A History Class Field Trip
Apple Bloom leaned her head heavily on one hoof. She waited for Scootaloo to finish shaking moisture from her feathers at the doorway of their clubhouse so that the meeting could begin.
Sweetie Belle sat next to her, brushing at the last couple of damp patches of her coat. She asked, “Didn’t you find any of it interesting?”
Apple Bloom considered for a second, “Well, it was kinda strange to see the Golden Oak Library again. But Granny’s told me interestin’ stories about life in old Ponyville before.”
“Wasn’t it amazing to see it for yourself?
Apple Bloom shrugged. “‘Amazing’ isn’t the word Ah’d use for only goin’ fifteen years back. Ah don’t reckon we got to see any of the good bits of Ponyville history we didn’t see already. Apparently, one time, a whole buncha mimes came to town…” she trailed off.
“And? What did they do?” Sweetie prompted.
“And then Mac needed me to help wrassle the pigs while he fixed some of their fence. Ah dunno what happened next and when Ah asked Granny later she said Ah was ‘too young to be askin’ about that sort of thing’.”
“Oh,” Sweetie sounded disappointed.
“So, seeing how the town was before we started school was okay, Ah guess. But it just wasn’t – y’know – excitin’ as Ah’d hoped,” she slouched slightly more.
Scootaloo trotted up behind the small podium which the crusaders took turns to use to chair meetings. She tapped a hoof on it a few times and called them to order.
“Fellow crusaders,” she began. “Would you say, after today’s history field trip to effectively-last-thursday, that time travel might be boring?”
Apple Bloom nodded vigorously and after a few seconds Sweetie made a tipping so-so motion with a hoof before commenting, “Well, I mean, that was probably Twilight’s plan. To get us to stop pestering her about trying it out ourselves. Make it seem not worth the bother.”
Scootaloo grinned, casually buffed a hoof on her chest and continued.
“Well, then it’s a good thing one of us had a different plan.”
The other crusaders looked at her with surprise.
“Different?” Sweetie asked.
Scootaloo nodded and waved a hoof in the direction of the table against the far wall, then looped a wing under her still-damp saddlebags.
“I’ve got something to show you. I needed a few minutes to go pick it up, which is why I was late, but I think you’re going to like it.”
Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes slightly, “Y’didn’t bring somethin’ back from the past, did ya?”
Sweetie gasped.
“We were told not to do that! Twilight said–”
“I remember what Twilight said about ‘souvenirs’,” Scootaloo waved her friends off, “I didn’t do that.”
“So, what did ya do?” Apple Bloom asked accusingly.
“You mean, ‘how much trouble are we in’?” Scootaloo sighed, grabbed her bags and joined her friends at the table. “Probably some,” she admitted. “But that hasn’t stopped us before, and I’m pretty convinced this is worth it.”
Scootaloo reached into her bag, grabbed something like a small postcard and dropped it on the table.
“Viola!” She grinned.
“Voila?” Sweetie asked.
“That. Sure.”
Apple Bloom gave the plastic card an appraising look.
“It’s… not bad?” she offered. “What’s it got to do with anythin’?”
“Not bad?”
“Yeah, Ah mean, it’s fairly convincin’,” she picked it up and tipped it slightly. She nodded and made an approving hum as a holographic rainbow pattern played across one corner, “Ah guess.”
“Fairly con– Apple Bloom, it’s real.”
“Real expensive?” Apple Bloom smirked slightly and set the card down. “Fake ID that fancy must’ve been. Honestly, Ah don’t think Ah’ve seen better. And Ah’ve gotten some from a few places now. Never been good enough to be of a whole lotta use though.”
Sweetie Belle lifted the card in a pale green aura, floated it over for a closer inspection. Flipped it to look at the back. Sniffed it once. Said, “Um…” and looked back and forth between it and Scootaloo. Then she lined the card up in front of her orange friend and squinted through the translucent headshot of an orange pegasus which occupied almost half the card. She said, “Um,” again.
“Yup,” Scootaloo said, while grinning at Sweetie.
“Whadda you mean, ‘yup’?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Um…” Sweetie said again.
“It’s just fake ID, what’s with that weird look?” Apple Bloom cast an inquiring gaze across each of the other ponies in turn.
Scootaloo just kept smiling smugly. Sweetie took a moment before she answered, “I think – it might not be.”
Apple Bloom chuckled lightly, “Well it’s not a library card. It’s got a see-through picture; only the new ID cards they started makin’ after the changelings went and gatecrashed Princess Cadence’s weddin’ have that. ‘S part of why good fakes are so hard to make.”
“I meant… I think it might not be fake. It smells right.”
Apple Bloom fixed her with an incredulous look.
“Of course it’s a fake. Scoots is too young for real ID. But the name bit says ‘Scootaloo’ and that–” she pointed at a corner of the card, “is definitely her cutie mark. With the fancy rainbow effect. The picture even looks just like her – like she looks today, right now. It’s a really good forgery, Ah admit. Ah can’t see anythin’ much wrong with it apart from the… date…” she trailed off.
Scootaloo shook her head vigorously and said, “I think you’ll find that everything is correct. I picked it up, freshly minted from the official records, not even an hour ago.”
“From official–” Apple Bloom’s eyes went wide as she made the connection. “Y’can’t be serious?”
Scootaloo nodded, “We were in the town hall for quite a while. I owe Rumble a favour for ‘accidentally’ knocking that display stand over. Then all I had to do was slip around past the main desk, drop a piece of paper in the right tray and quickly fill in a ‘correction request’ form.”
Sweetie gasped, “You changed when your birthday is!”
“Almost. Not quite. I registered my own birth a few years earlier than usual. But that doesn’t actually change the birthday I had already. I have two now.”
“How even does that?”
“What.”
Scootaloo buzzed with pride as she explained, “I left my birth certificate behind, in the past. And quickly filled in some paperwork to get the ‘obvious mistake with the date’ on it ‘fixed’. I didn’t do anything else to it because I needed to have it not draw attention.
“I also got a proper copy made before I ‘borrowed’ the original. Which hasn’t changed. So now I have two official birth certificates. And they’re both real and they’re both me. Good enough to use to get an ID card minted. So I actually sorta have two birthdays now. Officially. Until somepony realises and finds a way to cancel one of them.”
“That,” Apple Bloom said, “is–”
Sweetie interrupted, “Really clever!”
“Probably goin’ to get you in lots of trouble,” Apple Bloom finished.
“Trouble? Maybe. I think it’s going to be worth it though,” Scootaloo smirked, took the card and dropped it back into her bags. She looked out of the window at the final drops of rain falling from patchy light-grey clouds. She said, “Meeting adjourned,” then started towards the door.
“Adj–” Apple Bloom stepped past her to block the exit, “But, we haven’t even started! We can’t just end the meeting straight away.”
“Not ending, just moving.”
“Move?” Sweetie pouted, “But I only just got properly dry! I’d rather we stay here, please.”
“Oh?” Scootaloo asked with obviously feigned innocence, “Does that mean you don’t want to come to the Prancing Pegasus with me?”
Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle looked at each other, then back to Scootaloo. Scootaloo gave them a second for the implication to sink all the way in. Grinned an affirmation. Nervous but excited smiles starting to form on her friends faces.
“Maybe you need a little more convincing?” she asked, playfully.
Scootaloo shuffled her bags; they emitted the tell-tale jingling noise of loose bits. She made her friends an offer they couldn’t refuse:
“I’m buying!”
Sweetie Belle tipped back and forth a couple of times on a loose-topped bar stool, before settling to one side. She looked at Apple Bloom with an apprehensive little smile. Apple Bloom winked back, leant a hoof on the bar.
Scootaloo simply watched the barmare; she was waiting to catch her attention until after she finished serving a unicorn – buying a round for a group who vaguely straddled the border between ‘merry’ and ‘rowdy’.
The Pegasus was pretty busy, as usual, but the crusaders were happy to wait their turn. They’d been in before a few times, for food (with soft drinks). But they’d always been escorted by a responsible pony. Or, on one occasion, Rainbow Dash. What made this time special however was that they were at the bar.
Apple Bloom leaned over to Scootaloo, whispered, “Ah’m not sure this is goin’ to work.”
“Have a little faith.”
Scootaloo flagged down the barmare, flashed her a smile, “Three drinks please.”
The barmare looked Scootaloo up and down, “Drinks?” she asked.
“Beers,” Scootaloo tapped a hoof on the bar top, next to her one-hundred percent valid ID and a small stack of bits. “Please.”
“Uh-huh,” the barmare took a quick look at the ID, then swung her gaze across the other crusaders. “You girls have ID too?”
“Okay, that was stupid of me,” Scootaloo sighed.
The crusaders trotted slowly away from the Pegasus, Apple Bloom in the lead. Scootaloo sighed and Sweetie gave her a gentle reassuring shoulder bump.
“It’s fine,” Apple Bloom said over her withers, “we know the first time we try somethin’ it pretty much never works anyway.”
“Yeah, but…” Scootaloo trailed off.
Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle navigated around a large puddle left after the earlier rain shower. Scootaloo paused to eye it up, took a step back and then cleared it with a wing-assisted jump.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sweetie added, “it would be a shame to have a plan ‘B’ and then never get to try it out.”
“There’s a plan ‘B’?”
“Plans ‘C’ and ‘D’ too,” Apple Bloom said, nodding to herself.
“Oh. Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys,” Scootaloo huffed.
“Don’t take it personal. We all know how this goes by now.”
Scootaloo disagreed, “Not me! I thought that was going to work.”
“It probably would have if you were alone,” Sweetie admitted.
“Well, excuse me for wanting to do something nice for my friends.”
Apple Bloom stopped and turned to face Scootaloo, giving her a confused look.
“Sorry,” Scootaloo mumbled, “I’m just frustrated. I thought I’d really got this all worked out, but at the last jump I just... tripped and somehow got covered in tree sap.”
“You got nothin’ to apologise for,” Apple Bloom said. “We shoulda realised that would happen, it’s not your fault. And we really do appreciate the thought and work you’ve put into this. ‘M sorry if we didn’t seem to.”
“Yeah, we just don’t want to waste the opportunity you’ve created,” Sweetie chipped in. “But I’ve got an idea!”
“Plan ‘B’?”
“‘B’ stands for ‘Bet it doesn’t work either’,” Sweetie grinned and winked at Scootaloo.
“‘But we want to try anyway’,” added Apple Bloom after a second.
Scootaloo brightened up slightly, chuckled, looked at Apple Bloom; she smiled reassuringly back.
“Okay. Plan ‘D’ though. Really?”
“‘D’ is for ‘Don’t ask’,” Apple Bloom said flatly, “Ah’m saving it for last for a reason”.
“All right. Let’s go see what Sweetie’s idea involves then.”
The stallion restocking a shelf of hard cider near the front of one of Ponyville’s few single-speciality shops took one look at Scootaloo as she entered and said, “You, back outside.”
“What? But I have–”
“Don’t care what ya have, get out.”
Shocked, she frowned at him, “Hey, that’s not how you’re supposed to treat customers.”
“Well,” he countered with a hard look, “Since yer turning and walking right back outside without buying anything, yer not a customer. So I think I can treat ya any way I want.”
Scootaloo simply stood there, undecided which to feel more: confused or offended.
The stallion softened his expression only slightly, made a shooing gesture at her, “Don’t cause me trouble, kid. Y’know ya can’t buy anything here. Come back in five years.”
“Five years? I don’t look that young!”
“Take it as a compliment?” Sweetie suggested. “Rarity likes it when stallions say she looks younger than she is.”
“Rarity is old,” Scootaloo waved a hoof dismissively, “I’ll be actually old enough to buy alcohol in less than ten moons. He was a jerk and what am I going to do to buy some if I can’t even go inside?”
“Don’t worry,” Apple Bloom gave the store a hard stare, “Ah’ll set Applejack on him later. She’ll teach him about ‘customer relations’.”
Sweetie gave her a sideways look, “Is that supposed to be a threat? I don’t get it…”
“It means that if this place wants to keep sellin’ Sweet Apple Cider they’ll be nicer to you in future,” Apple Bloom blinked and took her focus from the shop. “Ah can’t do that right now, of course. Best if AJ doesn’t find out about what we’re trying to do.”
Scootaloo nodded.
“Hmm,” Sweetie rubbed a hoof on her chin, “actually I think I can still make this work. Maybe. Before we try your idea, Apple Bloom.”
Apple Bloom shrugged, “I don’t mind. You want to give it a second shot, Scoots?”
“Uhm, I guess? What do I do differently though?”
Sweetie replied, “We need to visit my sister’s place. I need supplies.”
“Huh,” Scootaloo looked appraisingly at her reflection, “I’d never really thought about wearing makeup. Like, ordinary makeup.”
“You look pretty. And a little bit older.”
“I actually do…” Scootaloo turned to view a different angle. “Forty minutes though, it seems like a lot of time to spend, especially on a regular basis. And I don’t have the magic to apply it.”
“Rarity only takes about twenty-five, but she has more practice than I do.”
“Still, I might have to get you to do this again sometime, it’s kinda nice.”
“Well,” Sweetie blushed lightly, “I mean, I don’t mind helping you look your best.”
“You almost done?” Apple Bloom asked from the doorway, “Ah think Ah found the coat you meant, Sweetie.”
She trotted in, took a folded article of heavy-looking clothing from her back and laid it out, “It looks far too big though…”
“Oh, it’s too big for one of us,” Sweetie nodded, picked up the coat.
“Okay, this time I don’t think this is going to work,” Scootaloo looked down at the top of Apple Bloom’s head.
“Not if you keep shifting like that,” Sweetie scolded her. “You need to stay looking mostly forward or you shift the way it hangs and then you do look weird. Otherwise I think you’ll pass – at a distance. Just don’t draw attention to yourself.”
Apple Bloom said from deep inside the trenchcoat, her voice muffled by the thick fabric, “Ya don’t think he’ll realise Scoots is the same pony?”
“Not until she’s at the register. And then you can just show him the card. He won’t have a reason to stop you after that.”
Scootaloo experimentally reached back to her saddlebags to retrieve her ID. The twisting ruined the lay of the trenchcoat even more badly than looking down at the pony she was balanced barrel-to-back on.
Sweetie made a slight hissing noise through her teeth, “Okay, you also can’t turn around like that.”
Scootaloo checked the front of the coat, “No pockets, typical.”
She rustled her wings beneath the coat, frowned, “Bah, can’t do that either. What sort of pegasus even wears a coat without wing-slits?”
“One who doesn’t own a trenchcoat, but is friends with a unicorn who is generously letting her borrow it.”
Scootaloo gave an exasperated sigh, “Well, I can’t reach my card. If I mouth-carry it I can’t actually pick up anything to buy.”
“Get something from behind the counter,” Apple Bloom suggested.
“That would work,” Sweetie nodded, “you can get out the bits to pay while he’s turned around.”
“A bottle of spirit is probably in character for the mysterious trenchcoat-wearing ‘Scootabloom’ too,” Apple Bloom said, then giggled beneath Scootaloo.
Scootaloo squirmed slightly, “Hey, knock it off, that tickles.”
“Sorry.”
“Here,” Sweetie levitated Scootaloo’s card out of the bags and held it in easy reach until Scootaloo snatched it.
“I think you’re all set,” Sweetie reached up and gave Scootaloo a ‘good-to-go’ pat on the flank.
Scootaloo made a grateful ‘mmn’ noise and looked at the entrance. After about thirty seconds of not moving from her spot, she wiggled a bit.
“Oh, Ah’m walking, aren’t I?” Apple Bloom said, still muffled by trenchcoat, “So, two taps for go, one for stop...”
“Mnm,” Scootaloo tapped out ‘goes’ and ‘stops’ in a few directions for practice – which Apple Bloom followed well enough – then set off.
Scootabloom made her way somewhat awkwardly to, and through, the door of the Ponyville off-license liquor store. The stallion staffing the place was occupied serving a slight, yellow-coated pony, also wearing a thick form-obscuring coat which almost hid a pink tail. Probably-Fluttershy had added glasses and a hat to her ‘disguise’ in an ill-fated attempt to add an extra touch of mystery to her identity.
A couple of unicorn mares, one blue, one yellow browsed the wine section.
“Sorry miss,” the stallion said, although his tone wasn’t very apologetic, “yer order hasn’t arrived yet.”
“But,” a soft voice responded, “it was supposed to be here the day before yesterday.”
“Nothing I can do. The whole shipment was delayed. There’s been some trouble with long-distance air freight recently.”
“Oh. That’s… disappointing. Do you know when it’s due now?”
He shrugged, “Could be another week.”
“…Could be?”
“Probably won’t be much more’n that. I’ve got other, pfft, single malts if ya need something in the meantime.”
“Need?” Definitely-Fluttershy slowly shook her head. “No, I can wait a week.”
“Sure,” the stallion scoffed. “Mail ordering half a case at once? I betcha can’t.”
He leaned in slightly, offering only the pretense of privacy, chuckled as though making a joke, “Ya want me to fetch you down a bottle of Griffonglen, just fer the road?”
“No, thankyou.”
“Maybe ya want to buy a real drink then? You know, I stock the finest drinking whiskey in the world. Made locally. Puts that fancy imported stuff to shame.”
Fluttershy paused for a few seconds before turning and simply walking away without saying another word to the stallion. Scootaloo bumped Apple Bloom to shift out of the way and she teetered to one side.
Fluttershy glanced in their direction only very briefly on the way out, turning to hide her face with an ‘eep’ noise when she realised she was being watched. She made no attempt to talk to Scootabloom. Didn’t seem to recognise her. Scootaloo thought she heard a softly mumbled, “Jerk,” as Fluttershy quickly passed them on the way out.
The stallion at the register didn’t pay Scootabloom much attention. He instead watched the yellow pony leave, snickering to himself. Then he gave a quick, cursory look around before focussing on the two unicorns who seemed to have given up on deciding between two bottles of wine, instead opting to buy both.
Scootabloom pottered to the opposite side of the shop from the unicorns, pretended to contemplate the selection of ales and lagers available.
The stallion finished serving his other customers, rudely. As they left, wearing confused frowns, he yelled after them, “Thanks fer taking some of that foreign garbage off my shelves!”
Scootabloom meandered over and dropped her card on the counter.
“Hey, missy,” he said, squinting at Scootaloo slightly. “You got a little sister?”
“No.”
“S’funny, I could swear… well, nev'rmind. What can I get ya?”
Scootaloo looked past him at the wall of bottles of various spirits, labels of mostly unfamiliar names stared back at her. She suddenly realised a rather large flaw in this whole plan.
The stallion smirked nefariously, “Too much choice, eh? I can make it easy fer ya,” he reached behind himself with a rear leg and, without turning or looking, plucked a black-labelled bottle of golden fluid from a shelf. He tossed it forwards and caught it with a fore-hoof before casually standing it in front of her. She looked at it.
“Seven?” she asked, reading the label out loud.
“Best thing I sell.”
Scootaloo didn’t know a lot about spirits but she did know Equestria’s most famously-mediocre bourbon – by name anyway. It would do though.
“Sure,” she said, “I’ll just…” she trailed off, trying to think of a way to get her bits without ruining her disguise.
“Oh?” the stallion made a head motion at the lower half of the trenchcoat, “Aren’t ya going to ask yer hooves if they’re okay with that too?”
Scootaloo froze. The stallion laughed, pulled the bottle well outside of her reach and carried on speaking.
“Y’know, I sorta admire yer moxie – showing right back up. Stupid, but committedly so. Wadda ya think, legs,” he addressed Apple Bloom through the coat, “How much of a head start should I give you two before I call the guard?”
Apple Bloom began shuffling backwards without Scootaloo prompting her. Scootaloo had to lean precariously forwards to snatch her ID card back off the counter, but the stallion didn’t try to stop her. He hadn’t even looked at the card.
The stallion casually said, “Ten.”
Scootabloom scrabbled out into the street before he finished saying "Eight."
“What a jerk!” Apple Bloom stamped.
“At least Fluttershy didn’t know it was us,” Scootaloo flopped backwards onto the plinth of one of Ponyville’s statues.
Sweetie paused in folding the trenchcoat up, “I thought that yellow pony looked familiar.”
“Wait, Fluttershy?” Apple Bloom looked at Scootaloo.
“Yeah. In disguise. Not a better one than ours either.”
“He was rude to Fluttershy?”
“Ugh,” Scootaloo flopped a foreleg about in the air, “he was rude to everypony. You heard. If you can’t get Applejack to kick his flank, I’ll ask Rainbow. I probably owe her a favour.”
Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow, “You mean ‘she owes you’?”
“No. Finding somepony Rainbow can beat up without getting in trouble is definitely a favour for her.”
“I think,” Sweetie finished folding, “she might still get in trouble.”
“Not enough that she’d care though. Not if he’s messing with Fluttershy.”
Apple Bloom considered for a moment, “Think she’d trade for buying us some beers?”
Scootaloo snorted, “I wish.”
“So,” Sweetie said, “plan ‘B’ was a bust. Your turn, Apple Bloom.”
Scootaloo trotted up to the bar of the High Spirits inn and fluttered up onto a stool. She leaned a hoof on the bar. Then she peeled it back off and stuck her tongue out as she wiped some sticky residue onto the edge of her seat.
She glanced back over her withers towards the table in the far corner, where Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle sat; they had her backs to her. They were sitting up very straight to – hopefully – make themselves appear taller.
She waved at the purplish earth pony tending the bar, but they were distractedly wiping a glass with a rag and listening to a grey mare complain about something to do with ‘a serious lack of mid-tones’.
Scootaloo sighed and looked around, taking in the room. It wasn’t as busy as the Prancing Pegasus and the patrons seemed quieter, more subdued. A faint aroma of smoke hung in the air. She didn’t think the place was unpleasant, but it didn’t seem as nice as her first choice.
Importantly, there was no third option. The Pegasus was the Ponyville public house – everypony knew that – and the Spirits was… well it was the other place that alcohol without a lid.
Lost in thought, wondering what the true significance of that knowledge was, Scootaloo didn’t pay much attention when a pony sat next to her. The barmare was still lending an ear and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to move.
At least the plan here was simple and not much could actually go wrong; just buy a round – without her friends at her actual sides. She faintly wondered how long she’d have to wait for service. It seemed rude (or maybe unwise) to just interrupt the grey pony when they were, with increasing volume, unburdening their troubles on the barmare.
The pony next to Scootaloo shifted slightly on their stool, and then casually annihilated Scootaloo’s train of thought.
“So, what’s a good young filly like you doing in a place like this?”
Scootaloo spun and stared, mouth open with horror, at her Aunt Lofty.
“Was that actually as painful to live through as it was to watch?” Apple Bloom asked, trying to prise any response from Scootaloo – who had kept her mouth shut and her eyes resolutely on the ground since she’d been escorted off the premises.
“Apple Bloom!” Sweetie Belle nudged her yellow friend hard. “Rude.”
“Ah didn’t mean it like that,” Apple Bloom protested.
Sweetie let out a resigned sigh.
They walked a little further, Scootaloo made a sharp right turn towards a side street that led back to her home.
“It’s okay,” Sweetie said, skipping to keep up, “you don’t have to talk about it.”
“Good,” mumbled Scootaloo, “‘cause I don’t want to.”
Apple Bloom said, “We would have distracted her for you, if we’d seen her coming. Y’know that, right?”
“Yeah.”
They moved off the main road and Scootaloo immediately perked up.
“Okay,” she said, “we should be out of view now. I had to keep up the ‘scolded filly’ act until I was sure.”
Sweetie stared with surprise at Scootaloo.
“We didn’t really catch much of what your aunt said,” Apple Bloom pressed for information, “Just the yelling. How bad is it? How did you get out of being dragged home by your feathers?”
Sweetie shoved her again.
“Eh,” Scootaloo said, “I’m grounded – of course. But Aunt Lofty is meeting somepony and can’t take me home now or she’d miss them, so I’m on my own recognisance for an hour or two.”
“Recog–what?”
“Filly-scout’s honour,” Sweetie supplied.
“As long as I’m home soonish I’ll be fine.”
“And, being grounded?”
“Pfft,” Scootaloo waved a dismissive hoof, “I was already grounded. Throw another week on the end. Getting chewed out is the worst bit. I’ve probably got more of that to look forward to as well,” she sighed, “I didn’t tell her about my card, so I still have it. What’s plan ‘D’?”
“Uh–”
“I don’t have long, can we fit it in the next thirty minutes?”
Sweetie Belle looped a foreleg over Scootaloo’s withers in a hug and tried to offer her commiserations on the failure of plan ‘D’.
Scootaloo said, “I didn’t even know that a pony could have a phobia of juniper bushes. Poor Ruby.”
“We left her a ladder. She’ll come down at some point.”
“And I should have dodged under Miss Cheerilee instead of jumping over her.”
“Manes grow back.”
“We really should have asked what the ‘D’ was for.”
“Yeah… Well, at least we found out that your card worked at the carriage rental place. Maybe we can find something else to use it for?”
Scootaloo asked, “Like what – go join the guard? Register to run for mayor?” she shook her head, “I just wanted to buy something to drink. I’m just thirsty.
“Like, one drink would be just fine. I’m not even talking about getting drunk. I just wanted to have something instead of cider for once.”
She sighed and looked down at her foreleg, brushed at a damp spot, “Plus, I really, really thought we’d gotten past the whole ‘covered in tree sap’ phase. How can this still be a thing?”
Sweetie carefully unhooked her leg and checked her side for sticky patches.
“I thought you said you got it all off?”
“I did. I’ve had enough practice – believe me.”
They sat for a while in companionable silence on Scootaloo’s bed. Technically she wasn’t supposed to have friends over whilst grounded. The other crusaders had never asked why they often met at her window and came in that way.
There was a saying that went: “A friend will help you dig a hole; A good friend will help you bury something in it afterwards.” Well, a smart friend also knew the value of ‘plausible deniability’.
“Stupid thing,” Scootaloo glared at her ID card, laying on the floor where she’d thrown it in annoyance, “I guess you’re not going to be of much use unless we take the train up to Canterlot or something.”
“How about,” Sweetie said, “we get one of those movies from the top shelf of the movie reel rental place? With the kissing ponies on the label. There’s got to be some reason they’re age restricted.”
“I’m not interested in watching some sappy romance movie,” Scootaloo dismissed the suggestion, “You think AB will be much longer?”
“No. Your aunt was telling you off for quite a long time. I snuck in to use the little fillies room and she didn't even notice.”
Scootaloo flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes.
“Hey,” Sweetie said, “I’m sorry.”
“Hmm? What for?”
“I just realised: I owe you, like, seven birthday presents.”
Scootaloo furrowed her brow.
“Uhm?”
“For all the other birthdays you have now. I never gave you any presents for them.”
Scootaloo chuckled at the attempt to lighten her mood, “Did you read how old I am? You’ve missed more than seven,” she opened an eye and winked with it.
“Well, yeah, but the ones before we met don’t count!”
“I suppose not… Well, luckily for you, my birthdays are on the same date as each other. So at least you didn’t miss any of my parties.”
“Ooh, that would have been awful of me. I’m glad I didn’t. Wait, you didn’t change the date?”
“Nah, just the year. I tried not to leave obvious clues.”
There was a gentle tap at the window. Sweetie got up to answer it.
“Well we should definitely throw you two simultaneous parties this year,” Sweetie said. “Do you think Pinkie Pie would mind?”
She opened the window. Apple Bloom greeted them and then gently hoisted a small keg up onto the windowsill.
“More importantly,” Scootaloo asked, “can we convince Pinkie Pie to order in a barrel, or two, of beer?” She waved a hoof at the window and Apple Bloom, “We’ll both be old enough then.”
“Maybe. Probably,” Apple Bloom said, picking up roughly where the conversation was. She jumped up beside the keg and hopped down into Scootaloo’s room, “The tricky part will be distractin’ her while we pour Sweetie Belle her share.”
“I hate being the youngest,” Sweetie complained softly.
“So, cider again?” Scootaloo sighed as she glanced at the small barrel on the windowsill, making no effort to shift herself from her place on the bed.
“Ah like cider,” Apple Bloom pointed out.
“We all do. It’s just–”
Apple Bloom interrupted Scootaloo, “But this here – don’t tell AJ – ain’t quite cider.”
Scootaloo sat up and peered at her with interest.
Sweetie said, “You said you can only make cider on the farm though… For us to drink, I mean.”
“Yeah… Ordinarily.”
“Did you work out how to brew beer?” Sweetie made an excited little squeek.
“Naw. Don’t have the right setup. Making halfway good grain alcohol isn’t so easy as with fruit. Proper, decent fruit does most of the work for ya. And makin’ booze from fruit runs in the family.”
“Well, no offense,” Scootaloo glared at her ID card, “but I was hoping for something other than cider for once. Stupid alcohol-restriction law – it doesn’t even actually stop us drinking! It just restricts our selection.”
“Fruit…” Sweetie tapped a hoof in thought, “You made wine?” A shake of the head, “Apple wine?”
“Ah could,” Apple Bloom said, drawing the word out, “but that’s just another name for hard cider, really. Just makes it sound fancy before ya ‘still it.”
“So, this is distilled?”
Scootaloo made a noncommittal noise, “Mm, I guess moonshine would be a change.”
“Ah’ll have ya know,” Apple Bloom began, pointedly, “that mah family makes quality apple brandy, not just some ol’ moonshine. But, Ah’ll let your terrible slight on the Apple Family’s good name go. Just this one time,” she winked. Sweetie giggled.
“Ah do rather owe ya for plan 'D'. May Celestia rest it's soul. Anyway,” she sighed and continued, “Ah’m not allowed to use the distillin’ gear yet. Producin' is super restricted. Ah’d get mah brother and sister in a whole heap of trouble from the tax and licence ponies if they caught me using it underage. Cider makin’ they can’t really regulate though. Ah coulda just made a secret press instead of fixing up Applejack’s old one that she gave me. Nopony would know.
“Ah probably really ought to make mah own actually…” She trailed off, contemplating something.
“You didn’t just swipe some, did you?” Scootaloo asked, sounding worried, “Brandy, I mean. I don’t want you to get in real trouble. Like, with the government, or the Princesses. Or your sister.”
“Nope. Ah made this here honest farm-hooch mahself. It’s just… Ah thought Ah’d try a little something from Ma’s side of the family. Ain’t sure what AJ will think about it, mostly ‘cause I had to buy – well, trade – for the raw materials, y’might call them. It’s not really right unless y’grow them yourself, but we don't – didn’t – have the right trees.”
“Okay, you’ve got my interest…”
Apple Bloom respectfully tipped the small keg on it’s side and rummaged in her saddlebag for the tap she brought with her.
“Can’t guarantee much. This is mah first batch and Ah was planning on giving it a while longer in the cask…”
“Apple Bloom. Quit stalling. What is it?”
“So, well this here is what’s called ‘Perry’.”
