“Ehh.” Sunny Flare made a big deal of not caring what was going on around her. She glanced at Pinkie, grinning like a maniac, then at Lemon Zest, also grinning like a maniac, then finally looked at Sugarcoat herself. “Truth, I guess,” she announced, as dignified as anyone wearing pajama bottoms could be.
Sugarcoat couldn’t ask the main thing she wanted to ask, obviously, but she had a different idea, anyway. She grinned snidely, and, as nicely as she could, she asked, “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”
Rainbow Dash laughed. Sunny’s exaggerated boredom had been a source of ribbing since the sleepover started, but no one had challenged her so directly on it.
“Ugh,” she muttered, relishing the spotlight despite everything. “...Yes. I guess. This is fun. Fine.” She crossed her arms poutily and sighed. “It’s still a missed opportunity. We come over here with Twilight’s parents out of town, but no one brings any booze?”
“Aww, I know, that’d be really fun,” Sour Sweet agreed. “And it’s a really smart idea, too, since our principal is chaperoning us.”
“She’s downstairs!” Sunny argued. “We can be sneaky about it and yes I just realized Pinkie and Lemon Zest are here so never mind.”
“Um.” The weird, quiet, green-haired girl, Wallflower, spoke up. “I… didn’t bring any alcohol, but. Um. I did bring... Uh. I mean, in case anyone wants to. I have…”
“Nope!” Sunset interrupted, somehow without scaring the shy girl at all. “Not in Twilight’s room; the smell will never get out of the carpet.”
“Aw, crap,” Lemon Zest grunted. But she grinned at Wallflower, “Who’s your hookup?”
“Uh. I grew it myself.”
“Whaaaaat!” She threw her phone across the room; Wallflower let out a terrified peep and covered her face as it hit the wall behind her and fell to the floor. “Put your number in there! We’re totally gonna be pals.”
“Aw, she looks so innocent, but deep down she’s trouble,” cooed the nerdy girl whose name Sugarcoat couldn’t remember and who wouldn’t shut up about movies. “You should come over sometime; we’ll watch 2001.”
“Um, I’d like that,” Wallflower replied, typing into Lemon Zest’s phone. Meanwhile, Sunset looked absolutely delighted; it appeared that legitimately her favorite thing in the entire world was watching her friends become friends with one another.
Twilight raised her hand as if asking a question in class. “Um, should I be embarrassed that I have no idea what any of you are talking about?”
Several people laughed (Sugarcoat noted that Rainbow Dash was not among them, strongly suggesting she had no idea, either). Sunset leaned over and whispered in Twilight’s ear, rattling the poor girl terribly.
“Oh,” Twilight stammered. “Uh. Yes, please don’t smoke anything in here.”
“Come onnnnn,” Sour Sweet moaned, “let’s get back to the game, already. Whose turn is it?”
“Ooh, I’ll go!” Pinkie enthused. “Sunset! Truth or dare?!”
Sunset sighed; they were not being very diligent about turns, and Sunset had been the target of a disproportionate number of rounds. Still, she shrugged. “Truth.”
Pinkie grinned like a mako shark. “In the past year, who are all the people that’ve asked you out and you said no?”
“Ooo,” Sunny remarked, raising an eyebrow. “This party is getting more fun.”
“Gah!” Sunset was probably blushing, though it was very hard to tell. “Pinkie, do I have to?”
“I bet she can’t even keep track of them all,” Rainbow commented.
“It doesn’t happen that often!” Sunset argued. “Just… aggh, I feel so guilty, every time.”
“But you shouldn’t!” Pinkie said brightly. “You’re always super nice about it!”
Sunset grunted, running her fingers through her hair. Sugarcoat couldn’t help but be very curious about her answer. “The whole past year?”
“Since September!” Pinkie clarified.
With a weary sigh, Sunset began her list. “Sandalwood. Heath Burns. Watermelody. Bulk Biceps. Jet Set. Micro Chips. Roseluck. That guy at work whose name I didn’t know. Octavia Melody. Trixie….”
“Holy crap, Shimmer,” Sour Sweet marveled.
Sunset just kept going. “Toe Tapper. Those two guys at the music festival whose names I didn’t know. And, um.” She coughed, embarrassed. “Kiwi Lollipop.”
“Kiwi Lollipop?” movie girl wondered. “Who is… wait. The cool one?!”
“Aggh!” Sunset picked up a nearby blanket and threw it over her own head. “She is really cool, when you get to know her! It wasn’t that I didn’t think she was cool!”
“You turned down all of them?!” Lemon Zest asked, her mouth hanging open in shock. “I don’t know most of these people, but some of them are suuuuuuper hot, right?”
“Every one of them!” Pinkie confirmed. “Some in kinda different ways, but there’s not a stinker in the bunch!”
“Look, the girls don’t even count, pretty much!” Sunset argued, still not taking the blanket off. “I’m super-out as bi, so I’m safe to ask out.”
“Uh, no way,” Rainbow said. “You don’t get outer than I am, and girls never ask me out.” She paused, then frowned. “Hey, how come girls never ask me out?!”
“Some want to!” Pinkie assured her. “But none of them do sports, so you never talk to them.” She poked the Sunset-lump with her toe. “Is that really everyone?”
Sunset flung the blanket off herself, glaring. “No. But don’t ask me about anyone else, because I won’t tell you. You…”
“It was me,” Wallflower Blush said. Her voice was very quiet, but not quiet enough to keep from echoing around the whole room. “I asked her out a few months ago.”
Sunset gaped. “Wallflower, you didn’t have to…”
“It’s okay!” Wallflower assured her. “I’m not embarrassed about it. I had just never liked a girl before, or… well… anyone before, and I did it. You were really nice. Actually… it kind of seemed like you felt worse about it than I did.”
“Yeah, totally,” Rainbow confirmed. “You were acting like saying no was the worst thing in the world, and I’m sitting here, like, kind of disappointed.”
Everyone stared at her. Sunset slapped her forehead.
“Huh? Why’s everyone…” Rainbow caught up and groaned loudly. “Gaahhhh. Yes, I asked Sunset out at the beginning of the year. She said no, and things are cool. That’s it.”
There was a gobsmacked silence in the room.
“....Fine,” a dignified voice announced. “Since everyone’s admitting it: I asked her out, too.”
Sugarcoat felt her eyes go wider than she thought they possibly could go. She gaped so hard, her glasses fell off. “...Sunny?”
“Well.” Sunny Flare spoke casually, examining her fingernails, totally at ease. “I don’t even like girls that much, you know that. So it means I have high standards for them. Boys are whatever, but if a girl comes along and she’s attractive enough for me to notice her, I feel like I might as well do something about it.” She shrugged. “It’s for the best she turned me down. Our names alone would be a disaster, if we were together.”
“Is this a theme party?” Lemon Zest asked. “We all, one by one, admit we’re totally gay for Sunset Shimmer?” She frowned. “Uh, I dunno if I’m gonna be able to play this game without that booze we were talking about before.”
Sugarcoat closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. She opened her eyes, put her glasses back on, and coolly surveyed the room. “I think we should stop talking about this. Sunset is embarrassed and I think Twilight might be dying.”
Indeed, Twilight did not look well. But she managed to squeak, “I’m fine! This is just… a lot of talking about dating and I’m not used to it! But the slumber party book said…”
“Oh god, not that book again,” Rainbow muttered.
“...that it’s normal to have talks like this! And fun!” She gave a ghoulish parody of a smile. “I’m fine!”
“Oh, sure, it makes total sense you’d be uncomfortable,” Sour Sweet sang. “Seeing as you’re the only person in this room with a damn boyfriend!”
“That’s not fair,” said movie girl, frowning. “Some people are just awkward about this stuff. I get it.”
Sour Sweet rolled her eyes but did not argue.
“I think… I’m going to get us more popcorn,” Twilight announced, standing up. “I’ll take a minute to myself, get us some more popcorn, and then I’ll be fine!”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sunset asked, nearly crushing in her empathy.
“Yeah. Really.” Twilight smiled much more genuinely. “I never thought I’d have a party like this! I’m really glad we were all able to do it before high school ended.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, and I’ll check in with Cadance, too. I hope she’s not bored.”
“Get some soda too, would you?” Lemon Zest asked. Twilight nodded, actually waved goodbye, and stepped out of her room into the hallway.
Before her footsteps even receded away, Sugarcoat fixed a steely gaze on Sunset. “Really, tell us. Why’d you turn every one of these people down?”
Sunset frowned. “You just said you wanted to stop talking about this.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Sunset doesn’t have to answer any more!” Pinkie broke in. “She answered her question and her turn is over.”
“I still want to know.”
Sunset looked back at her, awkwardness reflected in her eyes. But she sighed and slumped her shoulders. “It’s fine, Pinkie. But it’s not complicated or anything, I just don’t want to think about dating right now. My priority’s friendship.”
“Aww, c’mon,” Sour Sweet pouted. “That’s lame! You can friendship while still making out with K-Lo!”
“Look, I like to take my time with social stuff.” She hugged her knees to her chest, somehow looking both older and younger than she was. “Um, only some of you know this, but I kinda used to be… heading down a different path. If I’d kept going, I’d be really awful and really miserable, and I’d still be dating people. The difference is, I wouldn’t have you guys. Friends.” She threw her hands up, casually helpless. “I’m just making sure I’m secure with that stuff before adding on to it with a boyfriend or whatever.”
Sugarcoat felt herself glaring. Something familiar and icy was in her fingers and chest. “Kind of a lot of wasted effort, isn’t it? We’re all going to be going off to college soon. You don’t think your high school friendships are going to keep being important, do you?”
There was a silence after she was finished speaking. Sunset had a look on her face that she had never seen before; she took it to mean she’d scored a hit. Even though that sort of thing didn’t feel good anymore, she was still glad she’d done it.
“Oh, Sugarcoat, don’t be such a downer,” Sunny Flare chastised lightly, voice smooth despite the tension in the room.
“Well, it’s true. Statistically speaking…”
“Dude, come on!” Rainbow interrupted. “It’s not hard to keep in touch. Of course we’re all gonna stay friends! When it’s important, you do it, end of story.”
“I’m not disagreeing with that,” Sugarcoat stated. “I’m saying it doesn’t stay important.”
Rainbow looked pretty angry, especially because Pinkie seemed to be getting upset. Sunset still had that expression on her face, though, so Sugarcoat didn’t want to stop.
But suddenly, she felt a weight on her shoulders and arm. Sunny had plopped herself down next to her, drooping on her like a shawl. “Uggh, Sugarcoaaaat, come on. I’m sorry, girls, she always gets like this at parties.” She poked at Sugarcoat’s cheek, eliciting an automatic snarl, but no other response. “Her gloomy emo side comes out. Doesn’t it?” She kept poking. “Hmm? Doesn’t it?”
Sugarcoat couldn’t be mad anymore; she actively tried and just couldn’t do it. Not like this, not with Sunny smushing her. “Mmf. I mean. People are exhausting. I usually spend most of my time at parties hoping there’s a dog I can hang out with, so I don’t have to talk to anyone. Leave it to Twilight Sparkle to have the one dog in the world where that wouldn’t even help.”
The tension was lifting; Sunset was softly smiling again. “Please stop poking my face,” Sugarcoat said.
“I absolutely will not.” Sugarcoat found herself tolerating it pretty easily.
“Sunset’s whole friendship thing is stupid and I hate it,” Sour Sweet asserted. “...buuut I know I shouldn’t. Everyone at Crystal Prep has parents that are totally miserable, because they don’t have any friends.”
“I know, right?” Sunny mused. “It’s like, there but for the grace of magic pony girl go I.”
There was a weird feeling in the room. Not tension anymore, just kind of a sad relief. Every single person, even Sunset herself, could relate to what Sunny had just said. It was a little chilling.
The moment proved too much for Lemon Zest. “Ugggggghhhh,” she pouted, flinging herself onto her back. “Blah blah blah, emotional maturity, social skills. This is so boring! It’s the opposite of rock!” She jumped to her feet, one hand devil’s horns, the other hand doing something that was very hard to interpret but might have been some kind of air-drumming. “C’mon, let’s talk about that! You! Juniper!” She pointed with her entire body at the confused girl. “What’s your favorite rock song?”
“Rock song?” Juniper asked, raising an eyebrow. “What am I, fifty? I listen to hip-hop, like a normal person.”
“Gaaaaaugh!” Lemon Zest pointed at Wallflower Blush like a fox lunging after prey. “You! Truth or dare? Say truth, so I can ask you what your favorite rock song is!”
“Um.” Wallflower fidgeted with her hands uncomfortably. “I like YYZ.”
Lemon Zest shrieked and hurled her phone across the room. Wallflower jumped away in terror as the phone hit the wall and dropped to the floor. “Put your number in there! We’re gonna be friends!!”
“Please stop throwing things,” Sunset said wearily. “I’m worried you’re gonna break a window or something.”
Sugarcoat tried to tune out the nonsense and nudged Sunny. “Let me up.”
“I don’t want to. You’re comfortable.”
“Sunny.”
Sunny pouted but pulled away. Sugarcoat was certain she did not change facial expression or otherwise react in any way.
She stood. “I’m going to head to the bathroom,” she announced. Pinkie was now juggling cell phones, for some reason, so she was barely acknowledged. That suited her just fine.
Twilight’s house was annoyingly large, and though there was probably a bathroom near where she’d been, she only knew of the one on the ground floor next to the computer room. She of course wasn’t lying about needing to go, but she also took a moment to settle down. Things were fraught.
So, when she finished and headed back upstairs, she was pleased to note that Twilight and Principal Cadance were hanging out in the living room, the door wide open, talking. Sugarcoat was curious and could not deny being a bit nosy by nature, but more importantly, snooping would allow her to delay going back upstairs for a bit.
She crept near the doorway and leaned, Twilight’s voice clear and easy to make out.
“...I know my feelings weren’t rational. I won’t lose my friends, especially Sunset. I’m dating Timber, and I haven’t started to ignore them! I just got worried about it and wanted to come down here to remind myself my fears weren’t based on reality.”
“I’m so glad you were able to deal with your anxiety like that,” Cadance nearly cooed. “I’m proud of all the work you’ve done.”
“Thanks. Um.” Sugarcoat could practically hear the blush. “My friends have become really important. It’s pretty easy to remind myself that even though it’s stressful sometimes, it really is worth it.”
It was dumb but somehow also totally reasonable that Twilight and Sunset had similar worries. Sugarcoat almost decided to leave, but Twilight spoke up again. “Uh… Cadance? Are you all right?”
“Hm? Oh… no, it’s just. I was just thinking of things that happened with my friends today, and…” She trailed off uncomfortably. “Twilight. We’re pretty much sisters, right? Not just that we’re going to be in-laws, but emotionally, right?”
“Yeah!” Twilight replied with cheerful sincerity. “Of course we are!”
“Right! And… well, sisters are honest with one another, right?”
“Uh.” Twilight’s voice was still cheerful, but it got a lot more hesitant. “Yyyeah?”
“Tell me the truth. Am I… boring?”
“What? Cadance, of course you’re not boring! Why would you think that?”
“It’s just…” The principal’s tone was not exactly vulnerable, but it definitely betrayed more emotion than Sugarcoat was used to. “It’s something Twinkleshine said. She teases me a lot, but… it just made me think.”
“Come on, have a seat,” Twilight said, very much sounding like the grown-up of the two. “Take me through what happened. What exactly did she say?”
“I was just talking about how excited I was for everyone to be selling pumpkin spice flavors again, and she looked over at Minuette like, ‘see?’ like it was something they expected. And I tried to ignore it, but then we were talking about what we wanted to do, and Minuette wanted to see ‘Cherry Orchards in the Spring,’ but I don’t really like movies with subtitles. So, I said I just wanted a girl’s night in to drink wine and watch a few episodes of ‘The Anonymous Singer,’ but then they had that look again and were laughing!”
“They were laughing at you?”
“I don’t think it was mean, and they apologized about it. But then they tried to explain, and Twinkleshine said I was… ‘basic.’ Is that true? I‘m not ‘basic,’ am I? Am I a… a ‘normie?’”
Sugarcoat literally had to shove her hand into her mouth to keep from either bursting out into laughter or calling out “Yes, you’re a complete normie;” she wasn’t sure which. Twilight, naturally, was far more polite, and just sounded uncomfortable. “Cadance… why are you asking me about this? It’s okay, but I’m not really sure what I can say.”
“Because you’re different! You wear glasses! You have friends that are… lgb….t? Is there a t? Or a q? I don’t even know!”
“...you really don’t have any lgbtq friends?”
“I didn’t arrange it that way! I don’t even know where you’d go to meet gay people! Most of my friends were in my sorority. Twinkleshine and Lemon Hearts and Minuette are the only friends I’ve made since college.”
“Which is probably why the person you’re emotionally closest to is your fiance’s high-school-age little sister,” Sugarcoat had to put her hands around her throat and choke herself to keep from saying.
“I’m a romantic,” Cadance continued, “I’ve always focused on getting married and traditional things like that, and I think that’s just not something lots of other kinds of people are into. You know I’m not prejudiced, right?”
“Yeah, of course I know that. You’ve made Crystal Prep way more of a safe space than Cinch ever did; everyone says so. But… maybe this ‘traditional’ thing is what your friends were talking about?”
“Well… maybe, but I’m not traditional in all ways! I can be wild! Like that sign I keep on my desk. You’ve seen that sign!”
“...the one that says ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee.’ Yes. I’ve seen it.”
“Right! That’s funny! Being funny is important; it’s the middle part of the other sign. You know, the one on my wall!”
“‘...Live, Laugh, Love,’” Twilight replied, somehow doing an excellent job of remaining serious. “Yes, I’ve seen that, too. Um… maybe this is just coming out now because of the wedding? You’ve been focusing so much on that, so maybe this side of you is just coming out more.”
“My wedding plans aren’t ‘basic!’” Cadence huffed. “The reception is happening in a remodeled warehouse! ...although I actually didn’t like that, but the only other options were remodeled farm stables. The whole thing seems kind of crunchy to me. Um.” There was a clearly awkward pause. “...but the venue has these craaazy things about it, and I love that! Like how they're putting a little shirt on Spike that says 'Don't worry, ladies, I'm single!' And how the two prep areas are different? Shining and his groomsmen have a big-screen TV so they can watch football while they wait for the ceremony to start! And on our side, there's bottles of wine!'”
“Um, yeah. I was actually meaning to ask, doesn’t it make more sense for me to be in there with Shining? I love you, but he is my brother, and so it’s weird to make me a bridesmaid…”
“Oh, Twilight, don’t be silly! You’re a girl; you can’t be a grooms-woman! Besides, all the photos would look weird with you on his side.”
“...right.”
There was a long pause. “And, well, but…” Cadance was starting to get a little frantic, it seemed. “And the seating doesn’t have a bride side and a groom side! We’re having a sign that says ‘pick a seat, not a side.’ That’s not ‘basic,’ right?”
There was another long pause.
“I have a tattoo? That’s dangerous and cool, right? It’s a heart made of crystal, meaning ‘love,’ because I’ve always thought love is just so positive and... “
Twilight coughed uncomfortably.
“Oh my god,” Cadance said.
“Maybe… spend more time with Principal Luna? I heard she’s got kind of an arty side.”
“No. No, I need to be dangerous. And wild! I need…” Cadance was silent for a few moments. “I have a crazy idea. Twilight, I have a completely crazy, completely unconventional idea. I just need...” There were soft footsteps and she said something too quiet for Sugarcoat to hear.
Twilight heard it, though, and she nearly yelped in surprise. “What? But why?”
“I... I’m afraid it’s too personal for me to feel comfortable talking to you about it,” Cadence answered, and it was a great relief for Sugarcoat to learn that category of things existed for her in regards to Twilight. “But do you think I could talk to Sunset, and…”
“No. She doesn’t…” Twilight sighed. “I’ll send you an email about it tomorrow, all right? There’s another way to do it. I talked to mine, and it was really great, but it takes…” She trailed off helplessly. “Uh, I’ll just email you, okay?”
Sugarcoat figured it was dangerous to stay next to the doorway with the conversation wrapping up like that. But as she headed back upstairs, her brain was percolating.
Sunny Flare was not the absolute last one of her classmates she wanted to see her loading up her van with surveillance equipment. Lemon Zest was, because Lemon Zest would have tried to hook the parabolic microphone up to her stereo. But Sunny was up there. This was true despite the fact that the entire point was for Sunny to see her.
“Hm,” she said, and that was it. She raised her eyebrow just enough to barely be perceptible.
Sugarcoat didn’t exactly feel awkward, but Sunny’s ability to just look at her in a way that asserted dominance was always unnerving. “Yes?”
“And what, exactly, are you doing, dearie?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
Sunny glanced at the van, then back to Sugarcoat. “It looks like you requisitioned a bunch of spy stuff from the A/V room and rented a van to put it in.”
“The van’s borrowed, not rented,” Sugarcoat corrected. “But otherwise, yeah. There you go.”
“Uh huh.” Sunny’s eyebrow went up verrrrrrry slightly. “Why are you doing that?”
Sugarcoat very briefly considered an unhelpful non-answer but then decided it was just too much trouble. “Gonna go spy on the principal.”
“Aha!” Sunny snapped, grinning. “I knew it was something interesting! What’s she up to?”
“I don’t know, exactly. She was saying something weird at Twilight’s house last week, and her desk calendar has tonight circled.”
“Huh. Pretty scanty.” Sunny glanced into the back of the van. “This is all kind of overkill, don’t you think? Why do you even care?”
“Blackmail,” Sugarcoat replied simply, placing a pair of infra-red goggles into the back of the van.
“Blackmail for what?” Sunny asked. “A good recommendation? You already got in to all your colleges.”
Sugarcoat paused thoughtfully. “I suppose also I have a self-sabotaging desire to get caught.”
“Aha, therrre we go. Little Emo Sugarcoaty again.” Sugarcoat could not control the blush, but she managed to scowl, too, so it looked annoyed. “C’monnnn. We’re second semester seniors! Nothing even matters! We won’t even think about any of this once we go off to college. Just chill out and have fun!”
“Those are my two least favorite things to do, and you know it.”
“Ugggggh.” The eyeroll was magnificent. “No, come on. I’m not letting you do this. Let’s just go hang out with Indigo; she at least has exciting ways of breaking the law.”
“Have fun,” Sugarcoat grunted, closing the back of the van.
“Uggggghhhhhhhhh.” Sugarcoat wished she hadn’t thought of the previous eyeroll as magnificent, because this one completely blew it out of the water. “Look, I’ll go with you and we’ll scope it out, but no creepy spy microphones, okay? Just us. So if we get caught, it won’t be a huge ‘Sugarcoat is a terrifying creep who needs to go to jail’ moment.”
Sugarcoat did not look back at her for a moment; she was still trying to emotionally respond to ‘just us.’ Eventually she sighed. “Binoculars,” she proposed.
“Fine! Creep. We’ll take my car. I don’t want to be seen in that weird unmarked van.”
“Kind of the point is people don’t see you.”
“Then let me rephrase: I do want to be seen in my bad-ass car.”
With a smirk, Sunny held out her arm. There was no way Sugarcoat wasn’t going to accept it.
“This is… exactly as boring as I thought it would be,” Sunny Flare remarked, checking the time on one of those weird arm-robot things she wore. “And you know how boring I can think things are. I am the queen of thinking things are boring.”
“Shh,” Sugarcoat mumbled.
“Oh nooo, is the outside of the house still there, being the outside of a house? Should I hide deeper in the bushes so the ugly green paint can’t see me?”
“Shh,” Sugarcoat repeated.
“I will not shh,” Sunny hmphed. “If complaining to myself is the only way to keep from being bored, I’m doing it.”
Sugarcoat lowered the binoculars and gave a look to her friend. “You know, I’ve been very nice, not making fun of you for the Sunset Shimmer thing.”
“What Sunset Shimmer thing?” Sunny’s confusion was almost certainly feigned, but it was effective. “Ohhh. The date. What’s to make fun of, because she’s Canterlot High? I’ve asked Canterlot High students out before. They’ve asked me out a lot.”
Sugarcoat was very aware of all of this. “It’s Sunset.”
“Um, yeah. Sunset the super-hot tough girl. It’s not like any of this matters. We’re graduating. I’m not gonna find the love of my life in high school.”
Sugarcoat raised the binoculars back up to her face and stared pointedly at the outside of Principal Cadance’s house.
Sunny began softly but irritatingly singing a pop song to herself.
“Shh.”
“Nope. I…”
“No, really, shh.” Sugarcoat pointed. Principal Cadance and her fiance were walking down the sidewalk, approaching the house. Sugarcoat made sure she was appropriately hidden, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered, with how excitedly Cadance was bouncing around.
“Oooooh I can’t believe we’re doing this!” she squealed. “Shiny, isn’t this just the craziest and most dangerous and sexiest thing ever???”
Shiny’s face was completely neutral. “It… really kind of isn’t.”
“We’re… swinging!” Cadance enthused, breaking out into another fit of excited giggles. “Do you believe it? I’m a mom! And I’m swinging!”
Sunny and Sugarcoat shared a look.
The couple arrived at the front door and, oddly, rang the doorbell. After a few moments, a second Cadance opened the door, mirroring her counterpart’s excitement. “Cadance!” she greeted. “Isn’t this absolutely wild that we’re doing this??”
“I can’t believe it!!” the first one tittered.
Indoor Cadance sized up Shining Armor, smirking. “And this is your husband? Oooh, aren’t I a lucky lady tonight.”
A second Shining Armor appeared in the doorway next to her. He waved to his counterpart and received a wave back. They all stepped into the house, the Cadances’ matching wave of giggles cut off as the door shut.
Sugarcoat was very unusually speechless.
“Ohhhhh,” Sunny said, nodding in realization. “You know what this is? This is the whole pony thing.”
“...pony thing?”
“Yeah. You know what the Canterlot girls told us, how there was this other Twilight who was a magic pony, from Sunset's dimension?”
“Oh right. There’s a pony version of everyone, apparently.”
Sunny snickered. “And so our principal wanted to take advantage of it to have a swingers party while avoiding being even the slightest bit transgressive. I’m so not surprised.”
Sugarcoat shrugged. “I appreciate her cleverness, actually.”
“You would, dearie,” Sunny nudged her, apparently feeling no impulse whatsoever to explain what she meant. “Can we finally get out of here? This turned out to be boring after all.”
“You don’t have to keep calling it boring every five seconds,” Sugarcoat grumbled, extracting herself from the bush they were hidden in.
“Well, you know me! I like exciting things.”
“Yeah,” Sugarcoat replied. “I know.”
There was a weird pause.
“Whatever, just c’mon.” Sunny turned and primly walked off to where she had parked. “Let’s go before you start getting any weird ideas yourself.”
Sugarcoat had been having ideas all night, of course. But at that moment, a weird one did occur to her.
Sugarcoat assumed that Sunset found Rarity and Applejack’s flirtatious bickering hilarious, and she wanted to savor it. From Sugarcoat’s perspective, it looked like the sort of thing that would get old very quickly: they couldn’t get through a simple snack at the Sweet Shoppe without exchanging jabs.
“I told you,” Rarity fussed, ”you run the brush through your hair thirty-five times. At least! If you don’t, then you’ll get tangles!”
“Rares, I… ow!” Applejack winced as her relationship-partner-of-indefinite-status yanked at her ponytail. “I’m not a dog, dang it! I don’t need to be brushed!”
Fluttershy smiled softly; despite her obvious fear of conflict, she seemed to be taking this ‘argument’ well. It was sweet, Sugarcoat supposed. And annoying.
The smile turned into an agitated frown as Sugarcoat walked up next to their booth, arms crossed and glaring down at them.
Rarity and Applejack froze and blushed completely disproportionately to what they had actually been doing, so it was on Sunset to address the situation. “Um. Hey. Sugarcoat. What’s up?”
“I want to meet my magic pony self,” Sugarcoat announced.
Sunset blinked in confusion. “Um. Your…”
“The pony alternate universe thing. You can communicate over there, right?”
“I. Um.” Sunset scratched her head, nonplussed. “Does… everyone know about that?”
“I’m certain there are people in other countries who don’t, but practically speaking, yes.” Sugarcoat paused, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Hello. I hope you’ve been well. It’s nice to see you. May I meet my magic pony self?”
“Uhhh wait wait wait.” Sunset pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why do you want to meet her?”
“I want to make out with her.”
Sunset looked just as shocked as Fluttershy, which was a feat. Luckily, before anyone could think of anything to say, a blur jumped over to the booth, grinning. “Sugarcoat!!”
“Hi, Pinkie Pie.”
“It’s so great you came in!!” Pinkie enthused. “After you’re done saying hi, have a seat and I can serve you!!”
“No.” Sugarcoat glanced around, looking like she was trying to keep disdain off her face, but only very minimally. “Sweets aren’t really my thing.”
“Whaaaaaaaat!?” Pinkie yelped, grabbing her face. “How is that possible?! Don’t you love food that’s been coated in Sugar?! That’s your name!”
Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “I’m called Sugarcoat because my entire existence is an ironic joke.”
“Awwwww. You know what helps with your whole existence being an ironic joke? Cake!”
“No.” Sugarcoat stood uncomfortably, indicating a compliment was about to ensue. “I can tell you and the bakers care a lot about serving good food. I don’t think it’s bad, it’s just not what I’m into.”
“Okayyyy.” Pinkie sighed dramatically, then smiled just as dramatically. “Gotta keep working! Good to see you!”
“It’s good to see you, too,” Sugarcoat confirmed. She looked back at Sunset as Pinkie walked off. “Anyway. So help a buddy out?”
“Why,” Sunset began, “do you want.” She gathered herself and finally was able to finish the question, “to make out with yourself?”
“I’m insecure about dating. I need practice, and I need someone who’ll tell it to me like it is. There’s a very small number of people I trust to give me honest feedback about my kissing skills.” She glanced around the table, a vaguely annoyed expression on her face. “...and Applejack would say no.”
Rarity’s mouth fell open in shock, but almost immediately she hissed “You’re darn right she would!” and threw her arms around Applejack as if Sugarcoat was an explosion to shield her from. To her credit, Applejack just glared.
“Is that… really a good reason?” Sunset asked
“I don’t like not being good at things,” Sugarcoat answered, uncomfortable but still with that blunt tone. “If I’m not pretty, I should at least be skilled.”
“Aww, Sugarcoat, you’re super-pretty!” Pinkie’s voice called out, even though she was slicing a cake more than a few feet away.
“That rap you did?” Sugarcoat called back, “In the Dance Magic music video? Was the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Haters gonna hate!”
“I… look. I really don’t think I can help you out.” Sunset looked like it was suddenly just dawning on her how bizarre her life was. “We have a lot of problems with Equestrian magic; I don’t think it’s safe for people to just pop back and forth between dimensions.”
Sugarcoat frowned, jaw clenched. She was not used to being told “no.”
“It’s not personal!” Sunset assured her. “You’d actually be surprised how often I get asked this sort of thing.”
After a moment, Sugarcoat nodded stiffly. “All right. I understand. Thanks for hearing me out, anyway.”
Sunset breathed a silent sigh of relief, which was kind of insulting. “Yeah. Sorry. Um… I can think of people I know around here who might be into what you’re, um, going for.”
“Thanks,” Sugarcoat replied, not remotely considering for a moment that Sunset might be successful. “Bye.”
Sunset, Applejack, and Fluttershy waved goodbye. Rarity glared. Sugarcoat turned and walked to the door.
Before she got there, a perky voice called out, “Bye! Are you suuuuurrrreeeee you don’t want some cake?!”
Sugarcoat looked at Pinkie with hooded eyes. “Absolutely sure.”
“Oh well, thanks for coming in! And just you wait, I’ll win you over with my phat rhymes!”
Sugarcoat couldn’t believe it, but she felt her face shifting to a smirk as she left the diner.
Sugarcoat’s phone beeped again, and she rolled her eyes, glad to express her disdain to everyone nearby, even if they didn’t understand the context. It had been half an hour since she had left the Sweet Shoppe, and Pinkie had already texted her half a dozen rhymes for “Sugarcoat,” all of which were absolutely horrible.
Sunset had also sent her a long and painfully sincere message expressing again that she was sorry she didn’t feel comfortable passing messages along across the dimensions, and again gently suggesting she could try to help Sugarcoat find someone to date. Sunset was really nice, and interacting with her was weird.
Rarity had just texted her an emoji of eyeballs and that was it.
But the most recent text was different. It was from Fluttershy. It was just a phone number and the message “Call, don’t text. Please don’t tell Sunset I sent this to you.”
Sugarcoat revised the opinion she had of Fluttershy, raising her from “namby-pamby wuss” to “milquetoast wuss.” She made a mental note to reach out to her if she got the chance.
She dialed the number, and after only a single ring, a recording clicked to life. The speaker’s tone was pert and almost playful, as if rebelling against the professionalism of the message. The effect was a bit disconcerting.
“Hello, and thank you for contacting Mirror Match Inc., dedicated to providing clients with a social experience unlike any other! If you’ve ever wanted to meet someone who knows you better than you know yourself, our services are for you!
“If you would like to try to arrange a meeting with your Mirror Match, please leave your name, telephone number, and a range of days and times to meet us for an initial consultation.”
Sugarcoat was surprised by how not surprised she was by what she had just heard. She left a voice mail with the requested information, hoping she was not about to be inundated with new spam ads.
Almost immediately after putting her phone back into her handbag, it buzzed. Surprised, she grabbed it again and looked at the screen. Pinkie Pie had sent her a text message that just said “booger bloat.”
She decided to turn her phone off for the rest of the afternoon.
The response came fairly quickly in the form of a terse text message, so less than 24 hours later, Sugarcoat stationed herself in a gazebo in a suburban park, awaiting her mysterious contact. It was not particularly crowded, but there were still plenty of people walking by, and the lamps successfully fought off the dusk; she was feeling 90% certain she was not about to be kidnapped, which was just enough to still be exciting.
She did not have to wait long. Despite the steady stream of people walking by, enjoying fake-nature, she very easily identified her contact approaching. This is because her contact was acting about as suspicious as humanly possible, skulking around like the world’s worst secret agent.
After an interminably long time of simultaneously trying to be sneaky while also trying to be noticed by as many people as possible, the representative of Mirror Match Inc. arrived in the gazebo. “Good evening,” she whispered unnecessarily. “Are you… our client?”
“I know you,” Sugarcoat observed.
The girl paused. “You… do?”
“Yeah. I saw you doing a magic show at the community center.”
“Oh!” The girl twirled in a circle and posed garishly, running a hand through her silver hair. “Well, of course you did! The Astounding Trixie is very famous!”
“I didn’t think you were very good,” Sugarcoat said.
Trixie started back like someone had waved a gun in her face. “What! How dare you!”
“Let me clarify. The illusions and showmanship were impressive. But I could figure out how you did about half of your tricks.” She paused. “Oh, huh. ‘Trixie,’ ‘tricks.’ Cute.” Getting back on track, she shrugged. “I’m really smart, though, so that was probably just me.”
Trixie eyed her suspiciously. “Hmmmmmm.” She examined Sugarcoat from several angles, then nodded. “Glasses. The smart thing checks out.” She crossed her arms, still glaring. “Fine. I’ll ignore your insult, because Trixie is a professional. You’re here for the services of Mirror Match Inc.?”
“I think so. I want to meet myself. From Pony Land. Is this what you do?”
“Mirror Match Inc. does a lot of things. Letting people meet their pony selves… letting ponies meet their people selves… you know. A lot of things.”
“Right. So, how’s this work? We just head over to Pony World now? Or…”
“Oh, no no no. Let me explain. You see, I am an interdimensional liaison.” Trixie pronounced the word ‘liaison’ with more joy than Sugarcoat had ever felt about anything. “As part of our service, we will locate your counterpart and pass along the message that you wish to meet. We will also arrange and facilitate the rendezvous if both parties are amenable.”
“Huh.” Sugarcoat frowned. “And what’s with all the secrecy? Why do you even have a business doing this?”
“Oh, lots of reasons, I’m sure,” Trixie answered, waving her hand dismissively. “This is really just a part-time thing for me. I’m saving up to buy a trick coffin.”
“Then let me talk to whoever’s really in charge.”
“Oh, I can’t let you do that,” Trixie replied dismissively. “I’m your agent, here, I’ll be the one you’re dealing with.”
Sugarcoat crossed her arms and glared. “I really think you should let me talk to your boss. Because I know how you did six out of the ten magic tricks I saw you do, and I am very bad at keeping secrets.”
“Whaaaat!” Trixie stomped her foot in anger. “You can’t…”
Sugarcoat held up an index finger in sudden realization. “Oh! I just realized you have access to an exact body double. So make that seven out of ten.”
Trixie seethe-pouted, but turned her head away. “Hmmph! Fine. Fine! Hold on.”
She stepped away and made a call on her phone. She talked for a minute or two, frantically waving her arms around, and eventually she came back to the gazebo. “Here. Make it quick.” She held out the phone, set to speaker mode, and grimaced.
“Hello?” Sugarcoat greeted.
The voice which came out of the tinny speaker was unexpectedly juvenile and cutesy. “Hi, you’re the Mirror Match client?”
“Yes. I’m Sugarcoat. I want to meet myself, but I want to clear out some of this sketchiness before I do.”
She was surprised to hear a second voice come out of the phone, still young-sounding, but with a clear southern accent. “I reckon that makes sense. We don’t want anyone to feel weird. Most people just go along with it.”
“Are you children?” Sugarcoat asked.
“No!” a third voice barked, sort of jockish. “We’re fourteen!” After a moment, she clarified. “Okay, one of us is thirteen. But that’s not kids!”
Sugarcoat raised an eyebrow at Trixie, but the magician was mouthing some sort of monologue to herself and clearly not paying attention.
“We know what we’re doing,” the cutesy voice promised. “We’ve helped out lots of people.”
“...I’m really going to have to hear more about how fourteen year-olds started a secret alternate universe company,” Sugarcoat replied. “This is really starting to feel like a practical joke.”
“It ain’t!” Southern voice yelped, sounding almost horrified at the misconception. “And it’s… not really a company. We just added the inc part so it’d sound more, you know, legit.”
“We do charge our clients, but it’s just for Trixie, because she does the legwork,” jock voice said. “We aren’t making money or anything off this. That’s not what it’s about.”
“Uh huh.” Sugarcoat unnecessarily raised an eyebrow at the phone, thoroughly unimpressed. “So what is it about, then?”
“Um.” Southern voice paused uncomfortably, then sighed. “It’s a little hard to explain. Do you know what cutie marks are?”
“The phrase ‘cutie mark’ is so terrible, I almost just hung up on you,” Sugarcoat replied. “Please explain it as quickly as you can.”
“Uh, okay, see… ponies have cutie marks. It’s a little picture… um, on their butts.”
Sugarcoat did not reply, but she had learned how to make silence feel like being glared at.
“Um," the voice continued awkwardly, "so, the thing is, the cutie mark symbolizes, like, the thing that’s special about you. Your talent or your, like, passion.” Jock voice thankfully was talking very quickly.
“Ponies have one thing that makes each of them special, and they’re stuck with it for life?” Sugarcoat asked. “That’s grim. What if it sucks?”
“Uh… they don’t really think about it like that,” southern voice replied. “They aren’t born with it. They get it when they realize their special thing. It happens at different times. And it kinda means you’re an adult.”
“Uh huh, cutie magic pony butt bat mitzvah,” Sugarcoat deadpanned. “Sounds incredibly stupid. But go on.”
“Um, so the thing is, we heard about our pony versions,” cutesy voice said. “And their whole thing is all about helping other ponies find out what their cutie marks are.”
“Yeah,” jock voice added. “Their job basically is getting people to really understand themselves. We think that’s really awesome!”
“But we don’t have cutie marks,” southern voice said. “But we still wanted to do something like that. And what better way to help people understand themselves than to actually let them talk to themselves? And well… we know where the magic portal is, so…”
“Hmph.” Sugarcoat sighed, appreciating the answer but still regretting having asked. “And there’s really a market for this?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s really popular! Uh, although not too many people have, um, your reasons for it.”
"Some do," jock voice reminded her, a little defensively. "It's not that weird!"
“...yeah,” cutesy voice agreed uncertainly. “But most people just want to talk to themselves. Especially people our sisters’ age, they…”
Southern voice squawked. “Don’t say that! She’ll figure out who we are!”
“Ohhh yeah.” Cutesy voice giggled. “Sorry. Especially people Rarity and Applejack’s age, they’re kinda freaking out about who they are because they’re graduating soon.” There was a long pause. “...what? What’d I say?”
“I don’t particularly care who you are,” Sugarcoat promised them. “Look, I believe you.” (She felt proud for not adding, “because one of you is clearly too dense to trick anyone.”) “I feel a lot better about this whole thing. But one thing: why are you doing this behind Sunset’s back? I’m… apparently her friend, so I don’t know if I want to support that.”
“..eeehhh…” Southern voice coughed lightly. “It’s only sorta behind her back? She doesn’t really like it, but she really doesn’t want all these people to go out finding the portal themselves. We keep the location secret, even from the ones we move across the dimensions. So I think as long as she can ignore it, she’s fine.”
“Hmm.” Sugarcoat considered that. “Bad, but for the greater good. I’m into it.” She nodded smartly at Trixie. “Okay. I got what I needed.”
“Hm?” Trixie roused herself from what might have actually been a standing-upright nap. “We done?”
“Okay one thing though,” southern voice spoke up. “The cutie mark thing is actually really cool."
"Please, don't," Sugarcoat grunted. "It's the most depressing thing I can think of, and it's got a very stupid name."
"No, see, because it’s not just a picture on your butt, it…”
“We’re done,” Sugarcoat said.
Trixie hung up and grinned at her client. "Get everything you need?"
"Yeah. Just wanted to be sure about some things, like why we're keeping it secret from Sunset."
"Sunset." Trixie's expression darkened suddenly. "Sunset is a very good person, but she has one or two extremely misinformed opinions." Sugarcoat was confused for a moment before remembering where she had heard Trixie's name recently. She couldn't help but sympathize.
However, Trixie instantly brightened again, smiling with excitement. “Anyway. Ready to talk payment? I have expenses.”
“Money’s no object.
“A whole lot of expenses.”
Sugarcoat glared, despite realizing she couldn’t cow the uncowable. “Well, let’s make a deal, then.’
“Okay. We’re doing it.”
“Yep. And it’s gonna be awesome.”
“Of course it is! Awesome on top of awesome makes super-awesome!!”
Rainbow Dash scooted a couple of centimeters closer. Rainbow Dash responded with an even more plastered-on grin.
“Is it weird that we thought to do this?”
“What?! No way! Everyone’s gotta be curious. We’re just the only ones awesome enough to do it!”
Neither of them said anything.
“I’ve done this a bunch of times,” Rainbow Dash blurted.
“Oh, yeah! Me too! Kissing. Stuff. All the time!”
“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash paused. “So. Let’s go for it!”
They did not move.
“See, I’m used to having hands?” Rainbow Dash ventured. “Girls tell me I’m really awesome all the time! But… I use my hands to, um, grab their hair… and stuff? So I’m not sure what to do with these hoof things.”
“Usually we use our wings.”
“Oh. Um.” Rainbow Dash looked back at her wings. “Yeah. I’ll just use the wings that I have to help me hook up. With myself.” She grinned widely. “This is my life right now.”
There was another long silence.
“You know what?” Rainbow Dash said, “you haven’t gotten a chance to fly enough. You know? Flying is awesome.”
“Oh, yeah! Let’s fly some more! I’ll race you!”
“Not if I race you, first!”
They both leapt into the air (one more awkwardly than the other), and then two rainbow streaks took off joyfully into the clouds.
The text message had simply said, “Found her! She’s willing to meet. Come to the gazebo at 7:00.” Sugarcoat arrived before 6:30. She was not nervous, but she was annoyed with herself for being nervous, which was a trick she’d learned long ago.
Trixie was not late, which slightly surprised Sugarcoat. She led the erstwhile pony, who wore a blindfold and rather garish clothes, down the path to the gazebo. It took longer than usual, presumably because it was hard to be a biped when one wasn’t used to it, so Sugarcoat watched them come. She did not have any sort of facial expression.
“Here you go!” Trixie announced proudly, shoving her guest forward and tearing off the blindfold. “It’s you!”
Sugarcoat sighed. “That is very clearly not me.”
“Oh look, how nice!” Suri Polomare exclaimed, taking in the world. “It’s like we’re all big monkeys.” She laughed. “Ohhhkay.”
“Okay yes, but see the thing isssssss I couldn’t actually find. Um. You.” Trixie still had the gall to look haughty even as she stumbled through her explanation. “But she’s close enough, right? She goes to Crystal Prep and everything!”
“Awww, c’mon,” Suri argued pleasantly. “You couldn’t possibly be saying I’m not good enough for you! Right?” She laughed again. “Ohhkay.”
Sugarcoat glowered. “I have not commented one way or another about whether or not you are ‘good enough.’ The point is, you’re not me, and the whole point was meeting myself.”
“Don’t worry about that nerdy old thing,” Suri assured her, simpering. “I don’t know who you are, but I promise I am way better at making out than you would be. Let’s get started.” She laughed. “Ohhkay.”
“Every time you say ‘ohhkay,’ I get twenty percent drier,” Sugarcoat said. She turned to Trixie. “I want my money back.”
“Whoa, hey, let’s not get irrational!” Trixie exclaimed. “Look, I’ll just… I’ll just take her back and, uh, if you give us a couple more days, we’ll be able to find you.”
Sugarcoat held the glare for a good three seconds, but she eventually nodded. “Fine. Just don’t…”
“Uh, hey,” Suri interrupted, “if you two monsters are done talking about boring monster stuff, let’s move on to more important things. Where’s this clothes store you said you were gonna take me to? I am not coming to some weird freak alternate universe without finding designs I can steal.”
Sugarcoat decided it was best to just leave Trixie to deal with this particular problem.
“Oh, byyeeee, sweetie!” Suri called after her. “It was soooo good to see you!”
Sugarcoat did not often give people the finger. She was glad about that, because it made moments like this feel important.
She wasn’t sure how it happened. It wasn’t on purpose, but it might have been subconscious or even legit magical somehow. Or maybe it was just a stupid coincidence. But whatever the cause, the park bench Sugarcoat decided was a good spot to mope was exactly on the path Applejack was mopily walking on.
The apple farmer stopped, frowned, then smiled. “Well, howdy, Sugarcoat.”
Sugarcoat glared, not feeling particularly keen on applying any friendship lessons. “You Rainbooms are really nice,” she commented. “Weird nice. Sketchy nice.”
“I think you been hanging around that Sour Sweet girl too much.”
“I’m just not used to it.” Sugarcoat patted the bench next to her. “You’re sad. That’s dumb; you shouldn’t be. Talk to me about it.”
Applejack blinked in surprise, then raised an eyebrow. “This ain’t a trick to get me to make out with you, is it?”
“I don’t trick people.”
Applejack considered that, then actually shrugged and sat down.
“Huh.” Sugarcoat found herself a bit nonplussed for a moment. “I didn’t really expect you to actually do it.”
“Eh, you and me don’t always see eye-to-eye, but at least you ain’t tiring to talk to. I don’t gotta twist myself in knots trying to figure out what you’re really saying.” Sugarcoat figured out who she was talking about, but before she could say anything, Applejack continued. “And you look sad, too, so might as well return the favor. That whole ‘learning about dating’ thing not going well?”
Sugarcoat frowned, trying hard, and mostly succeeding, to avoid seeing the conversation as some kind of chess game. “No. It was stupid, anyway. I think I was just having a crisis, because of graduation and everything.”
“Lord, I know it. Bam, everything changes. It’s hitting everybody; even Sunset and Pinkie can’t pretend it’s not happening, anymore.”
“Can’t stop everyone from just going their own ways.”
“Yup. And it ain’t right to try.”
The breeze that had been keeping things halfway pleasant died down. The sun suddenly felt unbearably hot.
“Are you staying around?” Sugarcoat asked out of genuine curiosity. “I know your family has that farm.”
“No, I’m going to college!” Applejack snapped defensively. “Agricultural science, thank you very much! Aw, c’mon, you ain’t looking down on me ‘cause you go to Crystal Prep and I’m just a farmer, are you?”
Sugarcoat felt no anger at the accusation; it had been so refreshingly straightforward. She really was spending too much time around Sour Sweet. “No. My family comes from farmers, too. And I think you’re the one being judgmental, right now.”
Applejack froze, then blushed and rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” The sun fell behind a cloud; the coolness was nice. Applejack gave a gentle smile. “Uh… your family’s farmers, too? I thought your parents were professors or something.”
“My dad cut himself off from the family. He had to start over.”
“Cut himself off? Why would he do something like that?!”
“Because good sugar plantations are still pretty awful to their workers, and my family does not have good sugar plantations.” Sugarcoat couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice, not that she tried. “My dad couldn’t stand being a part of it. Told his parents as much right to their faces.”
Applejack looked stunned, and finally she said, “That was real good of your dad.”
“I know. Don’t get the wrong idea, though, he’s still pretty cutthroat. He did send me to Crystal Prep, after all.” She allowed herself a smug smile on his behalf. “I’m going to go into law, to try to do something about people like my grandparents.”
“...Got it all figured out, huh?”
“Yup. College then law school. Been sure of it since I was a kid.” Sugarcoat shrugged. “After that, I’m less sure, but… I kind of think I’d like to end up back here. Maybe I’ll represent your farm against some big, mean, agri-business corporation.”
“...Maybe.” Applejack leaned back, looking up at the sky thoughtfully. “You’re pretty much the first person I’ve talked to who ain’t freaking out about what they want to ‘do.’ I was beginning to think I was the only one.”
“Ugh. Tell me about it. It’s not a hard question. ‘What do you want?’ If you should know anything, it’s that. But no one over at Crystal Prep has any idea. It’s baffling.”
They didn’t speak for a few moments. The air felt a little weird. “Where’s Rarity going to college?” Sugarcoat asked, because abrasive bluntness was the only means she had for addressing tension.
Applejack sputtered for a moment. “Uh. Real far away.”
“Thought so. Must be tough for you, huh? Your girlfriend leaving.”
“She ain’t my girlfriend,” Applejack replied, clearly out of automatic impulse.
“But you’re in love with her,” Sugarcoat pointed out. Applejack said nothing. “I think she’s in love with you, too.”
“We’re just real different people,” Applejack argued, almost plaintive. “She travels the world and probably isn’t gonna get married until she’s forty. And she’s leaving.”
“Uh huh.” Sugarcoat gazed over her glasses witheringly. “So, what I’ve pieced together is that she wants to be your girlfriend and you keep saying no, because you’re scared of holding her back, or something stupid like that. Aaaaaand you probably just came from another argument about it, and that’s why you looked so down. Am I right?”
Applejack’s return glare was burning. “Well, maybe I just don’t want to answer that question.”
“And meanwhile, she gets on yachts and flirts with boys who look exactly like you.”
“Wait, how did you…”
“She posted like a million pictures of him on her Instagram. I’m pretty sure she tagged you in all of them just to make sure you got jealous.”
“Ggh.” Applejack rolled her eyes and sighed. “Look. I don’t know how it seems from the outside, but whatever we have isn’t gonna last through college anyhow, so…”
“Excuses.”
Applejack huffed with offense. "Some excuses are true. She's... fancy. And there ain't nothing special about me."
Sugarcoat glared, unimpressed. "What time you got?" she asked.
"Huh?" Applejack raised her wrist. "No, this ain't a watch. It's my magic token thing that I use to turn on my rainbow superpowers that..." She trailed off, noticing Sugarcoat's smirk. "Well aren't you little miss proud of herself."
"It's just silly." Sugarcoat rested her elbows on the back of the bench, gazing at Applejack with something near contempt. “I thought we were in the same situation, but you get your girl and can’t even enjoy it? Whatever.”
“The same situation? My girl? What’re you…” Applejack frowned. “Uh, exactly how similar a situation are we talking about?”
“Very similar.”
“Oh.” Applejack nodded in realization. “Sunny Flare.”
“Sunny Flare.”
“Huh.” There were a few moments where Applejack’s expression shifted awkwardly, then she gave up whatever she was trying to do and shrugged. “I know us Rainbooms and Shadowbolts are friends and all now, but man. You sure can pick ‘em.”
“It doesn’t even matter,” Sugarcoat grunted. “She isn’t into me.”
“Did she say so?”
“...No.” Admitting that felt uncomfortable, and she wasn’t quite sure why. “But I know I’m not pretty or interesting enough for her. It’d be rude to make her have to say it out loud.”
“Rude?” Applejack asked, smirking. “You’re worried about someone being rude for saying something?” Sugarcoat had never seen an expression so delighted as Applejack’s when she said, “Sounds like you’re making excuses, now.”
Sugarcoat stared. “It’s too damn hot, today,” she remarked.
“That ain’t a denial.”
“Because you’re right.” Sugarcoat lifted her glasses and rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. “You know why I want to find myself and make out with her? Because she’s the only one I can think of who’d be truthful and mean. I want her to smack me down, so I can stop this… half-hoping.”
Applejack frowned, looking annoyingly kind and empathetic. “I get it, Sugarcube. I…”
“Ugh. If you can’t even get my name right, why am I even talking to you?” Sugarcoat stood and began to walk off angrily.
“Huh? Oh, wait, no! I meant… hold on!” Applejack sputtered. Sugarcoat stopped, looking back suspiciously. “Why you doing this? Why work so hard to make yourself feel bad?”
“Because I’m honest,” Sugarcoat snapped. “That’s kind of my thing. I thought you knew all about it.”
Applejack frowned. “Look, just…” She paused for a moment, then barreled through what she had to say. “I’m not always great at remembering this either, but part of being honest is accepting the good stuff, too.”
Sugarcoat regarded Applejack coldly. She nodded once. Then she turned away and walked off.
Maud answered the somber knock on her front door. “It’s you.”
“Yes,” Maud replied. “It’s me.”
“Please, come in.” Maud stepped aside and let Maud enter before closing the door behind her.
“I like how rocky your house is,” Maud commented. “I live in a cave.”
“You’ve given me something to aspire to.”
Maud nodded. “Should we get started? I don’t know how long it takes to have an encounter with oneself, but I left my rock stew on simmer, so I can’t leave it long.”
“Yes. Please come with me.” Maud led Maud into the bedroom. “Here it is.”
“Time to start, then.”
Maud nodded. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small rock, which she placed on the mattress.
Maud, meanwhile, reached into her own pocket and pulled out an identical, small rock. She placed it abutting the first one.
They stood back and watched the two rocks.
“I can’t say I really get it,” Maud remarked. “But it’s nice to see them happy.”
Maud grunted in agreement.
Trixie’s text was less confident than the previous one. “Come to the gazebo at 5:30 today.” The immediate followup was even less confident: “Look, have an open mind, okay?”
So Sugarcoat was not surprised to see Trixie with a girl who clearly was not herself. The surprising part was that the girl was lying on her back, reading a book, while Trixie dragged her down the path by her ankles.
Partly out of pity for the straining Trixie, Sugarcoat left the gazebo and went to meet them.
“Oh!” Trixie exclaimed, still panting from exertion. “Hey! Yeah, so… hey! Look!” She took a step back and flared her arms out, presenting the reading girl like a game show prize. “It’s you!”
Sugarcoat glanced down at the girl. She looked a little bit like if a photonegative of Twilight Sparkle got left in someone’s pocket and then the pants went through several wash cycles. “Should I even say anything?”
“I know what you’re thinking, but look. She has glasses! And she’s all sardonic! She’s basically you. Right?”
The girl turned a page in her book.
“Okay. I can admit when I’ve done something unhelpful.” Trixie smacked a fist into her palm with conviction. “And so maybe bringing her here was almost unhelpful. You know, still helpful! But not as helpful as maybe it could have been.”
“Why is she lying down?” Sugarcoat asked, unable to hold the question in any longer.
“Because I’m reading,” the girl grunted, still looking at her book. “I’m not interrupting my learning just because of whatever nonsense this is. I’ll stand up when I’m done.” She fidgeted slightly, then relaxed. “Okay, fine, I’ll stand up when I’m done and when someone tells me how these stupid bodies are supposed to stand up.”
“Okay, look, seriously,” Trixie said, “we can find you. Just give us one more chance.”
“You already spent my money, didn’t you?”
“Never mind! It’ll be easy to find you. I’ll get my whole team working on this.”
“Ohhh,” Sugarcoat marveled, raising a sarcastic eyebrow. “Snips and Snails, huh?”
Trixie seethed. “And Snips and Snails!”
“Whatever. Look, this whole thing is seeming pretty stupid by this point anyway…”
“I agree!” the girl on the ground called up, turning another page in her book.
“No, come on!” Trixie argued. “I’m invested now! I’m actually getting kind of worried you’re dead.”
“Existential nightmares aren’t great selling points, Trixie.”
“Okay, fine, then: I sincerely want to help.” Sugarcoat was a little startled by the tone of Trixie’s voice, and she was even more startled when she looked up and saw the honesty in Trixie’s eyes. “I like helping people understand themselves. I’m always gonna be a great magician, of course, but… this job has made me think about majoring in psychology, becoming a counselor or something on the side. Let me just try, one more time. It matters.”
Sugarcoat wondered, for a split second, if she should pretend not to be moved by what Trixie said. She was already doing it, face stony and cold, before she decided not to. “Fine. But look, if you can’t find her, just stop trying and tell me straight up.”
“Won’t be a problem!” Trixie assured her. She put her hands on her hips and laughed with boisterous confidence. It very randomly occurred to Sugarcoat that Sunset was stupid for turning her down on that date, but she held it in.
“Fine. I’ll wait to hear from you.” She nodded once, turned around, and started walking off.
“Oh, uh hey, one thing!” Trixie called after her. “You don’t have, I dunno, a wheelbarrow or anything, do you?”
Sugarcoat stopped and looked back. She said nothing. She was beginning to feel frantic, and she really did not want it to show. She turned back and resumed walking away.
“That’s okay, I’ll just. Um. Yeah, never mind. I’ll see you.” She picked up the girl’s ankles and sighed. “It’s good for my core, I guess.”
There was no one in the world who'd rather spend time with Cinch than Cadance. Cinch was vicious, mean for no reason, demanding with no purpose, and harshly, deliberately ugly. But at least when you got sent to Cinch's principal office, you didn't have to look over at the wall and see Live, Laugh, Love staring back at you, mockingly.
Cadance sat down and sighed. Sugarcoat did have some sympathy: dealing with second-semester seniors must be frustrating. But that sympathy only made her more irritated: wouldn't it just be easier for everyone to avoid it as much as possible, then?
Cadance smiled prettily, but she had thankfully learned not to waste time with this particular student. "Your teachers are worried about you," she said. "From what I hear, your friends are worried about you. And I'm worried about you. You've caused disruptions in several classes, you've brought at least two other students to tears. I wanted to see if you would talk about whatever's going on."
Sugarcoat glared back at her sourly. "Can't you just punish me? I don't see why we have to have some big conversation."
Cadance tapped her desk idly with a manicured finger. "The only punishment I could give you that would matter is if I somehow kept you from graduating. And we both know I'm not going to do that."
"Huh." Sugarcoat chuckled. "So why shouldn't I just get up and leave?"
Cadance narrowed her eyes, and Sugarcoat realized it was the first time she had ever seen the principal exude anything but warmth. "Because as part of all this, you invaded my privacy by spying on my house last week, and I deserve an explanation why."
Sugarcoat stopped chuckling.
"As egregiously inappropriate as that behavior was, it happens to be the case that you couldn't have caused much actual harm, without the spy equipment you thankfully decided to leave behind. But you apparently think either you're subtle or I'm stupid, and in either case you need your opinion corrected."
Sugarcoat said nothing. She stupidly, flailingly try to think of a way to lie about Sunny Flare's involvement, but nothing even coherent came to mind.
Cadance sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I don't think of myself of the kind of principal who would ever say 'we can do this the easy way or the hard way,' but here we are. You can tell me what's going on, or you can clam up and force me to guess." She calmly sipped some coffee. "I'm a good guesser. Especially about love."
Sugarcoat stared down at her fists, both balled in her lap. She was squeezing very tightly. Her mind worked frantically for a few seconds and then just stopped. There was no way out.
She looked up at Cadance coldly. "I wanted to do something risky and exciting to be..." She didn't say the name, though she could have. She just chose not to. "...to be the kind of person that someone likes." She glanced away at nothing. "I can't apologize under these circumstances and have it sound sincere. But I am relieved I didn't actually see anything private, because I would feel bad about that."
"Well. I appreciate it." Cadance outright glared, at this point. "Sometimes, even insincere apologies are nice, though."
Sugarcoat squeezed her fists so hard, she thought they might explode. "I'm sorry."
Cadance nodded. "Thank you." She exhaled, and the iciness drained out of her like steam. "You do know you could have talked to me about this, right?"
Sugarcoat scowled, and it was comfortable. "I'm not asking someone for gay advice who can't even make a single gay friend."
Cadance sighed and rested her chin in her hand. "Aha. You were eavesdropping at Twilight's slumber party."
Sugarcoat went silent again.
"Sometimes, even if it's insincere, it's nice."
She couldn't even be angry anymore. "I'm sorry for that, too."
"Thanks. It's for the best, because I won't have to explain." Cadance nodded to the sign on her desk: Don't talk to me until I've had my coffee! "See that?"
"It's hard to miss."
"Well, I like it. I think it's funny." She shrugged blithely. "Because I'm super basic."
Sugarcoat blinked. "Uh."
"I resisted it for a while, but everything was just lousy. I hate foreign movies and experimental music and weird TV shows. I want to get married in my mid-twenties, with a big expensive white dress and a father-daughter dance and cute little take-home knick-knacks for all the guests. I am the kind of person who invites her extra-dimensional clone over and ends up looking at baby pictures all night. And 'all night' means 'until ten pm' because that's when I turn into a pumpkin, and yes, I'm also the kind of person who uses the phrase 'turn into a pumpkin.'"
She sighed. "I never even really understood why I was supposed to be ashamed of all that. I don't look down on anyone who's different. But when I realized it, I felt deficient somehow. I tried to be different, and it was just... annoying and anxiety-provoking. Because I am basic. I'm happy that way." She frowned kindly. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Sugarcoat glared down at her lap; her lips and throat felt dry. "This is your big advice?" she grunted.
She glared up at her principal. She hoped she wasn't letting any tears out, but her eyes had started watering and it probably had hit the point of no return and she hated that. "Your big advice is to learn to accept the way I am? I'm just stuck like this and it'd only make me miserable if I tried to change?"
"No!" Cadance gasped, looking horrified. "Of course not! I'm saying that being basic is something people might look down on, but it's something I'm choosing. I..."
"Oh, okay then, thanks," Sugarcoat snapped. "I'll just choose to be my dumb, boring self. Thanks. I already knew that. I know what the truth is. You don't need to explain it to me like I'm a kid."
"No, Sugarcoat, I..."
Sugarcoat stood up. "I'm leaving." She stormed to the door. "Expel me if you want to. But I'm going."
Cadance maybe said something else, but she wasn't listening anymore.
“I give up! You win, you win!!”
Vignette Valencia rolled away from her opponent, hugging her injured arm close to her body. For a moment, she just lay on the basement floor, panting, gingerly bending her elbow to make sure it wasn’t dislocated.
“Yes!!” a woman’s voice screeched. The camera smoothly and professionally panned over to show Vignette Valencia, wild and frantic in her victory. Despite the bruises and bloody nose, she looked great.
“I did it!” She screamed into the camera. “I am finally myself! But! Better!!!”
Like a camera flash, she instantly switched to a charming smile. “Hey y’all, make sure to like and subscribe! Byeeeeeee!”
Sugarcoat was desperate, frustrated, and dismayed, a fact that almost registered in her facial expression. This whole meeting herself thing was quickly becoming more annoying than anything else, and none of her subsequent attempts were working well. She had spent the afternoon demanding that Sour Sweet say nice things about her, and all she’d received were sincere compliments. The world was truly upside-down.
So it was partly strategic and partly emotional that she stormed up to Sunset Shimmer and fixed her with a withering glare. “What you think is kindness is actually condescension, because you were born with every advantage anyone needs to be liked by other people, and you lack perspective on how the world is challenging for others.”
Sunset, frozen, stared at Sugarcoat. She slowly finished putting the sushi down on her customer’s table. “Yeaaaah, I don’t think this is really the time or the place.”
“See? I didn’t even know that.”
“Gahhhh.” Sunset pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can take a break in ten minutes, maybe. Meet me out front.”
“And you get breaks at work.” Sugarcoat shook her head in disdain and left the restaurant.
It was almost exactly ten minutes later when Sunset came out. Sugarcoat spent the time sitting quietly and looking at her phone. She looked down at the text she’d gotten from Sunny Flare an hour earlier. It didn’t even say anything hurtful or shocking or noteworthy. It was just a text from Sunny Flare.
Sugarcoat almost cried. It was the stupidest thing. She just got this idea in her head that she wouldn’t be getting these for much longer. The Sunny texts would slowly trail off and there would be a final one, totally mundane. And then that would be it.
Sunset emerged from the restaurant doing a great impression of a person who was not upset. She walked right up to Sugarcoat and looked about ready to launch into a tirade, but then she caught herself (of course) and made a clear decision to approach this reasonably. “What,” she asked calmly, “are you doing here?”
“I’m trying to make you mad. Did it work?”
“Really more confused than anything.”
“Damn it. Hold on, I’m going to insult your band, just give me a second to come up with the right wording…”
“Sugarcoat…” Sunset rolled her eyes almost as well as a Crystal Prep student. “Seriously, is this, like, a real call for help, or can I ignore this?”
Sugarcoat grimaced, then held her bare arm out. “Here. Touch me. Do your weird magic thing.”
Sunset started back. “What? Why? I…”
“You’ll learn everything about me. But then you have to be mean about it. I’m not letting you read my brain without being mean about it after.” She glowered over the rims of her glasses. “I meant what I said before. Everything’s so easy for you. You have no idea how hard it is, even though friendship is such a big deal for you. Doesn’t that make you mad?”
Sunset took a very slow, deep breath. “You are telling me I don’t know how other people feel. To goad me into using my superpower. Which allows me to know how other people feel.”
Sugarcoat lowered her arm.
“I’m leaning to the side of ‘sincere cry for help,’” Sunset continued. “Look. I really have to get back to work. And later tonight I’m going to be busy introducing Flash to Photo Finish…”
“Uggggh,” Sugarcoat moaned. “We get it. You’re popular. You have a billion friends who are all great and everyone’s going to love each other and be best friends forever.”
“That’s not the point!” Sunset snarled so suddenly and so frighteningly that Sugarcoat involuntarily jumped back.
Sunset froze, then took a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I… really didn’t mean to yell.”
Sugarcoat didn’t reply.
“Look, I’m scared, okay?” Sunset was being annoyingly perfect at the timing and delivery of her sincere emotional openness. “I don’t want to lose the people who’re important to me, and I don’t know how that can happen after the end of this year. If I have a network, and everyone knows everyone, then... “ She trailed off, slouching her shoulders. “I know it’s dumb. But I can’t think of anything else. You get it, right?”
“...I do.” Sugarcoat crossed her arms, feeling awkward about what to do with her hands all of a sudden. “My solution is to make myself stop thinking they’re important.”
Sunset laughed bitterly. “Yeeahh. That’s a popular strategy, I think. It won’t work.”
“Your friends love you,” Sugarcoat said.
She felt about as surprised as Sunset looked when she realized the words that had come out of her mouth. She couldn’t hide the blush beginning to spread. “Well, they do. You know they do.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Well?” Sugarcoat raised her eyebrow.
Sunset stared. “That simple, huh?”
“Also you share a literal magical connection, but that’s not the important part.”
Sunset smiled wanly. “Huh. I… gotta say, I was not expecting you to make me feel better.”
“I can be hard to get along with, but my bluntness is useful sometimes.”
Sunset’s smile stopped being wan and started being outright sunny. “Your friends love you, too.”
Sugarcoat snickered, proud of herself for being able to turn it self-effacing: “My friends are people like Sour Sweet and Indigo Zap. It’s a liiiiittle different for me.”
Sunset frowned, but Sugarcoat kept going too quickly for her to reply. “And your network thing isn’t even failing. Lemon Zest has already hung out with Wallflower twice. Introduce me to Su-Z sometime, will you?”
“Huh. You seem like more of a K-Lo fan.”
“Overrated.” She hung her head; this was enough stalling. “I’m. Sorry. I came and bothered you at work.”
Sunset put her hands on her hips and tilted her head with concern. “Well, I won’t say it’s fine, but I get your freak-out. Uh, but we didn’t even really talk about…”
“I’m okay,” Sugarcoat interrupted. There was an uncomfortable pause. “Just… keep inviting me to sleepovers if any more happen. That was fun, a couple of weeks ago.”
She tried her best to smile warmly and it probably looked terrible. She turned around and walked away as quickly as she could.
“Your friends really do love you,” Sunset called after her, stopping her cold. “I can tell.”
Sugarcoat actually did start to cry then. But she didn’t turn around and she didn’t say anything back. She wanted Sunset to think she felt better after talking to her. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was what Sunset deserved.
But then something weird happened, the next day. Sour Sweet knew. Somehow, Sour Sweet of all people had the empathy and concern to realize something was wrong.
And then Indigo noticed. Indigo, who was so single-mindedly competitive she’d once tried to wrestle a giant sea turtle, put her hand on Sugarcoat’s shoulder.
And then Twilight texted her. Twilight. Antisocial, nose-in-book Twilight. It was madness.
(Lemon Zest did not notice anything, but Sugarcoat suspected she was high, so she could be forgiven.)
So when Sunny led them all into Sugarcoat’s house for an impromptu “cheer up!” party, it was almost too much to take. She had never cried in front of her friends before, never. And even though Pinkie was there for some reason (probably recruited to handle the party aspects of the little party), she felt no shame. They sat with her and didn’t ask what was wrong and it was weird how perfect it was.
Later, they ate the cake Pinkie brought (Sugarcoat didn’t have the energy to refuse it), and Sugarcoat regarded her friends almost wistfully. “Sunset told you I was upset, didn’t she?” she asked.
“Um, Sunset told me,” Twilight said. “But she didn’t tell anyone else.”
Sugarcoat believed her. “Sorry if I worried everyone,” she said.
“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Lemon Zest assured her. “It’s a weird time for everyone.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it, Cougar Float!” Pinkie chirped.
Sugarcoat regarded her. “You can stop doing that. I don’t think your rapping in the Dance Magic video was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, anymore.”
“Yeah?” Pinkie grinned wildly.
“Yeah. I saw your yacht video.”
She only got a few seconds to gloat before she was hit in the face by some cake icing.
“Lord, and they just kept coming up with distractions all night?” Applejack guffawed, shaking her head. “Leave it to Rainbow to go to all that trouble and not be able to follow through.”
“I know!” Rarity agreed, delighted. “Ahem. But, I think it’s a bit of a sensitive subject for her, so we should be careful not to make fun of her for it. Oh, and of course, we shouldn’t talk about it in front of Sunset.”
“Uh yeah, I was gonna ask about that. All this is going on behind Sunset’s back? I dunno I like that.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Rarity assured her. “Sunset is… ambivalent. She knows something is happening, and as long as she doesn’t know more than that, she can ignore it. She’s told me as much.”
“Hmm,” Applejack mused. “Well, fine. Still feels weird, though.”
“Oh?” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Using the portal behind Sunset’s back, or what Rainbow was doing?”
“Um. Well… both, I guess.”
“So, you wouldn’t want to do what she did?” Rarity asked primly. “Meet yourself for a… tryst?”
“Gah, no! Of course not.”
“I see.” Rarity crossed her arms, putting a finger to her chin in thought. “Just for clarity: when you say you wouldn’t want to, are you saying that you have no particular desire to have a tryst with yourself? Or are you saying you actively want to not have a tryst with yourself?”
Applejack froze, then raised an eyebrow. “Uhmmm…”
“In other words, you don’t want to, meaning you could take it or leave it? Or you would prefer not…?”
“Rares, you better not be asking this why I think you’re asking this.”
“Why, not at all!” Rarity gasped. “I would never suggest anything so gauche! Just. If you happened to be okay with it, and when it was going on, I happened to be nearby, then…”
“Nope.”
“Ah. Yes.” Rarity frowned thoughtfully. “...Nope meaning no not ever, or nope meaning…”
“Nope!!”
“Nope meaning nope. I see.” Rarity sighed. “...So…”
“NOPE!”
After two full days, Trixie called her. Not a text, an actual call. Sugarcoat answered it, a little nonplussed. “Hello?”
“We found her!!” Trixie exclaimed. “She was in the Crystal Empire! The Crystal Empire, Sugarcoat!”
“I don’t know what that means. This is really her, though?”
“We’re certain. And she wants to meet! The usual place, tomorrow at noon.”
“Noon? I’ll have to skip class.”
“...and?”
“And I’m a second semester senior, so noon sounds great.” She hung up without waiting for a goodbye. It was rude, she realized a second later, but she was just too agitated to care.
Sugarcoat didn’t recognize herself at first. She wasn’t wearing a blindfold, and she was just glowering at Trixie as the two of them approached the gazebo. The look on her face was very familiar, and the basic traits were the same, but everything else was shockingly different.
She wore a tight, intimidating business suit, and her hair was straight and combed back, draping like a curtain down her back. Her glasses were pert and sharp, and her demeanor was icy. As she approached, it became clear she was wearing light, classy make-up. Sugarcoat began to feel very much in over her head about this whole making out with herself thing.
Sugarcoat was taller than herself because of the high heels she was wearing, so she stared her down as she approached. She stopped in front of herself, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “You’re me,” she commented.
“Uh.” Sugarcoat coughed. “I am you.”
“Ugh,” Sugarcoat grunted, rolling her eyes. “Look at you. I have a literal pony tail, and even I think you’re overdoing it with the ponytails.”
“Um.”
“Yeah, so let me get this out of the way: I am not going to make out with you.”
Sugarcoat blinked in surprise, pulling self-consciously at one of her ponytails. “You’re not?”
“Of course not! What are you, fourteen?”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Oh, well that explains it.” She brushed nonexistent lint off her suit and sneered. “I remember being eighteen.”
She stepped to one side and then to the other, taking in her counterpart from different angles. “I came because I was curious: why in Equestria would I possibly want to do this ridiculous thing? But now I get it. It’s because in weirdo human world, I’m just eighteen again. An idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Sugarcoat grunted, feeling kind of like an idiot. “It was important.”
Sugarcoat laughed in response, a response clearly carefully formed to be cutting, which did not in any way limit its effectiveness. “Let me give you a little tip. Something I’ve wanted to tell my eighteen year-old self a long time, actually.” She leaned forward. “Everything you think is important right now? Isn’t.”
Sugarcoat opened her mouth to argue, but she was cut off. “Oh, I know it feels important. I absolutely have to beat that camp across the lake! I need to be valedictorian! The world will completely end if ever get less than an A plus in a single college course! But the truth is? The harsh truth? You will not care five seconds after each of these things is over. It’s all. Pointless.”
“But…”
“Your entire life right now is just wasted effort, just meaningless victory after meaningless victory, and you’ll look back and regret all the time you wasted on nonsense. Everything you care about, everything, is absolutely not important at all.”
“But what about my friends?”
Sugarcoat froze. Her face shifted from icy disdain to confusion. “Huh?”
“What about my friends? They’re not pointless.”
Sugarcoat somehow looked even more confused. She took a step back, looking far shorter than she had a second ago. “Wait, how old did you say you were, again?”
“Eighteen.”
“And you… have friends already? You actually put up with other ponies?”
“Well, not ponies. But yeah. They get on my nerves sometimes, but they’re my friends.”
Sugarcoat frowned, looking genuinely sad. “Well. I don’t do this a lot, but I’m taking back what I said before. It looks like you do have some important things in your life. I’m glad you were able to get there.”
“It kinda took some magic explosions and the avatar of empathy,” Sugarcoat explained, fiddling awkwardly with her handbag. "You... got there, too?"
"It took a long time. A lot of stubborn, angry, bitter years. But yeah. I got there." She sighed wistfully. "I guess I shouldn't have launched into a whole big criticism of you. It's... surprising how deeply you get motivated to chew out your younger self when you get the chance. I got carried away."
Sugarcoat considered that. "I encouraged a classmate to become a hell demon. If I ever find a way to go back in time and yell at myself for that, I'll let you know."
Sugarcoat grinned, looking oddly youthful despite her sharp suit and hair. She was almost certainly not nearly as much older as she was acting. "Thanks. I'm happy for you."
“I’m happy for you, too.” Sugarcoat replied, sincere.
The other Sugarcoat turned to Trixie, who looked vaguely disappointed they had not been making out. “I think we’re done. Time to go home, now.”
"Huh?" Trixie shook her head. "No no no. You haven't talked about cutie marks yet. You need to do that."
"Cutie marks?" Sugarcoat glared. "Why would we talk about that?"
"Yeah," Sugarcoat agreed, also glaring. "Is this because of those kids? I think we can skip the protocol set by twelve year-olds."
"No," Trixie insisted, "you just need to talk about cutie marks. I can tell these things."
Sugarcoat sighed, slicking back her immaculate hair. "Ugh, fine. But what would we even talk about? Is your cutie mark different from mine?"
"I don't have a cutie mark."
That caught Sugarcoat up. She blinked in surprise. "You don't have your cutie mark yet?"
"We don't get those. And please bear with me during this conversation. You cannot have perspective on how stupid the phrase 'cutie mark' is if you're not used to it."
Sugarcoat considered that. "Fair enough." She reached into her suit pocket and pulled out an expensive-looking, gold pocketwatch. "This appeared in my clothes when I came through the portal. Please don't ask me about the metaphysics; I don't know." She held out the watch; on the cover was an intricate etching of a striped firecracker with two large sparkles. "This is my cutie mark."
Sugarcoat frowned. "I recognize that. This was a design on a hairpin I used to have. I really liked it."
"Well, there you go," Sugarcoat replied, sliding the watch back into her pocket. "You do have one; it's just not on your body."
Sugarcoat shuddered. "I've decided not to think too hard about the fact that my mystical, personal symbol was designed by some corporation and then sold to me at a Hot Topic. So what's the story? How'd you get it?"
"I was visiting my father on campus one day, and I saw that there was a student debate tournament scheduled for that afternoon. I walked right up and insisted they let me participate, even though I wasn't a student and I was ten. I think they all thought it was very adorable and hilarious, so they let me in."
Sugarcoat could feel herself smirking. "And you won?"
"What do you think?" Sugarcoat smirked back. "I demolished them. By the end of it, I was the only contestant who wasn't in tears."
"Huh." Sugarcoat considered that. "So your special talent is... making everyone cry?"
Sugarcoat played idly with the sleeve of her business coat, a gesture that was not familiar at all. "Well. There was a righteous element to it, too. My opponent in the finals was a unicorn who I'm fairly sure was a racist." She paused, then sighed. "Ugh, I don't want to have to explain all that to you. Basically, I'm an earth pony, which means I don't have a horn or wings. And even though earth ponies dominate academia and the physical sciences, we're still seen as rubes by certain unicorns. The mark appeared when I beat her." She looked away, stony-bashful, and that was a familiar gesture. "But yes. At the time, I thought it was just about being able to make ponies cry, and I was very proud of that. Ugh, I was insufferable."
"But it actually means something different?" Sugarcoat asked, resenting the hopefulness in her tone. "I used to like that hairclip because the firecracker looks harmless and innocent, but it's actually dangerous. Or since you were debating, maybe it just means you can formulate arguments well?"
"Maybe?" Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't ever really think about it."
Sugarcoat stared at herself, perplexed. Every time she thought she understood magic ponies, she ended up more surprised. "How could you not care? It's your special thing. It's what you're going to be best at. The only thing. That sounds worth thinking about to me!"
"...Wait." The disbelieving giggle in the erstwhile pony's voice was absolutely cutting and infuriating. "You couldn't possibly actually think that's how it works. Do you really believe I go around thinking my entire life is determined by a picture appearing on my flank when I was ten?"
"Well, it's true," Sugarcoat insisted, coldly. "So yes, I did think that would be the way you think about it."
"That's how kids think about it." her counterpart snapped. "I guess it's an important stage of development, or whatever, but once you get it, it doesn't matter. If ponies were limited by their cutie marks, it... I can't think of anything more depressing."
"Oh, so I guess it all just doesn't matter, huh?" Sugarcoat could feel an iciness in her fingers and chest. It was comfortable. It was nice. "I guess anyone can do anything, right? It doesn't matter what's true about them."
"Uhh." Pony Sugarcoat glanced at Trixie, then back at herself. "You're being really defensive about this."
"Because it's the truth!" Sugarcoat snapped. "It might be nice to pretend you're not a firecracker, but you are. If I'm boring and ugly, and all I'm good for is making everyone cry, then it doesn't do anyone any good if I go around lying to myself about it!"
There was a pause, and Sugarcoat realized she had been yelling. "Ah," her doppelganger said. "That's why you're defensive of it. Because you can't think of anything more depressing, either. And wrecking your hopes was the whole reason you wanted me to come here."
"I told you it'd be a good idea to talk about cutie marks," Trixie remarked.
Sugarcoat turned her head to look at Trixie, which was useful both because it allowed her to stop thinking about herself and because this chick was absolutely infuriating. She could have walked right up to her. She could have started talking, making it up as she was going, confident it'd be perfect anyway.
"None of this Equestria stuff is going to make her like you," she could have said. Trixie was obviously not over Sunset; she'd clearly asked her out much more recently than Wallflower or Rainbow. It would all be very easy. "Do you actually believe you're good enough for her? You think you can compete with people like K-Lo, people who are actually talented, who aren't reduced to doing terrible magic shows in community centers? Ugh, do you actually think she ever even thinks about you? You do know you're just part of that 'friend network' she has. No one wants you around except to laugh at you. God, it's just embarrassing. Or is that the point? You know what everyone says about you, and you get off on it, or something? Gross. Don't drag Sunset into your sick little stuff."
She didn't say any of that. She didn't say anything. Whatever thrill she thought she'd get from even imagining it never came; instead, she just felt nauseated and sad. The truth was: Trixie made her look like a coward by comparison. The truth was: she didn't want to be cruel, because it would only make her friends disappointed in her if they knew.
"Shush," she said to herself. She talked over to the nearby bench and plopped herself down. "Just... shush. I'll say it. Just wait a moment."
It was more than one moment, but both Trixie and the Equestrian were patient. Finally, Sugarcoat raised up her head. "I wanted to meet you so you could set me straight. You would just tell me the truth about myself so I could stop... hoping."
"But?"
"But. That was my logical flaw. Hoping isn't about what I am. Hoping is about what I will be. And there is no 'truth' about that, because it hasn't happened yet."
She felt a strangely gentle hand on her shoulder. "My cutie mark did mean something when I was ten. That was me, and I have to be honest with myself about that. But that's not the same thing as pretending that's all I can ever be. You've got to just decide what you want to be, and if you fail, then you fail. Anything else..."
"...Would be dishonest." Sugarcoat groaned, slapping a palm against her face. "This is exactly what someone really annoying was trying to say to me recently. Now I'm going to have to go apologize to her again."
There was the quick sound of a pocketwatch opening and closing again. "Don't get too caught up about it. Graduating sucks for everyone. Your friends will help." Sugarcoat stood, nudging Trixie with her elbow. "Come on, I really have to get home."
"Oh, already?" Trixie smiled shamelessly. "Well, I trust you're satisfied with your Mirror Match Inc,. experience?"
Sugarcoat couldn't do much in response but nod, but the sentiment seemed to get through. She watched the magician leading herself away, and she felt dazed. But before they got too far, the other Sugarcoat stopped Trixie and looked back. “Oh! I am super non-binary, by the way. Are you?"
Sugarcoat blinked, completely bemused. "I have no idea. I've never thought about it."
"Well, just a piece of data. Good luck, kid."
Applejack froze in surprise when she saw Sugarcoat sitting on the hood of her old pickup truck, playing with their phone. Sugarcoat waved, and Applejack confusedly walked closer. “Uh. Ain’t you supposed to be in school?”
“Eh.” Sugarcoat hopped off the truck and brushed off the seat of their jeans. “I’m glad I guessed right, which one was yours,” they said, gesturing around the high school’s parking lot. “It seemed like an educated guess, but I still wasn’t sure.”
Applejack still looked confused. “You’ve just been waiting here? For me?”
“Yes. I wanted to talk to you.”
“Well, you’re lucky I had a free period, or else there’d be a million kids all walking around. What do you need?”
Sugarcoat felt bashful. This was perhaps the most alien feeling they could possibly have, but they couldn’t deny it: bashfulness. “Well, first, I’m trying out they/them pronouns. I don't know how I'm going to end up feeling about it, but. So. yeah. Trying for now.”
“Well… all right, then. I’m probably not gonna be calling you a pronoun in this conversation, though, so…”
“Still.” They looked skeptically at Applejack, who nodded warmly. “Okay. Second thing is, I just finally met myself.”
“Yeah? How was it?”
“...weird.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Yeah.” Sugarcoat rubbed the back of their neck nervously. “I liked them, and I recognized parts of myself in them. They helped me realize some things I really needed. But when I look back on the whole interaction, there's a whole lot about them I didn't get. They carried a pocketwatch, like a weirdo. It didn’t feel like talking to me, at all.” They paused. “I more feel that way, uh. Talking to you.”
They decided not to let Applejack respond and to just keep talking. "We haven’t talked much, but when we do, I… always feel better. I think it’s because we have a lot of things in common, and well, the things we share are. Um. Things about myself that I like. If I got to choose, I'd want you to be my mirror match. Not them.”
Applejack blinked, touching her fingers to her chest. “These are dang flattering and nice things you’re saying.”
“Thank you. So I just wanted to stop by and… say I wanted to be friends. The kind that try to stay in touch even when we’re at different colleges. It might not work out, and it might not be what you want, but… well, it’s what I want, and I felt like I should tell you.”
“Gosh.” Applejack thought seriously for a moment, then smiled again. “I’d love that, Sugarcoat. I get what you’re saying about having things in common. It’d be great to stay friends.”
Sugarcoat smiled in a way that felt odd and sincere. “Oh. But you have to do one thing, first.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Tell Rarity you’re in love with her, and you want to keep dating.”
“Gahh!!” Applejack barked, literally jumping backwards. “Wha… what’re you…”
“It’s the truth,” Sugarcoat stated plainly.
Applejack looked stunned into silence. She crossed her arms and regarded Sugarcoat suspiciously. “Well, you gotta tell Sunny Flare you’re in love with her.”
“I’m going to.” Sugarcoat felt tall and strong, like they had as many muscles as Applejack had. “This evening.” They nodded firmly. “She doesn’t love me back, I know that. But my feelings are my feelings. I have to be honest about them.”
Applejack twiddled her fingers anxiously, but she was still standing firm. “...yeah. Yeah, fine. I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Sugarcoat smirked. “I’ll text you later? I have to go psych myself up.”
“...yeah. Lord, me too, apparently.”
Sugarcoat gave her a sly thumbs-up and started walking out of the parking lot. They paused and glanced over at the school building, and then, on complete impulse, they took out their phone and sent a text to Trixie. “Try asking Sunset out again in a couple of months, when she’s not so anxious about graduation.”
Then, feeling almost stupidly gleeful, they resumed walking.
Poses were not second-nature to Sunny Flare. Every time, they were considered, constructed. She would not be so good at them otherwise.
So, she was certain, even in this bizarre, lanky body, that she was standing just the perfect way when her counterpart finally noticed her. This teenage Sunny’s mouth fell open, of course, but then she immediately recovered and walked over with a perfect stride herself, of course.
“Well,” she said, ignoring the confused looks of her schoolmates. “Are you who I think you are, dearie?”
“The very same, dearie,” Sunny replied, grinning.
“It’s delightful to see you, of course, but to what do I owe this honor? And how did you even find me?”
“Oh, finding you was simple: I simply asked someone what the classiest place they knew was, and then, after I got there, I asked someone there what the classiest place they knew was. It only took three iterations to make my way here.” She crossed her arms, smirking. “As for why I’m here, I’m afraid it’s a bit of a misunderstanding. I thought my partner was being kidnapped, because what else would one think when two hooligans barge in and slap a blindfold on someone? So I followed them, and when I realized it was just some sort of mirror-meeting, I decided I might as well go looking for myself.”
“You found her!” Sunny replied, twirling like a model. “Although, when you say ‘partner,’ you…”
“I mean ‘partner,’” Sunny clarified, accenting the word so there could be no doubt about its meaning.
“Hmmm. Well, I must admit I’m a bit put off. Don’t tell me I’ve settled down already!” Sunny sighed. “How disappointing that any version of me would be so dull.”
“Oh, it's so adorable,” Sunny replied, smiling like a coyote. “You do look a few years younger than me. I suppose I shouldn’t expect you not to be a bit immature.”
“Hah!” Sunny said, smiling back like an alligator. “I guess it isn’t surprising someone as old as you would prefer boredom to fun and excitement.” She sniffed haughtily. “It’s perfectly reasonable for me to enjoy myself with some frivolous fun, now and again. One must enjoy one’s youth!”
Sunny paused for a moment before letting out a laugh. She genuinely hadn’t meant to; the game she had been playing with herself was an absolute blast, but this silly, undignified laugh just slipped out. She relaxed, the character broken. “You… really think that’s true, don’t you?”
The other Sunny was still playing, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Of course I do.”
Sunny laughed again, her genuine, actual laugh. “I envy you, truly. It’s going to completely blindside you.”
Sunny frowned and picked uncomfortably at her school uniform, clearly sensing something was wrong. “What are you talking about?”
“You actually think this frivolous, meaningless nonsense is what you want. Just whiling away the time until things somehow magically become serious.” She leaned forward, smirking. “You have no. Idea. Excitement? Diversion? Dearie.”
She leaned very close, almost seductively. “Just you wait. Wait for the day when someone says to you that they love you, plain and stark, and you just know without even thinking about it that it’s the. Honest. Truth. You won’t see it coming, but when it happens…” She trailed off, almost breathless. “When it happens, you’ll know what excitement really is.”
Grinning, she kissed herself on both cheeks. “I should probably get back home to Equestria, dearie. It’s been so nice talking with you.”
The last vision she had of her counterpart was a shocked, gaping expression. She turned and slinked away, musing with pride that she’d won the game, after all.
