7DSJ: Downtempo

Chapters

August 14, AM: August Day Song
March 25, AM: Tea Leaf Dancers
March 25, PM: Season's Trees
March 26, AM: Somersault
March 26, PM: Up With People!
March 27, AM: Club Bizarre
March 27, PM: L'Aventure Fantastique
March 28: Pure
August 14, PM: Simply So
March 24: Make You Feel

August 14, AM: August Day Song

There are times when someone shouldn’t be doing something that is distracting when you need your absolute concentration. Like eating really cold ice cream while working on calculus, for example. Or trying to do a report of the impact of Benjor on Latin jazz while listening to Dr. Demento’s radio show.

Or in my current case, trying to concentrate on driving while the love of my life is sitting right next to me. Sunset Shimmer, my dearest love – probably my first real love. That’s not to say I haven’t loved anyone before. But Sunny’s the first person I know, without a doubt, that I could bear all (hrrm, that’s an idea for later….) without being hurt.

I’ve already felt the hurt before – a thousandfold, and I never want to feel it again, since it haunts me already as is. I try not to think about it, but that’s already a luxury I don’t have.

And yet the pain lessens – never goes away, mind, but lessens – when I’m around Sunny. She is my sun, she’s my all. And even though I’m just sixteen, I have to wonder if I’m just in a momentary phase, or if this is going to be the person I’ll love for the rest of my life. And sure, I’ve daydreamed that before – and paid for it. And yes, given that I’m not even an adult yet you could argue that it’s just teenage moonbeam syndrome. But I’m not a normal teen and the girl I’m in love with isn’t exactly normal, either.

But I’m digressing. As it is, I’m starting to regret having asked Sunny to put the others to sleep via spell, because in a sense, it leaves me alone with her. And right now, I’m kinda having a hard time keeping my hands on the steering wheel and off Sunny. Is that bad?

I look at her, and those gorgeous cyan eyes, that perfect face, those luscious lips….

Yeah, it’s bad.

Get a hold of yourself, Pinkie! Be the Pinkie you were meant to be, not the Pinkie you shouldn’t be! Or something like that.

I close my eyes just for the briefest of seconds – I’d be crazy to do it longer, I am driving, after all! – and reach within for a song that my big sister Maud shared with me. It’s her favorite song, and it’s up there with mine, too.

Before I know it, I’m in the groove and singing, even though there’s nothing playing on the radio, because, well, we’re in an area between stations at the moment:

“Tentei contar,
Tentei cantar,
Tentei just la la la ia

“Tentei tocar,
Também dançar,
Assim, só para deixar

“Só quero te dar
Se te falar
Se te just la la la ia

“Só quero estar,
Com seu cantar,
Com seu just la la la ia….

“Just like this rainstorm,
This August day song,
I dream of places far beyond….”

I get so into the song that I don’t see Sunny looking at me in appreciation. “Wow, Pinkie,” she tells me, “I didn’t know you knew Portuguese.”

I smile. “Maud studied it in high school on a lark,” I explain, “and she teaches me some stuff here and there whenever she’s in town. She’s big into Latin jazz and bossa nova. The song I’m singing is ‘August Day Song’ by Tanto Tiempo. I’ve got it on my phone, if you want to hear it.”

I pass her my phone and she uses a spell to port the music through the speakers even though the van has no Bluetooth. That’s gotta be really handy! Wish I could learn that trick – it’d be a blast at parties.

Sitting back in her seat and enjoying the song, I see a smile come on Sunny’s face. I immediately want to kiss it (Bad Pinkie! Bad! Concentrate on driving!) and I wait until she speaks. “I like it. Going to have to get the song.”

“The song’s special to me,” I tell her.

“Because Maud introduced you to it?”

“Well, yeah, sure, but it also has a deeper meaning to me: it was the song that made me realize I was in love with you.” And it’s true, so very true. It’s the main reason why I keep this song on my phone even when I tend to swap out music so much that I’ve worn out an SD card or two.

Sunny smiles – and it’s like water to a parched woman to me. “I’m guessing there’s a story behind that?” she asks.

I give her a coquettish smile – Rares made me practice that one. “Of course! There’s always a story behind anything special, silly! And this story’s a doozy! Full of suspense, intrigue, betrayal, desire, you name it!”

She cocks a brow, and I know I have her hooked. “Really?”

“Yeah! Or…maybe I’m thinking of the latest Treadstone film. Either way, it’s a story worth hearing, right?”

“Lay it on me, then,” she tells me.

Please don’t tempt me, Sunny!

Author's Note

In case you're curious about the song:

March 25, AM: Tea Leaf Dancers

Author's Note

Warning: Sad Pinkies in snow. Except there's no snow.

Seriously, the BV Team (and our lawyers, except that we don't have any) decided to put this warning atop:

WARNING: Depressed Pinkie (as in clinically depressed, not emo.) She also remembers something that most people don't want her to. You have been warned.

March 25, AM: Tea Leaf Dancers

The first thing I feel is the light around me, caressing my naked body. It feels like a soft focus, glistening against the gleaming silver of my choker and the bangles I’m wearing.

I’m in a forest glen. I know this glen a thousand times over. I’ve had picnics with my friends in this glen. I’ve partied in this glen. I…I made out with Atlas in this glen, and we started to find our way towards adulthood in this place.

I shake the images from my mind. This is supposed to be a happy place for me, a joyful place, filled with far more joyful moments than bittersweet ones. I can’t let them steal that from me. I won’t let them steal that from me!

And just like that, I feel two arms snake around my waist and warm breath against the nape of my neck. A tender kiss, and a caress of my neck. I know that perfume, it is my ambrosia. I turn and stare into those gorgeous eyes, looking at me and only me.

I feel desire coming on, but this is pure, this is elemental…. It feels…right.

I open my mouth to speak to perfection, but it’s immediately closed, as two tender lips collide with my own, tongues probing. But the sensation doesn’t last long as those lips travel elsewhere, tracing patterns across my body, fingers dancing along my skin. It feels like bliss, like nirvana, like the greatest ice cream cake in the world times eleventy infinities.

The name of this eternal beauty is on the tip of my tongue, ready to be spoken, ready to be beseeched, to plead my emotions and offer my womanhood. And yet I cannot speak, as if it would spoil the moment for eternity.

Pressure is building from within me. Wanting to flow out and to take in at once. Wanting to give and take, push and pull and let nature take its course. I briefly wonder if my other is from Venus or Mars. It doesn’t matter to me. Whatever it is, they’re all right tonight.

I look and see those gorgeous cyan disks looking at me, pleading to make things perfect. I can feel the warmth of flames caressing me, pulling me down, touching my wetness, filling me…

…and that’s when the screaming and laughter begins. It hurts, God it hurts! I look for those beautiful eyes and I see Flash Sentry expending himself on me, caring not what I feel. I feel pain from behind me and I turn to see Turtleshell, a guy I know who couldn’t get a date if his life depended on it, slipping within, making me scream.

I want to run, to shriek away, but I can’t. I feel a myriad of boys who want to be men but can never be, all of them tearing out pieces of me and stomping on my soul. I feel something settle within me, clamping down on my womb, but I don’t know where it comes from. And all I can do is scream.

I feel rough hands on me, pulling me, bruising me. I see the face of the boy I once loved, laughing at me as he spills his seed on me, cheering as Flash starts again from behind me. And all I can do is scream until finally, I feel my hair pulled up to stare into cold spring-green eyes glaring at me with a cruel smile, telling me that all I have to do to redeem myself – to make myself close to human again – is to be her slave.

To be their slave.

Royal Atlas. The boy I fell in love with. The boy who I thought would be my all, and instead took everything from me.

Sweet Cicely. The girl who I thought was my best friend. The girl I began to fall in love with. And she took whatever her brother couldn’t.

I look at them both and surrender as they claim what’s left of my soul.

And I have no mouth, and I must scream.

I jolt up in the bed, the terror thankfully retreating from my mind, even as the nausea remains. The bedsheets are soaked, both with my sweat and my wetness. I blanche at that and run to the bathroom as quick as I can, where I shut the door and void dinner’s contents from my stomach. And lunch. And probably both breakfast and last night’s dinner, too.

I want to cry. I want to go melt into my aunt’s arms and then curl up with some milk and cookies. And I know I should be ashamed of that. I’m in my parents’ home, and the only familial relationship I can feel right now is for those of my aunt and uncle. And I wonder if my mother hates me for that. I know Dad doesn’t, but Mom is a different story, an unknown quantity.

I wish Maud were here. She would be someone to talk to. My big sis understands me, maybe in ways I don’t even understand myself. Probably because she’s older, wiser and has been through it all – sowed her wild oats and can speak from the perspective of an older sibling. Something that I should do for Inkie and Blinkie, and I don’t think I ever can, because their lives are too different.

I wipe my mouth off, flush the toilet, then rinse out my mouth once more and brush my teeth, hoping that the overpowering taste of toothpaste will override the aftertaste of bile. My clothes are so soaked they cling to me like a second skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination, and it makes me almost wretch again. I know I’m considered beautiful – I figure Atlas chose me for that reason, and being a cheerleader keeps me in tip-top condition – but right now I feel ugly and hideous and like a monstrosity. All scar tissue and bleeding wounds, a scab on the skin of life.

I look in the mirror and see my hair as straight as Twily’s. It’s funny, I don’t know how my hair is one giant mood ring as far as I’m concerned, but it’s a part of me and something I’ve come to rely upon just as much as my intuition (or as AJ’s called it, “Pinkie Sense”). My blue eyes are rimmed red from a girl who’s been crying in her sleep, and all this just reinforces my ugliness.

I know I didn’t deserve what happened to me – no person does, ever – but it’s moments like this that make me feel otherwise.

I make my way back to the bedroom, smelling the sour smell of both my sweat and the light musk of my womanhood. And I want to scream at Atlas and Cicely, I loved you both – why did you do this to me? Why did you make me so shattered and destroyed? Why did I have to fall in love with monsters? Why couldn’t I be a normal girl, instead of this thing that’s a wreck to both men and women?

I want to hate myself for being straight. I want to hate myself for being gay. I want to hate myself for both and neither and all of it at once.

Daddy, Mommy, Uncle Carrot and Auntie Cup – your little Pinkie is just one fucked up individual, probably beyond all repair.

I walk into the room, tear off the clothing and slip on some new sleepwear, pausing only to throw my old clothing into the small hamper. I then grab my phone and my headphones, because I want to call Sunny and ask for advice. Maybe because I know she’s been through the self-hate too; or maybe because I just want to hear her voice. I don’t really know.

My fingers glide along the screen and I hesitate calling her. It’s 1:30 in the morning here; it’s only 11:30 in LA, so she’s got to be up, right? Maybe I could talk to her and Tavi and see how they’re doing. Truthfully more Sunny than Tavi, and that’s not fair to her, because she’s my friend as well.

Why am I doing this to myself?

What am I doing to myself?

I need a walk to clear my head. My mother will probably give me shit about walking out at Satan’s Hour or some bullshit but I need to get out of here. I just…need to get away.

A few minutes later, I’m walking down towards the quarry, wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and my favorite black-and-red flannel shirt. It used to be Uncle Carrot’s, until he thought I looked better in it than he did, so I kept it. I’m using my cellphone as a flashlight – really don’t want to fall in the quarry to my death, k thx – and the grounds are foggy. I guess that’s just the thing about farm country: since everything around is agriculture, there’s extra moisture in the air and that means fog a lot of times. Same thing happens now and then in the Everfree, too.

I get as far as where we were having the picnic grounds when I smell an all-too-familiar smell, on the other side of the barn. Shaped like a barn, if I recall correctly, it’s where they keep both the lawnmower and the skates when people go skating on the farm pond. Dad said that the neighbors around here have kids my age, and if I know anything it’s that kids my age do stupid things. It’s like we’re born for stupidity.

Sure enough, I round the corner to the far side of the barn, and somehow, I’m not surprised by what I see: sitting there, smoking a fairly large one and drinking from a can of some cheap generic beer, is Hope. From the looks of it, she got copies of Playboy from somewhere, and given her state of half-dress, I’m glad I didn’t come earlier – from the smell, however, she certainly did.

She looks up at me, bleary-and-redeyed, with a lazy grin on my face. “Hey, y’ hungry? ‘Cause when you feast on my taco, you won’t want any other.”

Seriously, what is with this girl? I’m bi, not stupid. I cross my arms and glare at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Gettin’ lit and fucked up!” she tells me in a boisterous tone. “And if you get undressed and comfy, maybe I can get all three!”

“Not on your life,” I tell her. “Look, you’re lucky my family’s asleep. My mom’s the type of person who would call the cops on you.” Probably not my dad, but my mom, sure. “And it goes without saying, why aren’t you doing this at your place?”

“Are you fucking kidding? My mom knows where all the stash spots are. So I stashed them over here, where your folks don’t know shit about where the hidey holes are.” She grinned. “Actually, speaking of hidey holes, that sister of yours – Marble? Maybe she’d want to play—”

Triggered. And that’s a word I don’t usually use.

I bend down. “You even think that one more time and you’ll find out why older sisters tend to be protective.” I’m probably making a big mistake by threatening her; I don’t know if she can fight, and I certainly don’t know if I can. I mean, I’m a cheerleader and I take dance classes, and though I’m not proud of it, I’ve been taking those free freestyle karate courses at the community center. I tell them it’s to help with my dance exercises, and they believe it, but I haven’t told Uncle Carrot or Auntie Cup about it, because I know they’ll ask.

Fortunately for me, I guess I sounded convincing enough or Hope is so high it doesn’t matter. “Fine, fine – grass probably hasn’t grown in the field yet anyway, so I can’t use her playground anyway,” she says, waving it off. “But I bet you’re all kinds of fun in your amusement park.”

“Classy,” I droll. “Now, I’m going back to the house. I can see this spot from here, so you have until then to pack up and get off my family’s property, got it?”

She looks at me with a distinct lack of comprehension before looking down at the ground. “Fine. And here I’d hoped I could actually make a friend around this shithole.” She gets up and stretches. “You know, I thought you were being real about being a friend. And yeah, you’re hot, but I said I wouldn’t, and I meant it. I just…nevermind. You don’t give a shit, anyway.” She turns to leave and mutters, “Can’t get a fucking break in life at all.”

Something about this feels very wrong. Not sure why, but it does. And then I remember something I’d said a while back to Twi – Princess Twilight, the alien from another world that looks like Sunny’s sister. I remember those words all too well – I wish I could forget them or at least take them away.

“No! I’m never going to forgive her, no matter what you ask! I want that bitch to burn, I want her to smoke like a Goddamn cigar in the deepest, blackest pits of hell, do you hear me? She ruined my life! She’ll ruin everyone’s again! Right now, if you gave me a gun, I’d point it at her head, pull the trigger and laugh without a care!”

That day, I wanted two people to die: both Sunny and I. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I think I scared Twi a little. I’d say I didn’t mean to, but looking back on it, I meant every word of it back then. And now?

Now I look at the girl standing across from me and wonder if I’m making another mistake by pushing away. Thank God Sunny reached out to me instead or I wouldn’t have the precious friend that I do. That should’ve been a grade A lesson for me that day – maybe it was the one that Twi was trying to impart to me.

I look at Hope and say, “Look, if you need to get away for a while, I get it. It’s just…put the shit away, please? I don’t play those games.”

Hope gives me a look that makes me wonder if I’m going to regret this. “Yes, mom,” she snarks.

“Look, what you do is your life, but with all my extracurricular activities I can’t afford to screw things up for myself. So if you want to be my friend, ditch the stuff, at least for now, okay?”

She looks at me and wonders. “Fine, fine, but you owe me for this shit, okay?” she finally says. “You know how hard it is to get decent weed in this place?”

“No, and I particularly don’t care. What’s your problem, anyway?”

“As if you fucking care.”

“Try me,” I tell her.

“I would, but you won’t take off your panties.” I give her a glare that Fluttershy would be proud of (sorta), and she shakes her head. “Fine, I got what you meant.” She sat back down, popped open another beer, and then drank it, not caring about my opinion. “I want out of this wasteland of a fuck town, you know? Just can’t wait to get back home with my old man – running away first chance I get.”

“Running away? Why?”

“Because I fuck girls, okay? Because my best friend Tiramisu turned out to be a little more than besties, okay? Because Mom walked into my bedroom with my fingers in the pie – and I’m not talking mine, got it?” I look at her and to my surprise, I see a little emotion on her face – something I wasn’t expecting.

I sit down next to her and urge her to continue.

“Tira? God, she’s great, one of a kind. We were just friends, and we just seemed to match, you know? It’s just like one moment, we were just hanging out like friends, and the next, we were liplocking, and it was…well, pure.” Listening to her, I know that tone in her voice: the sound of someone in love. “And then that bigoted bitch had to break us up.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah,” she spat, the anger clear on her face for me to see. “You know, Princess Amore may be one of the top romance writers in the country, but for being a mom? Failure, plus. Probably why my old man left her – ‘cause she only knows love just from being bullshit on paper.” The look in her eyes was bleak, another thing I’ve known in my life. “Dad probably would’ve let me stay with Tira, but not meant to be. Mom pulled me here to this fucking wasteland because she could avoid a scandal that way.” Her laughter was bitter as she added, “Yeah, as if your daughter being in love is a scandal just ‘cause she kissed a girl and she liked it.”

I don’t know what to say other than I feel her pain in so many ways it’s not funny. I know my dad would accept what I am, but my mom? There aren’t enough ways in the world to say “oh fuck no” to that. And then there’s my aunt and uncle. I really don’t know how they would react. Sure, they treat everyone with respect and dignity regardless of the usual creed, color, et cetera, but there’s them and then there’s me. The abstracts in all the world mean nothing if the stark reality is much different.

I look at her and I see myself in her shoes. If I were separated from my friends, from those I care about and…. I feel myself shudder and I wrap my arms around myself for warmth, even though I’m not really cold. After all, it’s not the air that’s pouring ice water through my veins right now.

“And your mom really hates you for that?” I ask.

Hope nodded sadly. “All I want is to be back with Tira! That’s all I want! Is it so wrong to want to be with my girlfriend?” I could see the tears in her eyes, and they were real – they had to be. I’ve seen crocodile tears before, and while I don’t exactly consider myself an expert at those kinds of things, this just seems too real. I mean, I’ve met some master manipulators in my time.

It’s scary that I know that at my age.

We spend the entire time talking right up until the sun starts to creep over the horizon. At this point she pulls out her phone and looks at it. “Well, looks like I gotta go pretend to get some sleep, so that my mom doesn’t suspect anything,” she tells me.

“Yeah, same. My dad would be okay with it, and my aunt and uncle are used to it, but something tells me my mom still thinks it’s the 1950s,” I admit. Which probably isn’t all that far from the truth – I suspect my mother, if she had a chance, would insist I wear nothing but baby-blue and pink clothing, probably festooned with balloons or something. And while I like balloons…seriously? Baby-blue and pink? What am I, some dress-me-up toy doll?

As we both stand up, she looks at me with appreciation. “You know, you’re not all bad, you know that?”

“Yeah, people kinda tell me that,” I joke.

To my surprise, she bends over and kisses me on the cheek. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to who isn’t a total retard. Thanks for listening.”

I try not to react. That was the exact same thing that Cicely had said and done to me when she was flirting with me. And like a stupid, naïve child, I didn’t get it. I don’t think Hope means anything by it, but just the flash to the past is making my skin crawl. I hope I didn’t react and I hope I didn’t give off any bad signals. That would be the worst thing right now.

Waving goodbye, I head back towards the house, and as I walk in, of all the luck, I come across my mother as she’s coming down the stairs. “What were you doing outside, Pinkamena?” she asks me.

“I’m used to going jogging in the morning,” I reply reflexively, though it is the truth. I’ve always gone jogging in the morning. For one, I like the sunrises as they welcome the new day. Plus, then I get to go home and smell the first batches baking in the ovens.

“You don’t look like you’re dressed for that,” she insists, then sniffs the air. For a minute, I pause and wonder if enough of Hope’s marijuana smoke got on my clothing and that’s what my mom’s smelling – and oh boy would I be in trouble then; even my aunt and uncle wouldn’t let me get away with anything like that. Then I remember, this is my mom, who thinks that marijuana is some sort of Spanish name, go figure.

“I went out for a walk. Didn’t bring my workout gear, and I didn’t think you wanted me to run outside naked.” Instantly I realize that is probably the worst possible thing to say.

I see Mom’s eyes narrow. “Don’t give me sass, child.” I opt to say nothing. My big mouth’s already caused me enough issues as is. “Again, what were you doing out there?”

“What, can’t I take a walk?” I’m not happy, and why should I be? My mother doesn’t trust me to even go outside! Yeah, sure, I was out all night, but it’s not like I was doing what Hope was doing! And while I don’t have any real reason to protect Hope, the fact that it would probably only make my mom even more pissed is more than enough reason for me not to say a single thing.

To my surprise, she softens and admits, “Pinkamena, I’m not so much worried about you as I am about that other girl – what was her name? Radiant Dawn?”

“Hope. Radiant Hope. Why is it I know your neighbors better than you do?”

“Don’t get me wrong; Mrs. Amore is a decent enough soul, even if she does something…distasteful…for a living.” And somehow, as if that were enough to say about that, that was that. “I’m going to make breakfast. You should go wash up.”

I don’t say anything and just turn away, heading back up toward the stairs. Sleep is shot and I need to take my daily pill regimen before I....

No. Never again.

I hear a familiar, comforting chuckle and a voice say, “I see I’m not the only one who’s a creature of habit.”

I smile, reach over and hug my aunt, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Auntie,” I tell her with all the love in the world. Maybe I should feel guilty about that. Naaaaaah.

“So what’re you doing up so early?”

“Got up to go running, realized I forgot my clothing and decided to take a walk.” I feel bad about lying to my aunt, but I need to keep my story straight. Granted, if push came to shove, Auntie Cup would believe me before she would believe Mom, but why compound bad with worse? I’m already screwing up as is.

“Well, this is a week to relax – and I should tell myself that,” she says. “Your uncle already decided to sleep in, the lazy bum.”

“Uncle Carrot deserves it. Plus, I’m sure the twins kept you two up all night,” I yawn. I really need some sleep.

“Actually, they were quiet last night, thankfully.” She yawned again, and added, “I guess I should freshen up and see if my sister needs any help in the kitchen. If I’m lucky, we can have a conversation without one of us wanting to bite the other’s head off, for a change.”

I nod at that, give her a smile once more and then head back into the room I’m using. I strip off my dew-soaked clothing – funny that I didn’t notice that earlier, go fig – and then climb back into bed. My mother would be completely scandalized to find me sleeping in my panties and bra, but that wouldn’t surprise me.

But I have to wonder, am I not giving her enough credit? Good or bad, she is my mom. And as strained as it can be at times, it is better than the relationship that some of my friends have with their parents. Lyra, for example, has parents who would get along swimmingly with my mom; at least I can take solace in the fact that my dad would stick up for me if he ever found out my sexual orientation. Then there’s Derpy, who doesn’t speak to her mother unless it’s legally required – and vice versa. If I remember correctly, her aunt (wow, a familiar pattern!) acts as her mother figure to the point that I think she mentioned that she thinks her father and her aunt are dating. But again, she hates admitting that her mother is world-famous fashion photographer Artiste Boheme.

Hrm…think I noticed a pattern here. Any of my friends who have well-known parents don’t have too good of a relationship with them. I wonder what that’s like. Makes me wonder if Flutters’ father is the same way; she doesn’t talk about him much, though she said he’s still alive.

Probably shouldn’t dwell on it, anyway.

I’m starting to drift off to sleep when I hear a chirp. I reach over to my phone and look at it and give it a lazy smile. Tavi posted a picture of her and Sunny at that swanky event that they’re attending in LA. Tavi looks absolutely gorgeous, but then I look at Sunny….

My heart stops in my chest, and I feel warm all over. I want to reach out into the picture and hold her, look into those eyes forever and…

No. I can’t. I know what this is, but I can’t! That’s the kind of thing that destroys friendships and besides, Sunny’s straight as far as I know. Besides, maybe it’s just a brief infatuation. I know Rarity thinks that I’m mistaking it for admiration of the way Sunny’s changed her stripes. Maybe she’s right and I’m letting what happened to me in the past color my actions and my opinions. Causation causes results, I think Twily would say.

And yet when I look into those beautiful aqua eyes, I just want to get lost in them forever, like a Caribbean sea I could swim in fendlessly….

I….

I set the phone down, biting my lip in frustration. I know what this is, I think, and if I let it, then I could ruin us all. And I love my friends too much to let that happen.

The irony is so thick I could cut a knife with it.

March 25, PM: Season's Trees

I wake up in the late morning, and I already know I’m not going to hear the end of it. From all the times I’ve been here, Mom has been a big believer in people eating breakfast, lunch and dinner like clockwork, and I woke up way too late for breakfast and at least a couple of hours for lunch.

As I’m getting up, there’s a knock on the door, and before I can even respond, my mother comes in. I guess she really doesn’t particularly care much about my sisters’ privacy, not that I should be particularly surprised. Once again, she finds a way to prove my point that while I love my her, she doesn’t make it easy to like her.

“Pinkamena, are you going to sleep in all day?” she asks me.

“No, I’m up,” I tell her. “It should be rather obvious.”

“Good – I don’t want you to start picking up your uncle’s unsavory habits.” I restrain myself from wanting to chew her out right then and there. Uncle Carrot deserves to sleep in, especially given he’s always the first one up back at home! Always watching the twins, making sure I’m ready for the day…. He’s a freakin’ saint, and you have the temerity to complain because he gets to sleep in once in a while?

“Get dressed – and get dressed properly. You’re coming with me downtown to meet some friends of mine and I want you dressed like a proper lady. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.” Apparently I don’t have a choice; I’m sure that if I asked my aunt, she’d tell me to do it just to spend some bonding time with my mother. And in the abstract I would agree. It’s just that there’s a reason why hydrogen peroxide and sulfuric acid don’t exactly go well together.

Still, we are here so I can see my parents. And I did get to spend a decent amount of time with my father yesterday. Who knows? Maybe by spending some quality time with my maternal unit, we can finally start bonding!

What the hell was I thinking?

I’m now here in the Sunrise Symphony Diner in wonderful Rockton (a suburb of Bentonville just to the east; technically the farm’s address is in Rockton), where my mother is meeting with her weekly Bible study group. They’re all a bunch of women who got far older than they actually are, self-judgmental and critical of anything that isn’t within their narrow purview. And the sad thing is? My mother is one of the more progressive people here! At least she didn’t whisper “whore” as I went to go sit down.

And “whore”? Seriously? Yeah, I know, I know – I get down on myself a little sometimes, a little self-Pinkie flagellation. But my friends would never consider me that, and I know Sunny would absolutely never! And it’s not like I’m dressed risqué; I’m wearing a yellow sundress Rarity made for me just for the trip. And I don’t even like dresses. Skirts, sure, wear them often, but I prefer jeans. But I guess I had to put up a show for Mom’s sake and what do I get?

“Whore.”

Yeah, thanks for widening the generation gap, you Boomer bitch.

Sometimes I start to see why Derpy tends to hide her feelings behind that über-snarky exterior of hers.

So at the moment, I’m seated at the kids’ table (Yeah. “Kids”. At my age.) while the “adults” are talking about whatever it is they’re talking about that I’m busy ignoring – could be Matthew 7:5 (that’s the one about being a hypocrite), macramé, or taking over the world through coup de etats and custard pies. Don’t really know, don’t really care. The majority of those of us at the kids’ table are actual children, and like children anywhere, they’re bored out of their gourds and their parents are too self-absorbed in their own interests to pay attention to their children. I swear, if I ever have kids, I’m going to make sure they understand how much love they’re gonna get, Pinkie-style!

But there’s one girl my age, a girl with fair skin, deep blue eyes, and gray hair with black and yellow highlights. She’s introduced herself as Jolly. She seems decent enough, and during the coffee break, when everyone stops what they’re doing – or not doing – and goes to get refreshments, she steps outside the diner and asks me to come with her.

“You don’t seem like a local girl,” she tells me. “Saw you come in with Mrs. Quartz. Visiting your aunt?”

“Other way around, actually,” I explain. “I live with my aunt and uncle in Canterlot. I’m in town to visit my parents.”

Not surprisingly, her eyes light up in that way I was talking about with Hope yesterday. “You’re from California? That’s so cool!”

After I try to explain that no, that didn’t mean LA or San Fran, we finally get to talk. Jolly has lived here her whole life and apparently, Maud babysat for her a few times, so she has that in common with me. She attends Rockton High, and is a part of the book club. In a sense, she’s a country Twily with far less friends and decidedly (as far as I know) missing one incredibly hot sister.

Well, she’s also got a nutjob for a mother as well, so…even odds, I guess?

She looks around at this place, then asks, me, “So…what do you think about all this?”

“I…I try not to,” I admit, wondering if I’m about to offend a new friend. Usually pissing off people she just met is Rainbow’s job.

“It’s okay,” she said to me with a smile, trying to put me at ease, I guess. “I’m not as much into this hardcore stuff, either. Granted, I do believe in God and Christ and all, that, but…this is a bit too much for me. I know my mother’s into it, but me? I’m more about the loving people than the judging them…at least for the most part.”

“The most part?”

“Yeah, you know, the usual parts of life and all the teenage stupidity that comes with it?” She gives me a weak smile. “I…tend to get picked on at school a lot because I’m into working on cars and engineering and such. There’s this one girl, especially, that pushes all my buttons. She keeps aggressively trying to get in my pants, and I do mean aggressively! Based on how she acts half the time I’m afraid that hitting on me might turn into just hitting me if I keep turning her down!”

I want to be surprised at that, but I’m not. High school is a cruel world filled with some of the sweetest and kindest people you know…as well as the worst kinds of monsters. And I wish I didn’t know that from experience.

We talk for a little while longer, and I get the sense this girl is as damaged as I am, though in a different way. A kindred spirit, who, if she was in Canterlot, I could see going to those weekly meetings for the Club’s victims…a meeting that I know I should be the star attraction in, but one I can never be a part of. My confessions are for those who know the truth about it all, and the pain that they can handle, a pain that sometimes I’m not sure that I can entirely handle anymore.

Jolly and I trade phone numbers and I invite her over to the farm. Maybe if I talk to her in a better setting, I can help. I’ve been there, maybe in a worse way, and while I’m sure her situation’s a relative cakewalk compared to mine, she probably feels the pain just as keenly, and no one deserves to have their world turned upside down by anyone at all. Besides, she sounds like she could use a friend, and even if I’m just here for a while, I can be that friend.

What was it Twi says? Friendship is magic?

Yeah, let’s go with that.

I get back to my parents’ place and really, there’s not much to do here, except for read – and I have a funny feeling I’m going to run out of reading material real quick – and maybe some other stuff. If I were the kind of person Sunny used to be, I’d go through my sister’s stuff, but that would be a personal violation. After all, I’m hiding stuff from my family; my siblings deserve to have their own secrets, even if my mother would disagree.

Almost makes me wonder if she does go through their stuff when they’re not here. Also creeps me out to the point that I’m glad I brought a backpack, because I’ll be keeping all my private stuff with me just to be on the safe side, not that I brought anything too personal, anyway. I’d hate to see what she’d think of my diary. Maybe that’s a sign I should stop keeping one.

Anyway, as we’re pulling into the driveway, I see Dad and Uncle Carrot packing fishing gear into his car. Didn’t know either of them fished, but maybe it’s just a way for them to get out of the house, not that I blame them. Even if you include Pound, the double-Xs outnumber the XYs, and I’m sure boys will be boys and all that. Besides, Uncle Carrot has more than earned this and it’ll be good for them to get out of the house for a while, if only so they can avoid the argument sessions between Mom and Auntie Cup. Personally, I’d be tempted to go along with (even though fishing kinda squicks me out), just to avoid it as well, but hey, they probably need bonding time.

So as I head up to the room I can already hear the first round of bickering between my aunt and my mother. Not wanting to deal with it, I decide to keep going and hope my day improves, like maybe a text from Rarity or a picture from Sunny. Hell, at this point I’d even take an eye that floats, silent and unblinking, in my kitchen back in Canterlot. I mean, my life can’t get any stranger than it already is, right? Friend of an alien princess…

…wondering about where I stand with another…

…yeah, so there’s that. Something that I’ve known for the longest time: Sunset, one of my best friends in the world, is probably a princess, just like Princess Twilight. Worse, she’s in exile for arguing with her mother – Princess Celestia. It’s funny, even before she told us about that, I already knew, somehow. After all, for the longest time, the only one she would really listen to was our school principal, and I noted that whenever I saw Sunny in unguarded moments around Ms. Celestia, there was a certain…longing? Absence? Saudade? The point being that I knew it had to be something more than the mere “Sunny needs to have an adult whack her upside the head”, and something far more familiar to her – familial to her.

Besides, it was part of what got her to change her ways, so I’m glad, because her change saved more than just herself. She saved me, too, and for that, I’m forever grateful in ways I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express. Besides, she proves that there’s still hope for a person like me, that proves that even someone as damaged and forlorn as me can still have someone like Sunny to care for me.

After all…doesn’t the old myth say that only virgins can associate with unicorns?

And yet she’s still around. Makes me smile.

It’s halfway through watching my second movie on the laptop that my phone rings, with a particular ringtone that I set for one specific person.

“But don’t call it love –
Call it a longing,
Call it a yearning,
Don’t call it love…
Call it a sweet dream

“Shh don’t say nothing…”

Hey, it’s my favorite song by Zero 7, and besides, I have ringtones for all my friends – about a gig on my SD card is just for that! Plus, really, it was that or something by Blue Six, but couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head.

Without even looking at it I pick up the phone and answer. “Sunny!” I can’t help but chirp.

“Oh, heya, Pinkie. How goes?” I hear that sweet voice and I just want to cuddle up with it. But moreso with its owner. “Just another day in La-la-land on my end. Looking at the same museum over and over gets kinda dull after a while. What about you?”

I miss you, I want to tell her, and I’m not sure why. It’s not as though I’ll never see her again. But those are the words that want to tumble out of my mouth. Sure, I do miss her – I miss all my friends, and I even said as much about ten minutes ago when I sent a quick text off to AJ, who’s also visiting her family farm and if I could get away with it, I’d make the two-hour drive south to go see her, but as it is my parents would never give me that kind of permission and to be honest, even Uncle Carrot and Auntie Cup would balk a little at that.

So I tell her an edited version of hanging around with Hope last night as well as meeting Jolly earlier today, the issues with my mother and how I got to hang around a bit and bond with Dad yesterday, the fact that Mom is being, well, Mom and the usual kind of stuff. What I don’t tell her is the other things going through my mind right now because I’m not sure I’m completely certain of what they are or even if I want them there. Deep down inside I know what the answer is even though my brain is telling me something entirely different.

“Pinkie? You there?”

“Oh, sorry, Sunny!” I blurt, laughing nervously. I didn’t space out, really! “I was just thinking of something.”

“So, we’re going to the Golden Apple tomorrow. It’s supposed to be the best comic book store in the world. Need me to pick you up anything?”

I want to remind her that it’s Rainbow who reads comics and both her and Flutters who read manga. Strangely enough, I’ve never really gotten into them, being more of a videogame kind of girl. “Isn’t there an import store across the street from there? I remember there being one when we went a few years back.”

“I don’t know. I can ask Tavi or maybe Midge; Midge might know since she’s a local. But did you want me to pick you up anything in particular?”

“I’ll have to think about it.” I pull my finger out of my hair; I was twirling my hair around it and I know I’ve only done that when it came to two other people and I’d rather not think about them right now. Or ever, for that matter.

“Well, I hate to end this call so soon, but my battery’s about to die. I can call you tomorrow if you want.”

You have no idea how much I want you to. “If you have time, otherwise just text me if the store’s there.”

“Okay, will do.” I hear a pause and knowing her, she knows something’s up. “Pinkie, is everything okay?”

I want to…. I block out the thought, lest it slip to my lips. “Everything’s fine,” I lie, and I hate myself for doing so. “Just…tired. Tired of arguing with my mother all the time.”

“I…kinda know how that is,” she tells me, and I have to wonder once again about what brought her here, what drove her away from the life she led in another reality to choose this misbegotten hell we humans call life?

And I’m supposed to be the cheerful one amongst my friends. Sometimes I wonder if they’d still think the same thing if they ever saw my train of thought.

I reluctantly end my call with Sunny and wonder if I should talk to any of my other friends, as opposed to going downstairs and deal with my mother and my aunt probably bickering as usual. Suddenly trying to talk them into letting me drive down to Heavener doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all. I mean, AJ visiting her family can’t be any worse than my situation, right?

It’s about then that I hear a rapping sound against my window. I open the curtains to see Hope standing there, leaning on a ladder. I can probably guess where she got it from. The moment I open the pane, she says, “C’mon! Took my Mom’s car, so let’s go somewhere!”

The way she says that makes me wonder. “Did you get permission?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Fuck no! That bitch is so tied up in her writing she wouldn’t notice if I had an orgy right in front of her desk! Now you coming, or what?”

Every instinct of mine is telling me this is a bad idea. That she’s going to get in trouble for taking her mother’s car, and I’m going to get in trouble for going along with the ride. I could tell my family that I didn’t know, but I wouldn’t lie to them – I know I really couldn’t, at least not to Uncle Carrot and Auntie Cup.

I pause only to grab my backpack before I head out the window. I’ll have to think of something to tell everyone later. Maybe making a friend here will cover that…even if I know my mother doesn’t like Hope.

Then again, I’m not sure she likes anyone.

Well, I’ll say this much: Mrs. Amore’s Lexus is a hella nice SUV. And I didn’t know there was a drive-in here, but there is: the Rock Ridge Drive-In, where you can watch two movies for only $10 a car. Hope and I stopped off and picked up some stuff from Walmart before heading here and choosing the films. Didn’t really care what was showing, just wanted to get out of the house.

Between movies I check my cellphone. Sure enough, there’s eight texts and two calls from my mother demanding to know where the hell I am, as well as one single text from Auntie Cup wanting to know if I’m okay. I respond to hers, letting her know where I am and to let Mom know not to worry, as if that’s going to make a bit of difference.

As I slide my phone back in my backpack, Hope just looks at me, rolling her eyes. “Daddy’s girl always has to keep in touch with home?”

“My aunt, actually. I’ve lived with them my whole life, and arguably they’re probably my parents more than my actual parents are, if that makes sense,” I tell her.

“Hey, just fucking with you, okay? Wish either of my parents gave a fuck about me like that. Well, my old man does, but my mom? Well…I’ve told you more than enough about that.”

I give her a wistful smile. “I’m sure your mom loves you.”

“I doubt it. After all, I like me the pink taco, and that really ruins whatever ‘boy fucks me’ fantasies she cooks up for her novels.” Hope looks really agitated. I wish I could do something, but I’m not sure it’s my place. “You don’t know what I’d do right now to be with Tira. And it wasn’t just the sex, though that was fun. It was being with someone I loved and who I knew loved me. We were more than just best friends, Pinkie. We were two hearts, beating as one. We’re like the season’s trees, blooming brightly in a springtime love before the winter of sorrow tears us away.”

I think that’s probably the most eloquent thing I’ve ever heard her say. And I know how it is about being more than just best friends. Or maybe I don’t. I’m not completely sure.

I feel her hand on mine, see her eyes as she looks into mine. “You know what I mean, Pinkie?”

It bothers me that I do.

Author's Note

In case you're curious what song is on Pinkie's ringtone for Sunset:

/michaelgraye/dont-call-it-love-12-version

March 26, AM: Somersault

I’m standing on top of a mountain, and the night sky is above me, a deep blue shroud rained upon by countless stars. I don’t know what mountain this is: it’s not Shasta or Lassen, given that I can’t see the bright lights of Canterlot and its suburbs, which I’m told is so bright you can see it all the way from the summit of Lassen. The other “big” (and I use that term loosely) town in the area I should see if I were near Lassen: Ponyville. Even though it’s a mostly rural town, there’s enough of a civilization there that I should see something, right?

But I see nothing. Only the endless darkness below, as if the world was plunged into inky depths. I shudder involuntarily, though I don’t know whether that’s from the majestic black stretching before me, or the rocky summit beneath my feet. I force myself to look away from it to avoid both vertigo and the potential for anything else.

It’s then that I see something above me that makes me wonder where I am: the sky. It is a deep blue, filled with so many colors and sights that I cannot comprehend it. I remember a time when we all went to the top of Shasta to go stargazing back in November; that was a blast, and Twily had both her and her dad’s telescopes, and all of us looked at the beautiful skies above.

I don’t recognize any of these constellations. Where are the Big and Little Dippers? Hydra? Bootes? I can’t spot a single one, and I have to wonder if I’m somewhere else in my dream.

And then I see it.

The Moon, Luna…the place Ms. Luna was named after, I’m sure. Only…it’s not our moon. I don’t see the Man in the Moon, or what those in the Far East call the Rabbit in the Moon. All it is, is a blank gray ball of rock, pocked with craters like ours, but missing the dark, distinctive maria that created myths and emblems of culture. An otherwise completely unnatural edifice in the celestial firmament and another sign I don’t belong here.

“‘Tis a quaint night, isn’t it?” I turn to see a girl my age…and oh, when the hell did I step into a RenFaire? She’s got long, golden hair braided down and held in place by a golden clasp. Her blue eyes are piercing and knowing, as if she’s seen a lot. She’s wearing armor, but it looks like something out of Fire Emblem or the Fate series: a silvery sheen, with golden inlay, polished to a brilliant shine. Her gambeson is made of a luxurious silk of black, as is her surcoat, without ornament or device. She’s carrying a dozen roses, and at her side is a bastard sword with a hilt and crossguard that seems to be made out of crystal.

“Um…yeah,” I tell her, and she gives me a smile.

“Worry not, stranger, I understand thee. Thy speech is unusual, but still His Majesty's English.” She then walks over to something I hadn’t noticed before: a sword, embedded in a stone. Yes, I’ve been to Disneyland when I was a kid and I got to pull the sword partially up from the stone in Fantasyland, but this is the real deal. Like Clarent, the sword from the Matter of Britain that said Arthur was to be King of the Britons, long before some watery tart gave him a pigsticker.

Yes, I’ve seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Great film.

“Is that…?” I ask.

She sets the flowers down. “I tend this cairn whenever I can, because of a gage. I swore yond I at each moment wouldst, and assumed the duty. I still hast this holidam hath kept after all this.” She then looks at me with a glance of expectation. “But anon this duty shall cometh to its ende, grant you mercy to thee.”

“I…I don’t understand,” I tell her.

“Thou servest the Rose, just as I the Quill. These duties art beyond life, and sworn fealties of eternity.” Setting down the roses before the sword, she comes over and hugs me. “‘Tis most wondrous to see a fellow Guardswoman. I at each moment bethought I wast high-lone, but anon I hast a counterpart, someone who shall ken this heavy burden.”

“Counterpart?”

She looks at me and then clarity fills her face. “Ah! ‘Tis not thy time yet! Yond might not but art wherefore thou weareth this strange garb instead of the armor of thy station! Mine own apologies, fellow swordswoman. But lief, thee and I shalt tend to our eternal duties, and we shalt serve our regents with capability and honor.” She looked at my hair. “Prithee, tell me thus: Wherefore is thy hair the color of the first rays of dawn in the sky?”

“Why’s my hair pink? It’s natural. It’s why my name is Pinkie! Okay, well, Pinkamena, and it’s more than just that, but it makes sense, sorta.”

“How wondrous.” I hear her laugh once more, and it sets me at ease. She may have stepped off the set of Game of Thrones, but she seems nice enough.

“I remember the time before: I wast the daughter of the stablemaster of our lord’s estate, a young wench worth less than mine brother, who wast already pledged a squire to one of the lord's knights. As for me, if it be true I wast fortuned, mine own fate wouldst be to marrye a valorous sir and beare that gent children. But then I wast walking through the moors near the abbey in Ponyshire, and I tumbled in. I bethought I wast dead – naught valorous cometh of falling into a bog! But then I wast withdrawn by these wondrous creatures who feared me for reasons I knew not. Those gents tooke me afore their queen, and the lady did look at me with eyes of faith, as if it be true the lady were mine own mother.

“The lady spake to me I wast special, yond our kind were feared amongst the peoples, but yond the lady couldst ken I wast cut from a different cloth. And yond the lady did need a fearless maiden, one yond wouldst roam the leagues in her name and protecte her people forever. Yond I wouldst be the Free Knight, beholden to none but her. And the lady did train me, both in swordcraft and the arcane arts, and though I shall never bear mine own children, I hast been honored with something most wondrous: an immortal duty to defend those in need. A holidam thee too shall lief take.”

She pointed there.“ I am the Free Knight, bearing mine sword in the name of mine own grand mistress, the Quill. Someday, thee shall take yond blade and beare‘t in the name of thy sovereign, her Free Knight serving an ancient duty.” She drew her own sword. “The Rose shall have need of thee, and as mine own blade Carnwennan stands at mine own side, someday yond shall be thy arms.”

I looked at the sword and wondered why I would. I was probably getting tetanus just looking at it. It wasn’t like those art blades you see in stores all the time, but something that had been up here since, well, probably forever and I wasn’t touching that unless I had a metric fuckton of WD40 and a hazmat suit…and probably not after that, either.

“Take it.” I turn to see an old man standing there, in rusted armor, looking sad and forlorn. “I couldst not save mine own mistress at which hour t’was time, I couldst not giveth her happiness. Thee wilt at each moment see to thine – thou hast already done blest thine lady at which hour she did need it.”

“Are you kidding me?” I tell them both. “I can name at least seven different diseases I could get just by being in that thing’s vicinity! And you want me to touch it?”

“The sword knoweth its true master. I wast once’t, but I did fail mine own true love, mine own sovereign at which hour the lady did need me most. Thou has’t succeeded where I couldst not – thou art a true Free Knight. And at which hour the time cometh, the sword shall ken thee.”

The girl smiles.“ Now behold, Free Knight of the Rose, and see Sooth.”

I turn to look at the sword, and it’s…different. The hilt seems to have been made from the vines of a rose, even the thorns, but somehow I know they cannot hurt me. The guard is made of gold, and on it are three balloons, all gleaming brightly as if their only presence is to spread joy.And the blade itself? It is now gleaming metal, silvery and shiny, with a channel filigreed with gold.

I walk over to the sword and touch it; it yearns to be withdrawn. I do and as I do, my clothing changes. Armor of silver, inlaid with blue, yellow and pink, cover me. My gambeson and surcoat are pink, and of a beautiful silk that feels like a second skin. The armor looks like something out of an anime, but it feels natural, like a dress Rarity put together. And everything at that moment feels right.

The old man and the girl give me a smile, then bow before me, giving me the due of a fellow Guardian.

And I know the sword’s name instantly.

Boop.

I sit up with a start, and think about the dream I just had. I did have a dream, did I? I remember a girl who thought I had a weird hair color (pink isn’t exactly rare) and some old man. There was a mountain? Night?

I shake my head. I don’t remember anything. Probably wasn’t important, anyway.

Besides, I have plans for today and I don’t have any particular reason to stick around here.

I go downstairs, and sure as a rooster would crow at sunup (or so the cliché says), my mother and my aunt are in the kitchen, making breakfast and bickering. At this point, I have to assume that’s how they express any feelings towards each other, because I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t even know each other were it not for the fact that they’re related. Dad is already getting ready for the day, and Uncle Carrot is feeding the kids. Seems like I was the last one up. Oh well.

Auntie Cup notices me first. “Good morning, Pinkie! Plans for today?”

I give my aunt my sunniest smile, and out of the corner of my eye I see my mother frowning; I guess she’s expected that I should have given it to her, instead. I try not to wilt.

“Pinkamena, can I have a word with you?” I turn to see my father, giving me a concerned look. I don’t even need to guess what gave me away, stupid hair.

“Um, sure, Dad, what’s up?” I ask as he leads me to the living room. I can see Uncle Carrot wanting to follow along, given that he usually handles the parenting stuff for me, but a quick look between him and Dad changes his mind.

A few seconds later, he and I sit down on the couch. “Pinkamena, are you and your mother still having issues?” Before I can even answer, he looks at me. “I know life here isn’t easy for you, sweetheart. You were never meant for this life, and from everything Carrot and Cup have told me, you excel there in Canterlot. You have some of the best grades in school and you’re the star of the cheerleaders—”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Dad,” I tell him. Seriously. Sweet Swings and Somersault are the big two when it comes to the squad. I mean, sure, I have fun, but I don’t think I could be a cheerleader for the rest of my life, dating some NFL linebacker who can only say two words and all those clichés. Sorry, no hookers and blow for this Pinkie.

“I would. Your Uncle showed me the video of the triple flip you did when CHS was playing some other school. You jumped high enough that I was honestly a bit worried, but he told me you were fine and sure enough, at the end you landed perfectly and to the roar of the crowds.” Dad looked at me and gave me the kind of smile that made me feel all gooey inside.“I’m proud of the woman you’re becoming, Pinkamena. I wish I could be there for more of it, but just knowing that you’re thriving where you are is enough for me.”

“But never enough for Mom.” The words flow out of my mouth unbidden, and the moment I realize I said them, it’s too late to take them away.

“I know, Pinkamena. I love your mother, but…well, marriage isn’t the easiest thing in the world, and you’ll find that out someday. I know you see your mother as somewhat…disciplinarian, but she’s not like that all the time. She just wants the best for her girls, and she really doesn’t quite understand the paths that you and Maud have taken.”

“I thought Maud was studying geology so she could come back to the farm?”

Dad shook his head and looks at me. “Maud? She’s more focused on that Kennelworth boy of hers than this place. Mark my words: in five years, you’re going to have a brother in law, and some school in Texas will have a new geology professor.” He shook his head again, and I watched a small smile come onto his lips.“ Like you, Maud just wasn’t made for this place. Your kid sisters will keep the family legacy going, and I’m sure they’ll have everything in their hands.”

“I wasn’t planning on coming back, Dad. This…this isn’t my life.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He gives me a look, the kind of look that lets me know he knows more than he lets on. “I never expected you to come back more than you do, nor do I expect anything different from Maud. Your mother will understand someday, I promise you.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“She will. She has to, sweetheart. That’s just the way of the world, and there’s no one that can change it.” I know he’s wrong; probability dictates that things are always in flux and that just because you say one thing doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s permanent. The only thing permanent in this world, I suppose, is impermanence, but that’s just me.

“Now c’mon,” he tells me with a soft smile. “Breakfast is getting a run on, and I’m sure you’ve got a long day ahead of you with your friends.” He gives me a grin and another knowing look. “I know you made friends with Mrs. Amore’s daughter, and I heard you made friends with one of the girls at your mother’s Bible study sessions.”

As we walk back to the kitchen, I wonder if I’m not the only one who inherited Granny Pie’s particular talent set. But I don’t think it’s appropriate to ask my dad.

Well, not right now, anyway.

“Heya, Pinkie!” After I texted her, I decided to meet up with Jolly for a few hours, especially since Hope decided to sleep in. So after grabbing my sister’s bike, I took a very uncomfortable hour-long bike ride into town…and uncomfortable because as horrible a condition as Inkie’s (or is it Blinkie’s?) bike is in, I may as well have rode a penny-farthing into town.

Jolly, of course, arrives on a motorcycle, one she built herself in her school’s auto shop. She’s got a grin on her face that reminds me all too much of Rainbow at her worst, which means that I’m probably going to have fun. Thankfully, not in a bad way.

“Yeah, my pride and joy: a 1946 Indian,” she tells me, patting the side of her brick-red ride. “Still working out the kinks, though.” She looks at the bike I’m riding and asks, “Want to go for a ride?”

“Sure!” I chirp, hopping onto the back of the bike. I remember a conversation once I had with Sunny; she was considering saving up for a motorcycle until the warehouse she was living in was demolished. Now her foster parents won’t let her have one since they think it’s too dangerous. Besides, she says she wants a car instead, now.

A few minutes later, we’re off, and racing eastwards. We’re going as fast as possible and in order to not fall off, I’m leaning in closer to her, and as I do, I can smell her body wash, her shampoo, and it’s driving me wild. Only one person I know uses a shampoo that smells like cherry blossoms, and the body wash is lavender, which is fairly common amongst three particular girls I know.

My mind wanders again….

I look into the crater, where a girl in tattered clothing sits, crying her eyes out. Across from me, on the other side of the crater, are six girls, glowing with power, all looking down into the crater with various looks of pity and relief.Behind them is the destroyed façade of my high school, and dozens of people lying on the ground, unconscious from what just happened.

But only one face stands out from this all, and seeing that face, frightens me more than I can ever say.

After all, I have never seen myself in a killing rage before. My face is contorted in a mask of rage, all directed at Sunny. As time seems to move forward, Rarity and Fluttershy hug me, knowing what I’m feeling at the moment and how much I want to take several of the bricks from the shattered front and rain them down on the person in the crater until I crack her skull open and reduce her to bloody nothingness.

I turn away from that scene. I don’t want to remember this. I don’t want to remember how much I hated Sunny, because I don’t feel that way about her anymore. I don’t ever want to feel that way about her ever again.

I want to…

“You stupid cunt.” I turn and I’m not surprised what I see. Standing there, looking at me as if I’m damned eternally, is me, looking at me with just as much hatred at myself that I had for Sunny. “You stupid fucking cunt.”

“Stop that,” I tell the other Pinkie. This is just a fantasy, a dream, and I am not afraid of my own chastisement.

“Stop what? You should hate her!” Other Pinkie – fuck that, she doesn’t deserve my name; I’ll call her OP instead – says. “Instead, I know in the deepest part of your mind what you don’t even realize. And you’re a fucking idiot.”

“For what? For learning to forgive? For watching Sunny go through hell until I couldn’t justify treating her like I used to?” I argue with OP. It’s stupid, I know. But I’m only human, born to make mistakes.

“For getting us raped, you bitch! Or did you like being gangbanged by several guys at once? Did you like it when Flash and Atlas double teamed you? Or how about when Cicely forced you to lick her until she got her rocks off?” OP’s clothing vanishes and I see the bruises I had for weeks, the injuries I had to tell my aunt and uncle I got from practicing a little too hard.

“Aren’t you so proud of yourself?” OP tells me. “You got raped and you hid it all.You lied to the people who love you like your own. And then…” She produces a hose from nowhere and I know what happens next. They made me watch it at the Norville clinic before I….

Before I….

“PINKIE!”

I snap out of my reverie to see Jolly looking at me with horror. “Are you okay?” It’s only then that I realize that not only have we stopped, we’re both soaked. And despite the springtime sun, I shiver a little.

“You were starting to fall off my bike,” Jolly explains, “and I knew I wasn’t going to catch you in time, so I drove into the pond.” She looked at the bike, which was still soaked. “Engine’s a little waterlogged, so we’re going to be here for a few minutes.” She sighed, and I can hear her body rustle under her wet clothes. We’re a ways away from where I’m used to normally.”

I notice a tree and I walk over to it before I sit down underneath its shade. Probably not the smartest thing to do, given that I’m soaked, but whatever just happened to me I can’t…I just don’t want to….

“Pinkie, are you okay?” Jolly’s really worried for some reason.

“I….” I guess I should tell her something. “The reason I don’t live with my parents, is because I used to have a neurological disease when I was a child. I was cured of it when I was young, but as a result, I developed a really bad case of bipolar disorder. I hadn’t thought to take any medicine today, so I….” I left it at that. Granted, it was a lie, but better than telling her the truth, I suppose.

“I see,” she says. “For a minute, I thought you didn’t want to be around me.”

“Hey, you pulled me out of the river, so why wouldn’t I?” I ask her lightly. “You’re my hero – I could practically kiss you!” I tease.

“You’re joking,” she tells me.

And I know where this conversation’s going, and I don’t want it to go there. I remember Maud telling me that she was experimenting once with her then-best friend, and she found out that way she wasn’t gay. Her friend, however, was hoping it would end up with them getting a little natural. It broke their friendship up for good, sadly.

This…feels a little too much like that.

“I’m bisexual, you know,” I decide to tell her. “If you really want that kiss, I’ll give it to you…but I should let you know, I’m not attracted to you. I meant to only be just a friend and even if we did anything, long-distance relationships at our age don’t work out.”

“You’re bi?” she asks.

“Is that a problem? Because if it is, just drop me off at my bike and I won’t bother you again.”

“No, it’s….” She turns away. “Do your parents know?”

I shake my head.“ And I’d like to keep it that way, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. Look, I wasn’t really expecting you to kiss me….”

“Good,” I tell her. She’s got a cute face, but I’ve already gotten myself in trouble once, and I don’t need to do that again. Mom freaked out when she found out Maud was just “trying out for practice”, to coin a phrase. I have no idea what she’d do to me, given my life.

She stands up and I can see something in her eyes, though I can’t read it. That’s really bothersome. “Look, Jolly….”

“No, it’s not you, Pinkie. I really don’t have a problem with you being gay, and I never thought you were here with me because you were. It’s just…that girl I was telling you about that’s bullying me? She says she’s bi, too. Said she’d even sleep with my boyfriend if I did her. Kinda creepy, plus, I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

“I see.” This is the part where I recall there’s an entry in TVTropes about Depraved Bisexuals. I mean, we’re all human and we all can’t be nice like me or…eager, like Cloud Kicker (she even withdrew her offer after I’d had my issues, though I don’t know why. I wonder if she knew….) “Look, do you want me to talk to her for you?”

“No, I…I just could use some advice,” she says, just as my phone starts chiming. Yay for waterproof phones.

“I need to take this,” I tell her.

“No problem,” she says to me. “I need to check the bike anyway. Oh, and Pinkie?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…if I get a boyfriend, I hope he’s like you.”

I grin, despite everything, then look down at who’s calling me and that grin falls. Great, my mother. “Hello?” I answer.

“Pinkamena, didn’t I tell you to stay away from that Hope girl?”

Great, just great. More grief. “Mom, can we talk about it later? I’ll be home in…” I guess,“…an hour or so?”

“Sorry, but the rest of us have decided to head out for the night. You’ll have to take care of yourself. But I mean it: for your own good, stay away from that girl, Pinkamena. She’s probably a filthy sybarite, and I don’t want you corrupted.”

Too late, Mom. Way too damn late. “I’ll talk to you when I get home. Bye.” I end the call quickly.

When did my life become a soap opera?

March 26, PM: Up With People!

After Jolly’s engine sloughed off the excess flooding and we got back to where I tied up my sister’s bike, I rode back home. It was more than an hour, honestly, and I’m sure I’m going to hear it from my mother. After all, apparently the concept of estimation is only the domain of God, as far as she’s concerned.

So the moment I get onto the grounds, I see my aunt. She’s giving me that look, and oh boy, I think I’m in trouble.

“Pinkie?” she says in that exact tone, and yeah, I know I’m in trouble for something.

“Sweetie, we need to talk,” Auntie Cup tells me and I park the bike over by the bench to listen to her.

“Now, I want to make this clear: your parents don’t know about this, and your uncle and I decided not to talk to them about it.”

“About what?”

In response, she pulls something out of her pocket, and the moment I see it, I try not to freak. A dime bag of Hope’s stash. She planted it on me! How the hell did she do that?

“Pinkie, have you…?”

“No!” I tell my aunt, and it’s the truth. “That’s not mine, and I’m not covering for anyone! Honest!” She gives me that look of hers that I know she can practically read minds or something, but I’m telling the truth!

A few seconds later, she calms down. “I believe you, Pinkie,” she tells me. “Because I also found this with the bag.” She hands me a small note, and I read it.

A second later, I’m blushing. I…. I was raped and savaged by not just my boyfriend and his “friends”/clients/whatever, but by his sister, too – someone I’d fallen for just as much as I did for Atlas. And reading what Hope wrote down on that paper? For the first time since the incident I have to actually thank Atlas and Cicely, because I don’t think even they would suggest what Hope just did.

Those thoughts almost make me sick.

“Pinkie, are you okay?”

“No, Auntie, no I’m not. I…. Why would she do this?” It’s a genuine question. Why? I know Hope likes me in a physical way, but this….

I shudder, and I feel arms encircling myself as I hug myself for warmth. A second later, I feel a second pair, filled with love, holding me close.

“I’m here for you, Pinkie,” I hear Auntie Cup tell me, and once again I realize who my “real” mother is, in a sense. “I’m always here for you, sweetie.” We just sit there for a few minutes, and I feel loved, truly loved.

After a few minutes, I look at my aunt and say, “I have a couple of questions, Auntie.”

She chuckles. “I know you do. The first, yes, I know what this is, because well, remember, your uncle and I went to college in Santa Cruz, which has got to be the marijuana capital of America, I swear. And yes, I’ll be honest: I have smoked it before. My first boyfriend, a guy called Pure Imagination, well, he used to get high all the time and I joined him a couple of times. Our relationship ended because he started getting into harder stuff, and I…I wanted something different with my life. Fortunately for me, I met the nerdiest guy in my culinary class, and the rest is history.”

I giggle. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope. Even coming from here, I was worldlier than your uncle. And I think I needed that balance in my life. I’ve always been somewhat of a wild child, and your uncle brings that stability in my life.” She then took on her parental mode and said, “That being said, Pinkie, I don’t want you touching the stuff, understood? Not even experimentation. Things are different from when I was your age, and well…I have to be the parental type, you know.”

I smile. “I know,” I tell her, putting all my love into those two words. Besides, I honestly have no interest. Apparently Sunny and Rainbow have both tried it. Sunny said it just put her in a bad way (though knowing Flash I bet he took complete advantage of her, that asshole); and as for Rainbow, well she and her boyfriend tried it once, and she spent most of the next day throwing up. Between their warnings, that was enough to make the rest of us stay clear.

She looks at me again. “Okay, so what’s the second?”

“Well, you know how I got this, right?”

Her face contorts into a frown, though I know it’s not directed at me. “Well, I have my suspicions….”

I decide to tell her everything about the past couple of days and my actions with Hope, including what’s already obvious. She listens as always, and part of me wonders if I should tell her the truth about why I “broke up” with Atlas. But then I know she’s already worried about me as is, and I don’t want things to get nuclear at this point.

So, we sit for a few minutes, and afterwards, she says, “Probably for the first time in a while…I think your mother’s right, Pinkie. That Hope girl sounds like a bad influence, though I doubt it’s due to what her mother does; I talked to Prin yesterday and she seems like she and her husband are doing the best they can for their daughter.”

Something about that sounds wrong. “Auntie, Hope told me that Mrs. Amore and her husband had a vicious divorce and that he lives in New York. Also, he wanted to take her with him, but that she contested that.”

She’s got that look on her face. “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.”

“Good. I’m going to arrange a meeting tomorrow with her to find out what this is about. Granted, it isn’t any of my business, but the way Hope is latching onto you sounds very unhealthy, Pinkie. Do you plan to run into her again?”

I want to say no, but that wouldn’t be the truth. “Yes, I was planning to meet with her in an hour. Do you want me to call it off?”

“I’d rather you did, but I’ll leave it to you, sweetie. I trust you.” My aunt hugs me again and I know that’s completely true. She then gets up from her seat and looks at me. “See you tonight, dear. Take care of yourself, okay?”

She already knew what I was going to do even though I didn’t say it.

Yup, mother computational skills. I really feel sorry for the twins once they get to be my age.

As I watch my aunt walk away, I could really use some advice from a friend. That I’m worried about Hope is obvious, as I am about Jolly. But I don’t know how to handle Hope other than walking away – and walking away never accomplished anything – and there’s no way I can protect Jolly from whoever’s bothering her.

I grab my phone and dial. Please let her be there. Please.

I hear a coughing fit on the other side, and I realize I called the wrong number. “Hello?”

“Oh, hi, Twily!” I say, trying not to let the awkwardness in my voice show. And oh, is there a lot of it right now.

“Sorry, Pinkie,” she says after coughing up a lung. “I’m really not feeling too good right now.”

“Yeah, I heard – chicken pox,” I tell her. “Sorry to hear that. You okay?”

“Much better, now that you’ve called. I swear, the only ones I’ve heard from is Sunny and Tavi – the rest seem to treat me like I don’t exist.”

“I don’t think that was intentional, Twily. We all hope you’re better. It’s just…you know, Spring Break.”

“Not for me – I get to play bedridden pariah.”

“Sorry. I wish I could do something to help.” I really wish I could. Aside from Twily being Sunny’s sister, she is one of my best friends, and hearing her cooped up in bed really sucks.

“Well, if you can get your hands on it, I could use some extra-strength calamine lotion for the back of my neck. It’s really bothering me – feels almost like something’s burrowing in the back of my head or something.” She paused, and then I heard her gasp.

“Twily, are you okay?”

“I just read on Wikipedia, one of the complications of chickenpox is inflammation of the brain! I could be in real trouble here!”

“You’ll be fine, Twily. I had it when I was eight, and aside from being the worst week of my life—” After all, the worst weekend of my life tops that…. “—I got over it. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

“Well, if you say so.”

“Trust me, what’s the worst that could happen? You lose your mind, slowly losing sleep and sense of reality then try to commit suicide by traffic while everyone you love doesn’t take it seriously?”

Twilight laughed. “Yeah, I saw that movie last night. Seriously, the 70s were weird for cinema. So, what did you call for?”

“Just to see how you’re doing, Twily,” I lie. “Didn’t want you to think that everyone had forgotten about you.”

“That’s so sweet! Thanks, Pinkie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I can think of a few things,” I sigh. Like, maybe getting a trustworthy friend for example.

“Pinkie? Is everything okay?”

“I….” I sigh. Twily’s a friend, and I need one right now. “No, it’s not. The truth is, I meant to call Sunny, and misdialed you, no offense. I’m really sorry.”

“No, that’s okay. Like I said, it’s been a boring week for me, so you really made my day, Pinkie, seriously. But why’d you want to call Sunny?”

I tell her, because I need a friend right now, and I can’t keep running to her sister every time, not that I do anyway. Maybe I should’ve called Rarity, but I didn’t, and I have to let this out, because I really need advice from a peer, because parental advice probably runs the gamut around here.

“Wow, sounds like you’re having a rougher time than I am,” Twily tells me before she punctuates it all with a coughing fit. “Sorry. I really must’ve caught Ultimate Pneumonia Plus Alpha or something.” I can hear her take a drink of something before she continues. “Anyway, this Hope girl sounds like bad business, Pinkie. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I owe it to her to explain why I don’t want to deal with her anymore, and I kinda prefer doing things in person. Besides, maybe talking to her will make her change her mind.”

“Or maybe she’ll care even less, given that you’re headed home in a few days, Pinkie. I know you don’t want to hear that, but Devil’s Advocate and all. The fact is that when you’re here, you’re not there, and out of sight, out of mind. She could very well change her stripes now, and change them back five minutes after that.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I once knew a girl who was the worst…and she’s not that anymore. And that means a lot to me.” More than I can say, probably. “And if she can change, so can anyone. I have to have that faith, because if I don’t….” I don’t know what else to say anymore.

So, it’s not surprising when Twily comments, “I know. I get it. And I believe in her, too – I always will.” And I can hear the love in that. Sunny’s a lucky girl to have someone as caring as Twily in her corner.

And so am I.

We talk for a few more minutes, about idle things and if there’s anything she wants me to bring for her from this area. She’s not sure, so I offer to bring her one of the farm’s paperweights. They’re made from the leftover detritus that’s unusable for the main product, and Dad likes to give them out as souvenirs for clientele. It’s good to talk to her, and I think I may have made her day.

Finally, she yawns and says, “Pinkie, I hate to break this call – I really do – but I need to get some sleep. I’m feeling exhausted right now.”

“Okay, you hang in there, Twily,” I tell her, “and you’d better be well by the time I get back, or otherwise – mango pineapple smoothies from the café, got that?”

I can hear her giggle. “I’ll take one anyway, Pinkie. Later!”

“Later!” I tell her as I hang up the phone. Okay, that’s done. And I think I did more to convince myself than to hear whatever advice Twily gave me. Come to think of it, all she really did was play sounding board. Maybe I needed that.

I sigh. “Well, I’d better go get ready for tonight. It’s going to be one for the books, no matter what.

“So, where are we going?” I tell her. We’re in her mother’s car again – she says she has permission this time, but I’m not sure I believe that – and we’re heading out of town.

“Don’t worry, we’re gonna have fun tonight, okay?” she tells me and I don’t know what I should feel about that. There’s danger, and there’s danger.

“So you’re not going to tell me?” I ask, knowing it’s probably going to fall on deaf ears at best.

“What’s there to tell? Don’t be such a stinky pussy, Pinkie,” she tells me. “You’ll have the time of your life, I promise.”

“Well, that’s rude.” Seriously, it is. I would never refer to anyone I know as that, especially someone who is supposedly a friend! Seriously, that’s just low fucking class. Maybe that’s another warning.

Well, in for a penny, in for a dollar, I guess. “Don’t be such a bitch, okay? I’m just curious.”

She gave me a grin – actually gave me a grin! And I thought Rainbow could be nuts at times! “Now that’s more like it! For a moment, I thought you went all wishy-washy on me.”

We then sped on for a few more minutes until it was really dark – really dark. And while the farm can get dark at night, it doesn’t get this dark. And in the distance, I see a house with lights on – all sorts of lights on. Seriously, the top windows are strobing like a dance club, and I can already start to feel the thump of whatever bass is playing.

A chill goes down my spine, and I feel a pit sinking in my stomach. So much about this is so familiar. So terrifyingly familiar. Still, as we come to a stop, I get out of the car, but you can be sure that I’m going to be on my guard.

“We’re here,” she tells me.

“Where’s here?”

“Don’t worry about it. Here to see some friends of mine. Trust me, you’ll love them.” I probably won’t, and I’m probably making a big mistake right now, one that I hope I can get out of.

As we go in the house, I see a ton of beer, and I smell more weed. There’s a few people on the couch, watching TV, and I can see two girls making out, ignoring all of the other stuff. In the back porch, there’s actually a couple of guys making out, so I guess it evens out. Still, the amount of it all seems very familiar, and right now I really wish I’d brought my purse. There’s a small can of pepper spray that Rarity bought me after the whole incident, and while I may not need it, it probably would be my lucky charm right now.

“Hey, there’s a guy I gotta go talk to. I’ll be right back.” I then see her walk over to someone wearing a high school football jersey. He’s got gray-and-sky-blue hair and pink eyes, and he’s built like a linebacker, obviously. He seems nice, certainly more than the asshole that’s filming those two girls…or the girls, for that matter. Hope and the guy talk for a few, and then she decides to come back. “Hey, I gotta go upstairs – there’s some asshole that owes me money, and this is my best chance to get it back.” She then waves the guy over. “Cloudcover here will take care of you.” She then looks at him and says, “Cov, Pinkie’s my best babe, so you’d better treat her right.”

He reaches over and grabs a couple of bottles of water. Smart guy. “Don’t worry, Hope, I got her.” Hope then heads off, and as she does, Cov gives me a drink. “Here. Throat can get pretty dry in a party like this.”

I take it, telling him thanks as I quickly look at the bottle. It’s sealed, so that’s good, but I still get the feeling something is going to go bad.

“Hey,” Cov tells me, “want to take a walk?”

“Sure,” I tell him. Maybe then I’ll get the chance to run away from here.

We walk a ways towards the cornfield and I hear comments about “Cov’s taking another girl to the cornfield!” and “Cov’s gonna shuck her with his big ear, for sure!”

We reach the cornfield, just out of sight of everyone else, and I decide to turn to him – only fair. “If you think you’re going to do to me what those guys say you plan to, I’d strongly suggest backing away now or I’ll break you in two.”

What I was expecting was him to get all in my face and intimidate me with his muscles.

What I didn’t expect was for him to pull out his wallet and car keys. “Look,” he tells me, “I’m actually going to try to get you out of here. Over there is my car. And if you don’t trust me, take my wallet and car keys. I’ll tell them you hit me over the head with a rock and stole my stuff.”

“And if I go with you?”

“I’ll drop you off at your house. I’ll tell the guys that you and I had some fun times, and you might have to back up my story. But I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, is it? You don’t look like a local girl.”

“I’m not.”

He walks over to me and puts his wallet in my hands. “You hold on to that until we get out of here. I feel like going for a snack. You up to it?”

An hour later I’m at a diner outside of town only a few miles away from my parents’ place, and I’m trying to keep my emotions in check, and not because I haven’t taken one of my pills lately. I…I honestly don’t know what to think, so I take another drink of my chocolate peanut butter shake and try to process this absolute mess I’ve gotten myself into.

On one hand? Cov? Well, part of me now kinda regrets not growing up here, because he is definitely boyfriend material. Handsome, funny, and above all…brave. I’m not the first girl he’s “covered” for. In fact, the waitress serving our food, a teenage girl named Lemon Meringue, outright told us we don’t have to pay for our food, because Cov saved her last month.

The other part of the equation is what Cov told me he suspects: that there’s something like the Club operating at that house, and that the ringleader…might be Hope. I actually had to head off to the bathroom to throw up and fight off crying. I almost walked into that hell, and even though I would’ve protected myself…Oh God….

I decide to tell him about my experiences with the Club. Not that experience; only the girls know and I’m never going to tell anyone else. No, I tell him about the fact that I’m from Canterlot and that I know many of the girls who were impacted. He in turn tells me that there’s nothing like the Vibe here, only “old fashioned roofies” and that the water bottles we had were probably the only two things in the house that weren’t spiked. He tells me that even though his dad is a deputy with the Sheriff’s Department, they’re not really looking much into the roofie rumors, because they have so many other things going on.

“So these guys get away with it?” I ask him, trying to restrain my temper, but not entirely succeeding. I think he gets it.

“Pinkie, this isn’t like Canterlot,” he tells me. “There, I’m sure you probably have a ton and a half of cops who can focus on things like this. Out here, if it doesn’t happen in Bentonville, it’s up to the Sheriff’s Office, and…well, you probably have more cops in one precinct in Canterlot than there is on the force here in the County.”

“So it’s up to guys like you? Cov, don’t get me wrong, I’m appreciative and all that, but…you’re not a superhero. They don’t exist.” Yeah, so says the girl who was using magic six months ago. Hypocrite, thy name is Pinkamena Diane Pie.

“I don’t think of myself as that.” He gives me a sad look and said, “There was this girl I know, by the name of Violet Star. She was a sweet girl, didn’t do anything to anyone and…one day, they found her in a field, where she’d choked on alcohol. She didn’t live.” He turned away. “This happened the night before she and I were supposed to go out on a date. It wasn’t until a couple of months afterwards that I overheard a couple of guys bragging about what really happened.”

“So you’re saying this is about revenge?” I ask him.

“I…I don’t know. I mean, Violet wasn’t my girlfriend and I don’t know how our relationship would’ve turned out or even if we would’ve had one. All I know is that Radiant Hope’s name was brought up as ‘the girl who got right in there’ and that a lot of girls in our town are afraid of her. What does that tell you?” He took a long sip of his root beer float and then added, “I had to do something, Pinkie.”

To our surprise, Lemon Meringue sat down. “I’m on my break,” she explains. “Listen, I don’t know who you are or what’s up, but you’d better listen to this guy, okay? That bitch Radiant Hope is bad news, and unless you want to end up with her up in your snatch, you’d better listen to Cov here.”

I know I should feel offended, but thankfully Cov is for me. Have I mentioned he’s definitely boyfriend material? “Merry, lay off her, okay?” he tells her.

“Cov, I know you like to play the hero, but this little girl from LA—”

“Canterlot, not Los Angeles,” I correct her.

“What the fuck ever! Anyway, you shouldn’t bother if she’s too stupid to listen to us cornpone back country hicks.”

Okay, she just pressed the button labeled DO NOT PISS OFF PINKIE. “Listen, Merry – it is Merry, right? Shut the fuck up right now or I will stuff your head into one of these ice cream shake glasses. I’m not some girl that thinks everyone here is straight out of The Dukes of Hazzard or something. Plus, I was born here – I live with my aunt and uncle in Canterlot, but I’m not one of those people who’s here slumming it just to stare at the rubes, okay? I get what Cov is doing – I’ve been there, too. One of my co-workers at my uncle and aunt’s café is a friend of mine and she was screwed over by her boyfriend, who was a member of the Club, so I’ve been helping her get through it.”

Merry and Cov are looking at me and I think I have their attention.

“So, let’s get to the case at hand: if I’m right, I….” I stop speaking and just shake.

“You okay?” Merry asks me.

“No, it’s not – this girl who lives next to my mother and father just tried something with me…” Something that’s happened to me before, no less! “…and when I’m gone, my kid sisters could be in trouble!”

“Give me their names,” Cov tells me, “and I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

Sorry, ain’t nobody got time for that, certainly not this Pinkie! “No, I’ll do it myself. I won’t see Inkie and Blinkie hurt because of her.”

In hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming, but even for all my worldliness, I’m still too naïve for my own good. AJ would’ve spotted it a mile away. Rainbow would’ve already threatened her and Sunny would’ve turned her scheme right back on her. As for Tavi, Flutters, Rares and Twilly? They would’ve known something was up and would have rightly stayed away. But not me, because as smart as I am, I’m incredibly stupid.

“Pinkamena! Do you know what time it is?” My mother’s standing right at the door and meanwhile, Cov’s just driven off. Surprisingly, he actually works for my father, a part-time job during the summer, which is how he knew how to get here.

A phrase Blossom taught me is coming to mind, part of the Russian that she learned as a kid from her grandparents. What’s the phrase? Oh yeah - Сука Блять.

“Pinkamena, I’m waiting for an answer, young lady,” she growls.

“Mom, it’s only midnight, okay?” I tell her. I’m actually tempted to say the phrase in real life, when I see my aunt approach.

“Pinkie, can I talk to you for a minute?”

As expected, Mom turns on Auntie Cup. “She is my daughter and my responsibility!”

I watch as Auntie Cup fold her arms and glare at her sister. “Stop being a bitch, Quartzie. I swear….”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Dazzle. I will not let you turn Pinkamena into a godless heathen like you!”

I sigh inwardly. So much for whatever progress we made this past Christmas. I make my choice. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Come with me, please.” As we head upstairs, I can feel my mother’s stare burn a hole in the back of my head. I know how she’s going to react later. She’s afraid that Auntie Cup is really my mother, not her. She’s not wrong. Maybe there’s another universe – even the one Sunny comes from, the one she doesn’t mention where I have a counterpart – I’m closer to my parents than my aunt and uncle. But that’s not this reality and I’m not that Pinkie.

We get up the steps and Auntie Cup looks at me with worry. “Pinkie honey, you know even we don’t let you stay out that late unless we know where you are. And we didn’t. So, mind telling me?”

“I….” How to say this without setting off my family’s alarm mode? “I went to a party with Hope, and I didn’t like it there. Cov didn’t either and so we left. We spent the past couple of hours just talking at the diner down the road and that’s all there was, Auntie, really.”

“You sure?”

I nod. “With all the stuff that we just went through with the Club out back home? I don’t want to end up like those girls—” Because I’m already a lying whore, I chastise myself, “—and I wouldn’t want you to worry about me like that.”

“Okay, I believe you.” She pulls me in for a hug and I lean into her. Kinda funny. Auntie Cup’s not exactly what you would call fat – she’s got a build that would be called “beefy” if she were a guy, and she’s not rail-thin like my mother – but hugging her always seems right. Again, maybe because in my subconscious she’s the maternal one and Mom is the stranger.

I swear, my life is either seriously fucked up or I’m going to be a case reference in some psychology textbook someday, just watch.

Auntie Cup lets go of me and says, “Tomorrow, Mrs. Amore and her husband will be here and we’re going to talk to them about everything. I want you to be there as well, Pinkie. Also, promise me that you won’t be hanging around Hope until we leave, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I think about the plans I’ve made with Merry and Cov and the discussion we had while we were driving her home.

“I won’t, I promise.”

I really hate lying to my aunt.

March 27, AM: Club Bizarre

I get up, already dreading the day, but the day’s going to go by whether or not it’s Officially Pinkie-Endorsed™. Regardless, I have to get up and face the day. Carpe diem, early worm, YOLO and all that. Besides, better to clean a nasty wound than to let it fester.

I’m now regretting all the times I looked at Dr. Posey’s medical books whenever I went to go visit Flutters. You want real horror? Just take a look at some medical textbooks sometime and after that I guarantee the goriest horror flick will look like a Three Stooges reel in comparison.

Thankfully a quick shower lets me focus on something else. The steam shrouds me like a lover’s embrace and I shudder in pleasure. A billion tiny kisses cover me and I feel my nethers heat up, both to my joy and shame. Of all the times I want something, it has to be now, in the guest shower of my parents’ house. Of all the times I wish Sunny was here, between my thi—

Realization hit me like a blow at that moment, like a literal punch to la cabeza. Right now, more than anything, I wanted sex with Sunny. Hot, steamy sex of the sort I always thought I’d have with Atlas, back when I thought he was a decent member of humanity. And then “hello there” was twisted into “hell here”.

I sink to the tiles, letting the pain, anguish, sorrow, and wanton desire out. Of all the people I want right now and it’s my former archenemy, the girl indirectly responsible for what I’ve become. Why couldn’t it be someone else? Rarity has always struck me as prim in life and a handful in the sheets. And I know Fluttershy aches for that boyfriend of hers. Maybe even Twily or Tavi? Why is it the one girl I want right now is the one that made my life hell, the one I wanted dead?

“I started to cry, which started the whole world laughing,” I sang in a mumbled voice, not sure why. “Oh if I’d only seen that the joke was on me….”

My body aches right now. I can almost feel her skin against mine, her lips against mine, her lips against mine, and I want it so badly it feels like pleasure and pain.

“I finally died, which started the whole world living….”

Time to die, Pinkie.

Time to die.

I hear a knock on the door and my uncle said, “Pinkie? You okay in there?”

I look at myself and I look like a prune. And the water’s cold now. How long have I been in here?

“Yeah, I’m okay! Just felt like taking a long shower!” I shout back and get up.

Guess drowning’s not in the works.

My life sucks.

Breakfast is dour, more so than normal. Maybe we all realize what’s going to happen, though they comprehend it less than I do. They only know what Auntie Cup told them. I’ve seen the worst of it.

“Pinkamena, dear, are you okay? You’re very quiet this morning.” Well, no shit, Mom – I was hoping a girl I’ve had a hate-love relationship with would come fuck my brains out in the shower and when I realized that I hoped I would drown.

Goddamn my mother can be so fucking stupid sometimes.

Thankfully my real mother knows me better. Auntie Cup just looks at me and asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head and gnaw on my cinnamon roll a little more before I answer. “I’ll be okay, Auntie, but thanks for asking.” She then looks at my uncle and I boy did I just fuck up.

Uncle Carrot comes over to me and just gives me a hug. This is right about the time I cry in his arms and he tells me how much he loves me, then I break down and tell him everything and he just gives me a hug and kiss and then gets me some ice cream and eventually I feel better. But I can’t, not this time. If I were to do so, I know I’d say everything, and everything is the very wrong thing to say right now. Maybe someday, when I know I can. But not now.

So instead I just sigh and tell yet another lie, damn me: “I…I just don’t know how this is going to go. Will Mrs. Amore think I’m lying? I mean, no parent wants to hear what we’re going to tell her.”

Dad, as always, is wise: “It’s a parent’s duty to hear about what happens to their children, the good and the bad.” He then looks at me and says, “And I think I speak for everyone when I say that we are always willing to listen to you, Pinkamena.”

Dad, I love you…even if that’s probably the most naïve thing I’ve ever heard you say.

I finish off the – eighth? Ninth? I stopped counting – cinnamon roll and go over to pour myself another cup of coffee. I manage to get the first sip in, wondering how as bad as my mother is at, well, everything, that she can make good coffee, when the doorbell rings. It’s eight in the morning, and Dad has already put in an appearance at the quarry so he could be here for this. That’s both a comfort and a worry: there are too many variables here that I can’t control or deflect.

The fact that I’m even thinking about this should bother me. The fact that it doesn’t does.

As my parents go out to meet our guests, my aunt and uncle both look at me before Auntie Cup gives me another hug. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to – the hug is more than enough. “We can talk about it later, if you want.”

Once again, I feel loved. “Thanks,” I tell her, because that’s all that ever needs to be said. Following them, I go out to face the music.

Sitting on the couch right next to Mrs. Amore is a man whose facial features are somewhat reminiscent of Hope. She has her father’s light blue eyes and high cheekbones, but that’s where it ends. He has slicked back green-and-gold hair, and based on how he dresses, I presume he works in finance.

“Everyone,” Mrs. Amore begins, “this is my husband, Hard Sale.”

Mr. Sale smiles. “Apologies for not meeting you all sooner, but I work as a buyer for Wal-Mart, so I’m on the road a lot.” He then frowned and added, “and from what my wife tells me, I think I need to be home more often.”

My aunt then goes into a long explanation of what she found, as well as the note that was with it. At first, they don’t believe any of it, which is natural – who wants to believe their kid is a monster? But then Auntie Cup hands over the note and the two of them look at it, and after quickly glancing at it, I can see the looks of worry in their eyes.

“Ms. Pie,” Mrs. Amore asks me, “I know you only just met her this week, but do you know what any of this is about?”

I nod. “She says that you and your husband are divorced, and that he lives in New York. That you hate her and that she wanted to live with her father, but that you threatened legal action if he took custody.”

The moment I see Mr. Sale blink, it confirms what I suspected: it was a lie. “Well, we still have our apartment in downtown Manhattan, but that’s so our son can use it while he attends college at Columbia. And I can assure you we’ve never been divorced.” He put his arm around his wife and smiled the kind of smile I know all too well, that of a perfectly content person. “In fact, we just celebrated our 25th anniversary this past September.”

The look in Mrs. Amore’s eyes is one of heartbreak, and I feel a little guilty for telling her the truth about her daughter, but she had to know. “But I…why would she think I hate her! We moved here for her sake!”

“She said you walked in on her and her girlfriend Tiramisu while they were having sex, and that you’re homophobic.” And I know right about now, my mother is just about to say something, but to my surprise, she’s staying silent. I wonder why.

“But I….” She shakes her head and that’s the second confirmation that Hope’s lying through her teeth. “My brother, Jewelseeker…he’s gay. I couldn’t hate my brother, and my works have always had diverse couples in them! I….” The frustration and shock finally kicks in and she breaks down crying and I know everyone in my family, myself included, felt like we took Size 10 Steel Toes to the neighbor’s beagle.

Dad looks at them and as always, he’s a fount of wisdom. “Look, Prin, I know you’re a wonderful mother. I’ve seen you care about your daughter and you’re one of the friendliest people I know. And I look at your husband, and I know none of this is your fault, none at all. And if there’s anything Quartzie and I can do, all you have to do is ask.”

Mrs. Amore looks at my father and she nods her tear-stained face. She then looks at her husband says, “We need to tell them.”

“We shouldn’t! We’re trying to—”

“They have two other daughters younger than this young lady here,” she says, pointing at me, “and if…no. We can’t let it happen again.”

Mr. Sale sighs and I see the look on my uncle’s face. It’s as if he knows something bad is about to come down, and while that’s probably the understatement of the century, I have cried on my uncle’s chest and shoulder for enough years that I know those instinctive body movements. He’s angry, infuriated for Mrs. Amore and her husband. I don’t even have to look at my aunt to know how she feels. My dad has already said his piece, and my mother is a cypher as always, although she’s strangely quiet.

Now that I think about it, by now my mother would be on a jeremiad on why homosexuals are bad and why Hope should be condemned to the Ninth Circle of Hell or downtown Washington DC, whichever is worse. And frankly, right now I’m sorely tempted to agree, albeit for different reasons.

“Last year, there was a girl by the name of Sundowner. She considered Hope a dear friend and for a long time, they were the closest of companions, sisters in all but blood.” I can see Mrs. Amore fighting not to describe the past as a story, trying to intentionally defictionalize it. I wonder if that’s hard for a person of her career. “And then…And….” She breaks down sobbing once more, and Auntie Cup, as always, goes over to embrace the woman and Mrs. Amore immediately accepts the hug.

The room is silent for a while, before Mr. Sale speaks: “It was then that the two met a boy named Amber March. Hope was completely smitten with him, her first love. She talked about him all the time, and even as a father I knew something was going on…but I didn’t know what it was. And then that’s when the police showed up at our door.” I hear my mother gasp and it’s the first sound I’ve heard from her since this all began.

“We found out what had happened when Sundowner’s mother came to see us. She was furious and rightly so. She pressed charges, and soon after, so did Amber’s father. We were enveloped in a nightmare for the longest time, with no hope – it was a miracle that the District Attorney’s office decided not to push to have her tried as an adult! The whole ordeal nearly destroyed our family, and it did cost me my job when I found out that my boss’ boss was related to Amber’s mother.

“Thankfully the court psychologist worked out something the DA and the judge agreed to. Of course we agreed to it, because the other option was jail time for our child! But even still….” I hear him sniffle and see him wipe away tears, and I feel some on my own. “Now she’s starting to slip again, and…we can’t go through this again. We can’t!”

“What happened?” my father asks, almost regretting it.

“Hope caught them kissing – it turned out that Amber had chosen Sundowner, not knowing how Hope felt about him. And my daughter destroyed their lives and hers. She….” He chokes and I know he can’t say anymore and I don’t blame him.

“She beat Amber to within an inch of his life. So much so he has some brain damage,” Mrs. Amore sobbed. “And as for Sundowner – my daughter’s best friend – she sodomized her with a tree branch, then….” The pause tells me all I need to know and it’s all I can do to shut down.

“I…I need to get out of here,” I say and before anyone else can respond, I run like hell out of the house.

I don’t know how long I sat by the pond, watching Dad’s employees ply their trade, but I know I’m a mess. Everything brought back to my mind in full digital Sony color or whatever bullshit that is. I remember Cicely telling me I’ll have a fun time. And then I remember Cicely telling me that all I’m good for is licking her gash until she orgasms, because I was a worthless human being. And then I remember when she….

When they….

Two people I loved and would have once freely given myself to them instead took everything from me. I remember overhearing Sunny and Twily’s sister-in-law say that it’s a short trip from love to hate. I made that trip so fast, if I ever see them again….

“Pinkamena?” I turn, and to my surprise, it’s my mother. “They went home an hour ago.” Also to my surprise, she’s concerned about me. Will wonders never cease?

I say nothing and look at the pond and the huge guy with the muscles taking off his shirt so he can let the sweat burn away in the sun. Normally right now, that would be a nice distraction. But given what I’m remembering and I heard, and how I feel? May as well be a ten-ton sack of shit.

“Pinkamena, please.” Out of the corner of my eyes I see her sit next to me and then I feel her arms around me. It doesn’t feel natural, not at all. But I’ll take what I can get.

“I’m okay,” I lie. “I’m just thinking of all the girls I know back home and the hell they went through after the Vibe, and….” I hear a sob and I’m not too surprised the sound was me. “Why do good people have to suffer? Why do the bad guys win?”

“They don’t, dear, not in the afterlife. God attends to that.”

“Mom, God may attend to it, but they sure as hell get away with it here!” Easy, Pinkie, I remind myself. I don’t need to say anything that will haunt me.

Haunt me more than normal, that is.

“I know. Sometimes it’s hard, Lord knows I know that. But you have to believe there’s going to be a better tomorrow, dear. There’s an old saying: ‘God doesn’t take you to heaven without dragging you through hell first.’ We all shoulder our burdens, because someday we’ll be able to shuck off those burdens and have a better tomorrow.”

Wow, my mom’s actually being caring? And here I thought Inkie and Blinkie were just joking.

“Now I know this was rough for you given what your friends suffered, but remember, you didn’t, and that’s because God protected you.” And right at that point it’s taking everything in me from just lashing out. I can feel myself shaking and my mother trying to be maternal, but…no. Not her. Auntie Cup, yes, in a heartbeat. And I know my mother is bothered by that, but I can’t change what my subconscious thinks.

“I can see you have a lot to think about, Pinkamena, so I’ll let you be for a while.” She lets go of me and gets up. “Just remember that, although you and I are very different, I am your mother and I love you and am proud of you.” I then hear her footfalls against the grass as she leaves. Part of me wonders that if I turn around and watch her walk back to the house, will I see Auntie Cup watching this? I’m not sure I want to know the answer. Maybe it’s better if I believe that my mother did this on her own, without my aunt’s prodding.

I sit there for a few more minutes before I hear a voice calling out for me. I turn and see Merry running towards me, out of breath. “Good! I found you just in time! C’mon, we gotta go! There’s no time to lose!”

“Merry? What are you doing here?”

“Cov’s waiting in the car! Pinkie, we don’t have a lot of time! We need your help!”

“Why?”

In response, she hands me a letter and as I read it, my blood runs cold.

I look at her and I don’t know what to say. “You want me to give myself up? To her?”

“No! Of course not! But Jolly—”

The moment I hear Jolly’s name, my blood runs cold again – I’m starting to feel like someone installed an air conditioning system in my veins while I wasn’t looking. “What about Jolly?”

“She’s Cov’s kid sister. She’s been complaining about a girl stalking her all this time—”

“I know, I met Jolly the other day and she told me everything. But I didn’t know it was Hope!”

Merry starts dragging me towards the car and after a few seconds, I follow. We’re halfway past the steps to the house when my aunt comes out. And the moment my eyes connect with hers, I know she knows.

“I need to do this, Auntie,” I tell her.

“Pinkie, please don’t. We got a call from Mr. Sale a few minutes ago, and…he called the authorities. I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

Too late! my mind shouts at me. “I need to do this,” I tell her again. “I have to try.”

She looks at me again and I look at her. A lifetime’s worth of mother-daughter talks pass unspoken between us even though we’re aunt and niece. Finally, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out my phone, tossing it to me. “Please, just be careful.”

“I’m with friends,” I tell her, then we head off.

I hop into the passenger seat and the look on Cov’s face is one of anger. “They’ve got my kid sister, Pinkie. I promised I’d protect her, and they have my sister. And they want me to turn you over to them in order to get her back – and even that’s a maybe. I’ve called my dad and the sheriff’s department is on the move, but we don’t have much time.”

“What’s this place?” I ask him. “And were you seriously going to turn me over?”

“No! Of course not! But…I don’t know what to do, Pinkie!” I can see the worry on his face and I have to wonder if I’ll ever see the end of that word today.

“Look, I can deal with this,” I tell him. “Go ahead and turn me over. And tell me again – what’s this Club Bizarre place?”

“It’s an old abandoned junkyard in the Ozark National Forest, about ninety minutes away,” he tells me. “Whole bunch of cars illegally dumped. The authorities have it sealed off, but kids will be kids and it’s a regional place where you can get…well, it’s probably the closest thing for a teenager to a black market that exists in Arkansas.”

“And how does she know about it?”

“If I had the answer to that, I’d tell you in a heartbeat, Pinkie,” he says and I believe him.

But it’s the answer that Merry gives that is just as illuminating: “Keep in mind that this info is from a friend of a friend, Pinkie, so I don’t know how true it is. But apparently, Hope’s been telling her potential victims that if they’re nice to her, she’ll take them to paradise, but if they aren’t, she’ll take them to the Club.”

That name brings back far too many familiar and unpleasant feelings. “So there’s an abandoned junkyard where a bunch of juvenile delinquents hang out but that the cops rarely check despite the fact that all kinds of illegal shit goes down there? And Hope is the queen bee?” I’m starting to think that I’m dealing with a backwater, more illegal version of a kind of girl I know all too well.

Which means I have to fight fire with fire. I pull my phone out of my pocket, ready to dial Sunny…and then I stop. She could be invaluable in terms of information and psychology right now, and yet I can’t call her. I know she knows this stuff like the back of her hand and yet my fingers hover just over the capacitive range of the phone’s touchscreen.

And then I realize why. Sunny’s not that kind of person anymore. She gave it all up when she reached out to us. She didn’t have to, she could’ve just faked everything, but she reached out to us, because she needed us.

In fact, when she told us what she did, scaring the hell out of Noteworthy and putting her fist through a wall to protect Twily…none of us would’ve blamed her for that. We would’ve done it as well (though maybe not the “putting fist through wall” part.) And yet she felt regretful about that, and it’s because she changed.

She’s so sweet now, so wonderful. It’s no wonder I love her.

And then I realize the truth, why I wanted her so badly this morning. It wasn’t just my body wanting something in it. It was calling out for the one it wanted. “The heart knows what it wants,” goes the poem by Verse Alive, “or else it does not care.”

I’m in love with Sunset.

I’m in love with Sunset!

My body suddenly feels warm and light and despite what’s going on, I want to cry tears of joy and laugh. My once greatest enemy, now the one I want so much! Ms. Cadenza said that it’s a short trip from love to hate, but that must mean that it’s the opposite, too!

I bring up the gallery on my phone and look at a picture of us, lying on the couch the weekend we all had a sleepover at Twily’s place. Sunny’s asleep and her head’s on my lap. At the time, I didn’t think much of it because I was tired and I even forget what movie we were watching. But as I look at the picture now, I see details that I hadn’t seen before: I’m caressing her hair, and looking down at her with love. A love I didn’t even know was there.

I look at the picture in my locket, and the same look is in my eyes. How did I not see this? Did Rarity know? She’s usually the most in-tune with this kind of stuff and yet she never said anything.

How long have I been in love with Sunset and haven’t realized until this moment? Why did it take my body to cry out for her touch to put me on this rollercoaster?

But I know what it is now. I know how I feel now.

I laugh, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like Pinkie again. Not Pinkamena in a Pinkie shell, but me – actually me.

“Something funny?” Cov asks me and I smile.

“I started a joke that set the whole world crying,” I tell him, reciting the old song. “But I didn’t see that the joke was on me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Only that I know what I have to do now,” I tell him. And I do. I’ve been dealing with this situation too long like a Pinkamena. But that’s not who I am. I’m a Pinkie and a Pinkie should think like a Pinkie!

I laugh again and I feel something click within me. I don’t know what it is, but at the same time I do. And everything seems okay.

From the back seat, I can hear Merry ask, “Did Pinkie snap or something?”

“No, not at all!” I chirp. “I know what I have to do! I’ll solve this problem with Pinkie Power or else my name ain’t Pinkie – and it is Pinkie! I’ll just giggle at the ghosties and it’ll make it all better!”

“Yeah, she snapped,” I can hear Cov say, but I don’t care. I’m too happy right now. I realize what I feel now, know it for what it is, and I don’t feel ashamed anymore.

I wanted Sunny, because I love her, not because I’m a whore or useless. I love her because she’s my friend, and maybe if I’m lucky, something more someday. Yeah, as far as I know she’s straight, but then again, I once thought I was straight too.

I feel that pulse within me and it feels light and familiar. Like a dozen cupcakes in my mouth, topped off with a freshly-jerked Cherry Coke. Mmmm, maraschino cherries.

I’m Pinkie again and Hope has never met me, not really.

She doesn’t know what she’s in for.

March 27, PM: L'Aventure Fantastique

I’m having that moment again, except that this time, I know it’s not just a moment. No, it’s something else. And unlike last time, I’m pretty sure I can trust this.

That girl from before, the one in the armor? She’s here and she’s looking at me, an uncanny smile on her face. That’s a good sign – I like uncanny smiles!

She says to me, “I can see you’re preparing for a noble struggle, one fraught with peril and danger.” Aside from the fact that she seems to have gotten an English upgrade from Glorianan to the Gilded Age, she seems less standoffish and more approachable. Well, as approachable as any strange girl dressed in armor and bearing a sword is going to be in a daydream.

“Are you ready to assume your mantle, to step forward into the light under your Lady’s banner? To be her blade and ægis? To see through the grand parade of justice?” She smiles and gestures to that sword from earlier. “It is yours, my friend. It has always been yours.”

“I’m not ready yet,” I tell her. “Someday I will be, and someday I hope to meet you in person. I hope we can be friends.”

“We are already more than that; you just don’t know it yet,” she tells me.

“Sorry, you’re cute,” I tell her, “but I already have my sights set on someone.” I can see a slight frown and I wonder if I just turned down someone who was interested. Well, no matter, now that I know what I want, I have my eyes on the prize. And now that I think about it, said prize has one hell of a cute ass.

But she laughs and says, “I see you’ve chosen the harder road. The Shield did and he finds that to be perfect. Meanwhile, both the Star and the Nova chose theirs and failed, the latter worse than the former. I sincerely hope the best for you; I would not want to hunt one of our own again.”

Um…yeah. “I just realized that I feel that way about her.”

The girl pats me on the shoulder. “Though that was considered sinful in my time, My Lady has disabused me of such notions. I wish the best for you, my friend and compatriot, that I do.” She then looks at me with an appraising glance. “But you have a battle now to a-come. What fares your plans for that?”

“Well,” I tell her, ticking off my fingers, “my uncle always says there’s the right way, the wrong way, and the Army way.” Which, now that I think about it, is weird, because as far as I know, he’s never been in the military. “But I’m me, so…I’m going to do things the Pinkie way!”

“Which is?”

I give her a smile. “No idea! But whatever it is, it’s going to be effective and fun!”

“But will you be safe? And will justice be done?”

“That’s not for me to say; I have no idea what Hope has done since she arrived, and my main concern is saving Jolly. And while I can stop Hope and her gang, it’s up to the local authorities to decide.”

“Good. Justice without mercy isn’t justice at all. And saving a life is more paramount a virtue than capturing a villain. A villain escaped can be eventually made to see their fate, but a life lost cannot ever be regained.”

“Well, thanks. But now I gotta go and do my thing. Will I see you again?”

“On a future day to come, we may become as close as sisters.” She bowed to me. “Fare thee well, Pinkamena.”

I’m getting ready to leave (and how does one do that in a dream, anyway? Just blink your eyes? Click your heels?) when I realize I’ve been extremely rude. “Wait!” I call out just as she’s about to depart, herself.

“Yes?” she asks me.

“I, uh, never got your name, and it would be rude of me not to ask,” I admit. And I feel like a heel for not saying that earlier, especially since she knows my name.

“Of course,” she tells me. “It’s—”

My eyes open and I look at the sky. The sun is starting to sink over the horizon. I then focus my eyes on Cov and Merry, who are both talking to some of their friends. He then walks over to me. “Are you sure about this?” Cov asks me. “Because I’ll be honest: this is the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, Pinkie, I gotta admit, this plan of yours has me worried,” Merry then says.

I give them my most honest grin. “Don’t worry, I promise I got this!”

Another one of Cov’s friends came up. “Hey, we set up everything. You sure this is gonna work, man?”

“Not a fuckin’ clue, Stringheart. But she says it is,” Cov tells his friend, pointing at me. Stringheart then focuses his tan eyes on me, as if he’s trying to measure my worth. In turn, I look straight back into his peepers, taking brief looks at his stringy rose-and-gray hair and sad attempt to grow a soul patch, as if it’ll make him look more mature. Give it a decade more, dude.

But then he looks closer and sees something in my eyes. No idea what it is, but he suddenly backs off and looks at me like I’m some sort of live snake. “Dude, this bitch is stone cold. Where the fuck’d you dig her up?” I just look at him again and give him a smile, and he backs off, mutters something to Cov, and then walks away.

“What did you do to him, Pinkie?” Cov asks me. “Stringheart used to hang with Hope’s crew before she showed up, so he knows some hardasses. And you just made him walk south. What the hell did you do?”

“I was just me,” I answered honestly, then got up from where I was sitting. “Now, is everything set up?”

“Yes, as weird as this sounds. We set up all the amps we could find, as well as small cameras to record everything,” Cov says. “Why you want me to do this, I have no idea.”

I give him another of my patented Pinkie grins; unfortunately, he’s not from Canterlot, so he has no idea what that means. “Trust me,” I tell him. “I have it all under control.”

“You keep saying that,” he tells me, “and so far, you haven’t proven anything.”

I give him another one of my patented Pinkie looks. “I don’t need to – I’m Pinkie Pie.”

He groans and with that, I know I’ve got his complete attention, because I’ve just frustrated him to the point of near-pissed-offness. (Is that a word? It is now!) “Pinkie, I’m being serious!”

“And so am I. I can’t explain it, because…well, you’ve never seen anything like it. Nothing like before, or after – and I promise you that when this is all over, people will be talking about this for some time to come.” I decide to show off a little and kipup back to my feet.

I see that gets his attention. “How…?”

“Because I’m Pinkie Pie – and that’s all the answer you’re ever going to need.”

I look into the sky and see that it’s almost time for sunset. Oh, how I wish it was time for a different Sunset, but I need to put away my personal feelings for a moment or two, now that I know what they are.

I decide to go sit in the middle of the Club grounds, with the coliseum of rusted cars and oxidizing trucks, all of which show detritus from vehicular ages long past. At one time, these cars were new and shiny and bright, filled with promise of the open road and the chrome-and-polyster future that they expected. But those times are gone now, and instead of Detroit steel we have aircraft-grade aluminum and fiberglass from Oppama or Mexico City.

It makes me wonder about those that came before: are any of these cars that of my relatives? Did my father drive that 80’s Chevy that’s lying there, a half-ruined memory of what it once was? Did the Peugeot next to it belong to my mother when she was younger and (theoretically) less of a tightass? What about my aunt and one of those cars? My grandparents? Hell, some of the cars here date back to what looks like the fifties and forties, so that’s a definite possibility – there have been Pies here practically as long as there have been cars here. Even longer than that, even!

I close my eyes and think about the last few days as well as what came before that. This trip has been…illuminating, to say the least. I’ve discovered things about myself, about my parents and my “parents”, that I never would’ve known. I’ve seen things that I wouldn’t have expected to see here in a small Midwestern town, and it’s changed my outlook of the world, to a tiny extent – I expect those sorts of things in Canterlot, not here. Guess that just shows how naïve I am, after all.

Then again, I suppose that’s a lesson I’ve already learned the hard way, isn’t it? Still, it was a wise man that once said that change is the end result of all true learning. And I think after this trip, I really have changed.

I came out a better Pinkie.

And now it’s time to put that Pinkie level-up to good use!

“So you did show up!”

I look up to see Hope dragging along Jolly. My friend looks like she’s been roughed up a bit…and that makes my blood boil. Or maybe broil? Braise? Fricassee? (Knew I should’ve brought along some extra snacks!) Hope, on the other hand, has shown her true colors. She’s out here, dressed so much like a stereotypical 80’s-style gangbanger I have to wonder if there’s enough denim and bandanna’s left in this world after she got her outfit. Seriously, midriff jean jacket, black lacy corset bra top, strategically-torn jeans and red bandanna? Could you get any more Double Dragon than that shit? This would give Rarity an aneurysm!

Of course, it also shows that Hope’s…well, got no hope left. Any chance I had to reason with her is clearly out the window and was probably never there to begin with. That isn’t her parents’ fault any more than me getting raped was that of my aunt and uncle’s. Despite what my mother would say, at some point you have to stop blaming the world and start taking responsibility for yourself. And sometimes saints will beget sinners and vice versa – I’m sure the parents of Helter Skelter weren’t expecting their son to grow up to be a satanic serial killer, for example.

Besides, even despite all that, Jolly’s in trouble and she needs someone to help her. That someone has to be me.

Hope looks at me with a predatory leer. “Okay, you know the drill: drop the clothes and prepare to make a lot—” She pointed to all her buddies, none of whom look like they know how to treat a lady like one, “—of people happy. Oh, and you’re going to start with her.” She pulled the knife away from Jolly’s throat, and I know right now Cov wants to come in and play hero, and the only thing stopping him is Merry.

I can see the terror in Jolly’s eyes, and I know how that feels – the fact that your life isn’t yours anymore, and that your next breath depends on what someone else does next. She’s afraid she’ll be destroyed and ruined by people she knows. She’s practically an element of fear right now and nothing I can say right now will make that moment abate. All I can do is prove I’m better than fear.

So I fold my arms and say a single word: “No.”

“No?” The look on Hope’s face is apoplectic, and I know advantage just got handed to me. “Let’s get something straight, bitch: you either hand over your ladybits, or we’re going to take them!”

“No, what you’re going to do is you’re going to let go of Jolly, then you’re going to turn yourself over to your parents – yes, I know the truth. And if that happens, then you and your ragtag band of idiots that only think with their lower head will see another tomorrow…”

“Oh, yeah, sure, like that’s going to happen—”

“…buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut…” I add, letting my grin slide onto my face, “…you’re going to regret the day you crossed me.”

She laughs. “‘Regret the day I crossed you’? That shit only works in the movies!”

“Oh, trust me, I’m a living fantasy,” I tell her, and my mind feels with the blue of the sky, beginning to rush through me. I’m calling to something, and it’s responding back. I can see a smiling girl who’s not really a girl, and I can see myself, as something else, something powerful.

You have to believe we are magic,
Nothing can stand in our way….

I look within and I see myself that is not myself. And she has the same smile and she has the same gleam in her eyes.

Hope, you are so screwed.

“I’m going to give you one last time to surrender,” I tell her, “or you will be the last thing I take down.”

“Last? Wow, you’re stupid. You’d better be as good as you look, little cunt licker.” And with that, she starts reaching down, clearly ready to tear off Jolly’s shirt.

Jolly whimpers.

I move.

“HIT IT!” I roar to the air.

The world fills with sound: a bouncy, jaunty rhythm that I know so well.

“Bievenue à le monde Fantastique en Plastique”

It’s one of my favorite songs. And normally, I would sing along, but right now I’m focused on target acquisition.

“Welcome to the Fantastic Plastic World”

And right now, this is one hell of a target-rich environment.

“Bievenue à le monde Fantastique en Plastique
Welcome to the Fantastic Plastic World”

“What the fuck is this?” I hear one of her minions say, but I’m not worried about that. In turn, Hope looks at me with a look as though I’ve suddenly gone out of my mind.

Instead, I give her a wolfish smile…

“This is recycled out of material”

…and then I flow.

This place is a coliseum of metal, rust and potential tetanus. It’s her seat of power, and with her gang standing around, she thinks she has an advantage, surrounding her victims like a fat spider in the center of her web, eyeing the trapped fly who flew too close, an insect Icarus. Problem is, some bugs know how to fight back against attercops in their native environment.

I move from one place to another, letting the flow take me. Part dance, part art and all Pinkie, I learned it from the karate instructor at the community center. She believed me when I said that I wanted to learn it to improve my dance and cheerleading skills, and it was she who helped me develop this…battlerythm? Martial routine? 刀剣乱舞? Well, whatever it is, it’s a part of me, and I’m letting it take me.

I owe ya one, Bonnie.

I move in close, let the first fist fly. I snap the guy’s head back and the one next to him is smart and fast enough to react. Too bad by the time he does, I’m already on the other side of the ring, feet finding purchase in spots too nimble for these lugs. I do a sliding kick, knocking his buddy off the ground and before he can even react, I’m already gone…

…as the guy twenty feet away just found out when I elbowed him in the gut.

This ring of ruin is about roughly forty feet in diameter, with very few places to step without getting a foot caught or scratched up. These morons have done this so many times that they know where all the safe places are to stand, so they’ve got that memorized. But doing so lets me figure that out and mentally extrapolate where I can weave and flow.

Float like a butterfly.
Sting like a diesel train hitting at 400 miles per.

“Bievenue à le monde Fantastique en Plastique
Welcome to the Fantastic Plastic World”

What, Hope – never seen anyone teleport before?

I know this song deep within my soul and during some games, the coaches have let me do a little dance routine to it during game halftimes. It’s always been a crowd pleaser, even when the crowd has never heard of the song or doesn’t even know what Shibuya-kei is. At this point, I probably know the song better than Fantastic Plastic Machine himself.

Each beat is a strike. Each counterbeat is a dodge, a feint, a movement fast enough that a trained artist would know what I’m doing…maybe. But to uneducated, unconditioned thugs? I’m Goddamn Chun-Li and this whole world is my personal version of Street Fighter V.

“Bievenue à le monde Fantastique en Plastique
This is recycled out of material”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see Hope just lose her shit. I can also see that thankfully, Jolly had enough sense to run out of the area, towards safety. Cov and her friends will make sure of that. Now I just have to do the rest.

I duck, avoiding one of the ones who apparently has a little training. Then again, if we want to be technical, I only have a little training. It’s just that I tend to focus on whatever I want to master, and Bonnie told me with my dance and cheerleader training, I’m a natural for this. Hence why I was fast enough to weave out of the way of his second attack, then land a nice snap kick.

I let out a giggle. This is fun!

Punch! Punch! Kick!
Dodge! That! One!
Take! One! Down!
Pass! It! ‘Round!
I’m! No! Clown!
You! Will! Frown!

“Bievenue à le monde Fantastique en Plastique
Welcome to the Fantastic Plastic World”

I slide right in front of two guys, and before they can even react, I do the splits in front of them and…well, let’s just say that where my punches went? I know at least one guy in particular I’d love to do that to. And as both drop to the ground, I’m gone before they can even react.

So far, Hope and her cronies came in with about forty-one people. And in a matter of…oh, I’d say two minutes or so I’ve already dropped a third of them. Seriously, sparring with Bonnie is harder.

And now someone’s coming towards me, so least I can do is meet him halfway, right? Only the polite thing to do, after all.

I get there, and the moment I do, he aims a blow right where my head would’ve been. He knows what he’s doing. She finally brought in her big gun!

“This is recycled out of material”

His fist grazes my face, and I’m going to have a bruise I’m going to have to explain to my aunt and uncle; it’s worth it, though, as it means I can grab his arm...

…slip around that and his head like a monkey…

…then pull back as hard my leg muscles will let. Doesn’t matter how this guy’s built, those of us in the XX club have stronger leg muscles and right now, I’m using them to cut off his oxygen supply. Probably wasn’t using much to begin with, to be honest.

I let him fall to the ground and look at three others, just as the song ends.

I give them what I hope is a cute smile. “You know, I left the others a whole playlist to work with,” I begin.

I’m not surprised when they run.

As they depart, I jump down to where Hope is. “Seriously, you need to work on getting better minions. Haven’t you seen that movie?”

In response, she spits at me. How rude.

So I treat her how she deserves to be treated: so I slap her as hard as I can. She then tries to stab me with that knife of hers, and I take her wrist and squeeze. As she screams, I take the knife and then palm her in the stomach. Not hard enough to hurt (though she has certainly earned that), but just enough to get the point. I then throw the knife away, not worried about where it’ll land – this battle is over.

“What do you want? To make me beg?” Hope snarls at me. “I’m the one in control, not you!”

“Does this look like you’re in control?” I ask her. “You threatened an innocent girl. You blackmailed me with the intent of causing harm to me and Jolly. You’ve ruined countless lives, all of girls who wanted to be your friend. And now you have nothing.”

“Fuck you!”

“No – there’s someone I love who I want to share that moment with. And that person is not you,” I tell her. “Now, we’re going to march you back to your house. If you’re lucky – really lucky – your parents will deal with you. Though, truth be told, that really should be out of their hands at this point, and that’s not their fault. That entirely belongs on your shoulders.” I fold my arms and look at her. “Get up.”

She laughs, as if I just told a joke – believe me, I’m not joking. “And you’re going to make me how, Cali Girl?” she taunts. “You’ll be gone soon, and my parents’ll just lecture me and maybe ground me for a month. And then after that? I’m free to do whatever I want again – and the first thing I’m going to do is make Jolly my bitch. You come back, you’ll see I’ll break her so hard she’ll beg me to let her lick me in the fun zone. She’ll beg for me to put a strap-on and ram her like a trainwreck!” She got up and looked me right in the eyes. “So, why do you think that you have any chance of stopping me from doing whatever I want?”

My eyes narrowed and I saw red. She just threatened—! I…she…. I forced myself to calm down and recompose myself. The rage I’d once felt against Sunny was nothing compared to this. She had just equated herself to Atlas and Cicely, and did so proudly. I cannot….

I feel my body burn like a star, a blue supergiant blazing with the kind of power that just incinerates to component atoms. I take a step away from her…

…and then let my fist slam into the ground. The earth and loam shatters around me, causing a meteoric crater. I then literally blink over to one of the nearby hulks, and slam my fist into its engine. For a normal person, even as old and rusted as these are, is tantamount to shattering their knuckles. So it doesn’t surprise me when I put my fist through the thing, rust and metal shavings rolling around my hand as though it was a rock in an oxidized river. I withdraw my hand to see the rough-shaped paper-like tear. My hand is glowing with azure power and I don’t have to guess what I probably look like right now; after all, I’ve done this once before.

I do turn to look at Hope, and she’s staring at me with horror in her eyes. She’s also wet herself, and ironically, that’s probably the worst I’ve done to her and that didn’t even involve laying a hand on her. But I don’t need to. She got the message.

But just in case….

“Do anything, and I will come back,” I thunder quietly. “And if you think this little display of power is big, well…this is just a fraction of what I can do.” I don’t know if it’s true or not, but then again, I really don’t like playing the heavy to begin with. I take a step towards her, but she just falls back and starts to crab crawl away from me, her terrified eyes never once removing themselves from my sight.

“S-ST-STAY AWAY FROM ME, YOU MONSTER!” she shrieks as tears of terror roll down her cheeks. I feel slightly guilty about it, but as I feel myself shift back to normal, there’s not much I can do. I had to do what I needed to in order to save Jolly and stop Hope, and that’s been done. Whether or not I like it…it’s been done.

A few seconds later, Cov, Merry, Jolly and the others show up, looking at me as though they too, are horrified. “Pinkie….” Jolly starts.

“How much did you see?” I ask.

“All of it,” Cov admits. “We recorded it for evidence, but—”

“Destroy it,” I interject; while I’d initially planned to use it as extra evidence against Hope, things didn’t go the way that I planned and now it could be used against me. “Please. For my sake and for that of those I love, please.”

“You’re…human, right?” Merry asks, pointing at the top of my head and what had been there earlier.

“As far as I know,” I tell her. “I started out human, but…well, that’s not important.”

“We’ll destroy everything,” Jolly says with finality. “I owe you big time, and besides, we have more than enough of what everyone else heard.” She looks at them. “And we’re not going to say a single thing, are we?”

“I don’t think anyone would believe us, anyway,” Cov tells me, shrugging. “Besides, Jolly’s right. I owe you and I intend to keep my promise. He then hooks a thumb at Hope and asks, “But in the meantime, what are you going to do with her? I mean, between you beating up her gang and them running for the hills, she’s alone now.”

“We take her back,” I tell them. “We let her parents decide.”

And as I explain that, I realize I’m going to have to explain my bruise, as well as my abrupt departure, and…oh my goodness, oh my damn, Mom’s going to go ham over this shit.

I sigh. Can’t I just get to the happily ever after with Sunny, now?

Author's Note

In case you're curious as to what song Pinkie was dancing to....

/genyaarikado/fantastic-plastic-machine-1

March 28: Pure

So…nobody took it well when I came home with that bruise. They especially didn’t take it well when Mrs. Amore called and explained that I’d supposedly single-handedly taken down both Hope and her entire gang, according to her…as well as some other things. Thankfully, Mrs. Amore didn’t believe any of it, but what everyone did believe was that I got involved in some sort of gang fight – which didn’t go over well with either my parents or my aunt and uncle.

And now here I sit in my sister’s room, grounded for the foreseeable future. That was bad enough, but then I made things worse: Auntie Cup and Mom apparently had a huge fight to the point that Dad and Uncle Carrot had to separate them. I knew the moment that happened, that I was going to pay for it.

That and after the adrenaline wore off, reality started to set in. Did I really feel the way I do about Sunny? There’s a certain…euphoria…that comes over me when I think about her. And it’s certainly possible to sexually desire someone without actually loving them. There’s a few people I feel about that way, and I certainly wouldn’t date them for a variety of reasons. And yet….

I look at the clock. It’s two in the morning, and I’m going to spend the next two remaining days grounded. Mom is already arguing that this is proof why I “shouldn’t be with the legions of sinners that is Canterlot’s populace”. Well, Mom, fuck you very little – Canterlot is my home and I’ll take being grounded in perpetuity by Auntie Cup and Uncle Carrot if it means I get to go home and see her.

I feel heat rise through my body and that only adds to the confusion. I want to love Sunny. She means a lot to me, possibly the world. But I don’t know if I do. And the fact that I want her between my thighs, tongue probing making me scream in ecstasy makes me question everything even more.

Times like this I wish I had a boyfriend – an actual boyfriend, you know, the kind you can actually trust. My life would be so much simpler then.

Suddenly, there’s a gentle knock at the door and I hear a familiar voice. “Pinkie?”

My heart leaps in my throat. “Maud?”

“Can I come in?” I’m surprised she even has to ask. My older sister knows me well enough to know I’d never deny her anything. Maud’s strong, brave, exuberant, all the things I wish I could be and try to emulate. If there’s one person in the world I truly idolize, it would be her, and she knows that – and I know she loves me enough to come to my need whenever something’s wrong.

But given the time of morning and the fact that she’s here….

I sigh and open the door, to see my sister as I’ve never seen her before: she’s standing there, wearing a leather jacket, choker, hoop earrings, jeans and a bustier top. Makeup, and while my sister usually never bothers, it makes her look sexy right now. Honestly, this is something I’d expect to see Sunny in (get that thought out of your brains, Pinkie!) as opposed to my sister. Still, while my sister tends to be outgoing and exuberant, this is a bit…well, risqué for what she normally wears.

“Maud?” I ask again.

I see a wide grin come onto her face and suddenly I wonder if I stepped into the Twilight Zone. “What, never seen me like this before, little sister?” I can feel my bicuspid decide it’s going to lay down now, and my sister laughs musically. She never laughs musically – that’s Tavi’s job!

She gives me a smile and puts an arm around me and I suddenly feel distinctly uncomfortable, like there’s a stranger in my sister’s skin. “Something the matter, Pinks?” But then the smile shrinks and she says in her normal voice, “Is this better?”

My arms go around her before I can even react. “Maud!” I chirp.

She covers my mouth. “Not so loud,” she tells me in her usual soft tones. “Come on, let’s go to the barn.”

“Why?”

“Because we need to talk – Aunt Cup insisted on it – and I need to change before Mom sees me. She’ll blow a Goddamn fuse if she sees me like this.”

“You can’t change in here?”

“Trust me, Pinkie,” she tells me, becoming that other Maud, “I think you’re ready for this, but she’s not.” Not waiting for my answer, she heads downstairs. A second later, so do I.

The things you find out about the people you love sometimes will shock you. For example, I know Rainbow said Scootaloo was heartbroken when she found out that she was adopted; likewise, I know Tavi complains about her mother’s side of her family and all the weird shit that goes on there. But just seeing them as I know them, sans info, I would never have suspected that about either.

And right now that comes to mind as I look at my sister and realize I may have never known my sister – my dear, beloved older sister – at any time in my life. This…this Maud…she’s nothing like the sister I know. My sister is outspoken, brave, a bit emotional, but dependable and always there for me.

The woman in front of me?

She’s literally changing in front of me as if it’s no big deal. We’re in the barn, and she’s undressed save for her underwear, which is lacy, drawstring and nearly not there. She’s got some tattoos on her arm. She has a tramp stamp!

Meanwhile, she’s washing her face in the basin and using a towel she brought with her. “Jesus fuck this is cold as hell,” I hear her mutter. “Really gotta ask Dad why we only have cold water in here.” She then turns to me. “Okay, toss me some clothing.” I look at her and then at the clothing she was wearing. She gives me a smile in turn and says, “Those are staying in my car, okay?”

“Do I know you?” I blurt out.

I hear her sigh. “Pinkie….”

“No, seriously. This trip has been about images being shattered and facades being torn down. Someone I thought I could trust turned out to be a gangbanger of the girl-on-girl rapey kind. A guy I thought was some dudebro asshole turned out to be totally dateable material. And I see yet more signs that our mother is Biblethumping with a two-by-four!” I then can’t help but say, “And now you.”

“You’re one to talk,” she tells me. “You don’t open up and tell our parents what you really think. You had to explode during Christmas and I had to cover for your ass, Pinkie. Would I have done that if I wasn’t the sister you know?”

“But….” I gesture at her. “This!”

She laughs and I feel kinda creeped out. “Pinkie, I love you dearly, but you’re nearly an adult. Use your brain, little sister. You show a different side of yourself to your friends than you show to me, or our aunt and uncle, or our parents, am I right? Why should that be any different for me?” She walked over to where I was sitting and grabbed her bag, pulling a plain, faded eggplant t-shirt and somewhat baggy jeans, far looser than what’d she’d been wearing. “So I guess you want some answers?”

“Only if you want to give them to me,” I tell her.

“Only if you want to know,” she replies in turn. I say nothing and wordlessly wave; I doubt I’m going to get any sleep tonight anyway. She then takes my face in her hands and looks at me, eye to eye.

“Pinkie, please,” she tells me, and I see her eyes. I know those eyes, more than anything. Those eyes have been there at important points in my life, wiped away my tears, given me hugs and said that no matter what happened or wherever she was, I would always have my older sister’s love. And no matter what, I know I love my older sister to bits.

“Go ahead,” I tell her.

She gives me a hug, and we hold each other for countless minutes before she lets me go and starts. “Kenny…Kennelworth, my fiancé…he’s shown me a lot of things. We’ve traveled, he’s shown me things that I never knew existed….” A soft smile, the kind of a girl in love, came onto her face, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Jazz in New Orleans, time in Florida, romantic nights in Atlanta – he knows how to treat a girl right. He was born in Brazil, loves Latin jazz and bossa nova – he turned me on to that and so much more, Pinkie. Just like you can’t be a girl that grew up here, I can’t be the person I used to be. I don’t want to be the person I used to be.”

“Maud….”

She shakes her head. “I’m still your sister, Pinkie. I’m still always going to be there for you. But I’m a woman now, and I don’t live under Ma’s skirts – and I don’t want you to. It’s already bad enough that she’s got Marble and Limestone thinking the same way she does to some degree, and I don’t think Pa’s going to be a moderating influence there.” She then gives me an awkward smile and adds, “You know, I’ve always been jealous of you to some degree.”

“Me?”

“You have always been allowed to find out who you really are, Pinkie. You didn’t have to be afraid of Ma frowning on every little thing you did. You didn’t have to see the arguments between Ma and Pa watching me grow up – hell, you saw how Ma reacted when she found out about my, ahem, ‘experimentation’. Can you imagine how she’d react if I actually was a lesbian?”

It takes everything in me not to blanche at those words.

Maud puts her hands on my shoulders and says, “I trust you with this secret, Pinkie, because I love you. And I know if you had anything secret, you would tell me, too. It’s just who we are.” She closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, she’s…Maud. But now I know she’s not really Maud – this isn’t the Maudelline Erica Pie that’s my older sister. This is a mask, just like the one I wear.

I wonder if my mother wears one as well?

I don’t get any sleep tonight. My sister and I have our real first talk not just as sisters, but as women. I dance around the subject of who I like, mainly because I’m still not sure that my feelings for Sunny aren’t just sexual. Meanwhile, she talks about Kennelworth and how happy he makes her; he kinda sounds like a guy version of Flutters, to be honest, not like that’s a bad thing, or anything. She tells me they moved in together two months ago and that his family just absolutely loves her – I don’t blame them; Maud’s worth loving.

We talk about some of her friends. Dizzy, in particular, seems to remind me of someone, though I can’t put my finger on it for some reason; she’s a party kind of gal and wants to be a caterer when she gets out of college. Starflare, on the other hand, seems to have a mercurial personality and is a notorious flirt; had she not been such a close friend of my sister’s, she probably would’ve started to chase Kennelworth, Maud says.

In turn, I talk about my friends and how we’ve coped in the wake of the Vibe. She looks at me as though she knows I know something more, but then I cover that by telling her about what happened to Rares and Tavi and that we were really worried about both of them. She backs down after that, and my secret is once again safe, though I hate lying to her – even omission and deception is a lie, and I care about Maud too much to treat her like that.

She asks me if I have anyone in my life. I work on that practiced lie, that I had someone in my life, but he moved away – that much is true, though not the whole story. She asks me if I’m interested in anyone else. I demur to that as well; I tell her there is, but I’m not sure whether it’s just infatuation or whether I have actual feelings. She then tells me about the first guy she dated when she went to college; that she and Skydancer just didn’t click, but she hadn’t realized that until after she’d slept with him. She says that if I love someone I should really find out whether or not that person is the one before I get intimate. My heart shrivels a little when I hear that.

Finally, the morning comes and we’ve migrated back to my room. Maud’s asleep and I’m listening to the music on her phone, which she thought I’d like. And I feel sleepy myself, especially given that I’ve stayed up the whole night and bonded with my sister. As cliché as it sounds, I think I’ve grown a little as a result of that.

And as I feel my eyelids get heavy and my breath slows, I hear gently lilting music as the dreamlands open their ivory gates and the sandman spreads his dream dust.

I find myself on a tropical beach somewhere, wearing a sheer white bikini that pretty much leaves nothing to the imagination. I’m wearing what looks like golden bangles as well, and I’m headed towards a beachside cabana. Only this isn’t any ordinary bungalow – this is a palace, wrought with gold and platinum, made of shining marble and looking like something out of an old Hollywood film about Egypt, Greece or Rome. As I walk through it, the opulence is enough to probably make Rares blow a mental gasket or something – this is obscene levels of wealth, needless to say.

My feet know where they’re going more than I do, as my steps are purposeful and my stride confident. I’ve never been here, would never be in a place like this, but somehow I feel like I own the place, like I know every fern frond and step of the silken brocades and velvety carpet. None of this makes sense, and yet it’s perfectly normal as I pass through what feels like hallowed halls, towards a gilded spiral staircase, festooned with rose petals of every description. Without thinking twice, I venture up the steps, alighting towards a second floor.

As I reach the second floor, I see a massive chamber filled with rose petals and an even more ornate display, if that makes sense. And at the far end of the room, laying on a bed behind a wall of semi-transparent gauze, was a figure, unidentifiable. But from the moment I stepped into the room, I could feel the heat in my body rising, a primal need to be touched, to be…

“Hello, my love.”

I know that voice – I know that voice! My body quivers and I suddenly feel my clothing melt off, exposing my womanhood; the only thing I’m wearing are my bangles and my birthday suit. A primal urge like nothing I’ve ever felt before engulfs me and if I’d ever thought the urge to have an intimate moment with anyone, this is my body screaming to be fucked – to be what Atlas and Cicely wanted me to be. Knowing that, I crumple in on myself, curling into a fetal ball and whimpering.

I’m a Goddamn worthless whore, three holes and two hands. They were right about me; it just took me until now to figure it out. I start to cry, knowing that the woman I love is on the other side of that sheer blind, and I’m forever separated from her because of my uncleanliness.

Because I’m a whore.

A dirty

fucking

whore!

“Don’t cry, my love.” I feel a tingle underneath my chin, and aqualight holds it up. I feel my tears suddenly dry and the agony vanishes as if blown away by a warm summer wind. “I would not have you feel such a lie about yourself.” Before I can say anything, I feel myself lifted to my feet, then aloft, a feather in an all-encompassing wind.

“But I’m—”

“My bride. My shieldmaiden. The yin to my yang,” that all-too familiar voice says as my body drifts towards the canopied bed. The shape moves once more and I know that body, that hair, that facial shape. My desire fights with my shame and I don’t know what to say. But before I can even think of what to make of this, I find myself at the foot of the bed.

I smell lavender and rose, and something else, something that’s making it hard for me to keep myself under control. My hands caress my own body, knowing the curvature of my own features, making my need even greater.

“I know you want me,” I hear the voice say, music to my ears. “And if you are ready, you shall have me.”

I gasp and I feel moisture. My breath is a torrent I can barely hold in, and my heart wars with my mind. I want her. I want her so badly, and my nethers soak like the Pacific. It takes everything to prevent me from diving onto the bed…but to do that would make me no better than Atlas and Cicely.

At last, the curtains part…

…and an amber unicorn the size of a medium dog pokes its head out. I use the term “unicorn” loosely, because this isn’t a terrestrial equine and by that I mean one of this world. No, this is the woman I love, in her true form – and for the first time I realize that I’m in love with an alien…a literal, not-of-this-world alien.

She looks at me with impossibly huge eyes, but with the color that I’ve known so well. “Nothing to say?” she asks me, a sympathetic look etching itself on her face; amazing that non-human face is so humanly expressive. “No desire to take me now, to slip between my stifle?” She shakes her head and her hair – her mane – continues to burn with the ruby and gold that wrapped around my heart ages ago.

She rubs against me. “If you want me, you can have me. Right now, this moment. I will bend for you, my love, my shield, my bride.” She then looks me right in the eye and says, “But you can’t, can you? Because I’m not a woman, but a mare.”

I look at her. My mind is tying the luscious girl I want so much with the animal I wouldn’t dare. And I don’t know what to do or what to say.

Sunny looks at me and says, “If you love me…if you really want to love me, you have to know what I am and accept that. I am more than just a girl and more than just a unicorn. And if you truly wish me to make my heart yours, you have to be willing to love me.”

And then I wake up. The sun is just edging over the horizon, and in the distance a cockerel crows, heralding the dawn. Maud is still asleep next to me, and if I listen carefully I can hear my mother and my aunt bickering downstairs. I feel sticky…in that kind of way, and my eyes feel dry and I don’t have to guess why.

I lie there in my own musk and sweat, thinking about the ordeal my own mind just put me through. I love Sunny, don’t I? I shouldn’t care what she looks like – hell, I’m bi, for fuck’s sake! Or does this make me pan? And yet…

“And if you truly wish me to make my heart yours, you have to be willing to love me.” The words echo in my head and although I know how I feel in my heart, the mind is a different matter. And I have no one I can talk to about it – I’m not sure I dare even share this with Maud, though I know she’d understand.

It’s then that I notice I still have the headphones on. Not knowing what else to do, I decide to press play on the phone and listen to the next song. What sounds like Latin jazz-influenced downtempo plays over the speakers, something I didn’t expect from Maud, while a woman sings a beautiful song in a language I don’t understand:

“Tentei contar,
Tentei cantar,
Tentei just la la la ia

“Tentei tocar,
Também dançar,
Assim, só para deixar”

I suddenly sit up. Did I just…? I look around and the room still seems the same, but I swore that I just heard…. I shake my head and slip the earbuds in once more, letting the song carry me away.

“Só quero te dar
Se te falar
Se te just la la la ia

“Só quero estar,
Com seu cantar,
Com seu just la la la ia….”

I suddenly feel lips on mine, gentle and loving. I return the kiss, eagerly, without opening my eyes, but smelling the heady scents of rose and lavender. I don’t notice the lips are fuzzy. I don’t care that the lips I’m kissing may not quite match up with mine. It doesn’t matter. I’m in love with Sunset Shimmer, this I know. The woman known as Sunset Shimmer. The mare known as Sunset Shimmer as well.

She is my princess.

I am her shieldmaiden and her bride.

This is how it always was, and how it always will be. My life was never my own, though I didn’t know it.

And…I’m okay with this.

“Just like this rainstorm,
This August day song,
I dream of places far beyond….”

I open my eyes, and I see my Sunny sitting there. Right now, she’s human, but…it doesn’t matter to me anymore. Only that I’m hers, and that my heart belongs to her.

Sunny reaches out and caresses my cheek. “And now you know,” she says to me. “And hopefully someday I’ll be able to return what you give me.”

And then I wake up. The sun is just edging over the horizon, and in the distance a cockerel crows, heralding the dawn. Maud is still asleep next to me, and if I listen carefully I can hear my mother and my aunt bickering downstairs. I feel…sticky. But…it’s a good kind of sticky, you know? An outpouring of love, your body telling you that yes, you love someone so much that even your body celebrates it.

Still…my sister doesn’t need to know that. I’m going to need a shower, pronto.

I come downstairs to see everyone fawning over Maud. She’s in that “Maud” mode, and now that I know what it is, I love my sister all the more for it. She could be herself – the person she wants to be – but she remains like this for Mom’s sake, even though Dad may have an inkling that his older daughters aren’t exactly what they seem to be. Besides, she deserves this time, given that she’s going to be here less and less as the years go by. I certainly know how that feels.

Finally, they notice that I’m here and we all sit down to breakfast. Naturally, they completely pester Maud on how she’s doing at school, how her boyfriend is – she didn’t tell them she was engaged? – and what her plans are when she graduates in a couple of years. She tells them that she’s looking into either a position as a geology professor, or that the local government office may want to hire geologists; she’s fine with either. Dad nods in understanding, but I see mother’s jawline firm up and I know the ride’s about to start.

Thankfully, however, Dad blunts it. “It’s good to have the girls here while they still can,” he says to my mother. “After all, they’re growing up, and they have their own lives to lead, becoming women we’ll be proud of.” From the sudden look of surprise on my mother’s face, he just decapitated whatever comment she was going to make. I have to wonder what it was.

As if discussing the weather, my aunt adds, “Pinkie is absolutely happy and excelling in Canterlot. I don’t think uprooting her would do a bit of good, Quartz.” I instantly get what my aunt implies and I swear, I want to lose it right then and there.

“Dazzle, my child put herself at risk! For that little sinner next door! Don’t you think she would be safer away from such heathen places as the city? I mean, look what it’s done to that little Hope trollop!”

“And yet all that happened here, in the country,” Dad reminds her, “not in Canterlot – where she’s safe with family.”

“And you know what happened in that hellish place!” my mom counters. “And how many of them deserved it? I refuse to let our daughter spend one more moment in that pla—”

Buttons pushed. Hard.

“You do,” I hiss, “and I will file emancipation papers the next day! I do not want to live here! This is not my life, and you can’t make it mine!” The anger that’s on my face takes my mother by surprise, but somehow, neither my aunt, my uncle or my father are surprised by this. I can see the barest traces of a smile on Maud’s face.

Seeing that tiny bit of support, I continue. “I get that you love me and you want to protect me – but I am nearly an adult. Maybe I’m not ready for the world and maybe cities aren’t the best place to live at times. But you know what? What I saw this week means I wouldn’t be safe anywhere. And if you wanted us to just be safe, you shouldn’t have had any children!

“This…this place. I’ll cherish it, because it’s where family is. But this isn’t home. I wasn’t even six months old when you sent me to live in Canterlot – a decision that kept me alive and healthy. But when you did that, you trusted Auntie Cup and Uncle Carrot to take care of me. And not only did they, but they thought it was safe enough to have children of their own. So Canterlot can’t be bad, right?”

“Pinkamena,” my mother started, but I wasn’t going to let her finish.

“In two days we leave for home,” I told her. “I’m going to spend that time with Maud, because she and I think more alike than you realize, Mom. Think about the sort of relationship you want to have with me – if you actually do.” Without even eating breakfast I went back up to the bedroom. I knew I wasn’t going to hear the end of this from Auntie Cup and it would definitely add to my grounding.

But you know what?

For Sunny? I’d do it all again.

August 14, PM: Simply So

“And that’s everything in a nutshell,” I tell Sunny. I know that look on her face, the kind that’s trying to put two and two together and make five. Scary part is, I know she can do it. Hell, if there’s anyone on this planet that can do it, it’s her.

“I…uh, thanks for sharing that with me?” she tells me and I wonder if I went a few too many times into FYI-land. Then again, she has to know that I’m a healthy girl with a healthy need for her to hunt in my jungle!

I wonder if I should get a Brazilian?

“Well, you wanted to know, and it is a long story,” I admit. “Besides, the story isn’t really over.”

“It isn’t?”

I shake my head. “No. I keep in touch with Merry and Cov, and well…the story doesn’t end happy. Well, Hope, she ended up going to trial for everything she did. Her parents, they tried, I’m sure they did, but—”

I feel Sunny take my hand in hers for a second while I have it off the steering wheel. “You did your best,” she tells me, not taking her eyes off the road, then turns and gives me a smile. “I’m sure of that.”

“I know. But Hope wasn’t the kind of person that learned from her mistakes.” I feel my eyes sting; I wasn’t there for it, but…. “It was Merry that told me. Hope didn’t end up in juvie – she was tried as an adult and ended up in the Newport Women’s Prison. It was there….” I sigh; I know it’s not my fault, I know that. But that doesn’t absolve me for not trying hard enough. “They said that she got into a prison fight, and….”

“You don’t have to talk about this.”

“You’re right, I don’t. And I don’t want to spoil the mood anyway.” Besides, she’s gone now, I failed and I just ruined whatever chance I had with Sunny right now. Then again, I’m driving and we have all the other girls here, so it’s kinda hard to stop the van and go do the “Chevy Van” song thing.

“Pinkie….”

“As for Merry and Cov, well, they’re an item now,” I tell my friend and would-be love interest. “Jolly says that at the rate they go like rabbits, Merry might have a kid before they graduate. But I guess in that part of the country, that’s normal. As for Jolly, a lot of people still picked on her until they found out that she was capable of fixing a lot of things, like cars and such. Well, after that, she got popular with the boys, and of course nobody wants to fuck with a girl who’s the kid sister of the school’s football star. Last I heard, she’s got a circle of friends of her own, a slate of boys who would love to get to know her better and anyone who was on her bad side is either trying hard to change that or staying clear.

“Maud didn’t bother telling Mom her secret. When she saw what was going on, I think she opted to not make things worse. I don’t blame her. I’m still kinda getting over the fact that my sister’s different from the person I saw earlier, but somehow I think it suits her much better.”

“And your Mom?”

“I…I’m not sure about that,” I admit. “I still love her, but…. Well, if you want to know why I was grounded the week you came back from your trip, that was why. Although Auntie did let me off easily for saying what was on my mind. Still, I hope I can forgive my mother for what she said. Of course, I probably should seek forgiveness as well, but...I guess you know about fighting with your mother, right?”

I can see her nod out of the corner of her eyes. I wonder what that’s like, fighting with your mother when your mother is a Goddess-Queen. No wonder Sunny felt like she was exiled – that probably makes being grounded like nothing in comparison.

Still, I guess if Sunny can make up with her mother, I can make up with mine, right? Stranger things have happened.

“Pinkie, pull over a sec, okay?” she asks, me and I comply. She then looks at me and says, “Look, what happened in my situation? I don’t want you to go through with that. Granted, I really doubt your situation is the same as mine or that you’ll go to the lengths that I had to deal with,” she tells me with a smile, “but you love your mother and she loves you too. Don’t let it get to the point where you don’t feel you can deal with her anymore. Trust me, that’s not something you should live for.”

“I understand. And I don’t want it to get to that point, because if it does, I know that my parents will divorce and I definitely don’t want that. So…I’ll do what I can, Sunny, I promise.”

To my surprise, she kisses me on the cheek. Little closer to my mouth, please?

“I know you will,” she tells me, then gives me that smile that I feel is only for me.

Sunny, please stop tempting me!

March 24: Make You Feel

The first thing I felt was a gentle shoulder, shaking me out of whatever restless sleep I got. I slowly open my eyes and look into caring green ones, framed with shaggy orange hair looking down at me.

“Plane just landed, sweetie,” my uncle Carrot says, hefting my backpack out from the overhead compartment. “We’re gonna start debarking in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Uncle Carrot,” I tell him, stretching briefly, as the book I’d been reading earlier falls to the floor. I pick it up, glad Twily was willing to lend me her copy of The Interpretation of Dreams. I know she looked at me kinda oddly at first – not that I blame her, who reads Dr. Trammetung in their off-time? But with that informal contest I have going with Derpy, one of us has to get the top score in lit, plus one of us has to be the one to drive Ms. Cheerilee up the walls again.

I smirk inwardly. Really, I like her, I do. I generally tend to like most people, as others have figured out. But the truth is, there’s something about Ms. C. that reminds me a little bit of my mother, and well….

As the captain or someone makes an announcement on the plane’s speaker, I look out the window at the gateway to hell. Well, my personal hell, that is: Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport, or XNA if you prefer to use the IATA code. The airport that handles all the little local farms, quarries and Bentonville, the town that’s my birthplace.

“Pinkie?” I turn to look at my aunt, Dazzle Cake, or as she prefers, “Cup”. She told me once that she got the nickname as a child by literally making cupcakes in coffee mugs since their house didn’t have a cupcake pan, and the moniker stuck throughout her life. Either way, she feels more comfortable with that than her birth name, and Uncle Carrot once told me he didn’t even know Cup wasn’t her real name until he saw her driver’s license.

“I’m fine, Auntie,” I tell her. “It’s just….” I don’t finish the words. She already knows what I’m going to say – she grew up here, after all.

Despite holding the twins in her embrace, she manages to put an arm around me anyway. “I know, dear. You don’t have to say a word.” Apparently I’m not the only one who remembers the crapfest that was last Christmas. I really don’t want to go through that shit again, I really don’t.

“Now, would you mind grabbing the twins’ baby bag for me? I’m having a hard time holding these two in one arm,” my aunt admits.

“Sure,” I tell her, grabbing it; out of the corner of my eye I can see my uncle already making his way off the plane so he can get to the luggage section – and the much-needed stroller – as soon as possible. Leaves me to walk slowly with my aunt down the concourse.

I’ll live.

I hope.

After what must have been about twenty minutes of playing catch-that-bag-before-it-goes-around-the-baggage-carousel-again far too many times, we’re loading the rental van Uncle Carrot picked up. There’s a slight breeze – why the hell is there always a slight breeze every time I walk through the airport? I could come on a perfectly clear day like this one, and somehow there’s a breeze! Rain? Breeze. Snow? Breeze. Post-apocalyptic zombie-infested Armageddon? Better get that mutant a windbreaker!

Well, at least the breeze takes my mind off the usual thought process I have when I’m here, which is the obvious: this isn’t my home. This isn’t where I belong. The farms and rural houses are as much my reality as the Little House on the Prairie shows my aunt occasionally plays on the Hallmark channel when the little old ladies have their Bingo and Crochet Nights.

Don’t get me wrong, this is where I came from once, and you can never really get away from that. So much of what makes me…well, me. But moreso, it’s what I’ve become that makes me the person I am.

As we all clamber into the rental, a Grand Caravan, Auntie Cup asks me to sit in the front with my uncle so she can change the twins, which I have no problem with. I switch places with her and as I do, my uncle asks me to find a station in town, since I’m here so often. I don’t exactly let him know that I tend to stick to the MP3s I have saved on my phone and my free subscription to Slacker that came with my S5, so I fiddle with the preselect button for a few.

“Heya all, you’re listening to station KQXD – Bentonville’s #1 source for jazz! I’m your sweet sweet host, Coal Flint and I’m gonna bring up some gorgeous tunes from Bola Sete in a second. But first, have you been paying attention to the news? That stuff coming out of California with kids and sex rings and mind control drugs? Man, don’t know about you all, but I ain’t ever sending my kid to school out west – too wild! All those poor girls—”

Before I can even react, I see my uncle’s hand reach over and hit the next preselect station, which, thankfully is playing something – anything – different than what I just heard.

“Can’t believe they’ve sensationalized that stuff,” he mutters and I mutely nod, not sure what else I can add to the conversation.

“You’d think we could get away from all that, even for a just a while,” Auntie Cup says from the back seat.

I wish I could. I really wish I could. But even if none of those other girls happened, I was – am – Pandora’s Box. I was opened, literally and figuratively, in the worst way possible. And once the box is opened, it can never be shut.

About twenty minutes later – and thankful that as ironic as it is, the classic rock station in town is less sensationalist than its jazz one – we arrive in the little suburb of Rockton and more importantly, pass an all-too-familiar wooden fence facing Western Farm Route 99, and it’s not long before we come across the old familiar gate with the PIE FAMILY ROCK FARM sign on it. Every time I see that thing I have to wonder how we ever manage to get by without getting sued by someone. I mean, let’s be honest here: I’m not a farmer’s daughter, I’m a quarryman’s daughter. And it’s weird enough having a rock quarry so close to a lake – Lake Beaver is that snake-like thing just on the other side of the hills from the homestead – and you’d think that we’d be either a fish farm, something to do with recreation or just a regular farm. But no, my ancestor Rhubarb Pie decided that he wanted this lovely little piece of land after the Civil War was over and it turned out to be shittacular for farming, but great for stonemining and stonecrafting…

…as the life-size granite sculpture of him and his wife, Laughs Lots (I have to wonder what my greatxwhatever-grandmother’s name originally was; I recall Mom telling me once that “Laughs Lots” is a translation from her Indian name) indicates. We drive by that and the business office to the quarry, as well as the employee parking lot and the structures for the corporation part of the complex. The residential area, where my family has lived since forever, is still a quarter-mile away, closer to the softer lands and a secondary, explorative quarry that was abandoned and over the years turned into a pond that freezes over in the winter. I think Dad’s considered building a residence-only road that will connect to Country Road 3124, but the quarry road is easier to access the city from.

As we reach the house, to our surprise, it’s surrounded by cars – and unless someone mistook the place for empty and decided to hold a rock festival on the quarry grounds (which in itself would be hilariously ironic), my parents are actually having friends over.

Weird, I didn’t think they even had any.

Apparently I’m not the only one who thinks that, as Auntie Cup picks that moment to comment, “Wait – when did my sister get friends?”

Uncle Carrot chuckles good-naturedly and added, “Maybe she didn’t. When I called, Ig noted that they were planning the company picnic around this time. That’s probably who it is.”

“Figures.”

We pull up to the house just in time to see Dad pop out of the house carrying a monster-size cooler in those muscular arms of his. It’s always interesting seeing the contrast between the two father figures in my life. Uncle Carrot is wiry and, aside from strong forearms from constantly kneading dough, he’s fairly average in build. Dad, on the other hand, looks like an action movie star who decided to retire and take up the sylvan life; between his graying hair, those looks that remind me of Smoldering Smile when he starred in Star Trek, and that rock-hard (pun intended) physique from a life worked lifting boulders. As for their personalities, that’s a contrast as well: I know I got my somewhat agnosticism from Uncle Carrot and his ways; his family have never really been believers, though they say that God’s out there somewhere. Contrast that to my father’s own faith: though Maud’s told me she doesn’t recall the family ever going to church, one look at our house makes it clear they’re a God-fearing family. And that’s fine; I’m not going to say it’s not me, because I’m not 100% sure where my own thoughts are in the matter, but that’s not the point. The point is that in a sense, I’ve got two fathers: Dad’s nature against Uncle Carrot’s nurture, and I would hate to be in a situation where I had to choose between either.

We get out of the van just in time for Uncle Carrot to call out, “Hey, Ig, you throw a party and not invite us, man?”

Dad stops and gives us all a lazy smile. “Hey, you guys got here early!” he laughs and I feel at ease again. If I lived here, I figure I’d be a daddy’s girl for sure. Sure enough, in turn he greets us all, saving his best for last, namely me. He picks me up as if I was a little girl, swinging me around. “Hey, precious. Missed you.”

I reach up and give him a kiss on his cheek as he sets me down. Dad’s probably about the same height as Ms. Celestia, and she’s pretty tall for a woman – I wonder if she played basketball in high school? “Hi, Dad,” I tell him, glad to be back on the ground again.

“Seriously, though, I wasn’t expecting to….” He pauses as if a thought crosses his face, and already I know what he’s going to say…and if it weren’t for the fact that my aunt and uncle were here, I’d be screwed. “I’m guessing the issues in Canterlot are too much right now?”

“Actually, it’s Pinkie’s spring break,” my aunt interjects, “but we needed the vacation anyway, and besides, admittedly, yeah, it is a bit much out in town right now.”

Dad looks at me directly. “You weren’t involved, were you?”

I want to lie. I so very much want to lie. I’ve already lied to my aunt and uncle, via omission. But this is different. And what am I supposed to say, anyway? “Daddy, your little girl is a whore now?” “Daddy, your girl got gangraped by several guys she knew not to mention her boyfriend and then by the sister of said boyfriend?”

And then there’s that little realization I had, one I haven’t really told anyone at all. I suspect Rares knows, but we just relatively recently rekindled our friendship, and I don’t know what to say and I don’t know what to do.

Fortunately, Auntie Cup to the rescue. “Igneous, she’s fine,” she says to him, putting an arm around me. “I’d let you guys know if something did happen. But a few of her friends were impacted and that has an effect on a girl, you know?”

To my relief, he doesn’t pry further. “Just don’t tell Quartz about it,” he sighs and looks at us, then to me directly. “Pinkamena, you need to understand: your mother’s been working herself into a tizzy fit ever since she heard about what happened out there in your neck of the woods, and at one point I practically had to stop her from flying over to Canterlot and bringing you back. You can thank your sister for talking sense into her – Maud was here two weeks ago and managed to calm her down.”

I do a mental back-flip. Have I mentioned how much I idolize my older sister? Honestly, I wish I could be as outgoing and forward as she is.

So as my aunt and uncle excuse themselves to go get their stuff settled into the guest room, I accompany my dad. “What’s the shindig?” I ask. “And where’s Inkie and Blinkie?”

Dad smiled at my private nickname for them. “They also have spring break this week as well. Marble and her friend went down to Texas for the week with her friend’s parents. And as for Limestone, she’s camping with her girl scout troop on the far side of Beaver Lake this week. Sorry to say, you probably won’t see them this time around.”

My smile falls a little at that. I love my younger sisters, too, even though they’re unknown quantities as far as I know. I mean, Blinkie kinda reminds me of Fluttershy a little? And Inkie’s a bit kinda sorta like AJ, but not quite. I mean, it’d be nice if I could figure them out more, but that would mean I would have to actually live here and oh hell no.

“Now,” continuing his commentary, “this is the annual company picnic I throw for my employees. Although, truth be told, it’s more of a regional gathering of sorts. Most of them are quarryworkers, but quite a few of them are just neighbors. I’m sure you’ll probably get to know more than a few of them in time, right?”

A few minutes later, I’m both mingling with the locals and studiously trying to avoid my mother. I mean, last time we talked, we left on good terms, and I’d hate to see that fucked up again. Then again, it’s my mom. I love her dearly, but I know the woman – she’s a bigot and religiously intolerant. She and Auntie Cup are the mirror of me and Maud in that, well, I love Maud, and Maud loves me. And as for Mom and Auntie Cup…let’s just say that I probably learned most of my four-letter words from overhearing some of their conversations.

Most of the people present are surprised that I’m the daughter of Igneous and Quartz – I really don’t act like them, people point out, and I really don’t look like them either, as Dad always says I look like my grandmother, Surprise, plus, I’m almost never here. In hindsight, I suppose it’s just obvious that the locals always thought that there were only three Pie daughters. I’m really not sure how to react to that, but it’s not like it was meant to be insulting, so I let it pass.

Makes me wonder about my counterpart – the one Sunny hasn’t told me about. If my guess is right (as well as the physical properties of quantum physics, which I’d have to do a bit more research on), she’s either someone – somehorsie? – that Sunny grew up with or maybe Princess Twilight knows. I wish I had a way of asking Twi, but maybe that would be a bit gauche?

Dad waves over to me and standing next to him is an elegant looking woman who seems out of place despite her jeans and her polo shirt. Next to her is a girl around my age, and there’s something about her that reminds me a little of Rarity during the time when we weren’t speaking, not sure why. But I go play the dutiful daughter and join my dad.

“Pinkie, I’d like you to meet our new neighbors, Princess Amore and her daughter Radiant Hope. Prin, this is my second daughter, Pinkie. She lives with my sister-in-law and her husband out in California.”

The name is instantly recognizable to me, thanks to both Rares’ and Flutters’ reading habits. “Princess Amore? By any chance, would you be the author of the Vive Libre ou Morir series?”

To my surprise, the woman nodded. “You’re familiar with my novels? I didn’t think girls your age were into WWII action/romance,” she told me.

With an awkward smile, I had to admit, “Well, I’m more of a sci-fi fan, to be honest. But two of my friends back home are avid readers. Rarity, in particular, loves The Milice Francaise and the Stolen Francs, especially the way where Sur-Vayre was trying to seduce Sur-Glaine, but the latter loved her country too much to surrender to the Nazi turncoat, even though the desire was there.”

Whoops! I may have read a little more than I let on, and the critical look Mrs. Amore is giving me makes it clear she knows, too.

“A bit too much detail for not being ‘one of my fans’, I think,” she says with a laugh.

I blush at my error. “Okay, I did read that one because Rarity insisted,” I admit.

“It’s okay,” she assures me. “Truthfully, I prefer The Lord of the Rings over romance novels, myself. Anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And this is my own daughter, Radiant Hope.”

As I offer a hand to Radiant Hope, I get the distinct feeling someone isn’t here because they want to be. That’s confirmed a second later when Mrs. Amore all but shoves her daughter practically right in front of my face. “Hi,” she says, reluctantly shaking my hand.

“Hi yourself. I’m Pinkie,” I reminder her.

“Radiant Hope. You can just call me Hope,” she says. “So, you’re from California, huh?”

“Uh, northern Cali,” I tell her. “You’d be surprised how many people think ‘California’ means either Frisco or LA.”

“Yeah, I get that – we just moved here from New York, but that’s New York state: Rochester, not Manhattan, y’know?”

“Oh, do I. You live in a relatively small place and everyone thinks you’re from the big city.”

I got her to giggle. “Yeah, no shit. So, you in town for a while?”

So, hours later, Hope and I are sitting around the bonfire, eating the last of the venison burgers – “Bambi Macs”, she called them, and I couldn’t help but laugh, though I hope Flutters never hears that – and generally joking.

“And so, Fruity tripped over the pencil and dropped the whole solution on Mrs. Tube’s shirt!” She was laughing hard, and honestly, so was I. Though I didn’t know her circle of friends, it felt good to see someone laugh aloud. Twi told me once that I had something around me regarding laughter and while I try to provide happiness and joy for my friends, more often I never feel like I have any for myself.

Still, being around Hope, it’s infectious, and I notice things about her. She carries herself much like Sunny or Rainbow. She’s well-read like Twily, and she plays instruments, similar to Tavi. She’s also got a build like Sunny’s, and I kinda blush inwardly. I really don’t need that right now, much less for Hope to misunderstand.

Sure enough, she does. “I take it you like what you see?” she asks me from across the fire. I say nothing; my mouth has gotten me in trouble before, and I’m at Ground Zero for All-Time Mistakes if I do the wrong thing – I’m not sure my aunt and uncle could save me from whatever my mother would do.

“I…”

“Oh, please, I’m not stupid, Pinkie.” She gets up and sits down next to me. A lot more next to me, more than I’m kinda comfortable with, to be honest. She runs a finger across my face and then my lips. “You know, you look a little like Tiramisu, my ex. Oh, she had the body that could last all. Night. Long.” She got very close. “I suggest we get to know each other a little better, you know, like what I can do to make you feel good.”

I move her hand back – I won’t ever be touched like that, not by anyone, unless I want it! “You have me read wrong, Hope,” I tell her, fighting back my anger and disgust. I don’t want to take it out on her. She wasn’t the one that caused my pain. She’s not Cicely. And if there is a God, she’s definitely not like her, either.

And thankfully, she backs off. “Okay, okay, I get it, sorry. Just…I’m the kind of girl that knows what I like, and you were sending signals, okay?”

I shook my head. “No. I wasn’t. I…appreciate that you find me attractive, but…no, sorry.” And this just went into awkward as hell city. “Look, I’ve had a long flight and a long day, so I’m going to go get some sleep, okay?”

I watch her rub the back of her head and I wonder if I’ll see her again. “Yeah, okay, so…look, friends?”

I hope so. I offer my hand again. “Sure,” and she shakes much easier this time. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure,” I tell her and reach for the water pail to put out the rest of the fire.

“Look, Pinkie….”

“Hey, it’s okay, I get it. Maybe I just send out signals unintentionally – happens, right?”

She doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe. Anyway, see you tomorrow.”

She waves and I walk off while I pour the pail of water over the flames, hearing the sizzle and watching the gray tendrils of smoke escape into the sky. When I turn around, she’s well gone and I walk over to the farm house. Waiting there, no surprise, is my mother. I look at her and she looks at me and I instantly know that this is going to be one of those conversations.

“You didn’t pay your respects, Pinkamena,” she told me simply.

I shrug, figure it was better than any of the retorts I was already planning. “I figured I’d run into you sooner or later, Mom,” I tell her. “Dad was the one that decided to introduce me to several of the workers and neighbors. They were surprised to find out that you had a fourth daughter.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” she said coldly and I wonder what kind of fight she and Auntie Cup had. While it’d be hell choosing between Dad and Uncle Carrot, there’s pretty much no contest when it comes to Mom and Auntie Cup. Don’t get me wrong; I love my mother. But it’s also hard to love someone you know gives lip service to your life.

“Mom, if this is going to be another one of those discussions why I’m more like Auntie Cup than you—”

“No; I’ve already had that argument with my sister,” she tells me. “Just…you make it hard, Pinkamena. I’m the one that gave birth to you and you treat me more like a distant relative than the vessel through which God gave you life.”

“I recall reading something about respect or something in the Bible, once,” I comment, thinking about it. I’ve actually read the Bible, as part of my literature class. Also read the Koran, the Nihon Shiki and the Bardo Thodol – that’s the Tibetan Book of the Dead, if you’re into that sort of stuff.

Hey, I like keeping up on esoteric subjects. Helps in case of esoteric subject emergencies.

“I don’t think you should be out late at night,” she tells me, changing the subject. “And I’m not sure that you should be friends with that Radiant Hope character. She’s got the markings of a sybarite, if you ask me.”

“You mean a lesbian?” I ask, and I see my mom blanche. “Amazing you still have problems with that word,” I observe. And mind, it’s just an observation. Probably the wrong time to make one, but then again, when it comes to my mom, is there ever a right time?

“That is not a word you should be saying.”

“Mom, I’m a teenager and I live in California,” I remind her. “I’ve heard much worse and I’ve said much worse. Whether or not you approve is immaterial, though I’ll keep that in mind. The point is that Matthew 7 applies: ‘judge not lest ye be judged’. What Hope does or does not is hers and her mother’s business, not mine and not yours. As an upstanding member of the community, you should remember that, right?” My mom is slack-jawed at my comment, but I didn’t exactly say anything wrong, per se.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say as walk past her. But just to be on the safe side, I pause to kiss her on the cheek. “We might disagree on well, everything, Mom, but I do love you, okay? Night.” She doesn’t say anything as I walk up the stairs towards Marble’s room. With my aunt and uncle in the guest room – formerly Maud’s room – that leaves me in my kid sister’s.

But as I reach the top of the stairs, I see my aunt standing there, waiting for me. “I know what you’re going to say, Auntie,” I tell her, “and yeah, I agree.”

Auntie Cup smiles. “Well, that makes it much easier for me, then. Pinkie, she’s just being a mom. I get that way sometimes with you, and you know I’m going to be that way with the twins when they’re your age.”

“I know,” I admit, “and that’s why I have the greatest aunt in the world.” I give her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Night!”

“Good night, Pinkie,” she tells me as I slip into the bedroom.

I make my way towards the bed, and my bag. I reach over and pluck my charger out of the bag – roaming does a number on the phone’s battery – and let it charge for the night. Looking at the screen, I note that it got down to three percent charge – the CHARGE ME NOW! alert prominently displayed until I tap it away – and that could be bad if my friends are trying to send me something.

I take the time to change into my sleepwear and put away my dirty laundry, when my phone chimes. I look at the notification display, and my heart suddenly swims with joy.

Hey, Pinkie, Tavi and I are in LA! Let me know if you need anything from here and we’ll get it. Miss ya and wish you were here!

I text back something, trying to hold the phone and not fumble my answer.

Greetings from the middle of nowhere! I’ll send you a long, looooooong list, because I could use a few things! Miss you too and hope I’ll hear from you later in the week! XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO and I’m running out of emoji!

The image of three dots appeared below my message indicating Sunny was texting me a reply! Yay! And after a few seconds that felt like the better part of an eternity, her new message chimed in, and I dived right in.

XD That’s you to a tee, Pinks! There’s this gourmet chocolate place down the street from our hotel. I know I’m going to get you some, but just wanted to see if there was anything else you wanted. Anyway, you have the whole week, so don’t forget to text!

I hammer out another quick response.

You neither! Night!

I set the phone down, the widest smile on my face since I got here. I don’t think I’ve told my friends this, but if it wasn’t for Sunny, I wouldn’t be alive. I feel embarrassed to admit it, but after everything I went through, I wanted to end it. End it all. I went to sleep earlier because I saw a little girl with the same shade of hair I have, and…it tore me apart.

The child I’ll never have, because I destroyed him or her. The sin I’ll forever live with.

“I want to die.” It’s a mantra I’d repeated for so long to myself, especially when being bullied by someone so, well, capable of it as Sunny was. And then when she mutated into that…thing…and an alien princess gave us powers that to this day I’m not sure I understand, we ended Sunset’s reign. And I said something that I’ll always regret. My strike two in the baseball game of life, if you will.

Thankfully, Twi was a better person than I was at the time – and that’s saying a lot, given that she’s not really human. And she appealed to my better angels and won me over. Reluctantly, but she won me over. She saw something in the flame-haired bully that I sure as hell didn’t see then, and truth be told, didn’t want to see.

But then Sunset changed and she became my friend. Moreso, she changed because she wanted to change, not because she was forced to. And that gave me the courage to talk to the girls I’d rekindled my friendship with and tell them the truth.

All these months Rarity and the others have helped me get through it, day by day, step by step. Talking to me when I need it. Hugs when there are no words that could truly express. And love when I so desperately needed that, like an anchor. I love them, my friends. They’re more than friends to me, they’re the sisters from another mister, meaning the world to me just as much as Maud, Inkie and Blinkie.

Even still, I haven’t told them everything, though, because I’m not sure I’ve worked out everything for myself.

I do know this much, though: Sunset Shimmer is my friend now, a dearest friend of mine. I wanted her dead, and she gave me life instead. And she continues to do so every day since.

I reach into the bag and pull out the Bluetooth speakers that go with my phone and link them up. Then I throw on a little Thundercat – man’s got some seriously awesome tunes, and Apocalypse is an awesome album – and climb into bed, planning to sleep.

Tomorrow’s another day, after all.

Author's Note

Well, here we go. This story had to be done, because, well, It's a pivotal one in the 7DSJ (and larger Berylverse) canon. It's gone through several incarnations and this is just the latest.

It's also a part of a three-part Pinkie Trilogy within the Berylverse.