Hollywood Gold

The filly peeps through the small square of glass that serves as a little window on the wooden door to Marigold's first class. This year, she will have four classes. This four-class schedule will proceed until sixth grade, where she will then be introduced to a seven-class agenda. Knowing this from ponies who discussed it, she hates it even more because she knows her classes are longer than middle-school hours due to the four-class schedule.

Marigold tries the door with a hoof, pressing down on the handle. This is to no avail, for the door is locked. Blushing with embarrassment, for she is a whole forty or so minutes late, she is force to knock on the wood, which creates an interrupting sound. Seconds later, a grown stallion opens the door with a strange expression, obviously not enthused. This was Mister Arithmus.

"Ah. I see you've a tardy slip, Miss..."

The gray-bodied filly handed him the slip, which the teacher then scans over.

"...Marigold Valley," he finishes his previous sentence. "So, you've decided to join us! How gracious of you."
"I'm sorry, sir..." Marigold says quietly. "I've been in quite a haste all morning. It's been very troubling to get here... I hope you understand, sir."

"Oh no!" Exclaims the professor sarcastically, leading the filly into the room. The class, hearing all of this, breaks into mutters and snickers.

"Quiet, class!" Mr. Arithmus orders. "Marigold here has been through hectic times to get here! Why, she has no time to fuss over schedules and tardiness. So, therefore, she should not be ridiculed for this very minor mistake! To your seat, Miss Marigold! We are warming up with some simple equations. Paper and pencil would be advised."

"Sir," Marigold says, pride shot at this point. "I haven't got supplies."

"Terribly sorry. There's a seat in the back for you, and maybe you could manage to scrape by and borrow supplies?" The teacher replies, with no care implied whatsoever.

Marigold hurries to her seat, quickly dashing between an aisle between desks. But she is tripped for the second time today, this time by a pale blue hoof. She winces and yells in pain, for the hoof struck is the bandaged one with lacerations from the broken whiskey bottle earlier.

Laughs ring out, exploding in Marigold's ears. Tears well in her eyes, and she wipes them away.

"I said," Mr. Arithmus sighs, "To your seat."

"Y- Yes sir..." Marigold submits. She trots sullenly and plants her bottom in the very back row.

The young filly looks to her left, where a peach-colored colt scribbles down answers to equations on his parchment.

"Excuse me..." Marigold whispers. "But may I borrow a pencil, please?"

"Haven't you got your own?" The colt sneers.

"No... My father is sending me to the market this evening to get some... I've reminded him, but he hasn't done it yet."

"Whatever," he snorts. "Just take a pencil and leave me alone. No surprise you've forgotten supplies... You trip over your own hooves!"

"Hey!" Marigold protests. "That blue filly over there tripped me! It wasn't my fault!"

"Miss Marigold Valley!" The teacher raises his voice, and more giggles erupt from the class. "For the second- or was it third- time today, you have interrupted my mathematics session. Do you need to see Principal Weeks, or can you shut your muzzle and participate in class activities?!"

"Sorry sir!" Marigold pipes. She lets out an irritated sigh when the orange colt sitting next to her jabs her with a pencil.

"You needed one, didn't you?" He snickers, tossing the pencil at her shoulder.

"Th- Thank you, I think?" Marigold groans and retrieves the pencil.

"Oh, you're very welcome!" The colt replies with sarcasm.

As soon as Marigold finishes one side of the assignment, turning it over, the bell rings for next period. She hands her paper to the teacher, who looks it over.

"Only one side's finished," Mr. Arithmus remarks.

"Yes, I didn't have time to complete it, sir."

"Then take it home for homework. Everyone else has finished, because they were on time. Have fun with that paper, sweetheart." He smiles, shaking his head.

"Ugh. Okay, sir." Marigold replies grumpily, heading out the door.

"And dial down the attitude, while you're at it, Marigold!" Mr. Arithmus calls out. This gains another round of laughter.

"What a dummy!"

"Is she normally that idiotic?"

"Can't she even try to be normal?!"

"What a giant joke!"

Hearing these remarks, Marigold wipes her tears with a hoof. Clutching the homework in her muzzle, she makes it to second hour with streaks on her stone-gray cheeks. Walking into room 107, she nods to others.

"Um... Hello?" A male teacher looks down at the filly. "What do you need, ma'am? I'm in the middle of teaching a lesson here..."

"Oh! This is room 107..." Marigold sighs, looking at the panel that shows the room number, blushing vibrantly. "I was supposed to go to room 108... Please excuse my mistake!"

"No problem, honey. First days can be rough!"

Under her breath, Marigold mutters: "Tell me about it..."

With that, Marigold exits the room and goes next door, where she barely makes it on time for second period.