“Calm down, fillies and colts!” Miss Cherilee cried, straining to be heard over the scrum of little ponies squabbling for glue-sticks and coloured card. “I can promise you that there will be enough craft supplies for everypony to make the Father’s Day card of their dreams!”
Scootaloo sat at her desk; the only stationary filly in the whole classroom. Her head rested on her hoof and she was staring fixedly out of the small window. The sky was blue outside, a clear day. Good weather for flying; or as a close second, for riding a scooter, the wind in your wings and your tail streaming behind you. If she leaned over just the right amount, she could make out the familiar blue shape of her scooter, warped a little by the thick pane of glass. Yes, it would be a good day for riding. There was nothing like scootering for blowing the gloom right out of your head, leaving nothing but bright pure sunshine and the clean smell of summer.
“I got it!” Sweetie Belle’s head erupted from the wriggling mass of foals, pulling Scootaloo’s attention over to her to the front of the schoolhouse. Sweetie’s pink-and-purple curls were ruffled and mussed beyond recognition, but her eyes sparkled with triumph. The green glow of her magic was wrapped tightly around a piece of glittery pink card.
“You cheated,” hissed Diamond Tiara’s unseen voice, and she burst out from the crowd behind Sweetie Belle, aiming a savage kick at the unicorn’s hindquarters.
Sweetie Belle staggered but kept her eyes focused on the levitating card. It was clear that she didn’t intend to lose it now. “I won it fair and square!” she said sharply, trotting back to her desk.
“Everypony saw you snatch it from me,” snarled Diamond Tiara. She turned to the slowly settling crowd behind her for support. “Didn’t you, Silver Spoon?”
There was no answer but the grunts and scuffles of the foals still hunched over the craft supplies box. Miss Cheeriliee was floating ineffectually in the background, her hoof-wringing and vague remonstrations ignored universally.
Sweetie Belle settled herself back beside Scootaloo, who gave a half-hearted smile and bumped Sweetie’s proffered hoof. “Good job,” she said limply, before letting her gaze slide blankly back to the window. There was a little cloud scudding across the horizon.
“Silver Spoon!” Diamond Tiara repeated insistently. Sweetie Belle ignored her and began sketching out a shape on her sparkling prize.
“Give them back!” somepony shrieked, and Silver Spoon staggered at last into view. Apple Bloom followed close behind, Silver Spoon’s braid gripped tightly between her teeth. Silver Spoon grimaced and swatted at Apple Bloom, trying to keep the set of markers she held safely out of reach.
Scootaloo watched as the cloud drifted across the patch of blue sky. The rear side of the cloud was wispy and beginning to fragment. As the cloud neared the edge of the window, a little chunk of it broke off. The original cloud continued out of sight, beyond the window’s range of view, and the tiny newborn cloud was left behind, drifting alone in a sea of blue. Huh, Scootaloo thought. Just like me.
A morose Apple Bloom blocked her view then, plodding her way back to her seat, her meagre stash of supplies in her mouth. From across the room, Silver Spoon stuck out her tongue to blow a loud raspberry and waved the box of markers in the air.
Apple Bloom threw herself into her chair and harrumphed in disgust. “Ugh. Ah can’t believe she snuck up on me like that.”
Reluctantly, Scootaloo turned her gaze away from the lonely little cloud and her beloved scooter and forced herself to summon a sympathetic expression for her friend. “Sorry, Apple Bloom.”
“Yeah, never mind,” added Sweetie Belle. “I got this off Diamond Tiara, at least.” She brandished the pink sparkly card at them.
Apple Bloom’s face brightened and she snatched the card from Sweetie Belle. “Hey, Silver Spoon!” she called.
Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara turned as one, like the two-headed hellhound Scootaloo knew they were, and Apple Bloom pulled her ugliest face and waved the sparkly card in the air. “Nyeh nyeh — sucks for y’all!”
Apple Bloom and Sweetie collapsed in giggles as Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara’s faces soured. With an effort, Scootaloo summoned a wavering smile to her own muzzle.
“Children! Settle down!” Over at the front of the classroom, Miss Cheerilee was finally managing to restore some semblance of order. The survivors of the fight were limping away, their spoils clutched close to their chests. The vanquished lay where they had fallen among the soiled cards and snapped pencil crayons.
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom both settled down to crafting their cards. Sweetie was cutting out some sort of complicated pop-up structure, and Apple Bloom was colouring her entire piece of card red. Scootaloo observed this operation in silence for a few minutes, and eventually Apple Bloom looked up and noticed her watching. At Scootaloo’s questioning glance, she explained: “All the red card was plum gone by the time Ah got to it — and Ah know Big Mac’ll love a card that looks like him.”
“And my Daddy loved the pink sparkly suit Rarity got him for Hearth’s Warming last year,” Sweetie Belle said. “Or at least, he told us he did. But he also always tells us that he never lies and that honesty is important — so I’m going to give him a pink card covered in sparkles.” She gave a little snort of laughter. “How about you, Scoots? What’re you going to send your dad this year?”
Scootaloo sighed and lowered her head onto her crossed hooves. “I dunno, guys. It’s been months since I’ve even seen him or Mom.”
She didn’t miss the concerned glance Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle exchanged over her head. Sweetie placed a sympathetic hoof on her shoulder. “Oh, Scootaloo, I’m really sorry—” she started, but Scootaloo shook her off.
“No, never mind.” She pushed her chair back and got to her hooves. “It doesn’t matter.” At any rate, Father’s Day didn’t matter to her father. She was pretty sure every filly across the whole of Equestria would spend tomorrow with their dad — or big brother, like Apple Bloom did — but Scootaloo’s own Dad couldn’t even be bothered to come back from Shire Lanka for one measly day. Just like he and Mom hadn’t bothered on Hearth’s Warming, Nightmare Night, Winter Wrap Up, or any of the other holidays that Scootaloo had to spend alone. Even her own birthday, for Celestia’s sake. Aunt Lofty and Aunt Holiday tried, she knew they did, but it just…wasn’t the same as having real parents. Even Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo’s favourite pony in the whole world, didn’t get it. Rainbow’s parents loved her. When Scootaloo had tried to talk to Rainbow about it the previous year, Rainbow’s solution had been to invite her to Father’s Day dinner with her own parents. Listening Bow Hothoof talk about about how proud he was of his Wonderbolt daughter for a whole two hours had been excruciating. Every word just dug the knife of Scootaloo’s own abandoned state that little bit deeper.
Her friends were no help either. Sweetie Belle had a perfectly normal and loving family. And while Apple Bloom had no parents, everypony knew that they had loved her more than anything. Besides, she had Applejack and Big Mac, who were almost as good as parents anyhow. Though she would never say so to Apple Bloom, Scootaloo felt that it was much worse for her. Apple Bloom’s parents had loved her and hadn’t wanted to leave. But Scootaloo’s parents couldn’t care less about her, and had palmed her off on her aunts the first chance they had. And aside from some very brief visits, they had never come back. Holidays like Father’s Day and Mother’s Day…they just stung. It compounded the rejection, hammered the nails a little deeper in the coffin every year. Scootaloo wondered if she would ever reach the point where it didn’t matter to her any more. She didn’t expect them to show up, of course — she was long past that point — but every time, she was still disappointed.
But of course, everypony else in the whole class had somepony to make cards for, so that was the activity they were doing. A couple of years ago on Mother’s Day Scootaloo had tried kicking up a fuss and refusing to make a card. Cheerilee had gently but firmly insisted that she make a card to post to her mother, as well as one for each of her aunts. She had been forced to stay in the schoolhouse at break until they were finished. If she tried it again this year it would only end the same way.
She dragged herself up to the front of the classroom, where the craft supplies box rested on the floor in front of Miss Cheerilee’s desk. Scootaloo reared onto her hind legs and hooked her front hooves over the side of the box to peer in. There was nothing left but a few sheets of plain white card, one marked with a muddy hoofprint, and a single red crayon. Scootaloo shrugged. It seemed roughly the reward her Dad’s parenting skills deserved. She dipped her neck into the box and scooped up the crayon and a piece of card in her jaws. She made sure to pick the one with the hoofprint. Let her parents interpret that how they would. Knowing them, they probably wouldn’t even notice.
She slumped back into her chair and looked at her materials. She glanced over at each of her friends’ desks. Sweetie Belle’s pink card had become a towering pop-up monstrosity of a castle, almost as tall as Sweetie herself. Scootaloo wondered how in Equestria Sweetie had managed to make that out of a single sheet of card. Apple Bloom was still carefully colouring her white card red.
Scootaloo sighed and folded her own piece of card roughly in half. She picked up the crayon in her jaws and wrote on the front of it. ‘Father’s Day’. Stating a fact, nice and simple. No ‘happy Father’s Day’ for him. It was satisfying, in a vindictive sort of way. She opened the card and repeated the message inside. ‘To Dad — It is Father’s Day. — From Scootaloo.’ He didn’t deserve a ‘love from’ either.
For the rest of the lesson she sat in silence, staring over Apple Bloom’s bent head at the comforting blurred blue shape of her scooter. There it was, leaning against the fence. Her one constant companion.
When Miss Cheerilee finally rang the bell to dismiss the class, colts and fillies streamed out to either side of Scootaloo, galloping home, their cards wedged into envelopes and borne proudly in their teeth or under a wing. Scootaloo imagined each of her classmates pulled onto their father’s laps, thanked and praised for their gifts, basking in the warm glow of parental attention and affection. She sighed and mounted her scooter. Her own card was crumpled in the bottom of her bag. She thought she would probably find a stream and throw it away. Celestia knew, the stream would probably be more grateful for it than her father would be.
A gentle touch on her back stopped her before she could start to buzz her wings. She turned, and saw Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle standing behind her, concern writ large on their faces.
She waved a hoof. “I’ll be fine, girls, honestly.”
Apple Bloom’s expression brightened instantly. She nodded and turned to go. “Good! Just come to the clubhouse if you need us this weekend!” She brandished the brilliant red card she held. “Ah can’t wait to see Big Mac’s face when he opens this! Ah’ve planned us a whole day of apple-buckin’ and racin’ tomorrow!”
Sweetie Belle lingered. “Are you sure, Scootaloo?”
Scootaloo shrugged. “It happens every year, Sweetie. I’m used to it. Honestly, I’ll be fine.” Before Sweetie Belle could object again, she thrummed her wings into motion and sped away. She just didn’t want to talk to anypony else today.
Scootaloo headed for the forest, eager to escape concerned friends and aunts alike. She just wanted to burn her stupid card in peace, or throw it in the river, or stamp on it. Or whatever she decided to do to it. She just wanted to do it alone, without anyone trying to sympathise or help.
She buzzed her wings as fast as she could, until the sound began to hurt her ears, and her whole body got hot with exertion. She leaned into the bends and tried to build up as much speed as she could. Who cared if her eyes were watering, when it was just the wind that was causing it?
“Hey!” A distant voice rang out from above. “Hey, Scoots!”
Scootaloo ignored it. Everypony could go to Tartarus today. She wanted some peace.
“Hey, Scoots!” The voice called again, louder now.
Scootaloo increased her speed.
“Scoots!” Wingbeats ruffled the fur on her cheeks.
She narrowed her eyes. “Go away!”
Hooves fastened on either side of her barrel, and suddenly she was in the air. Instinctively, she clutched her scooter close to her. “Hey!”
“Well, you weren’t stopping!”
Scootaloo finally looked up. Familiar pink eyes grinned down at her, beneath a rainbow-streaked mane. “Aw, Rainbow — today’s not a good day.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Rainbow parried, a laugh in her voice. “So I’ve made some arrangements to change your mind.”
Scootaloo snorted and hung limp as the ground receded beneath them. Her scooter hung from her hooves.
Rainbow Dash carried them higher and higher, her wings strong and confident, every flap sending them surging through the air. Usually Scootaloo found these trips thrilling, the highlight of her week. They made her feel like she could almost fly herself. But today it just felt like added salt in the wound. Not only did she have no father, she also had no wings. Her life was just…well, it was a mess. She closed her eyes to the beautiful vista below, stubbornly determined not to enjoy it. Not today. Rainbow seemed to sense her mood, and didn’t push the conversation any further.
At length, her flight pattern changed, and she began to backwing. Scootaloo opened her eyes just as Rainbow Dash dropped her with a soft poof onto the waiting cloud below.
Scootaloo turned to Rainbow, a reprimand ready again on her tongue, but it wilted and died when she saw the older pegasus.
Rainbow was standing atop a red-and-white checkered blanket, and laid out on it was a huge spread of food. Hay fritters, two apple burgers, and a whole basket of sandwiches, each with a different filling. All Scootaloo’s favourite foods. There were even a dozen cupcakes iced purple and orange.
Tears suddenly filled Scootaloo’s eyes. “Rainbow, what—?”
Rainbow shifted uncertainly and offered a weak smile. “Well, I know you don’t like Father’s Day — remember you nearly killed me with that plate you threw at me after dinner last year? So this year, I thought — well — I thought — happy Father’s Day from your Rainbow Dad, kiddo.” She looked hopefully into Scootaloo’s eyes, trying to read her expression.
For a couple of heartbeats, Scootaloo was silent. Then her face broke into a huge, painful, watery smile, and she launched herself at Rainbow. Rainbow beamed back and flung her forelegs wide, and Scootaloo buried her face in Rainbow’s shoulder and let her watery sobs soak into the soft blue feathers. “Oh Rainbow, thank you! Thank you!”
The two ponies rested side by side, watching the sun set. As Scootaloo lay on the pillow-soft cloud, munching on hay fritters beside her Rainbow Dad, the parent she had always wanted and had never known she had. The opened and appreciated card lay on the cloud beside them, and a sense of deep satisfaction filled her soul. It might not be the perfect father’s day —it could have gone better — but it definitely could have been worse.
