Author's Note

Please note that while this story is written in the limited third-person perspective, the story is still subject to Lemon Zest's point of view. Except for her words, thoughts, and actions, all descriptions and depictions are her interpretations and should never be taken objectively.

Party of One

The primal music of creation sounds in every heartbeat, hidden just behind the contractions of that powerful muscle pounding as it moves critical blood through the body. Most lose the ability to hear it immediately upon birth, never to recover the primitive rhythm that tries to unite all souls in the dance of the ages. A few sensitive ears can detect its echoes in the throng of life about them. If they are fortunate, they find the inspiration to rise above the mute toils of everyday life to discover a few notes of that eternal beat.

It is not an easy accomplishment. Humanity is trained from birth to ignore anything beyond itself. The fears of the wild places run to the core, smothering attempts to tune in to anything not built of concrete and 'tamed.' The ancient drums cannot be silenced, but those to hear them frequently are.

As she stirred in her bed, Lemon Zest was reasonably certain the day was Saturday. It was possible she had slept through it, but she suspected she would not feel as terrible as she did if the day was in fact Sunday. Her head ached in throbs timed to her heart's pumps. She thought she tasted bile at the back of her throat, but a glance at her sheets and clothes showed no vomit. Then she realised she was not wearing a shirt.

'Where did I put that?'

Even thoughts hurt. As she rolled from her bed, she resolved not to think until her headache dissipated. A few stumbling blocks in the form of her own feet obstructed her, but she managed to avoid tumbling as she blundered her way into the bathroom. She let the shower heat as she used the sink to splash cold water on her face.

The stream of the shower helped alleviate the pain to a dull ache. That would need at least a few more hours to clear, but at least she could think again. Talking would come after some food settled her stomach.

She wrapped herself in a towel and collected her dirty clothes to toss into the basket, where she discovered her missing tee-shirt. It looked as though she had left all of the previous day's dinner and part of her lunch on it.

Once she was dressed again, she left her room to find Sugarcoat. Lemon Zest was perfectly willing to tolerate a few comments about how she was shortening her life with accompanying condescending looks for Sugarcoat's cooking. It was better than her mother's, not that she ever would have said so to either party.

The halls of Crystal Prep's dormitories were unusually quiet, even for a Saturday morning. Lemon Zest had no idea what time it was, but at least a few of the early risers should have been moving. She knew the sun was up, at least.

Sugarcoat's room was only four doors down. She did not decorate her door as most would, but that had the effect of making it easier to distinguish through the haze.

'What if she's still sleeping? She won't cook me anything if I wake her up.'

The doors had locks, but Lemon Zest knew a trick to get around them. If one jimmied the handle in an exact way, the lock would disengage. She proceeded to use her mastery of getting past barriers to open the door. It did not squeak as she pushed it slightly ajar to peer into the room.

There was no Sugarcoat to be seen. The bathroom door was open, and she was not hidden under her blankets. She was likely downstairs in the yard, then. It was not ideal, but a proper breakfast was worth the extra effort.

Not one person was anywhere to be seen. The building was absolutely silent as Lemon Zest walked. It would have been creepy if she did not have food as the sole topic on the part of her mind that did not hurt as much as the rest. The single track ended when she stepped into the yard.

It was devoid of human life. Where there should have been tens of students walking, lounging, or playing, instead was a silent green. Not even a breeze rustled the trees.

"What's going on here?" Lemon Zest's voice was muted, but at least the silence was not absolute. "Am I still sleeping? Is this a bad trip? What the hell?"

She dashed back into the dorm and began trying one door after another. Most opened easily, as though her classmates had simply vanished from their rooms. Fleur's room smelt of that expensive perfume she always wore, as though Lemon Zest had just missed her. It was the same in the boys' wing. Not one person existed in the void with her.

She was about to the point of hyperventilating when she considered her options: Either everyone had disappeared with no explanation, or she was more screwed up than she realised and it was Monday. The latter was much more likely, which brought its own panic when she further realised that she was late for class. For a student whose scholarship hung by a thread, tardiness was not acceptable.

Lemon Zest did not bother to get her uniform perfect before running at top speed to the classroom. Her headache, which had dimmed in light of her earlier frantic search, returned and forced her to slow. She entered the school building and walked at a quick pace to her first class.

It was empty. So was the room next to it, and every other room she checked. Even Headmistress Cinch was not in her office.

"Okay, now this is getting creepy."

Her mobile was still in her room, since being caught with it in the school was not an experience she wanted to repeat. She lifted the phone on Cinch's desk, but there was no dial tone. Only a dead line, just like the school.

She tried to remember if there had been some field trip or a holiday on the calendar, but even those would not have explained why every single person was gone. A few of the dormitory students did not travel home during the semesters, and there should have been at least a caretaker in the dorm's office.

If not for the bright sun, she would have sworn she had wandered into a horror film. First, isolate the victim, then let her get a touch mad before hunting and then eating her. If students of a rival school could grow wings and train attack plants before causing Twilight Sparkle to turn into a demon, the idea of something removing everyone while leaving Lemon Zest was no longer impossible.

She ducked into the women's toilet to dry heave over a bowl. If the thing found her there, it would not be the most heroic end, but she was past the point of caring.

Once she had her stomach back in control - as much as it would allow - she thought about trying the city. It was a long walk from the school to anything else, but there was a chance that whatever had happened to Crystal Prep was isolated there. Lemon Zest stopped by Indigo Zap's room first to borrow a few energy bars and some bottles of Gatorade that she tossed into her backpack. Sugarcoat kept pepper spray in her desk; there was no guarantee it would do much for protection, but it was better than nothing. She found some inline skates and a hockey stick in another room. If she ever found her classmates, she promised to reimburse them for the belongings. The last purloined item was a little of Fleur's emergency cash, just in case there were other people.

The skates did not quite fit, but three pairs of socks made them work. She coasted to the gate, which at least was not locked, and continued down the street. That far outside the city, there were no sidewalks, so she used the road and watched for incoming traffic.

She passed several fields before the first sign of civilisation: A convenience store and petrol station. She slowed as she entered the lot, but could see immediately through the windows that it was empty. It was as good a place as any for a break; she sat in front of the door and took a bite from one of the energy bars, but spat it out almost immediately. The thing in her hand was not food, no matter what the packaging claimed. She entered the unlocked store and selected a bag of jerky. At least the Gatorade was tasty, but she was partial to most citrus flavours.

Everything she had seen so far indicated that wherever the people went, they did not expect to leave yet did not struggle against whatever took them. The register was active; a few minutes of playing with it allowed her to ring out her purchases, for which she paid with the borrowed money.

Once she was satiated, it was time to move again. She was beginning to suspect there was not much point; it seemed highly unlikely that she would find anyone even in the large city, but she had nothing else to do and a desperate need to find some other life. Even an animal would be welcome, though she craved another human voice.

Silent wind rushed past her face as she rolled down empty streets. When she entered the first suburbs, she tried a couple houses that had vehicles in front only to find those were also empty. The heart of downtown was as she expected: Depopulated as the rest of the city. There were vehicles parked at meters, but none abandoned on the roads.

The silence was rapidly becoming oppressive. Just for the noise, she grabbed the first loose brick she could find and smashed a few car windows. That also made no sound, but she did notice one had keys in the ignition. She started it and tried the wireless, but every station was silent. Not even static rewarded her search.

"Where did they go? Why did I get left behind?"

A few tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She wiped them and stiffened her lip. Crying like a child could come later, once she had exhausted every other possibility to occupy her lonely time. It was odd, though, that with unlimited time and freedom to do nearly anything she wanted, nothing was coming to mind.

"Wait, I know: Canterlot High. I bet this is their fault. Creepy magic stealing everyone would be right up their alley."

It was a long shot, but it was something. She wondered if Twilight Sparkle had gotten into some weird magic again and felt that was not an unreasonable assumption. She hurried to their school, a tiny flicker of hope giving her the energy to keep going.

A thorough search of the building and the grounds proved fruitless. Even if it had been the Wondercolts' fault, it would have been too easy to find them there and demand they fix it.

"Wait, it's Saturday. What's all their stuff doing here? Actually, never mind. It makes as much sense as anything else."

She found a few bags left in desks and rifled through each until she found a set of keys. They had a tiny stuffed bear attached, so they were most likely a girl's. The backpack in which she found them was huge, though, and had a dark pattern more preferred by boys. Maybe the girl was more like Indigo Zap, who kept a few token girly things around for sake of appearances in case any boys ever showed an interest in her.

Lemon Zest giggled at the idea of her friend ever getting a boyfriend. Indigo Zap was going to die a virgin unless she turned bender and found a girly-girl that was into tomboys. Otherwise, she would be some drunk guy's forgotten party conquest.

The laughter died quickly. Lemon Zest was not having any more luck in that department, and knew it was terrible of her to wish something like that on anyone.

"What is getting into me?"

She distracted herself with trying each vehicle in the parking zone until she found a match for the keys. It was an old truck with an apple logo on the side. The tank was nearly full, which she thought would be plenty to get to her next destination.

The only problem was the truck was a standard. She had practised using them a few times, but never to the point of being proficient. There was no better time to learn; how hard could it be? It would take longer to find another set of keys and their matching vehicle. The truck started, not with a purr or a roar, but with nothing. If not that she could feel the vibrations from the running engine, she would have thought it was dead.

She killed the engine twice trying to back from the space. On her third attempt, she gunned the engine and slammed into the car behind her. Even the crash had been silent. As she reached around the airbag for the handle, she swore never to try that again.

The school had a principal and a vice-principal. One of them - the one with the office in pastel colours - had left her purse on the desk. Her keys were conveniently there for the taking and her space was labelled. It was the principal's car, Lemon Zest discovered, a basic sedan with an automatic transmission.

She had a two-hour drive to her childhood home with no music or company to make the trip tolerable. The idea of going back for her headphones and mobile flitted through her head, but she would snap if they failed to provide any sound. She contented herself with counting things along the way. Power lines, houses, fire hydrants, stop lights that functioned and were ignored, water towers, even trees; she reached the hundreds before quitting. Still no humans or animals.

The trip was not nearly as long as she had expected, but the lack of traffic meant she could ignore speed limits, lights, and signs. She spent twenty minutes in the wrong lane just because she could. She would have welcomed a ticket, as that would have meant someone else was present to witness her breaking the law.

Her parents' house was exactly as she expected to find it. The exterior was a cherry red, just a few shades darker than her skin. Their car was present, though experience taught her that meant nothing.

She parked and hurried up the step. The front door was unlocked. She let herself into the house and called, "Mum? Dad? Is anyone home?"

No greetings or other responses answered her. She searched each room, but already knew that she would find nothing. The beds were made, breakfast dishes dried on the rack, and the newspaper was propped next to her father's recliner for a perusal that would never happen.

She tried the television, but every channel was blank. It was at that point she allowed herself to cry. The hope that her family would be spared had been the last driving factor keeping her moving. Without them, with no one else, she was done. She had seen numerous post-apocalyptic movies and series; sooner or later, the power grid would fail and she would starve. At least she was not surrounded by zombies.

The tears lasted only minutes. If she was to be the last person on the Earth, there was no point waiting for some nebulous end. She could finish herself quickly and painlessly. Maybe she would even see her parents again, if whatever gods existed forgave her imminent suicide.

She found a sharp knife in the kitchen and used it to cut a length from the garden hose. The stolen car had about one-third of a tank remaining, plenty for the task; she did not want to desecrate her parents' car. She taped the hose to the exhaust, then ran it through the driver's window before running several lengths of tape over the seam. When she was ready, she started the engine.

Engine exhaust had a terrible stench unlike any other. She coughed and choked as it filled the cab and flooded her lungs. Light-headedness came first, then a growing headache as her brain screamed for pure air. It was not as painless as she thought, but it was working. She felt her thoughts grow sluggish as her eyes closed one last time.

When Lemon Zest became conscious again, she was first aware that wherever she lay was soft. She was prone, though she remembered being seated upright as she died. It was warm, but not hot; at least she had not gone to Hell, but she imagined a cloud would be fluffier. Maybe it was some other afterlife than the fabled Heaven.

Guessing would get her nowhere. She opened her eyes and beheld her dorm room's ceiling. She lay on her bed, dressed as she had been when the nightmare started.

Her room was exactly the same as when she woke the first time. So were Indigo Zap's, Sugarcoat's, and Fleur's. She did not bother to cover herself as she checked. An urge to strip to nothing and frolick in the yard rose, but she quashed it.

"Let me get this straight: Not only am I stuck alone, I'm caught in some kind of loop?" she asked herself. "Great. I can't even die to get out of this.

"The freedom to do anything I want combined with unlimited time, but all I want is for this to stop."

She began to cry again. Unlike when she had been at her parents' house, there was nothing to stop the tears. She was alone in a silent world with no way to know if it would ever end. Escape eluded her. Death offered no reprieve. She wanted her parents to hug her again, to know they were safe.

When the tears abated, she changed and went out to the yard again. It was as empty and quiet as always, but at least it was open. She had never cared about shutting herself into her room, though it now felt oppressive. A walk through the grounds cleared her head.

If she was to be trapped, she could use the time to better herself. Her grades had been slipping all year; now she had the time to master each subject. If she did escape, she would get perfect marks on the finals and make her parents proud of her.

Days of study only interrupted by such necessities as food, sleep, and calls of nature followed until she was certain her eyes would bleed from staring at another page. The silence faded from her mind quickly as the image of her mother and father grinning in awe of her marks kept her on task. She found practise exams and study guides in the library. She went over each until she was certain that she knew the material thoroughly. When she closed the last study guide, she had no idea what to do next. Learning French would certainly impress, but she did not want to look at another book for a while.

A few attempts to use the Internet met with the same failures that use of wireless and television did. Power and water continued unabated, but not one broadcast tower or server operated. She knew she was getting a connection, so that had to mean something.

After the first few days, she had stopped counting. She estimated it had been two weeks since she had tried to kill herself, not that the amount of time mattered. Each day was the same thing.

She decided to sleep on what to do next. Instead of her own room, she borrowed Sugarcoat's bed. It still had a bit of her scent; Lemon Zest knew such thoughts would be creepy at best under normal circumstances, but she craved some form of human contact. Sugarcoat was not the nicest person - none of them were, which was likely the reason Twilight had so readily ditched them - but she had always been willing to help. She never once reported Lemon Zest for sneaking from the dormitory to party or for returning wasted.

Most periods of sleep were accompanied by tossing and turning and phantom sounds of music that vanished when she left the bed, but Lemon Zest felt herself slipping immediately into the dreamscape. She dreamt regularly, but they always faded as soon as she woke. That night's seemed particularly vivid, a trip back to her first day at Crystal Prep.

The dormitory students were grouped together for the new student orientation. After Headmistress Cinch gave a welcoming speech for the new year, she invited them to partake in a buffet-style luncheon. Families that had the time were still present, as classes did not begin until the next day. It was a day for parents to wish their children well, for new students to explore more of the school.

Lemon Zest had already put her things in her room. She was not excited about living in a dorm, but the commute would have been impossible. The trade for not seeing her parents each day was the opportunity to attend a prestigious school that would practically guarantee her a place at a good university.

She found her parents in the back after the speech. They were easy to spot in the crowd; her father wore a suit, but it was not one that cost more than the mortgage payment. Her mother's dress was not designer as the other women wore. Neither of them cared, despite the fact the other parents avoided them. Her parents both smiled and hugged her.

"Just think, only four years from now, we'll be back here to watch you graduate," her mother gushed.

"'Only'? That's a long time yet."

"Time flies when you get older, honey," her father said. "And when you're having fun, so it'll go by quickly for all of us."

"Why don't you go talk to some of the other students, sweetie? It's a good chance to make a few new friends."

"I'll see them all the time, Mum, but you guys are only here today."

"Mum's right. Go make some new friends. We'll be in the yard once you get something to eat. Meet us there."

"Okay, I'll make sure to bring lots of boys with me."

Her father chuckled as he gave her a gentle push toward the tables. She got in line behind a tall girl with blue skin and two-tone blue and white hair in long pigtails.

"Hey, I'm Lemon Zest. What's your name?"

The other girl looked her over before replying. "Sugarcoat. You should work on your greetings; you sound like a country gal."

"Well, I am. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Other than the English teachers ripping you apart and your peers laughing at you?"

"Fine, so how does a proper lady say hello?"

Sugarcoat smiled at her and offered a hand in greeting. "My name is Sugarcoat. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss?"

"My name is Lemon Zest," she replied, taking the offered hand. "The pleasure is all mine."

The girl in front of Sugarcoat was giggling at them. She had peach skin and tri-colour blue hair.

"Don't mind Sugarcoat. She likes to act prim, but she's no more a 'lady' than I am. I'm Indigo Zap."

Lemon Zest expected Sugarcoat to argue, but she just giggled, too. They went through the line together and talked more as they ate. Indigo Zap and Sugarcoat had attended the same private middle school, which was where they first became friends. Neither was especially proper in a traditional sense, though they did know how to speak politely when moving in high society. By the time Lemon Zest went to meet her parents, she had two friends to introduce.

She woke, the memory-dream staying with her. They had been close through their first three years. Sugarcoat's family travelled frequently for work, so Lemon Zest would always invite her to visit her own family when they had long weekends. Indigo Zap was the youngest of five and the only girl; she had taken after her brothers despite her mother's best efforts.

They had only started to fall out over the past year. As the Friendship Games approached, the constant demands to be the best drove friendships to take a backseat to perfection. Cinch's little barbs and veiled threats drove further wedges into each clique. It mostly impacted seniors, but even the underclassmen had become more aggressive and hostile. The growing social fissure culminated in Lemon Zest snubbing Sugarcoat during their last long weekend prior to the games. They had not even sat together on the bus to CHS.

Lemon Zest gradually noticed something she had been longing to find, but had ignored as a remnant of her dream: Noise. There was music somewhere. She was awake and knew it was real, prompting her out of bed in a rush through the halls to find the source. She padded barefoot to the doors and into the yard, where the sound increased slightly. It originated from a bench off to the side.

A person sat there. The figure wore sweatpants and an oversized sweater with the hood pulled to obscure face and hair. The lines suggested female, but Lemon Zest would accept the creepiest of guys if it meant not being alone. She dashed for the bench, skidding to a stop in front of her new companion.

"Thank god I'm not alone anymore. Who are you?"

"Don't you recognise me?"

The figure lowered the hood to reveal she had Lemon Zest's face. She was much older, a few grey hairs streaking through hair tied in a ponytail. There were a few laughter lines on her cheeks, some happy crinkles at the corners of her eyes, but they were almost hidden by the numerous stress lines across her forehead.

The music was still present, but it had no obvious source. The older Lemon Zest did not have any speakers or a headset; she played no instruments, nor did she sing.

"Is this an overlapping loop or something? Did you come to tell me how to escape?"

"I can tell you, if that's what you really want."

"Are you kidding? Don't you remember what it was like to go through this? It sucks! I'd rather have detention every day and classes full of monotone teachers than stay here."

Elder Lemon Zest patted the bench. She placed an arm around her younger self when they were next to one another, drawing Lemon Zest into a firm hold.

"You can do anything you want here. You can drink as much as you want, eat anything, look at those magazines hidden in plastic, or just lie in bed all day. No one cares if you smash cars or blow up buildings or speed. What's so terrible about it?"

"It's quiet as hell and I'm all alone. Isn't that enough?"

"Don't you hear the music? Aren't I good enough company for myself?"

"I've got a new question for you: When do I develop such a bullying streak? Just tell me how to get out of this already."

Her older self shook her head. "Look, if I just tell you, you'll get out, but that's all. If I give you a couple hints and let you figure it out, you could come away with so much more than 'back to normal.' Which do you want?"

Lemon Zest had heard about time loops and had seen Groundhog Day and other time-related moves. The films always suggested that meeting oneself would create a closed loop, no matter what, but those were fiction. Then again, magic had been pure fantasy until the Friendship Games. Perhaps if she did not have as pleasant of a life as she hoped she would, this was a chance to fix it. Another glance at all the stress lines on her older self's face made the decision. There was an escape, so taking a little extra time to fix her coming mistakes was worth it.

"Give me the hint."

"You've heard it before, that music in your heart, but it's faded over the years. Find it again. You're off to a good start, but the other chords won't make sense until you confront what silenced it."

She vanished, but the music that had accompanied her remained. Lemon Zest sat for a moment and thought about the clue she had given herself. There was a possibility she was trolling herself, but she dismissed it. She loved music - the harder, the better. The past year had not been particularly enjoyable despite the partying, but she did not think that was what her older self meant.

"I know I've been a bitch to my friends and that they deserve apologies. What else could I have been trying to tell myself?"

She wondered if perhaps she needed to find more music first, if understanding what was causing it would help her to discern what went wrong. The problem was knowing where to find it. Her older self heralded the arrival of the first notes, so perhaps she needed to summon herself again. That was unless she had not inadvertently called herself.

The only change to her new routine had been sleeping in a different bed. It was a lead; if that failed, she would think of something else to try. She broke into the nurse's office and stole a few sleep aides that she dry-swallowed before crawling into Indigo Zap's bed. The capsules were strong; she fell into slumber quickly and had a new memory-dream.

As they moved into sophomore year, Lemon Zest wanted to try spreading her wings a bit more. More than a few of her new peers had mocked her over the previous year for how close she was to her parents, accusing her of being a baby that clung to her mother's skirts. She regarded most of them with scorn: Those who belittled her were lucky to see their families thrice each year. Sugarcoat was glad for her, being part of the semi-abandoned group, while Indigo Zap was close to hers, too. Both had assured Lemon Zest that their classmates were simply jealous. Though she agreed with them, she was fifteen and wanted to get to know more of the world.

To that end, Indigo Zap suggested they go clubbing. The youngest of her elder brothers, who had graduated the previous spring, knew a few people who could help them get into a sixteen-plus club. It took a few days to persuade Sugarcoat, but they finally went out on a Friday night.

One of their upperclassmen drove. He was more than happy to give "three cute sophomores" a lift. His tone changed when they offered him cash rather than favours in recompense. At the club, Indigo Zap showed her school ID to the bouncer, who nodded and allowed them entry.

The interior was unlike anything Lemon Zest had seen. Everything was dark, only strobe lights providing illumination across much of the room. Most of the space was taken for a dance floor as electronic music thudded with a bass to shake the floor. At least one hundred teens and young adults moved to the music, some singly and others in pairs or more. A bar in the corner served drinks appropriate to all ages, with a sign warning they would card anyone ordering alcohol.

Lemon Zest and her friends wore tee-shirts and shorts. They were overdressed. Many of the girls shaking everything they had - some with more than others, and not always where it would be most attractive - on the dance floor wore outfits that would not have been out of place on a street corner. Several were bumping and grinding against anyone close to them.

"Now I know why STI rates are increasing," Sugarcoat said. Her voice carried to them despite the volume of the music. "You could get cultures just by swabbing everyone here."

"Just stay out of the bathrooms and you'll be fine."

"What's in the bathrooms?" Lemon Zest asked.

"That's where they go to hook up."

"How do you know that?"

"My brother told me."

Sugarcoat refused to get anywhere near the dance floor that night, but Indigo Zap and Lemon Zest were not as restrained. Even without alcohol, both were fairly uninhibited and mixed it up with the people around them. When one of the guys began getting a little closer than they liked, they moved elsewhere and let him find someone else. By the end of the night, they were both sweaty and ecstatic at the new experience.

They assumed their ride had not scored based on how he kept looking at them, but they ignored it. He had too much to lose by trying to take advantage of anyone. Though Sugarcoat did not want to return, Lemon Zest wanted more. The next two years were full of ever wilder parties as they made new connections, but the dream did not continue to those.

It was night when Lemon Zest woke again. She felt the tingle of overworked muscles, sheets and clothes saturated by the sweat born of a long evening's exertions. It was as if she had been at the club again.

New instruments, including several that sounded like bass guitars, joined the earlier music. The original notes had been gentle, played on violins and acoustic guitars with a few wind instruments interspersed. It was taking the music in a new direction, putting more of a sense of action into the phantom chords. It left her blood pumping. She wondered if the specific memories affected the type of music generated.

"Only one way to find out. Time to go home again."

She found keys in one of the dormitory rooms. They had a remote lock/unlock. Pushing the panic button did set off the alarm, but it was silent. The flashing lights were easy to spot in the dark. She hopped into the driver's seat, breathed a sigh of relief that it was an automatic, and strapped herself behind the wheel. The trip was again quick.

The decision of which bed to use stymied her. The dorm room, where she had spent most of her time over the past years, had not given her one of music-creating dreams. Sleeping in her old bed might have counted as a different place for the purposes of the dreams, but she decided to try that later. Her parents' bed was wide and comfortable, a place she had slept many times in her childhood when storms or the dark frightened her. She felt safe as she crawled under the sheets, almost as though they were there to cuddle her in a warm embrace until her fears subsided.

Two more capsules helped her sleep. It was likely not safe to take that much of the medicine so quickly, but it was not as though she was going to die from it - not permanently, at least. The next dream might as well have started the moment she closed her eyes for all that she was capable of noting the passing time.

It was mid-spring of grade eight. Lemon Zest was still thirteen and had just returned from another day at her middle school. Both of her parents were home, her father back from the office early. They called her into the kitchen the moment she stepped through the door.

She hoped there was nothing serious. Her father rarely took time off work; the last time had been when her mother had an accident. Neither voice sounded disappointed, so she was likely not in trouble. If anything, they sounded more cheerful than normal.

They were both seated at the table, an envelope and some paperwork between them. At the centre was a large box from the local bakery.

"We have some big news, sweetie," her mother said. "Ready, Dad?"

He nodded. They both grabbed the lid and opened the box. Lemon Zest looked at the cake, her eyes growing wide as her heart rate accelerated. She could not resist her own grin.

"You're having a baby?" she squealed.

"What?" They both turned the box to see that the cake was covered in white icing with the words "We're Having A Baby!" written large in yellow across its surface. Below it was an image of a stork carrying a baby in a plain white blanket through the sky.

"No, honey, this was a bad mixup," her father said.

She deflated. As much as she loved having her parents to herself, Lemon Zest would have liked having a younger sibling. She preferred a brother, since she knew her father would have liked to have a son, but either would have been a joy.

One of the papers was pushed into her hands. The crest at the top belonged to Crystal Prep Academy. It was a letter congratulating her on being selected for admission on a scholarship. The earlier wilted joy sprang back to life and bloomed until she bounced in place with louder shrieks than she had offered at the false news she would be an elder sister.

Her parents were on her in seconds, each competing for hugs. They were ecstatic; over the past year, they had encouraged their daughter with the steadfast surety of parents knowing their child was destined for greatness. She knew they had been more eager for that letter than she had been.

The idea of living so far from home was intimidating, but she wanted desperately to make them proud of her. Even from a young age, she had a greater appreciation than many for how much time and money parents devoted to their children. At times, she could almost feel their exuberance at watching her grow. They proclaimed it to be the natural order of things: The previous generation uplifted the next, ensuring their offspring the best chance at survival. For all that they had given her, she was determined to prove her gratitude by successfully eclipsing them and then ensuring they would be comfortable in their old age.

Their small party lasted well into the evening. They ate cake and ice cream for dinner because such an event called for it. When it was time for bed, they both tucked her in as usual, though with a gleam to their eyes she rarely saw. The dream faded as her youthful self took her own journey to the land of dreams.

She pushed herself from her parents' bed. The music had added more flutes to the band, their cheerful tune bringing happy tears to her eyes. They quickly changed to mournful.

"What the hell happened to me? I promised myself I was going to grow up and get a good job to take care of them."

Perhaps that was the resolution she needed. Like Ebenezer Scrooge, she needed to learn the true meaning of something. Four years at Crystal Prep had seen her grow from a young teen that was only started to bloom into a woman who partied instead of studying and spent whole weekends with a hangover. Her friends were no longer her sisters but were instead people with whom she happened to spend time between better activities.

She hoped one more dream would be the solution. Quartets were popular for a reason, and the tie of her memory-dreams to music made that even more likely. If not one then two; five-man bands were also common. It may have been wishful thinking, but the orchestra could not grow much larger without losing itself.

She had popped more capsules into her mouth and was about to swallow when she paused. As much as she wanted to leave that empty world, she did not want to kill herself again. The medicine was strong, and she had taken it twice already. It was entirely possible another round would be too much for a body already damaged by her history. As she had not wanted to die in her parents' vehicle, she did not want to die in their house. It was wrong.

That left her with little to do until she could sleep again naturally. A walk seemed like a good place to start, though. The small town in which she spent her childhood had a nice park with a natural pond, two rivers, and long walking paths. Play ground equipment littered the area for the young and the young-at-heart. She had spent many happy hours there with one or both of her parents.

The slides were not as fun at eighteen as they had been at five, but that was to be expected. The swings were still able to get her blood pumping despite the fact she had not used one in years. She soared through the air, reaching the point where the chains went slack as she spent a few seconds in near-weightlessness. After what must have been hours enjoying the simple pleasure of defying gravity, she came to a stop.

A walk had been the original plan and still seemed a good idea. She needed something less strenuous after the heart-pounding pendulum of the swings. The music put a skip in her step. Her friends - if they were still friends - told her she had a good singing voice, but she had no imagination for lyrics. She hummed with the tune instead.

The music had never once abated, but it was not repetitive. Every time one measure ended, a new one began. Its movements echoed life. A few doleful notes found their way into the mix, because nothing could ever be eternally optimistic, but then it would transition into something even greater than what had preceded it.

She rounded a corner and found herself sitting on a bench again. Her older self did not look as worn as she once had, but she still carried herself as though she had not fully enjoyed her life.

"What gives?" Lemon Zest asked as she sat next to herself. "I thought I was on the way to making things better."

"Haven't you?"

"Well, you still look like Abacus Cinch after the Friendship Games, so I guess not."

"If that's what you think of me now, I'm afraid to ask how I looked the first time we met."

"Do you hear the music? It's happy. I know I'm getting there. Just a little more before I crack this caper."

The elder Lemon Zest smiled. "What have you learnt so far?"

"I've been wasting the opportunity my-our parents gave me. At some point, I just lost sight of what they've given up."

"You're a scholarship student."

"One who's been on the edge of losing it for the past year. Even then, I know it's not paying for everything. I have no idea how much they've had to shell out for this, but I need to use what time I have left to make sure they won't need to beggar themselves to put me through university."

She felt her older self pull her into a hug.

"You're almost to the end. I have another hint for you: Only one more dream remains. This also comes with a warning: Be careful where you choose to have it. Four dreams will put an end to this, but they aren't fixed. You control which ones you have, and those will play a deciding factor in what conclusions you draw. The music will rise or fall to meet you. Whether it carries you from this place or expels you remains to be seen."

Lemon Zest was alone again. The cheerful music felt suddenly more ominous. It had been controlling her mood as it grew stronger; if she chose the wrong dream, it could easily crush her newfound determination or redirect it somewhere she did not actually desire.

The decision would not be easy. She did not know if she could use her own bed, which meant she had to decide before she slept again. There was likewise no way to know if recycling one of her earlier lairs was safe.

She remained on the bench as she pondered the issue but came no closer to deciding as the sun's setting painted the sky orange and pink. Her thoughts cycled like stars about a cartoon character's head after smacking into a brick wall.

"This is only going to decide how all the rest of my life plays out. No pressure. I just go to sleep here one more time and let my dreams carry me to the future." She paused. "My dreams. I've been looking at this through my friends and parents. If really want to know what I want, I should look at something about me."

Two beds belonged to her. One was only a short walk distant, but it had not been host to her full spectrum in years. The hopes of her childhood could teach her a great deal, but that ignored several critical changes earned or forced upon her during her tenure in secondary school. She would take her final rest in her dorm room's bed at Crystal Prep.

The drive back was longer than the trip to her family home. She may have ignored most traffic laws, but she was marginally careful. After her suicide, she had woken in her bed a second time. If she died again, there was a chance that would count. She had no interest in discovering what a dream affected by death would do to the music.

Her eyes were drooping by the time she crawled into her bed. Even as she tipped into the final dream, it felt right. She was certain she would find the answers she sought.

A few weeks before the Friendship Games, Headmistress Cinch called her into the office. Lemon Zest was nervous that someone had ratted out her weekend activities. She took a seat as ordered and waited for the condemnation and judgment. The cold, piercing gaze transfixed her. She did her best to sit properly and hoped her uniform was tidy; there was no need to gift ammunition.

"Let me be succinct: Why haven't you registered for the Friendship Games tryouts?"

"I didn't think there was much point in it. It's not like I'd be able to help Crystal Prep in an academic competition."

Abacus Cinch scoffed. "I am well-aware of your academic standing. We have Twilight Sparkle and Sugarcoat - among others - to carry us through that portion. That is not why I called you here. Lemon Zest, you are barely clinging to above-average scores in most of your subjects. Were this purely academic, I would count my lucky stars not to have you participate. However, the games involve your only point of strength: Athletics. Your teachers have nothing but glowing praise for your ... vigour on a playing field."

"Won't that take me away from my studies?"

"It would if you cared for them."

Lemon Zest had no real interest in the games. Being a champion had its merits and would certainly make her parents happy, but she wanted to continue having fun. Outright refusal was sure to meet with reprisals, so she decided on a different tactic.

"Sugarcoat's no slouch outside a classroom. Indigo Zap and Sunny Flare are great athletes, too. Why bother with me?"

"Crystal Prep has a tradition of winning. To do so, we must make use of every asset. Second-class participants lead to defeat."

There was no choice. "I don't want to do it."

"I thought you would say that." Headmistress Cinch opened a drawer and pulled a file. She slid it across her desk. "I know what you do on the weekends, Lemon Zest. Imagine what your family would say if they learnt of your wild lifestyle."

"Are you threatening me over some stupid competition?"

Cinch chuckled. "Of course not. I am merely trying to make your situation clear. The parties, alcohol, drugs, and sex are more important to you than succeeding when your parents have sacrificed a great deal to put you through this academy. Do you know how much of your tuition is covered by your scholarship? Did you know that violating your 'upstanding citizen' agreement not only voids it, but also has a clause mandating reparations of up to one year's worth of distributions?"

"No ... Ma'am." Lemon Zest knew she was on thin ice. If Cinch reported her activities, there would never be any proof that it was anything more than a concerned educator looking out for the well-being of one of her students. "I'll participate."

"Good. However, do not think that I will forget those who help maintain Crystal Prep's sterling reputation. As the headmistress of this academy, I have a certain amount of sway. A letter of recommendation from me can mean the difference between needing loans to pay for university and earning a scholarship. Do I make myself clear, Lemon Zest?"

"Crystal clear, Ma'am. I'll make sure we come away with the trophy again."

"I am glad we have come to this understanding. You are free to go, but I would recommend postponing any further bacchanals until after the Friendship Games."

The dream ended. Lemon Zest rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. The music had gained several new instruments. She detected the original guitars and violins with flutes as well as at least one tuba, a keyboard, a piano, and even an organ. It was a cacophonous din that left her head pounding like it had when she first woke in the empty world.

She screamed, hoping it would pause the clangour. It did nothing except to irritate her dry throat. Covering her ears with the pillow did not help. The awful noise built in her head until she thought her brain would melt.

"Why?" she shrieked. "I'm trying my best, just give me a damn clue."

Her headphones, ignored for so long, toppled from the desk to her side. She placed them over her ears and sighed in relief as the clamour lessened. That sigh quickly changed to a gasp of horror; her hands and arms had faded slightly. She was gradually becoming transparent.

Whatever it was that she had experienced all those days was ending. She thought she would have more time to make sense of it. Letting that music into her life was not what she wanted. It was a discordant mess, just as she had been.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus. If she could not find a way to control the nonsensical orchestra, it would rule her. Her earlier resolve was still there, but it was fading as the music dominated her.

The thoughts about music brought one of her few conversations with Twilight to mind. The quiet science-obsessed girl had been playing classical music in the storage room given over for her use. Lemon Zest discovered her while trying to avoid Indigo Zap after an argument about which of them should handle what types of activities at the games. Twilight was petting the dog she always snuck onto campus while she watched some flowers.

She started when the door opened and tried to hide the dog behind herself. Her slightly panicked expression did not fade when she saw who had entered.

"Oh, h-hi, Lemon Zest."

"What's with the music?"

"This? I'm, uh, tr-trying to measure the effect of different types of music on plant life. It's ... well, it's not a new field of study, but I thought it would be ... you know, fun."

Lemon Zest rolled her eyes. "Right. What's the obsession with that? I grew up in a farming town; if music helped plants, wouldn't farmers jump on that?"

"Well, there have been a few large-scale experiments, but the results are still inconclusive. Correlation is not causation, and it's hard to control for every variable outside a laboratory."

"Yeah, but I still don't get it. Who came up with the idea in the first place? Plants don't have brains or whatever. How would music have anything to do with it?"

Twilight started to launch into a technical history of that branch of research, but Lemon Zest stopped her and turned for the door.

"I don't actually care. Have fun with your stupid flowers."

"There are metaphysical associations. I don't bother much with those, but I have read them." Twilight had stood and was rummaging through a stack of papers. "I know you like listening to music, so this might interest you. Just a few more minutes?"

Her voice was hopeful, as though Lemon Zest agreeing to remain would make her day. Twilight had no friends and was as awkward as could be. There were people who went for geeky girls wearing glasses, but she was too socially immature even for them. Lemon Zest did not want to stay, but she had nothing else to do at the moment.

"Fine, but make it quick. Some of us have actual lives."

Even barbed, the promise to stay there brought a smile to Twilight's face.

"Okay, so opinions about what music actually does to the human mind go back millennia. It's commonly used in poetry, for example. William Congreve, a playwright, wrote: 'Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast./To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak.'

"There are certain aspects of music that are known to have impacts on human emotional states. Minor keys, for example, are frequently associated with sorrow, despite the fact they also have strong historical use in works to evoke happiness or grandeur. The violin is often called an equivalent to the human voice. Skilled violinists can produce sounds like the voice of an opera singer, and have been known to bring audiences to alternating tears or smiles just by switching what notes they play.

"A subject I found rather fascinating is the use of contrasting music and lyrics. A more recent example is Green Day's song 'American Idiot'. The lyrics are very aggressive and dystopian, but the music is upbeat."

"That album is over a decade old."

"I know. It's just a convenient example, since so many people have heard it." She offered what looked to be a research paper bound with a large paper clip. "Here, you might find this interesting if you want to know more. It's not the most scientifically sound paper on the topic, but it's written to be accessible to those without graduate degrees in Music Theory. The author goes through a sample of cultural uses of music and what impacts they had on those societies."

Lemon Zest took the paper, which caused Twilight to smile again. Perhaps the mad scientist was not such terrible company, though Lemon Zest still did not have much interest in trying to draw the girl into her group.

"Did you know that drums and other percussive instruments are believed to have an especially strong effect? They can overwhelm an orchestra if not used correctly, and have been the centre of controversy over styles of music. Certain religious sects are even opposed to them because they view drum beats as opening the door to evil.

"Percussion may have been the first human musical discovery. It's hard to know, since there are all sorts of instruments going back to the earliest human tribes. Wind instruments and simple stringed instruments are also very old."

"Why is this so interesting to you?"

"Well, I feel the same shifts in emotion that most people do when I listen to music. I've even catalogued my reactions to certain pieces and use them when I want a particular type of feeling. It's a mystery why exactly it affects us this way, and I don't think the scientific community is any closer to understanding it than we've ever been."

"So that's why they study what it does to other things?"

"I think that's a reason, maybe even an important one. Spike here reacts to certain types of music, too. It may not be as profound, or at least as easy to measure, but I've seen it. He gets more excited when bombastic music is playing, but curls up and sleeps to gentle pieces."

The school speaker came to life as Headmistress Cinch called all participants in the Friendship Games to a practise session. Both teens hurriedly prepared themselves and left. Lemon Zest placed the paper back on one of the desks, where she forgot it. She was not sure she wanted to be seen entering the auditorium with Twilight, but would have almost felt bad for ditching her.

Their hurried pace through the halls faded from her mind's eye. Lemon Zest was unsure it would help, but it was better than surrendering. She wanted to decide on the course her own life, not allow some weird music to do it for her.

The music continued in its muffled state. She was almost fully transparent by then, but she had regained some control of her emotions.

"I want to keep enjoying life," she told the chaotic orchestra. "I want to be able to laugh at little things. None of this crap about being better than anyone else. I fell to that once and pretty much ruined my friendships."

A few of the instruments came into agreement as they went back to the cheerful melodies they had played when she visited her home town. It was barely audible under the mess, but it was an improvement.

"You know what? I do love partying. Moving to the beat, drinking with others, a joint here and there. I don't care what Cinch thinks. I've gone overboard, but I don't think it's wrong."

If her eyes did not deceive her, she was becoming sturdier. Her colour was returning as she became solid again.

The music finally came into line. It played the sound of life, of who she wanted to be. Even if she tried, Lemon Zest doubted she would ever be able to describe it to anyone else. The nuances captured highs and lows. She could feel her history in it, everything that had been and what could happen.

Her parents cradled their tiny newborn. She took her first steps, spoke her first words. The child fell numerous times, but strong, loving arms helped her to her feet. As she grew, she did not sever their beat from her own. Rather than being an influence on her own rhythm, her section of the orchestra played in time to that of her family's. It was not a domineering manner; the older music was simply trying to guide the new instruments into a pattern it felt was best.

"I know what I have to do if I want to control my own life. I'm an adult; it's time I stop letting others push me into what they want, even if they mean well."

A steady drumbeat joined the smaller ensemble and pulled it into a new rhythm. She felt herself soaring from her room, through the ceiling of the dorm to view the entire school. Tiny motes of light beat to their own tunes. As they came together, they would sometimes overlap and change each other. At other times, the individual beats of lives combated one another. It was a vast symphony without a specific purpose. Most were dull as they obeyed the world's powerful cadence, but a few pushed against it to create their own works.

Lemon Zest did not have long to observe the interactions of the music found in human souls. She was still ascending to another place, somewhere far above it all. She could hear the drums, primal and wild as they called her. The music was like a narrow bridge across a yawning chasm. Even a moment of doubt would see her plunge to destruction in the form of losing the connection she had forged.

She came to rest on a cliff. A tower that looked like a clenched fist overlooked a stormy sea. No matter how powerful the pounding of the waves, it was firm. A primordial jungle stretched into the unfathomable distance behind her, full of the same aura of life that had called to her.

Thorny vines crawled the tower, wrapping it in a cruel embrace. There was no entrance at the ground, only a cave at the top accessible by climbing the vines. She reached for them, but the thorns pierced the flesh of her hands.

"Seizing the reins of your life is painful." Her elder self was there, seated on a stone bench. She hid her face with her hood. "The toll of blood is meant to deter those not ready for the power. Can you make this climb?"

"I've been coasting all my life. Even if these brambles cut away everything I have, I'm not stopping until I reach the top."

"So be it. Earn your place in the Watchtower of the Stone Book."

Lemon Zest grasped the vines. The thorns cut her again, but she resisted the urge to yield to the pain as she pulled herself up the side of the tower. The barbs sliced through her clothes until they fell in ribbons to leave her as naked as the day she was born. They cut at her flesh until she was coated in blood, but still she persisted in fighting the agony of tortured nerves until she found herself at the cavern.

She pulled herself over the edge and pushed herself onto unsteady legs. The tower's name was fitting: Its stone walls were covered in the countless names of those who had survived the awful climb. Most were written in blood, a convenient ink that was readily available. She located a space and pressed her ruined hand against the cold stone. When she removed it, the bloody handprint had become her own identifier. She licked one of her fingers and traced her name through the blood.

The words 'Lemon Zest' pulsed green with the drum as she fell back through the tower and down to where her physical body waited.

She woke in her dormitory bed. Instead of a silent, empty world, she heard the rhythms of life and felt the sparks of souls moving about their business. Her own melody was frayed; the hangover made itself known in the form of a discordant note. She touched it with the new power that let her feel the accumulated damage to her body and pulled it into agreement. Her headache and nausea cleared.

Two songs of life that she recognised easily rested beside her. Despite how they had treated each other the past few months, her friends were there for her after she once again partied too hard. She opened her eyes to see Indigo Zap holding a bucket near her head.

"Just let it all out." She kept her voice low, as though afraid of irritating the cured hangover.

"I'm fine," Lemon Zest replied cheerfully. She sat up to find Sugarcoat at the desk. Both of her friends averted their eyes when the sheets fell to reveal that she was not dressed, despite having shared the gymnasium showers on multiple occasions. "Let me get dressed real quick. Don't go anywhere."

She darted to her dresser and grabbed a tee-shirt and a pair of shorts with underwear before going into her bathroom to dress. A quick splash of cool water and some mouthwash finished making her company tolerable. She would need a shower but did not want to keep her friends waiting.

They were seated together on her bed when she rejoined them. She pulled her desk's chair to face them and took a seat.

"That is the fastest recovery from a hangover you've ever had," Sugarcoat said. "Usually, you'd be begging me to cook you some breakfast."

"I wouldn't mind something good to eat, but I wanted to talk first."

"Is everything okay?"

"Mostly. I know I need to clean up my act, and I'm going to. It starts right here." She lunged at the girls and pulled them into a hug. "I'm so sorry for how I've treated you guys this year. You're my friends, and I never should've let Cinch's 'first or last' spiel get to me. Can you forgive me?"

Their individual beats had paused at her sudden action and the apology. Both joined hers in a happy symphony as they returned her hug.

"I've been a bitch, too," Indigo Zap replied.

"We all hurt each other. We can't change that, but we don't have to hold onto it."

"It's hard to imagine you not mixing it up at the frat parties anymore."

Lemon Zest giggled as she released her friends. Rather than go back to her chair, she planted herself between them.

"I like partying, but I've been going about it the wrong way. Sugarcoat, remember all those sleepovers we'd have at my parents'? The silly games and talking about whatever until midnight? Indy, remember when we'd sneak into each others' rooms and play 'Truth or Dare'? We might be adults now, but that doesn't mean we have to give up simple stuff. The fun times I've had with both of you mean a lot more to me than all the craziest drinks and new dance mixes. I enjoy that stuff, too, but I'd rather find ways to enjoy it with you than going off on my own."

"We should plan a graduation party just for us," Indigo Zap said. "We could each plan stuff that we like."

"I wouldn't mind trying alcohol, as long you both promise not to push me too far."

"Deal. I should probably get a shower now. I can't even imagine how bad I must smell."

They shared a laugh and one more hug. When her friends had gone back to their own rooms, Lemon Zest hopped into her shower and scrubbed every remnant of the party from her skin. A thorough brushing with more rinse cleared the taste of vomit from her mouth. When she was ready, she went to the academy building.

Headmistress Cinch was in her office. She did not look up from her computer when Lemon Zest let herself into the room and took a seat.

"Did you need something, or are you merely here to waste my time?"

"I just came to say that I'm going home for the weekend. I need to see my parents."

"You are eighteen. You do not need permission to leave the academy grounds, not that lack of it has ever stopped you."

"I know. That's actually why I'm going to see them. I need to be honest if I want to be someone who makes them proud."

"Graduating will be more than sufficient for that. Is there a reason you saw fit to disturb me with plebeian insights into your shortcomings?"

"Well, I need to be honest with you, too: The environment here sucks. Every four years, you and the rest of the staff whip us into a 'kill or be killed' frenzy. I nearly drove away my two best friends because of a competition that's supposed to bring us closer together. If it has to be that lonely at the top, I'd rather stay below."

Abacus Cinch turned her gaze from the computer to her student. Her visage was neutral, but her music was angry. "Your actions have made clear your thoughts about success. Go be a nuisance somewhere else."

"Alright, see you later."

Lemon Zest left the office and strolled to the front gate. She was not sure how she would get to her family home. Neither of her friends had her own vehicle. It was not as easy to steal a car when there were other people in the world, not that such an act was a serious plan.

She rested against the wall as she surveyed the street. Calling her parents for a ride would only waste their money and confound the reason she wanted to talk with them. She was still contemplating solutions when a car pulled to the gate.

The young man driving it stopped next to her. She felt in him the same liberated music that was in herself. He must have recognised her, as well, based on his knowing nod.

"Need a lift?"

"My parents always told me not to accept rides from strangers," she replied with a smirk.

"That's good advise. I'm Jackpot, and I'm with a group of people like you. We felt someone in the process of Awakening, so the Synod asked me to come check it out."

"I figured there had to be others. Thanks for coming. I'm-"

"Don't tell me your real name. Only share that with someone you trust, since others can use it against you. I'll call you Christy for now, okay?"

"Fine, as long as I don't have to go by that forever."

"Just until you pick something of your own. So, if you're not busy, my offer of a ride stands. You need to introduce yourself to the Synod. We don't like unknown Mages running around."

"Yeah, I'm actually free all weekend. Could I ask a favour, though?"

She explained what she needed and why, to which he readily agreed. She hopped into the car and rode with him first to a small office to meet the person known as the Synod, then out to a small farming town near the edge of the county. They talked as they travelled, Jackpot giving her an overview of what it meant to be a Mage. Lemon Zest discovered that her category of magick made her part of a group called the Shaman.

After she described her experiences, he said, "I think 'Ecstatic' fits you a lot better. It's another name for the Shaman."

He left her at the corner next to her childhood home and then returned to the city. Lemon Zest would not need a ride again unless things went horribly wrong. Even if it did, she would find her own way.

She worked up her courage and let herself into the house. Her parents were home and surprised by her sudden appearance.

"Sweetie, what are you doing home?" her mother asked. "Not that we aren't happy to see you, but don't you need to be studying for your finals?"

"I'll be fine on those. I know I haven't worked as hard as I should, but I learnt my lesson. I'll get full marks this time, just you wait and see."

Her father gave her a pat on the back. "You know you don't have to be a perfect student to make us proud of you."

"Yeah, and I appreciate that, but I still needed to tell you something. A whole lot of things, actually."

They both looked at her in concern. "Are you okay?"

Lemon Zest steeled herself before confessing what she had been doing. Alcohol, drugs, partying all night, sneaking into clubs and bars; she held back nothing. She had only avoided sex despite numerous rumours and accusations to the contrary. A few guys had tried to get her into the backseat, but she was too paranoid about disease after a very intensive lecture from Sugarcoat that included pictures and photographs of the damage it caused. They still gave her nightmares sometimes.

As she spoke, she watched the physical reactions and listened to their music. Disappointment formed the only negative response to her confessions. It was what she expected; disappointing them always made her feel terrible. She had told them so more than once.

"Honey, I'm glad you told us all of this and that you want to straighten yourself out. We'll do whatever it takes to help you."

"What about rehab? It would be a good way help you get all of that out of your system."

"I'm sure we could find a good one a ways from here so you won't have to worry about anyone finding out."

"And you're sure no one ever ... took advantage of you? It might be a good idea to go to the doctor just to be sure."

She knew it would be best to stop them before they went any further. There was a pattern to conversations with her parents: The gentle recommendations and suggestions would be repeated and made appealing until she agreed. They knew her well and had always managed to push her into the choice they thought was best. If that failed, disappointment would always get her cooperation.

"Mum, Dad, I have more to say." She waited until they were quiet and then told them about the threat used to force her participation in the Friendship Games. "Before you launch a crusade against Headmistress Cinch or start apologising, I just want to add that I'm not sorry about attending Crystal Prep. I made two amazing friends there, and it was great until this year. My own choices put me in that position. That doesn't excuse what Cinch did, but I gave her the ammunition to use against me.

"That brings me to the last point." Another reassuring breath prepared her for the moment of truth. It was time to take control of her life.

"All my life, I've been glad for how close we are. I've always wanted to make you proud of me. Until recently, that was the centre of my life, even when I was doing things I knew would disappoint you. I've had some time to think over everything recently, and I realised that living to make someone else happy isn't going to make me truly happy.

"I'm proud of my family, even if we aren't rich. You've always supported me and done what you thought was best for me. You welcomed Sugarcoat just because she was my friend, and you never tried to use my friends to get something for you. It's just ... I need to do what I want to do now."

She had expected them to interrupt. As she paused to breathe again, she checked their music. It held a deep rumble, as though a storm approached. Before it broke, she finished her thoughts.

"I know I'll make mistakes. I mean, just look at how many I've made already. I'll make more and probably even repeat a few of them. Having someone else looking over my shoulder all my life is like having someone give me all of the homework answers: I'm never going to learn. I'll understand if you're disappointed in me, but I'm still going to keep on this new track. I just hope that you can still love me even when I don't listen to you."

She was done. It had not been anything like the speech she prepared while riding with Jackpot, but she had explained herself and her reasoning. All that remained was the brewing storm. Her parents were ready to respond.

They moved next to her on the couch and hugged her as they had the day she received the Crystal Prep welcome letter.

"Honey, do you really think we'll stop loving you just because you're spreading your wings?" her father asked. "We don't want to see you get hurt, but that's part of life."

"I know we've gone overboard, sweetie. We smothered you instead of preparing you for life. It was too easy to decide what was best for you and then force you into it."

"So you aren't going to abandon me?"

"Never. If you're doing something that hurts yourself, we will try to get you help, but I think you've already learnt that lesson. You'll always be our little princess."

"Our princess or not, we'll try to learn how to respect that you are your own person. When I disagree with something, I'll tell you honestly. If you don't listen, maybe you'll get hurt or maybe you'll discover that your parents don't know everything. We certainly failed you by putting you in Abacus Cinch's reach."

"It's like I said: I don't regret attending Crystal Prep. Things would have been different if I stayed here, but I don't think we'd be having this conversation if I had."

"We can talk more later, but let's go out for dinner now," her mother suggested.

"Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to cook with you. I need to learn how to care for myself. It will be embarrassing if I still have to ask Sugarcoat to cook for me at university."

They retired to the kitchen. The day had seen them take only the first steps into a new way of life, but they had embraced it as they did one another. Lemon Zest could not help but smile when she burnt the French toast. There were many lessons yet to learn, a process her parents had proved was something that continued throughout life. Even if they would not always be pleasant, she would make the best of them with the people she loved at her sides.

THE END