The grunt and thud of a body being slammed into a locker echoed down the hall. Button Mash gasped for air, the two bigger colts squishing him into hard metal of the locker's door. One of the colts, a pegasus, ripped Button's bag off his shoulder before dumping the contents to the ground and flinging it into the trash.
"Hey Brick Top," the pegasus sneered. "Which of these do you think is more expensive?" The big earth pony just shrugged, still smashing Button into the locker. Gilded Feather glanced at Button before stomping on a few of the electronics dumped from the bag. Plastic cracked and the screens shattered. Hundreds of his own bits down the drain in the span of a few seconds. Button fought the tears, stiffened his lip, and slumped against the locker. He'd have to get another part time.
"What a fucking wuss." The pegasus sneered again as Brick Top let Button slide to the floor. The two walked off, Gilded Feather still laughing. Button dug his bag out of the trash and started to scoop the books, papers, and destroyed handheld and phone back into it. He still had three classes and next was history, one of the few subjects he enjoyed. Button was smart, most ponies knew that, but he was quiet and never really put effort into his school work besides history. It caused his teachers quite a bit of grief; knowing that he could do so much more, but not being able to get him out of his habitual funk.
What most ponies and teachers didn't realize was that Button didn't really want to be quiet or lazy, but that wasn't really up to him. His part time went from five in the afternoon to three or four A.M. usually. His mother worked hard, usually holding two or three jobs. Always enough to scrape by, but never enough to be comfortable. His father wasn't around anymore. He had taken a part time job on his sixteenth birthday, and had been working six days a week since. All ponies could see was a lazy colt slowly deteriorating week by week, year by year. It made him an easy target for ponies like Gilded Feather. He was one of the worst offenders though. His father was a real estate tycoon and was in charge of the complex where Button and his mother were living. Doing anything to him, or getting him in trouble, could cause so many problems for her. So, he was a big colt. He grit his teeth. He dealt with it.
Button stumbled into history class and sat his head on the desk. Keeping an ear perked to follow the class, but resting otherwise. It went quickly. Lunar Rebellion, social and economic collapse following the disbanding of rebel noble houses, centuries of strife. Centuries of ponies gritting their teeth and dealing with it. The final bell rang, announcing the end of classes for the day. Ponies milled about the halls and started the treck, or flight, home.
Jingling the keys out of his pockets, Button unlocked the apartment and stepped inside. Quick Type was asleep at the table, her long sweeping hair covering the typewriter in front of her. He let her rest, knowing she'd just have to wake up later on in the evening to head to her second part-time. He clicked his bedroom door closed. Clothes littered the floor. An old screen stood on a shelf in the corner covered in wires and controllers. It was probably a stereotypical room for a colt his age. He wouldn't have known. He's been working for so long he hadn't been anywhere but school, home, and work in the past two years.
He put his bag down gently in the corner before flopping onto the bed. He had homework. He wasn't going to do it. He had his consoles still. He wasn't going to play them. Button just rested. The hour before he had to head to work dwindled quickly. Throwing on his work polo, Button stepped out of his room. Dropping a blanket on his mom, he grabbed a hoodie from the rack next to the door and stepped outside. He gentle breeze made it just cold enough for him to shiver beneath the jacket as he dipped his chin and snuggled in tighter. The convenience store he spent his afternoons and nights at was a ten minute walk from the apartment. Manechester wasn't the biggest city in Equestria. It didn't have the best industry, it wasn't the fanciest, nor was it the most populated. It was average, it was dull in a metropolitan sense, and it was grey. Especially so in the fall. Ponies walked the roads swaddled in coats, scarves, jackets, only changing their path to avoid the long carriages trotting by carrying ponies with further walks than most. The public transportation in Manechester was a little bit different compared to other cities. Canterlot had carriages, Detrot had trains, Manehattan was tiny in comparison with everything in walking distance. Manechester wasn't big enough to require trains, but still large enough to necessitate some form of vehicular travel for most. Individual carriages were expensive.
Button stepped through the door of the convenience store. The braced mare from behind the counter gave him a wave, clocked her time, and left. Button stepped up behind the register and sighed.
It was a slow night. Most Tuesday's were. When a mare walked into the store, Button had to shake the sleep from his eyes. She walked up to the counter, eyeing the tobacco shelf. Her pink mane had one side shaved off and the rest falling over one of her eyes. She was a big earth pony. Bigger than Brick Top. He shivered a little.
"Pack of Mareboro's and a lighter." Her heavy Manehattan accent was interesting. Most ponies that lived there tended to stay there or move somewhere rural when the city life got to be too much. He gawked for a second while the large mare stared at him expectantly.
"C-can I see your I.D. please?" The mare frowned slightly before handing over a very obvious fake. He read the name off the card. "Babs Seed?" The mare nodded. "It'll be seven bits." Button said, handing back the fake I.D. Babs Seed dropped the coins on the counter, took her cigarettes and stepped outside before lighting one.
Taking a long drag, Babs glanced back at the colt working the counter. She knew that he knew the card was fake. She'd seen the look before. He was probably her age, maybe a year older. She'd have to come back here to get her vices from now on.
"Button Mash." Babs said, remembering the name in the tag and putting the name together with the face. She took another drag, pulled the coat tighter around her and walked off into the dark. Her cigarette tip to light the way, Babs turned down an alley way a few streets down from the convenience store. The houses and apartments got worse as she traveled down the street. Stopping in front of a particularly dingy complex, she took the stairs two at a time, eager to get out of the late night chill. She took one last long drag on the cigarette before smudging it out on the cracked, old concrete landing. Babs slipped into the eastern apartment; being sure to bolt and chain the door. The apartment reeked of must and sweat. A simple living room and kitchen with a hallway and two bedrooms. One bedroom was empty save for a punching bag hanging from the ceiling, a few weights, and a jump rope. She moved past the room, stepping into her bedroom. Babs stripped, taking off her chilled jacket, shirt, and pants. Between her, the other tenets, and the mice, the apartments were always warm. She shivered despite the warmth, reaching for the handwrap on her nightstand. The hand paused, before moving next to it, making sure the alarm was set, and turning out the light. The futon was bigger than a twin, but she could have done with a bigger bed. She settled in, pulled the single sheet up, and closed her eyes.
She jumped at the alarm, not quite ready to get out of bed, but not quite willing to stay under the too warm blanket any longer. Breakfast, a shower, and she was on her way. The early sun peaked timidly over the horizon as the overnight frost turned to dew. Birds chirped from the sparse trees lining the road. She lit a cigarette and took a puff. Babs hadn't been to school in little under a year. Her record was a laundry list of D's, fights, and calm indifference of the norm her previous school tried so hard to impress on her. It had been one of the best schools in Manehattan supposedly. Her rather well off family had spent most of her young life distancing themselves from the whirlwind of a filly. Her parents had told her there were members of the Apple family just about everywhere in Equestria before pushing her out the door to her first boarding school at the ripe young age of seven. She hadn't seen either of them for more than four hours since that day.
Babs bumped into the pony in front of her. She'd been following them for a block now. The patch on the pegasus' letter jacket matching the logo of her new school. It was a hoofball patch, she noted, as the decently large pegasus turned, locked eyes with the much larger Babs seed, and continued to turn, walking a little bit faster than he had previously. She took another drag on the cigarette, laughing quietly to herself. The school loomed into view. Babs, adjusting the strap on her pack, cut through the small crowd forming and headed for what looked to be the main office. She smothered the cigarette in the water fountain outside the office door before stepping inside.
A middle aged unicorn sat behind the desk looking both bored and disgusted at the same time. With a sniff, he huffed to himself. "The school's a no smoking facility." He said with whatever authority he could muster.
"Can I just get my schedule?"
"Name?"
"Babs Seed, tenth grade."
"Aren't you a little big to be in tenth grade?" Babs bit back the retort. Threatening a secretary with a few missing teeth would not go over well. "Here," he said, shoving a paper at Babs with his magic. "Class schedule, locker location and combination."
Snagging the paper, she stepped out of the unpleasant office. Skipping the locker, Babs walked to her first class and sat down towards the back. Ponies filed in shortly followed by a portly earth pony. The teacher, she assumed, called roll, stumbled over the new name on the paper, and started the lesson. Three minutes later, Babs head hit the desk. The audible thump drawing attention from most of the class. Babs glared at the first pony she laid eyes on. That shut the snickers up quickly. She put her head back down, blew her mane out of her eyes, and waited for the bell. All the while, the instructor hadn't stopped blabbing. Babs started to snore.
A veritable flood of ponies filled the halls following the final bell of the day. Colts sat around laughing and the mares gossiped by the lockers. Schools don't change all that much from one side of the country to another. Babs walked in a bubble. Not an actual one, unicorn she wasn't, but she walked around in a bubble all the same. A colt had shoved her to get out the door faster. She'd hit in the chest and he'd dropped to the floor wheezing. Babs smirked in her bubble.
You see, children are born built in social order. It's a survival mechanism from the days of old. In school, during the first few days and weeks, they form groups and cliques to protect themselves. Now, naturally this applies to older people as well, but it's much less noticible in the work place. Smaller sample size. The groups themselves could be based on the smallest hobby or the most obvious physical trait. Athletes and jocks, preppy girls and nerds, delinquents and morons.
And here he is, stuck in the middle. It's a hard knock life so they say. Not strong enough to stand up to bullies. Not smart enough to fit in with the diligent and hard working kiss asses. Not attractive enough to just coast through life. The everypony's problem. Mediocrity runs rampant through the utter stagnation that is his high school career. He wakes up. He goes to school. He goes to work. He plays video games. He sleeps. Such is the tale of one Button Mash.
Where might he be now, you ask yourself? Face first on the ground eating dirt behind the school. Brick Top had his backpack and was casually emptying it into the puddle of mud that never seemed to dry up in the drizzly city. Gilded Feather stepped harder onto Button's back.
"You know Button, if you weren't such a candy ass this would be happening to you." Gilded put a little more weight on Button.
"Nothin' in here but books, Gilded." Brick Top mumbled to the pegasus.
"Not even a fucking cent to your name, huh? Really goes to show just how different ponies can be. In the end, all that matters is who you know and who you're related to. And all you've got is that tired old woman right? Dad couldn't even stand you so he left?"
Button just gritted his teeth.
"Like I said, this is your fault. You caused this. All you had to do was get that new chick to come here. How's that so fucking difficult, huh?"
Button hadn't even bothered looking for the transfer student. Large as she was, she lived in an enclosed space. No one spoke to her, no one came near her. It must be paradise, Button thought to himself. All three colts flinched at the sound of a rough snort and turned.
"Well, I'm here now. Who the fuck are you?" Babs asked, stepping out of the school door. This really was standard fare, she thought. Wimpy kid on the ground, arrogant asshole above, and the muscle watch over if the peasants got restless. Same shit, different century.
"Well, look who it is. Do you remember me?" Gilded sneered, desperate to take back control of the situation.
"Nope."
"You shoved me in the hall yesterday, you fucking retard."
"Then maybe don't get in the way when someone's walking. Retard." Babs said casual, picking at her nails.
Gilded ruffled a bit, obviously not used to someone talking down to him. He pointed at Babs Seed.
"Brick Top will you hit this bitch already?"
Brick Top swung his head from Gilded to Babs, somewhat nervous. The new girl was at least as big as he was, if not bigger. And, she didn't even look scared, Brick Top thought. She's just standing there.
"Dunno Gilded. Never hit a girl befo-"
Babs hit him square in the jaw. Brick Top decided he needed to sit down for a minute or two. Babs pointed at Gilded, who was slowing backing up. Button just sat. Watching.
"You ever fuckin' talk to me again, I'll make you eat your teeth. You get me, featherbrain?" Gilded bobbed his head. "You," Babs pointed at Button. "C'mere."
"You're the clerk I bought cigarettes from last night, yeah? Button Mash?"
The two of them sat inside a carriage headed to the stop near Button's house. Babs had paid and Button hadn't felt like stopping her. Not that he could. Button nodded even though it wasn't really a question. The mare in front of him was big. A full six inches taller and at least 50 pounds heavier. Button figured she had a lot of muscle under the jacket from how quickly she laid out Brick Top.
"Why are they fucking with you?"
Button just shook his head. How are you supposed to answer that? Admit that you can't fight back? That you're just a scrawny wimp that wants to be left alone? Fat chance.
"Fine, I didn't care anyways," Babs snorts and shakes her head. Her knuckles are still bruised from where she hit Brick Top. She blew her mane out of her eyes, and pulled her jacket tighter. Button sunk deeper into his hoodie. The carriage slowed to a stop as people piled on and off. It was raining again, cold drizzle that never really stopped in Manechester. Babs snorted again and looked Button directly in the eye.
"You 'nd me are gonna cut a deal. You bring me a pack of cigs in the morning before school. I'll make sure that asswipe never says another word to you, you understand?"
"Why?" Button didn't realize he'd asked until Babs nearly pushed him out of his seat.
"Because my fake I.D. got taken last night, you dweeb. You gonna do it or not?"
A godsend. A miracle. Button still had a stupid look on his face when his shift ended and he went home. Not a single person came into the shop. Tedious. Boring. Button hadn't even noticed. Half of his worldly problems, ended in the span of an hour and thirty minutes. Is this what it's like, Button wondered. Is this how easy life is for people with good fortune? The dark streets didn't feel so threatening, the the Manechester air so cold. Babs Seed was an unknown, but even an unknown was better than being stuck with Gilded Feather for the next two and a half years. Button turned the corner, stepping into his apartment building and out of the foggy night. Panel lights flickered, floor boards creaked, the elevator rumbled slowly. Home. The smell of old wood filled the aging building. Six floors up, four doors down. Split trim, peeling paint, plain carpeted floor.
Button stepped into the dark apartment. His mom was draped over the couch; back already from her second job. She hadn't even changed out of her work clothes. Button tossed his bag onto his bed and flicked on the bedroom light. Stepping back out into the living room, he picked the dishes up off the coffee table and put them in the sink. Walking back around, Button picked his mother up and carried her to her room.
"You know I'm trying, don't you Steel Shaper?" Quick Type mumbled in her sleep.
Button set her gently on the bed and pulled the sheets up.
"Things are going to get better soon." Button turned the light off and closed the door.
