Canterlot Academy For Pets

“Hey, pass it here!” Script called to her friends across the playground, preparing her magic to catch the ball the four of them were playing with.

They smiled at her, happily tossing the ball in her direction for her to catch.

After using her magic to reach out and grab it, she looked around for somepony else to throw the ball to.

All of the fillies started calling for the ball, eager to be the next pony bestowed with the honor of choosing who the ball is thrown to next.

Choosing a filly to her left, Script flung the ball in her direction but overestimated the amount of power she needed and making the ball fly high above the filly she was aiming to throw the ball to.

“I’ll get it!” The targeted filly shouted, running off in the direction of the ball.

While they waited, the filly who threw the ball to Script approached her, smiling and giggling from the excitement of their game.

Script recognized the filly as she got closer,  remembering her from the tour the day before. It was Juniper, one of the fillies she’d offered to tie up in the dungeons.

Script held her breath. What if she was coming over to be mean to her again?

“Hey Script!” She called out as she got closer, drawing Script’s attention. “Do you wanna hang out in my dorm room after school?” She asked

Script sighed with relief and grinned happily at her, “Sure Juniper, I’d love t-” She cut herself off with a loud ‘ding’, a sound which sounded less like it was being made with her voice and more by a… Bell?

The filly in front of her tilted her head, “Why are you being so weird?” Did she ask?

Script tried to reply but instead of her voice, the only sound she could produce was the same ding, over and over again.

Other fillies started to crowd around her now, all questioning why she’s making such weird noises.

She couldn’t control herself now. She found herself unable to close her mouth as she kept blurting out the same sound.

“Don’t worry girls, it’s just Script being weird, just like how she was in the dungeons,” Juniper explained to the crowd.

“Yeah, that was, like, super awkward” Another foal chimed in.

Across the playground, Mister Crop heard the commotion and quickly made his way over to the group.

“Hey! What’s going on?” He asked, looking around the crowd, who all went silent as soon as they’d seen the teacher, simply staring at Script, who was still uncontrollably ‘ding’ing. “Now now sweethearts, you should be nice to others,” He said, before turning to Script as he added, “Even if she is stupid.”

Script’s eyes shot open as she awoke from her nightmare with a jump as she sat straight up in her bed. The sound of a hoof-bell rang outside her door, making her remember every minute detail about her dream.

“J-Just a dream…” She muttered quietly, wiping away the tears streaming down her face

Normally, when she had nightmares at home, her father would be right there beside her as soon as she woke up. He always knew what to say and when to say it and would happily squeeze into the bedsheets of her small single bed with her once she’d calmed down, letting her have all the space she wanted while he slept uncomfortably on the smallest section of the mattress imaginable.

But she wasn’t at home, and there would be no father to rush to her side here.

The bell chimed once more, the voice of somepony older than Script ringing down the hall.

“Time to get up, breakfast is ready!” The voice called.

Script rubbed the last of her tears and sleep from her eyes, dragging herself out of her bed and towards the chest at the end of her bed, which conveniently had a small mirror sitting atop it for Script to check her flowers, which she’d forgotten to take out before falling asleep.

She idly trotted towards the drawers, her body moving semi-automatically as her hooves obscured her already cloudy vision. Unfamiliar with the layout of her new room, she stumbled into something hard and flat, dragging her out of her grogginess as she glanced down to see that she’d run into her study desk.

She shook her head to clear the last of her sleep from her head before straightening each of her flowers carefully, picking up her hairbrush and running it through her mane and tail like she always did as she prepared for the day ahead.

Once she had made sure that she was ready for the world, she trotted over to the door, placing her hoof on the handle.

She paused, hearing the muffled conversations the fillies in the corridor outside. Fear shot through her, what if they were going to be mean to her, like the foals in her dream?

‘Be brave, you can do this, Script!’ She told herself as she put on a brave face and pushed down on the handle, swinging the door open.

The corridor was alive with activity, every door either open or swinging open as foals emerged from their dorms.

Script was the only foal without somepony to talk to and it seemed like everypony had become friends with their roommates overnight, chatting and giggling like they’d been friends for years.

She glanced back into her room, staring at the still-untouched bed that should belong to her own roommate, yet still lay unclaimed, its neatly-made sheets still waiting for whoever it is that was meant to be there the night before to come and sleep in it.

Her belly growled loudly, making Script acutely aware of the hunger gnawing away at her stomach.

She swung the door closed, deciding to worry about her friendship woes after she’d satisfied the beast that threatened to eat her from the inside if it wasn’t fed in the next few minutes.

Rushing down the hall towards the steps, Script caught the scent of a delicious hot pot of oats floating up to her, making her hunger pangs even stronger as she imagined the taste of the creamy, sugar coated porridge flowing over her tongue.

She ran down the stairs, rushing past the other foals who were making their way down the steps at a steady, leisurely pace.

“Hey!” They called as Script bumped them on the way down.

Script ignored them, her attention only focused on reaching the common room and being first in line to get her delicious prize.

The common room was radically different to how she’d seen it last, the inviting couches, small tables, and study desks replaced with four long tables which stretched down the length of the room, each adorned with two rows of plates and cutlery.

At the opposite end of the room was another, shorter table with large pots which billowed with steam against the air, as well as large bowls of colorful fruit and towers of crisp browned toast.

Despite her desire to be first in line, there were already plenty of ponies milling around the room, claiming sections of the large bench seats for themselves as they tried their best to not get separated from each other.

Script spotted an empty seat close to the front of the room, heading for it confidently. As she got closer, she noticed that the filly in the seat beside where she wanted to sit was holding a hoof on the seat, in the way of anypony who wanted to sit there.

The filly glanced up at Script, who gave her a hopeful look, “C-Can I sit here?” She asked, looking down at the other filly’s hoof and silently asking her to move it.

“Sorry, I’m saving this spot for my friend…”  The filly said, nodding to a filly emerging from the stairwell behind Script.

“O-Oh, I’ll sit somewhere else then…” She replied, wandering off to find different spot to sit in.

Unfortunately, it seemed like she was just too slow, every seat was either taken or ‘reserved’ by somepony, pushing her further and further back until she reached the end of the tables.

She sighed, spotting the last two open seats at the very end of the tables.

“Is anypony sitting here?” She asked the filly sitting beside the seat she wanted, who shook her head wordlessly.

She smiled with relief, sitting down and waiting patiently.

After a short while, a teacher trotted into view at the front of the room, clearing his throat while amplifying himself with his magic to ensure everypony could hear him.

The chatter that filled the room slowly died off as everypony nudged their friends to bring their attention to the stallion and halt their conversations.

“Okay now, I know you all heard this  at dinner last night but just for those who might have forgotten, I’ll remind you all how we serve meals here!” He said.

All of the sudden, Script realized why she had been so famished when she’d woken up that morning: She hadn’t had any dinner!

The teacher continued, “We’ll call you up year level by year level, you’ll line up with your bowls and plates over there,” He explained, pointing to the left side of the serving table. “And you’ll be served as you move down the line.” He finished, before adding, “Anypony caught running or pushing will be served last, and have to help with cleanup after breakfast is finished!”

“Now, first years, you may calmly rise and be served.” He said quietly before standing aside as the thirty-nine foals quickly got to their hooves and made their way to the start of the line.

Script was the very last filly to join the line, her position at the back of the room placing her at a disadvantage to the others, who were positioned closer to the serving tables. Her hunger grew with each passing second, her stomach’s growling noticeable to a few ponies around her, who gave her slightly disapproving glances.

She chuckled nervously, smiling sheepishly until they rolled their eyes and returned to their conversations and ignored Script.

Finally, she arrived at the serving bench, holding out her bowl for the pony serving oats to carefully lift the ladle and fill her bowl with the thick oats.

The aroma she smelled earlier was just as pleasant when she got close to the source of it. The rich scent filling her nostrils, making her taste it on her tongue as she breathed in the heat of the porridge.

The next pot was filled with a colorful, sweet-scented fruit salad. As the server gently set a large helping on top of her oats, she tried to pick out as many fruits as she could, taking in the rainbow of banana slices, blueberries, melon chunks and strawberries that settled atop her small mountain of oats.

At the end of the table was a large tray lined with cups of orange juice. Two small signs sat on separate sides of the tray, one labeled ‘pulp’ and the other ‘no pulp’.

Script took a cup from the ‘pulp’ side, grabbing it in her magic and taking it back to her seat with her oats, licking her lips in anticipation as she began to dig into her food.

Her eyes widened as the first spoonful passed her lips, the combination of the rich porridge and the sweet fruit salad exciting her taste buds. She couldn’t help scooping the food into her mouth as quickly as possible, coating the outside of her mouth with stray oats as she gulped down mouthful after mouthful of her delicious breakfast, washing it down with a gulp of refreshing orange juice every few spoonfuls.

As she ate, the teacher who spoke before she was served called out once again, “Once you finish your food, you may bring your dishes to the table, scrape your scraps into the scrap bin and neatly place your bowls and spoons in the correct piles.”

Script glanced down at her bowl, she’d barely finished half of her food even though her fellow students were already starting to rise from their seats to scrape their bowls clean.

Long after all the other first years had finished, she made her way back to the serving table, her bowl completely empty save for a few stray oats which clung to the sides of the bowl.

She burped as she set the bowl down with the rest of the used dishware, blushing and covering her mouth in embarrassment as she rushed away from the common room to prepare for school.

Recalling what she’d been told on the tour the day before, Script went through what she was to do to prepare for the first day. Everypony else had gotten the evening to tend to their preparation, but due to her ‘extended outdoors time’, Script had no such luxury, rushing back to her room to prepare her bag with everything she needed for the day ahead.

Her schoolbag had been used to store some additional items that couldn’t quite fit in her suitcase, which was threatening to burst at any moment from the intense abuse her mother had given it while trying to fill them with anything and everything her daughter might need while at school.

Script took from her bag a few items which she knew she wouldn’t need, things such as her diary (which contained only her deepest darkest secrets), her stuffed bear (which she called Fuzzball) and her prized acceptance letter (the value of which goes without saying).

Once she’d taken out her unneeded items, she went through the remaining contents of the bag to ensure she still had everything she’d need for her lessons.

She double checked her things, confirming that there was no chance she’d be caught without her school gear, before setting off back towards the door with her saddlebags strapped securely to her torso.

As she passed her mirror, she stared at her reflection, she was really going to school, just like in all the stories her parents helped her read before bed, she felt just like one of the characters in one of her picture books, especially her favorite, Sunlight Goes to School!

She loved the book so much that she wouldn’t wear anything but a pink saddlebag with her cutie mark (a piece of parchment with a quill positioned diagonally over it) largely embroidered into the sides, just like how Sunlight had her cutie mark on her saddlebags.

She imagined herself in Sunlight’s place, remembering every detail of every image in the book, her favorite one was the picture of Sunlight standing in front of her bedroom mirror, looking at herself with her saddlebags on just like Script was right in that moment.

Her parents had to specially order the bags from a store in Canterlot, giving them to her as a gift congratulating her for her acceptance into the school.

A grin adorned her face as she picked up her toiletries bag, quickly headed out the door and made her way to the shared bathrooms to brush her teeth before she left for her first ever school class.

The bathrooms were slightly grimy. the tiled walls were marked and scuffed from years of use, the floor tiles were stained slightly yellow in patches. The smell was pleasant, like fresh lemon and the morning breeze, though the scent of the damp steam that clouded the ceiling was laced with shampoo and coat softener.

A couple of older fillies stood in front of the many water basins that lined the walls opposite of the showers, doing their makeup and chatting idly with each other

Script put her bag on the side of one of the basins, pulling out her toothbrush and toothpaste, squeezing the tube to make a small twist of the thick paste cover the head of the brush before starting to clean her teeth.

While she did so, she double checked her appearance in the mirror, running her brush through her mane once more and fixing her flowers.

Her fellow fillies went through their own morning routines, chatting away as they patted themselves down with layers upon layers of makeup, mixing and matching between each other’s extensive kits of expensive makeup.

She stared at them, her toothbrush left hanging from her mouth, forgotten as she observed the three fillies. Her chest tightened, they were only a few water basins away from each other, yet their worlds were so far apart.

“Ugh,” One of the fillies groaned, “I hate these stupid keys!” She said, slipping her blue-colored horn ring onto her forehead.

“Yeah, they’re like, so ugly!” Another filly agreed, donning her ring.

Script felt for her own key, quickly realizing a fact more important than the state of her mane.

She quickly packed up her toiletries and dashed out of the bathroom, forgetting her key is what caused her to get lost just one day before, and she wouldn’t let such an issue cause her more problems if she could help it.

‘No need rush, I know exactly where it is!’ She thought, calming herself a little, ‘It’s right on the…’ She didn’t finish her thought however as she glanced over at the desk where she’d last seen the white horn-band and finding it barren.

Panic rose in her chest, her body leaping into action as she started to frantically search for her key before she ran out of time and the teachers left for school without her.

She dove under her bed, squinting as she tried to make out any objects that looked like the ring in the tiny splash of light that managed to spill under the bedframe. She ran her hooves across the floor, thoroughly patting down the soft carpet to make sure she checked it properly.

Confident that the key was not under her bed, the flustered filly quickly slid out from underneath it.

It was at this point two very unfortunate things happened one after the other:

She bumped her head on the wooden bedframe, and as she gasped through her nose, she inhaled some carpet fluff. This, in turn, made her sneeze and jerk her head upwards, bumping her head in the same spot as she did the first time.

The combination of not one but two firm bumps to the back of her head was enough to make the young girl ball up in pain, tears streaming down her face as she rolled across the floor in agony.

In the midst of her tumbling, she caught sight of a white object sitting beneath her desk. It was her key, she’d finally found it! It had obviously rolled off and under the desk when she’d bumped it before breakfast.

She reached out and grabbed it with her hooves, her pain almost forgotten as she slid it over her horn for the first time, donning the only ‘uniform’ of the school for the first time in her life, a moment which she savoured as she carefully rose to her hooves and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her smiling face beamed back at her, the sparkling gold rim of the horn ring glistening in the morning light. She really looked like a student of the Academy!

As she studied her appearance, her eyes caught a glance of the wall clock She was late, again!

She quickly checked the ring was securely fastened to her horn, picked up her school bags and strapped them to herself as she sprinted out of her room and down the hallway to get to the dorm lobby.

By the time she’d finally arrived at the meeting point, the group had already long since left, she must have spent more time getting ready than she’d thought!

Luckily, she remembered clearly the way to get to class, running as fast as her tiny hooves could take her out the front door and down the steps, heading straight for the gates of her new school.