Scootaloo the Swimmer

“Where are you, little bro?” called out Flash Sentry. His parents had gone out for an executive meeting, discussing what to do with a rabid fan base which apparently hated a movie. First Base, ever the prankster, had decided to hide right before dinner, and Flash was looking for him. He was making spaghetti and meatballs, First’s favorite meal. (Could it be helped that it was his, too?) Flash looked in First’s room, under his bed, and in his closet.

Nearby, First Base grinned. ‘Seriously, Flash is on Honor roll? He still hasn’t found me, and he’s supposed to be a National Honor Society member! I should write to the school board!”

Finally having grown bored with hiding, he charged out from the bathroom door down the hall from his room, Nerf gun in hand. Flash was looking under his bed, and with a quick fire, he had pummeled his firm butt with some soft Nerf bullets.

“Hey!” laughed Flash, “No sneak attacks!”

“Well, if I didn’t sneak, you would know I was planning an attack, and you would have gotten a Nerf gun too.” First Base shuddered. Flash could hit the target from a mile away, and he modified his guns to shoot harder and faster.

“Oooohh… someone’s afraid of my legendary renown with a blaster,” smirked Flash, “But I don’t need a Nerf to beat you,” he smiled, then swiftly tore off his T-shirt.

“The only  guns I need are these!” he said with a deep, mocking roar as he flexed his biceps, then picked up his squirming brother and took him downstairs to the kitchen.

Still shirtless, Flash drained the pasta as First made a salad, putting in lettuce, carrots, croutons, and some sliced peppers. Flash grabbed two plates from the cabinet as the pasta cooled, then added cups, napkins, and silverware. First put a liberal amount of tomato sauce from the refrigerator on the cooked noodles, and brought the dishes over. The two brothers worked flawlessly together getting dinner on the table.  Flash brought out the apple juice, and they sat down. After thanking the Lord for their blessings, they spooned heaping portions of spaghetti and meatballs, along with salad. After the first few bites took the edge off their hunger, First asked, “Do you want me to go get a shirt for you?”

Flash smiled his teasing smile, “Intimidated by my… physique?” turning to flex his back muscles.

“No,” replied First defiantly. He took off his red T-shirt, then flexed his muscles right back.

They both burst out laughing.

Sitting back down, Flash asked, “How’s Ms. Cherilee? She treating you alright?”

“Yeah, she’s a really smart lady. Ms. Cherilee’s the best math teacher in town. I can actually understand math now,” bragged First, “but my favorite teacher is Mr. Discord. He is the most… oh, what’s the word?”

“Someone who made a lifelong study of adjectives couldn’t describe him?” offered Flash.

“Pretty much. His classroom is so unorthodox.”

“He still has the optical illusions and weird science posters all over the place, right?”

“Yeah, he sure is a character. The only way he could drink more coffee would be an IV tube,” joked First.

“Good to hear. Freshmen year would be so dull without him drinking a pot every morning,” Flash took another bite of salad.

“Is AP English getting any more bearable?” asked First.

“Nah, Mrs. Zecora is a super nice teacher and all, but her homework is killer,” groaned Flash, “But I got an A- on the last essay, so I’m OK there.

With both brothers finished chatting about school, a short patch of silence ensued. Flash took a swirl of spaghetti, then said, “Are you pumped for the championship cross country meet Sunday?”

“Yeah, I’m super excited. I’m gonna go below twenty minutes this time, for sure!”

“I don’t doubt it, First. What are you going to do when the season ends? I know how you love working out,” asked Flash, kissing his toned biceps, “just like me!”

Both the brothers ran cross country. On the 34 person team, Flash was ranked ninth, and First had been ranked third on the middle school team. but was now just above fifteenth, the cutoff for being ranked.

“Yeah, I’m pretty excited for a rest ‘til baseball.” First sighed contentedly, helping himself to some more salad.

Flash speared a meatball with his fork,” Y’know, it might not be a bad idea to say in shape over winter.”

“I can stay in shape for the winter.” First protested, “We have the weights and the treadmill in the basement. Besides, you’re not the only one with arms,” he rebutted, kissing his own arms, toned, but notably smaller than Flash’s.

“Don’t you want to work out with a team? I know it’s easier for me to stay motivated when I have a team’s comradery.”

“That sounds like a good thesis for your AP English essay.” Teased First.

“There are lots of winter sports at Canterlot High. My friend Thunderlane is Captain of the Basketball team.”

“Lame.”

“Gymnastics?”

“Flipping awful.”

“Swimming?”

“Wet all over.”

“Skiing?”

“Look, why do you want me to play a sport?”

“Well, if I’m not playing a sport, I have trouble managing my stress. I don’t want you to be overwhelmed. I have a lot of fun swimming and diving. Lot of fun people are on the team. Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Scootaloo, Caramel… lots of people, all of them are fun. You could join the team.”

“I don’t know. Wait… Scootaloo? No, never mind,”

“Yep, Scoots is on the team. She’s pretty good. Why don’t you want to join? You already went to most of the meets, and you seemed to have a good time chatting with the team. You’re a good swimmer already. Plus, swimming starts at six. We already get to school at about six fifteen, and that’s at a leisurely pace.”

“I don’t think I’m in shape enough for swimming.”

“Well, little bro, swimming is challenging, but look at you.”

First looked at his wiry arms. He knew he wouldn’t win an arm wrestling contest with Flash anytime soon, but he had sculpted a fair amount of muscle onto his arms. His abs were clearly divided by a line down the middle, showing a lack of belly fat.

“Yeah, but you have to wear-“First whispered the next word, “underwear.”

Flash laughed. “Is that what this is about?”

“Yes,” First responded tersely.

“Sorry, First. It was the way you said it more than anything. But why are you afraid to rock the look?”

“Well, some people in my class call swimmers gay,” First replied.

Flash looked confused, “Why would that be a problem?”

“I guess it’s because the suits leave nothing to the imagination.”

“So? It’s not like other sports are known for modesty. Football is basically huge guys jumping on one another, patting each other’s asses. Besides, wearing trunks would be a really bad idea. If I wore my swim trunks off the diving board, they’d probably fall off. Then it might be gay. But there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

“But…. I’d look ridiculous.”

Flash shook his head. “I’m not going to make you join, but you wouldn’t look ridiculous.”

First ate the last of his spaghetti, took his plate over to the sink, and washed it off. Flash brought his plate over, and put the leftover salad in a Tupperware container. They had eaten all the pasta, so they didn’t need to package it. Flash snuck one last lettuce leaf in his mouth to help the salad fit better, then popped the container in the refrigerator. First tossed his dish into the dishwasher, then washed off Flash’s plate. In the meantime, Flash wiped off the table, gave the dog some food, and vacuumed the floor.  First scrubbed down the huge pot which had held the spaghetti, the pot for spaghetti sauce, and the bowl for salad.

“Want any help with the dishes?” asked Flash, picking up a dish towel and drying the pot.

“Why don’t you try drying the pot?” First replied caustically. He hated when Flash asked if he needed help just as he began to help him.

Flash had the decency to look sheepish, “Sorry. But is it really so bad if I help you?”

“It’s just annoying to ask for something you’re already doing.”

“I guess.”

“OK, while you dry the dishes, I’m going to grab Nine-K for his walk.”

“OK.” Flash said as he open the oak cabinets to put away the dishes.

“Nine-K, come here!”

A golden retriever came running out of the family room. First grabbed the leash and the easy leader. He put the easy leader on Nine-K, then attached the leash. While he put the leash on, some hair came off. Once, Flash had calculated that if the dog‘s fur were made of gold, it would be worth about nine thousand dollars, giving the dog its namesake. First snickered. His brother was such a nerd.  A Dungeons-and-Dragons-playing level nerd. A science-experiment-for-fun nerd. An obsess-with-one-girl nerd.

“Ready to go?” Flash asked, derailing first’s train of thought.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Flash smiled, pointing to First’s chest. First’s face pulled a stoplight. Flash had put back on his clean blue shirt, while First was still bare-chested.

“Can you hold this for me?” First asked, passing him the end of the leash. Flash nodded as First sprinted upstairs to his room and grabbed a shirt from the top of his clean clothes pile, then ran back downstairs.

“Here’s your jacket.” Flash held out his blue windbreaker. First snagged it off Flash’s hand, then put it on as they left through the front door.

The air was crisp and clear, warm for late fall. Flash wore his leather jacket, and First wore his windbreaker, but he took it off when he realized he wouldn’t need it. He tried to hand it to Flash, but Flash just shook his head. First shrugged and tied it around his waist as Nine-K did her business.  They waved to Mr. Cake, who was mowing his lawn with a baby in his backpack, and Cranky, who sat on his porch rocking chair, watching everything. Across the street from the Cakes, a famous house stood. It was ornately painted grey, as though Michelangelo had painted every detail, but been limited to grey, horizontal strokes. The leaves had already been raked up as if by an unseen force. Several big rocks dotted the lawn.

This house was known far and wide as the house of Pinkie Pie.

A pink-haired girl scrambled down from the top of the highest rock, a stone pillar about seven feet tall.  She sprinted across the street, jumped from the street to the sidewalk in one fluid motion, and landed perfectly in front of Flash.

“What’s up, Flash Sentry? And, of course, First Base!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed.

“Hey, Pinkie. We were just taking Nine-k on a walk,” replied Flash, slightly startled as usual from Pinkie’s sudden arrival.

“Chill as absolute zero. Speaking of sports, are you diving again this year?”

“Yeah. Wait, we weren’t speaking of sports-“

“We are now,” Pinkie grinned, “And I’m diving this year, too. Only three sports for me this year, AP Calc is a monster of homework. How can I play a sport, do all my work, make time for my sisters, party with my friends, and have fun?”

“How indeed,” Flash had always wondered how Pinkie did so much with her parties, and she always did more than he had even anticipated in school.

“I’m super excited for it this year. And how about you, First? Are you going to join us swimming?”

“I, uh, don’t really know,” First replied, his voice trailing off as his sentence ended.

“Great! Speaking of swimming, I’m throwing a party, if you want to come. Loads of divers will be there, with heaps of information, eating heaps of cupcakes! It’s tomorrow, at six thirty. I’m making my famous Pinkie Punch, and some healthy sandwiches, too. Nothing like the Noodle incident, I assure you. Some freshmen will be there, so you don’t have to feel lonely, my dear friend First!”

“Really? Who?”

Pinkie looked as though she was concentrating for a moment, going through a vast repetorie of friends she had made, then replied, “First Base, Sweetie Belle, Rumble, Featherweight, and your personal favorite, Scootaloo!”

“Well, nice chatting with you guys. I must go to my secret project of awesomeness!”

Pinkie zoomed away, back on her perch with a math book.

“Are you sure you want to come, First?” Flash asked, “Talking to Pinkie Pie is like opening a barrel of monkeys, you can’t help but get knocked over by the energy,”

“Well, I guess I’ll go to the info session. How bad could it be?”

“Well, Pinkie’s hosting is legendary, but there’s always something unexpected,”

“Yeah, I know. Any idea what her secret project is?”

“If I knew exactly what Pinkie was thinking, I would go crazy,” stated Flash matter-of-factly.

Thinking of the hyperactive girl who was everyone’s friend, “Yep. Do you know how she stores that in her head?”

“No, but she has a photogenic memory and a vibrant imagination. It wouldn’t surprise me if she becomes the next great mind of our time.”

“Except she devotes most of her time to making others happy,”

“True,”

First let the conversation drop, lost in thought. He knew Pinkie was smart, but that didn’t explain how she knew his secret love, the one girl he had never wanted to see him in underwear, the one who now might actually see him if he joined.

Scootaloo.