Scooting in Fashion

Don’t let anypony else’s success darken the sky above your head. Keep moving forward and it’ll be them to bite the dust under your hooves.

The rain pattered on the windowpanes as I observed fresh paint peel off the swing that Diamond Tiara’s father had had his servants set up on the school playground just earlier this morning. Heavy drops of water splashed against the metal bars, creating uneven smudges and smearing paint over the whole thing. It bothered no one. Sure, the Rich family probably has enough money to hire more ponies to repaint this swing over and over again. They could build hundreds of swings across all of Ponyville and repaint them until local shops ran out of paint. Why should you worry about anything if you have enough money to build up a town of swings at whim?

“Scootaloo, are you listening?” came a voice from the other side of my desk. I turned my head to see Miss Cheerilee’s face, her eyes boring into me. “What can you tell me from the lecture about Princess Platinum?”

“I, she, it was...” I muttered, trying to find anything that could have sunk into my head while I had been watching the rain outside the window.

Cheerilee tapped the pointer on her desk a few times, capturing the attention of the class. “This is a very important topic,” she said, tracing the pointer over the canvas representing the family tree of an ancient dynasty of unicorns. “It directly relates to the foundation of Equestria and there will be a test on this topic next week.”

A chorus of frustration ran through the room, heavy sighs accompanying it. Of course, it was Diamond Tiara who stretched out her hoof and spoke up.

“Miss Cheerilee, we already have a math test next week!” Diamond said, her voice harsh and loud. Not harsh enough to be considered as a blame, but harsh enough to take Miss Cheerilee aback. “We can’t just cram for tests all day. At our age, foals need free time to relax and explore their special talent!”

Miss Cheerilee responded back but I didn’t hear her. Instead, I heard raindrops smashing against the windowpanes. Thousands of little drummers performed a concert nopony but me was listening to. Relentlessly, they played their grim march and yet their music was soothing, relaxing my mind and carrying me away from my daily concerns.

“Scootaloo, are you gonna go home?”

I turned my head to see the empty class. There was nopony left but Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle standing by my desk. They wore waterproof jackets and would have gone outside with the others hadn’t they waited for me here.

“Yeah... I’m almost ready,” I said, flustered with embarrassment. I briefly swept my possessions off my desk into my saddlebags and moved to the hangers. I took my scooter that stood neatly against the wall, then pulled my waterproof clothes off the hook and put them on. They weren’t half as fancy as the jackets my friends wore. And, truth be told, I wouldn’t call it clothes at all, rather an old rag with holes for legs and head to merely protect a pony on a rainy day.

“Are ya okay, Scootaloo?” Apple Bloom asked as the three of us walked out of class. “You look a might out of sorts today. More than usual. If there’s something bothering you, you can tell us.”

“Yeah!” Sweetie Belle picked up Apple Bloom’s reassuring speech. “We, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, are always ready to help a pony in need. Especially if she’s our friend.”

It was only then I noticed a necklace swaying on Sweetie’s neck as she bounced alongside me, a gleeful smile stretching across her face.

“A nice trinket, did you make it yourself?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Sweetie stopped suddenly. She fiddled with the yellowish beads and raised an eyebrow at me as if I had said something terribly indecent.

“It’s not a trinket,” Sweetie said, pouting her bottom lip. “It’s a necklace of a sun pearl gained from the Celestial Sea. And it was made by one of the best jewelers in The Crystal Empire!”

“Ya should’ve seen Diamond’s face when she first saw it. She almost dropped her jaw onto the floor,” Apple Bloom said, tracing her hoof from her chin and down to the ground. “It must be worth more than her precious tiara.”

“But how?” I asked, not trying to hide my amazement. Sweetie’s family isn’t particularly rich to be able to buy her daughter such expensive jewels. And, of course, there’s no way they could compete with the Rich Family.

“I earned it by helping my sister,” Sweetie said as a light blush appeared on her cheeks. “After she opened her boutique in Canterlot there are many clients...” Sweetie paused, biting her lower lip. “Sorry, but I can’t come to The Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse today. You know, helping my sister.”

Apple Bloom sighed deeply, turning to face me. “Scoots?”

I shrugged. “You know very well that I’m working at the post office today. Mr. Crafty Crate would kill me if I took another day off,” I said, stretching my wing muscles and preparing to speed up the scooter.

Apple Bloom let out another sigh, resigning herself to the inevitable. “Ah guess Applejack would be glad ta know that Ah’m goin’ to help her on the farm the whole day. And Ah thought Ah was a workhorse amon’ us.”

“Don’t get upset,” Sweetie said, hugging Apple Bloom. “We’ll join you tomorrow. Right, Scoots?”

“Yeah, maybe we can find a foal without a Cutie Mark who needs our help! I really miss this.” I hugged Apple Bloom as well, then jumped back on the scooter, kicking the ground with a hindleg and swiftly flapping my wings.

“See you tomorrow!” I cried out as the scooter began to pick up speed, eventually turning my friends into two obscure figures on the horizon.

Soon, I was on the way to the post office. It wasn’t that far from the schoolhouse, so if you know where to turn, you will be at the building’s entrance after mere minutes.

I opened the door wide, stepping into a bustling room filled with ponies waiting for their letters. Wondering what could cause such a jam, I slipped through a queue that stretched almost all the way to the entrance and made my way to the reception desk. After I made sure that there was nopony at the desk, I walked further into the depository.

“Hi, Derpy,” I said, watching my superior rummaging through the letter containers. “It’s a tough day, isn’t it?”

“Scootaloo! I need your help. I accidentally flipped over boxes and now I can’t find a letter to Berry Punch. You didn’t happen to see it?”

Bending down, I glanced around the room looking for where the letter could have possibly slipped away to. The depository wasn’t particularly spacious, but the mess caused by Derpy complicated the searching process.

“And how long have you been searching for this letter?” I asked, moving the boxes back to their previous places.

“Half an hour? Maybe?” Derpy said, a faint smile crossing her face. “Berry Punch must be peeved at the delay.”

“It’s not just her, there is a crowd out there,” I said, then stretched out a hoof to pick up the missing letter that had slipped under the shelves.

“Oh Celestia. I can’t get another reprimand. I already have three.”

“No more today,” I said, waving the envelope at Derpy.

Derpy turned to me, eyes sparkling like stars. Her smile grew wide when she saw the missing letter fluttering freely in my hoof. She made a quiet noise of joy, joining her hooves in one resonant clap near her chest. Her whole appearance looked as if she was not a full-grown mare but a filly who just received a sugar candy.

Without any further delay, Derpy snatched the letter and rushed out into the entry hall as quickly as a pony possibly could, ladling out praise to me before disappearing around the corner.

Smiling, I came up to the desk where the list of locations of the deliveries lay. I checked it. There were twenty-one ponies I had to deliver parcels to, not the busiest shift I’d had there. I took the cart rope and pulled it to the table where bundles of parcels were. I carefully packed up half of the boxes into the cart so there wasn’t a risk that something could fall out.

Once done, I moved out into the street, dragging the cart behind. I tied its rope to my scooter and was ready to begin my routine job. By the time I rode the scooter, the rain was already ceasing, leaving rare droplets stroking my muzzle. I put on a helmet and began to beat my wings.

There is hardly a thing that can compare to driving through the fresh air when cool flows of the wind blow against your face, fluttering your mane and tail; when you take a full breath without fear of something or somepony constraining you. It’s the time when you move forward and nothing can stop you. It’s my time. My body is relaxed and my thoughts are as clear as the sky on a bright day.

I rushed down the street, driving the scooter deftly and sliding around passersby who happened to cross the road. Some old mare shouted out words of indignation as my scooter flew in front of her, blowing her hat up into the air. I didn’t care. When I’m on the road, there is no force that could stall me.

At the restaurant, I turned left to take a shortcut and then moved up the Flower Alley. I’ve been riding a scooter around Ponyville as long as I can remember and I know the whole town like the back of my hoof. My father used to joke that I learned to drive a scooter before I could walk. Although, I’m not sure that he was actually joking.

On the top of my list were Lyra and Bon Bon. I had to deliver to the two mares a package before the evening. Soon, a big cottage appeared in front of me and I had to swerve right to avoid hitting the wall. Having successfully parked, I got the package from the cart and moved toward the door. After a few knocks, the aquamarine mare emerged from the doorway.

“Hi there,” Lyra said, beaming with pleasure.

I greeted Lyra back. She took the package from me and stepped into the room to put it down. She returned back then, a coin glittering in her hoof. She tossed it to me and was about to close the door when I stopped her.

“I’ve already been paid for that,” I said, flipping the gold bit, “You don’t have to pay twice.”

“Oh, I know,” Lyra said, “It’s to help you.”

“To help?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

Lyra glanced over my shabby clothes that were stained with mud and the rainwater. It was only a brief moment but I noticed that look on her face. The look a pony would only give to a poor and miserable pony like myself.

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” I said, stretching out the hoof with the coin to give it back to Lyra.

Lyra stared at me stupidly for a few moments before speaking. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you.” She shifted her hooves slightly. “I have to go. Thanks for delivery.”

With that, Lyra turned around and closed the door behind herself. After a few seconds, I put the coin in a pocket and walked to my scooter.

The other ponies weren’t that generous with tips. Some of them didn’t have a habit of giving them at all. Some did already know what I think of handouts. The rest of them didn’t care about me. I liked working with the latter the most.

After having stopped by all the places I needed and after there was nothing left in the cart, I moved back to the post office for the next batch of parcels.

Upon arrival, I was replacing bundles from the shelf into the cart as a high-pitched scream reached out from the main hall.

“Scootaloo!” Derpy shouted out.

I dropped everything and galloped to the voice, my mind racing with thoughts of what kind of trouble Derpy got herself into this time.

I burst into the hall, but all I could see was a table laid with two cups of tea and two dishes filled with muffins. And there was Derpy sitting peacefully on the chair and humming a soft melody.

“Join in,” she said, patting a nearby stool.

I sighed. “I don’t have time for this. There is a lot of work to do.”

Derpy threw a glance at me, furrows appearing on her forehead. She wrinkled her muzzle rebukingly as her eyebrows plunged into a frown. From the look on her face, it was supposed to be a stern reproach but her appearance was so naive and cute that my impassive demeanor changed into a cheery smile.

“You win,” I said, strolling to the muffins. My stomach rumbled as the tasty savory scent reached my nostrils. It was only then that I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since morning.

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Derpy said, chewing a muffin. Her mouth was so stuffed with food so I had to perk up my ears to catch her words.

“I’m just doing what I have to do,” I said, taking a bite of a muffin.

“Sometimes, it wouldn’t hurt to think about yourself too. You won’t do the job well if you run around the town with an empty stomach.”

I let out another sigh. Though deep down I knew that Derpy was right, I couldn’t allow cutting myself any slack.

We ate our dinner in the silence only broken by a stallion that came to take his letter. After we finished I thanked Derpy and slid off the stool, gathering the crumbs into my mouth.

The wind blew against my face as I made my way to Carousel Boutique. Avoiding a rain puddle, I slowed down and pulled to a halt right before the fashionista’s house.

I knocked and was waiting for ten long minutes, but it seemed nopony was going to open the door.

Bored, I began to twirl the parcel in my hooves. It was a black elongated box without any images or inscriptions on it. There was just a small piece of paper pasted at the corner, with the only words To Rarity. I shook the box a little, but no sound came out. I could only guess what was in there.

Finally, the door opened and the snow-white mare with groomed mane appeared before me.

“Hello, Scootaloo,” Rarity cooed. “I’m afraid Sweetie can’t come out to play. She’s quite busy today.”

“Yeah, I kinda know, she’s now helping you with your clients,” I said with a bit of bitterness. I could only dream of helping Rainbow Dash at The Weather Factory.

“Really?” Rarity cocked an eyebrow. “What else did she say?”

“Ahm, nothing. She was just happy to spend more time with her sister.”

“Oh, it’s true,” Rarity murmured, “So then, why are you here, darling?”

“I have a package for you,” I said, passing the black box to Rarity.

“Oh, it’s just wonderful.” Rarity took the box and rubbed it against a cheek. “Sweetie would like it,” she said.

“Is it for Sweetie?”

“Yes, it’s my humble present for her. She just adores such toys.”

So it was a toy, after all. Maybe it was a new model, I thought as I hurried off to the next pony listed in my notes.

It started to get dark when I returned back to the post office. I’d spent the better part of the time helping Fluttershy to catch her critters from where they’d been grazing on before my scooter scared them away.

As I stepped into the entry hall, I saw Derpy hunching over a heap of papers. It was her responsibility to fill up accounting that had piled up over the previous weeks: how many letters had come in, how much of them had been sent, which parcels had been received, the incidents that had occurred... That kind of stuff.

Although I always found all of this a waste of time, I couldn’t leave Derpy to a bureaucratic monster all alone. So I walked to the heap to help her. But after an hour of deliberate work, we only made it to the halfway point.

“It’s not that I’m not grateful to you,” Derpy hesitated, “but don’t you have to go home? Your mother must be worried about you being late.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said, spinning a pencil in my mouth, my eyes focused on charts and numbers. If you think about it, it’s just like preparing for the math test without having to do your homework.

“So are you going home?”

“What?” I turned to Derpy.

“It’s already late. I don’t want you in trouble because of me. I can do the rest by myself.”

“Right, I’m supposed to be home,” I said, placing the pencil onto the table. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds. “Well, I’ll be going then.”

After saying goodbye to Derpy, I moved to the exit. Once outside, I felt the cold wind brush slightly my fur. The moon already began to take its rightful position in the sky, so I decided to drive straight to a fruit stall before it got closed. I bought a haystack with orange pieces inside of it and with that pulled my scooter home.

Soon, the house on two pillars appeared before me. With a sigh, I pushed the door open and stepped in. After taking off my wet clothes, I placed the scooter against a corridor wall and trotted into the kitchen with the haystack swinging in my mouth. I stood on a nearby stool and slung the stack onto the top shelf of the closet specifically designed to store hay.

“You promised me that you’d stop drinking,” I said as I looked over a cluster of empty bottles scattered around the floor. “How much have you drunk today?”

My mother kept silent and, as if to spite me, picked up a wine bottle that was standing on the corner of the table. She made a big gulp and put it down with a muffled thump.

“Stop it!” I tried to snatch away the bottle but got a slap on a foreleg I was stretching out.

“Go to your room, Scootaloo,” my mother said.

Disdainfully, I turned around, rubbing the hurting leg. I gathered empty bottles from the floor and threw them into the trash basket, then washed the dishes.

“I’ve brought hay and vegetables,” I said.

She didn’t look at me.

Grabbing a nearby bowl, I dumped hay into it and moved to my room.

Before I fall asleep, I begin my daily ritual. At first, I’m just lying in bed motionlessly and with my head completely empty. But after a while the thoughts from my early foalhood start to crawl from the depths of my consciousness onto the surface of my mind.

Over the years, the full image of those days partly blurred away and if you ask me what day it was, I couldn’t answer. Perhaps summer or spring. Maybe early autumn. But what I remember clearly is the blinding sun hanging in the bright sky. It was that kind of a day with the streets full of foals playing and frolicking in the sunshine, everypony smiling and resting after hard days’ work. Yes, my memories begin here, from the day when I saw my mother smiling the last time.

My mother was sitting on the bench under the shadow of an oak. She was watching me as I tried first simple tricks on my very first scooter. I still remember the feelings of its grips in my hooves, the grating sound the wheels made when I braked hard.

While doing a tailwhip, I lost my balance and fell to the ground. Pain ran through my body as I hit my hip hard. But before I had time to start crying, my mother was already beside me. She cleaned the wound and began to bandage my bruised side. She hummed a soothing melody as she did so. I remember her words, that it was just a scratch compared to my previous falls. I remember that she smiled at me and, as if by magic, all my pain and tears were gone.

After finishing with my wound, she carried me and my scooter to the bench. I pressed against her back and we both were lying peacefully under the shadow of the oak until somepony’s hoof awakened me.

I opened my eyes and saw my father standing in front of me. He wasn’t alone. Next to him stood a mare I hadn’t seen before. It’s funny, I’ve almost forgotten what my father looks like, except for his deep violet eyes that I inherited from him. But I distinctly remember the appearance of the mare he was with. She had silk red fur and her mane curled into two white locks separated with a pink stripe. She had an iris for a Cutie Mark.

“Hello, little one,” she said to me, her smile wide and her eyes kind.

I remember my mother was weeping. She never cried in my presence like this before. I got scared and cried to my father for help. I whimpered that there was something wrong with my mother. I begged him to help her. But he just said that he must go. He turned around. With that, the mare he’d come with followed him.

At first, my mother was doing fine. We often walked together and she watched me while I practiced on my scooter. She didn’t smile anymore but her eyes followed my every step to be ready for a sudden tumble I was prone to.

But time passed, and little by little a void began to form in her heart. I remember stallions that she brought to our house. Remember how their content expressions turned into gloom ones when they first saw me. They never came by again. Nopony wanted to date a mare with a foal behind.

My mother would drink a glass or two after another unsuccessful romance, then she would drink more and more after each attempt. Because of that, she started having trouble at her work. She no longer walked with me nor had anything that could brighten her day. Alcohol was all she had. I tried to help her to quit it but it lasted a few days at best. Then things would only become worse.

Every night I go to sleep with a hope of seeing my father the next day. He will hug my mother and they both will laugh as if nothing had happened. We will live as a family again.

As I fell into the depths of slumber, the rain began to patter on the windowpanes. I like this sound. It carries me away from the sunny day.