Make a Mistake with Me

by CoffeeAndCigarettes

Rating: teen
Tags: Sunset Shimmer, Dazzlings, Second Person, Drama, Original Character, Equestria Girls, Mystery
Length: 45542

Behind you: juvie. Before you: Canterlot High School.

Former delinquent.

Former guitarist.

Former biker.

That is you - North Wind. And you've just moved to Canterlot City.

(Edited by Ese Way)

Published 2016-10-21 21:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-08-18 15:19:28 UTC

Track #1: Goodbye Blue Sky

Track #1: Goodbye Blue Sky

Coffee and cigarettes.

That’s about what you had to your name, at the moment. You are North Wind, and you are stuck in the band room of Canterlot High School. Well, less “stuck”, more “better here than anywhere else.” Your studio flat, quite frankly, reeked like corpses and was covered in trash bags.

So much for fresh start after juvie.

Sure enough, you skipped town and arrived to this city. Hell, you even enrolled into the local high school (which was a miracle in itself.) But it looks like old habits die hard, especially when there’s no motivation for change. In just a few short weeks, your new apartment started looking like a landfill. Thus, there was nothing waiting for you there.

And it’s not like you had made any friends to hang out with during your time in CHS. Really, most of the students avoided you like a plague, and rumors run rampant.

Which was just fine with you.

After all, it’s what made your current situation possible. Cigarette on the lips, thermos of tar-esque coffee next to you, and an old guitar in your hands. You were as close to heaven as you had been in six months.

You feel a slight tingle as your fingers fly on the neck, sliding up on an open E-string. The tunes of John Lee Hooker echo in the silence of the dusk-dyed school.

Thought you doubted the pair of raspberry-colored eyes looking at you recognizes the song.

You hum to the tune you were playing and act like you didn’t notice. Whoever was spying you from behind the door wasn’t exactly Big Boss. But other than the occasional hushed whisper, she wasn’t bothering you.

Still, you couldn’t but to overhear the conversation… or, at least, one side of it. Sounded like she was on the phone.

“T-the band room’s a no-go!” female voice hissed. “Someone’s in there! Someone weeeeeeird!”

You hear fervent, pacing steps, going back and forth.

“No, I can’t! He’s, like, three times my height! For realsies!” she complains. “You do it, Aria!”

Sounds like things are not going her way.

“N-no, but, I—” she sputters. “Nuh-uh! You are!”

Oh boy. Looks like you had stumbled upon something troublesome. You took a drag from your cigarette and heaved the smoke through your teeth. This might turn ugly if things went south. The only thing you could hope for was that this wasn’t some student-utilizing hunt for delinquents.

If it was just some idiot looking for a place to stash her booze, that you could cope with. Hell, you might have tried to buy a bottle. But if this was connected in any way to that Principal…

Shit, the memory of your first meeting still gave you shivers. That ma’am was not to be messed with.

But! Back to the present. Namely, the door of the band room slamming open.

“S-smoking on the school’s premises is, like, illegal, you know!?” comes a stuttering accusation.

Hoo boy.

Blue and purple. Hair on an energetic ponytail that bounced to the rhythm of her breathing. Whoever this girl was, at least she knew how to leave an impression with her style. Still, the confident image was marred by how she was shaking. Her whole body seems to scream how confronting you was the last thing that she wanted to do.

But seeing, and more importantly, smelling her left you relaxed. That smell that hung around her… you knew it all too well. Small grin forms on your lips.

“I know. I just don’t care,” you comment. ”What’cha gonna do, brother?”

Clearly not the answer she was looking for. The girl tilts her head in confusion. However, she recovers just as quickly.

“I’ll… I’ll report to Principal Celestia!” she says. “And I’m not a brother, but with the Student Council, you know?”

Wow. It had been a while since you had heard a lie that bad.

“No you won’t,” you chuckle at her. “In fact, you’re not with those goons. From what I can see, you’re just trying to make me leave.”

Bullseye. The girl recoils in a surprise.

“H-how did you know!?” she demands to know, waving her hands animatedly.

“Mostly judging by the state of your clothes, and your smell,” you tap your nose. “It’s been a while since you showered, huh?”

Another bullseye. She was now holding onto the door as a support. Looks like you had hit closer to home than she wanted.

“Is it… like, that obvious?” She looks rather embarrassed.

The sight was endearing enough that you have to take another drag just to hide your grin.

“As a former homeless, it strikes a chord with me,” you admit. “Dunno about others.”

This seems to surprise her in a different way. She leans a bit closer, eyes wide. You can now smell a gentle whiff of sea salt mix in with the other fragrances.

”Wait… you’re homeless, too?” she asks.

You shrug and continue strumming the vaguely familiar chords. It's not easy to take after the Great One, but you needed to keep up your skill. You might go crazy if you didn't. Not to mention it made the whole situation relax a bit.

“Not anymore. I used to be, though,” you say and chuckle a bit. “That’s why it’s easy to spot someone in the same situation. Thanks for the confirmation though. Now it’s clear I have nothing to worry about.”

That made her expression quickly sour. It seemed that now that her lie had been busted, she no longer had any idea what to do.

“Aww, now I went and messed up. Aria’s gonna kill me,” the girl groans in frustration. “For realsies this time.”

The sight before you made the old guitar in your hands seem real interesting all of a sudden. Damn girl had the perfect “kicked puppy” moment going on. You almost felt like Indy before the Arc of Covenant. Just focus on the strings, North.

And so, a moment of awkward silence falls over the room. You do your best to fill it with the sound of your guitar, but it’s not really working. So, eventually, you succumb. To a degree.

“You know, I’m not moving from this room…” you start. “But I don’t mind other people here. So if this is your hangout or whatever, I’m not driving you out.”

“Really? Even if I’m…” she left those words hanging in the air stiffly.

Looks like someone else had their collection of bones in their closet.

“Don’t care, Blue,” you answer. “You don’t pry into my business, I don’t pry into yours. Deal?”

The girl before you smiles for the first time. She nods enthusiastically. With a little bounce in her step now, she enters the band room and looks around. However, just as quickly, she looks back at you, a little confused look on her face.

“I’m Sonata, by the way. Not Blue,” she introduces herself. You snort.

“Whatever you say, sister.”

“And I’m not your sister, either,” she disagrees. “At least I hope I'm not!”

You heave a heavy sigh and grimace. This was going to be a chore.

“I know that. It’s just… it’s just a saying,” you try to explain while letting your pick move back and forth. “Don’t mind me.”

“Alrighty, then I won’t!”

***

The blue-haired girl, Sonata, is quick to lose her interest in you. Instead, she makes a beeline straight for your thermos, with curious sparkle in her eyes. She peers into the container, only to draw immediately away like the sight had burnt her face.

“W-what’s that!? It looks, like, boiling asphalt!”¨she asks, aghast.

“Never seen real coffee before, I take it?” you say and smile a bit smugly.

“I’ve seen coffee, and that’s not it!” Sonata protests. “That’s… that’s just something evil!”

“Never knock something before you try it,” you say sagely. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you that?”

Your lopsided joke has a bit of a surprising effect. Sonata’s expression droops, and she shuffles around awkwardly.

“Umm… I dunno. I don’t remember my mama.”

Well shit. Now you went and made things depressing... Or so you thought, but it looks like the girl’s forgotten about it already.

Indeed, she’s busying herself by pouring some of your coffee to the cup. And, surprisingly enough, she’s humming along with the tune of your instrument. Chuckling in relief, you return to strumming your guitar.

At some point, Serves Me Right To Suffer had morphed into Jessica. You hadn’t even really realized it. Was it because of this girl’s perky aura? Sure, she still seemed bit uncomfortable around you, but…

Underneath that shifty way she held herself seemed to shine some sort innocence. At least enough to brighten your mood a bit.

“Eugh! Uagh! G-gaah!”

You are snapped from your thoughts by sounds of pure disgust.

Looking at its source, you see that Sonata has already had a taste of the coffee. She’s currently writhing on the floor, doing her best cerebral palsy impression.

“It… It tastes like death! For realsies!” the odd girl gags.

“And yet it makes you feel alive,” you comment nonchalantly. “Grand are life’s mysteries, huh?”

Sonata responds by making puking sounds and wiping her tongue with a napkin.

Eventually Sonata seems to calm down, or, at the very least, get the taste out of her mouth. She sighs in relief and sits down on one of the amps close by. You frown at the sight a bit. It’s not like the girl can weigh that lot, but still, that’s just rude.

She notices your expression, and grins sheepishly. Here comes the forced ice-breaker.

”So, umm… what’s your name?” she asks, predictably.

“North Wind,” you grunt.

“North Wind? I’m Sonata!” she offers her hand to you. “Nice to meet’cha!”

“Yeah, I know. You told me already,” you say, not bothering to shake it.

“Oh! So I did.” She giggles in delight.

Looks like this one’s easy to amuse, at the very least. You have been nothing if not rude, yet she still manages to find something to smile about. Odd person to be sure; and that's not even counting her bizarre hair.

After a moment of silence, Sonata crosses her legs and leans against them.

“So, like, what are you doing here, North?” she asks innocently.

You grimace again. Looks like small-talk is unavoidable.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You try to convey your annoyance with your tone.

Such subtle message misses her by couple miles and crashes into some runaway big rig out in Nevada.

“Well, it looks like you’re smoking illegally on school grounds,” Sonata answers. ”And hiding away in the band room, playing a guitar.”

She manages to even look proud at her answer. It was just a rhetorical question, you nitwit. Don’t look so smug dammit.

“I suppose it does,” you grumble. “In other words, I came here to be alone.”

“Oh! So, how’s that working out for you?”

If your hands weren’t focused on the strings, you’d have them have a quick pow-wow with your forehead right about now.

“Oh, it’s working out great,” you hiss. “Just marvelously, in fact.”

Even though your voice is dripping with sarcasm like venom from snake’s fangs, it goes unnoticed. The blue-haired goof next to you just smiles happily.

You once again focus on the guitar in your hands, trying to ignore the drill-like gaze of the girl. If she was really supposed to drive you away from this room, she’s not going that good of a job.

… Or, maybe she is. This silence between you two is getting pretty unbearable. You eventually decide to break it.

“So? What are you actually doing here?” you ask.

“Oh, we usually sleep here since the place is unlocked,” Sonata explains. “So Adagio sent me ahead to make sure nobody was here.”

The girl happily blabs on, without a care in the world.

“But since it turned out you were here, she and Aria were like: ‘Get rid of him, now!’ and stuff,” she continues. Suddenly, the happy expression turns into a pout. “But, like, how am I supposed to do that? You’re huge! And look scary! And—“

Suddenly, she clamps her hands over her mouth, looking shocked. Well, it was about time she noticed she had just ratted her true intentions. You chuckle and turn your attention back to the guitar.

“And you just blew your plan, so I have even less intention of moving from here,” you cackle.“Way to go, goof.”

“Oh no, what’re we gonna do now?” Sonata scratches her head. “I don’t wanna go back to the streets…”

Ignoring her, you bring the current melody to a close, and let your fingers rest for a moment. You reach for the still-steaming cup of coffee and take big swig. The lava-like substance fills your mouth, and for a moment, you feel at peace. Satisfied, you stump your cigarette in the makeshift ashtray. All while trying to ignore the girl despairing next to you.

“See, we got kicked out of home few months ago…” Sonata eventually starts.

“Uh huh.” You feign disinterest.

It’s not that you’re totally against talking with Sonata, but her situation is none of your business. Therefore, you pluck a few notes instead, fumbling for any melody to fill the silence. She simply fidgets her fingers, looking rather downcast. You can only hope she’s not the type to confine in total strangers.

“We… we did something pretty bad,” she eventually says.

Oy vey.

“We were pretty nasty before. Like, super nasty,” Sonata admits. “And we wanted to use lotsa people for our own gain.”

You didn’t want to hear this. This had nothing to do with you. Couldn’t she seek a counseling session from someone professional? You were just a delinquent hiding away in the band room, goddammit!

“But we got caught and then, um… we were punished. They took away what made so dangerous,” Sonata continues. “After that, we’ve been scraping by. It’s been super hard. Everyone hates us, after all…”

You focus on staring at the guitar strings. The sight of something glimmering in Sonata’s eyes is not something you want to intrude upon. You have that much respect for her.

“And Adagio and Aria hate everyone else. So nothing’s getting better. Nothing’s fun anymore.” You can hear her voice quiver. “It’s not like I wanna go back to way things were. We were mean to each other back then, too.”

Sonata sighs and looks down at her hands.

“I just wish the three of us could still have some fun. Even if it was just us…”

And with that, she falls silent once more. You’re left to fill the room with some notes that sound grating even to your own ear. Even if you did tune the guitar before starting.

Strange, that.

Eventually you simply give up, and reach in your pocket for another cigarette. As you light it up, you glance at Sonata. Her eyes are now staring at the floor, and her expression could put a whole dog pound to shame.

Goddammit, you were not used to dealing with girls like this. Why did she just suddenly show a vulnerable side to a guy she barely knew?

Who does that!?

You fold your arms and leaned back your chair. You stare at the smoke rising from the tip of your cigarette, gilded by the light of the setting sun. Strangely enough, the sight makes words form your lips.

“You know… nobody goes through this life and does everything perfectly,” you finally say.

Sonata looks at you, surprise written all over her face. She really didn’t expect that. Then, out of the blue, she snorts in amusement, and a hint of a smile rises to her lips.

“That’s… Brad Paisley, right?” she asks.

“Huh?”

“That’s from Brad Paisley’s song, isn’t it?” she says again. “I thought it sounded familiar.”

Now that you think about it, yeah, it was. You hadn’t even realized that when you spoke it. Still, the words had felt fitting considering what you had just heard. At the very least, the words had some positive effect on the girl. She no longer looked like her pet had been crushed under the body of her dead mother.

“So… you listen to Paisley?” you ask.

Sonata nods after some hesitation.

“Um, sorta. Adagio wanted us to focus on one genre, but I couldn’t help but to experiment a bit,” she scratches her cheek. “But, like, I wasn’t really good at singing in any other style, so I just listened to Cds. Since, you know, we were preparing for the competition.”

Suddenly, something hits you. It was like puzzle-pieces that had been nagging in your head were locked in place.

You had heard about this girl and her friends before.

When you arrived not too long ago, you heard some rumors. About some sort of “Battle of the Bands” that had happened. And how some girls participating in it had used some… questionable means. You never heard any details, but you could guess that one of those girls was now before you.

Suddenly their insistence of sleeping in the band room made all too much sense.

“So, you sing, huh?” you ask.

To emphasize your actual point, you plucked the first few notes of the song you had just talked about.

“O-oh, um, not really,” Sonata says, hurriedly denying her earlier words. “Not anymore. I just… I just sound terrible now. For realsies.”

“Hey, it’s not like I’m Setzer or anything, either,” you say with a lopsided grin. “You should sing if you want to.”

“It’s alright, really! I’m… I’m fine.” Sonata waves her arms hastily.

“Oh. Well, suit yourself.”

You shrug and continue playing. It’s a bit of a shame, but you can’t really force the girl. You let the melody flow from your fingertips. Its hopeful tones fill the band room, mixing with the orange light pouring in from the outside.

You have to admit, it wasn’t a bad choice at all, considering the atmosphere. Of course, it would have been better if there was someone to sing along with it, but alas. Even if she had hummed along with you before, if she didn’t want to sing, that was that.

You just let the first part of the song repeat itself.

It was relaxing in itself, but it was also an invitation. At the very least, you wanted to let her know that skills or no, she was welcome to join in at any time.

… Even if you didn’t know the reason why you wanted that.

Suddenly, you hear it.

It starts faint, hesitating, almost too quiet to hear. But as you don’t react to it, it gains some strength surprisingly quickly. It’s a feminine voice. And it’s coming from next to you.

The familiar lyrics flow through the air, hesitant at first.

You glance at Sonata. The girl’s hiding her face beneath her bangs, and you see a pink flush on her cheeks. Her fingers are fidgeting faster than before, but it’s from excitement, not shame.

With a faint smile rising to your lips, you take a drag from your cigarette and continue playing. Soon enough, the two of you are recreating that song you both knew.

The further you continue, the more confidence Sonata’s voice gains. Sure enough, when she gets enough strength behind it, you can’t help but to wince a bit.

It’s bad. Really bad.

You understand why she’d be so hesitant to sing these days. But at the same time, you can’t help but to marvel at the earnest passion behind it. She may sing horribly, but she sings straight from her heart.

It’s been a while since you heard such innocent love towards music itself. It’s enough to make you forget the lack of skill as you lead you two into the bridge. You lose yourselves into the music, and let the world around you fade away momentarily.

There’s nothing else important at this very moment.

Just the sound of the old acoustic guitar you’re playing and the untrained voice of Sonata accompanying it.

The orange-dyed band room in otherwise empty school. The smoke of your cigarette slowly rising towards the ceiling. The cheerful smile spreading to the lips of the girl next to you. The rhythmic tapping of your foot that you barely even realize. The soft clapping of Sonata’s hands as she paces herself to the melody.

It all mixes together to create what you can only describe as a “moment.”

It doesn’t matter whether either of you is that great at playing or singing. What you’re creating right now is still, undoubtedly, music. After all, it’s coming from two people enjoying what they are doing.

It only takes that much.

Just like that, the awkward pauses and forced conversations are swept aside. What is left is understanding. In such a simple way, you’ve found the right tune to connect yourself with this girl.

Human interaction is surprisingly easy, after all. It doesn’t need much thought put into it. As long as you can find something you both feel is fun, then it’s alright. And this song is the discovery you’ve made with Sonata.

You raise your gaze, and notice that the blue-haired girl is staring straight at you. Gone is the sadness that you saw before. It has been replaced with, of all things, gratitude.

You’re a bit surprised.

You continue playing, but at the same time, you don’t even focus on your hands anymore. The same thing seems to happening with her. You simply look into each other’s eyes.

That raspberry-colored stare is drilling itself into your deepest thoughts. For some reason, you feel heat overtake your cheeks. And yet… you don’t break away. After all, it’s just part of this “moment.” Nothing needs to be said or done. It’s just the music and the two of you.

And that, as they say, is alright.

“Sonata! Just what are you screeching in here?”

As before, the door of the band room is slammed open with quite the force. The sudden interruption makes you strike the wrong chord. Just like that, the song comes to a jarring halt.

The two of you stare at the girls standing in the doorway.

One of them has orange hair the size of the Hindenburg, and a haughty expression. The other one could make a lemon tree blush in shame with the sourness of her scowl. It seems the Poofy Haired One is about to berate Sonata some more, but jerks back after seeing you.

”And… who is this?” She asks, folding her arms and glaring daggers at you.

”Oh! That’s North Wind!” Sonata excitedly introduces you. ”North, this is Adagio and Aria!”

The blue-haired goof next to you has zero ability in reading the mood, it seems.

”Oh. So this is him,” the girl called Adagio does a much-telling eyeroll. ”Sonata, wasn’t there something you were supposed to do about… this?”

She also waves her hand slightly to your general direction. This seems to bring Sonata back to the matter at hand, as she grimaces in embarrassment.

”Oh, right. Umm, well, you see—“

“Nah, that’s alright, Sonata,” you cut her off. “I was just about to leave after this song, anyhow.”

“You were? But, you said…” Sonata asks in surprise, but once again you speak before she can finish.

“I’ve had my coffee and smoked enough to ruin one room. I think that’s a job well done, no?”

You grin at her as you pack away your thermos, and return the guitar to its stand. As you get ready to leave, Sonata gets up from the amp and walks over to you. She shuffles a bit awkwardly, but still manages to smile.

“Umm, North?” she giggles. That was, like, super fun. For realsies.”

“Yeah. I suppose it was”, you answer. “It was a welcome break from playing alone.”

Adagio and Aria look at you two in confusion as you chuckle. It seems they have no idea what’s going on.

After saying goodbye to Sonata, you head out of the band room, brushing past the two who interrupted you. Aria merely scoffs at you, but Adagio is giving you a scrutinizing glare. To be honest, it unnerves you a bit.

You knew girls like her. They were seriously nothing but trouble. Thus, you hurry your steps a bit. The faster you put some distance between you two, the better.

As you are about to exit the room, you suddenly hear Sonata calling out to you.

“Thanks, North! I’m feeling much better now!”

You smile back at her, and give her a small wave. She enthusiastically waves her hand back.

“I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow!” she shouts.

Tomorrow, huh?

That was a bit unexpected. But if you were honest with yourself, it wasn’t… unwelcome. You hadn’t really made any new acquaintances at the CHS, after all.

As you walk down the corridor, you can still hear the faint sounds of the trio talking with each other.

“Okay, Sonata, you were right. That guy was, ugh, super weird,” the purple girl, Aria, says.

Sounds like you didn’t leave a good impression on her.

“I agree with you there… but I noticed a distinct lack of scorn for us. What was up with that?” Adagio continues.

It was kinda sad that that was what she paid attention to.

“Oh, I think he, like, transferred here not long ago! He was really fun! Weird… but fun!” Sonata exclaims.

You really didn’t want to hear that from her, of all people.

Eventually even their voices faded away as you got closer to the main entrance. It was back to the landfill-like apartment with you, but, for some reason, you didn’t mind. In fact, you were in a much better mood than you had been in a long while.

Humming the tune you had been just playing, you threw around the thermos in your hands. The smoke on your lips burned with newfound vigor.

You were North Wind. Cigarettes and coffee were still just about the only things you had to your name.

But after today… you also had a new friend.

Track #2: Different Shades of Blue

Track #2: Different Shades of Blue

“Mmm... Bandelaro?”

You nod softly as your fingers pick the strings of the acoustic guitar in your hands. Cool winds of early October caress your skin as you sit on the bleachers, wrapped up in your leather jacket. The small figure next to you hugs the thermos of piping hot coffee, listening intently.

Quickly, you change the way you strum the trusty, if beat-up, guitar 'borrowed' from the band room. From B to E, you create a much more forlorn melody, full of longing. The eyes of the girl next to you are fixated on your moving fingers, and you can hear her humming along. She knows, even if she doesn't get it yet.

Sonata has an almost uncanny way of recognizing songs.

”Oh! Santana's Europa!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

“Yeah, that's it,” you murmur as an answer, letting your left hand slide back up on the neck.“Good Ol' Santana.”

One more. This time, the mood barely changes, but instead of the more picking-focused style, you aim to recreate the wail of an electric guitar by lengthening the notes. This causes Sonata's face to scrunch up as she tries to wrack her brains for an answer.

After a minute or so, she finally snaps her fingers. Only to turn unsure yet again.

“Umm...” she scratches her chin. “B-Bonamassa, I think? Dunno 'bout the song, though...”

“Prisoner,” you answer for her. “Not his, I know, but-”

“Ooh, right, right!” Sonata happily nods. “It was Barbara Streisand's song originally, right? And then Bonamassa made a cover for it on the... on the, umm..."

“Dust Bowl album,” you comment again.

“Yeah, Dust Bowl! That was it,” she grins, before looking at you with wonder in her eyes. “But wow, North. You're good, for realsies! You must've been playing long.”

For a moment, pictures of the past flash before your eyes. Of dirty, rundown bars and their stages. Of record stores and their scummy owners. Of motels and their bug-infested beds. Neon lights and cheap beer, all seen through the hazy smoke of a cigarette.

You chuckle as you put your guitar aside and light up a smoke for yourself.

“Yeah, I guess I have,” you tell her a half-truth. “Never noticed it myself, I suppose.”

You see a small frown appear on Sonata's face as she stares at the thing dangling from your lips. She didn't approve of your habit, not really. But she tolerated it because, for some unfathomable reason, she enjoyed your company. Or so it seemed. She hadn't complained much so far.

But then again, it's not like you were any better. You weren't exactly fond of chatterboxes like her, but you tolerated it. Tolerated it because you, for some absurd reason, enjoyed her company.

Life had gotten so much weirder in the past few days after meeting the girl called Sonata Dusk.

You lean back on the bleachers, letting a cloud of smoke rise from between your teeth to the overcast sky. It was lunch time at CHS, meaning every other student was currently hurrying to the cafeteria. You, on the other hand, had opted differently. You had your half-eaten burrito from yesterday and a thermos of coffee. That was enough for you.

“You know, Blue,” you say to Sonata, who is quietly sipping her own coffee. “You didn't have to come here. Heard they were serving meatloaf today. If you don't have much money, you might want to indulge in every meal you can.”

“Aha, well, um, 'bout that...” Sonata scratches her cheek sheepishly. “I don't think people really like when any of us comes to the cafeteria. Their glares are scary, for realsies you know?”

“Birds of the feather then, you and I.”

The so-called Dazzlings as the school seemed to know them. After meeting with Sonata for the first time, you had snooped around a little bit only to find that they were currently the school's number one pariahs. Something about music competitions, but nothing more than rumors.

Just like you. After you had enrolled into CHS, somehow a bit of your past had become a persistent gossip among the students. Namely that you had been in juvie in the past. It had made you an immediate outcast, which was just fine with you.

“You and me?” Sonata asks, pointing at herself and you in succession.

When you nod, to your surprise she shakes her head.

“Not really. To me you're more like-”

”Hi there!”

Sonata's words and your dull mood is cut by a sudden appearance of vibrant pink accompanied by a high-pitched voice. The blue goof next to you yelps in surprise and scurries away from the sudden intruder. You, on the other hand, have no such luck.

You find yourself staring at pools of pure cerulean, framed by a poofy arrangement of pink hair around it.

Another girl. One that you have seen here and there in the school.

“You know, they really don't allow smoking on school grounds,” the girl happily informs you.“Plus, it's super bad for you.”

“Thanks for the info,” you groan and rebelliously take another drag from your cigarette. “Now get off me.”

“Oh, sorry!” the girl giggles and jumps one pew above, peering at you two from there.

You also sit up and dust off your leather jacket, taking a better look at the new intruder. She's definitely an energetic one, but different from how Sonata acts. This one seems to have no brakes whatsoever, as she's currently busying herself with the contents of her bags despite you glaring at her. Dressed in gaudy colors, she's just about everything you can't stand in high school girls.

And speaking of being unable to stand, you feel Sonata quietly position herself so that you're between her and the newcomer. A glance at your acquaintance tells you enough. Sonata looks like a cornered animal, ready to flee at any moment.

“By the way, I'm Pinkie Pie!” the girl happily introduces herself, fishing out a notebook and a pen from her bag. “What's your name?”

“What does it matter?” you grunt, eyeing her up warily, shoulders stiff and rounded.

“Well you're new here, silly, so I was gonna be friends with you!” the girl called Pinkie explains like it was obvious. “I'm friends with everybody in this school, you know?”

Yeah right. Judging from how Sonata's acting, that's a gross exaggeration.

“So here!” Pinkie hands you the notebook and a pen. “This is my Friend Book, so if you could write something here, that'd be super swell! That way I'll know how to be just the type of friend you need.”

Something stinks here, and it's not just you. Honestly, there was no way someone was gonna just randomly decide to become your friend. Even Sonata had been afraid of you at first. But this? This was suspicious with a capital S. Not to mention that you didn't exactly get a good vibe from this pink girl. She was too happy. Too innocent-looking. Like she had no care in the world.

Those were always the ones to watch out for. Everybody has something they are hiding, and you could immediately sense that from Sonata. So, even though they're somewhat alike, you trusted the blue-haired goof far easier than this pink monstrosity.

Plus, she just rubbed you off the wrong way with that sickly sweet tone of hers. She must've been mocking you. In which case...

After a moment of hesitation, you snatch the book from her hands. You peer inside. It's filled with empty lines inquiring about nonsense and expecting you to answer it. The most worrisome thing here is that somehow, this Pinkie Pie has already glued a picture of you on one page. Picture you don't remember being taken.

“N-North... you sure?” Sonata quietly asks behind you.

“Just watch,” you grin back at her.

You twirl the pen and begin scribbling on the pages before you. You never were one with neat handwriting, but these days it's an absolute mess. Especially now that you're not even putting in that much effort. Still, after few minutes, you hand the book back to Pinkie Pie, who peers into it with an excited smile.

Few seconds later, her smile turns into one of confusion.

“Umm, hold on a minute Sod...” she double-checks the name you wrote there. “Sod Off? Are you sure there's a 69 Get Bent Lane in Canterlot City? 'Cause I never heard of it.”

“Oh, definitely,” you smirk at her, hearing Sonata suppress a chuckle behind you. ”You should visit it sometime. It'd do you good to go to Get Bent.”

Sonata's muffled laugh almost breaks through thanks to an uncontrolled snort.

“Oh, I definitely will! I'm always happy to visit new friends,” Pinkie exclaims with a giggle. “Some might think it's kinda dumb, but I don't let it bother me. I mean, since we're all in this school together, why not get along, all of us?”

“That's an admirable stance,” you say. “Means we won't bother you in the least, then.”

That's as far as Sonata gets. She breaks down in guffaws, clutching her stomach and rolling on the seat. Pinkie looks a bit confused, but still doesn't drop her smile. For all you know, she thinks you're laughing with her.

It's only after few seconds of thinking that she makes an expression of understanding and cocks a mischievous eyebrow at you, leaning closer.

“Ooooh, you were telling a joke, weren't you?” she giggles. “I guess I didn't get it at first.”

“Yeah, I was counting on that,” you understand, eliciting another cackle from Sonata.

Pinkie Pie, on the other hand, looks pretty unsure what to make of this. Her smile has began to falter as some sort of warning bells must be ringing in her head right about now.

“Umm, I guess it was sorta funny, but that wasn't very nice thing to say,” she says to you.

“Good,” you answer. You lean closer and stump your cigarette on the still-open pages of her notebook. “Then my message came across, loud and clear. Was starting to worry when you didn't get the name.”

Pinkie yelps and jumps up, trying to put out the now smoldering pages of her friend book. She huffs and puffs at the paper, but it's too late to save the part where you wrote all that nonsense from before. At the very least, the name seems to remain, as Pinkie glances it.

Her face falls immediately.

“O-oh. Aha... haha... Y-you got me good, I see,” she says, her voice faltering. “Sorry, I suppose I'll just... go then. To not bother you anymore.”

Clutching the remnants of her friend book, she bolts down the stairs to the soccer field, her pink hair bouncing much less than before. From what you saw, she was biting her lip anxiously and the look in her eyes told all you needed to know. The pest wouldn't bother you again.

Good riddance. Better get rid of her before she tries whatever scheme she was planning. Too bad for her, but you were smart enough to see right through that facade of hers.

“T-that was super, North!” Sonata giggles like mad, leaning on you for support. “That dumb-brain deserved that, for realsies!”

“Oh?”

“Yeah... I-I mean, she was one of them,” Sonata says, grinning at you. “You know, the ones that made everyone in the school hate us.”

“Really now?” You ask and smirk. “Looks like my hunch was right, then. Ain't no one who'll just appear out of nowhere to be your friend.”

Sonata's explanation lifted that odd pang of guilt that had been striking your heart. You hadn't even noticed it was there. Strange.

“Huh? But didn't that sorta happen with us?” Sonata asks, eyes wide.

You tousle her hair and she giggles in delight.

“Well, you're special. After all, you're dumb.”

To your surprise, Sonata doesn't pout or take offense at what you said. Instead she nods to herself, like she had just confirmed something important. She turns to look at you, those raspberry-colored eyes shining under the fading light of an October afternoon.

“You know... you really are similar,” she says.

“Right, you were about to say something like that.” You scratch your head. ”About how I resembled someone. So, who is it?”

Sonata beams at you.

“Adagio. I mean, you both can be super mean when you want to. For realsies, I know,” she explains. “But often, you don't mean half of what you say.”

Adagio? That copper-colored blimp you saw the other day?

Just what the hell could you have in common with her?

***

You slam your locker door shut, having thrown the rest of your books there. You didn't need them back home, and honestly, who would steal from you? An idiot, that's who. So right now, the only possible culprit was Sonata. Getting them back would be easy.

Speaking of the girl, she had been dragged away by those other two. You weren't sure if they were friends or sisters, but nevertheless, they seemed to get along somehow. Or see each other as a group. You on the other hand?

You still feel the venom in the gazes of Adagio and Aria.

And speaking of venom...

“North Wind, right?”

The instant you turn around your face falls into grimace. You recognized this girl. That flaming hair and pensive expression were something you had seen before. Dressed like some sort of modern pop-punk reject, she was the one who always walked around CHS like she owned the place. As she probably did. That's how it seemed to you, at least.

Now, as for her name...

“Baconswirl?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at the girl. Her eyes twitch dangerously.

“Sunset Shimmer. I think I told you my name when we first met,” she says, folding her arms. “I was the one who showed you around when you arrived, wasn't I?”

Oh, right. So she was. Insufferable girl as far as you can remember. She went on and on about school spirit and how you'd fit in perfectly. There was also something about CHS being a place for second chances, which sent you two into an argument that most of the school had to have heard.

What did a pampered teenager like her know about making mistakes, anyway?

And now that you think about it, if she knew about where you came from, who's to say she wasn't the one spreading the rumor around the school? Immediately after thinking this, your mood sours considerably.

“What do you want?” you ask, throwing on your bag. “I need to get home.”

“I get that, but first, there's something we need to talk about,” she says, ignoring your eyeroll. “See, I happened to talk with Pinkie Pie after lunch today, and she told me something a bit disturbing.”

“Isn't everything she says disturbing?” you snort.

“That's exactly what I wanted to talk about. From what I understand, Pinkie went to meet you during the lunch,” she continues. “And you repaid her kindness by being a total jerk.”

You groan. This is the last thing you needed today.

“Who asked that hyperactive poodle to stick her nose into my business?” you ask, tone of your voice changing to confrontational. “My day was going perfectly until she had to come bother me.”

“Pinkie was worried about you!” Baconswirl insists, looking miffed. “She, like many of us, noticed you haven't made a single friend since you've arrived to CHS. So she wanted to make you feel more welcome, and you practically spat in her face!”

“Nobody asked her to pity me, least of all me!” you answer with equal force. “And I dunno if she noticed, but I already had company back then. I'd rather choose myself who I spent time with, if anyone at all!”

Baconswirl clicks her tongue, glancing aside. Looks like your little spat is attracting some glances, as she continues with a voice much quieter.

“You mean Sonata Dusk? Look, I know you're new here, but I think you should choose a bit more car-”

Was it something in your glare? The girl before you stops her words short, taking a step back.

“Nevermind. You're right, it's not my place to tell who you can or can't be friends with,” she eventually continues and sighs. “Just... there's plenty of others who want to get to know you. I know it might be a bit hard to believe since you came straight here from juvie, but... don't shut us out, alright? We want you to enjoy your time here at CHS.”

Hearing her words, something in your minds clicks. Your eyes narrow as you stare at this girl in a new light, something annoying tugging at your chest.

“Wait... so you did know about my circumstances?” you ask. She nods, looking a bit nervous.

“Um, yeah.”

“See, I thought it a bit funny. Only faculty should know about it, and they wouldn't start spreading rumors, right?” you take a step forward, and she takes one back. “So I figured the one who told everybody about me had to be a student. And looks like I found the culprit.”

“N-no!” Baconswirl is quick to deny it, but her nervous face says otherwise. “I mean, I didn't just gossip about it. I told my friends since they wanted to help you, but... we did it in cafeteria, so someone might've overheard us, and...”

Her voice falters and dies off. She, too, realized that she had hit the bullseye. You, on the other hand, rub your temples. This conversation is giving you a migraine unlike any other. Now that you thought about it, all two times you had spoken with this girl had made you annoyed beyond belief.

“Great. So you're the reason everyone's avoiding me like a plague. Thanks a lot,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Not that I mind, I much prefer to be alone. Or with someone I got to know myself. But thanks for limiting my options. You're a model of a human being, Baconswirl.”

Having had enough, you turn around to leave. The haste in your steps doesn't come just from how unpleasant this conversation was. It was always like this with just about everyone you talked with. Hell, Sonata might be the only one whom you feel at ease with. Which is why this idiot and her words made you riled up even more.

And when you feel a slender hand grasp your shoulder, you can't help it. You shake it off. Violently.

“W-what's your problem, jerk!?” Baconswirl asks, holding her swatted arm. “I know I screwed up, but we're only trying to help! I can still fix-”

“My problem?” You whip around, not realizing how loud your voice is. “My problem is with all of you.”

With that, you finally take your leave. Hair at the back of your neck standing. Arms balled in fists. Foul taste in your mouth.

Why did they get under your skin so easily?

Behind you, you hear a quiet sigh and the sound of someone slumping against a metallic locker. You refuse to look back. This conversation was done. None of it was your problem anymore.

“Way to go Sunset...” you hear a self-demeaning whisper behind you.

Just walk. You know you've done nothing wrong. Remaining here is only going to make things worse. You might as well head back to your apartment. Being with innumerable trash bags, yesterday's pizza and a lukewarm bottle of booze was preferable to dealing with all this high school drama. They only made you irrationally angry and caused arguments. So anywhere, alone, was better than here.

… Right?

Track #3: Blue Jeans and a Rosary

Track #3: Blue Jeans and a Rosary

The old radio next to you prattles on its boring newsfeed of the day. You bite into the stale chicken nuggets you were storing in your backpack earlier. The mixbox had been crushed under your algebra books, but the contents were still somewhat edible.

Hell, they had been 'somewhat edible' when they were fresh. What they were now was anyone's guess.

You're dangling your legs off the side of the building, staring at the early sunset. The lands around Canterlot High School spread all around you like a painting. All too two-dimensional from this vantage point. To get some sort of substance, you'd have to be down there, joining the droves of students heading home.

But instead, here you were. At the rooftop of CHS, enjoying what some would call food.

As the radio starts to talk about the third total disappearance of a person in Canterlot City, you hear the metal door nearby swing open. You don't even bother to look for cover. If it was a faculty member, you were already in trouble. And if it was a student, there was only one that knew where you liked to hang out.

“Hey there, Windy!” comes the excited shout from Sonata.

“Never call me that again,” you say with a grimace. “Piter's gonna drag me back to Never Never Land if we're not careful.”

“Why? Aren't you being a proper Lost Boy right now?” Sonata tilts her head adorably.

Your palm careens into a high-speed collision with your forehead.

“No. Just... no,” you grunt. “Just forget it. And don't call me that. Just North. Or Wind.”

“Oh, okay North,” Sonata answers and plops down next to you. “So, what'cha doing?”

You show her the mixbox in your hand and throw another nugget to your mouth. As you munch, hungry glee lights up in Sonata's eyes and she opens her own jaws. Damn. Those are some sharp canine teeth. Was this girl a carnivore or what?

Still, you do as told, and dunk one of the nuggets into the waiting maw. She happily accepts it, chewing the chicken production waste like it was a five-star meal.

“Well? Did you skip lunch again?” you ask. Sonata nods.

“Yeah. I mean, I totally get why they're doing all those theme days. They're fun, I know!” She says, only to frown afterwards. “But Worcestershire Wednesday? That's just weird.”

“You tell me,” you say and chuckle. “And here I thought Milk Monday was odd. Just what's up with this school anyway?”

Sonata leans in like a conspiracy nut, mischievous grin on her face.

“I hear it's because Vice Principal Luna's got super weird taste,” she fake-whispers. “Like, she devoured eight plates of frittata last Friday.”

You snort and nearly choke on the damn chicken nugget you were chewing. The mental image of the blue-hued faculty member chowing down like there was no tomorrow was forever etched into your mindscape. Maybe you should get around visiting cafeteria some time in the future.

… Crap. Now you were hankering for some frittatas. If only there was a sunglasses-wearing housecat here to offer them to you.

“So?” you ignore your cravings and look at the girl next to you. “How were Poof and Aloof?”

Sonata stifles a giggle. Very badly.

“Y-you mean Adagio and Aria?” she asks. “Wait. If they're Poof and Aloof, then what am I?”

You think for a moment, taking a good look at the bouncy blue ponytail and the innocent expression she's wearing. Since your arrival at CHS... hell, long before that in fact.... she's been the only one who's been able to relax so much in your presence. Towering over other students and looking like reject from The Renegade might have contributed to that, sure, but there was also the subject of your soured reputation.

In short, Sonata was either too kind or too dumb to care about that.

You went with the latter. The first option was just embarrassing.

“Goof,” you answer simply.

“W-what!? Goof? That's horrible!” Sonata laughs, looking absolutely not-shocked at all. “You're such a meanie, North!”

“I know, right?” you chuckle yourself and throw your arms up in a mockingly spooky manner. “The evil ex-juvie's gonna call you nasty names and probably steal your pocket change! Swirleys are served before every lunch while Indian burns are applied to all the nerds after school!”

At this point you're no longer able to keep your facade, grinning like an idiot from ear to ear. Sonata's sharing the feeling, as she's cackling on her back, flailing her arms and legs like she was having a seizure.

“He'll a-also whip his supermullet at you if you come too close!” she cracks-up. “R-r-rainbooms beware, none of your dumb books are safe from h-his cigarettes!”

Both of you collapse on the rooftop, unable to hold the bubbling amusement in check. For a moment or two, the rooftop of Canterlot High is awash with mirthful guffaws and gleeful snickering. It's like a release of some nitrous oxide happened all of a sudden, leaving you and Sonata laughing like two people gone insane.

Yet, for some reason, you find it incredibly satisfying.

You haven't laughed like this in a long, long time. Maybe you forgot how for a while. So now that you're gasping for air and your stomach hurts, it's actually a relief. Perhaps some part of your brain wondered whether you were still capable of it.

And you have the blue-haired girl next to you to thank for that.

You'll probably never say it straight to her face, but...

… You're glad you met Sonata.

“Oh God, that...” you struggle to say. “That was just what the doctor ordered.”

Laying on your back on the cold concrete of the rooftop, you stare up at the sky. Winter was creeping around the corner, and days were getting shorter slowly but surely. Even now, though it's not long after the school let out, you can see the rays of the sun turning bright bronze in color. One by one. Give it a few hours, and there'd be a sunset.

“Adagio and Aria are doing fine, by the way,” Sonata suddenly says, smile still gracing her lips. “I mean, they're super grumpy and angry and all, but Aria found some work. So... so we might get some money soon!”

You nod at that. It's good that at least something's going the way of these girls. The two of them might not have liked you very much, but still, Sonata was part of their gang. You wanted her to be alright. And knowing she might no longer need to sleep and shower at school relieved you. Maybe she'd even get other clothes to wear soon, other than her hoodie.

“That's good to know,” you say. “Still, if you're... if you're in trouble with that, I can lend you some cash. I ain't got much, but I get by fine.”

“That's fine, North,” Sonata says, rolling around to her stomach. Her eyes stare straight at you. “We'll manage. But thanks.”

“No problem."

For a moment, the two of you just stay there. Exchanging words is common, even for you. Laughing together is somewhat strange, but not alien either. But comfortable silence? For a long time now, you've never liked to be alone with your thoughts. They were always pessimistic at best, leaving you with nothing but bad taste in your mouth.

Your apartment, full of trash yet somehow empty, was perfect soil for such thoughts.

Yet here, you feel none of it. As you fish out a cigarette and bring it to your lips along with your zippo, you're overcome by momentary ease. Relaxation. The girl next to you is not here to judge you or accost you of anything. She's a bit mean-spirited and awfully naive, but even so, her presence lets you breathe freely.

You watch the wispy tail of smoke snake through the air like a pennant in the wind. It seeks to join the clouds far above. A breeze blows across the rooftop, carrying with it a promise of a chill. You hear some far-away chatter of students somewhere down below. But all the sounds are like from a another world.

In here exists just you two, and this quiet moment.

“Hey, North?” Sonata's soft voice carries clear into your ears.

“Yeah?”

There's momentary hesitation.

“... Why didn't you take Pinkie Pie's offer?” she asks, sounding a bit nervous. “If you were her friend, I bet the whole school'd start to like you. If you hang out with me, they'll start treating you like one of us, you know?”

One of us? Does she mean the trio of her, Adagio Dazzle and Aria Blaze? It's clear they've earned the ire of the whole school. Whenever you see them, they have dirty glares thrown their way. Typical high school behavior. Shut people you don't like out of your little community.

Before you answer, you rise to a sitting position. You're now facing the deceptive warmth of the distant sun.

“I once wanted it. Being popular, I mean,” you say as you stand up, glaring at the scenery below. “Didn't work out. Hell, lot in my life didn't work out. It's not gonna magically start now. Even if I did make new friends because I decided to take a knee before that Fairground Fairy... I wouldn't enjoy it. My 'friends' would only be such because Pinkie Pie 'tamed' me. Not because who I am.”

You glance down at Sonata.

“But you? You started to hang out with me even though nobody told you to,” you continue. “Even though I didn't exactly make the best first impression, you stuck around. And that's what counts. My past, who I am... it's not just gonna magically disappear, you know? Trying to be someone different, changing yourself to fit some imaginary mold... that's a load of crap.”

You extend your arm and spread out your hand, as if trying to catch the sun you're watching to slowly descend. Smell of nicotine tickles your nose.

“We're defined by our pasts. We are who we are because of what we experience,” you say. “Denying that is just lying to yourself. So even if Pinkie Pie was completely honest with her request... which I highly doubt... I still wouldn't have said yes. Because I know what I am.”

Sonata's eyes are quizzical now as she stares up at you.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

You take a step away from her, from the edge of the rooftop, towards the shade thrown by the large dome. You set the sun behind you, hiding from its rays. You stare at the fractured reflection on its glass-surface, and draw a deep breath. From somewhere, music echoes into your ears.

And you start to sing.

“Slave for fame. Come what may,” you start, rough voice piercing the air. “And I forgot. My dues to pay.”

You turn around, facing the sun. It's brilliance forces your face into a grimace, and you press yourself against the glass.

“Told to stay. Here to stay,” you sing.

In your mind's eye, pictures of days gone by flash before your eyes. Of hands reaching for you when you were at the top of the world, only to draw away when you finally stumbled on the homestretch.

“Wax wings burnt. By light of day,” your voice echoes on the rooftop. “Fell on my knees. Where I'm today.”

Once more, you turn your back on Sonata and the sun, caressing the smooth surface of the glass dome with your left hand.

“Told to stay. Here to stay.”

And as the music raises to the crescendo of the chorus, you begin walking, dragging your nails against the glass of the dome.

“But it's my past! Ooh!” you bellow out, staring at the clock face on top of the dome. “Know my past! Ooh! Is!”

Your heavy eyes turn towards the distance.

“Here to stay.”

As you let go of the glass, you're thrust back into your memories. Memories of people, friends or not, patting your back and praising you. But when your steps become uneasy and your vision blurs, one by one those people start to disappear.

“So here I am. Lost my way,” you sing, wrapped in those days. “Deaf and blind. All them say.”

And finally, you're all alone. Somewhere, you hear a metal clang and lock cling.

“Seen as prey. Here to stay.” You shake off those visions, taking in the scene before you. “I'm no prey.”

With strong steps you start forward, eyes glued to the sun. You slip off your fur-trimmed leather jacket. Slung over your shoulder, it flaps in the wind.

“But it's my past! Ooh! It's my past! Ooh!” You step to the edge of the roof, raising an open hand towards the sun. “Know my past! Ooh! Know my past! Is!”

You ball your hand into a fist.

“Here to stay.”

You hold your arm high, staring down the blazing ball of fire on the other side of the horizon. From how you're standing, it almost feels like your fingers are aflame. With what, you're unsure. Determination? Passion? Fervor? Whatever it is, you know it comes from your own words, your conviction regarding who you are.

And in the back of your mind, you almost feel like you're standing up to someone.

Someone your polar opposite.

Next to you, Sonata stands up from the concrete. In her eyes, you see strange glimmer of respect. Perhaps there's more to why you get along so well? Could it be that she's holding same sort of thoughts in her heart? That her reason for not changing is the same as yours?

The reason might be a mystery, but its effects are not. Sonata mimics your pose, raising her hand to the distance.

So, for one last time, you shout with all your might.

“But it's my past! Ooh! Know my past! Ooh! It's my past! Ooh!” You feel your voice growing even stronger. “Know my past! Is!”

Thus, when the music dies down, it's natural you're left with one deep rumble of power.

“Here to stay.”

Track #4: Orange Blossom Special

Track #4: Orange Blossom Special

Coffee and cigarettes.

That keeps on being what you have to your name. At least for the moment.

You are North Wind, and you are sitting on the stone steps behind Canterlot High School. The end of autumn keeps rolling on mercilessly, and it’s definitely getting colder. You retreat deeper into your fur-lined leather jacket.

The cold kiss of the harmonica on your lips isn’t helping, but it’s not like you to stop at this point either. You just let the melody continue, hoping that it sounds at least something vaguely Billy Joel-ish. It’s not the Piano Man, but hey, you’re trying. At least it’s more entertaining than trying to trudge through yet another math class.

Oh did you despise calculus. Thus, here you were.

Staring at the empty soccer pitch and wondering why you had nicked the harmonica you were playing in the first place. Sure enough, this morning the band room was once again unlocked (thanks to certain trio, no doubt) and since there was no one around, you had helped yourself to a discrete instrument to amuse yourself with. Your own was getting rather old and sounded a bit out of tune, after all.

It was a welcome change of pace anyways. Usually when you were playing hooky, you were bored out of your mind, but now you could busy your hands with something other than smoking.

You sigh and let the lonely melody fade away, leaning back on the steps. You expect to get an eyeful of crisp-blue October sky with nary a cloud in sight.

Instead you find yourself staring at a massive amount of copper hair and two skeptical eyes.

“… Oh. The Poofy Haired One.” you comment.

“Never call me that again.” Adagio scowls at you, not amused in the least.

You shrug your shoulders and lean back up, moving your things a little so the girl can sit down. She ignores your showcase of goodwill and decides to plop down on a step higher than you. In other words, putting a good distance between you two.

Distrust just oozes from her. Unlike Sonata, this girl’s not eager to talk with you.

“So? What can I do for you?” you ask from her. It was weird for this blimp-head to come talk to you.

Adagio scoffs and folds her arms. Now that you look at her, you realize something strange. She’s dressed rather conservatively for someone of her… nature. Sure enough, when you think about girls like Adagio, you think of people dressed in flashy, if careful, manner. But this poofy miracle is wearing a simple hoodie and jeans, as if trying to downplay her already impressive hair.

“I have questions. And I need answers,” she states rather bluntly, not bothering to hide her distaste of you.

You shrug again and gesture her to continue while fishing out a cigarette from your pocket. As you light it up (despite Adagio’s annoyed glare), she begins talking.

“This past week, Sonata has been acting, shall we say… weird,” she says. “And it started after she spent time with you for the first time.”

Ah. Figures.

You had expected it to be something to this effect.

After your first impromptu jam session with Sonata, the girl had gotten rather excitable. More than usual, that is. Just about every day she launched a surprise assault on you at school, whether in the band room or somewhere else. There you played guitar while she sang her heart out, until Adagio and Aria came to kick you out.

You had to admit, Sonata was getting a bit better.

It was rather strange, all things considered. It was as if Sonata knew how she should sound to be considered “Good.” However, she simply had no technical expertise to recreate that.

Mysterious, that.

“So? What about it?” You cock an eyebrow at Adagio and take a drag from your cigarette.

The girl shivers a bit as a particularly cold gust of wind blows through the yard, but she quickly recovers with sheer annoyance. Thrusting her finger in your direction, Adagio nearly hisses through her teeth.

“You did something to her! She’s somehow gotten into her head to practice singing, of all things!” Adagio growls at you. “As if we didn’t have enough problems.”

“And you consider singing a… problem?” You have a hard time not grinning lopsidedly at that thought.

Adagio seems to catch your expression, as her own darkens considerably.

“Let’s just say it’s not our number one priority right now. We are living in the school.”

You have to admit, she does have a point. However, you can’t help but to feel like you should defend Sonata’s choice. Remembering what she told you the first time you met her, you’re pretty sure it’s not that Sonata’s priorities are skewed. She’s simply doing the best she can considering how much world has shat upon her.

“So I would very much like to hear the reason why she’s doing something idiotic like that.” Adagio ends her sentence with another thrust of her index finger.

It’s like a miniature sword she tries to threaten you with.

You fiddle with your cigarette and blow a stream of smoke high up into the endless-looking sky. The silence between you two grows ever longer as you try to think of an appropriate answer. You could try to explain why you think Sonata’s keeping up with her new hobby.

It might not be the correct answer, but hey, at least you tried. And that would get Adagio out of your hair for today.

No doubt she would be back to tear your throat if you tried to bullshit your way out of this, though. And you felt that outright making stuff up would be rude to Sonata. After this week, you did consider her something of a friend.

Days at CHS had gotten much more bearable when you knew that there was at least one blue-haired goof you could make music with. It was no longer a total pain in the ass to wake up each morning.

In other words, you owed Sonata enough to not screw this up. She had helped you out, even if she didn’t know it. It was your time to try to do something to repay her for that.

“You know… why are you asking me this?” You look at Adagio with a slightly accusing glare. “Shouldn’t you just ask about this from Sonata?”

Adagio looks taken aback by your question.

Her mouth hangs slightly open, and her eyes are darting around, trying to look just about everywhere but you. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, but you can see from the way they’re shaking that’s she’s clenching them into fists. She’s biting her lip to the point you’re surprised she hasn’t drawn blood.

As you wait for Adagio to come up with an answer, a stray cloud slowly travels across the sky, and ends up blocking the sun. The shade that suddenly covers most of the yard, including the stairs, makes both of you shiver.

Autumn’s showing zero mercy.

Somewhere from the distance, most likely from other side of the school, you can hear the sound of students chatting aloud. Some of the classes must’ve ended already. It wouldn’t take long before the soccer pitch had gathered players once more.

That would be the end of this private moment between you two. Adagio seemed to realize this too.

She clearly didn’t want to answer your question… but she wanted to do it in front of others even less. Glaring at you from beneath her brow, she finally started speaking.

“T-that… that girl is an idiot,” she answers. “I can’t trust what comes out of her mouth.”

You simply snort at those words. She might be cleverer than Sonata, but right now, she’s lying just as bad as the latter did.

“You know, if you really believed that, you wouldn’t put up with her anymore.” you say, and Adagio jerks back in slight shock. “I’ve seen my fair share of hate. Dabbled with it, too. And if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that people who hate each other don’t stick together for long.”

You stared at the happily burning tip of your cigarette.

“Neither are they worried when some stranger causes the one they hate to act oddly.” There’s a slight accusation in your tone.

You don’t want to put it in direct words what you think, but you still manage to make it clear. To you, there’s a bit more to this interrogation than just Adagio being pissed off that you hang out with Sonata.

No, it’s more about Sonata herself.

As you lean back on the stone steps once again, you notice Adagio staring at you with an unreadable expression. Her lips form a tight, unwavering line across her face.

“Don’t mistake me for some sappy fool. I’m not like that goody-two-shoes, Sunset Shimmer. Despite what happened, I’m not planning on turning over a new leaf.” She says and frowns at the mere thought. ”If you think that I’m ‘worried’ about her because she’s my ‘friend’, you’re even bigger idiot than she is.”

Her words sound final. Adagio turns back to look at the empty football field, hiding her face from you. She hugs her knees softly, slowly rocking back and forth on the stone step.

“But… I suppose I do feel some responsibility for her.” She blurts that out like an awkward confession.

You wait in silence, expecting Adagio to continue. However, she refuses to say another word, leaving you with nothing but the distant sounds to listen to.

With a sigh, you take another drag from your cigarette. The white surface is replaced by burnt ashes. Just like her annoyance was replaced with delicate truth.

“So? If that’s the truth, why don’t you just go and ask her?” you inquire. “She might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but she’d give you the answer.”

You hear her draw breath sharply.

Adagio is still refusing to look at you, hiding her face quite well. And to be honest, you feel it would be rude to pry too much. She’s approaching you about this one particular subject. Getting involved in more than you bargained for was always a good way to get burnt.

“Like I said, she’s been cheerful as of late. Bizarrely so. After all, she’s singing, and singing, well… it’s what got us into this mess,”Adagio says, choosing her words carefully. “From the very start when we met to the time we got stuck in this place. From our arrival to our humiliating loss during the Battle of the Bands.”

She lets her fingers run through her hair, like scratching old, invisible scars.

“Songs were always what drove us forward, and they were integral part of us… and still, again and again, they brought us here,” she speaks softly. “To a yet another dead end where our lives a barely worth living.”

The way she keeps talking makes you frown. Sonata’s sorrows were always mixed with her natural cheer. But with Adagio, there was no such buffer. She simply sounded… incredibly bitter. Like her life was simply going through the motions, and nothing else.

“By all odds, Sonata should hate singing at this point. I know I do.” Adagio finally looks at you, having finished.

Her face is a mask of stone, bearing upon it that wounded swagger of hers. She’s just as prideful as before, but something in it has changed. Even you can see that she’s only showing it because she does not know any other way. It could be easy to classify it as arrogance. But you know better than that. What’s inside Adagio is pure confidence born out of her belief in herself and her skills.

Still now, after her face has been pushed down into the mud, that belief is slowly shattering. You have to admit, it takes great mental fortitude to act the way Adagio does, after all this time. If anything, she deserves applause for it.

“You know, I don’t think Sonata even thinks about it that way,” you grunt.

“What?”

You wave your cigarette in the air, drawing a rough circle with the smoke.

“You said songs were important to you from here to your childhood? In that case, crashing and burning a few times is nothing,” you continue.

Adagio’s confusion is clear on her face. You can’t help but to grin.

“Sonata’s not remembering those times. She remembers all the other moments. The ones that actually shaped songs to be so damn important to y’all.” It’s your turn to thrust your cigarette towards Adagio. “Sure enough, we might remember the bad times better, but, you know… good times often outnumber them vastly.”

You chuckle a bit. Turning your gaze towards the off-white clouds hanging far above your heads on the crisp-blue sky.

“She now knows how it feels to be without a home, like a complete unknown. And that’s why she does her best to bring back the good times,” you say.

You couldn’t read the expression on Adagio’s face even if you tried. Her eyebrows are reaching towards her magnificent hairline, and her mouth hangs a bit ajar. So, instead of trying to find more words to pile upon what you said…

… You simply hand the harmonica that was on your other hand to Adagio.

“Want to put my theory to a test?”

Adagio takes the harmonica, looking positively befuddled. She stares at the instrument with frightening intensity, perhaps thinking whether she should keep it or shove it in your gullet.

While she does her best Pawn Stars impression, you stump your cigarette and flick the butt away. To replace it, you fish out another harmonica from your pocket. Both that and the one in Adagio’s hands were blues harps, though yours was much more worn out. Simple C-tuned instruments without too many alterations.

You wave your own harmonica slightly, catching Adagio’s attention once more.

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” She doesn’t look too happy with this sudden development.

“Like I said, I’m willing to bet that if you give it a try, even if in different form, you’ll see why Sonata returned to singing,” you explain.

Adagio takes this in with a face of someone listening to a particularly unfunny joke.

“Really? A harmonica? That’s all well and fine, but need I remind you I no longer have any musical talent?” She says and throws a dirty glare at the silvery instrument. “Not that I ever bothered to learn this in the first place."

You shrug and play a few a notes with your harmonica. It sounds, much to Adagio’s chagrin, like a mocking laugh.

“I’m willing to teach you. Or do you have anything to better to do right now?”

Adagio opens her mouth for an angry retort, but suddenly comes to a halt. She looks around. The only ones at the stone steps are you two. Few students are out on the soccer field, but that’s it. Nothing but the lazy autumn afternoon, some stray clouds on the sky, and your instruments.

Eventually, Adagio sighs in annoyance… and defeat.

“As much as I hate to admit, you have a point. And I’m the one who wanted answers.” Looking impatient, she peers into the holes of her harmonica. “You just blow air into these, right?”

And then, without a warning, she inhales and blows air into a random hole like she was a fairytale wolf. The wailing that comes out the other end is enough to make you wince.

“Okay, first things first: don’t just blow into it like that. You’ll give me an ulcer.” You gesture for her to look at you. “You’ll want to use your tongue to guide the airflow. Place it against the holes and leave a bit of space there, as well as the corner of your mouth.”

You demonstrate what some call the “Hohner Method.” At least that’s what they tend to slap on their instruction booklets. Adagio peers at your face, and snickers at the sight. You have to admit, it’s far from a dignified look now that you’re deliberately using it as a teaching material. Still, you silence her with a well-timed glare, urging her to focus.

She mimics the way you hold your harmonica more or less perfectly, catching on surprisingly quickly.

“You might want to hold the harmonica with a few low notes to the right. That’s what I do. Still, the aim is to find a way that you feel comfortable with,” you say. “Oh, and remember to angle it down to your lower lip.”

She does as instructed, struggling a bit with the unfamiliar shape in her hands. You watch as Adagio, showing surprising amount of determination now that she’s gotten some instructions, adjusts her hold.

Then, without any warning, she suddenly blows air into the instrument again.

However, instead of a particularly nasty screech from the silver slab, you hear a crisp and clear note. Flawless 6 Blow. A-note without too much force behind it.

You look at Adagio with a mild surprise. What stares back at you is that incredibly smug, haughty expression of hers. But this time, it’s slightly different. Almost like… she’s enjoying herself.

“What? That’s it? And here I thought it would take a bit longer to learn. Then again, if a base monkey like you can do it, it can’t be too hard…” There’s a challenging glint in the corner of her grin.

“You learn quick, I’ll give you that. Alright, onto the next part.” You smirk in retaliation.

Teaching Adagio about the scales of harmonica turned out to be almost unnecessary. The moment you gave her quick run-through of the holes and their corresponding blows and draws, she seemed to naturally grasp it.

It reminded you of Sonata, in a way.

But instead of knowing what she should sound like, yet having no technique yet to get there, the situation was reversed. Adagio knew nothing about the direction she wanted to head to, but immediately understood “how.” You switched into the blues scale, and she managed to play it back to you top-down before you even mentioned it.

Arpeggios were even less of a trouble. She looked practically annoyed by the slow pace. However, listening her to play with a reduced pace made you notice something critical about her technique.

“Oh. You’ll want to keep your jaw free to move, not lock it in place. It helps getting a richer sound.”

Without even thinking too much, you reach out towards Adagio’s cheek to demonstrate what you’re talking about. The reaction is predictable. The flash of anger in her eyes and instinctive jerk away from you aren’t that surprising.

What you did was pretty much on par with trying to pet a wild coyote that had sat down close to you.

What does surprise you, though, is that after few seconds of awkward silence and glares, Adagio suddenly leans back forward.

“S-show me.” Her words are less like a request, and more like an order.

Feeling still a bit hesitant, you reach out with your index finger and softly poke her cheek, just under her ear. Then you draw a line on her skin with your fingertip, tracing the edge of the jawbone. The gesture naturally makes her clamped mouth relax a bit, and allows her to take a deeper hold of the harmonica with her mouth.

It also, apparently, stifles her breath, as she stares at you without making nary a sound. It doesn’t take too long for you to realize that you, too, are holding your breath. Before things get far too awkward, you retract your finger and clear your throat.

“See? You’ll need to keep the jaw free so you’ll have easier time to eventually bend the notes,” you say.

“I suppose, yes. Now… let’s continue, shall we?” Adagio smiles at you stiffly.

You nod and bring the harmonica back to your lips, dispelling all the strange thoughts you just had. As you had previously assessed: girls like Adagio were dangerous.

In more than one way.

To keep your head in the game, you start teaching Adagio about various techniques, such as trills and hand effects. To be honest, even you realized that your impromptu lesson was disjointed as all hell. You had never been the one to teach anyone.

But still, throwing your random knowledge at Adagio was like giving booze to local hobos. It was absorbed and regurgitated with incredible speed. It also was just as fun. Seeing the glee in her eyes every time she managed to replicate your techniques after one or two explanations was… kinda endearing, actually.

That wicked, victorious grin of hers was especially contagious. It was like watching an evil overlord experience the joy of learning for the first time.

Before you knew it, the so-called “lessons” had transformed into something completely else. Time had passed as if on wings, and without you realizing it, the sun had made well on its way down the canopy of sky.

It must have been numerous hours since you started, yet neither of you was showing any signs of stopping. Even the sound of students leaving through the main entrance, heading most likely home, was not enough to deter either of you.

Hell, it barely registered in your ears.

After all, after Adagio had mockingly thrown back one of your practice patterns with an added flourish of her own, you had picked up the pace. You didn’t simply play something and have her repeat after you. Now you were doing the best you could just to keep ahead of her.

Weaving licks together you try to create a complex enough melody to fool her into a misstep. But, with a lag of just few seconds, she follows your example with frightening ease. Not even your homebrewn riffs stop her at this point. Now that she had gotten into the groove, hearing something once seems to be enough.

This reminds you of how Adagio had said her whole life had been about songs and music. Slowly but surely, you begin to realize she might not have been using a hyperbole. You have never experienced a learning-pace this fast. To be honest, it was scary to think just what this girl could accomplish if she combined her forces with Sonata.

This past week, you had heard a couple of times some girls refer to the trio as “Sirens.” It was not hard to guess just how such nickname came to be.

It was no longer about teaching Adagio to just play harmonica. Your dignity as a musician was suddenly on the line. There was no way you’d allow yourself to be outplayed by a girl who had just picked up the instrument, dammit!

Throwing a curveball into the poofy-haired girl’s direction, you ease into the melody of Bob Dylan’s most famous song. Something in the back of your head has been nagging about this song the whole time. You take that as a sign and transform the basic tune of the chorus into a wild version that almost mimics the lyrics themselves.

Adagio’s eyebrows rise in surprise. But, just as quickly, that is replaced by competitive glee.

Jesus Christ, this girl wasn’t going to let anything stop her.

You shred like two madmen, each wrestling for the control of the song. As a result, your melodies intertwine and become something beyond the scope of what either of you could achieve alone. You feel like you are drunk. The almost maniacal grin on Adagio’s face is reflected on your own, and you can hear the pumping of your heart give you the rhythm.

… Wait.

No, it wasn’t just that. Somebody was actually clapping you two a rhythm.

Both you and Adagio shoot a startled look in the middle of your frantic playing, only to see a surprising sight.

Sonata, her ever-energetic blue hair bopping along her movement, claps her hands in perfect synch to give you 4/4 beat. Next to her, a certain Purple Stuff is staring at you and Adagio with eyes of someone witnessing high treason. And beyond them, well… it seems you have gathered quite the crowd.

There has to be at least 30 students watching you two. Not only that, but slowly some of them are joining Sonata’s clapping. Most of them, though, look like they have no idea what to think about the sight of you and Adagio nearly devouring your harmonicas.

You are drawn out of your thoughts by the sound of Adagio forcibly taking the lead. The sound of her harmonica nearly drowns yours, forcing you to double your effort. You lock eyes with the copper-haired girl. The challenge in them is plain to see.

Suddenly, you dove into a furious riff by utilizing the momentary drop in the melody as it comes out of the chorus. Well, whatever was left of the original chorus at this point, anyhow. This takes Adagio by surprise, and she struggles to keep up with you. Feeling a rush in your head, you continue to lead her along, enjoying the feeling of victory.

… At least until you suddenly feel an odd tinge of iron in your mouth.

Jesus, are your lips bleeding?!

You see Adagio’s eyes widen at the almost exact same moment, and she glances down at her mouth. Seconds later, she looks at you with slight panic. You both knew it. This had gone on long enough.

Without a need to exchange any words, you both bring your melodies to the end with one furious and short note. The two of you swing your harmonicas outwards, away from your mouths. What follows was a great inhale as you two calm your breathing.

The silence at the yard is like a heavy cloak draping over everything. Only your heaving breaths break it. It was only now, after it was over, you realize that both you and Adagio were sweating profusely. You were exhausted.

How the hell things had escalated to this point, you couldn’t figure out. Still, you have to admit it. You are feeling pretty damn good. And judging by the exhilarated grin on Adagio’s face… so is she.

What eventually draws you out of your stupor is the sound of a single person clapping. You know who it is even before looking.

Really, there was just one possible culprit.

And indeed, when you turn your head, you see Sonata’s excited face as she applauds your performance amidst awkward silence. Next to the blue-haired goof, Aria looks like she wants to dig a hole and disappear into it. Or, perhaps, bury Sonata in it. One or the other.

Seconds pass as the pitiful sound of Sonata’s sole ovation falters more and more, teetering on the brink of quieting down completely.When suddenly, out of nowhere, it is joined by someone else.

Both you and Adagio barely believe what you are seeing.

Not far away from Sonata, your old accoster Baconswirl is hitting her hands together again and again. The taste of exhilaration in your mouth immediately sours. The last time you two met, she talked your ear off about how you were a jerk to her friend. So why is she here now? To mock you?

You didn’t get her.

Adagio seems to know her too, as her expression morphs into that of pure rage.

The other students seems to think otherwise. One-by-one, still looking a bit confused, they join in the applause. Before you know it, you are suddenly the reason for a thirty-plus people clapping their hands together in appreciation.

You glance at the redhead again. Her attention is solely on Adagio and in contrast of your poofy-haired companion’s anger, she looks… conflicted. Happy, but conflicted.

And then, for a split-second, she looks at you. In those eyes, you see the need to say something. Something which goes unsaid.

“Well… I can’t say I expected this.”

Adagio’s words draw your attention back to her. She flashes another wicked grin and winks at you.

“The crowd and the ovation is the norm for me, but… to think I’m actually starting to understand what you meant,” she says. “That’s just shocking.”

“I told you you would. Sonata’s onto something, you know?” you answer.

Adagio chuckles and suddenly extends her hand. She offers her fist towards you.

“So it would seem. Even a blind chicken finds a kernel of corn every now and then,” Adagio admits. “Who would have thought?”

After a bit of hesitation, you extend your own hand. Your fist meets Adagio’s with a gentle bump.

“Damn right.”

You are North Wind.

Cigarettes and coffee are still the only things you have to your name. But surprisingly enough, you had went and gained another friend.

Track #5: Orange Crush

Track #5: Orange Crush

“Huh. This is unexpectedly good.”

Adagio's face lights up ever so slightly as she finally tastes her curry-cooked koftas. You snicker and rip apart some naan bread for yourself, dipping it into the sauce and the rice before taking a bit. The exquisite flavor spreads through your mouth, even bringing few drops of sweat to your forehead. The chef hadn't been kidding when she said the food here was spicy.

“I've been to Canterlot for only a few months, but this is definitely my favorite restaurant around,” you explain. “Compared to the Chinese or Texmex places it's a breath of fresh air.”

Your eyes are momentarily distracted as said chef, one Saffron Masala, saunters across the restaurant floor back to her kitchen, her hips swaying quite a bit. You are returned to the present by Sonata's disapproving harrumph. Adagio, on the other hand, just cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Well okay, there are some other advantages to this place,” you admit and rub your neck awkwardly. “But food's what I'm really after here. Honest.”

“I'm willing to believe you, if only for the taste,” Adagio comments with a wicked look. “Then again, the base instincts of teenagers are nothing to scoff at.”

“Hey, North wouldn’t do something like that!” Sonata protests, before glancing at you suspiciously. “Would you, North?”

“Never.” You raise your hands in your defense. “I mean, look at me. I’m not exactly your typical hormone-guided missile of a teenager. I think I can keep my lust in place to visit one goddamn restaurant.”

“Fine, fine, if you’re so insistent, we’ll believe you,” Adagio answers and cackles.

You just roll your eyes and dig into your tandoori chicken and rice. There was another thing you liked about Tasty Treat - the restaurant you were in. It might have been small, but they had a proper tandoori oven which meant you could get one of your favorite foods any time you wanted. None of that U.K. style tikka masala crap, but proper Indian food.

That being said, maybe others weren’t as interested in culinary adventures as you were. Other than you, Sonata and Adagio, there was just one old man and some blue-haired kid sweeping the floors. Every now and then you also saw Saffron, but her father seemed to be missing. A shame, that. He wasn’t half bad of a guy and you exchanged an odd word every time you came to visit.

Just goes to show that more often than not, you were more at ease around adults than teenagers. Perhaps because of the hormones you were just talking about.

“And don’t forget the atmosphere,” you add in between your bites. “I hate it when restaurants blare some music nonstop. When I eat I wanna relax, not be assaulted by whatever crap is popular today.”

You nod towards the single radio that’s currently on the shelf above the counter. Instead of pop music or traditional Indian songs, it’s tuned in on a local news channel. Currently there’s an article about some Everton program student and her latest scientific discovery. Looks like one of the hometown kids has made it big.

“Ironically enough, that’s music to my ears,” Adagio says with a smirk. “I’ve been to few Texmex places thanks to the ravenous beast next to me-”

This elicits a sharp “Hey!” from Sonata.

“- And those places are all about being ‘faux cultural’. Boring and often annoying,” she finishes. “And let’s not even start talking about that abominable Sweet Shoppe. Ugh, just the thought of it makes my skin crawl.”

“Sweet Shoppe?” You think you have heard of the place in the passing.

“Oh! I know!” Sonata jumps into the conversation. “It’s the favorite hangout place for all CHS students, and where we first saw that gigantic rainbow tornado made out of ma-”

Before she can get any farther, Adagio slams a whole naan bread into the blue-haired goof’s gullet. Sonata seems not that fazed, as she begins chewing on it happily. It is only after she’s digested the delicious thing that she turns to Adagio with a confused look and a shrug.

“What?”

“Let’s not feed North here any more of your flights of fancy,” Adagio says rather harshly. “Remember, he only arrived after the Battle of the Bands. He doesn’t need to about things that might or might not have happened.”

“Oh. Oh!” Realization dawns on Sonata’s face, and she hits her palm with her tiny fist. “Like our deal or how Sunset Shimmer became a total she-demon!”

Adagio buries her face into her hands and lets out an elongated groan of frustration. You try to assure her by patting her on the shoulder. It must be tiring to deal with Sonata’s personality all the time. Even you’re spun in circles, and you see her few hours a day.

“Yes. Exactly that. Now shut up, Sonata,” Adagio growls. “Sorry about that, North. This girl has no brains whatsoever.

Another ‘Hey!’ is heard, but quickly silenced by rice and chicken.

“Yeah, I know,” you say and chuckle. “But I have to admit, all this secrecy is nothing new to me. I heard about some pretty rough spots the school had this year, but whenever I ask about it, everyone goes super tight-lipped for some reason. I wonder why…?”

“Y-yes, whatever could be the reason…ahaha…” Adagio’s laugh and expression are beyond forced, and her eyes are darting from you to the front door.

What is left behind is a stunning silence. You take that moment to get back to your food, only to find Sonata blankly staring at you. She then leans over the table and whispers at you with the loudest possible voice.

“I know what the reason is,” she says, before sneaking a glance at Adagio. “But I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you.”

“Yeah, it might be better if you just forgot all of this,” you answer her. “I don’t want Adagio to murder us both.”

You both giggle and hear the poofy wonder exhale a rather magnificent, and frustrated, sigh in the background.

Once again you turn your attention to your food. You’ve only been here for measly twenty minutes, but in that time, you’ve almost emptied your plate and you’re on your second beer. You did get a raised eyebrow from Adagio when you ordered that as a drink, but since the chef said nothing against it, she let it slide. You were thankful for that. It was hard enough to play a good little student at CHS (and even that you are failing miserably), so you didn’t want to keep acting when you were free.

The air outside has some remnants of the gone summer in it, desperately holding onto whatever measly amount of warmth that was left. The blue sky above is gilded by the light of a midday sun. The people outside are dressed a little heavier thanks to the Autumn, and scarves are already back in fashion. But inside Tasty Treat, the air is so heavy with smell of spices and cozy atmosphere, it’s like what you see through the window is just an illusion.

“Is everything to your liking?” a voice calls you out of your daydreams with a slight accent. “Refills on rice cost no extra, so order as much as you want.”

While you were busy admiring the scenery, Saffron Masala appeared from somewhere and stopped next to your table. She’s wearing a confident smile and has one hand on her hip. The other has, for some reason, snaked its way on top of your chair’s back.

“Y-yeah, we’re good here, Saffron,” you say, unable to help a slight grin. “Food’s great as usual. Compliments to the chef.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Sonata chimes in. “This is, like, super delish! I gotta visit the next time we’ve got money… or North’s willing to pay.”

The last words are accompanied by a sheepish smile, but you only chuckle. It’s true that you forked out the cash for this little outing. Still, it was a small price to pay. It was the first time you saw Sonata outside the school, and Adagio had said she wanted to get to know you a little better. Seeing that you wanted to talk to the copperhead as well, it seemed like a small price to pay.

Aria, unsurprisingly, had vehemently refused to come. Looks like she still sees you as a vermin of some sort.

“Indeed, compliments to the chef,” Adagio repeats, causing Saffron to blush a bit. “It’s been awhile since we’ve had anything this good.”

“Oh, that’s great to hear! We try our best to bring North Indian cuisine here, let people taste just what sort of dishes I grew up with,” Saffron answers. “Looks like we made the right decision not to quit after all.”

“You were about to quit?” Adagio asks while wiping her mouth with a napkin.

“Yes, but we were helped by some friends to realize just why we started this restaurant in the first place,” the chef says and giggles. “And what do you know, just the next day North here walks in to eat enough for five people. That really boosted our spirits.”

Saffron grins and peers down at your face. For some reason, you suddenly find the bowl of raita on the table damn interesting. The wonders of Indian cuisine, to be sure.

“Afterwards North became our loyal customer. And now he brought friends to eat!” Saffron beams at you. “I think we’ll have to up the size of our servings for you so you’ll keep coming here.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” you say and nudge her with your elbow. “From decor to food to chef, everything in this place is just how I like it. I’m already considering Tasty Treat my home base, so to speak.”

Saffron chuckles at your words and pats you on the shoulder. To your surprise, her hand stays there as she turns her attention towards the girls. A whiff of an exotic perfume enters your nose.

“If you need anything else, just let me know,” she says with confidence. “Friends of North are always welcome here.”

Having said that, Saffron takes her leave towards the kitchen once more. Her fingers draw a line on your shoulder before separating from it. Flashing one last smile to your direction, she walks away. With a swing of the wooden door, she disappears from sight again. You scratch your head, bit befuddled, before turning towards your companions.

You immediately grimace. This wasn’t good.

Sonata is wearing, for some unholy reason, a pout so magnificent you have hard time believing it. Arms folded, she looks like she’s absolutely cross with you. Adagio is not much better. Her grin is approaching criminal levels in its intent, like she had found something amusing and was going to cruelly milk it for all the fun that could be gotten.

“Oh, I think I know exactly why you keep coming here,” the copperhead laughs. “Not many would get a welcome that warm from the owner’s daughter. Looks like Saffron Masala’s taken quite a liking to you.”

“It’s n-not that, God. Get your mind out of the gutter,” you sputter, frowning at the two. “We’re just being nice to each other.”

“Yes, very nice. I can see that.”

You bury your frustrated groan into some more naan bread. The quicker you’d get out of this conversation, the better. Adagio was having far too much fun at your expense, while Sonata was turning sour enough to resemble Aria.

“So tell me, North Wind…” Adagio suddenly says, pushing aside her plate. “Just when did you arrive here, exactly? The first time I saw you was in the band room, but from what I’ve gathered, you’ve been here a little longer than that.”

Her eyes narrow a bit as she studies your face. You’re feeling a bit like a field mouse on that fateful day in Hiroshima.

“Not to mention it’s not often that someone moves into a sleepy little city like Canterlot out of the blue,” she adds. “I’m interested in hearing more about you.”

You hum and take a swig of your beer, trying to come up with some clever answer. It’s not that your story was particularly interesting. Still, you didn’t exactly want all the students of CHS to know about it. Baconswirl had done enough damage with her blabbering. You weren’t exactly sure how trustworthy, in the end, these girls were.

“Well, let’s see…” you say and stretch a bit. “I came at the end of September, so I had been in CHS for about two weeks before I ran into Sonata. Used to live to east, in the Great Plains region. As for the reason why I came, well… I guess you heard that I was in juvie?”

Both of the girls nod in unison. Figures. Probably everybody in the damn city knew about it already.

“I spent a little over a year there, and when I got out, I figured a change of scenery was in order,” you explain. “So I took an offer from my uncle and moved here. Got my own apartment, transferred to CHS, and, well… rest is as you know.”

“Ooh, you have an uncle here?” Sonata asks with a grin.

“Yeah, from my old man’s side. Bobby Pin. He lives on the outskirts of the town, working on those machines of his,” you answer. “Decent enough old coot, if you can get past the thick layer of hick and booze. Used to visit him during summers of the past, so it’s not like Canterlot City’s too alien to me. Not that I remember much of those times.”

This seems to pique Adagio’s interest, as she folds her arms and leans back on her seat, gaze running across your body. Why was she sizing you up now?

“Hick, you say… I guess that explains why you dress the way you do,” she says with a smirk. “I did wonder what was wrong with your fashion sense.”

“Hey! I think North looks cool, for realsies!” Sonata protests and grins at you. “He’s just like his name.”

You grimace and look down at your clothes. The girls weren’t exactly wrong. Leather jacket with a fur-trim, hoodie, jeans and big boots, you looked like you belonged to an episode of Dog - The Bounty Hunter. Things weren’t helped by the fact that your hat of choice to cover your ever-growing mullet was a black beanie, if even that.

But… it was your style, nonetheless. One you weren’t about to change.

“Hey, don’t sell me short, Poof,” you say and grin wickedly at Adagio. “I don’t think you get all there is to it to how I roll.”

Amused Adagio rolls her eyes.

“Well, enlighten us then. I’m so terribly interested,” she sneers.

You hop off your seat and slide over to the counter where the old man is snoring against the mahogany table. You wake him up by slamming a couple of bucks next to him, and then proceed to whisper something in his ear. His eyes light up and he nods, picking up the banjo next to him.

You then walk over to the blue-haired guy, roughly your age, who has been sweeping the floors all this time. He looks a bit shocked you’re approaching him, but a couple of words and some money exchanged, and he’s in your plan.

With all of it set, you spin around and shoot a challenging look at Adagio.

“Alright, Miss Doubtfire. Give me a couple of blues licks with vibrato, pronto,” you say to her. “You brought the harmonica I gave you, right?”

For a moment, Adagio’s face seems to waver somewhere between flabbergasted and ready to walk out of this joint. But by your urging, she finally lets out a frustrated groan and digs up the instrument from her pocket. Under Sonata’s curious stare, she takes some deep breaths, glances at you, and then shoots a wailing, melodic sound that lights up the restaurant.

That’s the cue. Next to the counter, a banjo comes alive. You stomp your feet to kick off the rhythm, clap your hands to keep it up and fill the room with sudden music.

And then you start singing.

“Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho!” You holler, and behind you, you see the blue-haired guy rev up the guitar he got from his locker. “Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho!”

You lean on the table where the girls sit, and take a great big swig of your beer.

“I'm wasted, yeah!” You sing and let out a massive belch. “Don't mind the gas. A leather-clad jackass, actin' like an ass. Riding up and down on my dad's old chopper, filling up my fingers with rings of copper.”

With a spin you’re back on the floor of the restaurant, your stomp and clapping keeping you to the rhythm. You grin as you see Sonata start parroting you, mouthing the words to the best of her abilities.

“No matter where I am I ain't acting proper. Soul channeling the spirit of an OG Rocker,” you continue to the redneck tune. “My night on the town is the American Bash! So watch me now, I'm the Great White Trash!”

And with that, you bring everything to the chorus. Even Adagio senses it, as she joins the melody with a riff from her harmonica.

“Ah! I am! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho!” you holler and chuckle. “I'm the Great White Trash! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho!”

Having heard the music, Saffron Masala peeks out of the kitchen to see its source. You wink at her and slide to the counter, slamming your hands against the wooden surface for deeper beat.

“I'm a rambler, a gambler with ugly tats. I'm daydreaming 'bout cheerleader brats,” you begin the second verse. “I'm redneck Bueller with all days off. Whose dream is girl in a biker cut-off.”

Nodding her head to the music, Saffron joins everyone in the main room, adding the sound of her own feet to the rhythm.

“Loving and fighting with a mudhole stomp. Tailgate party at the swamp,” you sing and slide back to the table where Adagio and Sonata are. “What's in my veins, yes it's true! Red and white and Oh – Pabts Blue!”

Sonata jumps up from her spot and together you take to the floor, feet keeping up the pace as the old man picks his banjo with a toothy smile.

“I came here just raise to some hell. Shut up and hear the rebel yell!” You sing and nudge Sonata with your elbow. “Be my girl, your stocks will crash! It's a day in the life of the Great White Trash!”

With a laugh you move yet again to the chorus, with the whole restaurant now in on your song. This time the blue-haired goof is even able to back you up in the vocals.

“Ah! I am! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho!” You twirl around and lift your jacket. “I'm the Great White Trash! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho!”

As the blue-haired dude begins the guitar solo, his fingers flying on the strings, you turn towards Adagio. Behind you is the rocking cry of a stratocaster as the part-timer unleashes his best. But you? Your attention is on the copperhead grinning at you.

“So?” Adagio asks. “That’s who you are? A regular redneck?”

“Not just a regular one, a true blue trailer park hick,” you answer her with a sneer. “We can’t all be city born and bred.”

“I don’t mind,” she says and chuckles. “In this town, it’s a breath of fresh air, frankly.”

Joining in her laugh, you get back to the stomping and start your lyrics once more.

“It ain't a great secret how to live this life! Dance on the edge of a broken knife!” You sing and point at Sonata. “Grow your hair and just mimic me! And walk around the school like an S.O.B!”

Side to side with Sonata and Saffron, your feet perform something of a dance as they pound the floor, your hands striking against each other like best of drums.

“Gather to the quarry, fly the Old Glory. Open up a can, that's my whole life story,” you bellow out. “Hold it steady! Keep it ready! Be a loose cannon like you're Ol' R. Teddy!”

Together with the guitar, the banjo and the harmonica, you’re able to bring the third verse to the exhilarating last stretch.

“It's a great loss Betsy Ross ain't waving. So cross any boss and that denies your drinking,” you continue. “You won't grow moss if you're a shameless ass! So come join the pack of the Great White Trash!”

And this time, it’s everyone in the restaurant that shouts out the chorus.

“Ah! I am! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho! I'm the Great White Trash!” You lead them like a redneck conductor. “Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho! Ah! Hi-ho! I'm the Great White Trash!”

With that, the situation quickly devolve into laughing and applause as the old man and the part-timer wind down the song the best they can. Sonata’s giggling and leaning on you, while Adagio is grinning wickedly from ear to ear. Though something in her eyes tells you that she saw right through your diversion tactic.

Yes, even you admit it to yourself. You only started singing because you wanted to move from topics you’d rather not be talking about.

You give quiet thumbs up to the guys who helped you with the backing track and high-five Saffron as she shuffles back to the kitchen. You then take a seat at the table with Sonata, wiping sweat from your forehead. You are met with approving expression from Adagio.

“Not bad, not bad,” she hums quietly. “You certainly showed me there was more to your… style than just what met the eye.”

You nod and gulp down the last of the beer that was waiting for you. For a moment, nothing but the surface of the foamy, gold liquid fills your vision.

But as you slam the pint down, you’re met with narrowed eyes from the copperhead. Immediately, you tense up.

“That being said…” she starts. “I have to say, that song sounded vaguely familiar. Especially when sung by you.”

Internally you curse your thoughtlessness. Of course this place would have indie music scene. Perhaps even a radio station.

“Eh, there are probably hundreds like it,” you come up with a quick excuse. “That was just a spur of a moment thing, really.”

Adagio says nothing, but you can see that she’s not believing you. Sonata’s goofy grin tells she bought it hook, line and rod, but her far more devious friend?

You were afraid that you might have just made Adagio even more suspicious.

Track #7: Purple Rain

Track #7: Purple Rain

Showering rain keeps beating the sidewalk as you mutter some well-chosen curses under your breath, darting across the parking lot towards the inviting doors of CHS. Just your luck. Here you were, just finished with your day of truancy, and you were assaulted by an evening shower of epic proportions. Northern California was suffering from a lot of rain this year, and you could just hope it meant some snow later in the year. Snow you liked. Rain? It was in the same category as ABBA.

Well, you say truancy, but it was closer to catching some Z’s after lunch under the bleachers and then completely ignoring the wake-up call from your cellphone. Hell, it was late evening right now, and school had been out for hours.

The reason you knew you’d be able to dry yourself in the school, though? The lights were on in the bandroom. With Adagio and Sonata on your side, you were sure even Aria wouldn’t mind you stopping by for a moment.

You walk up the stairs and test the handles of the main door. Seeing them unlocked was a pleasant surprise. You knew the girls liked to leave them open since they needed to stop by grocery store every now and then, and going in and out of a window would’ve been too much of a hassle.

How they had disarmed the alarm system, that was anyone’s guess.

What isn’t a pleasant surprise, however, was the fact that the moment you slip into the empty lobby of the school, you ears are assaulted by a sweet melody of a saxophone blaring from the speakers around the building.

“The hell…?” You mutter, unable to comprehend the situation for a moment.

No, it’s not just saxophone. It’s an actual song that reverberates through the school’s corridors, bouncing from wall to wall and from classroom to classroom. 80’s synthesizer and deep bass-line, topped by relaxed drum beat and lounge guitar. Oh ye Gods of misfortune, you knew what this song was. It was something to haunt your deepest nightmares on those lonely nights where there was nothing but you and a bottle of whiskey. It was the song of night-time drive from state to another, moving what measly luggage you had to a new home. It was the song you had first heard… in a middle school disco, oh so many years ago.

It was your greatest guilty pleasure.

Your eyes scan the perimeter, trying to see if anyone was there to spot you. The music was loud enough that the girls must not have heard you close the main door. There was no one in the lobby, all the lights were off (sans the band room) and nothing moved. Nothing except you.

The coast was clear. There was no reason to keep up any sort of act anymore.

You could act just as you damn well pleased.

Instinctively, your right foot takes a step forward. You slide across the lobby floor with slight swing your movement, bringing your hand upwards. To the rhythm, you caress the air as you walk few steps backwards, mouthing the words of the song. Ass bouncing from left to right, you spin around and strut towards the corridor like you were on a runway. Another sliding step, your fingers touching softly the surface of the lockers.

This was just bizarre. It was like you had this whole empty school to yourself, along with the song. Hands above your head, you undulate your body. Each new movement is accompanied by a step that brings you slowly across the hallway floor. No lights, no noise. Just the light of the street lamps outside, pouring as spotlights through the few sparse windows to the outside world.

You throw your head backwards, arching your back. Pumping motion of your waist is followed by another slow pirouette. Legs spread, hands clap and you snap into an attention. Your fingers form a gun that you point towards the ceiling before aiming it slowly downwards in a sweeping arc.From there, it’s a motion like water, drowning towards the floor. You stand again, throwing your hands to the sides before your legs take you ever deeper into the building. Using your heels, you turn your back toward your destination.

Your best moonwalk impression is horrible. But no one is here to judge.

It’s like you are waltzing with yourself, palm against your heart and other touching the top of your head. You boots tap against the floor and your whole body bounces ever so slightly thanks to the music. Like a drug, it permeates into your body and takes complete control. The spots on the sides of your head itch pleasantly as you succumb to the tune. It feels so refreshing. Simply letting go momentarily, shaking off all the stress of the last few weeks. Just dancing. You, and nobody else.

If there was anyone else, you’d strangle them then and there.

From one dance move to another, you make your way in a zigzag pattern towards the bandroom. It might take a while, but you were about to take all the advantage of this momentary respite. At least until the song was finished. Thus, as the saxophone’s cry goes into a crescendo, you add some spring to your step and pick up the pace. Taking advantage of the recently waxed floor, you jump and let your knees hit the ground. A powerslide might not be associated with this song, but you were going to make it work, all nay sayers be damned. And what a powerslide it was, getting you all the way to the entrance of the gym.

As the song’s last notes fade away into the ether, you lean back, arms hanging limp on your siides. Thus, you’re left alone in the darkness of the school, with George Michael’s sweet voice still whispering in your ears.

But as one sound fades, other takes its place.

One that comes through the slightly ajar doors of the gymnasium.

“A familiar? Bah. After all that trouble there’s nothing to eat after all?”

You recoil at the rough female voice and scoot over to the shadows. You didn’t recognize the person talking. It wasn’t any of the students you had met, and definitely not Sonata or Adagio. Then, just who was out and about so late at the school? Another person taking shelter from the rain? But what the hell was she talking about? Eating? Familiar?

Curiosity pulsates in your head. Against your better instincts, you take a peek through the crack in the door, straining your eyes to see the empty gym.

“... Huh,” you mutter.

Had it been your imagination? Even in the darkness of the large room you see no one there. Things are just as unmoving and stagnant as the rest of the building. Streetlights illuminate the place through the windows, casting heavy shadows. Unlike during the day, with all the students, it seems almost forlorn now. Seriously, is your mind playing tricks on you? There is nothing in there, nothing at-

“Hmh?”

Okay, a correction. There is definitely something there. But it wasn’t a person talking. It is a blob of something midnight blue and purple, shining dimly on the floor. Shining and glimmering in the darkness of the gymnasium.

Your thoughts warn you that investigating it might not be the wisest idea, but you can’t help yourself. You have never seen a liquid that looks like that. If it even is a liquid. You can’t be sure, but that odd patch on the floor could have just as well been some sort of piece of fabric. But that didn’t change the fact that it was softly glowing, like it created its own aura of starlight. Thus, after double-checking there was no one in the room, you finally stand up and enter the gym.

Your footsteps echo loudly as you walk over to the blob and squat down to look at it better. Up close, it really seems to be some sort of viscous matter, like jelly or oil. Something rather dense, at the very least. You can see that its glow comes from tiny white particles that dot the substance.

After a bit of hesitation, you extend your finger. You’ve come this far, and this alien substance before you is making you curiouser and curiouser. It didn’t seem threatening. Then again, poisons rarely did. Yet at the same time, it fills your mind with some sort of wonder. Almost as if you are privileged to see it here. Thus, you aim your index finger at the substance, ready to jab it in.

“What, there was someone else here, other than those three?”

Your actions freeze up. A rough voice echoes from the stands.

“Lucky me, lucky me.”

You quickly stand up, eyes shifting towards the source of the voice. There, not too far away, stands someone. On top of the seats in the audience, gazing down at you. That lithe frame quivers with barely-hidden power. The hood of her hoodie obscures her face. She’s thrown a beaten leather jacket over it, and her jeans are ripped in a way that subscribes to no artistic vision. Her hands are in her pockets. Still, even though shadows cover her face, you can see that bestial grin on her lips.

“And who are you supposed to be?” you ask, taking one careful step backwards. “This blob here belong to you?”

“Nah,” the girl says and laughs crudely. “Killed it a moment ago. I think it’s some sort of dream construct, so it wasn’t of any use. Whoever made it patrol the school sure did a nice job though. Was a hell of a fight.”

It’s not until she says it that you realize something is off about the floor of the gymnasium. Here and there, especially around the glittering liquid, you can see large wedges on the floor, gashes like they were cut by claws. Even with only moonlight to aid you, you can surmise it’s some sort of battlefield.

Your mind screeches to a halt as you come to an unpleasant conclusion. You always knew there was something odd about CHS, but this? This is… huh. And here you thought your life had already been weird.

Well, better safe than sorry. Your self-preservation instincts are already screaming because of this person.

“If you say so,” you answer, letting your eyes quickly take in your surroundings. You spot the second door not far away, one that’d lead outside the building. “Sounds like bunch of crazy ramblings to me, but… to be honest, something in the back of my mind’s telling me you’re not exactly human.”

“Oh? You’re quick on the uptake,” the girl says and scratches the side of her head with her left hand. “Still, if you say that, I guess I won’t have to keep acting any longer, right?”

Those words make your spine freeze. It’s been awhile since you’ve felt actual fear. Your fight-or-flight reflexes are telling you to not confront this being. You’ve been in enough fights to now something that’d kill you easily, and right now, that feelings is strong enough to make you vomit. You draw a deep breath and bend your knees slightly. Muscles in your legs tighten.

You can see yellow, bestial eyes, like those of a goat, stare at you from inside that hood. Her tone may be light, but the way she looks at you is colder than anything you’ve felt before.

“Bah, shouldn’t have chatted you up just because I was feeling bored,” the girl complains, clenching and unclenching her left fist. “You’re gonna make this a chore, aren’t you?”

That’s your mark.

Without thinking, you bolt deeper into the gymnasium, aiming towards the door that you can hope to be unlocked. Behind you, you hear the sound of rushing wind as with a single leap, the hooded girl closes the distance between you. You dive forward and something sharp rends the air just where your head was. The faux-wooden floor does nothing to soften your tumble, but you manage to roll to the door.

You throw your shoulder against it. Hard.

You pray. Harder.

And with a great crash, you leap into the harsh wind and rain outside, leaving the warmth and death in gymnasium behind you.

Without stopping even for a moment, you run like a bat out of hell. There’s no place for you to hide anywhere in sight. Before you spreads the vaguely familiar soccer field of CHS, only it’s completely empty now. Even the flood lights aren’t there to guide your path. Grass is wet as the rain hammers down from the sky, making you nearly slip a couple of times. Behind you, you hear a distant laugh of the girl chasing you.

Dead end.

If you had wanted to disappear, remaining in the school might have been a better idea. In here, you could only aim to the woods on the other side of the field, but the predator chasing you would catch you before that. You’d perhaps get halfway across the rainlicked field before she’d be upon you.

Wait. Rainlicked?

You strike your feet against the grass as you screech to a halt and turn around, facing the hooded figure once again. In your mind, a crazy plan begins to form. Judging from how the girl runs, she’s much lighter than you. For once, you could, perhaps, make use of your large frame. Gritting your teeth together, you push your heels into the soft ground, locking you in place.

Then, you raise your fists and take a deep breath.

This might just get you killed. Hell, it most likely would. But then again, so would all the other options right now. And the way you saw it, it was better to go down swinging than to get hit in the back by whatever this girl used as a weapon. A knife? Did she have claws? Why was only her left hand out of its pocket?

“Good reflexes you’ve got there,” the girl laughs as she skids to a halt. The distance between you two is five meters. “Hard to believe you’re just a civilian. Those six nuisances might put up a fight like this, but you? Guess there are outliers everywhere.”

“You know, I really have no idea what’s going on,” you answer with a lopsided grin. “You mind calling this a misunderstanding so we can go our separate ways? I’d hate to get hurt.”

She laughs heartily, and you can hear something rumble within her hood.

“No can do,” she says with a sneer. “I’m already hungry as it is. So just stay still for a moment, and it’ll all be over.”

Having said that, she sighs and cracks her neck. You see her legs tense up momentarily, and you curse. By the time she’s charging, you barely manage to throw up your hands into a defensive position. This girl is fast, inhumanly so. The best you can do is move as quick as you can and hope that’s enough. If it’s not, there’s no way you could have done anything else either.

She crosses the distance between you two in a blink of an eye. You brace for impact, bending your knees. A blur of black fabric appears before you and she swings her left fist straight at you. You manage to block it, but instantly, pain explodes in your arms and spreads all across your body. Like an ice-sculpture, you slide back on the wet ground, hands numb and stars blinking in your field of vision.

Crap. Your plan was a sound one. The rainlicked grass makes it hard to get a good grip of it, meaning lightweight people will have harder time to throw punches. The power of a punch comes mostly from how the human body pivots, and momentum is just as important as how much muscle you have. So if your opponent can’t get all her power behind her strikes, you stand a fighting chance.

Well, that was the theory. You can’t help but to laugh sarcastically. Even if she’s slipping with every other step, and even if she can’t strike as hard as she’d like, she still nearly broke your bones with one strike. Without this small advantage, you would have been knocked out then and there.

How the hell were you supposed to last a whole fight?

“Nice. Not everyone could stand after that!”

Laughing maniacally the girl charges again. You throw your body to the right, managing to slid out of the way of an over-extended arm. You bring your right fist straight to her side, causing small grunt of discomfort. With a desperate step backwards you avoid retaliation and go for broke. Your revenge comes in an unexpected form as you swing your head downwards and push forward, headbutting the girl straight to the area where her nose should be. She staggers backwards and you managed to land a left hook to her stomach area, before retreating another two steps.

Clearly displeased by the fact that you’re fighting back, she yells incoherently and attacks again, her left fist swinging up and down and trying to catch you. While you have no idea why she isn’t using her right hand, you use it to your advantage, trying to keep ahead of her. It barely works. Few hits here and there collide with your shoulder, your raised arms and your waist, and each time its like you were in a car crash. If you took them all, your body would have given up already.

But you give as good as you get, and each hit she does or doesn’t score earns a retaliation. You pummel her body with punches from both sides, going for haymakers when you can. By digging your heels into the ground you give your strikes a great deal of power, and she can’t dodge them easily thanks to the slippery grass. One straight right goes straight into the center of her mass, causing her to bend like an accordion. Seeing your chance, you run up, catch the back of her head and smash a running knee straight to her face. That’s the first time you see her bleed. The inhuman girl roars in pain and you continue your barrage of strikes, trying to keep her down.

Your attacks and hers are like a philharmonic orchestra, playing in perfect synchronization. Each rising punch a melody, each desperate parry a tonal shift. With each attack and strike, you create a rhythm that waxes and wanes without a pause.

Just a little more. If you can keep your attacks up, she’ll go down. If you can deliver another knee or perhaps a cutting elbow strike to her eyes, you’re golden.

… Or so you think until she catches you by the shirt and throws you like a ragdoll across the soccer field.

Your vision is filled with fast-repeating, alternating pattern of sky and earth as you tumble backwards. You taste mud, grass, blood and pain as you hit the ground again and again during your flight. You roll the couple last meters before coming to a stop as you crash to the bleachers with a painful thud. Inside you, you feel flaring agony. Ribs might be broken. You spit both gastric juices and soil, trying to get your bearing.

Your eyes start working just in time for you to see the running form of your opponent descend upon you. With a desperate yell you lunge to the side, striking upwards with your left leg as you bring your right into a kick from behind. This catches the girl off-guard, and your attack hits the back of her knees and her ankles. She topples over, slamming face first into the wooden bench.

A chance. You scramble up, trying to get some distance between you two. If you managed to knock her out for ten or so seconds, you might be able to slip into the woods, and-

Thud!

To your horror, you see one of the supporting metal beams of the bleachers sink into the ground next to you. You turn around, only to see your predator-like opponent calmly walking towards you. Her clothes are a mess and she has bruises on her left fist. Hell, you can see her face bleed from under that hood.

But most worryingly, you can see her right hand. She finally took it off her pocket.

With that hand comes, finally, the murderous intent you’ve been waiting for. It was a long time coming, and you were slightly weirded out you hadn’t felt it yet. But here it is, like a chilly winter morning. Your breath lodges itself to the back of your throat.

“You put up one hell of a fight…” the girl growls. “Guess that means I need to get a bit serious, too. No hard feelings, right? Girl’s gotta eat.”

That right arm rises, straightening itself to cut the rain. It points to the girl’s side, and you frankly have no idea how she’s going to attack like that. But in the back of your head you know that it’s her next course of action. That arm is going to lunge at you. And with it, comes death.

“At least you’ll get to see something outta this world.”

Before your frozen body is able to move, you see something absurd. The girl takes two running steps, as if to accelerate herself. She jumps and kicks her feet into the ground, pushing up mud and grass. Her body rotates backwards unnaturally, guided by her extended right arm. Like a disc-thrower, she prepares for an attack… only, the distance between you two is longer than ten meters.

But somehow, that ends up not mattering.

After all, when she throws her right punch straight towards you, the sleeve of her jacket explodes, and a blood-tinted snake lunges forward like it was shot from a cannon. You hear a yell, a hiss and a roar, the sounds of three beasts merged into one. The arm-turned-ethereal snake crosses those ten meters in a split-second, its hungry jaws aimed at your throat.

You start blacking out before it even hits you.

The attack came out of nowhere. The world around you had frozen, and before you could rewind it, the worst outcome had already come to fruition. You only see the hungry maw before your vision is enveloped in blinding white light. The world around you falters, and for a moment you feel weightless. Only for a moment. Second later, something seems to crush you both inside and outside, forcing your mind to an emergency shutdown.

The last thing you see before your consciousness is taken away from you…

… Is a purple-haired figure stepping between you and the snake.

***

The sound of rain pounding against the rooftop is what eventually wakes you up. Groggily, your eyelids flutter open and you find yourself staring at a ceiling you can barely recognize. Sluggishly, you realize it’s the ceiling of the oh-so-familiar bandroom. The base of operations, so to speak, when it comes to the girls known as Dazzlings. In fact, it had been this very ceiling you were staring when you first met Sonata Dusk on that fateful autumn evening.

Letting a groan of pure agony, you push yourself into an upright position. For some reason, your body is hurting all over, like you went twelve rounds with the Italian Stallion himself. Not in that way. More in the Rocky Balboa way.

Damn, even your thoughts aren’t making sense.

“You sure took your time waking up.”

A gruff voice calls out to you from the shadows, and you whip your head towards it. Immediately you regret this action, as it makes your body scream in protest. Wincing in pain, you try to focus your gaze towards the speaker. And just as you suspect, you find one of the ‘owners’ of this band room staring at you.

There, sitting on top of an unplugged amp, is Aria Blaze.

The third of the trio, the girl whom even today seemed to view you as a mortal enemy of sorts.

“A-Aria?” you ask, your voice sounding like you had been partying with your uncle last night. “What are you… no, wait. What am I… the hell I’m doing here?”

The more you try to think about it, the more you start to realize something’s not quite right. You remember falling asleep under the bleachers, and hurrying to the school to escape the rain. You even remember doing… something absurd in the hallways. But after that?

You’re drawing a blank.

You frown. This wasn’t the first time you had problems with your memory. The times before juvie, before… that… had always been hazy at best. For example, Uncle Bobby had told you you used to visit Canterlot City as a kid, but you had no recollection of those times. But not being able to remember something that just happened? That was new. New and unpleasant.

Hell, you’re even unsure as to why your body feels like it was just in a high-speed collision with a tree. More often than not one would remember being battered this badly by something. Yet even though that is normally the case, you have no idea how you ended up in such a sorry state. It was like a piece of your memory had been just plucked away and thrown into the wind.

“You don’t remember?” she asks, and when you shake your head, she bites her thumb and mutters mostly to herself. “So I’m still not powerful enough to fill the blanks, huh…?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just forget about it,” she says dismissively, before shooting you an angry glare. “Anyway, I found your sorry behind sprawled on the hallway, so I brought you here. The janitor might’ve found you otherwise. In other words, you owe me one, loser.”

Somehow what she said didn’t quite mesh with something, but frankly, you had nothing else to go with. Scratching your head, you gingerly lift yourself off the couch you were laying on. If you were completely honest, everything hurt. But there was no way you were going to show it in front of this sourpuss.

“Thanks for that, I guess?” you grunt. “Can’t imagine what I did to end up like this but, ah… nah, it doesn’t matter. Still, you don’t look that hot yourself. Are you okay?”

Glance at Aria revealed that she, too, wasn’t exactly peachy. Her clothes were torn up here and there, and there was a nasty gash on her left cheek. Even her hair was disheveled, wet mess.

Oh crap. Did you two fight? And did Aria hit you so hard you actually lost your memory of it?

You dreaded the possibility, but looking at the Purple Stuff’s face revealed that it might just have been the right guess. Then again, she might have just been naturally annoyed by your presence.

Both options were equally likely.

“What-ever,” Aria answered, rolling her eyes. “You’re up now, and I don’t have time to play 20 Questions with you. So why don’t you just scram? Adagio and Sonata are gonna be back in, like, an hour or so, so you better not be here when that happens.”

Her tone of voice was scornful, but she had the right idea. Sonata would be worried sick if she saw how you looked, and while Adagio might not be sympathetic, she’d at least get a good laugh about it. Not something you wanted to deal with right now.

You search for your jacket, only to find it neatly spread and drying on one of the tables. You snatch it and throw it on, shivering at the touch of wet fur-lining against your neck. Walk back home was going to be unpleasant.

Though, before that, there was something you needed to say. Well, two things.

“Well, I’m not sure what the hell happened, but… you’re right. I do owe you one. You helped me, even though we both know you ain’t exactly fond of me,” you say, awkwardly rubbing your neck. “So, I guess what I want to say is… thanks. For some reason, I really feel I should say that properly.”

Aria, in a huff, turns her face away from you. Even in the dim light of the room, you can see her cheeks redden a little. This girl wasn’t really used to compliments, was she? She looked almost as bad in dealing with them as you were giving them.

“Ugh, just go. Getting creepy like that is the worst,” she chides you, shooing you with her hand.

“Actually, before I go, there’s one other thing,” you start. In your mind, you curse a bit about what you’re about to ask.”Say, Aria: just now, you said Adagio and Sonata wouldn’t be here for a moment. Does that mean you were here alone the whole evening?”

For some reason, you see the girl tense up. She eyes you nervously.

“Y-yeah? What, you doubting me?” she asks, arms folded defensively.

“Nah, it’s not that. It’s just…” you say and scratch your chin. “If you were here alone, does that mean it was you who was listening to Careless Whisper on the PA system?”

For a moment, Aria stares at you like she was sucker-punched, eyes bulging from the surprise. Then, through gritted teeth, she growls her answer.

“Get. Out.”

You chuckle and leave the band room.

Track #8: This Purple Child

Track #8: This Purple Child

Your tired sigh is like a wispy cloud of smoke that escapes from your lips. You stare at the contents of your locker with a weary eye, unable to quite comprehend how things got to this point. You knew neither Sonata nor Adagio were liked in CHS, but for the animosity of the student body to extend to anyone who associated with them…

… High school was a fearsome place alright.

This was the third time you had opened your locker, only to see an assortment of notes saying all sorts of terrible stuff about you, your choice of companions and your probable ancestry; specifically what sort of woman your mother was. There were even some cruder pictures drawn on some of the notes, mostly involving lots of green smoke and you walking like you were some sort of zombie while the Dazzlings laughed in the background.

You have no idea what that is about, but it can’t be anything good.

Still, the notes were hardly something that you found intimidating or even that bothersome. Honestly, the time in juvie had been a lot worse. The only decent person you talked there was a boy named Trouble Shoes, and even he rarely opened his mouth. Compared to what went on inside that fenced building, this was nothing but cute. For that exact reason you simply pick up the notes, walk over to the nearest trash bin and shred them there. You do this with a cheeky grin on your face.

Returning to your locker, you throw some of the books inside it. You only needed the ones for afternoon classes, and it’s not like you did homework at, well, home. You mostly just arrived a bit early to the school and spent some fifteen minutes sitting in the hallway, scribbling nonsense in your notebook to pass off as effort. And you weren’t the only one. More than few times you saw that one goth kid and her annoyingly sunny friend doing the exact same thing. That or you were joined by Sonata, who had, for some reason, taken to copying down your notes.

That’s another reason why you usually headed to school earlier than most. It allowed you some time to hang out with Adagio or Sonata. Aria still refused to come within ten feet of you, even after what had happened few days ago. That or she was still mad you found out about her love for cheesy love ballads.

You grab your gym clothes from the locker and are about to slam the door shut when you hear something barely audible near you. You turn to look at the direction of the sound, only to find nothing. Your eyes scan the perimeter but see only students milling about during the recess.

And again, you hear that sound. It’s somewhere between a squeak and a whisper. Seriously, it’s like someone stuck a finger in your ear and wiggled it around.

When the sound repeats for the third time, you’re finally able to pinpoint its source. You turn your gaze downwards. There stands a girl with light pink hair and demure expression, hugging her school books like they were a shield between you two. She’s dressed like a damn hippie, immediately earning some of your ire. Her eyes dart across the hallway, trying to look anywhere but you.

Wait a minute. You know this girl. Isn’t she part of the same group that Baconswirl is? Rainbooms?

“Huh? Whaddya want, Woodstock?” you ask, latching her with the first name that comes to your mind. “Speak up.”

“Oh, um… my name’s Fluttershy…” she nearly whispers.

“What? You have to talk louder that, I can’t hear jack you’re murmuring,” you grunt, scratching the back of your head.

The girl before you just mutters something, refusing to look you in the eyes. It’s at this point that you find yourself growing increasingly annoyed. Why is she accosting you like this if she’s not about to say anything? Did she just want to be a bother? Who does that!?

“You know, if you’re not gonna say anything I can hear, forget it,” you say and pick up your backpack, making a move to leave. “I don’t have time to play guessing games with you.”

Just as you’re about to leave, you hear a faint ‘Wait!’ emanate from Woodstock, and she raises her hand as if to try to grab your shoulder. But when you turn to glare at her, she flinches back immediately. Seriously, what’s up with this chick? It’s not like you were about to hit her. Sure, she might have started to feel like a major source of pain in the ass, but even you drew a line somewhere.

“Um, I said… my name is Fluttershy,” the girl says, this time so that you can hear her. “And, that is, I… I wanted to thank you. You know, for last night.”

You cock an eyebrow at the girl. Last night? What the hell was she talking about? You had been back at your apartment, enjoying whatever it was that had been on the bottom of that take-out box. That and trying not to care about the loud explosions occurring every now and then in your building’s basement. You swear your neighbors were some of the nuttiest people around.

“Last night? The hell you’re talking about?” you ask her, peering at her closer, She shrinks away. “I can’t remember seeing your face before, so either you’re mistaken or I’m getting senile. And I’m not that old yet.”

Woodstock shuffles her feet awkwardly, clearly unsure what she’s supposed to say in this situation. You groan in frustration. You hated dealing with girls like her. The hyperactive ones were their own share of trouble, but the shy ones who just can’t go even one sentence without stuttering… those ones always invited awkward silences to settle in.

“Umm, it was out near the mall. I was… I was out shopping, and those three boys kept yelling nasty things at, um, me,” she explains, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “And then you, you came along and told them to back off and escorted me back home and I’m really thankful for that sorry to bother you.”

She tries to bolt away like a hare, but you catch her by the scruff of her neck and hold her up in the air. Woodstock lets out a loud ‘eep!’ as he legs ineffectively plough the air.

Now you were more confused than before. You had saved her from harassment by some drunken teenagers? Just when had this happened? Hell, you were pretty sure you had only visited the mall a couple of times after arriving to Canterlot. And you definitely did not remember doing anything knightly as that. Indeed, if you had ever encountered a situation like that, you would have most likely just kept your mouth shut and ignored it all. You weren’t exactly chivalrous towards complete strangers.

“Look, I dunno what you saw or what happened last night, but it wasn’t me who helped you out,” you grunt at the girl still in your grasp. “So save your thanks. I don’t want them.”

For a moment, the yellow girl just hangs there from your grasp, eyes glued to the floor. Then she sneaks a glance at you from under her bangs. Those cyan orbs catch your attention completely, and for a moment, you find yourself wondering if the girl before you is really as timid as she appears.

“Um, but it really was you. I remember it clearly,” she answers. “It’s because I was thinking afterwards how you always looked so mean at school, but outside of it you seemed really nice and gentle and-”

She might have said more embarrassing stuff, but at that moment a piercing shriek echoes in the hallway. Before you even know what’s going on, a white blur appears next to you and slaps your hand, making you drop the girl. She squeaks again and scrambles to her feet, equally spooked by the sudden assailant.

“Just what do you think you’re doing to poor Fluttershy you ruffian!” the new girl shouts at you, pointing you with her finger. “How dare you lay your hands on a girl like that!”

Ah, great.

It’s this girl.

You knew that she definitely was part of Baconswirl’s little Get Along Gang. Gorgeous hair, gorgeous clothes, gorgeous eyes… and absolutely horrid personality, from what you could gather. This Cosmopolitan of a fashionista always drew attention and eyes wherever she went, and if you were honest (why stop now?) you had always abhorred people like that. You knew fame and what it could do to people, so you had a pretty good idea how self-centered this girl must be.

“Calm down or you’re gonna pop a vein,” you grumble at her, rubbing your hand. “As if I didn’t have better things to do but bully some third-rate animal activist. She was just spouting nonsense and I was setting her straight. Simple as that.”

“It’s not nonsense…” Woodstock mutters, looking a bit miffed.

“Wait. Are you implying that this… thug is the one who helped you out last night?” Cosmopolitan’s eyes widen when Woodstock nods, and she hisses at the girl. “But darling, you must be mistaken! There is no way a no-good, brutish-”

You clear your throat and cock an eyebrow at the fashionista, who flashes a rather sheepish smile and takes a step away from you.

“... Ehm, somewhat uncouth gentleman would do something like that,” she finishes. “After all, you know what sort of company he hangs around with.”

This again? You were pretty sure that there wasn’t a single person in the school who didn’t know by now that you were a somewhat connected to Adagio and Sonata. And not one of those who knew seemed to like the idea. Well, not that it bothered you. They could all choke from frustration for all you cared.

“I know what I saw,” Woodstock says, a hint of force in her voice this time. “It was definitely North Wind. Even if nobody else believes it, I will.”

Ugh. Just what had you done for this girl to be this stubborn? You definitely weren’t there last night, so either it was an impostor or this girl didn’t just look like a hippie. Whatever the case, such ‘belief’ you had done something good when you hadn’t was downright creepy. Plus if the students of this school got to their heads you were some part-time vigilante, there’d be no end to the trouble.

You’d just have to squash any possible rumors right at the root.

“Huh? Me, help you? You have any idea who you’re talking about?” You force your face into a mocking sneer. You didn’t exactly like the idea of acting like a stereotypical bully, but right now, it seems like your only way out. “Just why the hell would I help a squirt like you? You ain’t even pretty to look at, so there ain’t any reason for me to stick my neck out for you.”

You accentuate your stereotypical dialogue by flicking Woodstock on the nose. She squeaks and retreats behind Cosmopolitan. You can see tears forming in her eyes, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. But, you’re quick to stomp that out. You can’t afford to waver now. Who cares if this is just more fuel to the fire for the rumors that surround you? The students of CHS hate your guts already. What’s one more lie to that?

It’s better than the option of them thinking you’ll help them out with some inane problems, or get it into their heads you need a friend. You’ve gotten this far just fine, thank you very much.

“Stop it immediately, you ruffian!” Cosmopolitan chides you, setting herself as a barrier between you and the other girl. “Fluttershy is no liar, and even if she was mistaken that does not give you a right to bully her!”

“I ain’t bullying her, I’m making sure she gets to know exactly who I am,” you say and laugh mockingly. “For some reason she’s gotten into her stupid little brain that I’m some sort of Good Samaritan, so I thought I’d set the record straight. So why don’t you keep your overly powdered nose out of this?”

Both of the girls recoil at your words, and you can see some of the students are staring at you with angry glares. Nobody dares to interfere, though. Not even when Woodstock begins quietly crying, looking like you just broke her tiny heart into millions of pieces.

“B-but… you were so kind yesterday…” she whispers amidst the sobs.

You feel your heart sink, and in your mind you try to tell yourself it’ll be better this way. This way she won’t have any unrealistic expectations of you. You’ll just be the mean ex-juvie the school already believes you are. Nothing more, nothing less. You won’t have to deal with Woodstock and her annoying sugar glass heart. It’ll just be you, Adagio and Sonata.

“You’re horrible,” Cosmopolitan hisses at you.

Outwards, you’re grinning like you’re enjoying it. Inside, you just hang your head in shame.

“Good. Glad I got through that ten inch thick layer of makeup,” you jeer. “Hate repeating myself.”

Behind the fashionista, Woodstock gives you one last glance that nearly screams the question ‘Why?’. Whoever she met yesterday must’ve made her feel like you were just a misunderstood soul. Welcome to the real world. This is as good as you got.

“What, you really don’t know how this guy is?” a sudden, gruff voice calls out to the three of you.

Your surprise is clear on your face as you look to your side. There stands a person you definitely did not expect: Aria Blaze, hands on her hips and a mocking smile on her face as she glares at the two girls. She is clearly enjoying this situation, more than you are at the very least. You’d like to ask what the hell she’s doing here, but for a moment, you feel like it’s best to keep your mouth shut.

“Aria Blaze,” Cosmopolitan hisses, her ire now having a new target. “What do you want from us?”

“Ugh, do I need to spell it out?” Aria grimaces and rolls her eyes. “You two are making a scene, so I thought I’d, like, set you straight about who this guy is.”

“W-who… who he is?” Woodstock whispers, glancing fearfully at Purple Grump from behind her friend.

Aria glances towards the band room down the hall, where you can hear the echoing sound of music blaring from. Waiting for a perfect spot, Aria taps her feet a few times. She raises her right hand, her fingers snapping rhythm for herself. For a moment, you’re unsure as to what the hell she’s about to do, but when she draws a deep breath, you immediately realize the truth.

She’s gearing up for a song.

And, before any of you can stop her, she begins to sing.

“Girls, it's time to see. This guy right here. Is worse than me!” Aria bellows out, pointing at you. “Yeah, so stop the press. This here's the boss. The boss of the C-H-S!”

She turns to look at you expectantly. It takes only a fraction of a second for you to realize what she’s waiting for, and immediately, you start snapping your fingers and adapt your most thuggish expression.

“The good and the bad. They know they can't take me. The word of the law. Even it cannot break me,” you sing. “The tears of the girls, They cannot shake me. If I should say sorry, Go ahead and make me.”

You point at Cosmopolitan and Woodstock, causing them to flinch backwards, alarmed.

“Understand this: To wake me is mistake see. Even my dad, he knew to forsake me,” you continue. “That's why I'm the boss. Boss of the C-H-S!”

Aria continues snapping her fingers to the tune, circling the two girls. For a moment, you’re reminded of a certain story happening at west side.

“His dead eyes all students fear. His mocking sneer and words of jeer!” Aria sings. “Anger him? Well that's your loss. He's the real deal! He's the darn boss!”

As the music dips, you start walking towards the two girls, power in each of your step. Each step you take forward, they take one backward. Around you, you can see other students who clearly look like they want to step in to help, but are too afraid.

“Prowling the streets, I'll make all respect me. Don't care 'bout gossip, your words can't affect me,” you rhyme, nasty grin on your face. “So hate me, irate me, so wait me, expect me. So your shocked whispers are what will perfect me.”

You strike a pose and glare down at Cosmopolitan and Woodstock.

“A man above rest. More than you or your peers! I'm your worst nightmare, a sum of your fears,” you whisper, before raising your voice once more. “That makes me the boss. Boss of the C-H-S!”

You can hear the guitar solo echoing from the nearby room, and together with Aria, you once again creep closer to the two girls. Fingers snapping to the rhythm, you lean forward, advancing like an united front. You’ve managed to drive Cosmopolitan and Woodstock almost all the way to the cafeteria, and in doing so, have gathered quite the crowd.

Outside the window, you can hear the marching band of your school rev up, their horns blaring to accentuate the music. Instead of the typical sound, however, it’s like there was a big band right outside. This is all brought together by the double bass whose fat sound is like strikes to the abdomen.

Once the music reaches a momentary pause, you fold your arms and look at Aria, who continues the song.

“Prowling the streets, he'll make all respect him. Don't care 'bout gossip, your words can't affect him. So hate him, irate him, so wait him, expect him. So your shocked whispers are what will perfect him,” she laughs. “A man above rest, more than you or your peers. He's your worst nightmare, a sum of your fears. That makes him the boss. Boss of the C-H-S!”

Once again the horns let out their rhythmic cry, and you step before the duo.

“I won't be, your shining knight. So what's your plight? Hah!” You slap your knee. “Fight your own fight! Look here, sister! Don't make me cross. 'Cause I'm the boss! The boss of the C-H-S!”

And spreading your arms, you sing towards the ceiling and the sky.

“Boss of the C-H-S! The boss of the C-H-S! Boss of the C-H-S!” You repeat. “Boss of the C-H-S! The boss of the C-H-S!”

As your voice rises to a crescendo and eventually comes back down again, the music that brought you thus far devolves into the crashing sound of drums and fanfare of the horns. You bring your face inches away from the two girls, and give them the best Bad Guy Sneer you can possibly muster.

“I'm the boss of the C-H-S,” you whisper.

That’s enough.

Unable to take it anymore, the two of them take two hasty steps backwards before fleeing from the scene, leaving you and Aria alone there. You cackle at the sight of them, trying your best to seem like you were enjoying their tearful faces. Sure enough, the music was fun to take part in. You were even a bit surprised Aria had started it.

But you took no pride in making them cry. Even if it was for the sake of your appearance… for the sake of getting them to leave you well enough alone and not get caught up in your lifestyle, it was still a pretty dirty thing to do.

The only thing you could hope was to wash away the bad taste in your mouth with some whiskey after you got home.

“Well, that takes care of that,” you say, ignoring the stink eyes the other students give you. “I guess I should thank you, Aria. That was an effective way of getting rid of them.”

You turn towards the girl, only to balk a little at the sight. Aria’s staring at her own hands like they betrayed her. There’s some shock in her eyes. It’s almost as if she can’t believe what she just did.

But when she recovers, her eyes turn to burn with hatred, and she glares at you.

“Ugh, that was the worst. Never make me do that again. Ever!” she shouts and jabs you with her finger. “I’m sick and tired of this even without getting drawn into your pace.”

You cock an eyebrow at her. She was disgusted by her own singing? But wasn’t she the one who started it? Did she just… forget to be annoyed by it? If the other Dazzlings were anything to go by, that might just be the case.

Still, she saved your ass. The least you could do was to try to defuse the situation.

“Look, I dunno what your problem with what just happened is, but… You did help me out,” you say, offering your hand. “So, thanks for that. I guess this makes a second time you pulled my ass out of the fire.”

For a moment, Aria simply stares at your hand like it was a rattlesnake hissing at her. Then, with deliberate force, she slaps it away.

“Whatever, loser!” she snarls. “You might fool Adagio or Sonata, but not me! Just stay away from me!”

And with that, she stomps off, shoulders stiff and growl emanating from her lips. You look at her receding back, scratching the back of your head.

“... But you’re the one who approached me,” you mutter to no one in particular.

Author's Note

Email: [CHS Report #1] has been successfully sent.

Track #9: Last Purple Sky

Track #9: Last Purple Sky

Coffee and cigarettes.

Almost a month has passed, and yet those are still the only things you have to your name.

“Motherfucker…”

Okay, that’s not technically correct anymore. You were also once again the proud owner of the oil-leaking piece of crap directly above you.

“If it’s the crankcase pressure, someone’s going to die back at the auto shop.”

Considering all that you’ve been through today, you are ready to choke a bitch. Instead you wrap some silicone tape around the suspected leak and drag yourself out from under the car.

You are currently at your uncle’s salvage yard at the edge of the town, doing your best to screw up your Saturday plans. Sure enough, it’s not like you had anything special coming up. Sonata had talked about going out for food, though, and Adagio had not disagreed with the idea.

No, that had been left to Aria. Deep Purple was still not a fan of yours, and kept doing her very best keep you at an arm’s length. Not that you minded particularly. You didn’t exactly like her either.

Still, if either Sonata or Adagio wanted to hang out with you, that wasn’t her business. Mumbling vague curses under your breath, you pop open the cooler box, fish a beer from inside and put the lid back down, sitting on it. Throwing a glare at the Saturn Yellow vehicle before you, you twist open the bottle in your hands and take a swig.

Jesus. Lone Star. Uncle Bobby had an absolute shit taste when it came to alcohol. That or his mouth was dead already from the amount of moonshine he had consumed back in the day.

Oh, and speaking of shit taste: it turned out Uncle Bobby was a Ted Nugent fan. You swore this was the fifth time in the last two hours you heard 'Stranglehold' from the speakers.

The salvage yard was empty except for you and the Buick GSX you were in process of fixing. Last time you had seen the thing, it had been a veritable pretzel. To be honest, you had still hard time believing your eyes. Just last night, your uncle had returned from a cross-state trip to get it back to you from your old home.

All things considered, you were indebted to the old coot.

He had gotten you an apartment here, helped you enroll in CHS, and now even got your old car back (not to mention having it rebuilt from the ground up.) Without him, you’d probably be still wasting your time with something meaningless. But now, even on a day when your fledgling plans had been shot down, you still had something to do.

… Even if that was only trying to find the reason for an oil leak.

Heaving a sigh, you lit up a cigarette and brought it to your lips. Sun was shining with a surprising force, almost like a final fanfare before the autumn would give way to winter. It was the perfect weather to spend doing something like this.

However, you couldn’t help but to feel a bit bummed out.

Despite it being a bit hard to admit, you had gotten quite used to the presence of the “Dazzlings.” That’s what they sometimes referred to themselves as. Sonata especially had started to home in on you every lunch break. She was easy to talk with, and that boundless energy she possessed was enough to dispel even your grouchiest moods.You knew that most of the student body of CHS still threw dirty glares at her whenever she drew attention to herself.

To be honest, you had yet to hear the full reason.

Neither the trio nor anyone else wanted to talk about it… and you were just fine with that. If it ever started bothering Sonata, she’d explain things to you. If there was anything you had learned during these two weeks, it was the blue-haired goof was honest.

Adagio, on the other hand, was a whole different beast.

With or without meaning to, somehow your meetings always turned into competitions of some sort. It was almost like she found it hilarious to annoy you and order you around. Which she probably did, let’s be honest. But at the end of the day, you let her keep it up. That smile that rose to Adagio’s face whenever you were arguing about something or challenging each other… it was contagious.

Actually, the poofy girl was master of overblown expressions, whether she realized it or not. Her interactions with Sonata were hilarious to watch, to say the least. And while she maintained that she was merely with the other two because it was convenient, you weren’t stupid. You had noticed the occasional soft expression rise on her face when she heard Sonata practicing her singing.

Unfortunately, while Sonata and in ways, Adagio, had gotten used to your presence… Aria most certainly had not. She did nothing but stare daggers at you whenever you talked with either of the other two. Hell, you had refrained from eating with the trio in the cafeteria because of that, despite the many times Sonata had invited you.

You would just have to find ways to meet with Sonata and Adagio whenever Miss Twintails wasn’t around.

“Goddamn Aria…” You mutter another set of curses and take a swig from your beer. The mere thought of her is enough to get you in a bad mood.

… Unfortunately, this topic seemed to have a negative effect in someone else, too.

“Got a problem with me, dumbass?”

Ah, speak of the devil, and she shall appear. No matter how unlikely.

You don’t even bother to mask your surprise as you look up from your bottle and see Aria standing not five feet away from you. Myriads of “hows” and “whys” keep playing in your head. Eventually you opt to just blurt out a greeting.

“Hey there, Aloofy. Poofy and Goofy not with you today?”

“What does it look like? Now, you gonna tell me what the hell you were mumbling about me?” Aria’s eyebrows are twitching in a manner most dangerous.

Her arms are folded, and you notice she’s carrying a cheap plastic bag. In addition, there’s also something that looks vaguely like a tool belt on her hips. If it wasn’t missing tools and didn’t look like it had been a dog’s chew toy, you might have even called it that.

Curiouser and curiouser.

“Oh, that? I was just pining after you, that’s all. No big deal.” You take a drag from your cigarette and grin.

Aria doesn’t seem to think so, however.Her eyes narrow in anger, and there’s a dangerous red flush on her face.

“Keep it up, jackass, and I’ll show you a big deal,” she growls.

“As inviting as that sounds, I’ll pass,” you chuckle.

Standing up from the cooler box, you crack your neck and look down at Aria. Man, you had forgotten that this girl wasn’t exactly the tallest one around. Even with those legs that were almost criminal in length, she was still David facing the Goliath.

“Anyways, I doubt you’re here to see me. What’cha want?” You ask.

You empty your beer with one gulp and throw away the bottle in the nearby dumpster. Your instincts tell you to keep both of your hands free in the case she tries to murder you out of the blue.

“Have you seen Bobby? He’s the owner of this place,” Aria snorts and smiles mockingly. “Though I doubt you had enough manners to introduce yourself when you drove this junker inside.”

Wait. Aria knows your Uncle Bobby?

… The hell?

“If you mean the old dude in trucker cap that he never washes, then he hopped in his pickup truck this morning and drove away. Haven’t seen him since,” You nod towards the main building, where now only the wrecker remained. “He also happens to be my uncle.”

You add that as if it was an afterthought.

Aria does not take these news well. She punches the door of the Buick next to her while grinding her teeth together. You glare at her but say nothing. She realizes what she just did, and retracts her hand. And while she does not look apologetic at least she’s… pouting?

You count that as something of a victory.

“That old fart! He was supposed to show me some of the ropes today. I’m gonna kill him when he gets back!” she nearly shouts.

Her promises of family-related tragedies leave you unfazed, and you only cock your eyebrow at her outburst.

“’Show you the ropes’? What’s going on here, exactly?” You inquire.

Aria glares at you, almost as if intending to make you the scapegoat for her mood. You return her stare with unwavering gaze of your own. Eventually, after full ten seconds of stare-competition, she relents.

“Well… I’ve been helping out here. You know, assisting Bobby with the cars and such. I mean, somebody has to earn enough money for food,” she says and her eyes narrow in annoyance. ”And Adagio and Sonata are making it pretty clear they’re not gonna take our situation seriously anymore.”

Well…

This was surprising, to say the least.

You knew the Dazzlings had to do some sort of work to keep eating. And you knew your uncle wasn’t above moonlighting employees. But for Aria to work here at the salvage yard… that definitely didn’t fit her image. It seems she realized this too, as she was doing her best to avoid your gaze.

“Well, Uncle Bobby won’t be back till tomorrow, if even then,” you say and scratch your neck. “He has an annoying habit of leaving for days without announcing it.”

It’s pretty clear that the money from this job is important to Aria. And in a way, something about her explanation made you feel a pang of guilt. Sure enough, just because Sonata and Adagio had rekindled their passions for music, it didn’t mean they weren’t taking their situation seriously.

But hearing those words had made you suddenly see Aria’s point of view, too.

In other words, running into some random guy who suddenly made two of her friends act the opposite of what they had yesterday. Even Adagio had said it when you two met. She had started to hate music. For Aria, this sudden change and her being the only one bringing money to the table… well, it must’ve been infuriating.

No wonder she was taking it out on you.

“Well, if you’re up for it…” You take a careful drag from your cigarette, weighing your words before speaking them. “… I can show you what I know. I was fixing up the old girl here anyhow, so you might learn something by watching.”

Aria stares you like you had grown another head. You try to shrug nonchalantly, but even you feel how stiff you are.

“I can even pay you something for the work. I can just have Bobby pay me later. I’m not in too tight spot with money right now,” you add.

The long silence just grows and grows.

It’s a small miracle Aria hasn’t dropped her plastic bag to the ground. However, nothing lasts forever. A new track starts blaring from the speakers, and suddenly both you and Aria get an earful of La Grange. Nothing breaks the moment better than the sound of Billy Gibbons’ voice.

“Wait… you know about fixing cars?” Aria looks a bit bewildered, and you nod tentatively.

“Sure, to some extent. I can show you basics about engine. You don’t have much experience yourself, right?” You ask.

Aria shakes her head.

“So, there ya go. I don’t mind if you want to just hang around and verbally spar with me for next 24 hours. And that’s if Bobby comes back,” you say and emphasize your point by gently patting the hood of your car. “Or we can see if we can’t find the leak in this baby while I teach you what I know.”

It’s kind of a weak olive branch that you’re extending. Barely enough to cross through Aria’s Absolute Grump field. But, having listened to Aria just now, you’re beginning to realize something.

She’s not unreasonable.

She’s just under a truckload of stress.

You should talk about this with Adagio and Sonata later, but for now… You need to focus to the task at hand.

“… Ugh, fine. Let’s do this. Just don’t expect me to fawn over you like Sonata does,” she says and shoots you a disgusted glare.

You answer it with a lopsided smile.

“Gotcha. You’ll reserve the right to badmouth me. I can work with that,” you chuckle.

You then gesture her towards the main building with a vague shake of a hand.

“Anyways, you’ll want to change out of those clothes. No sense in dirtying them here. I don’t think Bobby keeps any spare coveralls, but mine are hanging from the nail at the entrance of the garage.” You point at the place. “Feel free to use them.”

Aria looks like she wants to make a furious retort, but retracts it just at the last moment. True enough, as you pop open the hood of your car, she can see it ain’t in the cleanest of conditions. Begrudgingly and stomping her feet, she heads over to the garage.

However, halfway there, she turns around and throws you a look over her shoulder.

Damn. That’s one evil smile.

“Then again, it’s no wonder you know how to fix stuff. You do look like a Led Zeppelin roadie,” she says.

Blatant insult for the sake of insulting. This girl is not afraid to go for the low blows. You’re almost ready to throw one back just for the hell of it, but you clamp your mouth shut.

Wait. There was…

There was something weird in what she just said.

“Hold on. How the hell do you know who Led Zeppelin are?” You ask and look at Aria, eyes full of suspicion.

The girl stares back at you with eyes of a deer in the headlights of a sleeper bus. She quickly turns around and continues her march, trying to hide her blush. Her movements are so stiff enough to belong to a robot.

“Well… this should be interesting all right,” you mutter to yourself.

Eventually Aria returns, by the time you’re finished with your cigarette. Immediately you hear some grumbling.

“These clothes stink,” she grumbles.

You can’t even argue with that. Years of usage have made them a bit… “offensive” on that front. You turn towards Aria to shoot a snide comment about it, but freeze dead on your tracks.

Shit. You hadn’t expected a sight like this.

“What? You’re giving me the creeps,” Aria growls.

In hindsight, of course the coveralls would be too big for Aria. So, showing some cleverness, she’s left the top part unzipped and instead, wrapped it around her waist using the sleeves. Which, of course, means her upper torso is currently protected by nothing but a sporty tank top.

Baggy, grayish-green coveralls and purple tank top…

Damn.

You hated to admit it, but Aria was looking pretty damn hot in that get-up.

“Wind? Hello? What the heck, don’t just start ignoring me outta nowhere,” Aria asks, waving her hand in front of your face.

You shake yourself out of the stupor.

“Ah, sorry. Okay, good, you’re… you’re dressed up. Now, let’s get to work. Come over here,” you say and scoot over to allow Aria to get a full view of the 455 engine hiding underneath the hood of your Buick.

Her expression is less than impressed.

“Okay, so. There’s an oil leak somewhere here, and we’re trying to find it,” you explain. “The engine itself is a Big-Block one, V8, so keep that in mind. It’s also from the 70’s, so all the horsepower still remains.”

Aria folds her arms and peers at the 455 with tepid interest. Then she looks at you with eyes that seem to announce your idiocy.

“Cool. The problem is, I have no idea what half of this stuff is,” she flatly says.

“… Alright, so we’ll start from the very basics, huh?”

“Yeah. Otherwise this whole farce is meaningless.” She emphasizes her words by rolling her eyes.

After an awkward moment during which you don’t know where to start, you kick open the toolbox next to the car. You fish out a box wrench from inside it and proceed to use it to point out the various parts. Aria leans a bit closer to see better.

You can’t help but to notice her personal fragrance mixing with the telltale smell of engine. To keep your head clear, you clear your throat and begin your explanation.

“Okay, the red mass you see here? That’s the engine proper. The air filter’s on the top, and underneath here, you can see the valve covers.” You round the parts you mention with your wrench. ”And underneath the valve covers are…?”

You leave the question hanging in the air.

Aria scrunches her face at the sight and leans in even closer. After few seconds, her expression clears up.

“They cover the heads, right?” She asks, a bit unsure.

“Exactly. Since we’ve got a V8, there’s two, but usually on straight engines you’ve got only one. In any case, they keep the oil in and the shit out, so they’re pretty crucial,” you answer and tap the cherry red block not far from the valve covers. “That there’s the intake manifold. On top of it sits the carb. This one’s a Q-jet, since with Buicks, you don’t want go less than the stock. No sense in leaving horsepower on the table.”

You turn to look at Aria, only to meet a confused expression. Deep Purple looks at you like you had started speaking in tongues. You sigh and roll your eyes.

“In short, it’s the carburetor. It blends the air and fuel.”

“Oh. Neat,” she comments. Her sneer tells it was anything but neat.

And so it continues. You go over the secrets of GSX with Aria like a second-rate teacher, occasionally throwing in a question or two for her.You explain the parts one-by-one, from the oil pan gasket to the fuel pump. All-in-all, the whole lesson takes a good hour until it’s over...

***

Eventually you were finished.

As you wipe your hands in the old rag in the toolbox, your mind wanders back to Aria. In these three or so weeks, you had taken time to more or less teach all of the Dazzlings about something.

However, who caught you off guard the most had to be Deep Purple.

Unlike Adagio and Sonata, her learning curve was shockingly… normal. Sure enough, she knew the names and purposes of some parts, but other than, she was just like any high school girl.

“I picked up some stuff by listening to your uncle, you know?” Aria breaks the silence, catching your attention. ”He occasionally explained stuff while I helped him take apart some of the junkers here. I guess some of it stuck.”

Huh. That explains that, then.

As you stand back up, Aria glances at the innards of the GSX and frowns slightly.

“So? You have any idea what’s causing the leak?” she asks.

You scratch your chin and think for a moment. During your lesson, you also paid attention to the state of engine. Only one thing really stood out to you.

“Well… one, I suppose. It might be the oil cooler,” you say tentatively. “If the hoses are cracked and have lost their clips, they might be banging on the under-hood components.”

To your surprise, Aria nods as if he understood what you said.

“I’ll need to remove the filter to get to it, though. While I do that, can you get me replacements from the garage?” you ask from her. “They should be on the top shelf. Oh, and get me some 5W30 while you’re it. We can top up the Buick afterwards.”

“Right. Top shelf. Gotcha.”

With no grumbling whatsoever, Aria heads to the garage. This was a new development, to say the least. You scratch your head and look after her receding back, wondering what caused the change. Did she get that absorbed into the work that she had completely forgotten to hate you?

You can’t say you dislike this new attitude.

As you watch Aria walk over to the garage, you also notice something else. Mainly the fact that in those tied up coveralls, her ass is quite pronounced. It swings hypnotically from side to side like some sort of alluring pendulum. You turn your gaze away before you are spotted.

Damn. You had not expected that.

It’s not like the Dazzlings were unattractive girls or anything. You just hadn’t really thought about that stuff in a while. But now… you couldn’t get the mental image of Aria’s swinging derrière out of your mind.

Shit. Head in the game, Wind. Head in the game.

While Aria fetches the parts and the oil you asked, you busy yourself with removing the oil filter and the cooler. You’re just about finished when she comes back. Like you had suspected, this turned out to be the culprit for the leaking. The gasket in the main housing has disintegrated, so the only choice ends up being replacing the whole assembly.

However, instead of just getting to the job yourself, you hand Aria an open end wrench.

“… The hell am I supposed to do with this?” She doesn’t look too happy about this development.

“Well, I did talk about paying you. Want to actually earn that money?” You ask.

For a few seconds, the girl just stares at you with a surprised look. But then, unexpectedly, her expression turns into a hint of a smile.

“Fair enough. Just show me what to do… ‘Boss’,” she says.

And the surprises just keep on coming.It was like you were with a completely different girl compared to the one who had interrupted your jam session with Sonata.

Could it be?

Was the reason the fact that now both you were actually working with something? Instead of doing something Aria considered “frivolous”? What you wouldn’t have given for just a quick peek under those twintails to see what was going on.

About hour and a half later, the two of you were finished.

Despite Aria fumbling here and there, with your instructions she turned out to do a pretty damn good job. With the new filter and a cooler, the oil leaks seemed to have stopped. Thus you put down the hood so you two could sit on it and catch one of the last times this year the sun was shining with this much force.

The surface of the car stored the heat wonderfully.

While Aria sits down, you squat over the cooler box and fished out two beers, offering one to her.

“Want one?”

After a bit of contemplation, she shrugs.

“Sure, why not? I was getting a bit thirsty,” she answers.

As you sit down as well and open your beer, you can hear that the song coming from the speakers has changed once again. This time it was goddamn Blaine Larsen. Uncle Bobby had hell of a taste in music, it seems.

The silence between you two grows longer and longer, broken only occasionally as you took swigs from your bottles.

Suddenly, you remember something.

You rummage through the pocket of your jacket and pull out your wallet. After some counting, you hand Aria a wad of twenties. She does not take it, but instead, looks at you, suspicious.

“That’s way more worth than what I did,” she grunts. “I don’t want your damn charity, Wind.”

Her words are harsh, but you still push the money in her hands.

“Then take it as a payment for talking with me. This silence is just depressing,” you say and give her a lopsided grin.

Aria frowns, but takes the bills.

“… Fine. So, what do you want to talk about?”

You ponder for a moment before opening your mouth.

“You know, I know you don’t like it, but… don’t call what Sonata and Adagio are doing ‘something meaningless’,” you finally say. “They’re not just messing around.”

Instead of answering, Aria takes a sip from her beer, so you continue.

“Adagio told me you guys were serious about music before, but you ended up getting burned. And sure, I can understand that turning you off for the whole thing, but… it’s not the music’s fault, Aria,” You say and stare into the brown glass bottle. “Music’s just a way. It all depends on what you do with it. You might stumble and you might fall, but hey, that’s life in general.”

You take a swig of your own, letting Aria mull over your words. However, you soon notice that the girl next to you is shaking oddly.

“That’s… life…?” Aria nearly growls.

Crap.

She’s grinding her teeth together. In fact, she looks seriously pissed off right now.

“That’s life!?”

Before you can react, Aria yells at you and jumps up from the car’s hood. She marches in front of you and thrust your chest with her index finger, forcing you to lean back. Her face is twisted by anger, and she looks just about ready to smash your face in with her bottle.

“The hell kinda life is that!? We didn’t just stumble, we crashed and lost everything!” Aria screams. “Because of Adagio’s idiocy we’re stuck in this gods-forsaken place with no way home!”

It’s like the floodgates have finally been opened. Looking nigh maniacal, Aria continues to yell so that the whole salvage yard echoes with her voice.

“I hate this place! I hate every damn day here, knowing I’ll never see my home! And the fact that I’m the only one who seems to give rat’s ass about it makes it even worse!” She shouts, her breathing ragged. It looks like she’s snarling. “So don’t you dare to sweep it under just ‘that’s life’!”

You can only stare at the girl in front of you.

You had no idea what sort of effect your words could have. Gone was the cozy atmosphere you two had just shared. Instead, the air at the salvage yard felt raw and numb like torn flesh.

“Aria, I—“

Suddenly, Aria’s left hand catches you by the collar. Her right hand lashes out before you can even react to it. Stinging sensation overtakes your cheek, and a cracking sound fills your ears.

Huh. It’s been awhile since you felt that.

Being slapped by a girl… it never felt good.

“And you…! You’re the worst of all!” She hisses, her voice full of venom. “You think you can just waltz into our lives, talk all kinds of bullcrap and everything will be alright!?”

Her anger now has a focus point. Full brunt of it is thrown against you by her accusing glare as she towers above you.

“What the hell do you know!? You couldn’t possibly understand what we’re going through! And yet you continue filling Sonata’s and Adagio’s head with vague pipe dreams!” She screams, looking ready to hit you again.

Her words have a point, and that point is driven deep into you. Despite screaming like a crazed accuser, you know there’s truth in what she says. You don’t know about what the Dazzlings are going through. You’re just an outsider who got mixed up with them somehow. Despite how you like to think you don’t want to stick your nose into other people’s businesses, you went and did it anyhow.

And now you’re paying the price.

“But I won’t falter. I’ll never fall prey to your self-help crap. I’ll just do everything by myself again, and drag those delusional idiots with me if I have to!” Aria adds, her shoulders heaving up an own.

This close, only few inches from her face, you can see it. Tears are starting to form in the corners of her eyes. Tears of frustration. Aria herself neither realizes nor cares about it.

“So just stay the hell away from our lives.”

Aria finally lets go of you, and you slump against the hood of your car.

She takes few staggering steps away from you, turning her back. From the sound if it, she’s trying to hold back her voice from wavering. Stifled sniffs tell their tale. It’s so pitiful sound that you have no heart to get back up immediately. She deserves her privacy right now.

As you stare up into the blue sky, your mind races.

Hearing that frustration in Aria’s voice has made you think back to the times you talked with the other two. Sonata’s guilt. Adagio’s responsibility. And now, Aria’s anger. They’ve all been wounded by their experience in some way. Despite the smiles you’ve seen, none of them is actually okay. You can only imagine how much each of them is hurting inside.

Hurting, yet not sharing that pain with anyone.

They just cradle it deep within them, hoping it’ll go away some day. But whereas Sonata and Adagio are now trying to heal those wounds, no matter how slowly, Aria…

… Aria simply wallows in her torment. Unable to let go, unable to escape.

It’s just like she had said to you. If nobody helps her, she’ll just do it all alone. No matter how big the burden on those tiny shoulders of hers.

You slowly get back up, placing your hands onto the hood of your car. It feels smooth and perfect to the touch now, but you can still find the spot. It was more of a crater than a dent. Not only that, but you can still vividly remember that horrible sound when you—

“Aria.”

Before you know it, you have called out to her back. She doesn’t turn to look at you, but at least she stops. You think about your words carefully before you continue talking.

“You’re right, I don’t know much about you guys. I know I’ve just gotten involved with you all without even asking. Believe me, it wasn’t my plan,” you say. “I didn’t intend to drag you back into the world of music. Things just… sorta happened that way.”

She does not look satisfied at all.

Her shoulders are still slightly shaking. Whether out of anger or out of sorrow, you can’t tell. So, you press on.

“But… I just want to ask one thing from you, Aria,” you speak softly, as if trying to calm down a wounded animal.

Her head lifts ever so slightly. You take this as a sign, and look straight at her.

“How do you get that lonely?”

Finally, Aria turns to look at you.

Her eyes are slightly red from crying, and her expression is still marred by anger. But now you see something else in it.

Shock.

“It’s like you said. I have no idea what you guys are going through. But… you know, I’ve made my own fair share of mistakes.” You glance at the car, and the spot where that scar no longer was. “And I’ve paid for them, just like everyone does. But that’s just it. We can’t avoid mistakes. We all do them, and we all keep on doing them until we kick the bucket.”

You try to smile at her, but you feel you’re not doing a very good job.

“The only thing we can do is to learn from them,” you say. “And what makes that easier is if we have someone to rely on. Struggling alone is… it’s just not worth it.”

You take a single, careful step towards Aria, hoping she doesn’t retreat further. Your hopes are answered, and she stays still. However, she’s looking suspicious, nonetheless.

“I’ve talked with both Adagio and Sonata. And I can tell you, they both feel just as you do. They’re just doing their best to turn this situation in better direction, in their own ways,” you continue, doing your best to sound calm.

Another step. Another shiver from Aria.

“So you shouldn’t just dismiss their attempts and shun them. They hurt just as bad as you do.”

After few quiet seconds, Aria finally speaks back. Her words are barely a mumble, but you can still hear them.

“Then… why won’t they help me?” She whispers.

“Because they, too, think they’re alone in this,” you answer. “You need to talk with them, Aria. You need to make the situation clear.”

You’re now standing right next to Aria. She looks up to you. The expression on her face is so vulnerable you feel a tinge of pain in your chest.

“You think they’d understand?” She finally asks.

You nod encouragingly and carefully place your hand on her tiny shoulder. She doesn’t shy away from it, and instead, leans a bit against it.

“Of course they will. They’re your family, right?”

Aria repeats the word silently: ”Family.”

The trio you have gotten so close to during these weeks seems not to understand this simple fact. Maybe it’s because of what Sonata said: Because they were horrible people before. But even horrible people have families.

And it’s time these three realized who theirs was.

“If it’s hard for you, I can help. But I can’t be the one to explain it,” you say to her. “That’s the job of you three. An outsider like me has no right to step in on that.”

You squeeze her shoulder gently, hoping to give her some strength. She might not have liked you that much…

… But you couldn’t leave a bunch of broken people like these alone either.

They deserved better than that. Damn all who said otherwise. Blame and punishment were concepts of those not involved in the least.

Seconds pass and turn into a minute or more. Only the sound of the song from the speakers breaks the silence.

However, Aria is shaking no more. She slowly wipes her eyes and draws a deep breath. Then, without warning, she slaps herself on the cheek. You’re quite taken aback by the sight. But when the girl looks at you, you see something new in her eyes.

Determination.

“Wind.” Aria murmurs.

“Yeah?” You smile at her, managing to be genuine this time.

“Now that your car’s fixed… could you give me a ride?” She asks, rubbing the back of her neck.

You nod and remove your hand from her shoulder.

“Sure. Where to?”

A small, yet somewhat nervous, smile plays on Aria’s lips.

“The school,” she answers. “I need to have good, long talk with Adagio and Sonata.”

You were North Wind. Cigarettes and coffee no longer mattered to you.

After all, you had three friends whom you wanted to help reconcile with each other.

Intermission #1: Man in Black

Author's Note

From this update onwards (and having updated the ones already uploaded) the POV character of this story has been renamed North Wind. See this blog post for more information.

Intermission #1: Man in Black

Intermission #1: Man in Black

“I’m worried, girls.”

Sunset Shimmer’s voice sounded weary and tired in the otherwise cheery atmosphere of the cafeteria. Her friends, who were gathered around her as they often did, shot confused glances at each other. Well, almost all of them did. Rarity grimaced internally. She, if anyone, was good at picking up the ebb and flow of social rumours, and lately, well…

“I’m talking about North Wind,” Sunset admitted, poking her lettuce with her fork. “I heard you guys had pretty rough run-ins with him, too. So I think you know what I’m talking about.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” Rainbow Dash groaned, her upper body sprawled on the table. “That jerk got me detention and didn’t even apologize!”

“Dash, you were passing notes about him behind his back, were you not?” Rarity chimed in with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t think you can blame him for everything that happened… though his attitude does leave much to be desired. Just remembering how he mocked poor Fluttershy… It just makes me shudder.”

“And Pinkie, too!” Applejack agreed, slamming her fist to the table. “Ah don’t mean to be rude, but that fella’s a no-good rattlesnake most of the time!”

“It’s, it’s alright guys,” Pinkie smiled, but everyone could see she was somewhat forcing it. “I mean, I was being kinda annoying, so I totally get why he’d be so mean. I’m sure he’s not always like that!”

“I wonder,” Rarity scoffed. “Certainly you could have chosen your timing better, but that gives him no excuse to call you names or make fun of you. Or mock Fluttershy in public like he did.”

“Um, I’m… I’m over it,” Fluttershy muttered, staring at her lunch like it was a way out of this topic. “So can we please, please stop talking about him?”

Sunset Shimmer tried to give her animal-loving friend an encouraging smile, and squeezed her limp hand. Fluttershy flashed an awkward, yet somewhat calmer expression in return. She had been pretty shaken up after what had happened, to the point of never going closer than 7 feet of North Wind. For someone who was your savior the previous night to turn out to be a Grade A jerk… Sunset understood just how horrible that could feel.

Yet at the same time, it wasn’t enough to make her want to completely abandon the subject. There was still something that was bothering her. Something nagging at the back of her mind, like she should have realized it.

“I’m sorry Fluttershy, but there was more to what I was going to say,” Sunset said, glancing at her friends. “So yeah, we all can agree that North Wind is kind of a jerk. A big jerk if he so wants. So that just begs the question… How did he start getting along with the Dazzlings so fast?”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes magnificently, letting out a derisive snort at the same time. As if to punctuate it, Applejack speared one of her potatoes with her fork.

“Uh, maybe because they’re all jerks?” the jock asked sarcastically. “Slimy monsters just attract each other or something.”

“While I do agree with the possibility, I think Sunset has a point there,” Rarity answered, rubbing her chin. “He has not been here at CHS for that long, yet he’s managed to build rapport with all three of them. The three sirens who, after the Battle of the Bands, have done their absolute best to alienate themselves from everyone?”

“Well, you just said it, Rarity,” Applejack shrugged. “They don’t wanna get along with anyone, he doesn’t wanna get along with anyone… Of course they’re gonna click.”

“Is it really that simple?” Sunset scratched the back of her head, sounding a little doubtful. “I don’t mean to doubt you, but what if there’s something else going on…?”

“Y-you mean like… like…” Fluttershy’s eyes darted around the room, before she leaned into whisper: “... Equestrian magic?”

For a moment, the blaze-haired girl stopped to think. It wasn’t like she hadn’t considered the possibility. Unlike herself, the Dazzlings hadn’t come out of their experience as, well… better people. They were still stuck with their parts as villains, even if defeated ones. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that they would have contacted some old ally of theirs to take revenge in their stead.

Yet at the same time…

“No, I don’t think so,” Sunset admitted. “I did consider it, but I just don’t get any echo or smell of magic from him. From what I can tell, he’s just what he seems to be: a boy who spend over a year in juvie, and is now trying to get his life back on track.”

“And doing a horrible job, yeah…” Rainbow Dash muttered under her breath. Sunset chose to ignore it.

“His personality aside, he looks like he’s trying to take school seriously. So that just makes it weirder,” she continued. “Why would choose to hang with girls like that instead of, I dunno, making a fresh start? I don’t know why he ended up in juvie, but this just seems like two steps backwards to me!”

Without meaning to, Sunset had gotten a little agitated at the end. Still, she was just so frustrated at this whole situation! Especially the way her first meeting with North had went. They had started arguing over something stupid while she was showing him around the school and before they knew it, it had blown up into a full-blown shouting contest. After everything that had happened, she still managed to screw it up. Twilight would have been so disappointed in her.

Shaking off those miserable thoughts, Sunset was surprised to find Pinkie, of all people, staring intently at her. The bubblegum party planner took a long sip of her orange juice, those cerulean eyes glued to hers the whole time. Other girls were exchanging curious expressions, until Pinkie was finished and finally opened her mouth to speak.

“Sunset… it’s like he’s you, but a version that made the wrong choice,” she blurted out nonchalantly.

Now all the eyes were on leather jacket clad girl, and she had to suppress a faint blush. It was hard to put into words herself, but Pinkie hit the nail of a problem right on the head. She did see something familiar in North Wind. A lot, in fact. Some students in the class liked to joke how North had dead eyes, but to her, they were the same type that had been staring at her from the mirror after the Fall Formal: Full of self-loathing and loneliness.

An annoying part in Sunset’s brain made a loaded question out of that realization. If he really brought up such memories from within her, just how much of her annoyance was justified? Had it really been his aloof attitude that made her start arguing with him? Or had it just been that similarity that made her act the way she did? She usually didn’t consider herself that quick-tempered… well, at least not compared to Rainbow Dash. Sure she sometimes got mad about things, but she had learned to be calm these days! Still, if someone was as big of a jerk as North, nobody could blame her for losing her temper.

… Unless it wasn’t because of his attitude, but because she saw some of herself in him.

“Don’t read too much into it, darling,” Rarity suddenly said and placed her hand atop Sunset’s. “Whatever similarities you two have, they end at the point where you’ve become a civil and likeable person after your ordeal, whereas he is…”

For a moment the fashionista gestured vaguely, searching for a right word.

“... such a pisse-froid, if you’ll pardon my French.”

Sunset nearly spat out the milk she was drinking, just barely holding it it in. Other girls in the group gave the two confused glances. Sometimes Sunset was glad she had studied other languages of this world, as it allowed her to be in on some of the more… colorful jokes that Rarity sometimes liked to deliver. The fashionista winked at her confidentially, stifling a giggle herself.

“Well, whatever he is, what do y’all recon we should do about him?” Applejack asked, finishing up her potatoes.

“Do about him?” Sunset arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well duh! If he’s in cahoots with Dazzlings he’s gotta be up to no good!” Rainbow chimed him, slamming her fist into an open palm. “Are we really gonna just wait till they cook up another plan to take over the school?”

Sunset grimaced, though she tried to hide the expression. Despite there being no Equestrian magic in North Wind that she could sense, that didn’t mean he wasn’t a possible problem. The longer he hung out with the Dazzling, the more likely it’d be he’d find out about what happened during the Battle of the Bands. And if he thought his new ‘friends’ had been slighted or something like that, he might try to get back at the lot of them. She really didn’t want another incident to happen so quickly. She had her hands full with trying to figure out how magic behaved in this world, after all.

But, as Sunset was mulling over what should be done about the boy, Pinkie decided to speak up.

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry,” the pink girl said and flashed a grin. “North might be a jerk but he’s not evil. Unlike the Dazzlings he’s no villain.”

“Could’ve fooled me…” Rainbow grumbled.

“I mean sure, he might be mad at us but he wouldn’t do something like those mean sirens, right?” Pinkie continued. “Why not give him a chance?”

“I… I agree,” Fluttershy spoke, surprising everyone. There was a tint of new-found stubbornness in her voice. “He might, um, deny it, but… I know what I saw. He helped me last week, I’m… I’m sure of it.”

“Well, if Fluttershy’s thinks he’s worth it, Ah suppose we could give him another chance,” Applejack agreed after some hesitation.

Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, was not happy to hear this.

“Ugh, I don’t believe you guys!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up in frustration. “After all that jerk did you’re just gonna turn the other cheek!?”

“It’s not about cheeks, silly!” Pinkie giggled and patted the jock on the back. “But we forgave Sunset, right? So can’t we do the same for North?”

Rarity watched the two girls for a moment; Rainbow was still fuming, clearly not wanting to have anything to do with the delinquent. However, Pinkie’s words rang true. At the end of the day, being mean was nothing compared to trying to enslave the whole school, and Sunset had turned out alright. She couldn’t exactly deny that North didn’t deserve that same chance. Yet, even though that much was clear, the jock looked like she still wanted to argue against it.

It was… quite unlike Rainbow Dash, if Rarity was completely honest. Weird, even. Like there had been something more to it.

“I… I’m not completely sure about this myself, girls,” the seamstress finally admitted. “While I do see Pinkie Pie’s point, there are many things that could go wrong. While North Wind himself might not do anything, the Dazzlings might take advantage of our attempts to form a connection with him.”

That made the group grow silent. Yes, the problem wasn’t just the aloof boy. There were also the three magical creatures behind him who remained a potential threat. Though their powers might be gone there were still so many mysteries surrounding sirens as a species, as Princess Twilight had put it. Nobody really knew what would happen to them after their gems were crushed.

And worst of all… desperation could be a powerful source of motivation.

“What do you think, Sunset?” Rarity asked, turning to look at her friend.

Indeed, all eyes were on the fiery-haired girl once again. She felt the weight of the situation shift itself uncomfortably on her shoulders. One part of her wanted to stay vigilant for whatever the Dazzlings might try, especially through North Wind. Another part wanted to help the boy, as she knew what sort of emotions hid away behind such dead eyes. Those weeks after the Fall Formal were something she never wanted to repeat, and if someone else was suffering in a similar fashion, she wanted nothing more than to lend a helping hand.

Eventually, she came to a decision.

“... I’ll try to talk to him,” Sunset said and nodded to her friends. “Tomorrow, after school, I’ll test if he’s willing to be at least cordial.”

“Not alone you won’t,” Rainbow Dash immediately replied and pumped a fist. “We’ll be there with you in case things go south!”

“Darn tootin’,” Applejack chuckled. “Whatever happens, we’ll be there for ya, Sunset. So don’t ya worry none.”

“Thanks girls. That… that actually makes it a bit easier,” Sunset answered with a smile. “I get he’s not my biggest fan after what happened when I showed him around the school, but with you there, we might just make some progress.”

After saying this, Sunset set away her empty tray and plopped her backpack onto the table. She started rummaging the contents, meaning to fish out the journal Princess Twilight had given to her. It had become almost a habit for her to write to her if something slightly interesting happened at the school.

However, the moment Sunset found the book, she immediately froze. The more she thought about it, the more the idea of writing about this seemed… well…

“What’s wrong, darling?” Rarity asked, looking a bit worried.

“It’s… it’s nothing. I just realized that if I asked Princess Twilight’s help in what to say to North, it might just honestly make things worse. She’s not exactly eloquent in things like this,” Sunset admitted, and the whole group giggled. “Plus I don’t wanna waste pages with stuff like this. Asking advice with magical problems is okay, but not with ‘boy trouble’.”

The giggling instantly doubled in volume, and Sunset folded her arms, shooting a sarcastic look at her friends.

“Because yes, I know how that sounds, and I know she’d misunderstand. We don’t need to give her the wrong idea.”

“That we don’t, darling,” Rarity said with a mischievous smile before glancing at the clock on the wall. “Oh, is it that late already? Come now, girls. We’ll be late for the chemistry class.”

“Oh, shoot!” Sunset groaned and slapped her forehead lightly. “I forgot my books at my locker. You guys go on ahead, I’ll catch up with you.”

“Better hurry it up!” Rainbow Dash laughed. “Miss Lemon said we’d be testing polyethylene shells again today!”

Sunset Shimmer grabbed her backpack, slung it over her shoulder and raced to the doors of the cafeteria. She gave her friends a quick wave and headed out, bobbing and weaving through the crowds of students. Real-life applications of chemical concoctions made on the fly? She definitely didn’t want to miss that.

***

It wasn’t until Sunset was almost at her locker that she realized something was very, very wrong.

During the day Canterlot High was a place that teemed with life, moreso during the lunch break. Herds of students usually moved through the halls, eager to stuff themselves with whatever was on the menu that day, or just to socialize with their friends. They would pack the corridors afterwards, filing away time till the bell rung again. Therefore it was obvious that even if it was almost time for the next class, there should have been people in the hallway where Sunset’s locker was located.

And yet it was empty and silent, veiled in harsh shadows.

Sunset was not a stranger to weird situation, however, and she immediately scanned her surroundings for signs of trouble. She silently placed her backpack on the floor and slowed down her running steps, opting to instead sneak across the floor to make as little noise as possible. Just about every hair on the back of her neck was standing up.

Oookay, Sunset thought, her mouth a thin, focused line. By all logic there should be people here and since I haven’t heard the bell or any announcements, it can’t be anything mundane that’s keeping this part of the school empty.

She reached for her pocket and swiped her phone open, her muscle memory guiding her fingers to be ready to speed-dial Applejack at a moment’s notice. She knew that the farmer wouldn’t hesitate a moment if she got a call from her and didn’t hear nothing. Others might get confused for a second or ten, but Applejack had a knack for sensing when something was wrong. She’d immediately bolt for the lockers if she thought Sunset was in a pinch.

Just stay calm, Sunset. The blaze-haired girl reassured herself. You’ve got through weirder stuff. Like that time when you got stuck in a memory that belonged to no one thanks to a botched spell. Remember that? There’s no way anything happening in the real world can top that insanity. So just be level-headed, think fast and act immediately.

Reaching the corner where the corridor took a sharp L-shaped turn towards the main lobby, Sunset pressed herself against the wall and quieted her breathing. The hallway had been deathly quiet so far but she didn’t want to risk running into something she wasn’t prepared for. That would have been a horror movie cliché unlike any other.

Sure enough, now that she was close enough and holding her breath, Sunset started to hear small sounds of metal against metal, followed by series of mechanical clicks. It was a familiar noise and she realized that it came from the number locks that each locker had.

Most likely scenario? Something is trying to break into someone’s locker… wait. A horrible sense of dread suddenly ran up Sunset’s spine. My locker is over there! Are they-

She immediately strained her neck to peek over the corner, eyes locked towards the right-side wall where her locker lay. Sunset’s surprise was great when she saw no one there. Instead the would-be-burglar was hunched over the lock of a locker on the opposite side, almost exactly across the aisle from Sunset’s.

In other words, the one belonging to North Wind, as Sunset recognized.

“Hey! What are you doing at North’s locker?” Sunset suddenly spoke out in a loud voice and stepped out of the shadows.

“A-wah!”

The reaction wasn’t exactly what Sunset expected. Instead of a threatening roar or a hiss, the would-be-burglar jumped away from the locker like it had burned her hands. The culprit then hastily looked around before spotting the redhead. For a tense moment those clear blue eyes were locked onto Sunset’s, before an obviously fake smile rose to the unknown woman’s face.

“Noo~oothing?” she said, her odd intonation turning it into a vague question.

“Yeah, right,” Sunset answered with a snort. Her face was the exact antithesis of amused. “It’s a common hobby nowadays to break into schools and fiddle with random locks. Happens every day, really.”

“Wait, it does?” the woman asked, tilting her head in clear confusion.

“No!” Sunset said and groaned, hitting her forehead with her hand. “That was supposed to be sarcasm! It’s pretty obvious you’re not supposed to be here, and you were trying to break into my classmate’s locker.”

Her words were harsher than usual mostly thanks to how absurd the situation had become. Unlike the completely empty corridor, Sunset couldn’t sense any foreboding sense of danger coming from this woman. She acted just like a two-bit thug caught red-handed and it didn’t exactly fit with everything else that was going on.

Even if she didn’t want to admit it, Sunset felt a bit cheated.

“A~ah, figures,” the woman said, tousling her own hair with both hands out of frustration. “First big job in months and I get busted by a fifteen year old.”

It was like watching a balloon deflate slowly. The woman’s shoulders sagged and her whole posture seemed to just slump over. A long sigh escaped from her lips and even her lustrous hair seemed to just lose some of its shine. Sunset had to admit, it was rather interesting to see such a brightly-dressed person to suddenly look so… grey, for the lack of a better word.

“Be glad it wasn’t one of the other sophomores. They would have punched first and asked questions later, unlike me,” Sunset said with a smirk. Shen then took a threatening step forward and pointed a finger at the woman. “Now start talking. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

When she heard Sunset’s voice demanding for answers, the atmosphere around the strange woman shifted once more. Her whole body seemed to tense up and those clear blue eyes of hers seemed to take in all of Sunset Shimmer. Slowly, a soft yet cold smile rose to the woman’s lips and she straightened up. As she cracked her neck as if she was a sprinter about to enter a race, CHS’s own redhead finally got a good look of who she was dealing with.

“Now isn’t that the million dollar question? Or two 500,000 dollar questions in a row, I guess.”

Her skin was the color of lemon and her hair fell as a cascading tufts of vibrant orange and soft pink far below her shoulders. Some of it was stuffed underneath the bright pink-and-white beanie with dangling pom poms she sported. She had a form fitting cyan sweater dress over which she had thrown a pink sleeveless hoodie with a decorative white belt. Add in the warm, white thigh highs and it gave a quite youthful image for the twenty-something year old woman.

What Sunset found odd, however, was how such teenage-esque fashion sense was born from a woman who was capable of such an eerily knowing smile?

“I guess you could call me a private eye, that’s my job description anyway,” the woman answered and put her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “Now gimme a sec. I need to text.”

To Sunset’s surprise the woman, this unknown private eye before her, drew a smartphone from each pocket; one cyan and one pink. Then, showing frightening amount of ambidexterity, she began tapping away with both of her thumbs in perfect synchronization while keeping her eyes firmly locked in those of Sunset.

“And you’re Sunset Shimmer, that’s given,” the woman continued. “A respected student here at Canterlot High School which is quite surprising considering how much trouble you caused this September. It’s quite fascinating, actually! A little over a month and people are already forgetting all that happened, but I guess that’s how the human mind works.”

Cold sweat crept down Sunset’s neck. Where had this woman learned all of this? Principal Celestia had kept a tight lock over what happened on 8th of September, and the whole student body had agreed to not spread information about the Battle of the Bands that happened later that very same month. Now this unknown person implied she knew something about those events? Just who was she?

“Stay sharp!”

Sunset almost missed it. The private eye’s thumbs finally stayed their flurry of movement, only for the other fingers of her right hand to throw something straight at the girl’s face. Letting out an alarmed yelp, Sunset managed to swat away the incoming projectile only to have it then sadly flutter downwards in front of her. She deftly nabbed the small piece of laminated paper from the air and took a look at it.

“A… a business card?” Sunset muttered in confusion.

That was exactly what the woman had thrown to her. The card was deep indigo in color, but the most eye catching thing about it was the logo: a flower of a lily yawning open, revealing a peeking sun with eye at its center, staring straight at the reader. To the right of it, white text detailed information about the office itself, with an address to visit and phone number to call. Sunset’s attention was caught by the name printed above that information.

“Private Investigators Lightly & Brightly…” she whispered, earning a nod from the woman.

“Yep, that’s right. I’m Brightly, by the way. Just go ahead and call me Miss Brightly, I’m older than you anyway,” she flashed her a momentary grin. “And since you’re such a smart girl, Sunset Shimmer, I bet you can also figure that I’m here on a proper job. So stop scowling, you’ll hurt your already mediocre face.”

The unnecessary jab at her looks caused Sunset to recoil a bit and stare at Brightly, flabbergasted. Where had that come from? The woman was all smiles, but that barb in her words was unmistaken.

“H-hey! That was totally uncalle-” Sunset stopped mid-sentence to groan and rub her temples. She’d get nowhere if she got suckered into Brightly’s pace. “Nevermind. So, what’s private eye doing with the locker of a CHS’ student?”

“Well investigating it, duh,” Brightly answered, waving both her phones into Sunset’s direction. “That should be super obvious. There’s been some hubbub about mister North Wind’s wub-wub so I gave your principal a sup-sup but she refused to talk about this rubrub so I came over here after that nubnub to give his locker my own brand of rub-a-dub-dub.

Miss Brightly frowned at the screens of her phones.

“Wow. Try saying that three times fast,” she grunted, sounding almost disappointed.

“Wait, wait, wait. So, Principal Celestia refused to divulge student’s information so you… just decided to break into his locker?” Sunset asked, astonished at the prospect and the fact that she had managed to understand that nonsense. “I think you’re breaking a whole bunch of laws here, miss.”

“Oh don’t you worry your mediocre little head with,” Brightly answered, now twirling her phones like a pair of revolvers. “It’s just that Mister Thrush Hermit here has caused some waves before and we need to find out if he’s gonna stay put and fish, rock the boat or capsize it completely.”

Sunset arched an eyebrow at the older woman. With every sentence Miss Brightly was turning more incomprehensible. It didn’t help that she was treating her phones like yo-yos.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s alright, I don’t expect you to understand,” Brightly said and giggled with a hint of malice. Those disturbingly blue eyes gave the younger girl another once-over, and a cold smile spread on the detective’s lips. “I mean… you are a pony, after all.”

Sunset heart nearly stopped when those words fell from the woman’s lips.

Sudden rush of thoughts entered the mind of the redhead. Why? How? In what manner had this strange woman found out about her greatest secret? Even most of the students at CHS didn’t know the whole truth, just bits and pieces. Those who knew that she was originally a citizen of Equestria, a pony and not a human, could be counted with fingers of two hands; And Sunset trusted all of them not to spread the word. So, that pounding question remained, like a particularly stubborn case of fever: How? How did this woman know?

“Who… who on earth are you…?” Sunset whispered, her eyes darting around the empty corridor. She wasn’t sure what she was searching, but out of the blue, she felt lot less safe.

“Why, I’m a human, of course,” Brightly laughed and pointed her pink phone at herself, taking a selfie. “Class Mammalia, order Primates, family Hominidae, species Homo Sapiens.”

Her cyan phone swung forwards and before Sunset could react, it had snapped a picture of her. The screen of the phone was turned towards her, and she could see her own, shocked face staring back at her. Droplets of sweat were running down her face and it wasn’t because she was tired.

No, it was the emerging fear that caused those droplets.

“And you, Sunset Shimmer, are a pony,” Brightly continued, waving the picture at Sunset like damning evidence. “Class Mammalia, order Perissodactyla, family Equidae, species Equus Amicitia, subspecies Equus Amicitia Magia.”

The way Brightly rattled off these scientific terms made Sunset balk. That couldn’t be right. There was no way there was existing Earth terminology for the ponies of Equestria. It was ridiculous, absurd even.

So why didn’t this private eye look even a bit like she was lying?

“H-how… how do you know all this?” Sunset’s question was nothing more than a whisper.

Miss Brightly giggled, now aiming both of her phones at the redhead, those camera-lenses looming like eyes of a predator in the dim hallway.

“Uh, hello? That’s my job you know,” she said. “I’m the one who always knows. Lightly is the one who always finds. We’re quite good like that.”

Stunned silence was all that followed. The normal everyday life that Sunset had thought she knew came crumbling down around her. Her secret was out. This woman who was clearly more than she was letting on knew about it. For some reason the very same woman was trying to break into her classmate’s locker.

Sinking feeling filled Sunset’s stomach, the very same kind that had appeared when she first saw hints of the sirens using magic. This had to be it, the thing she had been dreading to appear again.

Trouble involving magic.

“Well anyways, I think I gotta jet. Since you broke through my barrier it’s gonna come down any second now, and I don’t wanna stay here and answer awkward questions,” Miss Brightly said, waving her phones to mimic a shrug. “But hey, don’t worry! You’ll soon be wrapped up in your own… I guess detinue would be a clever way to phrase it… yeah, detinue problem. So have fun with that, I guess?”

Pointing those accursed phones of hers towards Sunset, Brightly used them as substitutes for fingerguns. She then spun on her heels so that her vivid hair fluttered in the air magnificently. Two steps on the hard floor took the private eye towards the exit, leaving Sunset Shimmer to stare at her wake.

She knew that she had to say something. Sunset couldn’t just let this absurd moment fade away. Something had happened… or something had started. Whatever the case, there was one last thing she had to know.

“Wait!” Her yell cut the silent air once more. “Just… just who are you!?”

With a sigh Brightly stopped dead on her tracks. Her thumbs jabbed the screens of her phones in rapid succession and then, almost lazily, she lifted them up so that their screens pointed at Sunset over their owner’s shoulders.

Both screens showed a set of two symbols, all which Sunset easily recognized. The cyan phone showcased the symbols for planets Earth and Saturn. Meanwhile the pink phone displayed the symbols for astrological signs Gemini and Libra.

“Get it?” Brightly asked and giggled.

Without waiting for an answer… no, knowing she’d get no answer, Brightly put her phones back to her pockets. With steady steps she walked away from Sunset, leaving behind the empty hallway of lockers. What remained was an eerie sense of quietness and redheaded girl who was unable to truly comprehend what had just happened.

Sunset Shimmer stood there, rooted on that spot, for a good while. In her right hand she held the business card given to her. At some point sounds and colors seemed to return to the world, but she paid it no mind. Her mind was going through hypotheses and possible explanations for what had transpired. However, over and over again, her thoughts returned to that business card.

Private Eyes Lightly & Brightly…

They had something to do with North Wind, and Sunset promised herself she would find out what.

Track #10: Bite the Hand

Author's Note

As the latest chapter ended the Prologue Arc, it's this chapter that begins the Outcasts Arc.

Track #10: Bite the Hand

Track #10: Bite the Hand

“HEAAAAT OF THE MOMENT!”

Your hand flies out from under the covers before you even realize it, and hits the snooze button. Goddamn Asia. That so wasn’t the first thing you wanted to hear in the morning.

Mumbling curses under your breath, you throw off the blanket and get up. You are North Wind and your life used to be only about cigarettes and coffee. Now it was about way, way more; For good and for bad.

Not that it makes getting up any easier.

Only about a month in and you were already sick of high school again. The crowds, the lessons, the fact that you were expected to learn something there. You knew there was a point to it, but you had lost your ability to care somewhere along the way. A good example of that is your apartment.

It’s a veritable landfill.

Trash bags everywhere, half-finished take-away meals, beer bottles lined on the table. Oh, and a magnificently overflowing ashtray.

Crap, you’d need to empty that at some point. But not today.

A quick peek over to the fridge reveals the inconvenient truth that there’s nothing but a half-eaten burrito slowly gathering mold in there. Somewhat hopeful, you sniff it. About 0.3 seconds later, you open a window and throw the burrito as far as you can.

That would have turned into WMD in just a couple of days.

“Coffee-only breakfast it is, then...” you mutter to yourself as you switch on the coffee maker and the radio.

While your life’s elixir begins slowly gathering in the pot, you listen to the news report, but hear nothing out of the ordinary. Just a typical blend of politics, wars and economic troubles topped with a dash of local disappearances.

You swear this was the fifth time you had heard this exactly same report, with only the names switched around. World really trudged in the mud of time, sometimes. The black-and-white clock on the wall, though, mercilessly marches on.

Eventually, you have a steaming cup of boiling hot coffee before you. As you do your best to whittle it down with small sips, you light up the first cigarette of the day. Immediately, you can feel the phlegm in your throat start clearing up.

It was like Mentos. The only difference was that it tasted like ash and death. Such a freshmaker.

Indeed. Nicotine and caffeine. The breakfast of winners. You could only imagine the horrified expression Sonata would make if she knew.

“And that’s why she shall never know.”

As the morning rolls onwards, you are eventually jostled out of your drowsy thoughts by a muffled explosion coming from below. It shakes the building a little and causes the windows to rattle. However, it barely gets a reaction out of you. Just a sigh. A long and tired sigh.

These explosions coming from the basement floor are nothing out of the ordinary for people living in this house. In fact, they are the reason why the rent was so cheap. It’s not that the booms were dangerous, but when they happened three in the morning, some people get a little upset.

You, on the other hand, have just adapted. You know things could be much worse than having to get used to sudden, loud sounds.

Of course, the first time one happened, you had freaked out and nearly dove off the balcony. Thankfully you managed to regain your senses when you realized the building wasn’t crumbling down.

That, and your neighbor, who was at the moment watering her plants shot you a pitying look that made you quickly slink back inside.

In any event, by the time the shaking has stopped, you have already returned to finishing up your coffee. Humming the tune of Miami Vice absentmindedly, you head to the bathroom; It was time for a shower.

Damn Jan Hammer. He could make even washing one’s nether regions exciting.

You entertain daydreams of slipping through time back to 80’s while you start cleaning yourself.

***

It’s a bit after seven that you’re out of the front door.

You throw on your leather jacket to shield you from the cold of early November. There wasn’t any snow yet, but the temperature had started a rapid nose dive.

As you walk down the stairs to the main entrance, you swing by the basement door and knock loudly.

“You okay there, Strangelove?” You ask gruffly.

You hear a bit of a scuffle from the other side of the door, before a weary voice answers.

”Yes… mostly.”

“Good,” you say and chuckle. “Don’t blow up the house while I’m gone or anything.”

A vaguely agreeing groan echoes from the other side of the door. That’s good enough for you.

With a bit more zest in your step, you head outside, exiting the apartment building. You are greeted by the typical scenery of your new “hometown”. A bit too bright sunshine, sounds of birds and traffic and the alluring fragrance of the coffee shop down the street.

Resisting the temptation for another cup, you instead head to the parking lot, where your car awaits.

Saturn Yellow Buick GSX.

It had been your baby for just about forever, and after some work last month, it was finally back in your hands. Despite some memories that floated in the back of your mind whenever you saw the car, you were still glad to have it, if only for the fact that it made the journey to school and back a cinch.

Still humming to yourself, you hop in the car and thrust the key into the ignition, twisting it. The familiar roar of the V8 fills the parking lot, awakening a flock of birds in the nearby tree. Meanwhile, inside the car, the familiar roar of Ozzy fills your ears.

Grunting, you eject the cassette from the radio and fumble through the glove compartment. A minute later, you found what you were looking for: a cassette with the words “Led Zeppelin III” written on it.

You pop it in and hit play. Immediately, you hear the howl of Robert Plant.

God. Even after all these years, Immigrant Song gave you the chills.

***

By the time you pull up to the parking lot of Canterlot High School, you’re halfway through of “Since I’ve Been Loving You.” Plenty of time to stop by your locker and then head over to the classroom.

If you remember right, it was history first. Not that bad. At least you had some company during it.

And speaking of which…

“Hey! Wind! Good morning!” a cheerful voice calls out to you.

You turn off the engine and glance towards the side window. Unsurprisingly, you see that Sonata has found you once again. She’s squashing her face against the window, peering into your car.

“Hey, Goof,” you greet her. “Move over a bit, or I can’t get out.”

“Oh! Sorry,” she giggles sheepishly and scoots out of the way.

After a bit of scuffle with the seatbelt, you’re out and about, and join the steady flow of students with Sonata. She does a pretty good job keeping up with your stride despite how much shorter she is.

“So, what’s up?” you ask herr.

Ah, yes. Sonata Dusk: A girl a layman on the streets would call ‘Deceivingly Cute.’ After all, the slight mean streak she had hidden was so obvious even up front anyone could call her ‘Deceivingly Something-or-Other.’ That did not mean she was an evil person, no. But, well, let’s see…

Old habits die hard, you suppose?

Still, she had no ill intentions. Just one look at that smile she gave you reassured you of that. It’s a bit of a weird coincidence how you’ve managed to become friends with someone like Sonata, but that’s just how it is.

In fact, you could call your whole relationship with Poofy, Goofy and Aloofy a ‘mistake in progress.’

Not that you complained.

Talking with three headstrong girls that obviously were up to no good in the past felt far more familiar than attempting awkward social contact with rest of your ‘classmates.’ You still remember your disastrous meeting with the girl who showed you around the school. Less said about that the better.

“You mean in the rumor department?” Sonata mocks a salute and grins at you. “I gotcha covered, Boss!”

It’s become something of a routine for you to get the latest rumors every morning from Sonata. Depending on what classes you have, you don’t even tend to see Aria or Adagio till the lunch break. Therefore, it’s a good thing that Sonata Network keeps tabs on just about every stray bit of conversation she hears.

“Well, first of all,” Sonata starts, counting with her fingers. “It seems the Rainbooms are planning something for Christmas, and the school’s abuzz about it.”

Rainbooms?

No, wait, you suddenly recall a vague mental image to accompany that foreign name: CHS’s current power-clique, or so they say. Girls to stay away from.

“It’s most likely a party or something, but knowing them, well...” she continues. “Something big’s gonna happen anyhow. With them that’s given.”

There’s something quite self-sardonic in the look in Sonata’s eyes, like there’s a hidden joke only she could understand.

“Well, other than that… Oh!” Suddenly Sonata’s eyes light up. “There’s one about you, Wind!”

Wait, what? A rumor about you?

Somehow, that did not sound promising in the least. In fact, you were grimacing already.

“A rumor about me? Spit it out.” You almost dread to ask.

“Apparently someone’s been taking midnight strolls around the town lately, sneaking about here and there,” Sonata says and leans in closer with a wicked glee in her eyes. “Really Wind, if you were going to do something like that, at least make sure you aren’t spotted.”

Midnight strolls…?

You rarely even left your apartment after you had bunkered in for the evening. And hell, if you needed to go somewhere, you had your car. Everything is so off in this rumor that it naturally catches your interest.

“That can’t be me,” you immediately retort. “I usually hit the hay around ten, or a bit later than that. I’m a heavy sleeper, after all. My apartment also has a slight… noise problem, so there’s no way I’d try to add even more stress to my schedule.”

Now it’s Sonata’s turn to look confused. She tilts her head quite cutely as the two of you enter the main building.

“But from what I heard, the description of this ‘lone midnight wanderer’ matches yours perfectly, Wind.” Sonata folds her arms and pouts a bit.

“And I’m not that common in looks, yeah, I gotcha,” you conclude for her and stroke your chin.

This rumor just keeps getting curiouser and curiouser.

“Well, whoever it is, they’ve got a good taste in fashion,” you say, trying to downplay the foreboding atmosphere with some humor. “But in the end, if the only thing they are doing is midnight strolls, I don’t think it’s that note-worthy.”

“Nah, it’s not because they like to walk. It’s because lately there’s been—“

Suddenly Sonata backpedals in her words almost like she remembered something that outweighed everything else in importance. Her hand reaches out and catches you by the shoulder.

Damn. Those eyes are just sparkling with excitement.

“Oh! I totally forgot!” She beams at you. “Adagio finally managed to get a job over the weekend!”

Okay, getting bit too excited there, Sonata.

To protect yourself, you start slowly pushing Sonata’s approaching face back again. Best not to give the bothersome type of rumors more fuel to the fire.

“Then we had a taco party to celebrate it on Sunday, but Aria got sick and threw up in the fountain, and now the janitor’s been hunting for her and she’s been busy hiding—“

You raise your hand to stop Sonata’s babble.

“Wait. First of all, Adagio got a job?” You ask, and Sonata bobs her head up and down in excitement. “Now ain’t that great news? Where’s she working now?”

“You know that old record store few blocks away from here?” Sonata asks and points towards the city proper. “There! Adagio said she’s gonna raid your cassette collection to get herself up to date with the albums they sell there.”

For a moment, you felt an incredible urge to run back to your car just to check if the doors were really locked. However, a stray thought stops you.

“A record store?” You repeat. “You mean the place owned by old Grimey? Damn. How’d she manage to get a job there?”

“Oh, she said she just ‘did her best North Wind impression’, and they immediately took a shine on her,” Sonata giggles and adopts a taciturn expression that’s most likely meant to resemble your face.

You nearly rip out the door of your locker when you hear that. Damn Adagio. One of these days you’d get your payback.

“...?”

You’re about to comment on what Sonata said when you see what waits inside your locker.

Another note. Another collection of big red letters written with fury. You don’t even have to read it, they’re all the same anyhow. Ever since that day when you met Sonata, you’ve been getting these occasionally.

And always they demand the same thing.

“Wind? Something wrong?” You hear Sonata call for you, worried look in her eyes.

Instead of answering, you just take the note and crush it in your hands, stuffing it in your pocket.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry,” you answer without your voice betraying a thought.

“Umm, Wind…? Was it another—“

“So, anyways, taco party?” You purposefully speak over what she was about to say. “And Aria puked? Damn, I wish I would have been there to see that.”

Sonata gives you an odd look, but eventually smiles.

“Yeah! I guess it all got caught on tape, since Aria’s had to avoid the janitor the whole day,” Sonata cackles. “Last I heard, she was bunkered in home economics class.”

“Home Ec? Should except lemon pie, then.”

Talking this and that, you and Sonata head to your classroom. As you walk, you can’t help but to notice the odd looks you occasionally gather. Or rather, Sonata does. Most of the students look wary. Others are clearly uncomfortable and some… well, some try the classic trick of bumping to either her or you with their shoulders.

Your sweeping glare is enough to keep them at bay, though.

They’ve heard enough rumors about where you were before moving to this city. And rumors are way better in creating fear than actual truth. Even if the truth and rumors were practically identical.

Few minutes of small-talk later, you two arrive at the classroom. When Sonata hesitates a bit on the doorway you take that as a signal and act.

With the blue-haired girl trailing behind you, you step inside. Immediate and awkward silence falls to the room. Letting your eyes scan the perimeter, you spot your places and lead Sonata there. Without saying a word, you two sit down.

After some coughs that try to break the silence, the rest of the classroom eventually return to whatever they were talking about. Still, you can easily notice that everybody is trying their damnedest not to look at you two.

To be honest, that’s mighty fine with you.

“Wind…” You hear Sonata’s quiet whisper.

You look at the girl, who sits there, biting her lip.

Dammit. While you might not be bothered by people acting like this, that didn’t mean Sonata—

“Um, did you do your homework? I… kinda forgot. Can I copy them real quick?” She continues, looking magnificently embarrassed.

Your forehead is quick to meet the desk. This girl is gonna be the death of you some day.

While Sonata is busying herself with cheating, you enjoy the cool surface of the desk. Lazily, your eyes wander around the classroom. Everywhere you look, only one thing greets you.

‘Distrust.’

Antonym of ‘Trust.’

Word with roots in the Old Norse word meaning ‘Protection.’ Yes. Right now in this school your three friends were, in a way, with no one to protect them. Therefore, without actually meaning to, you had taken that role upon yourself.

You had been cast as a villain; a monster that followed the whims of those others viewed as ‘bad.’

The mere thought makes you chuckle. Just like was typical, the audience was projecting their hatred of the characters unto the actors themselves.

But no matter.

You look over to the other side, where Sonata is happily humming to herself and copying your homework. That sight was enough. The hatred of others was meaningless when you knew what happened behind the curtain.

Most of the lesson that followed was just a blur to you.

At some point you think you answered some questions, but mostly, you felt like sleeping. Just like always. Only sleeping. Seeing strange pictures that filled your daydreams floating by, never quite being able to place them in right order. The slight sting of inconsistency somewhere in the back of your neck.

Like, for example, green grass growing from within the snow.

Like, for example, evening that cannot turn into night.

Like, for example, rain warming you up on a cold morning.

Slight paradoxes that kept piling up and becoming phantasm you saw in your slumber; A Midsummer Night’s Dream in the middle of this harsh winter.

Yet, as if it was something agreed upon beforehand, no one questions it. No one questions and everybody forgets. Even you must’ve forgotten it at this point.

Yes… what were you even thinking about?

Just daydreams to pass the class which had turned out so boring, like you had heard it before.

You yawn quietly and slump on your desk. It would be quite a while before lunch break. You might as well get some sleep while you were at it. That’s how you mostly felt these days.

Sleeping.

***

“Ugh. I can’t believe that old fart. Chasing me down the hallways like I was some common criminal…”

Aria’s complaint is quiet yet firm in the background noise around you four.

“Look at it this way, Aria,” Adagio answers. “At least it’s over for now.”

“Yeah!” Sonata is quick to join in the conversation. “And only thing you got was a stern talking-to from Principal Celestia!”

Aria doesn’t look the least bit happy about that. In fact, if looks could kill, her mashed potatoes would be dead right about now… whatever that means for mashed potatoes.

You and the Dazzlings were currently enjoying your lunch at the corner-table of the school’s cafeteria. This was the eleventh time you had been actually allowed to join them. It was the reward for helping them out with some… personal problems two weeks ago.

Or as Sonata had eloquently put it: ‘shutting them in the band room and waiting until everyone had yelled, apologized and cried enough.’

You had not pried further than that.

But at the very least, you had been pretty much accepted into the esteemed social circle of the Dazzlings. Trial by fire, or how they call it.

“Helloooo~? Wind? You still with us?”

You snap out of your thoughts only to find Sonata staring straight at your face.

“Oh, yeah, right,” you murmur, shaking your head. “Sorry about that. Sorta… spaced out.”

“Not the first time, as we’ve come to notice,” Adagio says and looks at you with a sly smile. “You are rather good at ignoring your surroundings.”

“I blame the lack of interesting people surrounding me,” you retort and return the expression.

As a reward for that comment, Aria jabs you playfully, a small grin now on her face.

“Shut it, Roadie,” she chuckles. “Without us, you’d just be hunching in some dark corner again, making snarly-faces at anyone who tries to approach you.”

“I refer to your opinion on that. You’re the master of snarly-faces, after all.”

Everyone gets a chuckle out of that, even Aria.

As the conversation starts up again, you use your fork to skewer one of the many chicken nuggets on your plate and devour it. Really, after the horror-show that was your breakfast, you could practically eat a poultry farm. You didn’t even mind dipping the nuggets in that horrible excuse for *spicy* sauce that came with them.

The looks of the female trio, however, told you that there was something wrong with the enthusiasm you were displaying. Adagio especially seemed appalled.

“I will never understand how you can eat that filth…” Her face contorted in disgust.

You simply shrug your shoulders and shovel another nugget from your plate into your mouth. Mmm. Grilled production waste. Your favorite.

“It’s because Roadie here has no interest at all in what he eats,” Aria explains matter-of-factly and shoots you a pitying look. “I once caught him chugging down a whole bottle of expired milk from the salvage yard’s fridge.”

Well, she has you there, and you paid for that milk dearly. In fact, your stomach hasn’t really forgiven you to this day.

“Eh, I don’t need to justify it. I eat to fill my stomach,” you explain. “The taste and healthiness ain’t really my concern.”

“Oh, I get it! Like ‘A bad taco can taste good in the right company’?” Sonata asks, beaming.

No, Goof, you’re a bit off. In fact, you’re just about as off as one can be. However, you’re not in the mood to start arguing about detrimental effects of a bad dietary plan. Thus you pop in another chicken nugget to your mouth.

“Or, in a way Wind would put it…”

To your abject horror, Sonata suddenly hunches and adopts a bored, taciturn expression. You know that face. After all, it stares back at you whenever you look into a mirror.

“Hmph. I think the food itself is inconsequential,” she speaks in monotone. “What matters is the company it is enjoyed with.”

… Oh goddammit. That slightly pompous and overly serious tone of voice is far too familiar. She’s got your speech-pattern down to a T. The other two aren’t even bothering to hide their snickers.

Annoyed, you skewer another nugget and chew in silence.

“Wait, why are you just ignoring me, Wind? Did you get angry?” Sonata asks, looking a bit worried.

Trying to appear calm, you concoct a quick revenge plan.

“Wiiiind? Don’t be like that!”

Showing surprising amount of self-restraint, you continue not reacting to Sonata’s pleads.

”This isn’t funny anymore! Answer me, Wind!”

This seems to be enough. You gesture towards the blue-haired girl with your fork and look at the other two.

“Did you catch that, Aria? Adagio?” you ask out of the blue.

The two of them look at you, surprised. You continue your explanation, like a researcher at a seminar.

“It’s bit like tuning from one station to another,” you say. “You just gotta keep turning the dial in your head until you can no longer hear the idiocy.”

Finally, they understand what you’re getting at. Adagio gasps exaggeratedly and hits her palm with her fist.

“Ah, that’s useful!” she laughs. “I need to try it someday when the dimwitted atmosphere gets to me.”

“That, or just switch from FM to AM,” Aria says and grins wickedly. “No chance of her reaching you anymore.”

At this point, Sonata looks like she’s ready to cry.

“Y-you guys are the worst!”

Unable to keep straight faces anymore, the three of you burst laughing, Aria even tousling Sonata’s hair for good measure.

“We’re just joking, you numbskull. Don’t take everything so literally.”

“F-for realsies?” Sonata asks, relief clear on her face. “Aw, here I thought— Hey, not so rough!”

“Too late! Noogie-time!”

While the duo of Aria and Sonata engage in ritualistic head-meets-knuckles bonding, you and Adagio exchange glances. You see that the smile playing on your lips is reflected on hers.

“It’s like having two younger sisters, right?” Adagio asks, her voice is quiet enough for only you to hear.

To be frank, it’s a bit surprising. The way Adagio worded it, it was almost like you were already counted as a ‘brother’ in this messed up family. A title that didn’t sound nearly as horrible as you would have expected.

Finding Adagio still staring, you simply nod at her. No need to put into words what goes without saying. And thus, the lunch break rolls on. Sometimes troublesome, sometimes cheerful, sometimes awkward… yet, at all times, cozy.

Just like all the times spent with these three.

“By the way…” you speak up, catching the attention of the trio. “Did you have any plans today after school?”

All of them shake their heads. A grin rises to your face as you push aside your tray. Only few more lessons and then you might move to more interesting things possible at high school.

“Alright. Then it’s band practice again tonight. I’m expecting you guys to be able to pull off Fireball by the end of this week,” you announce and tap the table in a familiar rhythm.

Adagio, Aria and Sonata all get a little nervous look on their faces.

“Wind?” The copperhead asks, cocking an eyebrow. “Has anyone ever told you that you get somewhat… different when discussion turns to music?”

“Really? No, never,” you answer and give them your best villain laugh. “Nobody has had the balls so far.”

If people wanted to think of you as a bully or a bad guy because you were friends with the Dazzlings, then, well...

… You might as well act the part.

Track #6: Evolution Orange

Track #6: Evolution Orange

“The Roswell Incident of July 8th, 1947, has proven to be one of the most beloved urban legends about extraterrestrials in recent history of United States. It first began when a local rancher reported that he had recovered a piece of debris from a field near the town; a story which quickly garnered more attention, when…”

You listen to the teacher drone on and on, trying your best not to nod off. When your forehead slams against the desk, you realize you were doing a horrible job so far. Rubbing it, you direct your eyes to the blackboard, trying to find something you could jot down to your notebook. Maybe that way you can stay awake through pure physical activity alone.

Well, there’s something on the blackboard alright. Too bad it’s just crash-landing vectors, names of farmers from the Fifties and something that seems suspiciously like a surveillance balloon crossed out. Why couldn’t your teachers be normal? Sure you hated algebra, but this? This was just… insane, quite frankly. Professor Flintheart had always been an eccentric but to spend a history class going over old conspiracy theories?

That was just wrong.

Out of sheer boredom, you glance to the left. Some two seats away from you sits a familiar-looking cascade of orange hair, slightly shifting as their owner jots something down to her notebook. You’re a bit surprised that Adagio is bothering to even play a good student now, considering most of the students in the class have long since given up the hope of this lesson yielding anything useful.

More surprise follows when Adagio lifts her eyes from the pages to the blackboard. You had known this girl for, what, two weeks now? Never during that time had you seen her make an expression like she is doing now. There’s… something forlorn in it. Something like longing, but also doubt. She was biting her lip, but it didn’t give off a sensual air - just a solemn one.

If you had to compare it to something, it was the sort of face you could imagine Dorothy giving to her ruby slippers after all that hard work.

Bip!

You’re shaken from your idle thoughts by something softly hitting the surface of your desk. You turn your eyes to meet the sight of a crumbled up piece of paper. Note passing? Really? The high school cliches never did stop did they? Still, you’re a bit confused that you’d be chosen to pass along a note, considering how most of the school seems to think of you these days…

… Ah, well that explains it. Your glance to your surroundings reveals a girl with absolutely atrocious rainbow-colored hair and general jock-look making an X-sign with her hands and mouthing: ‘pass it back!’ to you.

So the note wasn’t meant to come to you. In fact, looking at California Games’ desperation at getting it back, it’s almost as if there’s something in there she doesn’t want you to read. You test your theory by opening up the note a little, getting an immediate and satisfying reaction. The girl freezes up, eyes wide open, before exploding into a flurry of mimes.

Most of them promise either reward or physical pain if the note isn’t returned. Others seem to be pre-emptive apologies and trying to play the contents off as a joke. They’d all be very interesting as a sideshow to pass time with, but alas, going crazy like that in a classroom is bound to have some consequences.

“Miss Dash? Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Professor Flintheart hovers across the classroom towards the jock like he was a damn Dementor.

California Games freezes up like a deer in headlights, her face growing awfully pale as she does so.

“N-no, I was just, err, I…” the girl called Dash searches for an excuse, before her eyes light up. “That’s right! I was just helping AJ get some stuff you just went over!”

Judging from the dirty look the Stetson-wearing girl throws at California Games, she just threw one of her friends under the bus. Professor Flintheart eyes the two of them up, before an eerie ghost of a smile settles to his face. You glance at Adagio, who’s wearing a wicked grin. Well, at least someone’s enjoying this.

“Very well, Miss Dash,” Flintheart speaks softly. “If you truly were helping your friend, I have no reason to issue a detention. So, tell me, Miss Dash: What Act allowed the public access to documents regarding a possible UFO crash in Roswell?

California Games is beginning to sweat, and her eyes dart from left to right, trying to find a way out. To your amusement, there is no none.

“You don’t know? Well, let’s try again,” Flintheart continues. “What, Miss Dash, is the name of the alleged 13,000 year old extraterrestrial satellite orbiting the earth on a near-polar orbit?”

“I… dunno,” the rainbow-jock eventually admits, slumping in defeat.

“And what are the famous man-like beings of the Santa Lucia Mountains called?” he continued to probe her.

“I dunno!” the girl finally admits, throwing her hands up in the air.

You can see a satisfied sneer mar the lips of the black-clad teacher.

“Pity. Clearly sports aren’t everything, are they, Miss Dash?” he smugly said before hovering back to the blackboard. “For your information, the Act in question was Freedom of Information Act which brought to light some documents which revealed the connections a group by the name of Majestic 12 had to Roswell Incident. The extraterrestrial satellite is known as Black Knight and is thought to be the source of sounds heard by Nikola Tesla during his radio experiments. As for the beings of Santa Lucia Mountains, they are known as the Dark Watchers. Well, why aren’t you all copying this down?”

Furious scribbling of pens on paper fills the classroom as the students begin to write down the fantastical nonsense the teacher just yammered about. You find it hard to believe, but somehow that silky-soft voice of his made even absurd topics like this interesting to think about.

Too bad your thought processes are bothered by the angry glare shot your way by a certain rainbow-haired jock. She looks absolutely miffed that you got her into trouble. Under such accusation, you do the only logical thing you could.

To her horror, you open up the note still on your desk, and theatrically begin reading it.

Unfortunately, what was first supposed to be a sweet moment of rubbing salt into her wounds ended up souring your good mood immediately.

‘Look at Juvie! He’s been making googly eyes at Adagio the whole class!’

You crumble the note and stuff it into your pocket. It was a brief moment of respite, but now you just want to get out of the class again.

***

As the bell rings, you’re among the first ones to leave the classroom. A steady tide of students encapsules you, but like Moses, you manage to part the teenager sea. Whether purposefully or not, they’re giving you a wide breath. This means you’re rather easy to spot, as if your large frame wasn’t already doing that job admirably. Thus it comes as a no surprise when you hear the sound of sneakers hitting the floor right behind you.

Somehow you were expecting some company once the class was done.

“H-hey, you, wait up!” you hear a rough voice call out to you. As you turn around, you get an eyeful of that atrocious rainbow hair. “Dude, just wait for a moment! We need to talk!”

You sigh and lean to the lockers next to you. California Games stands there before you, arms folded and a pissed-off expression on her face. Clearly your little stunt in the classroom hadn’t been forgiven. Too bad that absolutely nothing there was your fault.

“What?” you ask flatly. “If you want to complain, save it. You were the one going crazy with your pantomimes. Can hardly blame me for that.”

“Well you didn’t give the note back!” she accuses you, throwing a pointing finger in there for a good measure. “It flew to your desk by accident. You could’ve just handed it back and nothing would’ve gone wrong. Now I’ve got detention next Monday, thanks to you!”

You sigh and scratch the back of your head. Why was she putting the blame on you? If you act like an idiot, you’re gonna get in trouble for it. And this girl certainly looks like she hasn’t got two little grey cells to bash off of each other. You can just imagine the empty void that lies between her ears, occasionally filled with sports or whatever it is that people like her get obsessed about.

“And miss the kind words you had written about me?” you ask sarcastically and wave the note in front of her nose. “Nah, I’d rather know what’s talked about me behind my back. Makes for much more interesting school experience, doesn’t it?”

Your words make the girl wince. She rubs her arm awkwardly, shifting her weight from one foot to another. She must have thought that by accosting you, she’d get some sort of apology immediately. Putting up resistance wasn’t part of her plans.

“I… ugh, sorry about that, dude. I didn’t mean it in a bad way, it’s just…” she searches for the right words. “You kinda were staring at Adagio the whole class. I know you’re new here, so you might not know that she’s… well, she’s…”

“She’s what? Someone ostracized by the whole school?” you snap back at her, little surprised by the vitriol in your voice. “Believe me, I know. See, we’re kinda like birds of a feather in that sense.”

“That’s just it!” California Games argues back. “Since you’re all buddy-buddy with the Dazzlings, nobody’s gonna trust you soon. So before that, you might wanna rethink who you’re friends wi-”

“Rainbow Dash!” another voice calls out, interrupting your conversation.

Good thing it did. You were about to say some rather nasty things.

Your little pow-wow is entered by the Stetson-wearing girl you saw in the classroom. She’s looking pretty stern, glaring at both you and the jock you’re with. Too bad her image is completely ruined by how she dresses up like an ice-skate show cowboy. You couldn’t take that get-up seriously even if you tried.

“Now simmer down there, girl,” the newcomer says to her friend. “Ah get that you’re annoyed North here didn’t give yer note back, but that ain’t a reason to badmouth his friends. The way Ah see it, he can be chummy with whoever he likes. Ain’t our job to choose his friends for him.”

Ah, nice save. Looks like this Hart of Dixie saw her chance at playing the good cop to California Games’ bad cop. Supposedly this is the part where you’re supposed to break through your gruff demeanor and thank the girl, developing a fragile bud of a friendship with her until it blossoms into true bond.

Yeah, as if. The way you see it, her input is as unneeded as those God-awful boots she wears.

“Well thanks,” you say, sarcasm dripping for your lips. “I sure am glad I’m allowed to be friends with whoever I want. How kind of you to give me the permission.”

Hart of Dixie looks a little taken aback by your words.

“N-now hold on there, sugarcube, Ah didn’t mean it like that,” she backpedals. “Ah just think we oughta keep our noses clean from other people’s business. We also ain’t supposed to pass notes about them behind their backs. Ain’t that right, Rainbow Dash?”

She glares at the jock when she says this. You feel an odd bit of satisfaction when you see the blue girl squirm under that scrutinizing stare. At least someone is getting her comeuppance.

“Hmh? Is there a problem here?”

And again, someone interrupts the brewing conversation. However, this time, you’re glad to hear this voice. The haughty tone and the gleeful wickedness in it are music to your ears. A grin rises to your lips as you turn your head, only to see a familiar copperhead sauntering over to where you were.

Adagio stops next to you, hands on her hips and a raised eyebrow on her face. Even for a girl that’s barely tall enough to reach your chest, she’s carrying an aura powerful enough to draw all eyes on her.

“Tell me, Rainbooms, why are you cornering North Wind like this?” she asks from the girls. “Did he happen to steal your lunch money? Perhaps flush down that dreadful bunny your friend illegally brings to school?”

“Hey! You leave Fluttershy out of this!” California Games protests, eliciting a cackle from Adagio.

“No? Well if he hasn’t done anything wrong, why are you cornering him like this?” she asks, and even under that slightly amused tone you can hear danger.

You grin.

“Apparently,” you answer for the girls, and wave the familiar note. “I was making googly eyes at you during the class.”

“You were?” Adagio feigns theatrical surprise. “Somebody should have told me! I could have been creeped out by your freaky eyes instead of those of Professor Flintheart.”

You both cackle at that, and earn a frown from the girls.

“Ah don’t remember saying yer scaly butt was welcome with us, Adagio Dazzle,” Hart of Dixie growls, but the threat slides off of the copperhead like water.

“And I don’t remember ever understanding a word you say thanks to that ridiculous accent,” Adagio shoots back. “But we can’t all get what we want. I’m here to pick up North Wind, so if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got more important stuff to do than to stand here and play ‘What Line Was That, Anyway?’ with you.”

Having said that, Adagio grabs you by the wrist and begins leading you away from the scene, leaving behind fuming California Games and angrily blushing Hart of Dixie. You shoot them one last smirk before the two of you disappear around the corner. The annoying atmosphere evaporates in an instance, replaced by relative quiet.

Still, you can’t help but notice that even though your hastened pace has slowed down once more, Adagio still hasn’t let go of your arm. Not that your mind. Her cool touch was somewhat welcome after being accosted by those two idiots, almost like an ice-pack over a rough bruise.

“Thanks for that,” you eventually say. “If I had been left alone with that rainbow idiot, I would have eventually lost it.”

“No need to thank me,” Adagio says and winks at you. “I’m sick of their preachy attitudes as much as the next unpopular kid, so throwing some wrenches into their plans is a good enough past-time. Plus I got to hear about you ogling me during the class, so that’s a plus.”

You laugh at that and shrug your shoulders as much as you can.

“Well, what can I say? You’re the only girl I know with hair the size of Hindenburg, so it naturally draws my eyes to it,” you admit. “Not to mention it earned detention for California Games, so hey: job well done, I say.”

You chuckle and push the note still in your hands to your pocket. As you do, you feel something silky brush against your fingers. A little weirded out, you rummage through your pocket, eventually catching a hold of what was in there. What you draw out makes your eyes widen a bit.

You didn’t even remember that this was with you. Had you just stuffed it in your pocket and forgotten about it? With your memory, it wasn’t a far-fetched idea, but still… you felt a little bad for the thing.

“North?” Adagio’s voice brings you back to the present. “Is that… a ribbon? Why do you have something like that?”

In your hand is a white ribbon, snow-colored little thing used to hold one’s hair. It was clearly a one meant for girls. Even with how long your hair was, there was no way you’d ever use something like this. And judging by its state, it was pretty old. Must’ve been pushing ten or so years already.

For a moment, you search for the right words.

“It’s… well, a memento. Or something,” you try to brush the subject aside. “I’ve had it for a long time, but I doubt it’ll be of any use anymore. Just think of it as something silly I’m still holding on to.”

And with that, you stuff the ribbon back to your pocket, where it had been sleeping until now. No use in thinking about it anymore, really. Even if Adagio gives you that odd expression, filled with curiosity and doubt, you know it’s no use even if you talk about it more.

It’s been ages already. You doubt the girl from your childhood still lived in Canterlot anymore.