Pro at Cons: Schoolfed

“Hello, class!” - Moon waved at his students cheerfully, entering the study. - “How're you guys doing today?”

The class buzzed, proving that they were doing good, and, ever since Moon took his favourite spot, sitting on the edge of his desk in front of the class, a number of hands dashed upwards.

“I believe some of you have questions?” - Moon creased a brow. - “Ladies first, I presume – Rainbow?”

“Mister Moon, sir!” - the tomboyish athlete stood up with her hands to her waist. - “There was an announcement from Vice Principle Luna that there's going to be a big gig; something about, I dunno, concerts and stuff. So, as you're our Music teacher, you were supposed to tell us about that, huh?” - she glared at the man, sticking her chin forwards stubbornly; he, in turn, raised both hands in a dismissive gesture:

“Point taken, Dash; I apologize for slacking. I just hadn't been here yesterday to make heads or tails of that announcement you're talking about. Anyhow, I presume, you're about to apply for a participating?”

“YEAH!!” - roared Snowflake, flaring his nostrils, the T-shirt almost ripping to shreds on the overpumped pecs of the guy:

“SO?! YOU'RE GOING TO HELP US OR WHAT?!”

“I just happen to have an idea here...” - squinted Moon Shine, smiling coyly, running through his notes on the class. - “Say, people – would you work together for something big?”

“Like what?” - Flash Senry craned his neck.

“Like a grand orchestral show stopper.” - Moon grinned deviously. - “We'll do a bit of classical stuff, for starters...”

“Pffft, classics... I expected something cooler. Like, maybe, twenty percent cooler. Give or take.” - blurted Rainbow Dash.

“Just wait till I get to the best part...” - Moon's train of thought was rushing full throttle. - “Say, we take some classics and add a little bit of nice modern touch to it. Like, say, Danse Macabre rearranged for guitars, violin and synthesizer?..” - grinning victoriously, the man thrown one leg over another. - “And then, say, Swan Pond for flute, vocals and drums? Everyone of you would have a chance to shine. And for the big finish, I suppose to have the Morbid Tango, arranged for the orchestra of you. You, guys, are going to freaking bust the place, rocking the audience straight out of their socks!”

The agitation was obvious: students were discussing stuff with each other, the most audible voice was, of course, Pinkie's – and Rarity was desperately trying to reason her; and, out of the blue, Fluttershy's slender hand rose to the ceiling:

“Uhm, mister Moon, sir?”

“Yes, Fluttershy?”

“Um... you were saying... an orchestra... but... what about the individual bands? I mean, Flash Sentry has his own band, and Trixie does, and Rainbow's in charge of the Rainbooms... Is it okay to blend it all together in a single piece?..” - obviously startled with her own boldness, Fluttershy squealed and retreated behind her curtain-like hair.

“You have a point there, Fluttershy...” - nodded the man, immersed in thoughts; however, as soon as an idea struck him, he snapped his fingers:

“Class, listen up. I am aware that the concert is due in four weeks, so we don't have much time, but – first of: Fluttershy's right. Every single one of you, who wishes to participate, should prepare his own unique performance – just use whatever in your repertoire you feel like doing, but I really expect you to participate in whatever crazy endeavor I've planned. I still believe an orchestra would do just damn great. I'll take care of the notes for every one of you who'd volunteer, and arrange the rehearsals. And for those, who's still weighing things, I'd say that it's not just a good fun, but it's also worth an extra credit and an automatic “A-plus” at a year. You have my word. Now...” - Moon checked his wristwatch. - “We still have five minutes till the end of the lesson, so, should anyone wish to apply for an orchestra – be my guests...” - as soon as he sat at the desk, flipping the notebook open, a fuzzy pink mass was already bouncing in front of him, overjoyed:

“Rainbooms, all of them! Sunset Shimmer included!” - squealed Pinkie.

“Now, Pinkie, dear, I don't know if Sunset would consent to this...” - Rarity wondered, signing herself in as well under the bubbly Pinkie's handwriting.

“Shucks, Rarity – 'course she would! If Ah know anything of this there gurl, she'd never miss out on a friend, sugercube; just tell her that, I say!” - setting her Stetson to the side in a bold manner, Applejack put herself on the list.

“Uhm...” - Fluttershy scanned the table for a pen, finding none: Moon reached out and curtly offered the timid girl his own; she accepted it and put her name on the list as well.

“We're gonna make it awesome.” - grinned Rainbow Dash, nodding as she drew a small cloud with a three-striped lighting bolt next to her name. - “We're gonna rock some socks, I'm telling you.”

“Do me proud, girls.” - smirked Moon Shine.

“Hey, by the time we're done there – there won't be room for more!”

“Do it, then! Next, please!”...

“knock-knock-knock” - “Come in!” - Moon opened the door and entered the dimmed office of Vice Principal Luna: in contrast to Principle Celestia's, the blinds on the windows were lowered as much as to offer a little sunlight filter inside and dissipate in the dark blue painted interior; the whole thing made Moon recall the old and worn noir movies thing, and he chuckled to himself:

“Wow, ma'am – your office sure is a sight for sore eyes. - catching Luna's amazed gaze, he explained himself: “I mean, it's so dim, so quiet... Really brings eyes to rest.”

“Why yes, I prefer it that way; I can concentrate better in the peace and quiet.” - smiled the lady, straightening out her crescent moon cameo. - “Please, take a seat, mister Moon. We have something to discuss...”

“With all due respect, ma'am, I'm already fully aware of the incoming concert...” - Moon retorted. - “...and I've already assigned the student volunteers their respective parts.”

“Volunteers, you say?” - smiled Luna. - “And exactly how many of them there is?..”

“A lot.” - grinned the man, producing a list of volunteers. - “Here you may see it.”

“A whole class?” - Vice Principle opened her mouth. - “Wow. And what exactly do you have in mind for them?..”

“Well, I'd hate to be a spoilsport for you, ma'am, but... The respective bands and individual performers would first perform their unique parts, and then I'm thinking of building up a compound orchestra.”

“That's ambitious. Should we run a casting?”

“I don't see the necessity in that, ma'am; the students are quite eager to participate, and the first rehearsal is already tomorrow after hours. Would you like to see it?”

“Why, I...” - somehow vice principle lady blushed slightly, but quickly regained the facade. - “I'd absolutely love it, but, I fear, I have other business to attend to. Instead, I would ask you to inform me of all your needs immediately, should those appear.”

“Well, thank you much, ma'am; for the time being, the only thing we appear to need is a place to rehearse...”

“Just ask the Rainbooms – they'll inform you with the place. Or you can take gym after hours.”

“Most wondrous. Now, another thing is... Well, ma'am – we kind of need a cellist. No one does play cello in class – none that I know of, and we pretty much need the cello to be there. It'll strengthen the backbone of the whole melody.”

“Well... We might have one lady here...” - Luna grinned deviously. - “The name Octavia Philharmonica – rings a bell?”

“Octavia is a student of CHS?!” - Moon's jaw submitted to gravity, rushing towards the floor. - “I mean, really?”

“Yes, she is; she's on the individual research program, prepairing for her casting for the Canterlot State Orchestra. She's... a bit snobby, but good at heart and, if you can motivate yourself to her, very cooperative. And yes, I believe you need a sound engineer and a DJ? Vinyl Scratch can provide the best experience, and she comes together with Octavia, so, here's a piece of advice: get to Vinyl Scratch and get her for your project – and you get Octavia... free of charge.” - Luna's vague, all-knowing grin grew wilder, as she winked at Moon.

He sit there for a split second, digesting the information.

“Why, that's a huge headstart, ma'am. Thank you, thank you so much...” - he muttered, beaming Luna his most sincere smile. - “May I say I expect both of you ladies on some of our rehearsal someday?”

“I'll inform my sister of your invitation, mister Shine.” - vice principle curtly nodded. - “And we'll see if we can afford the attendance. I'm sure it would be a lovely experience.”

“Thank you again, ma'am...” - Moon rised from the chair, giving Luna a small salute. - “I should get going, I believe. We won't let you down.”

“I believe so.” - the blue haired lady replied calmly, as the door closed and she went back to her business; at this particular time, she was calling the Crystal Prep Academy, trying to get Dean Cadence to their side.

Already late in the evening Moon Shine finally stood up from his laptop, a small printer spitting out hot sheets of paper, filled with notes and tabs; he looked them through, arranged each musical score respectively for the instrument it was meant to be played, and filed every other stack separately, putting down the name of the student and an instrument; the solo parties were clipped together separately. All in all, it was a big work well done, and Moon thought it good to reward himself with a cup of nice hot coffee.

Putting a coffee pot on the stove, he lingered for a moment at the enveloping sense of job well done: the scores are to be dispensed tomorrow, support achieved from the authorities, instruments checked and ready to rock...

And still, one buzzing, nagging thought kept stirring in the backyard of the mind: what in the actual heck was the A.B. initials for.

“Meh, to hell with that...” - muttered Shine, adding some spices to his coffee; the brew bubbled, prepairing to boil, and he removed it from fire, patting the bottom of a pot rhythmically; after a few seconds, he put the pot back on fire and waited for coffee to boil.

The doorbell rang out, right in the middle of outrageously slow and ginger pouring the brew through the sieve.

“Stupid lousy nogood...” - swore the man, spilling a bit of his precious brew. - “Coming!”

Cheerilee was at the threshold, looking obviously disgruntled:

“Hey you!” - Moon had to spring on his most sincerely-happy smile, giving the lady a peck on the cheek. - “What's rollin'?”

“Don't ask.” - she blurted, kicking off her shoes. - “Is that coffee I smell?”

“Yup, coffee a la chef. And I bet bottom bit you're hungry.”

“Like a hunter...” - grunted Cheerilee, struggling her way from the jacket; the bag strap got caught in the sleeve, blocking any efforts to break free. - “fuq...”

“Hey. Calm down. Lemme help ye with that...” - gingerly setting Cheerilee's arm free, Moon crouched near the disgruntled lady and looked her in the eyes. - “What's wrong, Cheers?”

“My name's Cheerilee! Is that so hard to remember?!” - she growled out, eyes welling with angry tears. - “What're you looking at?! Or you think that if I'm here, cause my frikkin' house is scorch-cooked from the inside, you can call me names and do whatever you please?! Big fuqing mistake, mister!!”

Moon was slightly abashed with the demeanor of usually amicable lady; however, some indirect hints allowed him to deduce the root of all evils quickly.

“Insurance's bitching?” - he inquired quietly, reaching for Cheerilee's hand; she nodded angrily, swallowing her silent tears; she shuddered at the touch, but did not retract the hand.

“And a hard day at work, right?..” - another nod.

“And to top all that – it's a period. Right?”

“Are you what, a freaking spy or something?..” - she gnarled, halfheartedly, though, as the amazement took the best of her. - “How?..”

Moon pointed at her bag, that she had angrily tossed aside: it flew open, revealing a formal-looking paper with a stamp 'DECLINED' across it, a pack of hygienic packets and a whole flurry of notebooks. - “It ain't rocket science, ma'am. And I'm just a perceptive type. This happens.”

She nodded silently, seemingly seething with anger; however, in a matter of seconds, her both hands now being caressed gingerly with Moon's thumbs, the angry grimace broke, flowing into a scowl, and the lady burst into tears, digging her face deep into the man's shoulder.

“Smooth moves, Sherlock; now she'll shy away from ya, thinking that you'll consider her a hysterical bitch...” - snided voice in Moon's head, that he pretty much snidingly dubbed as 'me conscience”. The situation was not awkward, at least, nothing he hadn't faced before; a lady, crying her eyes out on his shoulder.

“There, there, Cheerilee...” - he patted her back ever so slightly, 'consciousness' gnawing at him again for picking that awkward male gesture, that could express whatever – from concern to encouragement. - “It's okay. You've been through a ton of crap today...”

“Now you see why I'm still living all alone, drinking myself to sleep once every month?..” - she bolted upward, the angry grimace present again on her tear-stroken face. - “You see?! No man wishes to share his time with a hysterical bitch like... like... like this. It's just there, and I can't seem to fight it! I've tried, I did – therapists, ladies' doctors, took a shit ton of drugs – and it's still there! So, face it – I'm a mentally unstable, retarded, estrogen-crazy bitch! So, like what you see?!” - she almost clawed into the man's shoulders, pulling him closer until their faces almost met. - “Like it?!”

“Yes, I do.” - deadpanned Moon Shine, regaining control over the situation, as he gently put his hands around Cheerilee's waist. - “Yes, I do like what I see. And whatever you're saying, I am not to consider of you any less than I do now. And what I see is a lady of beauty and smarts, so suck it up.” - he allowed himself to grin smugly, and that grin seemed to be the last straw; Cheerilee sat awestruck, her eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging half-open.

When she finally mustered enough in herself to speak, she just shook her head and whispered: “You're fuqin' sick...”

“That I've heard.” - grinned Moon, standing up and helping the lady up. - “Okay, now, I guess you'd want to change; since you're at that, I'll whip up something for you to eat and make you a nice hot bath; after it, you're getting some herbal tea and a foot massage. And then – off to sleep. Sounds good?”

“You're a fuqing sick bastard...” - she replied, shaking her head reluctantly. - “What have I ever done to meet you, huh?..”

“Guess you were born in the first place.” - Moon grinned and booped Cheerilee's nose slightly. - “Now, go. It feels awkward to linger in the hall when the whole apartment is at our service.”

“I frikkin' hate you, Moon...” - huffed Cheerilee, spanking him weighty on the butt as she walked past.

“Love you too, Cheerilee!” - he laughed back.

“Buzz off...” - the voice came from the bedroom. - “And if I'll catch you sneaking a peek, I'll bring up the paddle just for you!”

Moon just retreated quickly deeper into the kitchen section, abandoning a perfect vantage point. The threat sounded substantial enough.

“Oof... that's a fill...” - Cheerilee breathed out gratefully, picking her plate up; Moon, however, interfered, taking the utensils to the dishwasher and putting a cup of fresh coffee in front of the lady.

“Milk, or, maybe, cream?..”

“Milk. A bit, just a taint...” - she replied, looking away; a deep blush spread across her.

“Moon?”

“Huh?” - he turned away from the cupboard, rearranging the cups. - “What's that?”

“Gimme a cigarette, please...” - she silently inquired, still looking away.

“Sure...” - the cigarette and a lighter appeared in a man's hand. - “In fact, I'd smoke as well. Shall we?..”

“Let's go already...” - still avoiding his gaze, Cheerilee brisquely escaped the room and headed for the patio; Moon followed her right after.

“The evenings are still cold, and you've got nothing to cover but t-shirt... Here.” - the man wrapped a jacket around Cheerilee's shoulders, lighting a cigarette and handing it to her.

She accepted it absently, taking a deep pull; he followed suit.

Constellations blinked above, weaving a complex ornament on the blue-black canvas of a late evening sky.

“What're you getting at, Moon?” - the lady asked quietly, pulling the flaps of jacket closer together on her chest. - “What's the master plan? To have some fun, is all?”

“What makes you think that?” - creasing a scarred brow, the man inquired, blowing a stream of smoke down his torso. - “Wait, I see the problem.”

A nod was his reward; with a sigh, he turned to face her, asking bluntly:

“Cheerilee, how old are you?”

“Does it even matter?” - she snarled, dragging deep; releasing a cloud of smoke, she, however, sighed and replied: “I'm twenty-eight.”

“And I'm thirty-six. Can you tell?” - by the Cheerilee's amazed look, she couldn't tell. - “See, I've had a lot of... fun...” - Moon made air quotation signs. - “...in me life. So the master plan, as you put it, is to, well... get stable for once. Stop rocking sideways, gain some centerpoint. And maybe – just maybe, if I was born under the lucky star – have a lady to love and cherish and to share the good and the bad with. Is that devious enough?” - Moon's shoulders sank a bit, and he didn't even felt a single cog twitch in the Lies Machine.

“Wow, huge progress, man – telling the truth for once, eh? Now see if she would buy it...” - snided the 'conscience'.

Cheerilee just stood there, oblivious to the cigarette slowly simmering down to the filter; a fragile stock of ashes balanced a risky attempt on the tip of its glowing embers; Moon also stood stock still, gazing square at the lady.

The silence lingered for a good minute, until Cheerilee sobbed quietly, her shoulders heaving, and embraced the man tightly.

“We'll get over it. Eventually...” - stroking the lady's silky hair, Moon whispered into her ear, oblivious to the insidious whisper of the 'conscience'.

“You better not give the promises you ain't planning on keeping, boy...”

Later, when Cheerilee got out of bath and reclined the offer of a massage, was already snuggly laying under the warm blanket with a warmer on her stomach, Moon fiddled with the wall lights, turning them sideways to prevent the light hitting the eyes of the laying lady.

“Here...” - he smiled, reaching for the Grey Cardinal. - “That's one little thing I prize quite much. Your Excellence, this is Lady Cheerilee. Lady Cheerilee, His Excellence, the Grey Cardinal.”

“That's just sweet...” - Cheerilee struggled to suppress a smile – and failed miserably, accepting the tiny – palm-high in size – plushie fowl. - “He looks worn and torn, but it just adds to the charm.”

“Yes, we've gotten through a lot together...” - shrugged the man, grinning sheepishly. - “I guess, he's kind of a talisman of sorts. But one thing I can tell for sure – His Excellence is a great listener. Always keeps a secret. Always.”

“I can tell...” - smiled the teacher lady, hugging the owl close to her. - “Thank you, Moon. For everything. And...” - she sighed, tears welling up in her eyes again. - “... I apologize for my preposterous attitude towards you. I got a little carried away...”

“Don't mind it.” - taking a seat on the bed, Moon smiled, caressing Cheerilee's cheek, basking in the glow of her magnificent eyes. - “Just rest. The day was long and taxing, and the day tomorrow would be better. You'll see.”

“Thank you.” - she sobbed quietly, smiling like there was no tomorrow.

“G'night. I'll be in the living room, on the couch.” - Moon winked at the lady, flicking the light off and closing the door to allow some privacy.

“Moon?..” - the man poked his head back into the room. - “Don't... well, don't leave me alone. Please.”

“Whatever you wish, ma'am.”