If I Don't Like Keeping Secrets
Then Why Do I Have So Many?
Author's Note
This is loosely inspired by true events that transpired in my childhood.
Yes, this shit happened. No, I'm not okay. But I'll be okay. Someday.
Then Why Do I Have So Many?
I had to see her again. It was my only option left, after all. Just to tell her I'm sorry. To let her know that someday, we could have a friendship again.
To say it's not goodbye.
To try to convince myself the same.
...
My name is Rainbow Dash.
I'm a pegasus rainbow-maned awesome pony from Cloudsdale, and I currently live in Ponyville, with my 5 awesome friends. I am... quite the show, especially in the small-town community. You betcha I've got my fans.
They help dull the pain.
Ego-whatever rants aside, I'm telling you this because I just... I just needed to get my past off of my back. To "let the secrets flow away and have happiness replace them", or whatever my near-theripistical friend Fluttershy would say.
Fluttershy is a pegasus like me (even though she doesn't fly much), and a longtime friend, from my early teen years.
I remember... I remember the one before Fluttershy.
Grace. I can't think of anything involving... her... without feeling horrible. Like a painless, pressureless migraine that doesn't go away. It doesn't feel like my head will explode, or like there's knives floating around in there, but instead it's like a little squeaking bug that never shuts up and is driving me slowly CRAZY!
...I think it's probably a good thing I'm telling you this then.
You have time to spare, so I will make sure not to skip anything... but you don't have unlimited time, so I should probably shut up & start talking.
Let's begin.
March 8th, Hayford University.
"I'm not a kid anymore, Mom! Let me be with group five!"
"I told you, Dash, you'll fit better with group four."
"But... but..."
"I know, I know. I'll give you this, Dash... you're in the right age range for both. But you will do better with the slightly younger ponies. Trust me."
"Grrr!"
Me and my mom were in the car, pulling into the parking lot of the south-side of Hayford.
We were on our way to my early-birthday present, Camp Invention, a small annual camp that focused less on athletics & more on problem-solving, and creativity.
As you could probably guess, I wasn't particularily happy about it.
Not because it involved tinkering & making things; back before Junior Speedsters, & Fluttershy, I honestly was... a bit of an egghead.
No, I wasn't happy because my mom was trying to stick me with the younger crowd. She thought that me being a year or two older than the rest would make for a "good example" on them, or something like that.
I wasn't buying it.
"Okay, okay, fine. I'll be in group four-year-olds." I gave my mom a snicker.
"Dash!"
"Ugh, can't we just atleast see the ponies in each group before you stick me in one?"
"Okay... but unless they really are four-year-olds, I'm still vying for group four."
"You're such a stickler."
She parked in one of the few open spaces that were left (albiet, more than slightly crooked) and we trotted into the main field.
In the middle of Hayford, there's this open park / grassy area.
Good for getting the sun on your back & in your eyes, I guess.
To the side of the park, near the science buildings, lined up were the seven groups of Camp Invention, all ranged from group 1, which really were the four-year-olds, to group 7, the co-volunteers. They were the older kids that had been there previous years, and were there with the added special job of making sure nopony died.
Over to the side, there was a simple wooden table draped in a white cloth. Lying on it were spreadsheets & advertisements of different kinds, along with a signup sheet.
My mom trotted over to sign it, and speak with the kind-looking volunteer manning the sign-in table.
I fluttered over to group 5.
Now, you see, the main problem was that I was in that... weird age. Y'know, the one where you're at the same time expected to have greater responsiblities than dishes & playing in the yard, but you're still too young to have the responsiblities? I'm sure you've felt that way at some point in your life.
Now, group 4 was ages 10-11, and group 5 was 11-12. I was 11.
See the problem?
"Hi, guys," I said, greeting group five in what I thought was a relatively friendly manner.
"Uhh... who are you?" A light brown colt looked at me in what was a mix of confusion & disgust. "Shouldn't you be with... group 3?"
I shot him a look.
Even though I was getting older, I really didn't look like it. The mistake in age happened alot, to be honest. I was really insecure about it though, and I tended to get defensive.
"That's mean. I come over and say 'Hi' and you're saying I'm 6."
"Well, you look like it. Might wanna fix that."
"UGH!"
I rolled my eyes and fluttered over to my mom, which was deep in conversation about photography (she loves to take pictures, mostly about snow)
"How's it coming along, Mom?"
"Huh?! Oh, sorry, Dash, I completely forgot." She turned back to the mare. "Could I have the sign-in sheet, please?" The volunteer handed over a piece of paper with a bunch of offical-looking mumbo-jumbo & a pen, and then my mom strolled over to a nearby bench & started filling it out.
"Done yet?" It was about 10 minutes later, and she wasn't even done with the first page.
"No. I can't remember what shots you got last year. It's allergy season, so they won't let you in without knowing your status." She looked over at me. "Do you remember them?"
"I remember a weird looking stallion pricking me about 3 times."
"...I'll just call your dad."
"'Kay."
I launched myself up off the bench & flew about a dozen feet into the air, and floated back over to the crowds.
They were all still mingling with eachother, talking in exitement & waiting for the final ponies to arrive.
I decided to use the time to check out group four. Even if they were younger, it'd still be better than having to work with that jerk from group five.
"Hi, guys," greeting the kids in the same way.
"Hello!"
"Hi!"
"Woaah, your mane is cool!"
I landed down on the ground, smiling.
"Well, you guys seem nice."
"Thanks!"
A jet blue filly walked up to me, and shook my hoof.
"Nice to meet you."
I recongnized it as the girl who complimented my multicoloured mane.
"Nice to meet you, too. My name's Rainbow Dash."
"Nice name. My name is Grace."
