Catcher in the Clouds

Chapter 2: Where Being Bad Is Actually Bad
“Sometimes, you live in a fantasy where life actually cares about you.”

So there I was, in the Lazarus house, surrounded by sick, hurt, and otherwise needy and whiny ponies. There were a few beggars in remote corners swaddled in blankets and the like, and I’m sure I saw some ponies who clearly weren’t sick begging for ice cream, but other than that, it seemed like a madhouse. Ever since that “mad pony disease” hoax was in the papers, everypony started to suddenly “contract” it. It was about the five billionth dumb thing I’d ever heard, and it was already capping the list of dumb things.

I didn’t like running away from Nurse Redheart. She was a nice gal, really she was, but she was also that pushy type of gal who enjoyed getting into your deepest secrets, and since you were on some truth-telling serum they gave you, you felt really obligated as a tired and drugged pony to tell her everything. I know it sounds really rude of her, but it’s not.

Though I’m also pretty sure it’s illegal.

Plus, she couldn’t be all that bad if a hospital in Canterlot cared to hire her. She was probably living large in bits while these beggars around scraped by on one or two bits a day, enough for what? A tomato?

I even remember this one time, during a checkup as a young filly, she told me this ghost story about the hospital. Any old pony could tell that Nurse Redheart loved telling the story to little fillies and colts. It went something along the lines of a young filly getting lost inside of the walls, never to be found again. I got so scared, I was positive I heard groaning coming from in the walls behind me, and the worst part was that there was this picture of Celestia that hung right above this particular bed. It wasn’t anything creepy, it was more noble, but it had two glaring eyes that seemed to follow you across the room, which made the story all more realistic to me.

The lights were dim in the lobby room full of ponies, so I decided to get out of there. It was a really bummer place, truly, somewhere I only went when my parents insisted, but I didn’t think I’d ever want to go back there. It was like somepony had cast a faulty sleep spell in there, and everypony had turned to zombies, and Celestia knows I hate those things.

So I trotted out into a bright sunlight, and the street was no better. It was like you had just stepped onto the set of a play, though I rarely ever saw any myself. I had never found enjoyment in plays like other ponies had, it was just an illogical thing for me. I mean, why would anypony spend hours learning a million lines to a play only to perform it once or twice? It’s not like that pony is getting paid much, and I don’t think half the ponies who act out there are very happy about doing their job, so why do they do it?

I had been trying to take in my surroundings when I heard a familiar voice. “Hey there, champ!” It called to me. “I heard about the game. But hey, you’ll get those Crusaders next year!”

So there he was, about three yards in front of me. Even though ponies kept commuting across the street, his rainbow-colored mane was just too easy to spot. Rainbow Blitz. My dad. He was a pretty cool person, but get him angry, and you could see the red in his main dominate all of the other colors, along with orange, creating an almost fiery effect. Putting aside his easy anger, he knew how to keep a filly entertained, and he made an amazing dad. I don’t think I would ever have found my cutie mark if not for him.

But what was that he said? We’ll get the Crusaders next year? So we had lost today. Great, just another thing I need to deal with. Going to collect my stuff back at the school and arriving to endless ridicule about abandoning my team and throwing the race for bits or something. I’d probably sock a filly in the snoot if I got pressured enough. They would be asking for it.

And snoot, just a word I picked up as a filly and never put down. It means nose, snout, whatever the Tartarus you want to call it.

It was kind of a scary feeling, seeing your dad coming up to you after you’ve just lost a race, one you could’ve easily won if you actually cared to try. But trying to win every race is just a fantasy. And sometimes, you live in a fantasy where the world actually cares about you. I have this firm belief that we guide our own destinies, and that life is just a jerk bent on sending you into the ground after enough crashes.

So I answered him in the most dull voice I could come up with, maybe to get him to go away. I couldn't explain it -- I just didn't feel like seeing him right now. Had he already heard about my ‘graduation?’ More importantly, did he even care that I wasn't taking that extra year? “Hey dad.”

“I know, Dash, I know, I lost, the world is ending…” he continued to speak. But as he droned on and gave his little speech about depression, I found myself more and more distracted. I guess he hadn’t seen my school report after all, but he sure thought I hated to lose. And he would’ve been right -- I do hate losing, more than anything in the world, but for once, I didn’t feel affected. Had it been the hay I ate that morning? The new socks I tried on? Maybe I just got fed up helping others with their problems, but it didn’t matter, as long as I wasn’t in trouble.

“And tomorrow your teacher, Ms. Primrose, says she wants to discuss your school reports! How lucky are me and your mom, we get to hear how great you are up front!” He seemed so excited to say it, too. My stomach churned. So this was all going down tomorrow.

My dad had graduated at the top of his class, with three extra years, whereas I wasn’t even taking one. I knew he’d be furious, disappointed even, and then he’d tell my mom, who’d tell all of her friends, and soon I’d be the laughing stock of Cloudsdale, and see, I just couldn’t allow that.

“So dad, are you sure you have to go?”

“Well of course I have to go, Dash, why wouldn’t I?”

“Maybe we could … go somewhere, all of us? To celebrate a good season?” Now that was something I could get behind. Maybe I couldn’t stop the reports from coming out, but I could at least prolong the punishment. “At least, after I grab all of my stuff from school.”

“Well,” he remarked to himself. “Perhaps we can go after the meeting. I hear there’s this great pastry shop down in Ponyville, if you-”

“No dad, we would need to leave tonight!” I stomped my hoof down lightly, just enough to show that I was adamant about this. He seemed a bit shocked at my interruption, but smiled and rubbed his hoof on my mane. I hated when ponies did that, it ruined everything I had worked for that morning.

“Sorry champ, no can do, but Primrose did say she wanted to speak with you today, so it must be important. Now hey, I gotta dash,” he paused after that. He grinned, chuckling lightly under his breath like he did every time he cracked a pun. “Heh, there I go again. Your mother expects me over at Canterlot Castle to speak with Twilight Velvet really quickly. Something about a get-together with you and her daughter? Doesn’t matter, gotta fly!” And with that he zoomed off into the air, towards the castle.

Ms. Primrose wanted to speak with me, probably about how amazing I was doing. Yeah right -- she was a real pain in the plot sometimes. I remember I once coughed in class and got an essay on how wings worked and functioned when conditions outside became extreme. It only infuriated her more when I didn’t do it, but rather wrote on the page “That’s for nerds.” I couldn’t let my reputation slip is all I was thinking at the time.

At times when I needed to meet with her, I realize that I probably should have been doing all of the assigned work over being a smart-plot about it all.

I figured I had nothing else to do before going back to my little home away from home at flight school, so I might as well head down to the managing offices for flight school executives. It wasn’t too far of a flight, but I decided to walk. It would give Ms. Primrose less time to yell at me, at the least. It didn’t matter how well or how unwell I was doing in flight school, she always seemed to find my faults with ease. “Oh, your suit isn’t aerodynamic enough, your wings are too short, your cutie mark’s colors are off by one hue.” There was an insult for everything, and Ms. Primrose was harsh.

October had finally settled in to stay, and it was nearing Nightmare Night, which meant it was also getting colder. Eventually those weather ponies would kick it in high gear with the snow and bury us all. I found myself shivering with the October chill, cursing at the fact that I didn’t think to bring an extra scarf from the house, even after numerous warnings from my mom that it would be like this.

The streets seemed to bare at the hint of rain and snow, though. All of the common fruit vendors and chatty ponies cleared the streets when the first raindrop hit and the sky darkened. All of the windows were shut and the sound was almost blissful.

If I could, I would avoid everypony. Ponies just got in my way most of the time, and tried to distract me from the one thing I needed to do: win. Of course, I guess I would need other ponies to race against too, but not my parents either. They were there while I was a filly, I didn’t much need them anymore.

It had started to drizzle, which wasn’t too bad for me after having been stuffed in a crummy hospital room for as long as I had been, though I wasn’t counting time. It might as well have been five minutes. Still, it felt nice to have the little droplets running through my mane, right to my fur.

So I kept on walking, moving into a nice trot to keep up with the slowly-increasing amount of water coming from the sky. Eventually it got to the point that I could barely see through it, but luckily I was close enough to the school that I knew exactly where I was, and in a couple of minutes I found myself at the familiar glass doors.

Standing outside in the rain, it felt like my first day at flight school. I remember being dropped off with some lunch in a bag -- today, I couldn’t remember for the life of me what it was, probably a daffodil sandwich and some apple juice or something. It was a bit scary, I’ll admit, knowing that my first judgment would happen as soon as I went inside, completely soaked from just standing there with a clueless look on my face. And that was true -- as soon as I went inside, Ms. Primrose was there, clearly waiting for me. She told me I didn’t have what it took to be a good flyer, because I couldn’t even arrive on time, when it obviously wasn’t my fault that I didn’t wake up early enough. So my registration went rather slowly as a result.

And I was back there again, about to get a speech by the very same pony about how lazy and disloyal I was, and how I didn’t deserve to be a graduate, much less a Wonderbolt, though she knew full well that it was my lifelong dream.

I sighed before stepping inside, and I have to admit it was a little bit warmer, but I could still feel the cold aura that Ms. Primrose gave off. Even if she was in her office you could feel her watching you through the walls. I gave a weak trot to the front desk, leaning up to look over the high desk to find the receptionist pony. She didn’t seem to be in -- perhaps she was on one of those infamous ‘coffee breaks’ with her coltfriend.

So rather than just walk in without checking in at the front desk, I decided to take a seat in what was deemed the ‘waiting area,’ but it was really just a couple of chairs around the front door, which was absolutely freezing. And they didn’t have any papers to read, which made it all the worst.

You see, I’m an avid reader, though I’d never tell anypony. I’ve dealt with eggheads around Canterlot, and they’re not treated necessarily ‘well.’ Rather, they’re put into groups of ponies who I didn’t think were all that cool, so I never revealed my secret pleasure to anypony, not even my mother, who would blow it way out of proportion.

I sat there for what seemed like a good five days until finally, I heard that chilling voice, the one that’s haunted my flight school dreams since day one. “Rainbow Dash, are you here yet? Celestia, can that pony do anything right?”

“Y-yes, Ms. Primrose!” I stuttered. I rushed into the room adjoining the front desk to the left and froze when I saw her staring down at me, right into my eyes, the windows to my soul.

“Ms. Dash, hello.” She was so condescending, as if I’d already screwed up by not breaking rules and waiting for her.

“Ms. Primrose.”

“Do you have any idea why I’ve called you in today?” Honestly, I couldn’t tell her, because I really didn’t know. I’m sure it was about this being my last year and all. So instead of answering her or shaking my head to indicate a ‘no’ or anything like that, I stayed silent. She didn’t seem to like that.

“I asked you a question, Ms. Crash.” Oh great, now she was using my nickname from filly flight camp. “But whatever, I doubt you care that much anyway. I’m here about your grade reports and, more importantly, your latest assignment, not to mention that race.”

Now that got my attention. The words ‘grade report’ grabbed most of my lost mind. “What about all that stuff you just said?” I managed to murmur. Celestia, I was really lost.

The entire time she was trying to speak with me, I kept my focus on one thing: the poster in her corner, the cat one that said ‘keep hanging on.’ I had to think about it, I really did. I mean, what point would there be in hanging onto a branch when it’s obvious you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere? And if you’re a cat, why would you even have the thought to continue hanging, especially at the risk of damaging your claws forever. Can’t cats land on all four legs?

When I finally decided that the poster was probably worthless and only for the gullible people, I came back into the conversation, right about the time when she mentioned my parents. “ … so tomorrow I’m having a meeting with your parents to discuss your future, Ms. Crash.”

At first I tried bargaining, until I realized that wouldn’t work either. She seemed unmoved by my efforts. “Do you really have to-”

“Yes.” There was a pause in the air. “Rainbow, I just don’t think you understand the entire ‘school’ concept. Look at your last assignment, for Celestia’s sake!”

She shoved a paper towards me, and I could immediately recognize it. It was some dumb thing that we had to write describing how the wind speed and form of a pony could affect a pony’s speed and, consequently, keep them from crashing while flying. Somewhere in my mind, I really did want to do it, but all that was on the paper was a crudely-drawn picture of me as a Wonderbolt -- it seemed to be the only thing on my mind these days. It seemed pretty ignorant, but like I’ve said, at least I knew how to fly, and wasn’t that all it took to become the best? So yeah, I was still ignoring her. She wasn’t just angry, either. It was some mix of sadness and aggression that made her the way she was. Apparently her husband had died in war, and ever since, her eyes were white walls being painted white.

“ … and so my point is, you can’t become a famous flyer, Rainbow Dash, if you never try. So I’ll give you one more chance. I just want you to write a paper on speed. How is speed created and maximized? If you can have that to me by tomorrow, I will let you off the hook.”

I started to get up, ready to go, when she stopped me. Of course she had to stop me, because everypony had to stop me. One time this pony, Clear Skies, stopped me in the middle of the air because I apparently needed a permit to fly any higher than three hundred feet above Cloudsdale. Turns out that he was right, though what he was doing so high I wasn’t sure of myself, and so I had to go and get this dumb thing signed, and they wouldn’t even sign it because I’m just a teen pony, which seems kind of dumb when you think about it. But it was this whole ordeal that I don’t want to go in depth with.

“And Ms. Dash, I can fail you, do not forget that. Do remember, you may be fast, but you are definitely not wise.”

I couldn’t take any more, so I stormed out. I had enough smarts, and I knew that I did. Application isn’t always everything, I think. And how could she fail me when I was a top flight student? It’s called flight school because you fly, not because you need good scores on tests. Sure, my grades sucked, but it shouldn’t matter if I accomplish the main goal of flight school.

By the time I got outside, it seemed the storm had subsided, which was surprising, given the entire sky was gray when I went in only an hour ago. At least Celestia was still watching over me. The ponies started to revert back to their spots on the street, and before I could get ten feet from the door, everypony had already flooded the streets in an attempt to go back to how things were. Fruit carts opened up once more, business ponies attended to their normal business on the streets, and I was stuck confused by Life. Was this my big break? Because I sure as Tartarus was not going to write that paper, and I’m sure Ms. Primrose knew that, too.

But if not that, then what in the world was I going to do?