The first day of school was always the worst.
Vinyl Scratch zipped through the halls of Canterlot High at an easy pace that no one else could keep up with. It not only kept other people from talking to her, but it also helped her be the first one to get into class. Which, of course, was especially important today.
So many things to take care of, before the other students started filing in. Stake out the center seat, front row. Talk with the teacher, make sure they’d gotten the notes from her parents and Vice Principal Luna. Make sure they understood what the notes meant, and believed them.
Ms. Scratch’s accommodations include having all films shown with subtitles or closed captions (see documentation, enclosed). She will also need access to class notes, and while arrangements can be made for a note taker from among her classmates, if your lecture notes could be shared that would be ideal.
Please always face the front of the class while lecturing. Additionally, never call on her to speak or answer questions if her hand isn’t raised.
Above all, please respect this note’s confidentiality and Ms. Scratch’s privacy. Please contact the office immediately if you have any questions, now or at any point during the semester.
She always got there first, so she could have The Talk without anyone else around. None of her classmates needed to hear her speak; even after years of speech therapy, she was well aware that her pronunciation would give her away. Just like she always wore her hair long, over her ears and down below her shoulders.
People always treated you differently if they knew.
Then, once class was over, it would be time to zip through the halls again. Time to stake out the next seat, talk to the next teacher, steeling herself all the while for possible looks, awkward questions, and assumptions.
So far, Mr. Doodle had been the best. When Vinyl had started her Sophomore year, even Ms. Luna had given her a sympathetic look that might have bordered on pity. But when Vinyl had talked to the math teacher shortly afterwards, he’d just given her a curt nod, a gruff ‘Let me know if you need anything,’ and gotten on with teaching class. Even with her accommodations – which he’d never forgotten – she’d been just another student to him. This year, she’d bent most of her schedule around taking him again.
The only class that wasn’t negotiable in light of Mr. Doodle’s class was orchestra. Fortunately, there hadn’t been any conflict between them.
As a child, Vinyl had planned on going to college, majoring in music, and becoming a professional musician. Maybe teaching music on the side while she waited for her big break. But otosclerosis had been hardening her ear drums since birth, such that even cochlear implants wouldn’t help. There had been a doctor in Manehattan who had offered an experimental procedure, transplanting new eardrums from a corpse… but since the risk was complete and immediate deafness, she’d decided to wait until she had nothing left to lose.
So, as her hearing loss had continued to advance, she’d ultimately set aside her childhood plans. Even as her hearing aids continued to get larger, even as she’d moved further and further back in the violin section each year.
Today, Vinyl got to orchestra class even earlier than usual. She knew there would be no problems there; Mr. Sandwich knew her pretty well. But the busier she could look, the more already involved with something she could be, the more the rest of the class would hopefully leave her alone.
The other students started filing in as she unpacked her violin, chatting happily as they did. Some of them were serious musicians – a few were looking at playing professionally, and one already had a scholarship lined up – but most were just dabbling. A few that she knew from middle school waved, and she smiled and waved back. That was fine. She knew they would give her space, and they knew to leave her be.
Then Sunset Shimmer walked in, and the room fell quiet in her shadow.
Vinyl ducked her head down as she fine-tuned her violin, hoping to stay beneath the queen bee’s radar. Mercifully, Sunset just took in the room with her usual smirk, and claimed her traditional seat in the front of the violin section, facing away from Vinyl and the rest of the section.
Just two more years, Vinyl thought. Two more years of this, and I’m gone.
Vinyl was just warming up with some scales when something made her look up again. She was never sure exactly what. All she knew was that for some reason she glanced up, and found herself looking into the deepest violet eyes she had ever seen.
In that moment, everything seemed to stop. For the first time in her life, Vinyl found herself staring at someone else. Meanwhile, the other girl also seemed held, even thunderstruck, standing silently beside Vinyl’s seat.
Then, the familiar rapping of a director’s baton on a metal stand broke the spell. The violet-eyed girl smiled a quick apology and slipped over to the cello section where she belonged, and Vinyl spent the rest of class burying herself in warm-ups, chair selection, and the first day’s rehearsal.
As soon as class ended, Vinyl packed up her violin with record speed, shooting out of the classroom like a bullet. She just made out a ‘Wait…’ which might or might not have been the cellist with the violet eyes. But it didn’t matter. The rest of the student body was used to Vinyl Scratch being silent. She would get used to it, too. The last thing that Vinyl needed was another student to hear her talk, and maybe be the one who would out her to the entire school as being disabled.
The next few days were a little awkward in orchestra class, with the violet-eyed girl trying to seek out contact with Vinyl whenever she could. But after those few days, she stopped. Vinyl felt a little mixed about that – she didn’t like the thought of hurting anyone else’s feelings – but mostly she was relieved. Probably some of her classmates had talked with the cellist and she’d just moved on to other things. Which was best for all concerned, really.
And besides, Vinyl wasn’t curious about the grey girl with the violet eyes at all. There was nothing at all interesting about the way she flipped her long, raven-colored hair sometimes when she spoke, or the way her eyes shone when she laughed. Certainly there was nothing special about the passion she showed in her playing. And that little bow tie she wore was most distinctly not cute at all.
Vinyl was perfectly happy with things the way they were.
Perfectly, utterly, completely happy.
Whenever Vinyl could, she would DJ at parties on the weekends. It was, point of fact, the only way she would attend any gathering. Not only did being in the booth protect her from unwanted conversation, but her headphones allowed her to hear the music perfectly, which was a distinct win-win.
Plus, she got to improv new mixes, reminding her audience from time to time that her keyboard was also a synthesizer, her turn tables an instrument in their own right, and that she was still, above all, a musician. Drums, brass, winds, strings, electric bass and guitar… she had her own private orchestra, all at her fingertips. As DJ Pon-3 she’d already gotten a reputation as a master juggler, and her own compositions were also starting to get some attention. And sometimes, just sometimes, she would get a text or an email wondering if she could DJ a formal affair.
This time, it was a wedding. It was only her second paying gig, and a pretty sweet deal for a high school junior. The booth was a section of stage in the rented auditorium, stage left, with the MC’s mic in center stage and plenty of happy celebrants on the floor. The cake had been cut, and speeches made. There was nothing left but to run through the short playlist the bride’s father had wanted, take a few requests, and maybe play a few of her own works in-between.
She was just starting a jazzy little improv number when she spotted the girl with the violet eyes on the floor. White skirt and dark jacket against her grey skin, midnight hair held back in a neat ponytail, and that adorable bow tie. How long the girl had been there, staring up at her, Vinyl had no idea. But from behind her shades, she stared back in shock.
The girl bit her lip. Exhaled. While Vinyl brought in the drums and brass, still staring, the girl gave Vinyl a look of pure determination.
Then, without warning, she quickly clambered up onto the stage.
The dancers were still happily moving to the beat, and Vinyl didn’t dare call attention to what was happening. Feeling trapped, she watched, hands working the controls automatically as the girl went to the mic.
And then, just as Vinyl hit an introductory decrescendo, giving a pause in the music’s flow, the girl started to sing in time to the gentle back beat Vinyl had inadvertently given her.
The girl’s alto voice fit the tone perfectly, inviting, alluring, tempting without being sultry. She sang smiling, eyes closed, feeling her way through the tune. The lyrics she made were a call to dance, to swing, to feel the music and join in, to bend the knees and give the jazz time its due.
On sheer reflex, Vinyl hit a background of voices to briefly counterpoint the girl’s lyrics, keeping the percussion low to further compliment the tune she wove.
More percussion. Now, some winds.
Then, as Vinyl brought the tune into a suspense, the girl flashed her a grin. Grabbing the microphone from its stand, the girl took a quick breath…
And then she by God sang.
Her new lyrics were fast, glorious, and full of life. Before, she had invited her listeners to dance; now her singing demanded it. On the floor, more guests joined in the dance, swinging, twirling, laughing.
Vinyl brought in more horns to back the girl up, then a crescendo of brass to compliment the new verse’s energy. Right on beat, the girl finished up the verse, holding its last note as she glanced Vinyl’s way.
Vinyl caught the cue. Starting with an interlude of winds and another brass crescendo, she folded it back into a refrain.
Again, the girl fell into that soft voice she’d used at first, crooning again her initial invitation to the crowd. But the tone was slightly different now, the temptation revealed.
Vinyl worked more energy into the new refrain, arcing and twining her instruments around the melody that the girl had established.
A few quick measures of soft electronic woodwinds for transition, and the girl hit the verse again with all the jump she’d had before.
But Vinyl was ready this time, and brought in a full band’s worth of instruments to back the girl’s play. Brass, sax, percussion and winds. Then, when that verse ended, Vinyl shifted the tone of the song, bringing in upright bells and more flutes and reeds, building the song into a spiraling tower of sound even as she folded it into a coda of high energy and higher spirit.
Yet, even as she did, she saw the girl gently replace the mic.
Despite herself, Vinyl felt a pang. The song wasn’t done yet. Surely she wasn’t leaving?
But no. While the music was building, the girl pulled her hair out from its holder, shook her mane free.
And then… she began to dance.
There was nothing complicated about what she did on stage then, while Vinyl worked the instruments beneath her hands. There was nothing highly trained or deliberately enticing about how she moved. She simply moved with the song, inventing her dance even as Vinyl invented the tune she danced to, plainly in love with the music and all it conveyed. She immersed herself in it, let it move through her even as she moved along with it, celebrating it in pure adoration and joy.
It was, without exception, the single most beautiful thing that Vinyl had ever seen.
Then, Vinyl finished the interlude. The girl took the mic and sang again, fast and joyfully, keeping that energy up as they went through the final verse and into the final coda. Finally, as the girl let her last note drift and fade, Vinyl brought the song to a close, fading out with the same instruments she’d started with, giving the tune as much resolution as it was ever going to need.
She barely registered the applause. The girl was bowing and getting ready to leave, to vanish into the crowd of guests. Without thinking, Vinyl stood and rushed over to the girl, grabbed her by the arm, turned her around.
She heard herself ask, “Who are you?”
Then, she froze, horrified, half-covering her mouth. Her voice had betrayed her. She released the girl, stepping back, her other arm still outstretched.
But the girl only smiled, still aglow from dancing and from the song they had created together.
“Octavia,” she said.
Taking a small card out, she placed it into Vinyl’s open hand. “Text me sometime, okay?”
Then she hopped off the stage, and was gone.
The first days of summer were the best.
Vinyl strolled leisurely through Canterlot Mall, window shopping here and there. Late in her senior year the offers had started really picking up, and it looked like DJ Pon-3 was well on her way to night club stardom. Up through spring, she’d had to keep her gigs limited to the weekends for obvious reasons. But that was behind her now. Now it was three months of lazy days, hot nights, and plenty of outdoor gigs in-between. By the time midsummer rolled around, she’d be making enough to cover her half of the rent, easily.
Then she smiled to herself. They’d be signing the lease in a couple of weeks, and moving in a few weeks after that. Vinyl knew she should be nervous, even apprehensive. But somehow that just wasn’t going to happen. All she could feel was elated.
Because, yeah. This was right.
Vinyl wiped at her forehead. Even with air conditioning, the mall’s crowds kept the place pretty warm. Times like this, she was glad for the short hair she’d been wearing for the last year or so. Granted, sometimes, when she had her earphones off, people could see her hearing aids. Like now, when it was too hot to keep her ears covered all the time. And yeah, sometimes people treated her differently when they knew.
But, well, screw those people.
She turned when she felt the tap on her shoulder, her features breaking into a grin. Then Vinyl’s arms went around the woman she adored, breathing in the scent of her exquisitely soft, raven-colored mane.
“Hey,” she sighed happily.
Octavia returned the embrace with a glad smile. “Hey yourself,” she said.
After a moment, the two were walking side by side through the mall. They meandered in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. But despite Octavia’s obvious overall contentment, Vinyl could tell she was increasingly distracted by something.
Finally, Vinyl caught her eye, gave an inquisitive tilt of her head.
“Oh, it’s nothing major.” Octavia gave a nervous smile. “It’s just, well, I got a call from Sunset a little while ago.”
Vinyl spread her hands out as they walked, as if to say, Aaaaand?
“Well, it seems she and Twilight are engaged,” Octavia went on uncertainly. “And while that’s not exactly a shock, they were wondering if we might stop by next Sunday for the celebration. Not to perform or DJ or anything, just to hang out for however long we might want. I told her I wasn’t sure if we’d be free...”
By now, Vinyl was grinning. Putting her arm around Octavia’s shoulders, she kissed her on the cheek.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she said.
Author's Note
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This story was inspired by two events.
The first is the song Lone Digger, by Caravan Palace. You can find a work-friendly, suitable-for-all-ages video for it below:
The second is a beautiful young lady and brilliant musician who I met through literature and music, years ago. However, this story is purely a work of fiction. And wherever she may be today, I wish her only the very best.
This timeline continues with A Smashing Good Time.
