All day long, Cheerilee stood and looked on as the schoolhouse was torn to the ground.
It was only a matter of time really. The old building had been slated for demolition months ago. There were no protests in front of the town hall to be had, no angry letters to the city council, no calls for a renovation. It didn’t even draw a crowd when it began. A few curious onlookers did stop to gander occasionally, though they would quickly tucker out and be on their merry little way, perhaps for the better.
Cheerilee stayed. She was the only one that ever did. She just felt like she had to. Like it was something that’s required of her, but there was never an inert desire or outside force at play that compelled her to do so. No, it was presumably the work of nature. Like honeybees to a flower.
She brought a scarf in case it got windy. An umbrella in case it rained. Even packaged some meals should the demolition last longer than expected, which it did. The old building was a stubborn beast, needlessly so. Even in its final throes, it proved to be quite the piece of work, as if it wasn’t about to make things any easier for those tearing it apart. Cheerilee, strangely enough, can empathise.
The foremare became the only company she had in her time there. She was kind enough to share some crackers for a light nibble in between her boxed meals. Some small talk here and there too, though Cheerilee made sure they were over as quickly as they started. She would much rather listen to the shrieking of broken glass and the screaming of wooden beams than engage in dry and witless conversations. She was polite with her dismissals, of course. After all, what good would it do her now to speak her mind? What good had it ever done in the first place?
Come evening, the last walls of the schoolhouse were torn down. What remained of the rubble had all been piled up, ready to be collected and hauled to a dump. Nevertheless, Cheerilee lingered amid the settling dust, her gaze not so much on the remains of the schoolhouse as to the soil beneath it. A tap on her shoulder strayed her attention momentarily towards the foremare, who handed her a faded red woodchip.
“Here,” she said, bearing one last grin. “For posterity.”
Cheerilee couldn’t bring herself to return a smile of her own. “Thank you.”
.
.
Perhaps it all started when she uttered to her ex-coltfriend the magic words three.
”You exhaust me.”
She never meant to say them, of course. It just slipped out, like water bursting from a dam. Regardless, by the time Cheerilee realized what she had done, there was nothing between them to salvage after the fact. The rest of their time together, and every other day since, had become nothing more than a slow downward spiral. The demolition of the schoolhouse was only the latest nail to properly sink in.
She had considered many things. A coloring book, a cat, a change of scenery even. Anything to distract her from her current trudge through the menagerie of daily miseries. Some nights, before heading to bed, she would finally muster enough courage to look at herself in the mirror and spontaneously declare a newfound commitment, only for it to crumble from her weathered shoulders when she wakes up the following morning. In the end, all Cheerilee had left was the same old routine of hanging her head low and dragging herself to the nearest bar, hoping to high heaven the pain would briefly leave her alone after a drink or two.
Of course, her ex would be there as well.
It was his bar, after all.
“Bee’s Knees. On the house.”
Cheerilee had only a frown as the bartender and proud owner of the establishment, Savoir Fare, slid the martini towards her. As always, the bar had long since closed. The last of its loyal patrons had left almost an hour ago, save for her. She had opted to stay behind for a few more glasses, which was becoming a more common occurrence than she would’ve liked. She can only imagine what Savoir would say about it. As if she hadn’t heard everything that he had to say about it already.
“You know a simple bourbon would be enough for me, Savoir.”
“You look like you needed a treat tonight,” Savoir replied with a shrug as he began wiping the shot glasses clean. “A good drink always opens you up for a great conversation. What better way than to serve an old favorite of yours?”
Her ensuing smirk, though good-natured, was vacant. Cheerilee took a sip nevertheless.
“As if I have any secrets left for you to pry.”
“You’d be surprised, mon Chérilee.” She always hated how suave he’d made himself sound whenever he said that. “I take it you were at the demolition this morning?”
She nodded.
“Shame, really,” he continued. “They could’ve done something besides tearing it down. A place with that kind of history, some refurbishments here and there, it could’ve been something special.”
“Mm.”
“You’d think the town would throw a fit. Or a vigil. You know, something.”
“That’s just how Ponyville is.” Cheerilee took a sip of her martini, the fizz of lemon and gin like diamonds between her lips as she puckered them in relish. “I told you, didn’t I? I’ve seen it coming the moment Princess Twilight announced she was opening the School of Friendship. Everything after that was just destiny at play.”
In other words, nature. Honeybees to a flower.
“The old you would think it’s unfair. That Princess Twilight went ahead without thinking of the consequences.”
“I’m very sure I’ve thought that at some point.” Cheerilee would’ve laughed freely if she didn’t still believe that. “She meant well. We both know she did. It’s all good intentions with her. Reckless, but good.”
“I still think you should reconsider her offer.”
“And I’ll say it again, I have no interest in teaching there. Still don’t. Besides,” she took another sip, “it’s been years. Starlight’s principal now. They’re doing a lot better for themselves than ever before. They don’t need me there.”
“You’ll never know, Chér.”
“That’s right. I’ll never know,” Cheerilee repeated with a knowing simper, which only earned her a disapproving stare. One long sip of her martini later, she nudged her empty glass forward. “If you may?”
Savoir could only sigh and oblige.
Cheerilee continued: “Remember how everypony acted so surprised when it closed down? How they’d come up and talk to me about all the memories they’ve made there, all the friendships they’ve had. The schoolhouse had been a big part of their life, they’d tell me. Yet when the time came?”
A gruff snort.
“Frankly, I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have been surprised anymore. It’s always the same with these kinds of things. The only reason ponies bring it up is because it’s convenient for a conversation, nothing more. One minute, it’s the talk of the town. The next, it’s as if nothing ever happened.”
“They do care, Chér.”
“If they cared, it wouldn’t be demolished in the first place,” Cheerilee sharply rebutted over the crackling of ice being juggled around in a cocktail shaker. “It’s gone now, nothing we can do about it. No one cared when it was around, no one cared when it was being demolished, now no one will care that it’s gone.”
Savoir had but a deep frown, even as he poured her drink into the glass. “And that’s somehow better? For it to go so quietly like this?” he asked, though for a moment, it seemed as though he wanted to say something else.
“It’s better that way.”
“Surely you don’t actually believe that?”
“What’s the point of fighting it?” Cheerilee asked, not that she wanted an answer. “No one had used the schoolhouse for years, Savoir. The paint’s faded, the garden’s full of weeds, the playground’s just a field of safety hazards, even the building itself is falling apart. It became an eyesore, Savoir, and the ponies here would rather get rid of it than bother thinking about how much it would cost to renovate and transform it into something of sentimental value, as if that ever meant to anyone here in Ponyville. There was never really a worthwhile battle to be had in the first place.”
“I just wished you did something more, that’s all.”
Disappointment. Beneath the fizzing bubbles, she could hear it seethe.
“Then what do you think I should’ve done?” Cheerilee asked after a minute of strenuous silence. “Honestly, tell me. I wish to hear it from you.”
Savoir whistled. “That never ends well.”
“You know I couldn’t care less about what you or anyone else thinks about me anymore, Savoir.”
“Yet here you are, asking for my opinion.”
“I’m looking for honesty, Savoir. If there’s ever one thing I know you can deliver to me in spades besides your cocktails, it’s that.” Cheerilee reached her hoof out towards her drink, only to pull back. “Look, I know I left some noteworthy impressions on you, some of them a bit more negative than others, but we’re past that point, Savoir, you should know that.”
“I do know that.”
“So you can tell me, yes? From one friend to another?”
Savoir raised an eyebrow. He placed the glass he was cleaning to the side. “Is that really what you’re here for?” he questioned. “Advice from a friend?”
Her frown darkened. “No, I’m here to bask in your condescension.”
“I’m asking a serious question, Chér.”
“Of course you are.” From the back of her throat, a prickling nicker. “Tell me, Savoir, do you do this to all your customers or is this service specially reserved for scorned lovers?”
“The latter,” Savoir answered, much to her indignation. “You know, I was hoping you’d never bring it up again, but here we are.”
“Perhaps you should’ve done more than hope.”
“Or perhaps I shouldn’t have placed my hopes on somepony so irresponsible.”
“You act as if it’s somehow my fault the schoolhouse got torn down.”
“And therein lies the problem.”
Cheerilee’s glare pounced upon him. Savoir consequently reciprocated in equal measure.
“It always is someone’s fault with you," he accused. "Yours, mine, doesn’t matter. What matters to you is that someone’s at fault here. Someone has to take the fall.”
“Point being?”
“You’re so hung up about placing the blame that you could never bring yourself to move on from everything that happened.” Savoir sighed as her glance fell away from him. “Look, you’re stuck, Cheerilee. You know that, I know that, we both know that. You don’t want to admit it, fine, but you’re stuck regardless. You always look tired every time I see you, you haven’t had a job in years and you’re drinking yourself to near-death in my bar. You might not believe this but I’m worried about you, Chér. Frankly speaking, I’m not the only one who feels that way.”
A sardonic laugh. “Oh yeah? Who else?”
“I’m not going to name names just to see you burn what little bridges you have left. I just want to help you. That’s what this is about.” Savoir grumbled deeply to himself, as if preparing for the worst. “Lucky for you, it just so happens that I have a problem that you might be able to help me with. A problem that I would pay good money for you to fix.”
Stifling a groan, Cheerilee downed her martini.
“It’s about Fuchsia—”
“No.”
“I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“You don’t have to,” she snapped, slamming her empty glass onto the table as she stood to leave. “And you said you want to help me. You’re sick, you know that?"
“It’s not what you think it is, Chér. Look, forget everything that happened between us and think about it, just for one second. You need something to keep you afloat. I need a tutor for my daughter to help her with her general studies. This can help us both.”
“You’re not doing this for me. You can say that all you want but we both know that’s not the case.”
“Fine, I'll admit it, okay? This is more for me than it is for you. Okay, I know it’s selfish, believe me, I know.” Savoir reached for her hoof, though she quickly yanked it away with a scowl. “But the truth is despite everything I’ve said to you, everything that we’ve been through, you’re still one of the best teachers I know. If there’s anyone I can trust to help Fuschia, it’s you.”
It was a bald-faced lie. Cheerilee knew it was. Savoir would never have offered if she was still teaching at the schoolhouse, that much was certain. For him to corner her with an offer such as that? It was a new low, even for him. As dire as her situation was, it’s not as though she was desperate enough that she would snatch up every opportunity that came before her. She was a mare that knew better than to throw away her ideas and beliefs for the sake of a few more bits in her pocket. She was a mare that still has her dignity intact. A mare that still has her pride.
Then again, what good did her pride do for her in her time of need?
What good had it ever done in the first place?
And so, Cheerilee clenched her eyes shut and swallowed all that was left of her pride with her drink, her teeth grinding beneath her cheeks as she slid her empty martini glass forward.
“When do I start?”
.
Fuchsia Fresh, age ten, was a filly who will one day save the world.
“Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that?”
“Friendship, that’s how!” she declared at the top of her lungs. “We of Equestria swore to ourselves in the name of friendship that we’ll save every creature in trouble, no matter how big or small! Mark my words, Baron Bloodbringer, we’ll stop you and your evil plans, and free the Golden Hippogriffs and all of the Highlands from your evil rule!”
With a swing of the wooden sword, Fuschia Fresh, Equestria’s (soon-to-be) esteemed Knightess of Friendship, stepped forward before her company of six, ready to face off an assembled herd of crooked creatures in cardboard helmets. Her steely glare was centered on Gollan, the young griffon currently assuming the role of Baron Bloodbringer for today, who, as rehearsed, let out a loud, fluttering squawk of a cackle, his talon twirling the tip of his nonexistent but obviously very dignified moustache.
“Do you really think that the six of you would be enough to stop me?” he scoffed as he raised his rapier, one made from an immaculate collection of branches that were bundled together and dipped in red paint. “You think too highly of your friendship, little pony. What good would it even hope to do when I have entire armies at my disposable?”
“Disposal.”
“Disposal, right, sorry Fusch.” Gollan cleared his throat and continued. “You and I both know that you and your company do not stand a chance against my forces, Knightess. Which is why I’m here to offer you a chance to live. To surrender gracefully and leave my lands, never to return.”
“And leave your citizens to suffer under your rule? You think I would just let that slide?” Fuschia swung her blade down towards the baron. “I’ve seen the lives that the Golden Hippogriffs had led. I’ve seen the sacrifices they’ve made to survive. And mark my words, Baron Bloodbringer, I will not throw away the friendship I had built with them just because you tell me to! Not in my life!”
“Then you will perish here, as will your friends. And when I’m done, the Golden Hippogriffs will follow.”
“Not if we stop you. Here and now.”
And so, Fuschia Fresh raised her wooden sword towards the heavens before angling it towards the baron. Her fellow company of six followed suit, stepping forward to join their leader in staring down the army of snarling beasts and vicious thugs. With a hoarse cry, the Knightess signaled the start of the greatest battle that this side of Ponyville had seen since the one that repelled the Legion of Doom, charging in a full gallop towards the Baron as the echoes of her ensuing declaration thundered across the hills as much as it rang in her heart.
“No creature left behind!”
And, as arduously rehearsed, her company followed suit.
“No creature left behind!”
.
.
Cheerilee, age never to be disclosed, was a mare who could not remember the last time she had left her house in the middle of the afternoon.
She was a stranger in her hometown, lost in this forest of familiar faces as the teeth of the summer sun raked her skin. Every sound was a wildfire in a blazing flood, every color a shriek of the light—altogether, the day was a cruel test of her patience and her perseverance. Then again, it was a test she could’ve very effortlessly passed, had she not decided on a whim to guzzle down two whole bottles of whisky late last night.
The painkillers she took before coming out were not working. The sunglasses she had been wearing weren't doing much to help either. If anything, they seem to be drawing a lot more gazes towards her, not that it mattered. After all, it’s not as though this was the first time she was seen like this in public. She had learned to live with it, and if anyone cared so much as to ask, she would swiftly thank them for their nonessential concern and happily retort that yes, this was very much how she was like all this time and yes, they would’ve noticed it earlier had they actually paid her any attention in the first place.
She will never blame them for their ignorance, of course. Honeybees to a flower.
“You stink.”
Cheerilee clicked her tongue. “Took your time,” she snorted, turning her head to acknowledge her ex-coltfriend cantering up to her. “You could’ve at least told me you were going to be a little late.”
“Like you’d listen.” Savoir pushed into her hooves a breath mint. “I told you not to drink on the night before the job, didn’t I?”
“At least I wasn’t being an inconvenience to anyone else.”
“You’re inconveniencing me right now, Chér.” A deep sigh left his lips when he caught her rolling her eyes as she popped the mint into her mouth. “Look, the last thing we both want is for Fuschia to start asking questions about it, alright? Her imagination is wild enough as it is. Come on, she’s probably waiting for us.”
Cheerilee would rather have her wait longer. A lesson in patience is always worthwhile, though it would seem careless of her to prepare it so soon. It would certainly go against the lesson plan that she had slapped together over the past week, which, slipshod as it may be, was at least made with something resembling thought and care. She should be commended for it, in fact—who else in Ponyville would be able to conjure up a custom-tailored curriculum in a single week without advance warning? Who else but her?
Experience, however, can only take one so far. If experience was all that mattered, she wouldn’t be stuck coddling the child of an old flame. She wouldn’t have lost her job to the blissful nescience of society and the idle work of bureaucracy, these outside forces beyond her control. She wouldn’t be wasting her time away on the couch, giggling like a filly as she listened to the honeyed persuasions that only a good glass of liquor could whisper in her ear.
If experience mattered, she wouldn’t be looking at herself the same way everyone else had been looking at her today.
A lost cause. A fool in yearning.
Speaking of fools. “You look funny without your suit on, Savoir.”
“Not the first time you’ve seen me out of it now, isn’t it? Though I guess it's been a while for you." The thought of it was enough to make Cheerilee gag. “Well, there’s no use wearing a suit when I’m out and about. It’s nice, I think. Compared to Canterlot, it feels a lot more free here in Ponyville than it is back there. No one here to judge you solely by your clothing, or lack thereof.”
Cheerilee begged to differ.
“Come to think of it, I don’t think you’ve ever met her. Fuschia, that is,” Savoir said, this time with a glance over his shoulder as they began their journey across Ponyville. “Then again, I suppose you never really had a good reason to.”
“I’ve seen her running around town.” More than a few times, which was already a lot more than Cheerilee would’ve liked to admit. “You of all ponies should know how hard it is to miss her shenanigans. Frankly, I’m surprised no one had ever filed any complaints against you yet.”
“Oh, there have been a few. Some more upfront than others,” he admitted, “I concur, there were times where she takes things just a little bit too far. Regardless, she’s a kid. She’s just doing what kids her age usually do. Yes, she can be quite rowdy at times but tell me, really, whatever is the harm in letting a filly indulge in her imagination?”
Cheerilee could think of one instance. One quite literally set in stone. “I don’t understand what would compel a filly to wrangle her classmates to wreak havoc upon the town with one of her pretend crusades,” she opted instead. “Don’t think I ever will.”
“You did once. And if you ask me, I think you still do.” The shrewd grin that Savoir flashed almost goaded her into flicking a hoof against his sides. “It’s a good thing, you know? What you have, it’s a talent. As for me, I won’t pretend to understand why she’s been doing this in the first place. All I can say is that I’m glad she’s having the time of her life.”
If only everypony else could be that lucky.
The Castle of Friendship emerged first from the horizon, this lumpy, lugubriously luxurious ludicrosity that the princess had once called home. The town council had decided to repurpose it in the years since Princess Twilight’s departure, turning it into some kind of museum in honor of friendship or something to that effect. The grand opening had certainly been an extravagant and overzealous undertaking as far as municipal ventures go. Of course, Cheerilee never bothered to attend. Far be it from her to head over and ruin the festivities over something as insignificant as her own personal grievances.
Right behind it stood the school, a bastion of friendship as it was a beacon. It was certainly less of an eyesore than the castle was, yet it was in no way any less dispiriting. Even as she was approaching it, Cheerilee could only acknowledge it with nothing more than a cursory glance from beneath her shades, one that the stately building gladly requited with a glower of its mismatched windows.
“Mr. Faire! Over here, Mr. Faire!”
Perking her ears, she turned towards the hills to see a stallion ambling towards them, his star-spangled cape and overgrown beard a clear sign to everypony as to who he was. “Vice Principal Sunburst!” Savoir returned his exuberant greeting in kind. “It would seem like my daughter had involved you in her conquests again.”
“That she did,” Sunburst chuckled, his glowing horn jiggling the clump of wooden sticks and cardboard strips he had been carrying by his side. “Never ceases to amaze me, the things she comes up with. Every time—every time—without fail. I have to say, Mr. Faire, it’s truly remarkable, the things she’s doing. You know, it really makes me wonder if her proactivity, her, her eagerness for these sorts of things. If it all could be channeled into something greater, something amazing, something that’s… that’s...”
It was only a matter of time before the vice principal noticed her presence. He certainly took his time with it, not that it mattered. His smile was quick to crumple into itself, shock and awe left behind in full display. Cheerilee fought back the urge to snicker, opting instead to look on with a vain simper as the stallion desperately tried to come to grips with her presence.
“Miss Cheerilee! Wow, I… wow...” His words tumbled out like dice in a cup. “Sorry, I was, it’s just... wow, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s everything, how have you been doing? Gosh, I haven’t seen you ever since… since… well…”
“I’m doing fine, thank you for asking,” she curtly interrupted. “I’m just here with Savoir to pick up his kid, then we’ll be leaving, that’s it.”
The bespectacled stallion furrowed his brow. His glance leaped towards Savoir, and while Cheerilee failed to properly glimpse the fleeting expression her ex-coltfriend had made, she knew it was anything but complimentary of her, she just knew.
“Right.” Sunburst suddenly remembered to blink. “Sure! Of course! I mean, I can go and fetch her for you two if you want. I’m sure she’s probably busy poring over pre-Equestrian military tactics or some such in the library right now. Most definitely like her to read something like that, even if she doesn’t really understand more than half of what’s written in those books, heh. Right, so I should... probably… go and...”
Cheerilee smiled. She never cared about how it may have looked. “That would be helpful, thank you.”
There was a certain joy to be had in watching the vice principal of the School of Friendship awkwardly shuffling away at her behest. A small victory amidst the piling defeats; the leap before the eventual dive into her greater decline. It’s really only fair that she gets her share of those anyway. No matter the methods from which they were earned, Cheerilee will take all her wins in stride, disapproving stares from ex-coltfriends notwithstanding.
“You know, you could stand to be a little bit nicer.”
“Nicer? To him?”
“And to anypony else. That should go without saying,” Savoir grumbled. “Seeing you like this really makes me worry about how you’re going to treat Fuschia later onwards.”
“Well, it’s a little too late to back out now.”
“Not that that’s my intention. I trust you’d follow through with the lessons, Chér. I just hope you’d give her the same slim chance as you have given me way back when.” Savoir shot her another one of his insufferable grins. “You’d like her in time, I just know it.”
Cheerilee harrumphed at the notion. “On what grounds?”
“No idea.” He attempted a thought. “Because I’m her father, I guess.”
“You’re also a bad judge of character if you think I’d get attached to her that easily.”
“Of course not. I don’t think she’ll immediately warm up to you either. Like you said, you’re not by any means easy. I would know.”
That quip finally earned him the less-than-light jab to the bartender’s sides that Cheerilee had been holding back on doing all afternoon. Regardless, Savoir let out a good-natured chuckle, as though he had been expecting that from her all this time.
“All that being said, I know my daughter well,” the stallion continued. “And I can tell you right now that contrary to everything she does, Fuschia isn’t exactly an open book either. It might take some time for her to adjust, so for at least the first several lessons, expect her to be very uncooperative.”
“I’ll be fine as long as you keep up your end of the bargain,” Cheerilee promised. “You should have a little more faith in me, Savoir. I wouldn’t be taking this job if I didn’t think I’d be ready for one rowdy little filly to ruin a couple of my weekdays.”
“Well, we’ll see how you’ll feel about that soon enough,” Savoir said, before cocking his head towards the school. “Here they come.”
True to his words, Vice Principal Sunburst was trotting out of its main doors. Scampering to keep up with him was a filly happily chatting away at the vice principal; a filly whose puffy mane and tail, save for a few streaks of pale gold, proudly flaunted the colour of her namesake—Fuschia Fresh herself, self-proclaimed future hero of friendship or some such and present-day public menace of the peaceful Ponyville afternoon.
“—and then, and then she swung her sword down! Right on the baron’s shoulder! Look, like this, like this, like—BOOM! Did you know, Vice Principal Sunburst? That when she did that, she cracked his armour into a gajillion pieces, Vice Principal Sunburst? Oh, I don’t think he even stood a chance—”
Cheerilee had never paid her much attention before now, so it came to her as a surprise when she noticed how small Fuschia actually was. The filly was no taller than a rabbit, the tip of her mane barely reaching past the vice principal’s knees. Even the backpack she was wearing was as large as her, so much so that it’s a wonder how Fuschia was able to carry it around without breaking a sweat.
“—so of course he had to surrender, right? He oughta, right? But he doesn’t! He kicks the Knightess’ sword in the air! Then he leaps and tackles her onto the ground! Grabs her by the neck with his, uh… his pointy-hoof-thingies—”
“Talons. Also, Fuschia, I don’t think that part’s necessarily true—”
“—and then he strangles her, Vice Principal! He holds her down and then he strangles her, you know? And it goes like this—”
“Fuschia, I know what strangling is, I really don’t think we need a public demonstra—”
“Aaarrrggghhh!! Ghghghgh!! Bleerrggghhhhh!!”
Cheerilee choked back the urge to laugh, watching the vice principal’s futile attempts at wrangling the irradiating ball of energy flopping about on the ground. What Fuschia lacked in height, she seemed to have made up for in her robustious personality. As entertaining as it was, however, she knew it wouldn’t be long before she will be subjected to the same treatment herself. Not that she wasn’t up to the challenge, of course.
“—but hold on! Wait a minute! She kicks his legs out from underneath him! Whoosh! Baron Bloodbringer falls onto the ground! He quickly gets up, of course, but by the time he does—”
“The Knightess of Equestria stopped him with the tip of her blade underneath his chin,” Sunburst finished the filly’s rambling with the eloquence she lacked. He then closed his eyes and cleared his throat, before adopting a clement gaze befitting of many a luminary in the annals of Equestrian myth.
“Surrender, Syr Baron of Afon Drychglas, Penhebogydd of the Northern Karsts and Harbinger of the Red Plumes.” The vice principal uttered those words with a dignified tone of voice, one very unlike the flustered sniveling that came from him just moments ago. “Surrender and I’ll see to it that Her Royal Highness shall spare you for your misdeeds in favor of your many virtues.”
Fuschia giggled. “In the name of friendship!” she cheered.
“In the name of friendship,” Sunburst concurred with a muted grin. “Alright, now that that’s done, look who’s here to pick you up!”
“Papa!”
“That’s me!” Savoir cheekily declared, kneeling down as his daughter skittered towards him and leaped to hug him by the shoulder. “So! Looks like someone had a great time swashbuckling after school again.”
“Mm-hmm!” she chirped with a buoyant nod. “It was Gollan’s turn to be the bad guy today!”
A mock gasp. “The Bloody Baron!”
“Baron Bloodbringer, silly!” Fuschia corrected her father with a laugh. “Did you know that after the battle, he became one of the nicest barons in Griffonstone? The books say he always helped out every creature in his land that needed it. He even went to help the Knightess when she asked!”
“Did he now?”
“And also! And also! The Golden Hippogriffs? They say he’s one of the best griffons that ever lived!”
“So he was never the bad guy after all?”
“He was a bad guy. But he’s a good guy now. All creatures are!”
It was at that exact moment that Cheerilee scoffed.
She didn’t mean for it to be as loud as it was. Nevertheless, what’s done is done, as all eyes had turned to the disgruntled mare almost immediately, all of them showcasing an array of differing expressions. Vice Principal Sunburst had a wide-eyed stare of shock and confusion, his jaw agape at what just happened. Savoir seemed to have a momentary lapse, but that quickly changed into a very pointed glare when the realisation of what she just did finally sank in. Fuschia, however, merely looked up at her with a tilt of the head, blinking and furrowing her brows before turning back to her father.
“Papa, who’s this?”
Savoir exhaled. “This is Miss Cheerilee,” he said even as his deathly gaze continued to linger on her. “You could say that she’s one of Papa’s old friends.”
Fuschia’s eyes jumped back to her, her painfully innocent curiosity palpable. “Really?”
Cheerilee couldn’t help it. She slowly drew her gaze downwards to meet the filly’s, her lips stretching thin into her widest grin. “Occasionally.”
“Well then!” Savoir stood up and turned to address the vice principal, who had been awkwardly watching everything unfold from the sidelines all the while. “I think it’s time we take our leave. Thank you for taking care of Fuschia again.”
“Y-Yes! No, of course, no problem at all, I… right! No problem.” Sunburst’s nervous glance darted between the two. “I-Is everything okay?”
“Everythi—”
“Everything’s fine, Vice Principal,” Cheerilee seized the opportunity to speak up, much to Savoir’s visible aggravation. “It’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, I can assure you.”
“I… okay?”
“Besides,” she continued as she turned away. “I’m sure you have your administrative duties to tend to. It would be really unfair of us to keep you here, especially when you’re not needed right now, don’t you think so, Savoir?”
“Chér, what did I tell you about being—”
“It’s alright,” Sunburst spoke up before the other stallion could interfere, his tone surprisingly composed in spite of her sardonic comments. “Listen, I know you feel like we’ve wronged you somehow. The last time we met, we could’ve settled things properly then, I knew we could’ve. We just got caught up in the things we’re saying to each other, and it… it just…”
A heavy-hearted sigh left his lips.
“It doesn’t feel good, what we’ve done to you. It never did,” he confessed wearily. “I know Starlight wouldn’t admit it if she was here instead of me, she’s too proud for that, but you should know she feels the same way as well. We didn’t mean for any of that to happen. Honest. And if I can do anything right now to help you, to get things back to the way they were—”
“Okay, stop.”
“Miss Cheerilee?”
“Just stop. Stop. I get it now. I know what you’re doing.” The pseudo-friendly façade she had cluelessly stitched together was all but gone. The fatigue, the frustration, the migraine bubbling in her cranium—everything finally spilled over. “Seriously, it’s almost sweet of you? This whole tearjerker of yours? I’m sure you could woo over any other mare in this town with it if you tried hard enough but really, I’m not at all interested in whatever scheme you’re trying to push onto me.”
“Miss Cheerilee, I just want to put this behind us.”
“I’ve already done that for the three of us, Vice Principal. I don’t need you to do it for me. Never did.”
“I just don’t think that what you’re doing is the best way out of this,” Sunburst implored. “You can’t seriously expect to avoid us forever, can you?”
“I can, actually. I’ve been doing it all this time, in fact. And were it not for Mister Just-Trying-To-Be-A-Good-Dad over here, I would be doing exactly that right now and we wouldn’t be having this pointless conversation. If anything, coming away from this little chit-chat, what I’ve learned not to expect, Vice Principal Sunburst, is for you to get with the program. I mean, Principal Starlight seems to be doing a pretty good job at it, all things considered.”
“And I always tell her how wrong she is to do that.” One last sigh from him, one bright and beautiful with resignation, defeat, and despair. “It’s good to see you again, Miss Cheerilee. I mean it. Sorry for keeping you.”
Goodwill.
That was all that Sunburst had left her with. A show of goodwill, second-rate as masquerades go. Frankly, this whole farce of his was well within her expectations. Cheerilee knew long ago that to expect anything more from him would only further lead to disappointment, so she chose not to expect at all. For goodwill was all that the vice principal had on his sleeve from the very beginning. None of the confidence to back it up, none of the courage to see those sentiments realised. Just goodwill, bleeding from the chest and the lips, empty as ever, and nothing else.
“Tell me now, was all that bad-mouthing really necessary?”
Likewise, Savoir Fare. The other side of the same coin, the one you get when you trade away all that goodwill for loathing and lemon drop martinis. “I never wanted to be part of that conversation in the first place,” Cheerilee asserted. “I wouldn’t have come here at all if I knew you were going to have me meet him.”
Savoir snorted. “I didn’t bring you here to meet the vice principal, I brought you here to pick up my daughter.”
“Because you couldn’t do it yourself.”
“Because there will be times where I might need you to do it for me.”
Cheerilee paused, blinking in disbelief as she registered what he had just said. “Savoir, last I checked with you, I’m supposed to be her tutor, not her caretaker.”
“Wait, tutor?”
“Only as a last resort,” Savoir clarified. “I’m not asking you to do it every day, Chér. It’s just that there are times where I have to go around the local distributors to replenish my stock. It's why I was running a little late today, in fact. Always scalping his prices, Monsieur Grey Goose, ce branleur.”
“Wait, whaddaya mean tutor?”
“Amazing. Just amazing.” From the bottom of her throat, a coarse chuckle. “Seriously, what’s next? Do I have to take her to the school in the mornings as well? Need me to clean her room for you while I’m at it?”
“Papa, what’s she talking about?”
“Celestia’s sake, Chér, what do you take me for?”
“And what do you take me for?” Cheerilee snapped back. “You’re okay with letting her run around town with a wooden sword in her make-believe joyrides but faint at the slightest idea of having her walk home from school all by herself?”
“Papa, what’s going on?”
“Honestly, at this point, I’d rather you be frank and tell me that you wanted me to foalsit her all along,” she continued. “I’m sure the ponies who’ve written in complaints about her would appreciate something along those lines. About time you have somepony rein in her antics anyway.”
“I can take care of her myself, thank you very much.” There was a certain edge that came with those words, as though Savoir had taken offense to what she had just insinuated, just as intended. “Look, bottom line is, I won’t ask you to do something if you wouldn’t do it. After all, it’s not like I’m asking you to do this every day. It’s just that on certain days, she needs to have somepony with her, that’s all. And if I can’t make it, then I’ll have to count on you to accompany her.”
“Accompany her? With what?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
A single laugh, bitter as bitter could be. “You were never even going to try.”
“It’s just a lot easier to show you. For now, you just have to trust me, alright? I know this all might seem very suspicious right now but once you see it for what it is, you’d—aaahh!”
The yelp Savoir elicited came as Fuschia prodded him in the hip with a sharp stick between gritted teeth, one which she immediately spat out once she finally had his attention. The neglected filly was pouting by the time both adults regarded her, the dark lines of discontent growing more and more pronounced on her forehead as she glared up at them with bulbous cheeks.
“You promised!” she squeaked.
For a brief moment, Savoir did nothing but stare at her. “Promised what?” he had to ask.
“You said I won’t be getting another tutor anymore!”
Somehow, it was of no surprise to Cheerilee that Savoir neglected to tell his daughter anything about their arrangement, much in the same way he was hiding every nook and cranny about the filly from her as well. All his pompous philosophising of right times and right places had always rubbed her the wrong way, as if it could in practice somehow separate the wheat from the chaff. As such, she was content to just stand back and look on with a slight curve at the very edge of her lips, while the bartender sighed and closed his eyes before taking a deep breath.
“You promised, dintcha?” Fuschia's shrill voice fluctuated in time with her insistent, almost forceful hopping. “You did, you did, you did, you promised!”
“I did, yes, but—”
“You admit it! You see? You admit it, you’re wrong, I knew it!”
“Fuschia, dear, do you remember what we’ve talked about exactly?” he asked. “Word for word?”
“Of course!” Fuschia stood up onto the tip of her hooves with a confident grin. “You said you won’t be getting me another tutor anymore!”
“If?”
And just like that, everything fell apart. Everything screeched to a grinding halt.
The filly opened her mouth, only to close it.
Then she opened it again. Only to close it once more.
In the end, Fuschia was left with no choice but to cast a pleading look towards the only other pony in her immediate vicinity besides her father for reasons beyond Cheerilee’s imagination. Yet as formidable as those pink, pearlescent puppy eyes were, Cheerilee knew better than to interfere, simply responding with a tepid shrug instead.
“Sweetheart, I promised you that you will never get another tutor only as long as you’ve passed your tests, remember?” Savoir pushed forward in spite of his daughter’s stubborn silence. “Well, the vice principal gave me your test scores recently. You know what I found?”
“Wait, Vice Principal Sunburst did?” Fuschia gasped in utter shock, whirling around with a steely glare towards the school’s windows. “That traitor!”
“Call him whatever you want, that still doesn’t change the fact that you tried to hide your test scores from me,” came his stern warning, one that immediately made the filly wilt away from his gaze. “It takes one to know one, you know? Pot calling the kettle black. The only difference between you two is that in this instance, Vice Principal Sunburst was just doing his job.”
“I... I didn’t want to make you sad, Papa!”
“I’m only sad because you did that, dear.” Savoir’s words only seemed to have made her shrink further into her own shadow. “Remind me now, what was Miss Applejack’s lesson about again?”
Fuschia pursed her lips, her downward gaze unwavering. Her words sullenly dribbled out soon after.
“Lyremmmwuhnervzlferprrms…”
“Now, now, I know you can definitely do better than that. Come on. What did Miss Applejack teach you?”
A sigh. “Miss Applejack taught me that lying will never solve our problems, and that it’ll only come back meaner and scarier than it was before.”
“There we go! That wasn’t so hard!” Savoir chuckled, wrapping the filly into a hug she clearly wasn’t enthused about. Likewise, Cheerilee couldn’t help but roll her eyes, a part of her in disbelief at him referring to the so-called lesson of honesty without even the tiniest shred of irony. “Now you understand why I brought Miss Cheerilee with me today, don’t you?”
Fuschia’s answer to that was nothing more than a garbled mix of muffled grumbles.
“And she’s not just any tutor, Fuschia. She’s the best of the best! All to help little old you to finally beat back those pesky tests with flying colours, once and for all!”
His cheesy demeanor was met with a groan. Cheerilee wasn’t sure if it came from the filly or from the voice in her head.
Savoir sighed. “Fuschia, why don’t you just give her a chance, hmm?” he softly asked, craning his neck down towards her. “I know she can help you with the things you’re stuck with now. Maybe with other things that you could be stuck with that you don’t know about yet. Who knows? Maybe she could help you get unstuck! Don’t you want that? Or maybe, just maybe—”
Cheerilee should’ve known.
She should’ve known what was coming. From the moment he talked to Fuschia—nay, maybe even from the very start, the very first second that he offered her the job, Cheerilee had that nagging suspicion about what Savoir’s true motives really were. She should’ve realised from the start that it couldn’t have been that simple, for nothing about the way he approaches things had ever been simple, especially when those things involved her one way or another. Thus, by the time she opened her mouth to object to being a puppet for those ideals of his that she would deem asinine, it was already too late.
“—maybe you could be her friend too.”
Fuschia’s ears perked up at that word. That all-too-special word. From the confines of her father’s chest, she slowly glanced up to meet his warm grin. “Really?”
“Really,” Savoir answered, ignoring the intimidating glare coming from the mare that was standing there and watching it all happen on her behalf without her say. “So just give her a chance, alright? Give her a chance to teach you. After all, it would be mean to tell her not to after she came all the way just to see you here, wouldn’t it?”
“I… I think so.”
“I know so. Now then,” Savoir encouraged with a light tap on her shoulder. “Go say hello.”
Gently extricating herself from her father’s hug, Fuschia Fresh reluctantly cantered up to Cheerilee, who had no choice but to regard her in the wake of what Savoir had wrought. For the first time, or at least for the first time in a proper-enough fashion, the teacher and the student could finally look at each other, uncertainty lingering between wary gazes and intermingling silence as each of them tried to think of something to say to the other.
A long minute later, one of them finally came through. It didn’t matter if it was Cheerilee or Fuschia that stepped forward first—what mattered was that in the moment, one of them came through. One of them glumly made their move that the other half-heartedly reciprocated. It was, in the grander scheme of things, all that was needed. The rest of the pieces came together, as they say, like honeybees to a flower.
“Fuh… Fuschia! M-My name is Fuschia! Fuschia Fresh!” the filly shakily introduced herself, knees nervously rubbing against each other. “Papa, he says that you can help me.”
“Miss Cheerilee,” the mare proceeded with a prudence she long believed she had lost to the bottles of hard liquor somewhere along the way. “I don’t know how he thinks I’d help. I'll be trying my best to though. I think I can do that much.”
“O… okay...” Fuschia whimpered, crestfallen. “I hope Papa’s right. I hope you can help me.”
Cheerilee exhaled, even as her cold, hard gaze fell onto the stallion gleefully watching them from the sidelines. The one that all too candidly lumped them together in the first place without even an attempt at a second guess.
I hope so too.
.
