Dinky ran for home as fast as her hooves would carry her, half-blinded by tears and wishing again that she had pretty wings like her mama’s so she could just fly away.
Diamond Tiara was a meanie at the best of time, but today, she’d been downright nasty. She’s started teasing Dinky and the other ‘blank-flanks’ during recess. The self-styled ‘cutie mark crusaders’ had plenty of practice at ignoring her, but it hadn’t been so easy for Dinky, especially when Tiara had started cracking jokes about her mom, calling her Derpy and other, even meaner names. “Maybe you can get your cutie mark by keeping her from crashing into things,” she’d laughed nastily. “You can be her seeing eye pony.”
Stung, Dinky had retorted, “At least my Mama’s got important work to do; she’s not a useless showmare like yours, who everypony knows just married your father for his money!”
Ooh, had that made the snooty Tiara mad. Really, really mad. She had used several words that would have gotten her in big trouble if Miss Cheerilee had been close enough to hear.
But before Dinky had a chance to feel proud of her victory (after all, it had only been the truth, and Mama had always said that truth hurts) Diamond Tiara had started telling mean, nasty lies about the rest of Dinky’s family; all sorts of bad things about her sister, her Grandma and even her dad.
Before Dinky had a chance to call her out on her lies, Miss Cheerilee had summoned the class in from recess. By the end of school, Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon and several of their cronies had all been whispering and snickering behind their hooves and shooting pointed glances at her. That had bothered her more than all the mean words because she knew they were making up and sharing more lies about her family.
She was more terrified that her friends might believe those horrible fibs than anything else.
She clattered through the door, nose stuffy and eyes burning. “Mama? Mama, where are you? Sparkler?”
“Your mother had the Cloudsdale run today. She won’t be home until late. Sparkler is at Miss Rarity’s, working on matching a set of jewelry to a Gala dress for a special order. “She’ll be home in time for dinner. I came over to keep an eye on you until then.”
“Grandma!” Dinky threw herself at the tan mare that appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was caught up in welcoming hooves and wings and snuggled close.
“Oh, my Dinky, what happened?” Her grandmother set Dinky back on her hooves and regarded her with concerned scarlet eyes. “Here. Come into the kitchen and I’ll make you some cocoa while you tell me what happened to upset you so.”
Dinky obeyed, sniffling. She clambered up onto a stool, resting her forehooves on the counter and watching the older pegasus mare deftly fill the kettle with milk and set it on the stove.
With a flick of her hoof, her grandmother turned on the heat under the kettle and set to measuring chocolate into a couple of mugs, her expression one of concentration. She was humming under her breath, a tune Dinky recognized as a lullaby her mother often sang to her when she was a tiny foal.
The familiar sound calmed her. Dinky took a deep breath, told the stinging in her eyes to go away and concentrated fiercely on her grandmother’s careful motions. “Grandma? Why do someponies lie? Why do they make up mean things about other ponies?”
With a sigh, the older mare settled on a stool next to her, draping a comforting wing over Dinky’s shoulders. “There are a lot of different reasons, little one. Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”
Blinking back more tears, Dinky began her recitation of the day’s events. Halfway through, her grandmother got up and turned off the stove, pouring the milk into the mugs and stirring the contents with a wooden spoon. When she was done, she set a mug in front of Dinky and dropped back onto her stool, waving at Dinky to continue.
Dinky managed to finish, though her throat closed at repeating the awful things Diamond Tiara had said. And those where just the ones she had heard; not the worse ones she was sure they had made up later.
Flicking her wing to keep her balance, the older mare leaned back, cradling her mug in both hooves. “You know,” she mused thoughtfully. “It sounds to me like she’s all kinds of jealous.”
“Jealous?” Dinky stared at her grandmother like she’d gone crazy. Maybe she had. Diamond Tiara, the pony who had everything she’d ever wanted, even her cutie mark, jealous of her? “Grandma, are you nuts?”
“You said it yourself. Her mother’s a grasping showmare who only married her father for his money. Chances are, she had a nanny and tutor looking after her. Her mother had no real love for her father and probably little to spare for Diamond. Her father does love her, but he’s away so often on business that she barely sees him. She doesn’t have any siblings, so no Sisterhood Socials for her.”
The pegasus mare paused and sipped her cocoa slowly.
Dinky blinked. “How’d you know all that, Grandma?”
A smile curved her grandmother’s lips. “Oh, you’d be surprised what you can learn, just paying attention. But that’s not important. We’re talking about why a self-important little filly could be jealous of you.”
“I don’t get it.” Dinky screwed up her face in confusion.
“Well, we’ve gone over what she has, so let’s go over what you have that she could possibly be jealous of. You have a loving mother who works hard to support you, but always has the time for you and your sister and is perfectly willing to drop everything if either of you need her. You have an older sister who’s only too happy to help you win pie eating contests and participate in races during the Social. You have a few memories of a father who loved you very much, and would have done anything for you. And you have a grandmother who gives the best hugs in the whole wide world of Equestria.” She suited action to words and wrapped both hooves and wings around Dinky in a huge hug that dragged a reluctant giggle out of the filly.
“See? That’s an awful lot to be jealous of.”
“So why make up lies?” Dinky asked unhappily, her face falling. She cuddled deeper into the embrace and rubbed her cheek on her grandmother’s soft tan fur. “If she’d just be nice, she could have a lot more friends and be happy. Instead, she tells lies about Mama, Sparkler, you and even Daddy.”
“That’s a hard one, Dinky,” Grandma nuzzled her mane. “Maybe she thinks that by making you feel bad, she can feel better about herself. Who can tell? Maybe she’s lonely and lashing out.”
“Or maybe she’s just a vindictive brat!” Sparkler added mischievously, dancing through the door into the kitchen. “Who could use a good tanning of her hide.”
“Sparkler!” Dinky hopped off the stool and dashed over to lean affectionately against her sister.
Sparkler mussed Dinky’s mane with a gentle hoof. “Hey there, kiddo. Sorry I couldn’t meet you after school. Sounds like there’s a filly there that could use a good piece of my mind.”
”Sparkler Amethyst Doo, you will not go beating up fillies younger than you!”
Sparkler ducked her head at the scolding. “I wouldn’t do that, Grandma!” She protested.
Grandma fixed her with a scarlet eye, making Sparkler blush and look sideways. “Well, not much, anyway.”
Dinky giggled helplessly.
Grandma shook her head. “Hopeless brat.”
Sparkler winked at Dinky. “I take after my grandmother.”
Dinky laughed while Grandma smacked Sparkler with a wing. “Just for that I should make you fix dinner.”
Dinky recoiled, still laughing. “Grandma, no! She’ll burn down the house!”
Sparkler swatted her with her tail. “One small fire and nopony will ever let you live it down,” she huffed.
“One small fire that managed to destroy two houses, half of Sugarcube Corner and a good chunk of the market,” Grandma said, folding her hooves and looking sternly down at the young unicorn. “Dear, if that is your definition of a small fire, I should hate to see a large one. Shall I report you to the mayor as a possible arsonist?”
“Grandma!” Sparkler blushed bright red under her coat.
Grandma shook her head, a wicked sparkle in her crimson-coloured eyes. “Fine, I’ll make dinner. Dinky, get me the alfalfa sprouts from the fridge. Sparkler, you sit there and don’t touch anything.”
“But…”
“Don’t you but me,” Grandma scolded, digging around in one of the cabinets for a pan. “Behave yourself and I might be inclined to make carrot dumplings to go with those steamed sprouts.”
Sparkler shut her mouth with a snap and promptly sat on her hooves, adopting the most innocent pose she could.
Dinky couldn’t stop laughing. Sparkler would do anything for Grandma’s carrot dumplings. Once, Mama said, as a little foal, Sparkler had eaten a whole pan of them, hiding in the cabinet under the sink. She had eaten so much, in fact, that she had gotten herself wedged in by her bulging stomach. It had taken two fire-ponies and Mama to get her out.
“Grandma, after dinner, can we make some muffins so that there are some fresh when Mama gets home from work?” Dinky asked hopefully. The muffins she made with Grandma weren’t quite as good as Mama’s, but Dinky was determined to keep trying until they were.
Grandma nodded, spatula held in her teeth. She set it down on the countertop. “I think she’d like that. But afterwards, it’s straight into the bath and bed for you. You still have school in the morning.”
Dinky pouted, but knew better than to object. “Will you tell us a bedtime story?”
“Aren’t you too old for bedtime stories?” Sparkler teased.
Grandma flicked a towel, stinging Sparkler’s rump so she jumped straight up in the air. “Nopony is ever too old for a good bedtime story.”
********
After dinner, Dinky worked on the muffins with Grandma while Sparkler cleaned up and tried hard not to sneak longing looks at the plate of carrot dumplings Grandma had set aside for Mama to eat when she got home. Grandma had already smacked her hooves with a spoon when she’d tried to snitch one. Dinky giggled every time she thought of the look on Sparkler’s face when she’d clutched her stinging hoof to her chest.
Grandma rummaged around in the cabinets for ingredients while Dinky stirred the batter. “Hmm, blueberry or candied sunflower?”
“Both!” Dinky said, echoed a moment later by Sparkler.
Grandma just shook her head, but pulled out a basket of blueberries and a paper bag full of candied sunflowers. “One would think nopony ever fed the two of you.”
Sparkler tried to look gaunt and underfed while Dinky clutched her stomach and looked imploringly up at her grandmother. “Please, mum, just a little bit? We’re poor starving foals who haven’t had a bite in weeks.”
Grandma laughed. “Maybe I should bite you then!” She snapped her teeth playfully, lunging toward Sparkler.
Sparkler shrieked with laughter and fled, sprinkling dishwater behind her. Grandma chased her around the kitchen twice before descending on Dinky with an evil smile and feathers poised to tickle. Dinky held the batter up as shield, giggling. “No attacking the muffins, Grandma! Or the queen of all muffins will unleash her muffiny wrath upon you!”
“Did someone call me?” Sparkler stood in the doorway, a throw from the couch in the living room draped over her flanks, a mixing spoon in one hoof and her eyes nearly as crossed as their mother’s. “I am the queen of all things muffin!”
Dinky giggled, jumping down off the stool. “Beware the muffins of wrath!”
Two hours, three explosions of muffin batter, and one glorious mess later found them all sprawled on the floor, wearing bits of muffin batter and decorated randomly with blueberries, candied sunflowers and the odd kitchen implement.
Grandma plucked a blueberry out of her ear, considered it for a long moment and popped it into her mouth. “You know,” she offered, chewing. “We’ve yet to bake an actual muffin.”
“Oops,” Dinky giggled.
Grandma set Dinky to making another batch of batter while she and Sparkler cleaned up the kitchen. When they finally had a batch in the oven and one waiting to go in, Grandma sent Sparkler upstairs to shower and run a bath for Dinky.
Dinky watched the muffins rise through the oven door and hoped that she’d gotten them right.
Grandma nuzzled her mane. “They’ll be very good. You made them perfectly.”
Dinky frowned, staring at the muffins through the glass. “They’re never as good as Mama’s though. I’m just not doing them right.”
Grandma nudged her hard, nearly toppling her off the stool. “Let me tell you a secret; your mom like your muffins better than hers. She always thinks that yours taste better.”
“Nuh-uh,” Dinky exclaimed. “Her muffins are always better.”
“I think that it is because of the secret ingredient,” Grandma said with a smile. “That’s why hers taste better to you and yours taste better to her. If you ask anypony else, though, they’ll always say that you two both make the best muffins around. Even the Cakes and Pinkie Pie both agree. They wish they could make them as well as you two do.”
“They do?” Dinky asked skeptically. “What’s the secret ingredient, Grandma? I always follow the recipe just like you tell me to. I don’t add anything extra.”
“That’s because it’s not an ingredient you can measure, dear. Love is very hard to measure accurately. You just keep adding it until it’s enough. You pour all your love for your mom and all your happiness at making the muffins into the tins with the batter, and that’s why they always taste so good, because of all the love you bake in.”
Dinky brightened. “Really?”
“Really.”
Dinky hugged her grandmother, smiling broadly.
Grandma ruffled her forelock, “I’ll get these out of the oven and put the next batch in while you run upstairs and get your bath. Then we’ll have some as a bedtime snack. And I think we’ll all camp out down here in front of the fireplace so I can tell you both that bedtime story at once.”
“Yay!!” Dinky scrambled up the stairs.
When she and Sparkler came back down, squeaky clean and wearing slippers and robe (in Sparkler’s case) and hoofie pyjamas (Dinky), Grandma had set up a huge pile of pillows and blankets in front of the fireplace. Fresh muffins waited on a plate with a cup of milk for each of them.
Grandma helped them both get comfortable among the pillows and they settled down with their muffins while she poked up the fire and settled on a large cushion with the fireplace at her back.
“Perhaps I should tell you a story from a thousand years ago, a tale of your own ancestors. Something to prove that despite what people might say, there are always those different and better for it.” Grandma folded her hooves in front of her and began. “My tale starts on the eve of what have many have considered the worst night in pony history, the night when Nightmare Moon was born…”
