“So we’ve got the venue taken care of, and the announcements. I just dropped off the copy to the Ponyville Express, so that’s taken care of. Um.” Princess Twilight was speaking quickly, matching her cadence with her pace. Cheerilee had to nearly trot to keep up, and poor Spike’s wings buzzed, pushing him forward enough to keep up with the agitated princess.
“I’d also like a copy for the Foal Free Press, if that’s okay, Princess.”
Princess Twilight stopped in her tracks, blinking a few times. She lifted an errant hoof up to wipe at her eyes; a common sight the past few days. “Right. O-of course. Spike, could you…?”
“On it, Twi.” The dragon jotted down a note on his ever-present clipboard.
“Thanks. I know most of my students already know when the memorial’s going to be, but it’ll be nice to have something in the school newspaper.”
“Yeah. Um.” Princess Twilight looked lost. It was the sort of face Cheerilee was used to seeing on their resident royalty, especially when her train of thought was derailed. She would have laughed, in other circumstances. Now she simply waited patiently for the mental train cars to reattach. “Oh! We still have the flowers to arrange, the catering for the luncheon, and have you gotten in touch with Still Waters yet?”
“The grief counselor? He’s reached out, yes. I’ve let him know when school hours are, so he can come by and talk to the foals.”
“No, I meant for you.”
“I’m fine, Princess.” Cheerilee swallowed a lump in her throat. She was fine. Totally fine. “You mentioned flowers and catering? I thought Sugarcube Corner would handle that.”
“Not alone. I don’t think cookies and cupcakes are entirely appropriate for… for…” The princess paused, stumbling over the words. She gulped, loudly, and clenched her eyes shut. Silently, Spike walked up beside her and held out his claws for a hug, which the princess took gladly.
“I’ll take care of the flowers, if that will help,” Cherillee offered. “One more thing to get off your list.”
“No, I can… I can…” Tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes, and Twilight shook her head with frustration. “I’m sorry. Yes, please. That would be helpful.”
“The crown will compensate you,” Spike said, while Twilight nodded. “Also, Sugarcube Corner is doing part of the catering, but Filthy Rich also offered to help. And Sweet Apple Acres, of course. The luncheon will have plenty of food. But somepony needs to organize who’s bringing what, okay? If you want.”
“I’m on it,” Cheerilee said. It was the least she could do.
“Talk to the grief counselor!” Twilight sniffed as Cheerilee trotted away. Cheerilee simply smiled back patiently at her. She was fine. Really.
“I’ve got my entire stock of vegetables, fruits, baked goods. You name it, Miss Cheerilee. Whatever we can provide is yours.” Filthy Rich’s voice was soft and subdued, a long cry from his usual bombastic aplomb. They sat in his office, the carpeted affair with wood-panel walls and a desk that felt too large for the room. The last time Cheerilee was here had been years ago, for a little chat with Filthy about his daughter's misbehavior. Now, of course, the old pictures of Filthy’s ex had been replaced by a framed photo of Diamond Tiara and Applebloom, hugging and smiling.
“You need any other sort of supplies, we’ll comp it as well. You just tell me what you need.”
“The Princess tells me you’re splitting catering duties with the Cakes and AJ, Mister Rich. I don’t think they’ll need much, but anything you can offer is kind.”
“Seems like the whole town is contributin’,” he nodded. “Even my little Diamond is helping to plan the vigil.”
“Not so little any more,” Cheerilee said. “I’ve been very impressed by how far she’s come from those days when they were all foals together.”
“You mean, when she was a bully?” Filthy said shrewdly.
Cheerilee nodded.
“I have no illusions over what my daughter was. I’m only happy those three angels were able to help her see the light soon enough. I just can’t believe…”
“Me neither.” They both lapsed into silence, looking anywhere but each other.
“She was too young,” Filthy whispered, after the silence became too unbearable. Cheerilee nodded. “I heard… Diamond told me Princess Twilight arranged for a grief counselor for your students. She said he was pretty good.”
“Diamond is doing very well, thanks to his help,” Cheerilee agreed.
“Do you think there’s room in his schedule for the grown-ups, too?” He looked up finally, and even his eyes were full of tears. It made Cheerilee sit up in shock.
“I… I think so. I had no idea you’d grown so close to…” the name caught in her throat. Filthy nodded.
“I owe the Crusaders a debt I can’t pay, Miss Cheerilee. Their friendship really helped my Diamond throughout the divorce, and the court battle. And with Bloom and Diamond seeing each other… well, all four of them have been spending a lot of time at the house. I could use a little grief counseling myself.”
“I’m sure Still Waters has time for you.”
“So have you—”
“I’m fine,” Cheerilee cut him off, trying to keep her voice even. Controlled. Patient. She was completely fine. “I’m just trying to take some of the burden off the Princess, so I’ll be coordinating the catering between you, Applejack, and the Cakes. It might make sense for you to provide vegetables and savory items.”
“Whatever you need, Miss Cheerilee.” Filthy peered closely at her face. “Perhaps it’s none of my business, but how are you…”
“Busy,” Cheerilee interrupted. “Sorry. Thanks for your help. I’m sure the family will be grateful for your help.” She stood to leave before Filthy Rich could ask any more questions. “I’m off to talk to the flower girls.”
Talking to the flower girls was a mistake, though Cheerilee couldn’t begrudge them a bit of overreaction. All three were a mess, with tear stains down their cheeks. At least they had the floral arrangements all ready to go. She was able to cut through the sniffles and whimpers to iron out the final details, such as the time of delivery, the venue (the Castle of Friendship), the arrangements, and so on. Everything was fine, until Roseluck managed to sniffle out a single phrase.
“You… you doing okay, Cheerilee?”
She couldn’t help the huff of angry air. “I’m fine. It’s fine.” She was fine. Her students all looked to her as an example. She prided herself as being a pillar of strength, a rock they could anchor to in their grief and misery. She had to be fine.
“Well, okay, but…”
“Good day, Roseluck,” Cheerilee spun as quickly as politeness allowed, nearly running right into a short, thin pegasus stallion standing there. “Ah! Sorry!” She jerked back, yelping her apology at the calm looking pegasus, who blinked a few times in shock and straightened his glasses. “Still Waters!”
“Hello, Cheerilee? Walk with me for a moment?”
Immediately she was filled with concern. “Of course. I’m heading back to the Castle next; Spike said he’d get me a copy of the obituary, so we can print it in the school newspaper. You can come with me, if you like.” It had to be one of her students having a hard time. Her heart pounded with nervous fear, her mind racing. Who was having the hardest time handling the loss? Probably one of her students, former or current. She began trotting through the Ponyville market, towards the towering crystal castle in the distance.
“Sure.” He trotted alongside her casually, his voice calm and even. “I wanted to talk to you about some concerns I’m having.”
Her heart sank. “Which one of them? It’s Scootaloo, isn’t it?” Scootaloo was too much like Rainbow Dash; all heart and courage, nothing held back. The grief was probably tearing her to pieces.
“It’s not Scootaloo.”
“Apple Bloom, then?” She’d always been the leader of the Crusaders, so maybe she was feeling some guilt. There was often some misplaced guilt when a friend died unexpectedly, even though it clearly wasn’t Bloom’s fault. Perhaps…
“It’s not Apple Bloom.” Still Waters said simply, and Cheerilee huffed. She was losing her patience. She took a few calming breaths. In and out, in and out. “There’s a pony I’m worried about who seems to be hiding from her grief. She’s burying herself in her work, not letting herself feel the hurt and anger. It’s not healthy, and several others have spoken up.”
“I’m not stupid,” Cheerilee stopped, stomping a hoof against the street. “I know who you’re talking about.” So Twilight and Filthy had tattled on her, had they? She stomped her hoof a second time. “I’m fine. I’m fine! I don’t need some shrink looking over my shoulder, analyzing me and second guessing me! I don’t have time for it! I’ve got my students to look after and a funeral to help arrange. Waste your time on somepony else!”
The last had probably been too much, she realized, from the look on Still Water’s face. It was the same look she’d given to a hundred foals, whenever they lashed out in anger or pain. Something in that look snapped her patience into a thousand pieces, and she spun, whipping her mane hard in her haste.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Waters. Go find somepony who really needs your help.”
She didn’t stop to listen to his cries of protest, but the sound of his pleas chased her down the road.
Cheerilee ran as fast as she could back to the castle. Spike was there, waiting with the copy. She stuffed it in her saddlebags to pass on to Pound Cake, who’d taken over as Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper now that Featherweight was focusing on his senior year. Once that was done, though, she felt lost. Unanchored. Spike had said there was nothing more to arrange for now.
Well, there were always lesson plans. School was out for a few days, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get a head start, right? As long as Still Waters didn’t come look for her at the school.
Cheerilee’s trot started out slow, but after a while she was running, galloping. Maybe if she ran fast enough, she could outpace…
She buried the thought deep until she reached Ponyville Elementary. It was dark and silent. Everypony had been given the week off, after the news had crushed the town. It was well enough; ponies needed time to recover from a tragedy like that. She moved up to the door, breathing heavily from the run, and slipped inside.
It was quiet inside. Still, perhaps even peaceful. Cheerilee wanted to pretend that would be enough. It wasn’t like she was hurting like some of the others. She was perfectly fine. She just needed a little space from everypony badgering her.
She walked through the rows of desks, looking at each one. Memories came back, one at a time. Here was where she was sitting when Cheerilee had first met her, with her bright, eager eyes and her squeaky, cheerful voice. Here was where she’d sat, every day, bright and smiling and ready to learn. Cheerilee stopped on the spot right in front of her desk, remembering the time she and her friends had brought her a Hearts and Hooves day card so big it had buried them. Her voice came back, filling the room, echoing off the walls, stuffing Cheerilee’s ears until she wanted to scream.
How can somepony like you not have a special somepony for Hearts and Hooves day?
No. She was fine. Fine!
You may have gone just a teeny-tiniest bit nutty.
This was bad. She couldn’t…
And our journey here is never really done!
But her journey was done. Gone. Still. Silent. LIke this dark, dead classroom.
You’re the best, Miss Cheerilee.
Empty desk. No more...
I can't wait to see who we're gonna help next!
A raw, unhinged sob, sharp like shattered glass, ripped out of Cheerilee’s throat, filling the empty space of the classroom. It echoed off the walls, bouncing between empty desks that Sweetie Belle would never again sit in, shooting past chalkboards that Sweetie Belle would never again write on, and vibrating windows that Sweetie Belle would never again gaze out longingly, waiting for the bell to ring. It was a violent, hateful sound, and Cheerilee was barely able to draw in enough breath in between sobs. She screamed and cried, railed and wept, yelled and shouted and raged. A week’s worth of bottled grief unleashed on an empty room.
And when it was over, a wing wrapped around her back. She’d never heard the door open.
“It’s unfair,” she rasped. She felt, rather than heard, Still Waters’ nod.
“I know. It hurts. That’s okay. Let’s talk about it.”
