Chapter 1: Stuck in the Infirmary
“Who even cares about school when you’re fast?”
I wouldn’t exactly say this is my story. This could be whatever story my mind has fabricated, because it sure as Tartarus could be just as boring as any pony’s week could be. But I’m sure if you were that interested in hearing it, then you’re also interested in my parents, my race, how I made friends on the first day of flight school -- okay, so I guess you know my race, big whoop -- and all of that random filly crap that every person needs to ask when questioning me for their ‘friendship.’ That’s right, research. Honestly, I’d rather not even discuss that stuff, or tell you about my little life away from all that in books and actual work. Secondly, if I give away too much of my own information, I’m sure Blitz, my dad, would have his sprinkles all in a wrinkle, especially if I mentioned them. They’re not exactly trustworthy of the people I like to chill with, especially since I’m deemed the ‘fastest flyer in Equestria,’ and lots of ponies would just love to see me up close, as my parents say. It’s not that they’re protectiveor anything -- I would never accuse them of such a thing. It’s just that they don’t like me leaving the house but for silly competition and school. Last time I tried making any ‘friends,’ I went way out of my path to impress some filly, that crazy one that can’t even fly, and I ended up crashing into a few pillars, big deal. Ever since, with all the nicknames, my parents have been itching to keep me around for as long as possible.
Still, I wouldn’t want to tell you every moment of my life, from the excruciating details of my birth -- I’m told I was a heavy filly for the storks, but c’mon. Storks aren’t real, it’s common knowledge -- to my first day of flight school. I guess I could tell you that crazy little thing that happened last winter season, around Hearth’s Warming Eve, when I totally went through the clouds and defied my parents, because I was feeling pretty downcast that time around. That’s really all I’ve told anypony about, especially that weird doctor I go into for my checkups, Redheart. She’s from this town, Canterlot, and she’s this big pony there, also my most trusted confidant. The only thing odd about her is that she’s always going into the closet to find things, and I hear this weird noise, but I’ve never wanted to check. I was at least raised to respect privacy, even for ponies stretching to the top shelves to get things -- at least, that’s what I assumed was happening back then. I’m much more clever now. I still have to visit her nearly every other week for regular health checkups, because my parents insist on me being in top condition for flying. She promised me a tour of Canterlot once, but I’ve been waiting at least a year for that now, and I know for sure she isn’t going to get that done.
From what I can tell, she used to be some small doctor who worked with a zebra -- can you believe it? -- in a forest, but ever since she healed some little colt that scraped his knee with the resources around her, she’s been the talk of Equestria. Ponies everywhere came for her, and eventually she was confined to Canterlot. I won’t say she’s bad at it. In fact, she’s the best nurse around, but she shouldn’t be putting herself in such a big position for bits, it’s almost pointless. So now she’s being some bit beggar in Canterlot, but I still like seeing her sometimes. She gives me candy, at least -- honey candy.
So, moving on, my story actually starts in Canterlot after one particular race where I got injured and had spent the remainder of the big race for Celestia in the Lazarus Barracks. The Barracks was a group of conjoined rooms where they kept all these weird bags of fluid and each room had one bed with a bouncy ball for what they called ‘entertainment.’ I mean, you’d have to be living under a rock not to have heard of this place, it’s in literally every newspaper across Equestria, to my knowledge, and anypony who’s anypony reads the print. They usually just take some perfectly fine pony and give him a light green shade of paint, make him put on some dumb fake grin and say, for the records: “Lazarus has helped me be a better pony” or some dumb thing like that.
The last thing I saw in those places was smiles, lest our racing team kicked some serious butt against our opponents, which we usually did.
In fact, I don’t think they've ever done a sugarcube’s lick of help for anypony once, let alone made anypony a better pony. Only Nurse Redheart really did anything, and she was too busy tending to others most of the time to notice little ol’ me, along with plenty of others.
Anyhow, we had just gone up against our rivals, the Canterlot Crusaders. It was some big game or something because the Princess of the Sun, Celestia, was supposed to be watching. The winning team got this big chance to see none other than the Wonderbolts in action. I’m not saying they’re cool or anything, but it has been my lifelong dream to see them in action and join their ranks, rather than just stare out my window at them performing every month or so. The losing team had this obligation to banish themselves or something, to Tartarus, I wasn’t really sure. Point is, it was a big game.
From the Barracks you couldn’t see much, but you could at least see the scores from the announcer ponies, they had it on scorecards, the number of laps you went around the track. It was hidden behind the group of fans, and the racing ponies weren’t very visible, but I could hear the cheers, and only the Crusaders got cheers. We were in Canterlot. But they weren’t really cheering, it was all kind of just pushed and fake. Since the ponies were in Canterlot, they probably felt the odd compulsion to cheer for the Canterlot team, and it made me sick to my snoot, it did.
I had broken my wing earlier participating in that same race -- it was a wonder the race was still ongoing, probably because they had to find a replacement for me, which I feel is kind of hard to do, especially when the fans love speed. Now I’m trying not to stereotype anypony, but the majority of the people who even watched us race were colts probably trying to get a thrill from the rush of wind by their manes. You never saw a greater spectacle in your life that wasn’t some stallion reaching out and falling through the crowds trying to get close to us. Cadence -- princess of love -- came to the races quite often, and seemed to enjoy them. Aside from rooting for my team, the Cloudsdale Gliders, at all of the games, she seemed to have a knack for bringing ponies together. Love is an icky thing, but I guess it could be cute, sometimes. I’d never met her personally, but honestly, I’m afraid to meet her.
I had only broken my wing because some colt who refused to cooperate with anypony thought it would be funny to playfully “bump” me near Celestia’s booth. Even more, I still didn’t get a clear look, so I couldn’t even be sure she was even there, but she probably wasn’t. Celestia didn’t do much for Equestria, but she did raise the sun, so I guess that’s good for something.
I also wasn’t at the game because I pretended to be hurt. I don’t hate the sport, and I couldn't really care less about the ponies I was with -- I was always the fastest -- but it seemed unfair that we should see the Wonderbolts for my work. It seemed a bit dishonest, if you want my opinion on it all, letting them get credit for everything I did.
The third reason I pretended to hurt my wing to get kicked from the game was for Nurse Redheart. She had told me before the game, as I was getting a checkup, that she wanted to see me and speak to me about something before the season ended. After this game, we would be off for three months before training, and I didn’t have to practice nor get checkups in that time, and a good thing that is too. Canterlot was full of snobs.
And Nurse Redheart knew this would be my last year at my prestigious flight school.
No, I wasn’t getting kicked out and I definitely didn’t quit. I was just good at flying, and my teachers didn’t think I needed to study anything, whether it be aerodynamics or the art of speed. I mean, I was frequently bad at any work, and my grades had plummeted in the last year, which would really send my parents into a frenzy, so I guess I did get kind of kicked out. I could’ve studied as a teacher pony’s aid for a year, helping other ponies, but my grades just wouldn’t allow it. I was basically failing everything that wasn’t physically-challenging to my body.
By now, it was pretty empty in the room, and it seemed the noise outside had quieted down, so I figured it was probably better that I get up and wander until the usual stream of jock ponies came rushing through in a matter of time, confining me back to my bedridden state. I was wearing a few bandages and a racing jersey but not much more than that. I would’ve had on my Wonderbolts scarf, but Ditzy Doo, the derpy, kind of loco in the head pony, took it from me to make a bird’s nest or whatever she said. As much as I resisted her stealing it, she was pretty tough, ‘especially for a pony with wall-eyes. She wasn’t a crook, though.
We had plenty of those around, though. Often enough had my name preceded me, and not in a good way. Apparently many ponies who were actually there when I did it, still do not believe I did a sonic rainboom, even though I clearly did, and that’s why I have the cutie mark for fast flyer, and not them.
Maybe I just hadn’t left earlier because I felt compelled to talk to Nurse Redheart. I didn’t have to stick around for her, but I felt like it was my obligation after everything she’d done for me. Sure, she never meant it when she said “get better.” She had plenty of other things to worry about that weren’t me. Still, I felt like we had grown closer in the time we had known each other. I might not even stay in Canterlot, so she deserved some kind of goodbye. I’d never really left a pony before, she was naturally the longest “friendship” I’d ever had, so I guess it was logical I was still there. I’d hate to make her sad after going to the trouble of putting that note together, even though it probably wasn’t all that much work.
I began to think out loud. I started talking about some odd time back near Hearts and Hooves Day where I tried to set up Misty Dawn with Red Skies. I went so far as to order five-thousand valentines in Red’s name to be delivered to Misty, until my teacher, Primrose, found out about it and made me apologize to the entire class for the two people I planned to pull the joke on. They weren’t bad ponies, they were just like every other pony was: liars. They claimed they knew all about love and everything, when I didn’t think they could hold a steady acquaintanceship with their teachers if they tried. Either way, that Hearts and Hooves Day I was stuck with five-thousand valentines all addressed to somepony I don’t think I’d ever even held a full conversation with.
So I went over to the door and stood next to it so it wouldn’t hit me in the chest or my wing -- that would cause some serious trouble -- and made this weird noise when Nurse Redheart walked in, a noise half between a squeak and a snort, to try and scare her. It worked, and she dropped her tray of needles and other things, much to her dismay. For a second, she seemed angry at me, you could see the tomato-red color rushing to her cheeks, but then she stopped and started to laugh. “C-Celestia, Rainbow Dash, have you grown a few inches since I last saw you?”
And that was about the dumbest thing she could ask me. I felt sorry for her, she couldn’t even process what just happened, or at least that’s how she tried to pass it off. I couldn’t contain my laughter and in a matter of seconds I was on the floor in tears, which got some serious looks from the nurse, as I was on the side of my “broken” wing.
It might’ve been true, though. Every time I came in, I seemed to get a little bit taller. I first saw her when I was a little filly, and now I was a teen mare, so I had to have grown some. I also put my growth on these drinks I’d grown accustomed to, called “Zippy Rainbows.” Their slogan was “These drinks will make you 20% faster and 20% cooler” -- lame, I know, but they tasted absolutely amazing, even though they gave me a hardcore crash after a few hours. I also didn’t take them before races, when I could help it.
But as soon as I regained a bit of breath, I tried standing, failing on my first time, as I spoke to her. “Well of course, nurse, I’m the best, I need to be my tallest,” I said to her, nearly jokingly. Man, when I got around to joking, I really got a kick out of it.
“Next time, maybe you need to slow down, then! If you go through life as fast as you are, you’ll end up breaking everything, or worse, you’ll get old like me!” She exclaimed. “And you wouldn’t want that.”
I didn’t think she was that old, and I wasn’t growing up any quicker than the average pony was. I did have to stop to let her take off my bandages, though. From the speed she used to take them off, it was obvious she saw right through my lie.
“Now then,” she started. “Let’s talk about flight school.”
I groaned, but thought myself lucky when I saw the whole of the racing teams come bursting through the doors, all crowding up to Nurse Redheart. I was pushed out of the way, but I didn’t much care, as long as I didn’t have to talk about that damned place.
“Maybe later!” I heard her shout over the blistering noises. I didn’t pay much attention, though.
I was already out the doors before Red Skies, the last pony of the team to follow the rest, was coming by.
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?