Less

by Duplex Fields

Rating: everyone
Tags: Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo, Fluttershy, Adventure, Derpy Hooves, Twilight Sparkle, Sad, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 6313

When Scootaloo's dreams are stripped away by the evidence before her, she discovers a world of long and scary words, of short and hurtful words, and of patronizing glances which make her feel like less of a pony.

Can't fly. Might never fly. When a filly's dreams are stripped away by the evidence before her, she discovers a world of long and scary words, of short and hurtful words, and of patronizing glances which make her feel like less of a pony.

Takes place between Flight To The Finish and Twilight Time.

Preview picture: "Maybe Someday" by ~Tami-Kitten, used with permission.

Published 2012-08-09 23:14:04 UTC
Last updated 2013-12-29 21:48:41 UTC

Expected

We pegasi are born thinking vertically.

As I entered Ponyville's library, I smelled vapor. "Twilight?" I said, looking up.

"Oh, hey Scootaloo," said Twilight Sparkle from above me. She was perched on a tiny puff of cloud, with a goofy grin on her face. It reminded me of the time she told us her cutie mark story and went nuts. In a happy way, not the kind of nuts she usually goes.

She leaped onto the staircase, and made her way down to my level. "I just made my first cloud! Isn't it neat?"

I looked at the puff again. "Yeah, it's a nice one. Hey, why didn't you fly down instead of using the stairs?"

Twilight looked behind her, fluttered her wings once, and looked back at me with a sheepish smile. "I kinda forget they're there sometimes. That's pretty ironic, considering I'm studying up on my new pegasus magic right now. Have you ever made a cloud?" she asked eagerly.

"All the time," I said, "My dad works at the windmill next to Sweetie Belle's house. The water wheel makes a lot of spray, so it gets really humid in the wheelhouse. But pegasi don't make them by hoof anymore, except in science class. Up in Cloudsdale, they have giant cloudmakers that go whoosh, and make the clouds that way." I threw my hooves up for emphasis on the whoosh.

"I've seen them. We went on a tour of the weather factory when we were in Cloudsdale for Rainbow Dash's Best Young Fliers competition. And I helped measure the waterspout last year, before I got my wings." Twilight's words made my tummy hurt and made me frown. "What's wrong, Scootaloo?"

I looked down and rubbed one forehoof against my other leg. "You just got your wings, and you're already as good a flier as Fluttershy. I was hoping..."

The library fell silent. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. It was awkward.

I hate awkward.

Awkwardness was going to happen no matter what, so I had to get it out of the way as fast as I could. With a scowl on my face, I rose to all fours, looked her straight in the eye, then lowered on a foreknee, my head respectfully to the ground. "Princess Twilight Sparkle," I said, squeezing my eyes shut, as I sped through the phrase I'd researched and rehearsed in secret, "I humbly ask you to consider this lowly pony's simple petition. I can't fly, but I want to, more than anything else in the whole wide world. Can you help me?"

There. I'd said it, and it couldn't be taken back. I breathed heavily. It was one of the scariest things I'd ever done, telling an adult about my weakness, but she was a superhero and also the princess of friendship. Surely she could--

"You can't fly?" she asked.

I rose from my position of suppuration, and once again looked her in the eyes. "You didn't know?"

"No, I didn't." said Twilight as she walked around that big table in the middle of the library, talking to the shelves, "I guess I didn't really pay attention. I mean, you're always riding around on that scooter of yours with my friends' sisters, and neither of them is a pegasus, so I just assumed you were on the ground because you wanted to be here. Have you asked Rainbow Dash to help you fly?"

I blushed, but Twilight continued talking. "I know you look up to her, and I'm sure she'd be willing to teach you if you want to learn."

"I don't know if it's something I can learn," I said, "What if I can't fly at all? What if she gets tired of hanging around with a grounder and replaces me as the head of her fan club? What if she doesn't want to be like a big sister anymore?"

Twilight smiled. "I'm sure Rainbow Dash would understand. After all, she was friends with Fluttershy back when she wasn't a good flier either."

I admit, I whined when I said, "But she could fly a little, I can't fly at all."

"At all? Not even a bit? But that doesn't make sense," said Twilight, "I see you pulling that cart all the time, and Rainbow said you towed your friends a long way the other day. Your wings should be strong enough." She rubbed her jaw with a hoof. "Well, I'm willing to try to help you fly." She smirked. "Hey, that rhymed. I think Zecora's rubbing off on me."

I rolled my eyes. I just had to pick the dorkiest princess.

At Twilight's request, I hauled her out to Sweet Apple Acres with a bunch of sciencey equipment in my wagon.

The course for the Sisterhooves Social was empty of ponies and obstacles, which was something of a relief to me. I really didn't want anypony to see me out here. Twilight lifted the items from the wagon, and set them down with her magic in the middle of the track. "Okay, first I'd like to get a reading on our wingpower. I haven't ever measured mine," she said, grinning and flapping, "so this should be interesting."

She put a table fan next to the track.

"Oh," I said, feeling a bit excited, "Are you setting up a wind tunnel?"

"What?" she said, glancing at the device. "No, this isn't a fan. It's an anemometer. It will measure our accelerative velocity and translate it into wingpower, thus gauging our anti-gravitational potential."

I caught about half of that. "So how do I use it?"

"Well," she said, "I'll demonstrate." She teleported halfway around the track, and started running. She put her wings out, and I could see the angle was wrong. As soon as she lifted her hooves, she sprawled and tumbled into the dirt, skidding to a stop.

I ran over to her. "Are you okay?"

She climbed to her hooves, and checked each of her six limbs systematically. "Yeah, I'm fine. Good thing one of the pegasus magics is extra sturdiness. One time, Rainbow Dash was doing tricks at at least a third the speed of sound, and slammed into the ground. It looked like a horrible crash, but she only broke one wing, and she only had to stay off it for a week."

I remembered the time I'd fallen from a cloud at least ten stories off the ground. "It sure does come in handy sometimes," I agreed. "I've had to fix my scooter a bunch of times, but I haven't broken any bones yet."

Twilight looked out across the track. "Go watch the dial on the anemometer. When I zip past, write down the number."

I trotted over, stood in position, and waved. "Ready," I called out.

Flexing her oversize wings, she tried again. This time she picked up speed swiftly and launched into the air. She was a little unsteady, and flew a bit high for ground-skimming, but by the time she got lined up with the anemometer, she was level and low.

I felt a rush of wind as she passed, but I kept my eyes on the needle. "7 3/4," I wrote.

She stumbled a bit as she landed, but recovered as she trotted back to me. Her mane was blown back, and she was grinning. "Flying fast is fun," she said, looking a bit dazed.

I wished I knew what that was like. "Okay, my turn." I trotted toward the starting line.

"Wait," called out Twilight, "You forgot your scooter."

"I don't need it," I called back, "Watch this." I steadied myself, steadying myself as I buzzed my wings. The pressure behind threatened to topple me onto my face.

At the last possible moment, I lifted my front hooves. My mane flew back as I burst forward. I could feel my hooves skittering across the ground as I followed the curve of the track. My wings felt strong and powerful. My speed was undeniable.

As I zipped past Twilight, I felt sure I was at least as strong as her. After all, I was going twice as fast as she had. Grinning, I slowed my wings and turned the skim into a gallop. I breathed hard as I turned and headed back to the ammometer. "So," I said, "How'd I do?"

She had an odd look on her face as she spun the ammonometer by hoof. "I don't understand it," she said, "It was working fine a minute ago."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"The needle didn't even budge," she said, kicking the device in frustration. "Let's test it again."

Twilight zipped around the track a couple of times, registering just over seven and a half each time. Then I tried. And again. And again. Whether I used my scooter or not, my wingpower registered as zero.

I was just about ready to buck that amononommeter into scrap metal. "What's wrong with it, Twilight?" I asked.

"I've been watching the magic using a detection spell," she said. "The anemometer detects anti-gravitational potential, and it looks like it's working like it's supposed to."

"It doesn't just measure airspeed?"

She looked at me with an apologetic face. "It's specifically designed to measure the pegasus magic that gives you lift. Wingpower is a magical force, and from what I've read, every pegasus is supposed to have it, but somehow..." she trailed off.

"I don't," I said, tucking my wings at my sides and sitting down. That ache was back in the pit of my belly.

Solvable

"Spike! We're back!"

Spike came downstairs from the kitchenette. The little purple dragon was in his apron, carrying a tray of daisy and wheat sandwiches. The bread was food-colored to look like rainbows. "Thought you gals might want some snacks after all that flying. You were out there a while."

I could practically feel the drool leaking from my mouth. "Thanks, Spike!" I said, and grabbed one with my mouth.

As I chewed, Princess Twilight levitated her own sandwich near her mouth and turned to face the dragon. "Parchment and quill at the ready, I've got a royal promise to fulfill. We should start with a checklist."

"You're still gonna help me fly, even though you proved I can't?" I asked through a mouthful of sandwich, as Spike went into the next room, tossing his apron aside.

"You can't fly on your own at the moment, Scootaloo. That's the only thing we proved." She put a hoof to her chest and closed her eyes, posing regally. "A princess always keeps her word." She opened her eyes, a frown on her face. "Unless she isn't able. Or she's incapacitated. Or the laws of physics won't allow it. Actually, I guess I'd better be careful about giving my word from now on."

Spike re-entered the room with a few blank scrolls. "Checklist title?"

"Helping Scootaloo Fly," said Twilight, smiling.

"Ready," he said.

"Item one: create list of experiments on lift production," she said, "Item two: investigate long-term feasibility of each lift-producing scenario through experimentation."

"Check," said Spike, crossing the final 't's. He looked up at her. "List of ways to make Scootaloo fly. Ooh, how about balloons? Pinkie Pie has a balloon harness for hovering."

"Mark it down, Spike," said Twilight. "She also has the candycopter, but I don't think a hoof-powered vehicle using propellers would count."

I shook my head. "I want to use my wings."

"No propellers, got it," said Spike. "Tank's hover-propeller is out for sure. There's probably a spell to make her float, though."

Twilight said, "Probably. Make a note to research that one."

Spike wrote it down. "Now, what else floats?" He tapped his chin with the quill's feather-tip. Suddenly, he opened his eyes wide. "I know, clouds!"

Twilight pondered. "Write it down. Oh, let's put 'hang glider' at the top of the list. I think we could easily convert thrust into lift with a hang glider."

"You used your scooter all the way to the Crystal Empire, didn't you?" Spike asked me.

"Actually, I just caught up with the train," I said, smiling, "It wasn't even to Vanhoover, and I was exhausted."

"That's quite the feat of endurance anyway," said Twilight, putting a forehoof around me. "You've got strong little wings."

I frowned. "Wait a minute. All we've mentioned are tools and spells with effects. What about actually making my wings grow better?"

Twilight looked upward, thinking. "Hm. I don't specialize in medical spells, and I don't want to try anything that'll hurt you. We'll have to consult a physiologist first, and check on interactions between the arcane characteristics of a growing filly's body and any spells I'd potentially use." She poked at my wing with a hoof. "Still, it's a valid area of investigation."

I imagined flying up to Rainbow Dash's cloud house and knocking on the door.

"Hey, Scootaloo," she would say, then her eyes would bug out. "Whoa! You're flying?!? Now we're gonna be best buds forever, and hang out with the Wonderbolts together, and I'll teach you how to make a rainboom, and make you sub-captain of the Ponyville Weather Patrol..."

*snap* *snap*

I shook my head. "Huh?"

Spike moved his claws away; he had snapped them in front of my face. "You okay? You zoned out there for a second. You had this goofy smile."

I quickly restored dignity to my facial expression. "Did not."

"Did too," said Spike, smirking.

"Let's get back to the list, shall we?" said Princess Twilight. "There was a spell Trixie used on Rainbow Dash that made one of her wings huge. We should look into a bilateral version of that one for sure."

Spike scratched words onto the scroll. "How about Zecora? Maybe she knows a potion that can grow her wings?"

"Ooh, ooh," I said, waving a hoof in the air. "Discord!"

Spike went pale.

Twilight frowned. "I really don't think that's a good idea, Scootaloo. He's up to something, but he's hiding it well. After that whole Plunder Seed vine infestation that cost us the El... er, a lot of time and effort, I trust him less than ever."

"But if nothing else works," I said, "Can we give it a try?"

"Only if both Fluttershy and I are there," said Twilight, "And only as the very last resort. Spike, make sure those caveats are on the list."

"Ka-veee..." said Spike, squinting as he wrote.

Twilight rolled her eyes. "Conditions. Anyway, let's categorize the list and see what we have."

Within a minute, Spike had rewritten the list on another scroll, sorted into Artificial, Natural, Medical, and Magical categories.

"Can you blast me with the Elements of Harmony?" I asked, seeing Spike write Discord's name.

Spike and Twilight glanced at each other. They looked nervous. Spike said, "You see..."

Twilight interrupted him. "The Elements are a measure of last resort, a heavily guarded national security measure. They're much too powerful to use on you, and I have no idea what the effects would be. We won't even write that one down."

I glanced at her head. She wasn't wearing a crown. "Whatever. So, what are we waiting for? Let's get started!" My belly grumbled loudly enough for both of them to hear. "...after dinner?"

Twilight put a hoof on my shoulder. "Why don't you get a good night's rest, and we'll try tomorrow after school? That'll give me a chance to research the spells on this list."

With a noncommittal grunt, I agreed to the plan.

Expect (old version)

Sweetie Belle hovered an apple at her mouth and took a bite. Rarity had given it to her as a reward for staying out of trouble that day.

She heard a crash and bang to her left, behind a gizmo repair shop. Turning down the alley, she saw Scootaloo smashing her hind legs into a trash can. "Whatcha doing?" she asked.

Scootaloo turned toward her in shock. There were dark streaks below her eyes. "None of your business, hornjob!" she shouted, frowning fiercely.

Sweetie Belle's magic fizzled in shock, and she dropped her apple. She'd never heard Scootaloo use tribalist language before. "H-hey!" she said, but Scootaloo brushed past her, wings flared.

Sweetie Belle stood there for a few seconds, eyes wide, feeling like she was going to cry. Then she looked down at the fruit at her hooves. "Waste of a good apple," she said, hovering it toward the abused trash can, where a flash of color caught her eye. "What in the world is that?" she wondered aloud.

In the can lay torn posters, smashed figurines, and a deflated balloon sculpture. A rainbow wig was stuffed down one side, touching a dark brown banana peel.

She stood on her hind legs and pulled at one of the posters with her magic. It was half of a video-game-style drawing of Rainbow Dash, flying through outer space. She still remembered the night Scootaloo had stayed until 2am, coloring this in on some of Rarity's graph paper.

Why would Scootaloo throw away all the stuff from her Rainbow Dash Fan Club?

"Whaddya mean, never?" asked Apple Bloom, her eyes going wide.

Scootaloo flapped her wings, hard. "I mean NEVER, as in you might as well just cut them off. They're useless!"

Apple Bloom reached her right forehoof toward Scootaloo's left wing, but Scootaloo jerked it back before she could touch it. "Well, I don't get how th'doctor could just come out an' say that. Maybe yer just small fer your age."

The next thing she knew, Apple Bloom was sitting in the dirt, her head spinning. "Don't you get it, you stupid mud pony?" Scootaloo growled at her, "I'm stuck here on the floor of the world forever! With all the trees and the animals and the mud."

"But ya like playin' in th'mud," said Apple Bloom, drawing back from her enraged friend.

"That was before I found out I'll never be able to leave it! Don't you get it? Don't you understand?" Scootaloo yelled.

"Pertend I'm just a stupid mud pony, an' explain it slower," said Apple Bloom, getting to her hooves, annoyance on her face.

Scootaloo snorted, and pointed upward. "You see that cloud?" she asked, "That is my people's land. That is what I'm supposed to be living on. We can stand there and nopony else can. The whole world is ours, from the ground to the top of the sky. When I use my scooter, I pretend I'm flying. Well, now that's all I can do. I'm useless. I'm broken. And you'll never get it because you always lived down here, and you always will."

"I get what yer saying, Scootaloo. It's like if I wuz allergic t'apples," said Apple Bloom reasonably.

"It's like you're allergic to food, and dirt, and your own family," said Scootaloo, tears forming in her eyes. She wiped them away with one hoof.

"It'll be okay," said Apple Bloom. Scootaloo leaned forward, wings flaring.

Instantly, Apple Bloom hated herself for saying it. She remembered Applejack's stories of the weeks following their parents' deaths, all the awkward conversations and the well-wishers whose words salted the wounds. "It'll be okay," was usually the phrase her sister railed against on nights when she'd been at the aged cider. Even though she wished she'd met her folks, Apple Bloom was glad she hadn't had to go through all that.

She quickly said, "I mean, it won't be okay. It sucks! It's a horrible, horrible tragedy!" She hoped that would suffice.

Scootaloo stood perfectly still, an odd look on her face. For once, she was at a loss for words.

It was that particular moment that Sweetie Belle came around the side of the barn and saw her two friends standing there. "Hey Scootaloo, why'd you get rid of your stuff?"

Scootaloo facehoofed. "You know what? I'll be up at the clubhouse. Apple Bloom can tell you." She grabbed her scooter and was gone.

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were only halfway to the clubhouse when Scootaloo zipped up to them. Despite their conversation of only minutes before, all three had huge grins. Simultaneously they shouted, "Zecora!"

Sweetie Belle said, "She fixed Apple Bloom's tooth in a few seconds. I'm sure she can do something to help you." Apple Bloom was already hooking her wagon to the scooter.

The road was, as always, dark and scary. But with Scootaloo's speed, they made it to their destination unharmed.

"Zecora?" called out Apple Bloom, and knocked on the door. They each made faces at the masks as they waited. They didn't have long to wait, because with a creak and a groan, the door opened.

"Little ponies, on this fine afternoon," Zecora said, smiling "Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and dear Apple Bloom." She held the door wide open.

"Scootaloo can't fly," said Sweetie Belle as they walked inside.

"Yet!" said Scootaloo, poking her friend with a hoof, "Can't fly yet. The doctor says my wings are the wrong shape for flying, but I think he's got pickles for brains. Can you fix them?" She flapped the offending limbs for emphasis, and held them out for examination.

With a practiced glance, Zecora peered at Scootaloo's wings for about a minute. She pressed against one, and felt the resistance. Then she extended and flexed it, and Scootaloo moved it compliantly. This was almost identical to the doctor's examination. "You possess good bones and muscles," she said at last, "Have you been eating your sprouts of Brussels?"

Scootaloo stuck out her tongue. "Dad says I have to."

Zecora patted her head. "He's a wise pony, who values nutrition. I must do some research on your condition." She turned and went to the bookshelf, and pulled down some books.

Scootaloo groaned. "This is gonna take forever!"

"Well at least she didn't say no," Sweetie Belle said.

Apple Bloom pulled a small box from under a counter. "I've got some toys I play with when I'm watchin' her potions boil."

"You come here often?" asked Scootaloo, one eyebrow cocked.

"Watchin' her make potions, I get this funny feelin' like I know what's gonna happen. It's kinda like helpin' Granny with th'Zap Apple jam," said Apple Bloom.

"Maybe you're going to get your Cutie Mark in potion-making!" said Sweetie Belle, excited.

Scootaloo lay down on the floor. "Cutie Marks. Wow."

"What's wrong?" asked Apple Bloom.

"You guys get to worry about Cutie Marks," said Scootaloo, closing her eyes. "I have to worry about whether I'll be a lame duck for the rest of my life."

Zecora started a fire under her cauldron with some orange dust. This held the fillies' interest for exactly five seconds, but once she returned to her books, they turned back to the box of toys.

There were a few dolls with removable horseshoes and dresses, a puzzle cube with tiny steel balls, and two small zebras carved from wood. They had trimmed, painted hay for manes and tails. "Zecora brought these from her homeland," said Apple Bloom. "She said they're good luck charms."

Scootaloo sat up and pulled the wooden dolls close to her. "Gimme those. I need all the luck I can get."

By the time Zecora put all the books away, they'd gotten into a heated imaginary war between ponies and zebras, with progressively darker descriptions of the post-apocalyptic wasteland. "Argh, my containment suit," cried Scootaloo, "I'm exposed to the evil magics of these zebra devils!"

"If so lightly you play at the damage we'd do," said Zecora next to her ear, startling her, "Then I might not share my findings with you."

"Aw, we were just kidding" said Scootaloo, quickly, her cheeks flushing.

As they put the toys away, the potion-maker used a ladle to pour a hot, sweet-smelling brown liquid into four mugs. "Do I have to drink all four of those?" asked Scootaloo, excited.

"Three ponies, one zebra, and much to be said," Zecora rhymed, "This is warm cocoa, to make a clear head." With that, she took one of the cups and sipped it. A smile spread across her face. The three fillies eagerly took the drinks, though Scootaloo kept one eye on their hostess.

After they'd all had a decent portion of their cocoa, Zecora set her mug down. Her face grew somber. "The truth for the young pegasus, Scootaloo, is the truth of the way in which her wings grew."

Sweetie Belle gasped.

Zecora glanced at her, then continued. "With fine muscle structure, and strong, sturdy feathers, your body is perfect for shaping the weathers. But shaping of wings is an art with no masters. All recorded attempts are unbridled disasters."

The look of determination on Scootaloo's face withered, and her ears went back.

Zecora continued. "Stories of comas, or pain unceasing, of lives shattered with years of life decreasing. A spell was created by Starswirl the Goateed, but only enwombed can one reshape a steed."

Scootaloo stood up. "No! ARGH! My parents don't believe in that sort of thing!" she yelled, and stamped her hooves. "They did this to me! How could they do this to me?"

Apple Bloom shook her head. "Starswirl? That old unicorn that Twilight is always goin' on about?"

Scootaloo made a frustrated growl. "The Amniomorphic Spell. When a pregnant mare gets zapped with it, the foal won't have any deformities. Don't you remember that from Miss Cheerilee's class on how babies are made?"

Sweetie Belle blushed. "Oh. That spell."

Apple Bloom's eyes widened. "Wait, so that's th'lesson my sister pulled me out of? She said it wasn't fer tender ears." She muttered, "An' that's the day we helped momma hog give birth."

Scootaloo flapped her wings in annoyance. "Dad says pegasi shouldn't have to use that spell," she said, in a tone of mockery. "He said that the weak shouldn't contaminate the herd with their weakness. Well guess what, dad? You've got two beautiful daughters with horrible wings, and you could have had better!" The frustration in her voice mixed with a sort of quavering. "You've got one daughter who can barely fly, and one who can't fly at all because of your stupid pegasus ideals and whatever weakness YOU contaminated the herd with! You're a rotten dad, AND YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

She swiveled and kicked the cauldron, making a deep bass gong. "Because of you, I'm less of a pegasus!" She kicked it again. "I'm less of a pony!" Again she kicked it, and it nearly spilled. "I'm less than you wanted, and I'll never be enough!" Zecora steadied the cauldron, but Scootaloo was all kicked out. She stood with her face to the wall and her back to her friends. "I'm less than I should be, and I can never be better."

Dark spots appeared on the floor under her head. "No wonder I don't have my Mark. I'll never be good at anything."

Both of her friends just stood there, not sure what to say.

Author's Note

This is the original version of Less, and it will be coming back in all its flawed glory soon. Read my associated blog post if you want more details.

Love (old version)

The vine-strangled trees of the Everfree Forest zipped by at a breakneck pace. Sweetie Belle hung on for dear life, but she wasn't afraid. She'd ridden the wagon at higher speeds before, and Scootaloo could easily avoid any obstacle.

The sun, barely visible through the trees, was nearing the horizon. Apple Bloom leaned into the breeze generated by Scootaloo's wings. In the muggy summer air, it was nice and cool, and didn't smell any worse than the Everfree usually did.

Once they got back to town, Scootaloo dropped off Apple Bloom at Sweet Apple Acres. Then she headed for the one-story houses clustered near the business side of town, where Sweetie Belle's folks lived.

Sweetie Belle's tummy grumbled; they'd been at Zecora's for longer than she'd thought. "Hey Scootaloo," she said, "Why don't you want anypony to know Fluttershy is your sister? I mean, she looks just like you, and she's the Stare Master."

Scootaloo slowed down. "Are you kidding? She's a grounder. Pegasi don't talk to grounders much. Heck, Dad and Mom don't even have a party on her birthday." Her eyes opened wide, and she skidded to a halt. "Aw, c'mon! Now I'm not gonna get any presents!" She flapped her wings in annoyance.

"Maybe," said Sweetie Belle, hesitantly, "Maybe they won't care. Being family is like being apple pie-"

"Yeah, yeah, crust and mush," said Scootaloo skeptically. "Hey, you want to come over for dinner? See how they treat me now that I'm not a pegasus?"

"You're still a pegasus," said Sweetie Belle softly.

Sweetie Belle's parents gladly gave their permission for dinner at a friend's house. The smell of burning food from their kitchen only hastened Scootaloo's departure.

On the industrial side of town, near the lumberyard, a three story row-house towered over the street. The sunset cast a deepening shadow across the two fillies as they slowed to a halt.

Scootaloo gazed up at the wide balcony overhead, and sighed. She took off her helmet and set it in the wagon while Sweetie Belle dismounted.

As they pushed the wagon and scooter into the house, she hollered, "Mom, Dad, I'm home. Sweetie Belle's staying for dinner." The ground-level hallway was cluttered with kneepads, roller skates, a softball bat, a rainbow-colored hoofball, a taped-up hockey stick, and other sports equipment. The lighting was poor, but Sweetie Belle could tell it would be a nice place, if somepony would clean it up.

They walked down the hall, past a closed door with a signed Rainbow Dash poster. In the middle of the hall, the ceiling was open all the way to the third story. Sweetie Belle looked up in amazement. The interior of the apartment was a tall, hollow space, with wooden walls and windows up each wall to light the room. The edges of upper rooms hung out over the gap. Narrow staircases ran from floor to floor, connecting the three levels on each side. Through the house wafted a wonderful scent that made Sweetie Belle's tummy rumble again.

A yellow stallion peered over the edge, blinked, and smiled. "Well, hi there," he said, and flew down to meet them. "I'm Scootaloo's father, Tailwind."
His mane was two tones, the colors of the sky at noon and at dusk.

"I'm Sweetie Belle, pleased to meet you," she said in her politest voice, shaking his hoof.

"Scootaloo's told us all about you," he said, "We were just about to eat. Are you staying for dinner?"

She nodded.

He gestured upward. "I was counting on leftovers at work tomorrow, but first class company is worth more than a second go at a meal. C'mon up, dining room's at the top," he said, and leaped into the air. With four mighty flaps, he disappeared onto the third floor.

Scootaloo ran up the staircase, holding a wing out to catch the air and push her toward the wall. Sweetie Belle followed slowly, carefully. She made it to the second floor, and peeked over the edge. She immediately wished she hadn't.

"Uh, I'll be there in a minute," she said, and looked around. This room had bookcases on the walls and clouds hovering above a knitted rug. Curious, she walked over and stepped through the cloud. It was clammy and cold, and she shivered at the sensation. This must be the living room, she thought. The room across the gap had a sewing machine, a reading lamp, and several outfits that looked like they belonged in a Hearth's Warming Eve pageant.

She turned and gingerly climbed to the third floor; just as she reached the top, she peeked down, and it took all she had to ascend the final steps, run to the middle of the room, drop to her belly, and hug the rug.

Scootaloo's mom laughed. "First time to a pegasus townhouse, dear?" she asked.

Sweetie Belle stared at her. Scootaloo's mom was a tan-coated pegasus, with a purple mane more vibrant and shocking than Rarity's. "Yes ma'am," she said, and got to her hooves. The dining table was U-shaped, with couches on the outside. "Do you eat lying down?" she asked.

"It's an old pegasus tradition," said Scootaloo's mom, donning protective mittens and opening the oven. "I'm Flowstream, but you can call me Flo."

The delicious smell increased a hundredfold. "That smells amazing!" said Sweetie Belle, her mouth watering.

Flo hovered to the counter, carrying a glass pan. "Thank you."

Scootaloo licked her lips. "It's Mom's incredibly fantabulous Oatmeal Surprise." Then, raising a hoof to her mouth, she whispered, "The surprise is cheese."

Flo served portions onto each plate, and each pony took one to the table. As they ate, Sweetie Belle found the casserole to be just as delicious as it smelled. However, the lack of conversation was getting quite awkward. She wondered what Scootaloo's family usually discussed during dinner. If she was eating at her house, right about now Dad would be bragging about the school's star forward, and Mom would regale her and dad with the deals she'd gotten at the market.

Here, the glances were a conversation in themselves. Flo looked at Tailwind with a sort of pleading, but he glanced at her as if to say that he knew what she wanted. Then his eyes turned to his daughter, but she was staring down at her casserole with a glare that could make the cheese bubble.

Sweetie Belle felt uncomfortable, and it only got worse when Scootaloo's parents caught her looking at them. They gave her weak, apologetic smiles, then looked away. Sweetie Belle found herself trying to breathe as quietly as possible. At least the food was good, she thought as she swallowed her last bite.

Flo cleared her throat, and asked, "Would you like seconds, dear?"

Sweetie Belle shook her head. "No, ma'am," she said politely, "It's more filling than it looks."

Tailwind smiled warmly at her and said, "It's packed densely for powering six limbs. I'll take seconds, hun." He suddenly glanced at his daughter, as if afraid that she'd heard him, then grimaced at his wife.

"I'll get it," called out Scootaloo, jumping up from where she lay at the table. She grabbed her own empty plate with her mouth, ran to the counter, and stood on her hindlegs to place it next to the casserole. Then she ran back to the table and leaned in to grab her father's plate.

Her wing brushed his shoulder. He jerked to the side, as if stung. She dropped the plate, which bounced on the cushion, then fell to the floor and shattered.

Scootaloo's face held pure disgust. "I'm soooo contagious, Dad!" she yelled, "Watch out, your wings'll fall off!" For emphasis, she flapped her own wings hard. She held the glare for another second, then grunted and stomped down the stairs. Halfway down, she stopped. "I'm going over to Apple Bloom's, where at least they appreciate an earth pony. C'mon, Sweetie Belle."

They stopped at Sweetie Belle's home to make the sleepover official. When they got to the farmhouse, Applejack wasn't too pleased at the tale that was told, but she laid out the bedrolls in the barn just the same. "Now Sugarcube," she said, "Ah'm sure your folks still love you. Just give'em some time."

Board games with Granny Smith and Big McIntosh in the living room filled the next two hours, and soon enough, they were yawning. Applejack marched them into the barn, and set down a firefly lantern before heading back to the house. The soft green glow surrounded them as they lay down in the bedrolls.

"You guys gotta keep quiet at school tomorrow," said Scootaloo, yawning. "I don't want Silver Spoon or Diamond Tiara to know I'll never..." She stopped and contemplated her hooves. So did the other two.

Then Apple Bloom spoke up. "We've seen you catch some wicked air on that scooter of yours, an' you can haul us around town all day. So how in th' world does that translate into not bein' able to fly?"

Scootaloo sighed, and moved one forehoof in lazy circles. "You know how us pegasi can walk on clouds, right?" The others nodded. "Well, wings are magic too. Imagine giant wings as long as I am." She spread hers inside the bedroll, which looked ridiculous. "That's how big my wings feel when I'm on my scooter."

Apple Bloom looked puzzled. "Then why can't you go up?"

"The doctor says I have enough thrust," said Scootaloo in a low voice, "But my lift never grew in."

Sweetie Belle's eyes lit up in comprehension. "Oh, I get it now."

"Can you explain it a bit more, cuz I don't," said Apple Bloom.

"You see," said Sweetie Belle, "When she flaps her wings, it only pushes air from front to back. It doesn't push her up."

Apple Bloom turned to Scootaloo. "But can't you, y'know, angle yourself so back is down or somethin'?"

Scootaloo laid her head on her hooves. "You think I haven't tried that?" she asked. "Nothing works. Thrust never points down, and lift never goes sideways."

"That don't make no sense!" exclaimed Apple Bloom.

Sweetie Belle said, "Neither do pink polka dots and Zap Apple Jam."

Apple Bloom blinked. "Oh. Yeah." She yawned. "Well, g'night."

"Sweet dreams," said Sweetie Belle, her eyes drooping.

"Mmrmph," Scootaloo muttered, and rolled over on her side.

After that, the only sound in the barn was the soft snoring of two little fillies, fast asleep, and the quiet breathing of one who stared out the window at the night sky.

Author's Note

Again, this is the old chapter two. Read my author blog for more explanation.