This is not fine.

School started off okay. Teach Horse read us a story, with the bigger fillies and colts taking turns helping, about a mad demigod named Tirek who stole the magic from all of Equestria in a bid to overthrow Celestia. He was imprisoned in Pony Hell as his punishment. It reminded me of stories my mother would tell of Satan and his War in Heaven to try to keep me in line. I always did feel bad for Satan.

But when history was over, we were gestured away from our desks and into the “activity center” behind them. I found a set of tiles that a toothpaste-maned filly said are meant to represent elements of the three forms of pony magic—telemancy, geomancy, and alimancy. They are painted in shapes defined by connected stars against a night sky, for ease of understanding maybe, and they can be joined together at any star to create a more complex shape. Playing around with that is where I mess up.

“Oh my gosh, what are you even doing?” Hair Bow says in an obnoxious nasal drawl. “Hey, everypony, look at this.”

I cover up my work with my hooves and glance around. He’s drawn several ponies’ attention, but Teach Horse’s back is still turned. Before I can sabotage the way the tiles are strung together, Hair Bow brushes me out of the way with a twinkle of too-hot magic, and laughs.

“Check it out! She wants to go to Tartarus!” Hair Bow stops laughing right as the others gathering around me start. “Nice going, Sweetie Hell.”

“Sweetie Hell!” several ponies echo. This isn’t seriously happening, is it? The world shrinks around me. Every jeering gaze is on me or my botched work. My heart burns, and I have to hide my face before anyone sees me tear up. It doesn’t do any good, not when my shoulders start shaking.

I have to disappear. The ground should swallow me up. Maybe I should go to Pony Hell. The thought catches inside of me. Something rumbles in the distance, not heard or felt by touch so much as sensed. Glowing warmth is in front of me, and something smells burnt, but I really wish I could just—

“Enough.” Teach Horse stands just outside the half-circle of fillies and colts around me, his head held high to fix the entire group in a stern and disapproving frown. I take the moment’s respite to rub some of the wetness out of my eyes. Hair Bow, directly in front of him, turns away from me with an audible swallow.

“Gosh, Mister Lee—”

“We will talk during recess, Applebloom. Now, the rest of you.” Mr. Lee doesn’t say any more, but all the ponies gathered around me seem to understand and disperse. Once they do, Mr. Lee steps towards me and lowers his voice.

“Are you alright, Sweetie Belle?”

I’m not. Hurt still boils inside me. My mind jumps straight back to the soothing warmth of Mom Voice’s embrace. I could really use one of her hugs. Why do I have to be so weak?

“I’m alright,” I say. Mr. Lee raises a skeptical eyebrow, and I curse my stammering. “I’ll be alright.”

“Very well,” Mr. Lee says. “Let me know if he causes you any more problems.” He pauses, looking down at the magic tiles. I follow his glance; they are blackened and sooty around the stars and bright lines of their design. He bends his head down to sniff at them, and wrinkles his muzzle. I cringe.

“I’ll have to replace these,” he says, straightening up again. I open my mouth to apologize, but he raises a hoof. “Mana surges happen. I’ll give you a medical note for your parents later, and it’s important that you be honest with them about it, but you’re not in trouble. Understand?”

I give him a long look. He’s angry, despite his words. That much I can tell, especially since he’s going to write a note. The apology he held back erupts from my throat.

“I’m sorry, sir.” My voice keeps going. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt anypony or break your toys or—”

“Sweetie Belle.” His voice, carrying that firm kind of anger, breaks in and locks me up for a moment. Amazingly, he’s still just standing there looking down at me, angry but not violent. What is happening? Why is it happening again?

“Yes, sir,” I stammer. He sighs in disgust. I can only sympathize.

“Please don’t call me ‘sir,’ “ he says. “I’ll do what I can for you, alright? Now please, step back while I sweep this up.”

Mr. Lee has plenty of room, but I move anyway while he uses his wings to sweep rather than going for a broom. It takes only a few seconds, and then he is on his way back to his desk. With Mr. Lee diverted again and no one paying any attention, I can take a moment to breathe and collect myself. This day isn’t over yet. Who knows what other curve-balls it has left to throw me?

I turn back to browsing the shelves of toys and art materials, but there isn’t anything else of interest to play with, and nothing I can read that makes sense. Even the colored letter blocks don’t tell me anything, as their alphabet is foreign and half hieroglyphic. So much for even finding something to read. I resort to walking laps around the edge of the play area until Mr. Lee announces it’s nap time.

Nap time. What am I, three? But my body agrees with the teacher. With this morning going the way it’s gone, I guess a break is fine. The others drag together piles of beanbag chairs and gather into small groups, and I find myself near the center of a cluster of ponies from closer to the front of the class. In the midst of so much warmth and soft fur, it’s impossible to stay awake.

Waking up is nice this time. I come around in the middle of a warm pile of ponies. There are at least two others draped over me, and another acts as my pillow. The sun warms my coat everywhere that I’m not covered, and the warm, soft weight around me feels almost like being held in a close embrace.

Something in the back of my mind complains about being touched, but I can’t bring myself to listen, instead drifting in and out of a warm haze until a voice announces lunch time. After a minute or two, my mind connects the voice with Teach Horse and the name Mr. Lee.

Oh yeah, I’m in kindergarten. I bleh and open my eyes as the ponies on top of me get up, leaving me exposed to cooler air. Everyone is in various stages of waking up, retrieving lunch bags and boxes from their desks, and heading outside, generating a stream of activity through the schoolhouse. I drag myself up onto my hooves and join them, drowsily plodding back to my desk to pick up my mystery lunch bag with my mouth.

It takes me until I’m almost out the door to realize how weird that is, and I stop to look around and see how everyone else is doing it. Almost everyone is doing the same thing, though. Even the unicorns carry their bags and boxes in their teeth, aside from a few who float theirs along in a glowing aura of magic. There are a handful of fillies and colts carrying their lunch on their shoulders, mostly pegasi. I shrug and drift outside with the rest.

It’s a blazing hot day. The sun is far too bright, and everything smells of baking earth and grass. There are little white ponies everywhere, running and playing despite the heat, while the fillies and colts I vaguely recognize from class are clustered together in the shade of everything from scattered trees to the schoolhouse itself, getting out their lunches. Boxy little drinking fountains with two wheels, like squat trash bins, have been set up next to the building.

The warmth was nice inside, but out here it’s the bane of my existence, so I settle on the least-occupied spot of shade I can find. It barely registers that the other filly there is Silver Priss until I have already set myself down next to her.

“That spot’s taken,” she says without looking up from her lunchbox. For a moment, I’m frozen between snapping at her and just walking away, but quickly settle on the latter.

“Hey,” she says, stopping me in my tracks. I turn back to look at her, and she continues. “I said that spot’s taken. You can totally sit by my other side, or whatever.”

“Mm, mkeh.” I don’t speak well with a bag in my mouth, who knew. I guess it’s good to know the spot is actually taken and she doesn’t mind the company. That means she’s probably not just being a jerk like Applebloom. I turn and lay myself down on the far side of her from before. She doesn’t protest, so open my lunch bag and have a look inside.

The overpowering smell of pure sugar hits me first. The bottom few inches of the bag are smeared with pink frosting and decorated by three chocolate cupcakes and a small apple. I wrinkle my muzzle. Who gives a child almost nothing but sweets for lunch? I guess Celestia takes ponies supposedly being sugar-sweet literally. Maybe I even taste like candy now. Then again, maybe this isn’t normal. I look over at Silver.

“So what did you get?” I say. She shrugs.

“Who cares? It’s just, like, food,” she says. But before I can apologize or ask for something more specific, she continues. “But if you care so much, it’s cupcakes. Two vanilla frosted, one chocolate frosted, one party cake. And a coffee packet, because Daddy loves me.”

Oh boy. So sugar, maybe caffeine, and not much else, is normal food now, or at least a normal lunch. That’s obviously the healthiest thing for a growing filly, and now I’m thinking of myself as a growing filly. I roll my eyes and retrieve the apple from my bag.

It’s a really good apple, sweet and crisp, balanced by just a little tart, and juicy as anything. Taking a bite is like eating an apple and drinking apple juice at the same time, except the juice is delicious, pure and natural instead of the omnipresent juice-from-concentrate and fake “juice drinks.” I close my eyes and savor it.

“Seriously, Silver? Why are you eating with the new filly?”

And just like that, the moment is ruined. I swallow my bite of apple and look up to see an orange unicorn filly with unfortunate purple hair standing over us, her lunch bag floating off to the side. Before I can think up a reply that might deflect the new Hair Bow, Silver Priss fires back.

“Because she’s not an obnoxious, condescending jerk, Rainbow,” she snaps. “You should try it some time.”

Oh, this should be good. I take another bite of apple. But instead of slinging more mud or starting an actual fight, Rainbow laughs. What?

“Yeah, Silver, you still got it.” She puts on a casual grin and sits herself down by Silver’s other side. “So hey, new filly. What’s happening over here?”

“Eating,” Silver says. She has the grace to clear her mouth first.

“In the shade,” I add.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” says Silver. I swallow too early, and erupt in a fit of coughing and sputtering. She just rolls her eyes. “Serves you right, like, totally.”

Coughing consumes me until I can finally breathe clearly again. At least the apple is filling. I could probably eat the rest of it and be satisfied. Is it just that good, or am I just that small? I look into my bag and go for a cupcake.

This is the best cupcake I have ever had. It’s moist but not wet or doughy, the chocolate flavor is incredibly rich and smooth, and it’s so sweet that the idea it was ever in an oven just seems strange. The frosting is light and creamy-sugary with hints of natural vanilla and berry juice, and pairs perfectly with the chocolate cake. If there is anything to make up for how weird today has been, it’s this. It lights up my entire mouth and mind with yes. I take a deep, contented breath.

Rainbow giggles nearby, drawing me partway out of my cupcake-induced bliss.

“Good, huh?” she says through a mouthful of something. I nod, still savoring the task of licking the cupcake’s remains out of my teeth. No matter how weird and semi-flat most of these teeth may be.

“So how is it?” Rainbow asks. I look over at her. She gestures vaguely, muffin in hoof, and adds, “Being back at school.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” I say. Today has been one thing after another, and I’m mostly dealing with it by not thinking about it, but I don’t say that. “It’s a little, well…”

“Overwhelming?” Silver suggests.

“Yeah, that.” I look into my bag, but my insides warn me that I’ve eaten at least a few lifetimes worth of refined sugar already this sitting, and I go back to my apple.

All three of us eat in silence for a minute, until I take a bite deeper into the apple and get a mouthful of stinging bitterness that envelops my tongue. I gag and spit it out.

“Fuck!”

“Language,” Silver says. But Rainbow bursts out laughing. Silver and I glance at each other, then we both glare at Rainbow until she stops.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, still chuckling. “I guess it’s not so funny if you’re the one who’s never had an apple before. Only the surface bites are any good.”

“Could’ve warned me,” I grumble.

“Yeah, sorry. Anyway, I can’t call you ‘new filly’ forever so hey, I’m Rainbow Dash.”

“Sweetie Belle,” I say. I don’t say I guess. And anyway, shouldn’t she remember from the start of class?

“Silver Spoon,” Silver says. She sighs. “Yes, that Silver Spoon, whose daddy owns half of Manehattan and twelve different banks and Equestria’s only legal silver mine. You can, like, get any bowing and scraping and slash or begging for money out of the way now, if you really must.”

After a pause, she adds, “It’s rude to stare.”

“Um, right, sorry,” I say. Was I staring? I’m looking at her. I guess I was staring. “Sorry,” I repeat.

“Whatever.”

“I mean, I get that you’re rich—” I start, but Silver holds up a hoof in the universal stop signal.

“I know what you mean, but let me just get this out of the way. We do not talk about the Rich family,” she says.

“Who?”

“Applebloom? Filthy Rich? Granny Twist? Any of those names ring a bell?” Silver says.

“Not really. I’m not really from around here,” I say, my words twisting in my mouth and hurting my brain. Ugh, why would Celestia censor this but not actual human vulgarity? Now I have a headache.

“Oh!” Rainbow says.

“Oh. I guess this had to happen eventually.” Silver sighs. “You’re an immigrant.”

“An emmy-what now?”

“Immigrant. It’s like, Fancy for please pay at least a little attention on vocabulary days, Rainbow.” Silver groans and rolls her eyes. “It means she’s not from Equestria, or whatever. Which means the whole of Equestria is set up specially for her, and she’ll end up richer than my daddy, and become more magical than anypony despite being an earth pony somehow. She’s probably not even a real filly, and—”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I snap, trying to sound more offended than confused. My head hurts too much to give it a good effort.

“Uh, Silver—” Rainbow says.

“Whatever. I’m going to eat somewhere else.” I pick up my bag again. It doesn’t feel right to just tune them out and walk away, and it drags my whole frame down, especially my head and ears. I manage to find a nice, isolated bush to hide behind just in time, as the boiling hurt I’ve been denying all day erupts into a stream of hot tears. Trying to hold them back with anger at my weakness only makes the burning in my chest worse, and at last I give up and sob.

I don’t remember what I was promised, but I know Equestria isn’t supposed to feel like this.

Author's Note

This chapter was generously sponsored by Canary in the Coal Mine via Patreon. Thank you so much for the motivation and support!

An early draft of this chapter was pre-read by Petrichord, whose work is definitely worth watching.