Welcome to the Gala

"This is gonna be the best night ever!"

When it came to the Grand Galloping Gala, it was either that or the complete opposite.

Ever since she was a filly, Spitfire heard a variation of those words at least ten times whenever the next Gala was a week away. It didn't matter if it came from a youngster or an elder; it was all the same. The Gala was an event which got the blood pumping. Soothing serenades, delicious delicacies, and constant chatting defined the event. Spitfire couldn't blame anypony for hopping around at the thought of those.

Spitfire wasn't just anypony, however.

Spitfire was now a Wonderbolt, the ultimate sign of flying prowess.

She'd just finished up a dazzling display with her teammates; they were always highlights of the job. The wind blowing across her mane, the crowd hollering their names, gliding inches away from her partners and making maneuvers which could turn most ponies pale, and so much more brought a smile to her face. The dryness of her throat and her brief panting after the show couldn't take the joy of flying away from her. Donning the tight but comfortable uniform and taking to the skies was a job Spitfire saw as almost perfect.

There was one caveat to all of this.

The majority of required social events were dreadful; the Grand Galloping Gala was one of these required events.

If the ponies commonly associated with the Gala were anything to go by, the snobbish mares and stallions which flaunted their status at every opportunity, today's mingling would be even worse than usual. If Spitfire could avoid bumping into any smug, rude ponies, she'd count that as a success.

It wasn't as though Spitfire was paralyzingly shy. She'd strike up conversations and spend time with other ponies. Some ponies even became her friends. At the same time, while she had the ability to gossip about the latest books or brag about her abilities with a grin across her face, Spitfire would sometimes block herself from speaking. Nothing dramatic would come from it, but words would fail to leave her lips.

Growing into the confident, tough mare she figured she'd become wouldn't happen overnight. Spitfire knew this well. At least the Gala had some places to practice socializing.

All she needed to do was avoid making a social blunder; she sought to avoid reliving the day she accidentally wronged a friend like she did in school. Even if she made up with her friend in the end, Spitfire still cringed whenever she recalled the incident. That day was only known by four other ponies: Spitfire's parents, Misty Fly, and Soarin. The first three made sense. Her parents always supported and guided her while Misty did much of the same. Soarin, however, was a stallion Spitfire wasn't too familiar with. Something about him urged her to be a bit more open. Was it his lighthearted nature?

"Is everything okay, dear?" a voice asked.

Spitfire broke out of her trance and perked up. "I'm fine," she said. Turning around, she locked eyes with Stormy Flare, the purple dress adorning her shimmering like stars. Her mother did have a knack for fashion. "Just thinking about the Gala. I'm hoping it's as awesome as everypony says it is."

Stormy Flare caught up to Spitfire. Both of them trotted alongside each other. "Are you sure? You've been so quiet all day."

"Yeah, though it's not like it's anything new from me." Spitfire was an oddity among Wonderbolts. Most of her teammates desired attention, sometimes going to humorous and embarrassing lengths to get it. Spitfire just alternated between talkative and shy. Social skills were never something she excelled at; some of the memories of school attested to this. "I'm kinda at a loss for words at how humongous this place looks. It's kind of overwhelming. I—don't even know where to begin or who to talk with."

"Are you afraid of how other ponies will see you?"

"Always." Spitfire took a quick breath. "Having the spotlight almost always on you can be intimidating."

Stormy Flare stretched her foreleg out and rubbed Spitfire's shoulders. A faint smile ran across the Wonderbolt's face. "I understand if you're nervous, dear. Almost everypony would be anxious about being the center of attention." Pausing, Stormy Flare then released a chuckle. "I remember when I had to try out for the school play when I was younger."

"That was when you had trouble singing, right?"

"That's right. You're lucky you didn't have to hear it."

Spitfire's expression turned into a smirk. "If your description of the music teacher cringing was anything to go by, I bet I was lucky."

"But even though it was tough, ponies still respected me for who I was."

"You're always fun to be around, after all." Spitfire's smile vanished like a mirage. She lowered her head, gazing at the cobblestone road she traversed over. "Still, I think my biggest concern is that I won't have fun tonight."

Stormy Flare arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Like, I don't know what I should talk about. I'd say something awkward and get laughed at if I'm not careful."

"Spitfire, nopony is going to laugh at you as long as I'm here. Just show them the confident, friendly you and things will go well. Promise."

Nodding, Spitfire brought her gaze back to Stormy Flare. "Well, mother knows best." She sighed. Even if Stormy Flare was right, the tingling in her chest still existed. "Still, what do I even say to the ponies here?"

"Have you talked with your fellow Wonderbolts?"

Spitfire shrugged. "Not really. I've talked with Misty Fly and Fleetfoot a bit, seeing as we're the youngest on the main team. We always congratulated each other and saw ourselves as the best back when we were cadets. Other than them, I've only said a few words to the others—some of them I've never talked to outside of making strategies."

"Well, this is the perfect place to get to know them better." Stormy Flare playfully nudged Spitfire. "My daughter is the best pony in the world, and I'm sure others will agree once they know you better." With glowing eyes, she assumed a smile. "You just have to put yourself out there."

"That makes sense to me."

Spitfire looked up. Looming above her and Stormy Flare was none other than Canterlot Castle, the marble structure likely the size of three adult dragons. Lights danced around the castle's perimeter like fireflies and ponies mingled on the balconies. Wineglasses were in their hooves, shattering sounds filling the air seconds later.

A hurricane of voices swirled above Spitfire as she approached the entrance, all entering in her ears. Why anypony would need a castle so grandiose was beyond her; humbleness was something she preferred most of the time, even for an occasional braggart like her. But it was Princess Celestia's abode and appealing to the eye, so she could forgive this example.

Then, a group of ponies exiting the castle all brushed shoulders with her. A few bothered apologizing while the rest of them grunted and carried on. Spitfire could sense the frustration oozing from her mother, the lack of manners coming from those ponies clearly prodding her coat.

On the other hoof, Spitfire apologized to each pony she rubbed against. None of them happened to be her fault, especially with some ponies seemingly bumping into her on purpose. She wondered if the Gala wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Some of the passersby had worn deep frowns and grumbled, a far cry from the jumping about and cheering one expected from the Gala.

Such rude reactions struck her nerves.

"Looks like the VIP section is a little busy," Stormy Flare said as a matter of fact.

Spitfire merely nodded. Her mother's observation was a little too obvious.

"Have you visited the VIP section before?"

Spitfire then shook her head. "I haven't," she replied. "Hopefully, there's somewhere quiet we can sit."

"I'd be glad with just sitting." Stormy Flare blushed. "I haven't sat down in what feels like days."

"I know where you're coming from." Spitfire's lips pursed for a second. "Heck, I could go for some water. I'm parched."

"Let's get something to eat and drink, dear." Stormy Flare winked. "And there will be plenty of ponies to meet."

The two pegasi made their way into the ballroom, the silver floor beneath them cooling Spitfire's hooves at the touch. A small line already stood before them. Ponies wearing fancy dresses or suits passed through a blocked entrance one or two at a time. A burly guard with a rough beard and ruffled wings held a clipboard, but his eyes always locked onto somepony. Much of what Spitfire assumed was the dance floor was covered with tables and chairs; the larger ones bore fruit, bread, water, pastries, and a variety of other treats.

And already seated at some of the tables were her fellow Wonderbolts. Soarin had a pie in hoof and was ravenously devouring it, onlookers unable to avert their gaze. Surprise carried a plate with a tower of food atop it, Spitfire tilting her head and shrugging at the sight. That tower also earned some curious glances and dropped jaws.

Her teammates were all wonderful to be around; she couldn't deny that. However, they were—unique. Spitfire smiled, shuffling her hooves toward the guard.

"Next," the burly voice orated.

Spitfire approached the stallion, having to look up in order to make eye contact, with Stormy Flare standing next to her. Her throat tightened a tad.

"Name?"

"Spitfire," she said.

"Stormy Flare," her mother added.

The guard glanced down at the notepad. With a stiff upper lip, his eyes shifted about. A bugbear would've probably winced if he stared at the stallion, but Spitfire kept a straight face. She stood firm, muscles locked into place and eyes closed.

"You're both on the list," the guard muttered at last. "Go ahead."

Spitfire opened her eyes. A second later, she wore a bright smile, eyes glowing like the sun.

"Thank you," Stormy Flare said. "I hope you have a great day."

"Yeah, we wish you well," Spitfire added.

Slightly nodding, the guard motioned the pair through the entrance. Spitfire couldn't help herself from keeping her eyes glued to the guard. She'd faced and vanquished monsters, some of them being probable threats to Equestria, which were exponentially less intimidating than that stallion.

Spitfire just hoped the rest of the night would be smooth sailing.

"Was that so hard, dear?" Stormy Flare asked. "You talked with the big guard like a champ."

Spitfire rubbed the back of her neck. "He was kinda scary," she confessed. "And trust me, I've seen a lot of stuff ponies would find scary."

"As I've said before, we all find different things scary." Stormy Flare rubbed Spitfire's back; the latter sulking a little. "If you were able to handle that well, everything else will be a piece of cake." In the blink of an eye, Stormy Flare eyed a chocolate cake, hundreds of slices displayed for ponies to take. "Speaking of which, a piece of cake might cheer you up."

"I'm not sad, mother." Sad wasn't the right word; it didn't constrict her muscles like a python. Anxious was more like it. Spitfire could've sworn she was turning into a carbon copy of that filly she went to school with. Fluttershy was her name, if she recalled correctly. Maybe she was also at the Gala, though if her memory was right, chances are she'd be at home. "It's—just funny being in a place this big and busy."

"Well, if you ever feel like talking about it, I'm here for you."

Spitfire forced a smirk. "Thank you." Hearing those words did warm her heart a little.

"You're welcome, dear. Now, let's get some food and find a place to sit."

The two approached the large tables, grabbing plates and scrutinizing the food on display. Spitfire wouldn't have minded digging into some of them, though her stomach urged her to avoid eating too much. Skipping most of what she saw, Spitfire opted for a sandwich, an apple, and some water. Stormy Flare ended up with two of the aforementioned pieces of cake. A salad and a selection of vegetables completed her plate.

As they approached an empty area with their food, Stormy Flare couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and stare blankly at Spitfire's plate.

"That's not a lot, dear," Stormy Flare murmured. She paused for a few seconds. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

"I'm positive," Spitfire said without a second thought. "I'm just not that hungry."

"You're always welcome to tell me."

"I'll be okay."

Spitfire knew she wasn't okay. Her heart thrashed about. It wasn't as though she had trouble talking with other ponies in the past. Doing that was effortless at times.

This, however, was different. An itch in the back of her mind wouldn't let go of the possibility of acting awkwardly. Accidentally saying or doing something mean to a friend or teammate would be the worst. Spitfire recalled the day where she upset a pony she cared about. And despite apologizing profusely, she couldn't let go of the two times she acted inappropriately by accident.

It'd happen a third time. Spitfire was certain of that.

Having it happen in front of her mother would just add the salt to the wound if it happened.

"Hey, rookie!" a voice hollered.

Spitfire turned toward the voice's source. Approaching her was Soarin, another pie in hoof and a beaming grin across his face. The pegasus reached her and Stormy Flare, placing the pie on an empty part of the dining table.

"Hello, Soarin," Spitfire muttered. "What's up?"

"I wanted to say that you were awesome at the show!"

"Thank you. I do try my best."

"Your best was wonderful!" Soarin clasped his hooves together, pupils sparkling. "You're gonna be the youngest captain ever in no time!"

"Is that so?" Stormy Flare asked, mouth agape. "My daughter as the Captain of the Wonderbolts?"

"Totally!"

"Well, I don't think I'm ready quite yet," Spitfire muttered. She froze in place. Modesty wasn't exactly what most ponies knew her for; maybe her anxiety was spiraling out of control. Sitting upright, she cleared her throat. "I mean, I'm totally going to be a great captain!"

"That's the spirit!" Soarin pumped his hoof into the air. Placing it back on the table, he then turned to Stormy Flare. "And you must be Spitfire's mom."

Stormy Flare nodded. "That's right."

"What's your name?"

"My name is Stormy Flare." She stretched her foreleg out, gently shaking Soarin's hoof. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Soarin."

"Same here!" In the blink of an eye, Soarin turned back to Spitfire. "I've been meaning to ask, are you liking your first Gala as a Wonderbolt, Spitfire?"

"It's okay, I guess," Spitfire replied. She sheepishly smiled. "Some parts of it are pretty, though that's Canterlot Gardens for you."

"C'mon, Spits." Soarin cracked a slight grin, then chuckled. "This Gala is amazing! I know it's your first time and all, but just be yourself."

"Myself?"

"Yeah, I know there's a cool, confident mare inside of ya. You just gotta not let the nervous stuff get to ya. Not everypony is gonna be rude like—like that Prince Blueblood—or whatever his name is."

"I've heard of him. Did he make a poor first impression on you?"

Soarin winced as if he'd seen a swarm of parasprites. "Spitfire, that's an understatement. The less said about him, the better. I doubt you'll bump into him, so don't sweat it. And don't worry if you do. Try to focus on having fun, please."

"Anyway, Soarin made a good point about being yourself, dear," Stormy Flare said. "You're charming, intelligent, and fun to be around."

Spitfire's face donned a smile of her own. Nodding, she then took a small bite of her sandwich. "Well, I guess I could chat with some of the other ponies. I've been meaning to be more sociable."

"There's bound to be a lot of ponies who'd love to know you." Stormy Flare passed a plate toward Spitfire, a slice of cake sitting atop it. "I got this for you, dear. I know you're not too hungry right now, but if you ever need something to eat, I'll save this for you."

"Thank you."

"No problem, dear."

The three pegasi mingled for a few more minutes. A variety of subjects made up their conversation. They ranged from the Wonderbolts to their hobbies and everything in between. Smiles and laughter were woven into each topic. Spitfire was rather pleased Soarin flew toward her. There was a charming side to him that warmed her heart. Whether they'd become friends was still up in the air, but at least he was a nice acquaintance.

Though he had his bouts of silliness as well.

Soarin spent at least half of that time digging through another pie, even going so far as to ask if Spitfire would eat her slice of cake. The answer was that she would, though she'd never seen anypony with such an appetite. Always getting hungry after a show seemed to be how Soarin lived. And as for Stormy Flare, she took her time with her meal. With each bite, she'd smile and comment on the fruity flavors she tasted.

Spitfire's meal was rather basic compared to what everypony else had on their plates. The sandwich had a nice, fresh taste and the apple lived up to Sweet Apple Acres' impeccable reputation, but the food didn't excite her tongue too much. It was delicious, just not exotic.

Sometimes, those were the best kind of meals.

With her plate devoid of any food, Spitfire pushed herself away from the table and stood upright.

"I'm going to trot around for a bit," she said. Scanning the perimeter of the room, she noticed a few groups already immersed in conversation. Some had wide openings while others seemed to shut off anypony who tried joining in. "I'll meet with you here as soon as I'm done, okay?"

Stormy Flare nodded with a bright smile. "That sounds wonderful, dear," she replied. "I love how much you're taking charge."

"Future Captain of the Wonderbolts right there," Soarin added. "Trust me, she's gonna get there in the blink of an eye."

Spitfire feigned a chuckle. "Well, I don't think I have the toughness yet."

"You'll get there soon enough." Soarin winked. "Trust me."

"We'll see." Spitfire trotted past the table; she waved to Stormy Flare and Soarin. "Anyway, I'll try to be back in a bit."

"Have fun, dear!" Stormy Flare shouted.

For the first time in hours, Spitfire was now by her lonesome. It felt rather strange in a way, even if being independent was nothing new to her. Maybe Stormy Flare's presence helped her get through the Gala in the first place. Her mother coming along was one of the best things which could've happened to Spitfire tonight. She'd be lost without her guidance to steer her in the right direction.

But now, Spitfire needed to take the next few steps. She needed to attempt socializing herself if she was ever going to feel comfortable. After all, the melancholic moments of her youth did teach her that moping wouldn't solve everything. Spitfire knew she'd have to take action at some point, and with an array of ponies to chat with, now was the best time.

Her options were limited.

Spitfire glanced over at the leftmost corner. Some ponies were huddled up into groups while others only had one to two in their social circle. Unfortunately, most of their scowling expressions and wrinkled faces were like barriers to joining them. At least that was what Spitfire assumed.

Still, the unicorn stallion with a Royal Guard next to him seemed like a good bet to strike a conversation with. There was something about his relaxed posture and occasional fits of laughter which captured her attention. Spitfire was already somewhat familiar with him; Shining Armor was his name if she recalled correctly.

"Okay, I can do this," Spitfire whispered to herself. "Time to be cool."

Taking a few short steps, her breathing heavy, Spitfire approached Shining. The goofy grin plastered across his face seemed to hint at kindness, but looks could be deceiving. Some of the foals she knew from school fit that description perfectly. They were charming on the outside and wielded a sharp tongue.

"Um, excuse me," Spitfire said, her calm tone surprising herself. "Do you mind if we talk for a bit?"

Shining whispered something into the guard's ear, the latter then trotting away. "Sure thing," he answered, making eye contact with Spitfire. "I see you're a Wonderbolt."

Spitfire looked down for a second, the blue and yellow uniform covering her body indicating as much. "Yep." She brought her head back up. "That's me, though I'm guessing the uniform gave it away."

"Yeah." Shining rubbed the back of his neck. "I've seen some of the stuff you all do. It's so cool! It makes me wish I could fly at times."

"We do have some nice stunts." Spitfire smirked and ruffled her wings. "Practicing them all takes a lot of time, but it feels so good when you get it down."

"Tell me about it. I've had to practice being Captain of the Royal Guard for months now." He shuddered ever so slightly. "It's far from easy, but I always do a little dance when I know what to do."

A chuckle left Spitfire's mouth. "That's a funny thing to do."

"Yeah, but it's perfect for getting rid of tension."

"I bet." Spitfire took a quick breath and her muscles loosened. "By the way, you're taking over for Ironhoof, right?"

Shining nodded. "Yep, though I have to complete a course before it's official. There's—" Shining wore a nervous smirk "—a lot more reading than I expected."

"I'd imagine some of the books are interesting." While novels were Spitfire's preference, historical or educational books also occupied a place in her heart. Not all of them struck her interest, but those which did were impossible to glance away from their pages. "Anything by Commander Hurricane or Mare Tzu you've had to read?"

"Both of them, actually. The second one you mentioned is probably my favorite of the two." He paused for a moment, rubbing his muzzle. Spitfire arched an eyebrow in response, only for Shining to return with widened eyes and a glowing visage. "Say, have you met my little sister?"

"Your sister?"

"Yeah! Twilight Sparkle's her name. She adores books so much!"

Spitfire shook her head. "Sorry, but I haven't met her. Is she here?"

"She's at home studying right now. It's unfortunate, because she has been always curious about the Gala, but maybe she'll come in the future. I'm hoping to get her into at least one in three years."

"Well, I hope she has fun."

"Same here." Pausing, Shining trotted an inch closer to Spitfire. "By the way, I never got your name. What is it?"

"Spitfire, sir." She bowed, extending her foreleg out. "It's an honor to meet you."

"Shining Armor's the name." Grasping Spitfire's hoof, the two shook their forelegs for a moment. "I'm guessing you're already familiar with me."

"I sure am." Spitfire straightened herself out. "Being the captain of anything must be quite a challenge. I don't know if I'm talented enough for it."

"Maybe not now, but you may become a captain one day."

Spitfire blushed underneath her uniform; she snickered. "You're not the only one to say that tonight." Wiping her sheepish smile away, Spitfire then shrugged. "But still, I don't know what I'd do if I became Captain of the Wonderbolts."

"A little confidence and being yourself is important. I learned that much during my time as a Royal Guard." He stretched his hoof out and gently patted Spitfire's head. "Maybe now is not the time, but you'll know when the time comes. It happens to all future captains, and even if you don't become one, being a Wonderbolt is quite an accomplishment."

"Yep."

In a flash, Spitfire's smile returned. Recalling the day she pranced around Cloudsdale with her acceptance letter always warmed her heart, the bubbly smiles from her friends and family something also glued to her brain. That was when boasting about her achievements was simple for her. Maybe her anxiety was keeping her from visibly being proud about her achievements. She wouldn't be the first or last pony to experience this.

"Say, if you ever need anything, just call for me or send me a letter," Shining said. "The Wonderbolts and the Royal Guard stick together, and I'd be more than willing to help you if you need it."

"Feel free to do the same for us, sir."

"Just call me Shining Armor." His cheeks flushed. "No need to be so formal right now, ya know?"

"Well, it is the Gala."

"Just focus on having fun right now, okay?"

Spitfire gave a quick salute. "Yes, Shining Armor."

"Excellent! Anyway, I do have to catch up with the rest of the Royal Guard, so I hope to see you later." Turning around, Shining trotted toward the winding staircase, a skip in his step. "Take care, Spitfire!"

"You too, Shining Armor." With the stallion soon out of sight, Spitfire breathed a sigh of relief. "That was easier and more fun than I expected." Her eyes brightened. The tension in her muscles loosened at last. "Maybe I can do this after all. I just have to find another pony to mingle with, then I can meet up with my mother and tell her how things went."

The world around Spitfire brightened. The idea that the Grand Galloping Gala would be the best night ever didn't seem like a myth. To Spitfire, said myth was rapidly becoming reality.

A rough shoulder bumped into her.

"Watch where you're going," a voice commanded. Spitfire shuddered, swiveling her head and locking eyes with a white unicorn. His blonde mane had a distinct sheen, shiny enough to blind almost anypony. The grin adorning his face reeked of smugness; Spitfire almost threw up in her mouth at the sight. "Don't you know you're supposed to give the Prince Blueblood some room?"

Prince Blueblood was a name Spitfire knew of, though she'd never seen his face before. However, gazing into his blue eyes made her wish she'd never seen him before. He wasn't more hideous than a hydra; his coat looked silky smooth and he wore a stylish red tie. However, the aura coming from him reeked of rotten onions.

"Why are you giving me that look?" Blueblood continued. He stuck his nose up and swished his tail. "I don't care if you're a Wonderbolt—whoever you are—but don't act so weird here. This is the Grand Galloping Gala."

"I know what this is," Spitfire muttered. She then clenched her teeth for a second. A desire to slap some politeness into Blueblood was on the tip of her mind, though her heart kept her hooves in check. "I know this is the Gala." Spitfire ruffled her wings and approached Blueblood. "Look, I wasn't even moving, but I'm sorry if I was in the way."

"You'd better be sorry." Blueblood swished his mane about; Spitfire just rolled her eyes. "Though I doubt that a simpleton like you would understand proper manners."

A needle pricked Spitfire's nerves. Then, her veins bulged ever so slightly.

"Excuse me?" Spitfire blurted out. "Did you just call me a simpleton?"

"Of course I did. Only the elite, such as myself, know etiquette."

Spitfire shuffled her hooves even closer to Blueblood, shoulders sagged. "Well, if that's the case, I'd rather not know your kind of etiquette."

A nervous chuckle left Blueblood's lips. He forced a smirk; his cheeks tautened. "You think I'm the rude one? If you weren't standing there and not doing what a proper pony would at the Gala, then none of this would even be happening."

"Stop it, Blueblood." Spitfire exhaled. Her chest tightened and blood boiled. "I barely even had a chance to move before you waltzed in and had to make a scene of everything." Looking around the room, Spitfire noticed most of the ponies gazing at her or Blueblood. For some reason, the eyes pointed at her wore sympathetic expressions. Those focusing on Blueblood had fierce, scowling visages.

With a quick sigh, she made eye contact with the stallion again.

"I get what's going on," Spitfire confidently said. "You're just placing the blame on somepony else."

"I'd never do such a thing."

"Tell me, have these kind of things ever happened to you before?"

Sweat poured down Blueblood's brow. He bit his lip. "Um, no?"

Spitfire's lips remained pursed. She arched an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe I did get into an argument with somepony. Coco was her name—or something." Stepping back, Blueblood shifted his eyes about. "I was at a show in Manehattan when I went through this same thing."

"Thought so." Spitfire's muzzle scrunched up. "Blueblood, maybe you should think about why this is happening. Is it any wonder why some ponies give you mean looks?"

Blueblood quickly shook his head. "No. Maybe I should just avoid fashionistas and Wonderbolts."

"But I never wronged you. Heck, I barely even know you."

"Somepony as grand as myself knows what ponies are like the moment I see them. It's that simple."

Blinking, Spitfire rubbed her eyes and clenched her teeth for a moment. "And—don't you think you might be wrong? What if you are wrong?"

Blueblood shook his head. "I'm never wrong. I don't need to change because I'm already perfect."

"Look, if you're refusing to change, I'm done dealing with elitist jerks like you. Just leave me alone and go crawl back to your little den." With a groan, Spitfire trotted past Blueblood, refusing to even glance at him. "Goodbye."

And with silence filling the room, Spitfire kept staring at the floor. Her reflection was clearer than crystal. Aches coursed through her at the sight of her deep frown. To think it was all going so well; somepony just had to barge in and get Spitfire involved in some drama. Now, all she could do was wait for the day to end. Ponies would probably forget about this at some point, but it'd take a few days at most for Spitfire to recover.

Returning to the dining area had to be the highlight of Spitfire's night. It was like returning to her home away from home, the shining smiles keeping her head held up. The dining area carried on as if nothing had happened. Ponies still gossiped and ate as they usually did, waiters and waitresses picked up plates and silverware, and a lack of tension permeated in the air.

If only the rest of the Gala was like that.

Now, making it through the rest of the day was what mattered most. Spitfire was aware moping would only make things worse, so forcing a smile across her face, she strode toward the tables.

Only a few seconds passed until she reunited with Stormy Flare, her mother appearing somewhat concerned.

Maybe some melodrama was unavoidable.

"Spitfire, is everything okay?" Stormy Flare asked. "Did it not go well?"

"Sort of," Spitfire said. A sigh left her mouth. "I met Shining Armor, who was nice and fun to talk to, but then Prince Blueblood bumped into me. I may have made myself look a little too rude."

"What did you say?"

"Well, he was being rude to me after running into me. I called him an elitist jerk and told him to crawl back into his den in return."

Stormy Flare's eyes widened. A gasp almost escaped her throat. "Oh, my."

"Maybe I should apologize."

"Don't worry about it," Soarin replied, trotting up to Spitfire and Stormy Flare. "Blueblood—kinda does that. Nopony would blame you for getting angry, Spits. It might have not been the best idea, but you weren't being a bad pony."

Spitfire locked eyes with Soarin; she tilted her head. "Really?"

"Yep. Heck, Princess Celestia herself has seen ponies scold Blueblood and she ends up agreeing with them almost all the time. Getting him to behave must be one of the hardest parts of the job for her."

"That's—interesting." Spitfire paused for a moment. She cleared her throat. "But I should still apologize when I can. I don't want things to get worse like that moment in school."

"Things will be okay in the end. Trust me on this one." Cracking a smile, Soarin then winked at Spitfire. "And I remember you telling me about that moment. You made up with your friend after that mess from school, right?"

"I did."

"So ya don't have to keep worrying about it. We're gonna make mistakes at some point. I once threw a perfectly good pie after getting mad at somepony." A nervous laugh escaped his lips. "Just focus on being your best."

"Sounds like a plan." Spitfire ruffled her wings and took a deep breath. Then, she straightening her posture. "And I guess learning from my mistakes is one of the most important parts, right?"

Soarin nodded. "Yep!" Pausing for a moment, he nudged closer to Spitfire, gently patting her back. "Also, if what you said was true, I bet you'll become the future Captain of the Wonderbolts! Stuff like that can be scary and tough, you know."

Snickering, Spitfire blushed. "Yeah, maybe you have a point."

"The next step would be knowing when being that tough is appropriate."

Stormy Flare made her way up to Spitfire, gently wrapping her with her forelegs. Warmth coursed throughout Spitfire's body. "See, turning that into something positive will make you feel better, dear," she said. "I'd still recommend being nice most of the time, but there's a lesson you can take from this."

With a quick nod, Spitfire's smile widened. She was then released from Stormy Flare's hug. "Thanks for the support, everypony."

"No problem!" Soarin shouted. "Now, let's truly make this the best night ever!"

"Sounds like a plan!" Spitfire glanced over to the table, her piece of cake still awaiting an owner. "But first, maybe I should fill up with some cake."

Needless to say, the rest of the Gala continued without conflict. Spitfire spent the remainder of the night with her fellow Wonderbolts. She shared the story of her meeting Shining Armor and then arguing with Blueblood. After captivating everypony with the tale, they all reached the same conclusion: Spitfire would become the captain one day. It made that old phrase, "This is gonna be the best night ever," seem uncommon in comparison. While mastering the art of social skills would still take some time, today worked out in the end.

She formed closer bonds with Soarin and Shining Armor.

Stormy Flare had a great time as well, her smile infectious.

And all of it was thanks to Spitfire. While her journey was far from over, she eagerly anticipated what the future would hold for her.