Tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat.
That's what I woke up to.
Tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat.
That steady sort of drumming rain against my window.
Tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat.
Truth be told, I don't think I slept very much. And the few hours I had managed only made me feel more tired, but it was finally morning and it felt good to kick the bed covers away and stumble into the bathroom.
Mostly, I think the reason for my bad sleep was the anxiety I was feeling for my exam results. The weeks had crept along at a snail's pace, with the final day before seemingly lasting forever. Now that the day was here, however, the clock was making good of its laziness. All at once, an hour passed and I'm not quite sure how I was involved in it.
It was still raining when I zombie-marched over to the taxi carriage, which completely ruined my mane, and my Mum was doing her best not to look too disheartened by it. I remember a teacher telling me of a literary technique that had something to do with the weather (rain is bad), so maybe that's what she was worried about. She certainly wasn't soaked through. Unlike me.
The thought of meeting all my friends again kept me from feeling the cold too much. At least at first. Seven weeks is a long time as it is and seven weeks without Fly, Mew-Mew or Rarity to laugh and joke with dragged like hay. Plus, the looming threat of failure, usual stresses, parents and hormones shooting every which-way, I think it's safe to say that my “holiday” was really in name only.
“Have you got everything, honey?” Mum asked, gripped by a look that simply read: Don't you dare.
“Yes, Mum,” I said, trying desperately to wring out my fringe. “Dad's just bringing the last few bits.”
Things I Hate Most Today (Descending Order):
1) Snobby, annoying, stupid colts.
2) Failure and possible friendship-ectomy.
3) Frizzy and unfabulous hair due to rain.
“Sorry, sorry,” Dad said, appearing only in sodden silhouette against the rain. He climbed in hurriedly and slapped the taxi's side to get the driver going.
“It's okay, dear,” Mum said, reaching over me to pat his shoulder affectionately. “We've got plenty of time to spare.” Her expression wasn't quite so warm when it came to fall on me, “Are you sure you've got everything?”
“Yep,” I replied, concentrating almost exclusively on trying to get my fringe to sit comfortably.
“Toothbrush?”
“Yep.”
“Only you forgot your toothbrush that one-”
“One time. Four years ago. Yes Mum, I have my toothbrush.” Nopony spoke much after that and I was grateful for the ten or so minutes of silence. Of course, all too soon we arrived at the local train station and Mum was back to DEFPON-5. It was only after a minor luggage kerfuffle with the conductor, an incident involving much swearing and hollering, that she finally allowed her anxiety to ease off to a manageable level. In her own way, I really think she was just trying to show me how much she's going to miss me. It's sweet. And infuriating.
The train ride was a nice little break from them too. They went into one of the quieter carriages to get some sleep, so I was left to my own devices. The journey would take a good few hours because my parents seemed to love living as far from civilisation as ponily possible, while I, on the other hoof, would have much preferred to live nearer Crestminster in order to stay in touch more easily with life. I mean, have you ever arrived at school with a perfectly out-of-fashion mane, looking ridiculous, while your best friend, who has been living in place that would make Coronwall (where I live) look like a metropolis, has somehow managed to stay in? Though saying that, Rarity has always been such a beautiful pony. No doubt she's the one setting the trends I can't keep up with.
Ugh, I miss her a lot. And my friends.
I'd miss them more if I ended getting sent back a year though. Or if I failed to get back into Crestminster Academy for Young Fillies (CAYF from now on) at all. You see, due to an excruciatingly long postal strike, the start of the new term, and results day happened to be on the same day that year. Can you imagine? I'm going to school to find out if I'm allowed to get passed the entrance! If I don't get the grades, there's no real backup plan, no safety net. I have nothing to fall back on.
Imagined Back-Up Plans:
1) Private Detective.
2) Pokemon Trainer.
3) Piano Bar Performer.
I'd really love to be a private detective. I wouldn't be much good at it, but I always loved reading Sherclop Pones stories when I was little. I really loved the Red-Maned League. If you haven't already, you should really read it. Classic Pones.
Anyway.
We disembarked a few hours later and made the short walk to my school. My parents waited outside while I trotted up the long drive heart in my throat. CAYF, as our headmare enjoyed reminding us, was a properly proper school. Hundreds of famous and successful ponies had been there and the honour of graduating was pretty much enough to land you any job you wanted. Even then it was a bit snobby for me, but at the time it felt like you needed that kind of protection in order to just get by in life.
It's funny how precarious the top can be.
“Cat!”
I couldn't quite put my mind as to whose voice it belonged to at first, which is why I was so startled by Rarity's sudden embrace.
“Rarity!” I squealed, hugging her just as tightly.
“Come on,” She said, leading me forward, “They're handing out our results in the main hall.” There wasn't time to say anything more so we walked along hurriedly, slithering past hundreds of ponies and their parents who all seemed to be overjoyed with the slips of paper they were holding. I recognised a good deal of them, but I was much too focussed on the fact that Rarity was holding my hoof to care. It just kind of made me smile all over...
I was lonely, okay.
“So, Rarity, how were your holidays?” We had stopped near the centre of the hall. Somepony in a suit called out that the next batch of results would take about ten minutes to sort, so we just had to sit tight. It didn't bother me so much, if I'd waited this long I could last a few minutes more. Rarity, on the other hoof, was less than thrilled.
“Fine, darling. Fine,” she responded neutrally after a good few minutes. “Have you seen Mew-Mew or Fly?”
“Nope, just you so far.” If I had to say, and I probably shouldn't, I think I was closer with Fly than with Mew-Mew. She was quiet and nice, Mew-Mew was nice too, and fun, but she was a total blabber-mouth. She once told everypony that I had a crush on Twister Kick! I mean, ugh, as if.
Talking of.
“Hey Rarity, Cat,” Mew-Mew cried, upon us all at once, “Guess what? Guess what?”
“Hey!” We both exclaimed, trapped in an awkward three-way hug.
“So, did you guess?” She demanded, jumping on the spot with excitement. We looked at each other and shrugged. “No? Well, anyway: Fly has a very special somepony!”
“Miriam, I told you not to say anything,” Fly called from behind, giving her an indignant shove as she joined us.
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”
“Who is this somepony?” Rarity asked innocently, no doubt resisting the urge to bully Fly into telling immediately.
“Who's yours, Rarity?” She countered smoothly, looking down at our interlocked hooves. Rarity released me as if I were toxic and no more was said: we were being called up to retrieve our results.
This is what I was given:
GCEE (General Certificate of Equestrian Education) Results.
Student Name: Toccata.
Student Number:B320.
Maths: B
Equestrian Language: A*
Equestrian Literature: A
Physics: C
Chemistry: C
Biology: A
Drama: B
Music: A*
History: A*
Magic: B
P.E: C
R.E: B
You needed at least a C grade in every subject to continue studying at CAYF.
I was in.
