Every Ship Needs an Anchor
Every Ship Needs an Anchor
“Hey, Shrimp!” Two mint-green ears twitched back, and then promptly flattened against a mess of short blue and gray hair. The scrawny, pint-sized, blank flanked colt hesitated at his locker for a moment, wondering if he could get away with ignoring the source of the voice. “Shrimp! I’m talkin’ to you!” He wished he could say that Rancid was name-calling, but unfortunately, Saltwater Shrimp’s legal name was an insult in itself. As if the school bully needed more material to taunt him with.
Salt didn’t even bother to remove the papers he needed for his next class, knowing full well that Rancid would scatter them up and down the halls if he did. Rather, he swiftly returned all of his books to his locker and miserably slammed the door. Still not turning around, he called, “What do you want, Rancid?”
“How ‘bout your lunch money?” The hulking, slightly pudgy form of Rancid marched up, sneering as his dark eyes flashed with malice. Saltwater finally turned to greet the sound of heavy hoofsteps, chest tightening with fear. Rancid’s slightly muted red coat filled Saltwater’s vision, the bright yellow and violet striped, unkempt mohawk bouncing on top. Lastly, Rancid’s wide, feathery wings flared out, making him seem larger than life. They also blocked Salt’s view of the bully’s rather embarrassing cutie mark, which depicted a filthy, overflowing trash can.
“I didn’t bring any today,” Salt lied, backing up into the line of lockers. Rancid’s hot, putrid breath seeped into Saltwater’s coat, leaving a damp, filthy feeling on his fur.
“I don’t believe you,” Rancid growled, hungrily eyeing Saltwater’s saddlebags which he had inconveniently forgotten to stick in his locker.
“You take it from me every day, so why bother bringing it anymore?” the smaller colt desperately tried to worm away from the beast.
“Gimme!”
“Hey!” Rancid lunged for Saltwater’s saddlebags while the pony they were attached to writhed in wriggled in a futile attempt to escape. “Let go!”
“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” From between Rancid’s giant legs which were currently crushing/pinning him down, Salt noticed that a collection of onlookers had gathered in a ring around them. The green colt sighed. Was this really the only way for him to be at the center of attention? Because if so, he’d rather stick to being a wallflower.
“Jackpot!” Rancid finally extracted his hoof from the gray canvas bag with a hoof full of bits. He chuckled rather proudly to himself before jangling his prize one last time and tossing it into his own pouch.
“Mmph,” Saltwater groaned, struggling for air under the crushing weight of his adversary. Suddenly reminded of the pest beneath him, Rancid snickered and stood up, careful to keep one hoof firmly planted in the center of Shrimp’s back. The earth pony wheezed and panted for breath. Rancid allowed him the courtesy of catching his breath while he soaked in the beautiful chants of their audience. Only after Shrimp’s heaving had lessened did Rancid bend over to hiss in his ear.
“Hear that, Shrimp? The folks want a show,” he snickered. “And I’m not one to disappoint.”
To spare you readers the gory details, let us simply say that Saltwater Shrimp received a beating. A brutal beating. He was bloody, bruised, and had been slammed into more lockers than he cared to count by the time a teacher showed up and stopped the fight. This was far from the first time Saltwater had been the victim of Rancid’s attacks, and so he was fully prepared to fall into the usual routine: visit the nurse, grab an excuse note from the office, revisit his locker and return to class. Only this time, the nurse took pity on poor little Shrimp, and decided to send him home rather than the office. Confused but content, Saltwater didn’t argue, and rather collected his things and waited for his mother to pick him up.
The colt’s legs dangled over the edge of his seat in the office. The principal had contacted his mother who would be picking him up shortly, so Salt had nothing much to do but wait. He could start on his homework, but then again... no. Even as bruised and beaten up as he was, he was going to enjoy this exclusive early-out. What could he do with all the extra time? Frankly, he’d really like to get out to the park and see if his latest model boat would sail on the lake. Though knowing his mother, she would probably have him cooped up in bed under a mountain of blankets and drinking plenty of fluids, medicine, and whatever else she could baby him with. Well... maybe he could read that marine life book his father had-
“Saltwater? Your mother is here,” the principal announced, holding the door open for a very familiar (and distressed) mare to shoot through.
“Oh, Salt! What happened to you? Are you alright? Where does it hurt?” The cyan-coated and white-maned mare Sea Foam zipped inside and instantly began poking and prodding her son.
“M-Mom! I’m fine!” Saltwater insisted, squirming uncomfortably as she only aggravated the sore spots.
“My baby boy,” she conceded her examination but clutched him close to her chest, knocking the breath out of him yet again.
“Mrs. Foam? I’m sure you’ll be wanting to get your son home, now,” the principal coughed, coming to Salt’s rescue.
“Yes! To bed with you!” She hastily slung his saddlebags over her back, and practically drug Saltwater out behind her.
“See you tomorrow, Mr. Horsewell!” Saltwater awkwardly waved back. The principal just ducked back inside the building with a slight shake of his head.
“What happened?” Wonders of the Ocean, Saltwater’s marine life book jumped from his hooves, and the colt fought to regain his grip on the tome. The slam of his bedroom door had announced his father’s entrance, but it had also scared the poor boy out of his wits.
“P-pardon?” Saltwater gulped, having finally caught up with the slippery book and clutching it to his chest.
“What happened today? Your mother tells me you got sent home.” Skipper was not a disagreeable pony. He had a rather rugged appearance with a dark blue coat, tired eyes and some gray facial stubble, but he didn’t even look threatening. Most of the time. This was not one of those times.
“Y-y-yes, sir,” he stuttered in response, ears flat and guilt clawing at his insides.
“Well? Spit it out,” the stallion demanded, glaring daggers at the cowering colt.
“I... got into a fight,” Salt confessed, eyes drifting to examine the quilt pattern, the floorboards... anything but his father’s disappointed face.
“Your black eye told me that,” Skipper growled. “I mean, what happened?” Saltwater glanced up again, though he didn’t need to read his father’s firm expression to know that there would be no getting out of this. He took a deep breath, and slid farther beneath the covers.
“Rancid tried to steal my lunch money again.”
“The school bully?” Saltwater solemnly nodded. Skipper released a heavy sigh that almost sounded like a groan, and the bed springs creaked in protest as he eased himself onto the mattress with his son.
“Salt, we talked about this,” Skipper more gently reminded, lifting the colt’s chin to meet his gaze. “You aren’t a doormat. You can’t let ponies treat you like that.”
“Have you seen Rancid? He’s three times my size! I can’t fight back!” Saltwater shrieked, wildly flailing his hooves about in a series of gestures.
“You don’t have to fight with your hooves, remember?”
“I’ve tried talking to him, Dad. It only gets me beaten up.”
“Doing nothing gets you beaten up, too!” his father exasperatedly huffed. Saltwater winced, and Skipper took a slow, steadying breath. “If you want this to stop, you’re going to have to rise above this. Be more tactful, just forceful enough to let Rancid know you mean business. Threaten to bring in a teacher, if you have to.”
“Dad, the tattle-tale tactic never works,” Saltwater pointed out.
“I said if you have to,” Skipper repeated. “Look, son, I’m just worried about you. I won’t tolerate you being treated this way. So when you go back to school, I want you to march up to Rancid and tell him what for.”
“I won’t see him tomorrow. Principal Horsewell suspended him for the rest of the week,” Salt informed.
“Whenever he gets back, then. Am I understood?”
“Yeah,” Salt quietly mumbled.
“I SAID, am I understood?” his father thundered far more loudly.
“Yes, sir!” Saltwater’s throat felt scratchy when he tried to match the older stallion’s volume.
“Good lad,” Skipper nodded approval, sliding out of the bed and exiting the room. He hesitated in the doorway a moment. “I’m going to hold you to it.” The door creaked shut, far more gently this time. The colt just groaned and sunk back into the sheets.
***
“Students, this is just a reminder that we will be having an assembly before classes start today. Please report to the gym when the bell rings,” the intercom crackled with Mr. Horsewell’s voice. Saltwater groaned, looking over the school from the stairs. It was Monday, which was bad enough, but this particular Monday would also bring Rancid back to school which in turn meant that he had to make good on the promise to his father. Saltwater lingered outside the school a moment longer, half tempted to turn around and play hooky. Then again, he’d surely be grounded if his father found out. And he’d have to go back to school sometime... best to get it over with now, he supposed.
Saltwater skulked into the school, keeping his head low and shuffling through the crowd to better blend in. He almost expected Rancid to be waiting for him at his locker, but the bully had evidently found another victim to entertain him. Breathing a sigh of relief, Salt sifted through the books and papers he’d need for the day.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Now that was a familiar chant. Saltwater whipped around, heart pounding, fully expecting to find himself facing off with Rancid in a ring of onlookers. However, the only ponies he saw were a few stray students bolting for the source of the ruckus, a fight ring down at the other end of the hall. Rancid must’ve found another victim after all.
It felt strange to be on this side of the ring. It was exhilarating, almost. The tension hung so thick in the air Salt thought he might choke on it. Guilt gnawed his insides just for joining the ring. He should have run the other way and hid, or better yet found a teacher, but curiosity had gotten the best of him. Now he found himself in the middle of the crowd, straining to see over the other students. Unfortunately, being one of the smallest colts in school had its fair share of disadvantages.
“What’s going on?” he finally asked the student beside him.
“Rancid’s taking on the new transfer student,” the filly excitedly reported, standing on her hind legs as she too struggled to see.
“Transfer student?” Salt echoed. He hadn’t heard anything about a new transfer student, nor had he noticed any new faces roaming the halls. Then again, he was rather oblivious and was always the last to know anything and everything that happened around here.
“Yeah! They say she’s super smart, and skipped like three grades!” the filly enthusiastically informed, still straining to see. Salt decided to mimic her and stand on his hind legs as well, but when a disturbance caused those around him to trip, Salt too lost his balance and toppled through the masses. Well... on the bright side, the ponies had cleared a path when he fell. Now he had a clear view of what was going on inside the ring.
Rancid’s huge, red body was prevalent, wings flared and hooves dancing dangerously close to his victim. He was shouting and screaming at... whoever it was, mercilessly hollering insults and obscenities. Saltwater was surprised that his hollering alone hadn’t attracted administration yet. He had seen enough. Salt was about to turn around and do the right thing by finding a teacher when Rancid finally moved, unmasking the victim.
He still didn’t recognize her, being the new transfer student, but Salt didn’t need her name to know that she was beautiful. She had a pale, amethyst purple coat, emerald green hair and eyes to match. Her mane was done up in a delicate pixie cut that parted for her horn, and her tail was likewise short. Petite glasses almost obscured a stripe of freckles over her muzzle, and Saltwater noticed that she already had her cutie mark- a half-slice of a green-purple geode. He could believe that she had skipped several grades, however- even for a first year student, she looked very young.
“You wimpy, pathetic loser! No one wants you here! Why don’t you go back to wherever it was you came from? Huh?” Salt could see spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed at the filly, his mouth just inches from her face. She turned slightly, wincing as the drops soaked her coat. “You look at me when I’m talking to you!” Salt’s breath caught in his throat as Rancid lashed out at her. From this angle, it looked like she had been back-hoofed square in the face. In reality, her face was left intact, but her glasses did not fare as well. They skittered across the floor and were promptly crushed by the anxiously shuffling hooves of the ring.
“Oh, wait! You can’t! Ha!” Rancid snorted, sent into a fit of laughter by his own cruel joke.
“My glasses!” the filly cried, flailing about on the floor with tear-stained cheeks in search of them.
The scene made Salt’s blood boil. Was this what it looked like when Rancid picked on him? This hurt? This weak? This... helpless? In all the times Rancid had beaten him up, nopony had had the mercy to stick up for him? To even fetch a teacher to break up the fight? Here these students were, gathered ‘round and cutting off any and all escape routes the filly could take for their own sick amusement. Salt wasn’t sure what he wanted to do more: vomit or strangle everyone in this school. Both would have to wait. There were more pressing matters at hoof.
“Honey Glen!” Saltwater had noticed one of his fellow wallflowers, Honey Glen, a quiet goody-four-shoes type frozen at the back as she watched in horror. Her eyes snapped onto Salt upon hearing her name, probably grateful for something to take her mind off the sickening scene ahead. “Go get a teacher,” he ordered her.
“O-okay,” she agreed, hooves skittering on the tile as she took off. Honey Glen wasn’t the kind that approved this behavior, but rather completely shut down when confronted with danger. At Saltwater’s prompt, however, he trusted her to follow through with her assignment. Now it was time for his part.
“Rancid!” he cried, voice cracking slightly as he called out above the obnoxious clamor. The hallway instantly hushed, ponies clearing a path for him as they now turned their attention to the colt that dared oppose the school bully.
Rancid, pulled out of his laughing/coughing fit, glanced over the crowd for the source of the voice. His eyes finally settled on the defiant yet ridiculously tiny form of Saltwater Shrimp. “Shrimp?!” he exclaimed in a baffled yet almost welcoming tone. What’s this? Did you decide to surrender your lunch money early this morning?”
“Leave her alone, Rancid. She didn’t do anything to you,” Salt coolly ordered, gaze steady and head held high. He was trembling on the inside, but whether that was caused by fear or anger was anyone’s guess.
“Wrong!” Rancid spat. “Gemstone here thinks she’s so much better than anypony else... always studying, head stuck in a book, makes straight A’s... she’s tryin’ to make the rest of us feel dumb, and somepony’s gotta teach her a lesson!”
“Rancid, you don’t need any help to feel dumb,” Saltwater shot back.
“Oooooh!” the rest of the school gasped, taking a few steps back.
“What did you just say to me, Shrimp?!” Rancid had locked onto a new target. He plowed forth, steam practically pouring from his nose and ears. Yet, Saltwater still didn’t flinch.
“Only an idiot or a coward would bully other ponies to make themselves feel good. Which are you?” Saltwater felt no fear, his cold, piercing eyes counteracting Rancid’s hot rage.
“You’re all bark and no bite,” the pegasus seethed. “Why don’t you fight me and prove it?”
“Prove what? I’ve got nothing to prove. Yeah, I may be a shrimp, but you’ve already shown the whole school what an idiotic coward you are, so why should I waste any more of my time on you?” Saltwater tore his gaze from the furious yet stunned pegasus, and started marching around him.
“Why, you... YOU!” Rancid lunged, but Salt sidestepped at just the right moment. For fear of being crushed or worse, suffering Rancid’s wrath, the crowd parted as well... opening up a clear path for Rancid to crash right into principal Horsewell’s hooves.
“Well, well, well,” he raised an eyebrow, every bit of his disposition implying that he was fed up with Rancid’s antics.
“P-Principal Horsewell?” Rancid gulped, leaping to his hooves. “I-I can explain!”
“Explain in the office,” the unicorn grunted, igniting his horn.
“Wait!” But the principal wasn’t listening. He turned around and dragged Rancid along behind him.
The school erupted into cheers for the tiny colt with the guts to stand up to Rancid. But Saltwater Shrimp ignored them. He was still ticked that no one had even attempted to stop the bully sooner. Well... one had.
“Thanks, Honey Glen,” he nodded to the filly as he passed her. She blushed and nodded acknowledgement before melting back into the crowd. Salt kept pushing forward, even when the other students tried to swarm and congratulate him. Their roar gradually faded to a hum, if just from confusion as to why he wasn’t celebrating with them. The answer became clear soon enough: there was still one loose end needing to be tied up.
The purple unicorn filly Rancid had initially been picking on- Gemstone, wasn’t it?- was still groping along the floor in a desperate hunt for her glasses. She had been all but forgotten by everypony else, so when their classmates started dancing around her, this job had become ten times more dangerous. She was still sobbing and shaking with fear, perhaps traumatized by her run-in with Rancid or terrified of being trampled, or both.
“Hey.” Gemstone paused, wiped her damp eyes, and squinted in an attempt to make out the speaker. All she saw was a blurry green haze. She managed to gather from the sound of the voice that this was a colt addressing her, perhaps even the one that had just faced down Rancid? She hadn’t really gotten a good look after the bully had taken her glasses.
“Hey,” she sniffled, wiping her eyes again. She blushed a deep red and shuffled uncomfortably, incredibly embarrassed that anyone had to see her in this state.
“I... uh... I found your glasses,” Salt coughed, offering all that was left of the warped wire frames. “Sorry... they were kinda crushed in all the excitement.” His heart lurched with guilt when he saw her sag just ever so slightly.
“That’s okay,” she unconvincingly nodded. “I have an extra pair in my locker.”
“Oh, good!” he perked up a bit.
“...If I can find it. I can’t see anything without my glasses,” she wilted.
“What’s your locker number? I’ll walk you,” he quickly put in, .
“Really? It’s number 35,” she hastily added the last bit before he could back out on his offer.
“That’s just across from mine! Come on, it’s this way.” Salt stood, and grabbed her bags in addition to his own. By this time, the crowd has dispersed, so he had no trouble navigating the halls with the filly in tow.
“Thank you, um... what did you say your name was?”
“Saltwater. Saltwater Shrimp,” he introduced.
“Oh! You mean that really is your name? Sorry, I thought Rancid was just-”
“It’s okay,” Salt laughed. “I’m used to it. Here we are. What’s your combination... if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Sixty five, thirty, twenty six,” she recited, not hesitant to release the information in the least.
“Thirty, twenty...six! There you go,” he jerked the squeaky door open for her.
“Thanks,” she said again, feeling around the bottom of the compartment for her spares. The locker was very neatly organized, and she quickly located the case beside a biology book. She slid them over her nose, blinked a few times, and finally got a good look at her rescuer. He was a sea green earth pony and was almost as small and scrawny as she, despite being a few years older. He had bright, deep blue eyes with messy hair to match, though his mane was flecked with the occasional gray stripe. His tail was hock length, and his flank...
“What does your cutie mark mean?” she inquired, examining the symbol.
“I don’t have a-” His eyes bulged when he turned to see where she was looking and noticed a cutie mark staining his no-longer-blank flank. “A cutie mark! When did that get there?!” he spun in a few tight circles as he tried to get a closer look, evoking laughter from his companion. When he finally sat still long enough to look it over, he noticed it depicted a ship anchor. “I know it wasn’t there this morning!”
“Congratulations,” Gemstone giggled.
“What does it mean? When did I get it?” he whined in a slightly girly, irritating voice. Gemstone gasped, accidentally sparking her horn with excitement. The magic didn’t do anything except give the impression of a light bulb literally going off over her head.
“It must’ve been when you stood up to Rancid!” she guessed.
“But what does that have to do with an anchor?” he frowned, squinting in hopes that some sort of hidden meaning might reveal itself.
“You held firm,” she smiled. “You didn’t let Rancid sway you from what you knew was right.”
“You really think that’s it?” Salt smiled back, eyes bright with glee.
“I do,” she nodded somewhat bashfully. “I, um, didn’t actually get to thank you for what you did back there. So... thanks.”
“You’re wel-” Saltwater halted mid-sentence when Gemstone leaned over and planted a light peck on his cheek. When she pulled back, he was still frozen.
“Well, I better get to class, so... see ya!” She then darted off, bags in tow. Salt looked after her until she disappeared from view, and then continued to sit dumbly in front of her locker. It was the tardy bell that eventually brought him out of his thoughts. He finally stood, grinning like a fool. It turned out that Mondays weren’t so bad after all.
