Coming home early was something Raindust both dreaded and loved. On one hoof, she got to spend more time with Blazin, got to watch over him, and got to make sure that he was safe.
But on the other hoof, that meant having to be around the beast that slept on her couch even more. Raindust hated her step-husband with a burning passion. She hated his smell, she hated his fat, sweaty body, she hated how he kept dipping into her paychecks to pay for his gambling habits, and she especially hated how he treated Blazin'. She didn't even think that step-husband knew her son's actual name, because she didn't remember him ever calling Blazin' anything but 'punk.'
But seeing Blazin's smile when she came home while he was still doing homework, or seeing the way his face lit up when she told him she was going to have an early day made it all worth it. He was a momma's boy—there was no doubt about it. It made sense, since she was all Blazin really had, and the fact that she'd kept him fairly close to her out of habit. So when she was home, he was all over her like gum stuck to the bottom of a table.
And that was one of the many reasons that Raindust began to panic when he didn't come home from school on time one of those early days.
She'd waited an extra half-hour, pacing the hallway and keeping an eye on the door, waiting for it to crack open and expose her son. But it didn't happen. Where was he? Had something happened to him? Sally started chewing her nails, wondering if he'd been attacked. How would she explain it to him if he got hurt and ended up in a ditch with no one to help him? What if he didn't survive? What if her little boy was out there being mauled to death by some hellish creature from the middle of a storybook?
Fearing for her son's life, Raindust grabbed a scarf and slipped out of the apartment door quietly, trying not to disturb her step-husband—who was completely engrossed in his football game. She practically flew down the steps to the lobby of their small apartment complex, looking for any signs of her eight year-old son. He couldn't have just disappeared off the face of the Equestria! The carriage drops him off right outside the complex...
When she stepped outside of the building and onto the small stone porch outside, Raindust almost cried out with relief. There he was, sitting on the bottom step, shivering in the cold, little snowflakes collecting in his ink-black/orange mane. He was also clutching a piece of paper, looking downcast and nervous. Why was he sitting out here? It was freezing!
Raindust rushed down the steps, nearly tripping over herself in her effort to get to her son. "Blazin!" she cried. "What are you doing out here?"
He jumped, almost falling off the step, and Raindust caught a glimpse of his face. She hadn't failed to see the purple tinge around his right eye, or the little bruise on his left cheek, or the flecks of blood on his muzzle that was turning red from the cold...
She dropped down next to him, cupping his chin in her hoofs and pulling his face towards her. Unfortunately, she hadn't been imagining the injuries. He had a decent black eye, a couple bruises, a busted lip, and a bloody nose. There were little red droplets on the front of his shirt that Raindust figured most definitely weren't ketchup.
"Dear Celestia," she breathed. "What happened to you, baby?"
A couple of tears pooled in the corners of his eyes as he held out the piece of paper to her. She draped her scarf over him and took the piece of paper from his hand, sat next to him on the step, and began to read.
Dear Parent/Guardian of BLAZIN' TRAIL.
We regret to inform you that your child,BLAZIN' TRAIL , will no longer be invited back to Brightflower Charter School for the following school year. Your child will be allowed to finish out the school year and pass his/her classes, but will not be put on the student register for the next grade. Arrangements will have to be made accordingly. We regret to resort to these kinds of measures, but our rules are not to be taken lightly. Thank you for your understanding. If you have any questions, feel free to contact the school at 555-6784 to schedule an appointment with the principle.
– Prancing Steps, Principle
Below, a signature was scrawled along with a hand-written note.
Fighting is a serious issue. Our school has a no-tolerance approach to hoof-fights, and unfortunately the situation and severity of the incident warranted immediate expulsion. This punishment is non-negotiable. It saddens me to send Blazin' away, but we can't have this type of behavior in our school. As said above, if you would like to discuss what this means for your child, feel free to contact the school and set up a meeting.
Raindust turned and looked at Blazin, lowering the paper from her face. He was still shaking, and refused to look in her direction, clearly ashamed. This was the first time he'd been expelled from school. She figured that's why he'd been sitting outside, he was too ashamed and scared to show her the letter.
She reached over and gave him a hug, being careful to mind his bruises so she wouldn't hurt him. He seemed surprised, as if he had expected her to yell and scream at him rather than just give him a hug. But Raindust could see that he'd tortured himself enough already that day—he'd sat alone outside in the snow, for Celestia sakes.
She helped him to his feet, and together they trudged back up the stairs and into the apartment, walking lightly past my step-husband who had passed out with the TV still on. She still didn't say anything as she led him into his room and sat him down on the bed, retrieving the first-aid kit and beginning to clean up his wounds some. He continued to look at her warily, as if he was waiting for her to burst out screaming and yelling, waiting for her to ground him, to tell him how terrible he was for being expelled. He looked scared of her, and still ashamed, probably figuring he'd let her down.
As Raindust went to return the first-aid kit to its resting spot under the sink, Blazin' asked timidly, "A-aren't you going to punish me?"
She walked back over to his bed and sat next to him, pulling him onto her shoulder and running her fingers through his hair. "No, honey."
"B-but aren't you mad?" he stammered. "I-I..."
"You've been punished enough, Blazin'," she assured him. "The school punished you, you're bruised and battered all over, and you punished yourself by sitting out in the snow scared of what I would think." His ears turned pink. "So no, I don't think I need to do anything to you. And I'm not mad either, just a little disappointed you couldn't take your anger out some other way. It happens, baby. We do things we regret. There's no use in me dwelling on it or making you feel worse."
"Okay..." he said softly, pressing his face into her shoulder. "I just thought... I thought that you'd be mad because I'm supposed to be nice to the other foals, but how am I supposed to be nice when they all hate me? They all say I'm a moron."
"A... moron?" Raindust asked. He nodded into her shoulder. "Is that why you punched a kid? Because he called you a moron?"
"And he stole my lunch money," he mumbled. "It was stupid. Which makes sense since I'm stupid."
Raindust felt a cold hoof close around her heart. These foals were bullying him, putting him down, telling him he was dumb and he was the one who got expelled for fighting back? She squeezed his shoulder. "You're not stupid, Blazin'."
"Yes I am," he said. "I can't get anything higher than an F. I can't do simple math, I can't read, I don't understand magic, I—"
"Stop that," she said firmly. "You're not stupid. I don't care what grades say, or what the other foals say, you're not stupid, Blazin'. Stupidity isn't grades. You're so much smarter than those other foals in ways they'll never understand."
He looked up from her shoulder. "I... I am?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "The other foals don't know what they're talking about. You don't have to be the best at math to be smart. There are a variety of other things ponies can be good at other than school smarts."
"What am I good at?" he asked.
"You're good at noticing things, Blazin'," she said. "You always know when something's wrong or when something's out of place." He grinned up at her, and Sally decided that he still looked adorable even with his busted lip and black eye. She returned the grin.
"Come on, now. Go change your clothes. I don't think blood makes a very good fashion statement."