometimes hard.

To remind, the next two stories will be mature rated. I will make a blog to tell when I put up a new post. In case you do not view mature stories.

This one will just be regular though.

I Am Not a Proud Pony

But This One I Am Proud Of)

Three’s a Crowd
By NotProud

My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic and all non-original characters are owned by Hasbro and Lauren Faust. No copyright infringement is intended. If you paid money to read this, please report whomever you paid to the law enforcement of your country!

One minute, you were standing outside school chatting with your girlfriend, Scootaloo. The end of the term is arriving and it is getting colder so she does not have to practice track as much, nor do you have as much football, and this means you have more after school time together.

Then the next minute she said “Bye!” and was off down the road. It happened so fast you are not sure exactly what happened. But what you do remember is that she got on a motorcycle. And also on that motorcycle was another person, with spiked-up blue hair and a leather jacket.

A guy.

*****

The next day, the same thing happens, only you don’t even get a chance to talk to her. She’s heading out of school property on the motorcycle as you come out of the building, and you are beginning to feel lost.

The next day, she’s not at your football practice like she usually is.

You can’t find her after school at all by the end of the week. You feel a void creeping into your center, like you’ve never felt before. She’s just a girl, after all. A friend. A girl friend. Your girlfriend. And now that she’s not around, you’re really starting to understand just what that word means, because it’s like you don’t have one.

What are you going to do?

*****

The only thing you can think to do is to talk to Scootaloo’s friends, who are now your friends. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.

“Do you know who he was?” you ask them one day after school, because Scootaloo is again nowhere to be seen.

“No idea,” Apple Bloom says and shakes her head. Her pink bow bobs back and forth on her head.

“Gee Lickety too bad,” Sweetie adds, “maybe she’s got a new boyfriend. Ow!”

Apple Bloom punched her in the shoulder and now Sweetie is rubbing that shoulder.

“Shut up,” shouts Apple Bloom, “he don’t need to hear talk like that right now!”

You let Sweetie’s words sink in though. There’s now a cold feeling in the bottom of your stomach and you don’t feel so good.

“But what if it’s true?” you say. “He looked a lot older than us. What if he’s like... an old flame or something?”

Apple Bloom rolls her eyes and says, “Ah’ve known Scoot long enough that Ah know she ain’t got no old boyfriends. Ah mean, we’re only sophomores, for Celestia’s sake!”

That makes sense, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. Sweetie grins at you.

“Hey Lickety, if you’re in the market for a giiiiirlfriend, I’m sing- Ow! Dammit, Apple Bloom, at least hit the other shoulder this time!”

Apple Bloom sticks out her tongue at Sweetie, who returns it, and then they start yelling and slap-fighting. Sweetie somehow manages to get the much larger and taller Apple Bloom into a headlock and gives her a noogie right on her bow. Then they both laugh and separate, and give eachother a high-five.

You kind of stand there with your jaw hanging loose. Well, at least they distracted you from your problems for a bit. You turn and head home. Still, what the hell did you just see?

Girls.

*****

“I dunno, man,” Rolly says to you the next day. “Maybe Sweetie Belle has a point. I mean, you see your girlfriend get on a bike with another dude... What are you supposed to think?”

“You’re not helping, man,” you grumble, then sigh. “I just want someone to tell me that I’m being stupid about this whole thing.” With a groan, your head hits the table and you bonk it against the surface a few times, groaning more.

“Hey Rolly, hey Lickety.” The voice is one you have heard before.

“Hey Scoot,” Rolly says and takes another bite of his sandwich. It’s not lunchtime yet, but he’s fat.

She clears her throat after a second. “I said, ‘Hey Lickety.”

You raise your head and look at her with blears in your eyes. “Hey Scoot.”

She frowns. “What’s with you?” She sits next to you at the table. “I wondered if maybe you wanted to go do something tonight, like bowling maybe, I dunno, but if you’re gonna be all weird today...”

Thoughts roil in your brain. Should you confront her? Act like nothing happened? Sneak it into conversation later? Blow up and walk away? You’re about ready to slam your head into the table again when Rolly jabs you in the side with his elbow. You glance over and see him look at out of the corner of his eyeballs. When he catches your eye he lifts his head slightly up. It’s like he read your mind. You take a deep breath.

“Sorry, Scootaloo,” you say slow. “I’m acting weird because... Who was that guy you were with yesterday?”

She seems surprised. “Oh, Rumble? Don’t worry about him.” She laughs. “We go way back.”

Somehow that does not make you feel any better. “Oh. Where’d you go?”

Her smile fades. “If it’s okay, I’ll tell you later. How about that bowling?”

“All right, sure,” you say and you force yourself to smile like everything’s okay. “That sounds fun.” Deep inside, it’s only getting worse.

We go way back, she said. Sweetie was right. And yeah, it’s possible that she’s not actually sneaking off to see him behind your back, but if not, then what is she doing? Why the secrecy all of the sudden? It’s not making you feel any better. Your suspicions are beginning to grow and smother you like a wool blanket. You have a sudden feel of drowning beneath a sea of iron weights.

“Well,” she says and snaps you could of it, “I guess I’d better get to class. And by I, I mean we.” She smiles at you, pauses a second, and then gets up, to go off down the hall.

“She’s right, you know,” Rolly says, swallowing. “We should get to class. Also, you shouldn’t worry about that, guy, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”

You nod, because he has a point, but you aren’t so sure.

*****

You considered asking your dad for advice, but somehow that idea is not appealing. You can just see him laughing his big laugh and shaking his shoulders, then dispensing some completely weird advice to you that makes no sense to anyone but him and never will. Instead, you tell him where you’re going and then go meet Scootaloo at the bowling alley, bringing along a dusty and mildewy bowling bag you got from him with his old bowling ball. It seemed like the only way to get out of the conversation with him once you’d hesitatingly started asking him about Scoot and changed your mind.

So now you’re at Fast Lanes, Ponyville’s local and only bowling alley, looking around nervously outside because you don’t see her and holding your bag in one hand and it is heavy. Maybe she’s inside? You go in.

Inside, it’s dark but well lit. There is mist in the air from people who smoke too much. The carpeting and walls are brightly colored with lots of weird designs on them. The place seems very lively, as most of the lanes are in use right now, and you hope that there will be one free when you and Scootaloo are ready to play. You look around, but don’t see any sign of her. So you settle down on a hard plastic bench to one side and wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Looking up at the clock, you see that half an hour has passed already, and still no sign of your date. Your stomach twists.

“What’s the matter, kid?” asks Mister Strike, the owner of the bowling alley. “Never seen someone come in and just sit, looking sad.”

“I look sad?” you ask. “Uh, I mean, have you seen a girl, about my age, with purple hair and a fake leg?”

Mister Strike puts a hand on his chin and hums. “Hmm. Can’t say I have tonight. Why, you two supposed to meet for a date?”

You nod. He chuckles.

“Son, sometimes things aren’t gonna go your way. Good luck finding her, though.”

Well that’s just great. Now how are you supposed to feel.

“Hey kid!” you hear a deep voice say across the alley.

You look up and see three men approaching. The one in front is tall and fat and wearing sunglasses and his beard is thin and goes around his cheeks but missed his chin, instead both sides curl up into a moustache. He wears a tan vest. The one next to him has long, blonde hair and beard and is wearing a loose grey sweater and shorts. The third one is thin and weedy and his eyes are shifty and his shirt is red. It’s the big one who spoke to you. You swallow and shift in your hair chair. It looks like you just ran afoul of one of Ponyville’s notorious bowling gangs.

“Did I hear you say you were looking for a girl, about your age, with purple hair and one leg?” the big, bearded man asks.

You nod because you cannot think of anything to say. The big man smiles, and it looks strange on him. You did not expect him to smile.

“You must be Lickety Split then. She asked me to tell you that she had to leave right after she got here. Said it was something important, and that she’d be pretty late, so you could get started without her.”

Your eyes go wide. “Um, mister...”

“Just call me Walter.”

“Walter, how did she leave?”

The thin one says, “She took off on a motorcycle with an older guy. He was wearing a leather jacket.”

Rumble!

“Sir, if you could, please let her know that I got tired of waiting.” You say it as softly as you can, but inside you are really mad. She took off and just left you here with all these weird people! And for what? With that stupid Rumble guy. That tears it. You stand and pick up your bag and head for the door.

Behind you, the guy with the blonde hair mutters, “Dude!”

*****

It’s a very long walk home with a very heavy bag. The sky grows dark and Luna raises the moon before you make it there. What a crap.

Even though it’s autumn, the air is slightly sticky and you’re covered in sweat by the time you make it home, and neither of that isn’t helping your mood. You toss the door open and stomp inside and let the bowling ball in the bag thump onto the kitchen floor. It probably makes a dent in the lino, but you don’t stop to check.

“Well,” says your dad from the other room without even looking, “sounds like you didn’t have all that great a time!”

“No.” You can’t help the hurt in your voice, it’s true.

“Wanna talk, mah boy?” he says. The weird phrase is kind of not appropriate for the moment, but somehow it also makes you reconsider not talking to him the last time. “Girl problems?”

“You can say that.”

You unload, as they say, your woes upon your father and he sits back and nods and goes, “Hmm,” sometimes and scratches at his beard, which is kind of short and scraggly because he’s started growing it in recently. You tell him about Rumble and Scootaloo disappearing and how you’ve been feeling about it all, which is badly. And then you get to tonight and the message from the bowling gang and now you’re not even sure you want to date her anymore because it seems like she’s got better things to do than go stupid bowling with you and who wants to go bowling anyways, it’s dumb.

As you catch your breath, your father nods in a sequentially more ponderous manner and finally he says, “Lickety, mah boi,” and you know it is time for that weird lecture you avoided earlier.

“Lickety, mah boi, the secret to every successful relationship is communication.”

Your eyes are closed. You wait a second. There’s nothing else coming, what the heck?

“And...?”

Your dad laughs. “And you need to communicate. You’ve got every right to feel bad about what’s going on, and what she said to you didn’t do anything to make you feel better. So now you have to do something about, and deciding to give up when you don’t know all the facts isn’t the mature way to go about things.” He nods. “Talk to her, boy. Find out what’s going on. Let her know that she can’t keep you in the dark forever. Above all else,” he holds up a finger, “ don’t say anything you’ll regret later.”

You nod, if only so you can excuse yourself and go up to your room, where you want to be alone right now. That was a lot of words, it’s hard to think, and somehow you’re not sure if this whole deal is every going to be solved. Maybe if you rest on it, your dad’s words will make sense later.

*****

It’s later, and you’re not sure you’re ready for this, or that those words make any sense. You’ve gone over the conversation a hundred times in your head, and every time, it ends up with you two calling it quits in one way or another. The good side is you find out you don’t actually want to break up with Scootaloo. But the bad side, you are pretty sure it’s going to happen now. So you take a deep breath and march your butt into school to confront the inevitable.

You find her, as usual, chatting with her friends in the lunchroom before the first bell. Scootaloo reacts immediately, frowning.

“Hey, you jerk, what’s with ditching me at the bowling alley last night?”

“You ditched me first for your new boyfriend.” It comes out before you even have a chance to think. You wince like someone stabbed you with pain. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Apple Bloom get up and grab her things.

“C’mon, Sweetie,” she says quietly, “Ah think they might wanna be alone for a bit.”

Sweetie purses her lips and goes, “Ooooh,” then grabs her stuff and follows Apple Bloom off to their first period class.

“Lickety, that’s not fair.” Scoot looks honestly hurt and you feel guilty.

You try again. “Okay, sorry, that’s not what I wanted to say.” You take a deep breath. “What I wanted to say was, who is that guy, and will you please tell me why you keep disappearing with him?”

“I told you, his name’s Rumble, I’ve known him a long time.” She crosses her arms over her chest and frowns. “What’s this about, anyway?”

“Just let me finish, please.” You hold your hands up. “Scoot, you told me that already, but it doesn’t tell me anything. You go way back. Okay. Did you date or something? Are you just friends? Are you maybe related and I’m just being stupid?”

Scoot huffs and looks away from you. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Well I do!” Your voice raises and you think about how your dad said you have a right to be upset, so you let it show through. “Scoot, I’ve got no idea what you’re doing, and too all intensive purposes, it looks like you’re just running off with another guy to do who knows what while I’m here all by myself. Can you maybe see from my view how that might be upsetting?”

You let your words sink in. Her eyes slowly widen as she thinks about them. “Oh.”

“Yeah. So I’m kind of upset because it looks like my girlfriend is running out on me. So can you please tell me what’s going on?” You bite your lip, and say more softly, “I mean, we should be able to talk about anything, right?”

“Yeah.” She sighs and nods. “You’re right. Okay.” She looks right into your eyes and you’re taken back her intenseness. “Here’s the truth. Rumble is a friend of the family. He’s like a brother to me. His older brother Thunderlane used to babysit us when we were kids, and he’s like a brother to me, too. He got in a really bad plane crash and he’s been in the hospital in a coma for weeks.”

You suddenly feel sick to your stomach. How could you have accused her when that was the truth? Even if you had no reason to suspect it.

She goes on. “Rumble’s been picking me up after school so I can see him and be there with his family. They asked me to.” She hugs herself. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I thought it was my problem, and you wouldn’t care, or if things went bad, that you wouldn’t want to hear about it.”

You reach over and put your hand on hers. “Of course I’d care! I mean... I care.” Your cheeks get hot. “Really.”

She laughs softly and sniffs. “I guess you do, since you got jealous about Rumble.”

Jealous. That’s the word that you’ve been looking for this whole time. It perfectly describes everything that you’ve been feeling. It’s an awful, sickening word, and you’re glad you can finally be rid of it.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s older, and they always say that girls go for older guys.” You laugh a little. “But he’s also got that motorcycle. And I know how much you like speed.” You frown. “I can’t really compete with that.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” says a voice, and you look up to see that it’s Rumble. He’s wearing aviator glasses and standing with his motorcycle helmet under his arm. You kind of feel a bolt like lightning pass through you and you can’t take your eyes off him, as though he might bite you if you did.

“Hey Scootie,” he says.

Scootie? Really?

“Thunder just woke up this morning. I came to see if you wanted to skip out and say hi to him.”

Scootaloo’s eyes light up. You’ve never seen her happier. “Oh man, that is so awesome! Is he all right?”

“Yeah! Doctors say he’ll make a full recovery, once his bones heal up.”

She looks at you, her face full of delight. Then she pauses and frowns, eyes glancing to you. “I don’t think he’d want me skipping school just to see him. I’ll come afterward, okay?”

“All right. That’s probably a good choice.” Rumble grins. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Lickety Split,” you stammer, and hold out your hand. He shakes. His grip is not very strong.

“He’s my... boyfriend.” she mumbles and blushes. Rumble laughs.

“Hey, honey?” calls another voice from the doorway. “There’s a cop outside saying you can’t leave your bike in the school parking lot.”

A guy comes in, wearing leather chaps with fringes and a tight pink tube top. His blond hair is done up in a weird forward wave. He steps next to Rumble and kisses him on the cheek. Your jaw drops.

Rumble says, “We’re just about to head out. Go keep him busy, Luke, I’ll be right behind you.”

Luke slaps Rumble on the butt and then saunters back out the door. Rumble nods to you and puts his helmet on.

“Lickety, nice meeting you. It might be awkward, but you can always come with Scootie if you want.”

You look at her. “Actually, I think I’ll wait for a better time and let her go. She’s family, after all.”

Scootaloo smiles. Rumble waves and heads out the door. You wait one nanosecond after he’s out of earshot before yelling, “He’s gay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

You collapse backward in your chair like a deflated balloon. “If you’d told me that, none of this would have happened.”

She laughs. “Now do you feel silly for getting jealous?”

“Yes. Very.” You sit up and take both of her hands. “I’m sorry I got jealous and accused you of stuff you didn’t do.”

She smiles and gazes into your eyes. “I’m sorry I kept you in the dark. You’re right that we should be able to talk about this stuff.”

A purple and pink head of hair slowly rises from the edge of the table.

“Now kissssssss!”

You both scream and jump back, and Sweetie Belle grins at you with a trollface.

“Sweetie, I swear to Celestia, I will kick your ass with my good leg!”

Sweetie laughs and runs off, and you both laugh too. You wait until she’s out of sight before kissing. You feel all your tension and anger melt away into Scoot’s mouth, and you don’t care if anyone else is watching.

“Thanks for caring, Lick.”

“Thanks for understanding, Scootie.”

Her eyes flash with madness. “Why you! Don’t think I won’t kick your butt either, just because you’re my boyfriend!”

You laugh and grab your bag and dash off down the hallway, Scootaloo hot on your tail. You make it to class just before the late bell rings.

*****

(A/N: Here is a picture which I seen that inspired this story:

http://moronsonofboron.deviantart.com/art/L-S-R-301939691

When it was drawn, then I knew I had to write this part.

Also here is Lickety: http://moronsonofboron.deviantart.com/art/lickety-split-301568621

Also here is Rumble: http://moronsonofboron.deviantart.com/art/rumble-301574084

Thank you, Moronsonofboron!)