I shook my head at the Alibi antics.

Where is he getting volunteers to be his fake marefriend, anyway? I sighed. Zap, I thought you had higher standards than that.

She seemed to wilt under the attention, and then I realized I had been unintentionally glaring at her, so I broke eye contact.

Instead, I considered that with the benefit of my first childhood on Rhod, I should know how to deal with characters like him. Unfortunately, I had never encountered anyone so eager to annoy me personally. I don’t know if it was strict military discipline stifling such nonsense, or if I just didn’t stick out back then.

Fortunately, these thoughts helped me be temporarily oblivious to the curious onlookers scrutinizing me.

So if I ignore him, he continues trying to make me jealous with fake marefriends until it works, and if I get baited by it… he’ll probably still be encouraged.

I made the mistake of meeting his gaze. He waved a single time trying to look cool, but it turned out goofy.

Why me?

I was so desperate to shake off my internally festering annoyance that I tried to remember what Rainbow had just lectured about. Unfortunately, I struggled to remember anything, save for my earlier amazement at how boring magically-controlled weather could be.

I’ll get you back… somehow. Maybe. I don’t know. When am I ever going to have time?

Rainbow clapped to get our attention. As the crowd turned, many of us became curious about the smaller cloud hanging eight feet above the one we currently occupied.

“Okay, young speedsters let’s get started! I say that, but stunt flying is more than speed; you’ve gotta have fundamentals. Even if you’re a natural like me you still have to master the fundamentals or you’ll get stuck.”

She paced in front of the line of us.

“Last time was just to assess what you’ve got. This time, I’ll actually give some pointers and start instructing.”

Sounds like an improvement over flinging me off a cloud…

“But to start, let me give you all a demonstration.”

After verifying that everypony was watching, she backpedaled and then gathered speed into a slight gallop. Instinctively, I steeled myself for the storm-quality winds that would be whipped up by her launching into flight. Instead, just a few paces before reaching the end of the runway, Rainbow jumped, flaring her wings just slightly. Like magic, some subtlety with her wings allowed for almost all of her momentum to be redirected vertically. The result was an elegant backflip that launched her ten feet in the air onto the higher cloud she had placed earlier. If that wasn’t impressive enough, she landed perfectly on her hooves, needing few, if any, midair adjustments.

The whole class applauded. I joined in late once their reactions convinced me I had actually seen what I had seen.

She wasn’t flapping her wings or anything like that! How did she get so high?

Dash hopped down with a triumphant grin and stretched her neck out in a show of confidence.

“Now, who wants to try next? She asked, running her eyes across the dozen and a half of us.
I felt a shared aura of timidity as most of our group unconsciously stepped back. I made a calculated decision to imitate them. I wasn’t afraid; I just didn’t want to go first.

That only left Zap.

She suddenly became aware everyone’s gaze had gravitated towards her. “Me?” she finally asked. “I mean, is it okay if it’s me first again?”

Rainbow nodded, and given permission to be her outgoing self, Zap’s wings started buzzing.

“Here I go!” she declared, charging headlong towards the edge of the cloud.

She flapped her wings once with delicacy as she timed her jump—and tumbled head first into the open sky.

I heard the buzzing return a second later. After brief mental static, my brain fessed up that it had momentarily forgotten that Zap, unlike me, actually knew how to fly.

“Not bad for a first attempt—especially since you didn’t wait for me to actually tell you what to do!” Rainbow said, suppressing the urge to laugh.

Zap blushed. “Sorry.”

“I love it! Rainbow declared. “A mare after my own heart.” She hugged her.

Rainbow’s subsequent explanation didn’t make me drowsy, but it was challenging for me to follow. She explained it with such confidence and energy that it was apparent she understood the physics of every motion necessary to launch a pegasus with minimal flapping.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t follow it too well. Despite my best efforts, I struggled to retain most of the technical explanation. In an effort to salvage something of the mini-lecture, it occurred to me that there were two key elements to the trick: letting the wind catch my wings on the updraft and redirecting my momentum by using the elastic properties of the cloud. I figured it was oversimplifying it, but at least I would be able to learn from the others’ failures.

“All right, then. River Glade, you want to go first—I mean second?” Rainbow asked.

I looked to my left and right: sure enough, the rest of the class had strategically retreated.

I started to sigh and formulate a mental complaint out of habit, but I actually wasn’t that irked. After all, success was unlikely, to begin with, so I figured I might as well get it over with so I could concentrate on learning from the others’ attempts, rather than dread my turn.

Rainbow walked over and gently adjusted me. “You want to aim your launch path dead center of the cloud. It gives you the most leeway.”

I nodded.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said.

In a moment of resolve, I smothered my fear and galloped towards the end of the cloud. I was pretty sure I could get the bouncing part, but catching the winds may as well be impossible.

For a protracted moment, my forward progress seemed to slow. A tendril of intuition reached out from someplace deep inside and tapped my mind as I remembered the best idea I had ever had in the form of a simple question: what if I drew energy from the winds, rather than the Earth?

My forward charge seemed to resume its proper pace and I made a somewhat fearful, but nonetheless decisive decision. After all, I had managed it once before.

I hopped forward at an angle and boldly opened my mind. There were traces of a familiar force, though it was much weaker than what I was used to. I had intended to draw it into me, but instead, I found myself engaging in a hidden, wordless dialogue. I flared my wings at its “suggestion” and angled them intuitively. It felt like folly; nonetheless, I allowed it to wash over me.

The backflip was actually the easy part, but still, I expected to faceplant. After all, it was too naive to expect a hastily thrown-together collection of ingredients to come together into anything resembling a success.

To my disbelief, I was carried gently upward. I felt like a feather in the wind, but my palpable physical momentum seemed to exist independently. I spent a half-second wondering how this could be.

In doing so I missed the apex of my jump and found myself at eye level with the target cloud on the way down. In stark contrast to the weightlessness of a moment ago, I dropped like a rock onto my rear end of the base cloud. Somehow the lack of a punishing physical impact seemed to make the sting of embarrassment all the worse.

I moved to stand up but quickly did a double-take to confirm my sneaking suspicion that I was on the edge of the base cloud. Despite my surviving one crash, the land below suddenly seemed a terrifying distance away. I reflexively did a backward roll I would struggle to repeat in a desperate bid to survive. This, of course, left me in what must have been an undignified position on my back, my legs and wings splayed out to increase my surface contact.

I stared at the expansive blue sky, which was obscured only by the target cloud.

At least I didn’t have to repeat my crash landing performance from last time.

I finally righted myself and took a glance at my gawking classmates. It was about what I expected.

“River—” Zap voiced with a puff of breath.

Beakington beamed. “That was—”

“Amazing!!” Rainbow finished for him.

“What?” I asked flatly.

“You were amazing!” she clarified.

“But I botched the landing!”

Rainbow laughed. “That’s the easy part! You won’t make that mistake again. I would have been happy if any of you got in on your third attempt, but you got it first try!”

“Show us again,” Alibi encouraged.

“But I—”

“We can wait,” Mortar Strike said, less-than-helpfully disarming my intended objection.

I scanned the smiles of my classmates for a break in their unanimous approval.

I melted under the scrutiny. “Uh… I’ll be frank: I almost fell off the cloud, and I—I don’t want a repeat of last class.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Rainbow asked, amused.

“Yes?” I responded.

“Pfft. That’s easy,” Rainbow said dismissively.

I wanted to snap back in a show of childish anger.

“Alicorn wings are different,” she explained. All you have to do is stick your wings out and you’ll glide… eventually, anyway. Twilight stopped crashing after we found that one out.”

“You’re just telling me now?” My anger coalesced in such a way that I sounded coldly detached.

“Oh, I didn’t let it slip my mind or anything,” Rainbow replied. “You see: there was a small chance you would have flown brilliantly on your first try—like you’re such a natural that you wouldn’t want training wheels or have anyone breaking down your mechanics.”

I stared at her perplexed, caught between residual annoyance and reluctant acceptance of her point.

She struck a pose with her front legs crossed over her chest. “I may not be the most responsible pony, and I love a good prank, but I always take flying seriously!” She struck a pose with her front hooves.

I nodded at her in appreciation.

“All right, who’s next?” she challenged.

The drill went on. After three ponies or so, I started to wonder if I would get another attempt, or if we would move on to something different. From Rainbow’s comments, the point of this trick was to improve both our takeoffs and our intuitive feel for our connection to the wind and the sky.

Remembering my mission, I looked around for Brass Ring. He was hard to miss, being bronze and gold, so a fleeting glance alone told me it was his turn to attempt the stunt. This gave me a little more time to strategize. It took me about eight seconds to mentally separate his friendship problem from Rough Rider’s. It had to do with him living up to the expectations of being someone’s friend.

I felt a weight and a pulling sensation of sorts at the prospect of pursuing the keys once more. The possibility of failure was looming large with the increased stakes.

Him, Rough Rider, Noble Truth. The others are hard enough, and I still only have one key. I sighed. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a good guy, and other ponies would have no problem being his friend. I don’t get why he puts so much pressure on himself…

“You think River did good because she’s an alicorn?” A filly I hadn’t met asked Windy Skies.

Probably…

“Absolutely not!” Rainbow announced, literally jumping into the discussion from out of nowhere with complete disregard. “Twilight still can’t do this. Besides, this sort of exercise barely uses a pony’s wings.”

I still felt undeserving of her coming to my defense. I doubted I could repeat my performance.

Brass Ring jumped and managed the backflip, but only got three feet in the air. To his credit, he landed on his hooves.

“You all right?” Alibi asked me.

I snapped out of my deep thought and regarded him. His big, black eyes seemed scrunched in genuine concern, but I knew better than to trust it.

“Yeah, more or less,” I said. “Just thinking about important things is all. I mean, you were there: you know what’s on my mind.”

“We’ve got time, and we’ve got multiple ideas, so it’ll probably be all right,” he assured.

What do you mean ‘we?’

I thought about saying it aloud but thought better of it.

“Well, I’m not much of a help for most of those options, so I have to concentrate on my role. I can’t just kick back and hope one of the other plans works,” I eventually responded.

“That’s not what I mean…” he said, somewhat hesitant.

I paused.

Was he actually trying to make me feel better, or was he trying to set me up?

Fortunately, I was saved from having to think about it thanks to Brass Ring’s return giving me an excuse to exit the conversation..

“Hey, Brass Ring!” I said with a little too much energy. “Have you thought about what we talked about before?”

“What now? Do you mean the restaurant?” “What did we talk about again?”

Ponyfeathers! I had hoped he would remember for both of u…

“You know, your high standards for friendship?”

On your end anyway…

He shrugged. “Mostly the same, but then again, I haven’t tried too much.”

“Have you met anyone you might want to be friends with?” I hazarded.

“No, not really,” he answered curtly.

“Well, if you want any advice, I’m here for you. We can strategize together.”

He stared.

I smiled awkwardly.

He shook his head in vexation. “I get you’re practicing princessing, but I don’t need a second mother.”

I looked down, dismayed. “I—I get it, but I… yeah, you’re right…”

He walked away while I was wallowing in shame. Stupid alicorn status confusing the power dynamics…

Alibi crept back towards me. “That didn’t go well, did it?”

“No…” I replied, not even mustering the energy to object to his eavesdropping.

“The old joke I hear is that stallions already have years of getting bossed around by mares to look forward to, so I get why he’d say that. Herds are rarer than my intel said, but I guess the joke still applies.”

My slight discouragement exploded into a pang of anxiety. “I just want to talk to him,” I mumbled. “I don’t care about this ‘filly talking to a colt thing’. I’d have asked the same question to a filly!”

Alibi grinned. “Ah, but it’s not that simple,” he chided. “Maybe you’re too young to understand, but there are a lot of unspoken rules to pick up on. Basically, everything is secretly courtship—even if it’s not courtship.”

Part of me acknowledged that he may have said something profound, but the larger part of me was just annoyed at the implication.

“I—I’ll figure it out,” I finally said through clenched teeth.

We made eye contact. I braced for him to jab at me because he hadn’t done so yet. Fortunately, Rainbow called him for his turn, and our conversation ended there. Alibi failed spectacularly at the stunt—somehow managing to bounce off a different cloud entirely and into the lake—but even that didn’t improve my mood much.

Contrary to my expectations, I managed to do the cloud jump again. Unfortunately, any triumph was soured by my quiet realization that my duty may be even more troublesome than anticipated. The net result of all of this was me returning to my tent feeling a bit glum.

I found myself secluded in the tent. Technically there were a few others present, but I wasn’t acquainted with anypony. More relevant was that I felt the reappearance of a phantom weight that had been dragging me down lately. I couldn’t place when exactly it had appeared, but it struck me like something long ignored was suddenly in the foreground.

I sighed. I knew the cause; it was something I had long suspected would manifest. After all, I was now noticeably smaller than everyone else in my classes.

Breathing in, I tried to lay out what I knew and assess my options.

The weight of the world is truly on my shoulders… Was my first (unhelpful) thought.

Still, it wasn’t completely true. In fact, me, contributing was actually an outside possibility. I knew it would probably be Quarrel, Diane, and maybe even that robotic emissary, Riks who would actually be the main actors. Even as young as my body was, I couldn’t stand to relieve myself from warranted pressure and responsibility. It was an integral part of me: I had to do whatever I could, no matter how small.

But my body will still protest this… stress.

I knew the day would come. A foal’s psyche and constitution just weren’t fit for what was required of me.

Celestia would coddle me if I voiced a single complaint. But this won’t work either… Come on, think!

I stared intently at the ground as I was washed with further clarity: this wasn’t work; all I had to do was help some foals with friendship problems.

I tried repeating this blunt fact to myself to little effect. If Equestria had taught me anything, it was that the immediacy of the moment can make all challenges—big and small—scale in importance. Even if “old me” would have laughed at my stressing about relationships with pony children, I still couldn’t help it mattering to “River Glade.”

It wouldn’t help anyone to wallow further. The adult in me suddenly re-emerged and temporarily parted the clouds. I still wasn’t going to cry to Celestia, but it was imperative that I break down this monster of a task into something a foal could handle. I needed to simplify.

“They’re just children…” I muttered. Like me, they struggle to fit in sometimes. Their problems aren’t complicated, but they feel big to them.

My eyes went wide as the answer jumped out right in front of me.

That’s just it! I can see their problems for what they are. I don’t need a grand scheme to resolve these problems; I just need to help them see what I see: they’re all perfectly normal foals—all the more so because they’re weird or silly! Spectacle, Pestle, and my other friends all have their quirks, but they’re more than worth being friends with!

I tapped my left forehoof idly as I came down from my epiphany. I just needed to keep trying to get through to them—connect with them.

My racing thoughts eased up. With that said, I wasn’t sure if the task was any easier, but I had to do it!

As if trying to escape my internal turmoil, my restless hooves had almost taken me outside into the open air. I acquiesced to their conspiracy once I realized it, but I still derided them for thinking the outside would be any less stressful with all the annoying ponies treating me as a tourist attraction.

“Hey, River!” I heard from behind me.

“Hi, Pink Diamond,” I hailed.

Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever been so happy to see her. Chatting about nothing in particular seemed really appealing right about now.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“Great! I love the camp life! I get to try so many different things. Social dancing, knitting, puzzles—they’re all so fun!”

“So you got the activities you wanted?” What am I doing? I can’t waste time with small talk…

“Mostly,” she answered. “I wanted to get into advanced gardening, but there was only one class slot. I probably need another year of practice before I’m ready for the next level, anyway.”

I laughed, perhaps a bit forced.

“I can certainly prove the notion that you should walk before you run. Rainbow Dash says she’ll make a decent flier out of me—if I survive that is...”

“She said that!?” Pink Diamond said, in total shock.

“No, no. I lightly embellished the second part. The point is, I’m not ready for the class; it’s not an ideal fit. I’ll get through it—I think—but I probably would be better off doing beginner stuff with Scootaloo.”

Why am I running away? I have my friendship mark in front of me, but I’m not even trying to make progress with her.

“Who’s Scootaloo?”

“Oh, she’s one of the first ponies I met when I arrived at Canterlot. She was on a school trip with her—no maybe it was just her friends… I don’t know. But I like her well enough and that’s all that matters, right?”

“That’s neat!” She said chipperly. “It was similar for me when I first got to Canterlot. But I guess everything is a new learning experience for me. After all, the whole Crystal Empire had been in stasis for so many years…”

Capitalize on the opportunity! She's just a filly with filly-sized problems. I can do this!

“Oh, that’s right!” I exclaimed. It had been mentioned only briefly to me. “I imagine you don’t recognize the world you came back to.”

She giggled. “Princess Celestia praises me for being so ‘adaptable.’

“What do you talk to the princess about? Not to pry or anything… but it’s probably different from what I talk to her about, though.”

I knew in broad strokes from Celesta’s notes, but hearing her tell it could be valuable.

She took a single moment to think. “I guess I can tell since you’re a princess—sort of!”

I’ll let that slide this time…

“You don’t have to tell me everything. I just want to know a little bit as your colleague in this exchange program.”

“I haven’t heard anyone else use the term, but I guess we are. Just think of it, how many foals our age get to say they have ‘colleagues’?” She giggled at the word. Then something seemed to occur to her. “And Princess Twilight is our most famous alumnus!”

I smiled. Slowly the warmth from our discussion pierced the guilt that I was avoiding the “work” in favor of small talk.

“I’m glad you got into the program. I might be like you: my parents signed me up, and I still haven’t gotten Celestia to tell me what my friendship problem really is.” I said.

Pink let out a laugh that suggested she could relate to the truth portion of the half-truth I had just concocted. The elder alicorn certainly liked to treat teaching like an interpretive art form in which her hapless student would be made to circle towards an unspoken destination.

“I kind of think that’s like mine,” she began. “I’m pretty sure it has to do with me being too worried about other ponies liking me. I mean, I’m good at being myself, but she keeps bringing it up like it’s something I need to work on. Like, I’m happy with myself—I think. It’s rather confusing…”

Half of me related heavily to what she just said. Another half of me felt like I was back to square one. And the other, mathematically illiterate half of me, couldn’t shake the suspicion that the solution to her dilemma was staring me in the snout.

“How’s camp for you so far?” she asked. I could almost see some tension let up in her facial muscles.

“Pretty good,” I answered with little thought. “I was worried that I wouldn’t like most of my activities, but aside from a botched landing, they’re mostly good.”

Although tackling rabbit problems with a delusional super spy filly and an actual super spy changeling is certainly something…

“What about you?” I asked, in a bold conversational countergambit.

“Pretty good!” she said with such pep that almost suggested she was waiting for an excuse to tell me. “I made friends with some of the middle schoolers from the neighboring towns. They were really nice. I was able to tell them about what our school is like and stuff.”

“Middle schoolers?” I asked.

It was a term I knew, but it made no sense in the way she was using it.

“They had to explain it to me too. Some smaller towns have too few foals for independent school districts but too many to just have one lower elementary and one higher elementary, so they have a third teacher for the ‘middle school.’”

If you’re so good at making friends, why do you need me? Was a tempting response, but probably one of the worst available. Nothing else was really coming to me so I settled for the best I could come up with.

“Are you making new friends in your activities?” I asked awkwardly. I felt like an idiot a second later, though, because those middle schoolers could very well be in the same activities as us.

“Somehow, that’s a little bit harder,” she said, weary. “I think it’s easier to be myself in front of younger foals; they seem to think I’m cool.” She giggled. “I told them I was going to FIlly Honor Society as an observer and they think I’m a mover and shaker.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I plan to go as an observer as well,” I replied, hoping my answer was benign enough to let the current topic pass unheralded.

“That’s strange. I thought we were voting you as chairfilly for Canterlot First’s chapter.”

I stared at her.

She stared back, confidence slowly faltering. “And I guess I wasn’t supposed to tell you—”

“Pink!” I said a bit too loudly. I think I did well controlling myself regardless.

“Yes!?” she yelped.

“We’re friends, right?” I challenged, licking my chops in preparation for a verbal lashing.

“Y—yes?” she replied, unsure.

“And wouldn’t friends tell friends if said friend was about to be the victim of a coup?”

“Wouldn’t a coup normally entail toppling somepony rather than installing her into a vacant position?”

“I stand by my wording.”

She swallowed. “We all think you’d do a good job—haha.”

I sighed. ”I became a prin—sort-of-princess just weeks ago. It’s not like I’m already on top of the social hierarchy.”

“Well, everypony at school wants your advice.”

“That’s different,” I answered quickly.

“How?”

“Well, that’s because—you know what? It’s not really different,” I confessed. “You all kind of snuck up on me like that.”

I saw guilt and a tinge of sadness on her face.

“It’s not all bad,” I hastily assured her. “I can handle advice. Leading meetings AND directing
activities is another matter entirely, though.”

Why am I downplaying it? My “court” is quite the hassle…

Pink Diamond suddenly visibly flinched and started looking around desperately. “Ah! I promised Waffle Crisp I’d meet with her. Gotta go! Bye!”

And just like that, I was left gazing at a trail of dust.

With some time still on my entirely metaphorical hands, I took a few uncertain steps toward my next activity. The moment I looked up, though, I saw someone I actually really wanted to chat with.

“Oh, hey, Bulwark. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?”

Her expression was sour. Oh, good. I needed more friendship problems.

“There’s a lot of talk,” said Bulwark. “They’re saying you’re actually little—like really little. That you’re a gifted foal that skipped lower elementary. But I don’t need gossip to know that you’re a lot smaller. I can still remember you throwing me off my hooves when we first met. Right now, it’s obvious to me that your legs aren’t long enough to pull off the move you used.” Her expression relaxed slightly. “You said you would explain it, but we haven’t really seen each other.”

“Sorry.” I said, without any real follow-up planned.

“It’s fine. I’m not mad, but—well, more than anything, I’m concerned.”

I sighed. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were upset. It’s really hard. I have a lot of weird circumstances that are really difficult to explain. For starters, I’m not from Neighbraska, but I can’t really say where I was born. I’ve also been getting younger. Both are secrets I imagine you know..”

Bulwark nodded. “Even seeing the change, it’s difficult to believe. Don’t living beings always snap back to normal when transfigured?”

I nodded. “I wasn’t sure that part was common knowledge, but it makes explaining easier. It’s—well, essentially, there’s an issue with my magical signature.”

Bulwark’s concern was plain on her face. “I’ve heard some unicorns talk about that before. Are you going to be okay?”

“I hope so… I mean, yes, I’ll be okay.” I felt bad for the white lie, but I wasn’t about to burden her with worry by disclosing the enormous pressure on me.

I’m doing the right thing, right? I can’t tell her I might turn into an infant and that I may basically die with all my memories being erased…

“Can you share a little?” She asked, with mindful patience.

I locked eyes with her and felt a flood of guilt. “My story from before—it was more than a little untruthful. The thing about being raised as a colt was a lie in the spirit of the truth. It’s… really hard for me to explain what really happened, though. It’s little consolation I’m sure, but I had my reasons for pretending to be a colt.”

I’m not about to tell her the truth that I changed genders. At best, I’ll confuse the living daylights out of her. At worst, she’ll think I’m some kind of freak…

“Were… you trying to disguise the fact that you were chosen by Celestia?”

A small panic popped off in me. “What!? What does that mean?”

Bulwark lightly rubbed the side of her snout with a hoof as she weighed her words. “Well, there’s some talk that Celestia chose you to be the next princess. I mean, Princess Celestia chose Princess Twilight, so I guess you would have been a chosen one of sorts. And nopony would believe a colt would be the next princess…”

That makes sense, but I guess truth really is stranger than fiction. Even I don’t believe it sometimes…

“Well, that rumor is partially true—I mean, at least a little. Celestia is trying to take the pressure off me, but she also has to protect me, especially now. Heck, I have a small division of pegasi guards watching over me at all times…”

“Oh, wow! I never noticed. Were they watching our mingling?”

I laughed despite myself. “Probably. It was probably a good thing I didn’t think about it at the time. Guess it goes to show I’ve gotten overly used to them. You’ll probably notice them now that I’ve told you. They’re not exactly masters of stealth…

Reminded of an actual master of stealth, Bulwark quickly scanned the sky. “Is Star Chart here?”

I shook my head. “No, she deserves a vacation,” I said in the most bland tone I could.

“Oh, River! I’ve been looking for you.” Spike announced, dashing towards me in short bipedal strides.

Bulwark smiled. “Thank you for telling me a bit more. I know it was selfish of me to get mad.”

I shook my head. “I’m the one to blame. Sorry for not being more trusting.”

With that, she nodded and galloped off.

“Hi, Spike,” I said, somewhat unsure of myself. I hadn’t interacted with Spike much, and I struggled to recall which iteration of me was the last he had seen. “You enjoying camp so far?”

Really? All I can do is small talk? I can talk to the Crusaders just fine. Is it the Twilight’s personal assistant part?

“Yeah! It’s been great!” He responded. “Other than me being totally unathletic—but four out of five activities have been good. Not much superhero news lately—only two incidents and the Miser’s been conspicuously absent after the jailbreak.”

I saw Alibi a dozen paces behind Spike, and he waved. I gazed deadpan daggers at him.

“That’s…strange,” I replied, somewhat nervous. I knew Celestia wouldn’t want me to out Alibi as a supervillain, especially considering our current location, but even setting him aside, I had to be especially tight-lipped about any changeling involvement.

“But I’m getting distracted with my own interests again,” Spike said, regaining his precocious professional demeanor. “I’ve got a letter from the Princess!”

“Which one?” I asked, somewhat stiffly as he waggled a scroll.

“Oh, right! With Twilight, it’s usually Princess Celestia, but you wouldn’t assume that. Anyway…”

He cleared his throat and broke the seal on the letter.

“Actually, Spike, I think I’ll read it myself.”

He sighed. “Yeah, that’s probably best. Orating is fun, though—makes me feel official…”

I scanned the letter. First, Celestia had agreed to my request to use the portal to visit with my sister intermittently. She had also found a mare that—with the help of a shrinking spell— would be able to use the portal and deliver the mana crystals and other supplies to the Rhod coalition. She also acknowledged that a desperate or violent solution with the Korpix might ultimately be necessary but pleaded for me to exhaust the alternatives first. Finally, the princess had confirmed Twilight’s hunch that there could be a third portal in the castle garden, though a more thorough investigation would be warranted.

He looked at me as if expecting something.

“Sorry, but it’s confidential stuff. Though, I’m still glad to see you again.”

Spike nodded. “If you don’t have any questions, I’ll send an acknowledgment back to the princess.”

He pulled a piece of parchment out of a pouch around his hip, scribbled on it with a quill, and ignited it. Within seconds it was dust.

All I could muster was a blank stare of confusion. It was good to know that Equestria could still throw me the regular curveball.

Spike suddenly hiccuped, and I took a cautious step back. He belched green fire which, to my surprise, did not set the grass ablaze. Instead, a perfectly preserved piece of parchment emerged when the flames subsided.

Spike read it: “Also, my sister says hi.”

I gazed through him, as I tried to make sense of what I had just seen. There was something of a pile-up in my mind, so the last thought bounced out of my mouth with no thought.

“You have a sister?”

“What? No, Princess Luna is Celestia's sister. She's the one saying hi. I mean, I guess Twilight is kinda mine, but she's…look it's complicated.”

I nodded my head. It seemed the thing to do. Setting aside my slight disappointment that I didn’t have a ready-made assistant waiting in the wings, I found my thoughts were slightly more organized now. “You can… teleport things by breathing fire on them?”

“Mostly just letters, but, yes. I asked Twilight to explain how I’m able to pinpoint the recipient’s location, but she wouldn’t tell me, citing a ‘centipede’s dilemma.’”

“That’s still pretty useful.”

“Well, I mean, I’d still rather have a real superpower…”

“Wait, so you aren’t using a special type of dragon magic?”

“Nope, just started doing it one day.”

“Well, how’d you start?”

“Umm… let’s just say—I may have sneezed in the proximity of Twilight’s diary…”

I cringed. “That must have been something…”

He nodded; a moment later his eyes spoke of a realization. “Oh yeah, I have another message.”

I instinctually stepped back.

“No, no dragon breath this time,” he explained. “Applebloom just told me to tell you to meet with her in the cafeteria about fifteen minutes before lunch.

I nodded in acknowledgment. Had my mind not been frayed by all the stress, I might have been able to figure out what it was about. As it was, I was curious about what it could be. As I pieced that thought together, I noticed that I was feeling a bit better.

I haven’t even done anything. I’m not complaining, but what good is a bunch of unproductive conversations when you desperately crave progress with eleven friendship problems?.

I continued to walk, starting to let my mind wander. I didn’t need to head straight to my next activity, but my hooves were taking me there anyway. I caught a glimpse of somepony I couldn’t place, but I froze a second later when I realized.

“Oh—hi, Mix-Up!” I hailed.

The pegasus turned. “Oui?”

“Oh—I…”

Oh, yeah, just say hi to the friendship student without a single plan or idea in mind. Genius move, Alice!

“You getting used to Equestria okay?” I asked, a bundle of nerves, praying that he wouldn’t see through my superficial improvised strategy.

“I suppose,” he said simply. Flying training is good. Social Dancing? Not so much.”

I took a breath. “There are so many ponies around here. Nopony’s worried about where anypony might be from. I hope you can get some practice with Equish while having some fun.”

He tugged on the duster scarf he had wrapped around his cerulean fur. It was a shade different from my own mane, but I lacked the vocabulary to explain precisely what the difference would be.

“So-so,” he said curtly.

You know, I might be able to help you,” I said with a smile, hoping that I could manage to come across as somewhat sincere. Admittedly, I was under pressure to get this task done, but it wasn’t like I was totally indifferent to him struggling in social situations—I had done that plenty myself since arriving.

“Why would you say zat?” he asked, somewhat skeptical of my offer, but not completely cold.

There was a moment of panic, which I must have been telegraphing with my eyes. Yet, one moment later I felt a rush of elation when I was struck by inspiration. Meanwhile, I briefly registered the tent to the left of me opening.

“I actually became acquainted with a zebra filly the other day, and I think that she’s a bit like you—a fish out of water I mean. Her name is Mindre. Maybe you could talk?”

“I don’t know—I’m not so good with ze fillies.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” Mindre said, proudly strutting out of the tent. I locked eyes with Bulwark, sitting inside the tent, and she waved.

When did Bulwark get back? This was their tent? With Mindre too? Whatever, if anypony asks, I planned everything!

I grit my teeth at these rapid developments. I felt I had lost all control, but I steeled myself by acknowledging it would take at least this much to be successful in my mission.

“Mix-up, this is Mindre. She’s a filly from a distant country.”
The recipient of my introduction grinned. “She means I’m a zebra.”

I winced slightly. At least the distant country part wasn’t contradicted… Still, I couldn’t get a good read on the Prench colt.

“So, Mix-up,” I began. “If Mindre is willing, maybe you could share your experiences regarding coming to a new place, culture shock—the whole package.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” The zebra said simply.

The three of us all glanced at Mix-up as if we had rehearsed it.

“Well…eer… but I do have a hard time talking to ze fillies…”

“You’re talking to three of them right now and not having any problems,” Bulwark countered, making the pegasus colt suddenly blush. “Seriously, you’re doing great! Nothing that would scare a filly away.”

Fortunately, Mindre seemed to know exactly what to do. She advanced a couple of paces and regarded him softly. “Look: we don’t want to make you uncomfortable or force you to do anything you don’t want to. Maybe we can talk during lunch to start.”

Mix-up nodded, relieved somewhat. Still, after hastily agreeing to a meeting place, he practically bolted, apparently at his limit.

“Thank you, Bulwark. You too, Mindre.”

“Sure thing,” the zebra said. “It sounded interesting, so I’m happy to help.”

Bulwark made eye contact with me. “It’s the sort of thing friends do!”

I couldn’t place it exactly, but I got the sense that she was also subtly taking the opportunity to needle at me and all my secrets. Regardless, the outcome was good.

I had left my tent half an hour in advance of my next class. When I got to the chess space, I was only five minutes early. In the abstract, that had been an exhausting gauntlet of encounters, but somehow I got through it okay.

The teacher hadn’t arrived yet, but Squirt was helping Iron Jill set the boards up again.

“Good game you played today,” said Jill.

“What? You mean the one where I dropped my loose center pawn?” Squirt replied, dejected.

“But you were winning!” Jill countered.

“If I was, I lucked into it,” said Squirt.

Jill stood up tall and pumped her arms to make a proclamation: “You know what they say: the best isolated queen’s pawn is an unprotected isolated queen’s pawn.”

“That makes literally no sense,” said Squirt as he swapped the king and queen on a board that was out of alignment.

“Well… you know, it’s like if you have no need to defend the pawn, it means your initiative has reached the point where your opponent can’t really take it.”

“But she did…” Squirt ventured.

Jill sighed. “I know you’re not where you want to be on the ladder, but you’re taking all the right steps to improve, and—oh, hello, River didn’t see you there!” she said with a hearty wave.

Squirt flashed a wide grin at me before moderating it a bit. “Hi. Didn’t know you took up chess, River.”

“I didn’t pick my activities myself, so I didn’t know either!” I replied chipperly.

“Ah, that’s right… Anyway, we were thinking about playing Trolls in the recreational tent after dinner. Daft Hat got the new Savannah Expansion! You’re in, right?”

I was happy for about a second before I remembered and sighed. “If you had asked me yesterday, it would have been an easy ‘yes,’ but alas, I’ve been committed to the Filly Honor Society. Umm… there are reasons, but they’re a bit hard to articulate…”

Squirt shrugged. “I get it.” He absent-mindedly turned both black knights on a nearby board to face straight forward toward the enemy formation.

“Like I said: I hardly want to go! It’s not like I’m totally getting into filly stuff now.”

Jill put a hand on my neck in solidarity. “It’s true. A girls’ sleepover was out of her element, but she did it for me. I imagine it’s something like that now, right?”

“Exactly!” I voiced, smiling at my minotaur pal.

I looked at Squirt for acknowledgment.

Surely that will convince him!

He thought for a few seconds and then visibly thought for a few more to piece the words together. “I mean, you pretended to be a colt for years. I don’t want to deprive you from learning how to deal with other fillies.”

I felt a little directionless anger; then that cooled to annoyance; finally, I just pouted.

Why’d you have to say something so sensible?

I sighed. “You’re not wrong, and that is part of the reason I’m subjecting myself to this… ‘experience.’”

Despite what he had just said, he looked slightly disappointed. I knew Trolls got exponentially better with more players, though, so I knew it wasn’t just about me not playing.

“But promise me you won’t stop inviting me for that reason!” I hastily urged.

“Ok. I can make that promise,” Squirt said, pensive. He then cracked his neck and scratched a fetlock. “I’ll try and wash off that defeat in the lake, but I gotta stretch first before swimming class.”

He thanked Jill for the lesson and then turned back to me. “You’ve got a good teacher here—and that one stallion I suppose—but try not to surpass me too quickly. I’m insecure enough already.”

“You can say that again,” Jill admonished. “How many camps have you been doing chess again, three?”

“Four,” Squirt corrected. “Gotta keep the facts straight so I don’t look more impressive than I really am.”

Jil shook her head. “You’re just a few good habits away from being good…”

Squirt laughed half-heartedly, primed to gallop off, before turning back awkwardly to acknowledge us again and galloping off for real.

“I didn’t expect you two to be on such good terms,” I said.

Jill smiled. “I have you to thank for that.”

The praise reverberated within me and compelled me to deny: “That can’t be! You’re giving me too much credit. I know the wings and the horn might suggest otherwise, but I’m not suddenly some kind benevolent sage…”

Jill idly shuffled a king that was already perfectly placed on the starting square. “It wasn’t anything big. You just helped me realize I can connect with others. Not to mention, you were the only one nice enough to come to the sleepover. From there, I was able to have a little confidence, and I took it from there. From Squirt’s perspective, I think it gives him confidence that he’s on good terms with a filly.”

I frowned.

Jill, tried to wave away the bad vibes. “No, I don’t mean it like he has romantic confidence. It’s sort of like confidence he can be friends with more than just colts who are like him. I know because I get that mutual feeling by being friends with Stardust and Sunny Style.”

I guess we have that in common now: she’s ‘the minotaur’ and I’m ‘the alicorn.’ That’s a little annoying, but it’s probably something I can get used to.

I truly didn’t know where to take the conversation from there. I tentatively decided that I’d be okay taking credit for my mundane actions. Fortunately, I was spared the need to continue the conversation when Alibi and a colt I didn’t know showed up in short succession.

I guess he hasn’t found another fake marefriend yet.

As more ponies filed in, I started to notice that I wasn’t the center of attention for once. Fast friends took seats at some of the tables and discussed strategies. I envied them, but I wasn’t desperate enough to strike up a chess conversation with Alibi.

The teacher arrived a few minutes after the last student. His lecture today was about space advantages. Jill chimed in politely when she could, reminding us that we didn’t have to understand all of this just yet and that the first step was just not losing your units for nothing. The stallion, meanwhile, was always eager to return to the topic of the day. I got the sense that it built his ego hearing himself talk about this esoteric topic.

So, he’s just telling us that it’s good to advance your pawns?

Just when I thought I understood it, he launched into a series of warnings about blindly advancing without regard to the squares you weaken, leaving me wondering if he was giving us any practical advice at all. I was happy for the lesson to end since I was clearly not getting it. Fortunately, Jill assured us that it would make more sense as we got experience.

For my first game, I was paired with Clever Theorem. We were supposed to be paired with opponents of roughly our own level, but most of my wins were against Alibi. I was optimistic when Theorem failed to heed the lesson’s advice and gave a pawn away on her third move. This was dashed quickly, though, and before I knew what hit me, her bishops and queen were slicing through my position and took my king’s head.

“Don’t be too down on yourself,” Theorem consoled. “I’ve been taking this activity for a few years now. I lost so many times to an aggressive colt that I emulated his style.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked her, still grappling with my loss. “It felt like I was losing before I knew it…”

“Just watch your f7 square!” she advised. “You got into big trouble by not blocking it off with your king’s pawn.”

Having been routed quickly, I paced around the playing area, trying to pick up some ideas for my next game. After completing the circuit, I realized that this was easier said than done. Half the games were one-sided blowouts with the losing side at least a piece down. The top board was one exception: black had a wedge pointing at white’s king, while white‘s pawns were far advanced on the other side of the board.

For my next game, I got the pleasure of playing Alibi again.

I ought to lodge a complaint against this whole ‘ladder’ idea. If he keeps winning and I keep losing after we play, we get nowhere and get paired together again.

Despite my slight annoyance at the circumstances, we played a fairly competitive game. I thought I was playing smart moves until I realized that my position was a mirror image of Alibi’s.

I guess we played all the same moves but in a different order.

This equilibrium didn’t last, and with some exchanges, I was left with an isolated d-pawn, similar to the one Squirt had earlier. Alibi instinctually aimed a rook at it.

I grinned. Thanks to Squirt’s game, I knew how to handle it. I didn’t have to be afraid about losing the pawn.

I somehow won the game, but it didn’t feel right. Alibi was pushing me around, and it took all my energy to survive. He dropped a piece after my protracted struggle, though, allowing me to steer the game towards a pyrrhic victory.

A few minutes later, I stammered my justification to Jill. “But… you said that Squirt didn’t need to defend it. How is it true for him, but not for me?”

“Because it wasn’t a good idea in the position you reached. Just because that evaluation was true in his game doesn’t mean you can just blindly imitate it.”

I scratched my head. “Chess is hard.”

“If it wasn’t, no one would stick with it long term.”

“I guess…” I groaned.

After everyone else had finished, we congregated for Jill and our teacher to do a quick run-down of all our games. When we got to mine, they were actually very kind, pointing out what I did right. Apparently, Jill had saved her sternest criticism for our private discussion. The stronger players even chimed in on what they might have done. I would have felt a little embarrassed, but honestly, it was completely genuine.

What a joke. My human classmates would be laughing in disdain if they could see this kind of hand-holding and back-patting.

I scanned the outdoor classroom. Everyone was smiling and engaged. Reconsidering, Jill had also given me the tough feedback I needed to hear.

Is measured praise really so wrong? A tougher approach would encourage us to… work harder, or would it?

A few months ago, I would have cursed it as another touchy-feely pony thing, but the results were staring me in the face with all the foals (and whatever Beakington was supposed to be properly called) having a good time.

I was in a good mood, unfortunately, that meant I had let my guard down. Waiting to ambush me was Pink Diamond and a couple of brightly colored fillies I didn't know.

Pink Diamond greeted me. “Hi, River! These are the middle schoolers I was telling you about. This is—

“I’m Waffle Crisp!” said the orange unicorn with a caramel mane.

“I’m Bouquet Ribbon. A pleasure to meet you, your high—err… pal… I guess?”

“You’re more perceptive than most,” I conceded. “I don’t have any official title—no princess in training nonsense. I’m Celestia’s student, but so is Pink Diamond.”

Pink Diamond felt the admiring eyes of her friends and blushed. “Oh, don’t be modest, River, you’ve been her student for how long?”

The others’ eyes returned to me.

“Not as long as you’d think,” I countered.

“Since we’re all being so honest, I may as well admit that Pink Diamond briefed us on the ‘you not being a princess thing’,” Bouquet explained.

I felt a wave of deja vu that I couldn’t place for a moment. Then it hit me.

“Pink, didn’t we learn last time not to do that to me?”

“What do you”—her eyes dilated. “Oh, that. I still feel a little bad about that.”

Waffle Crisp put a hoof on Pink DiIamond’s withers. “That sounds like a story. Tell us!”

Pink Diamond thought for a moment, then smiled, clearly succeeding in convincing herself. “Well, when River first got her wings and horn, I was telling some of the little foals about it and they wanted to meet her, and I kinda—sorta—volunteered her to help me read to them.”

Waffle Crisp let loose a shrill laugh. “You did that!? Pink, I’m younger than you, and even I know not to do that!”

“Sorry,” Pink Diamond said. “It’s not like last time, though. They just wanted to meet you. I only promised the introduction. I do think Bouquet had a question, but I’d hoped you wouldn’t mind…”

One question. How bad could it be?

I looked at the lime and pink filly and sealed my fate. “Ask away,” I said.

“Well, I’ve heard and seen you do your herd play-act with that pegasus colt, and I was wondering…umm…if you might let me join.”

My brain short-circuited upon abruptly connecting the dots following a momentary delay. My jaw dropped in sheer dumbfounding. I could almost feel my pupils dilate.

“She means Alibi Align,” Pink Diamond provided unhelpfully.

As if anyone else could cause this kind of trouble for me.

I shook my head a few times in exasperation. “I’ll still deny doing whatever you think I’ve been doing, but what the heck are you talking about?”

“I told you it was just a rumor that she was playing herd,” Waffle said, chiding her friend.

“Herd play is when young foals act out being in a herd,” Bouquet explained. “It’s old-fashioned, but it was supposed to be practice for the herd interactions. It’s just pretend, though, so you don’t have to worry about those rumors too much.”

I sighed and stretched a bit. “I take it everypony just saw me talking to him a lot?”

“It’s not just talk: it’s banter!” Waffle Crisp opined. “From the sound of it, you argue quite a bit, and that got ponies thinking.”

“He’s bringing in fake marefriends to try and win me over—or rather, trying to annoy me. Why would he do that if we were playing herd?” I challenged, raining down cold logic on their silly assumptions.

“Well, most thought you were acting out a scenario where he was having an affair.”

I rolled my eyes. What was there to say even?

“Umm… River?” Bouquet urged. “If you’re not playing herd, you should probably tone down the banter. He might think you’re into him.”

And somehow this situation has gotten stupider.

“Thank you for the advice,” I said, words dip-coated with all the irony I could muster.

“Any time!”

I sighed. “Look: I—”

Pink Diamond gasped. “We’d better get galloping; I’m going to be late to Social Dancing. Bye!”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Bye,” I spoke to the wind in annoyance, as the dust in their wake tickled my throat.

I channeled my annoyance into the soccer match in my next activity. I scored twice and generally played with my tail on fire. It did a lot to ward off my anxiety about the other ridiculous rumors and assumptions that surely were volleyed around me. To be fair, I doubted any could be as stupid as Alibi and me as play herdmates.

Think about something else. Oh, I know: lunch! And I sure earned it!.

I sensed a presence.

“You… you did well,” Blue Horizon panted. “I’ll have to level up my game for the next time.”

“I suppose you were on the other team now that I think about it,” I said thoughtlessly.

Blue Horizon reacted as if I had skewered her. “Am I just—you don’t—” Her eyes teared up. Then, something shifted as a grin and a fire in her eyes overtook the dejection. “Exactly what I would want my rival to say. Enjoy it this time, Lua—err I mean…”

I snapped to a stop. “When did you figure it out—wait—I never introduced myself to you even, so how—”

“Was it a secret?” the athletic filly asked in utter innocence.

I shook my head and facehooved at my own oversight—I had participated in our whole rival schtick without even realizing I wasn’t even in disguise.

I sighed. “I don’t owe you the story, but the reason I adopted the persona in the first place has become utterly irrelevant. If you’ve figured it out already, that’s actually one less awkward conversation I need to have. Uhh… we can work out the details of what this means for our rivalry later.”

Figuring I had fulfilled my social obligation, I took two steps to resume my march toward the cafeteria; unfortunately, she was on my tail.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I figured it out?”

“No.”

“Please,” she pleaded. “It’s a really compelling story. First, I asked around and nopony knew you. Then I noticed the lack of a cutie mark, and then the resemblance of you to Lua became undeniable.”

“So where’s the compelling part,” I panned.

She forced a laugh. “Good one, River!”

For a while, we were silent. I started and stopped a few times, but she dogged my steps all the way to the cafeteria.

“Look,” I finally said. “I have an obligation to deal with in the cafeteria. You can watch it, but please stay out of it. It’s only really relevant to Canterlot First students anyway.”

“What if I want something more interactive?” she asked.

I rolled my eyes. “I guess you could come to the Filly Honor Society meeting tonight., I hazarded.

“So you are participating then? Cool! I guess the rumors are true.”

Her chipper demeanor seemed to wear off like a Pestle Mix specialty potion. “But, I don’t go to Canterlot First or Second; I don’t think—”

“It’s fine! I invite you!” I blurted out. I could practically hear internal hissing at my lack of impulse control.

She walked a little ahead of me and pumped a foreleg. “That’s really great! I appreciate you doing that for me. I imagine you have unlimited invites, but it still feels like something special. I’m going ahead then!”

“You’re hungry too?” I asked.

“Not especially, but I want to get a good seat for the big event. Catch you later, Lua—I mean River!”

I sighed. Would the grapevine surrounding me ever cease to disappoint?

For a split-second I found myself thinking things would go up from here. Then I remembered what I was heading towards.

I entered the cafeteria.

I saw the Cutie Mark Crusaders right away. They were joined by a pinkish/purple filly I had never seen before.

“Hi, River!” Sweetie Belle greeted. “This is Diamond Tiara.”

Diamond Tiara shook her head. “I can introduce myself, thank you very much. But yes, I’m Diamond Tiara’ I used to be a school bully myself before these fillies made me realize the emotional baggage I was carrying around. It’s the least I can do to help another pony turn over a new leaf.”

“Well, the filly in question is…a bit hard to deal with.

Diamond smiled. “Don’t worry. I want to do this. I’d help anypony out.”

Just then, both of us caught sight of Annuity at the same time.

An awkward realization unfolded on Annuity’s face, followed by nervousness.

Diamond, for her part, almost recoiled at the sight before settling into a bitter anger.

“Any pony but her,” she clarified.

Author's Note

Surprise!