The Greatest Slugger of Them All

by libertydude

Rating: everyone
Tags: Aunt Lofty, Scootaloo, Aunt Holiday, Cheerilee, Diamond Tiara, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 6188

Auntie Lofty had a past she didn't want to talk about. Scootaloo had a classroom that was dying to know.

Scootaloo arrives home one day, breathless and asking Auntie Lofty to do a presentation for Family Appreciation Day. Unfortunately, Scootaloo only wants the one part of Lofty's life she's not that eager to share.

An interpretation of Lofty's past featuring a popular sport.

Takes place just before and during "Family Appreciation Day".

Written for Bicyclette's Lofty and Holiday Contest.

Now part of the Winter Dreams, Summer Reminisces collection.

Published 2022-07-31 21:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-07-31 21:30:01 UTC

The Wind-Up

“Auntie Lofty!” Scootaloo hollered, bursting through the door with more speed and force than should’ve been possible. The door slammed against the wall, the reverberation shaking throughout the entire house. Scootaloo flipped head over heels, coming to a harsh stop once she landed beside Holiday’s leather recliner. “I need you to come to Family Appreciation Day!” she gasped.

Lofty’s eyes had already shot up from her quilt, staring at her panting niece from her quilting table. The sweaty and disheveled filly was a shocking sight to see after the last few hours spent staring at patchwork of smiling dolphins and swaying coral. Behind Scootaloo, the filly’s scooter was sticking out of the dirt, the front embedded in the ground and the back wheels still furiously spinning in the air. A faint trail of dust followed behind the scooter’s resting place, each curvature leading back toward Ponyville.

Lofty’s eyes, normally burdened with perpetual bags, widened into a mirthful gaze. “That’s what you raced all the way back here for?” the thin mare queried.

Scootaloo’s head furiously bobbed up and down.

“What, are they collecting the permission forms in five minutes?”

“No, but we need to plan it out!” Scootaloo said between pants. “If you come tomorrow, you can get it done before you and Aunt Holiday go on, well, holiday!”

Lofty chuckled. “Shoot, slugger, you didn’t need to run yourself ragged for that.”

“I know, I know! It’s just-” Excitement overcame the filly, and she began to run around the room. The couches and chairs that normally granted the tenants rest and reprieve became improvised blockades in a makeshift obstacle course. An orange blur rushed around the furniture, stopping only to hop atop the couch and let out inarticulate squeals of joy.

“What’s all this ruckus?” a soft, yet firm voice called out. Lofty and Scootaloo looked toward the hallway to see a scarlet-maned mare trot toward them. Her body was slightly plump, though not in a disagreeable way; everything from her head to her thick legs seemed to fit her rotund form perfectly.

“Oh, Aunt Holiday!” Scootaloo said, zooming over to the mare and jogging in place. “Tomorrow’s the first day of Family Appreciation Day and I told Miss Cheerilee that you guys would only be in town for two more days and I asked if I could have my family member come tomorrow and she said yes and oh my Celestia this is perfect!” She took off running again, cartwheeling around Holiday. The mare could only stare in bemusement at her spinning niece, while Lofty emanated nothing but delight at the rambunctious filly.

“Shoot, we should just attach a windmill to her!” Lofty guffawed. “We’d get enough power to last us the rest of the year.”

With a firm but gentle hoof, Holiday reached out and grabbed Scootaloo’s wheeling form. Fortune landed Scootaloo right-side up, though her eyes continued to spin for a moment in her aunt’s grasp.

“Now, Scootaloo,” Holiday said in a kindly voice, her hooves gripping the filly tight and holding her aloft. “Family Appreciation Day is a lovely event and all, but do you mind explaining why you’re in such a tizzy about it?”

“Oh, sorry,” Scootaloo said with a sheepish grin. “I guess I didn’t tell you about Pop Fly.”

Holiday tilted her head. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“Oh, he’s one of my classmates. He’s really into baseball and-“

Lofty’s face fell. “Ah,” she said. “So that’s why you wanted me to come.”

Holiday saw her partner’s disposition, concern filling her own face. However, she managed to twist her slight frown into a soft smile and shook her head at Scootaloo. “Of course. Always a boy.”

Scootaloo’s face turned beet red. “N-No! Not like that!” she squeaked, her legs kicking. “I-I just think he’s cool!”

Lofty and Holiday gave each other knowing looks. “Cool, eh?” Lofty said, a thin grin spreading across her face. “That’s always how it starts, isn’t it, Holly?”

“Indeed,” Holiday said, easing Scootaloo to the ground. She began to circle around Scootaloo, her head shaking in admonishment. “Be his friend, you tell yourself. Play a couple games. Nothing serious. Just a little fun with the cool colts.”

Lofty eased from her chair and joined in Holiday’s circle around their niece. “And one day, cool colts become cute colts.”

“And cute colts become cute stallions.”

“And cute stallions become handsome stallions.”

“And by the time you realize what’s going on, it’s too late.” Holiday came to a stop and stared deep into Scootaloo’s eyes, her own face filled with fear. “Those handsome stallions whisk you away and your poor aunties never see you again…”

Scootaloo stared at them, her eyes darting between the two of them as they stared forlornly down at her.

Then, with a harsh laugh, she shook her head.

“You guys are pulling my leg!” she said in a voice that tried to sound offended, but couldn’t hide the amusement in her tone.

The two mares grinned and swept the filly up in a shared hug. “That we are, Scoots!” Lofty said, snuggling into the filly’s purple mane.

“Well, mostly,” Holiday said, patting Scootaloo’s back. “You will start thinking colts are cute one day.”

“You guys didn’t!” Scootaloo said.

Holiday and Lofty looked at each other, each trying to gauge how the other would respond.

“Oh, you’d be surprised, Scoots,” Lofty said, her tone rueful. “The road Holly and I took to find each other had more than a few stallions on it.”

“Many good stallions,” Holiday added, “whose dalliances would never have told us what we needed to know about ourselves had we not taken them. Sometimes we broke their hearts, sometimes they broke ours.” She gazed over at Lofty and smiled. “But now, I’d say both our hearts are stronger than ever.”

Lofty’s grim face morphed into a returned smile, before she gave Holliday a soft kiss on the cheek. “You said it, Holly.”

Scootaloo gagged. “You guys are so gross when you’re lovey-dovey.”

Lofty gave Scootaloo a sharp, yet playful look. “I’ll remember you said that, missy. So on the day you introduce us to your special somepony, I’ll be watching you like a hawk to see if you do any ‘lovey-dovey’ stuff.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. Will you come to Family Appreciation Day?”

Lofty shrugged. “I don’t know, slugger. I’m just married into your family. Figured a blood relative like Holly would be more in the spirit of the event.”

“But you guys have been together for years! I haven’t known a time when you weren’t in my life, Auntie Lofty! Surely that counts for something.”

“Indeed it does, Scootaloo,” Holiday said, grasping Lofty’s hoof with her own. “She’s as much family to you as your own parents.”

Scootaloo beamed and faced Lofty triumphantly. “See? Your own wife thinks you’re family.”

“It’d be more concerning if she didn’t,” Lofty said. She saw Holiday stick her tongue out at her, but acted like she didn’t notice. “But I’m still not sure I want to go just to impress a cute colt.”

“He is not cute!” Scootaloo huffed. “He’s cool! And besides, you’ll be talking about an important part of Equestrian sports history!”

Lofty let go of her hug and wandered over to her unfinished quilt. “Maybe I’d rather talk about my quilts instead. I’ve been working on them for far longer than I ever did in baseball.”

“But baseball was a part of your life. You can’t act like it never happened, the same way you and Aunt Holiday can’t act like all those handsome stallions never happened.”

A small look of hurt crossed Lofty’s face, though so briefly only an eagle could have caught it. Before Scootaloo caught on, she recovered with a harsh laugh and raised eyebrows. “Would you look at that, Holly?” she chortled. “Tell a filly about your love life once and she never lets you live it down.”

“You know what I mean,” Scootaloo said, inching out of Holiday’s grip and toward the quilting table. “You had a hoof in an Equestrian sports team, but you’ve only told me about it, like, twice. Instead of tucking it away where nopony would ever see it again, you could tell a bunch of fillies and colts who might appreciate what you did.”

“Perhaps.” Lofty eyed Holiday. “Or maybe your Aunt Holiday would like to share her story.”

“But she didn’t play baseball.” Scootaloo’s voice seemed pleading, almost desperate.

“Doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a story worth telling.”

“I know, but…” Scootaloo sat on her haunches and sighed. “I guess there’s no use hiding it now.”

“Hiding what, Scootaloo?” Holiday said, placing a hoof on the filly’s back.

“Auntie Lofty’s right. I do want to impress Pop Fly. He’s the team captain of the Ponyville Little League team, and I thought maybe I’d have a better chance to get on the team if he knew one of my aunts was a former baseball player. But…there’s another reason.”

“Yes?”

She looked up at Lofty with shimmering eyes. “I don’t want to be made fun of in class.”

Holiday gasped. “Scootaloo, are those fillies you told us about teasing you again?”

Scootaloo nodded. “I guess some of it’s my fault. I was talking with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle during recess about who we were going to bring for Family Appreciation Day. They were just going to bring their sisters, so I was trying to decide between you two. I let slip that you used to play baseball, but it wasn’t just the three of us who heard that. Diamond Tiara-” Scootaloo seemed to shudder at the mention of the name, “-She was right behind me and started announcing to everypony on the playground that I had a big league ball player for an aunt and that I’d be bringing her tomorrow.” Scootaloo’s eyes grew wet. “And when she was done, she turned to me and said that she hoped for my sake that Lofty would come or else everypony would think I’m a liar and that’s even worse than being a blank flank and-“

Scootaloo stopped and brought her hooves to her eyes. Holiday hugged her tight to her chest. Lofty stood frozen, her only movement being the slow breaths pushing her frizzy turtleneck in and out.

“I’m sorry,” Scootaloo said through sniffles. “I know I should just make an excuse and bring Aunt Holiday tomorrow. Nopony will remember this after a week. I should be the bigger mare and let this slide. But… But you were a ball player, Auntie Lofty. And I know you can prove it and I was so excited when I came home because I knew I’d finally be able to stick it to Diamond Tiara for once and maybe if I could just get this one thing over her, she’d lay off and things would be better at school. Not just for me, but for Applebloom and Sweetie Belle.”

Scootaloo shook her head. “No, that’s not fair. It’s for me, nopony else.”

Lofty laid a hoof upon Scootaloo’s head. “Don’t say that, Scoots. I know you want the best for your friends. And wanting to be treated nicely isn’t selfish. It’s what everypony deserves.”

“Especially a wonderful little filly like you,” Aunt Holiday cooed.

Scootaloo nodded, but it seemed more like an automatic reflex than a cognizant response. Her mind was far away, tabulating how much strength she’d need to get through tomorrow when Diamond Tiara saw no ball-playing aunt and the whole school would whisper about whether there was a cutie mark for lying, then laugh upon noticing Scootaloo didn’t even do that right because her flank was as blank as ever.

So lost in her emotional turmoil was Scootaloo that she didn’t notice Lofty turn away to the hallway, her thin form disappearing into the master bedroom. Scootaloo felt only the pats on her back from Holiday’s warm embrace and the thin stream of tears still sliding down her own cheeks. Deeper and deeper into Holiday’s amber fur Scootaloo buried herself, as if she could somehow crawl somewhere where fillies weren’t so mean and-

Thunk!

Both Scootaloo and Holiday looked up to see Lofty standing before them. In front of her sat a large cardboard box. A thick layer of dust covered the surface of both the box and the items strewn within it.

Lofty stared down at the box and sighed. “You’re right, Scoots,” she said barely above a whisper. “You should just grin and bear everything Diamond Tiara gives you. School isn’t forever, and you’re strong enough I know you can take everything a bully like that gives you. And Holly and I should give words of encouragement, talk to Miss Cheerilee, all of that good parenting stuff. We should tell you the mature things to do and make sure you don’t go all Nightmare Moon on Diamond Tiara.”

She gave a loud sigh and shook her head. “But darn it, sometimes a filly’s so off the road of decency, you can’t help but give her a kick in the flank to get her back on course.” Lofty lifted her head, face held firm. “So I think it’s time we dusted off this little box of memories.”

Scootaloo’s eyes opened wide. “You mean-?”

Lofty nodded. “But I’m not going to do all the work. You cease that crying, missy, and go fetch the feather duster if you want my help.”

Scootaloo shot up and wrapped her arms around Lofty’s neck. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, Auntie Lofty!” Scootaloo blubbered through now joyful tears. “You’re the best!” With that, she ran as fast as she could toward the closet down the hall.

Lofty smiled at the display, but soon felt Holiday’s hoof upon her shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Lofty?” Holiday whispered. “I know you’d rather talk about anything else.”

“I’m fine, Holly,” Lofty whispered back. She looked down at the box. “Besides, Scoots was right. This is a part of me. Maybe not a fun part, but a part nevertheless.” She heard the rustle of Scootaloo rummaging through the closet. “And if I have to dip into that part to knock a little humility into a bully and make my niece’s life easier, well… there really wasn’t any other option, was there?”

Author's Note

Fun Fact: One of my aunts actually looks eerily similar to Lofty. Also, this is still in the "Diamond Tiara is a Meanie"-era of Gen 4, so you knew she was showing up in this story.

The Pitch

“-And that’s how I helped build Ponyville’s roads!”

Lofty clopped along with the rest of the schoolfillies, though with slightly more enthusiasm than the children could muster for the burly stallion in a hardhat standing at the front of the classroom. The fellow either didn’t seem to notice the children’s disinterest or took the reaction in stride. With a quick nod to Miss Cheerilee, he gathered up his tools and made his way toward the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Freeway,” Miss Cheerilee said, sitting at attention from her desk. Her dark cerise coat contrasted against the brighter classroom, yet her welcoming smile and calm face still radiated a warmth that made her seem right at home in the pastel-laden environment. She gazed down at a slip of paper before looking up at the class.

“For our final presentation of the day, we will be hearing from Scootaloo’s aunt, Mrs. Lofty,” Miss Cheerilee said in a light and pleasant voice. “Please give her a warm welcome, class!”

Lofty grasped the large box beside her and heaved forward to the front of the class. A large quilt covered the box, the design of a cozy stone home surrounded by mountains filling its patchwork. The same lackadaisical clopping from the students followed her up, though Lofty could just make out Scootaloo clopping a tad harder than the others.

Yet it wasn’t her niece who caught most of Lofty’s attention. As she parked herself up front, Lofty spied a little filly in the front row, furthest to her right. The girl’s mane was a pale violet, adorned with white streaks and a shining tiara propped upon the crown of her head. Her light magenta body, slumped and loose during Freeway’s talk, immediately sat up straight the second her eyes met Lofty’s. Nothing but friendliness filled her face, yet Lofty could see a gleam in her eyes not unlike that of a wolf spying a lonely sheep.

Hello, Diamond Tiara, Lofty thought, then gave the class a thin smile. Much like Diamond Tiara, the rest of the class seemed to gain an immediate interest the second Lofty placed herself before the chalkboard, still caked with dust from the day’s erased lessons.

“Hey, everypony!” Lofty said, giving a small wave. “Thanks for the warm greeting. My name’s Lofty, and I wanted to share a few things about myself.” She reached toward the box and uplifted the quilt.

The full scene of the home in the mountains spread itself for the class to see. A small brook eased its way past the stone house, a school of fish leaping up against the onrushing current. Faint puffs of smoke could be seen escaping the house’s chimney. A sextet of ponies, two full-grown and four smaller, stood beside the home, their faces inscrutable as their surroundings dwarfed them. What space wasn’t taken up by the snow-capped mountains was filled with evergreens, a different clash of emerald filling each tree and seeming to shimmer with each movement of the quilt.

“Ever since I was a little filly, I always wanted to quilt,” Lofty said, beaming. “I’d grown up seeing my grandmother and a lot of cousins do it, so you could say I got a head start for earning my cutie mark.” She pointed down toward her flank, where an image of a spool of thread and needle adorned her pale yellow fur. “And, despite what you may think, quilts actually are a big part of our Equestrian heritage. I was born and raised in Seaddle, and a lot of the early Equestrian settlers there weaved pictures into their quilts that told stories. Some of them were of famous ponies of old, like Flash Magnus and Meadowbrook.”

She looked down at the outstretched quilt and smiled. “And some of them were smaller stories about the families that made them, like this one. This,” she said, pointing to the stone house, “was the home my great-grandfather built when his family first moved there. When he finally built it, my great-grandmother made this quilt to commemorate their home.” She pointed toward the group of ponies standing outside the house. “That’s them, along with my grandfather and all of his siblings.”

Lofty looked out to the class and saw what she expected. Most of the children stared at her, only half-interested in the talk and eyes beginning to glaze over. One colt didn’t even bother looking forward and was blowing his pencil across his desk. The only exceptions were four fillies: Scootaloo, her friends Applebloom and Sweetie Belle, and Diamond Tiara. While the latter three seemed to hold genuine interest, Diamond Tiara’s seemed cloying and manufactured. The curves of her mouth stretched into a slight sneer, imperceptible to anypony who wasn’t looking for it, and her eyes continued their wolfish gleam.

She shot a brief look to Scootaloo further down her row, that same sneer plastered across her face. A look that said, “Oh, this is your ball-player aunt? Then where’s the trophies and pictures? Maybe she wasn’t as big a deal as you said, hmm? Maybe she didn’t even play baseball at all, you fibber!”

Yet so enveloped in her silent gloating, Diamond Tiara did not notice the contemptuous gleam in Lofty’s own eyes. They met Scootaloo’s, still facing her aunt despite Diamond Tiara’s mocking eyes boring into the side of her head. Scootaloo gave no outward sign that the time was right; no wink, no nod of the head, or any motion with her hooves. It was only the promises from last night and the unspoken bond between niece and aunt that told Lofty the time was right.

Lofty gave a soft sigh, her legs tensing. “Of course, all of this quilting stuff goes back far in my family,” she said, starting to fold the quilt back up. “And it certainly has played a big part in my life as well. But…” She gave a coy smile to the class. “I know quilting isn’t always the most exciting thing to talk about for some fillies. So I figured I’d tell you all about something else I used to do.” With that, she whipped the quilt off the top of the box.

A series of gasps went through the classroom. Inside the box sat an unmistakable gleam of gold, brilliant in the bright classroom and the sharp sunshine cascading through the windows. Amplifying the effect were the numerous glass photo frames reflecting the golden light even further from its dark abode. Lofty reached in and pulled the main cause of the shine: a small trophy depicting a pony catching a ball in midair, only one of her back legs touching the ground and her left front hoof stretching high to grasp the falling ball.

“This,” Lofty said, “is the Goldie Glove I won in my second year with the Seaddle Sluggers.”

“Ooh, ooh!” a bright yellow colt called from the back, raising his hoof excitedly. His grey-striped baseball cap bobbed atop his dark black mane. “Does that mean you were with the team when they were in the Marejor Leagues?”

“Pop Fly, please keep your questions until the end,” Cheerilee rebuked softly. “We need to hear all of Mrs. Lofty’s story first.”

Lofty smiled. “It’s okay, Miss Cheerilee. Yes, Pop Fly, I was in the team back when it was in the Marejor Leagues. That was a bit before your fillies’ time, so I’ll explain. Unlike today, where mares and stallions play together in the Equestrian Baseball League, we used to separate mares and stallions in baseball. Not because we didn’t like each other, but just because a lot of ponies were worried that stallions and mares weren’t on equal ground. Some ponies thought stallions would hit more homeruns and mares would steal more bases and things like that. So we had two baseball leagues: the Stallion Baseball League for the boys, and the Marejor League Baseball for the girls.”

She reached into the box and brought out a picture. Three lines of mares filled the picture, each bedecked in a uniform of white with dark green stripes. “I played a lot of baseball when I was in school and was decent enough, but I didn’t think it'd be much more than fun. Then, one day, a-” There was a brief wistful look upon Lofty’s face for a split-second, then her smile returned. “A scout saw me playing and told me to try out for the Seaddle Sluggers as a walk-on.”

She chuckled. “I didn’t think much would come of it. After all, scouts tell ballplayers all the time that they’ll be big stars, and how many of them actually get to the big leagues? Anyway, I decided to go just for fun and be able to say I did it.” She shook her head. “Wouldn’t you know it though, I got contacted the week after and told to report to the team house. I talked with my family and we figured, even if it wasn’t my first choice of work, the opportunity to play on a professional team doesn’t come that often, so why not take advantage of it?”

“How long did you play?” Pop Fly called out.

“Questions at the end, Pop Fly!” Cheerilee said, a little more forcefully this time.

Lofty laughed. “Five years, son. All of them for the Seaddle Sluggers and all of them as a right-fielder.” She gave the trophy a little shake. “This little girl was the result of a couple dozen sliding catches I did throughout the season.”

“Did you ever win another one?” a red-maned filly in thick-framed glasses squeaked out.

Cheerilee placed her face in her hooves. “Teachers don’t give instructions anymore, just suggestions,” she muttered under her breath.

Lofty shook her head. “No, sadly. Queenie Catch joined the League the next year for the Manehattan Maidens and pretty much kept me out of the running after that.” She reached into the box. “But even Berry Bons couldn’t stop me from getting these each year.”

Lofty pulled out a quintet of statues that filled both her front legs. Each had the same figure: a silver mare leaning on her back hoof as she held a baseball bat beside her shoulder. The other back hoof hung in the air, stepping forward for an oncoming ball.

“These are the Slugger Silvers I got each year I played,” she said.

“That’s for the League’s best hitters!” Pop Fly called out.

“That’s right, Pop Fly,” Lofty said, trying not to chuckle as Cheerilee simply laid her head on her desk and into her hooves. “I always got at least 50 home runs a season.” She pointed to one of the trophies, which had a slightly deeper silver than the others. “That trophy’s from the year I managed to get 67, the highest in the League for that year.”

Exclamations of excitement filled the room. Lofty looked out, smiling as the fillies and colts chittered excitedly amongst each other. She then found her eyes drifting towards Diamond Tiara for the first time since she started talking about baseball. No longer did a smug grin fill the filly’s face, but instead a gape of amazement. The second she noticed Lofty looking at her, however, her face seemed to stiffen and force itself into an artificial smile. Yet the edges of her mouth twitched, fighting to prevent itself from curving her lips downward and turning the expression into an outright grimace.

Lofty knew that look; she’d seen it on a dozen pitchers who suddenly realized that she wasn’t any ordinary batter. This was a batter the pitcher had to hate, to truly despise to work up the energy to get them out. Diamond Tiara couldn’t just take the loss and go back to the dugout, thinking over her mistakes and planning for the next game. No, she needed a win now, and if she couldn’t get that at Scootaloo’s expense, she’d get it at Lofty’s.

Diamond Tiara daintily raised her hoof. “Oh, Mrs. Lofty,” she said in a voice that tried to sound welcoming, but dripped with too much honey to be anything but fake. “Why did you only play five seasons? I thought most ball-players played for fifteen years or so. You weren’t injured, I hope?”

Lofty withheld a chuckle. Clever little filly, she thought. Despicable, terrible, and definitely a future business tycoon, but clever all the same.

“Oh no, Diamond Tiara,” Lofty said with the same counterfeit honey in her tone. “I simply got bored with baseball after a while. Things get awful boring when you become the best.”

Diamond Tiara’s visage darkened. A master of subtle insults, she could tell a rebuke from a mile away.

“Besides,” Lofty continued, “I found that all that travel and physicality took too much out of me to actually do my quilting. So, I made a choice to pursue quilting rather than stay in the League. It was fun for a while, but…” Her eyes seemed to gaze past the students and out the windows to the amber hills surrounding Ponyville. “Sometimes being happy is better than being the greatest.”

The rest of the kids began to pipe up, launching a hundred questions Lofty’s way. She took it in stride, answering everything from her relationship with Filly Hayes and who the toughest pitcher she ever faced was. Her eyes still returned to Diamond Tiara every few moments, however, and she found the filly pressing herself deeper and deeper into her desk. She did nothing to hide her frustration and anger toward the mare before her, but she said nothing throughout the rest of the class time.

I hope you don’t forget this lesson, Diamond Tiara, Lofty thought. Nopony likes to strike out twice.

Author's Note

One of the most important things I wanted to emphasize in this story was that Lofty had a life before she met Holiday. That's the way it is with all couples, and I wanted to go against the grain that I thought would pop up with this contest (where Lofty and Holiday were just together always).

The Home Run

“You were amazing!” Scootaloo screamed, hopping down the road. The path curved alongside the town of Ponyville, just skirting the city edges before ending near Lofty and Holiday’s home. The schoolhouse was already disappearing through the trees that followed the road.

Lofty grinned at the bounding filly. The box and quilt balanced atop Lofty’s back, swaying with each step. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“But you were! Everypony was coming up to me afterwards telling me how awesome you were and if you could tell some more stories and-!” A sharp squeal escaped Scootaloo’s mouth. “Oh, it was great! Everypony was so excited!”

“Everypony except a certain little filly with an affinity for tiaras?” Lofty said, eyebrow arched.

Scootaloo scoffed. “Diamond Tiara was hiding with her tail between her legs. She didn’t even talk to Silver Spoon before she left.”

“Really?” Lofty said incredulously. “I would’ve thought she’d be excited to see her friend Scootaloo was telling the truth about her Auntie Lofty and provide such a fun experience for the class.”

“Blech!" Scootaloo gagged. "‘Fun’, ‘friend’, and ‘Diamond Tiara’ don’t even belong in the same sentence together.”

Lofty shook her head. “Hopefully that will change one day. But for now, I think we succeeded in humbling her a little.”

“Well, I won’t have to worry about her for a while.” Scootaloo hopped over a rock that jutted from the dirt road. “Applebloom’s family is going to be doing a harvest of Zap Apples over the next few days. Applebloom told me they just started sprouting. Not sure Applejack’s pride will let us help, but I want to be on call in case they need it.”

Lofty smiled. “Awful considerate, Scoots! I’m sure they’ll love any extra help.”

“Yeah.” Scootaloo nodded, then seemed to stare off in the distance. Her mouth moved, no words coming out, before she finally steeled herself.

“Auntie Lofty,” she said, trotting beside her aunt. “Why didn’t you want to talk about baseball? I mean, last night, when I first asked you?”

For a moment, silence pervaded the duo and the road they walked along. The sun, already starting to set, began to cast faint shadows across the land. Lofty was caught in the shifting gloom, and her firm face looked even more impenetrable to Scootaloo.

“Remember last night when Aunt Holiday and I were talking about how there were a few stallions we knew before we knew each other?” Lofty finally said.

Scootaloo nodded.

“Well, it was one of those handsome stallions that led me to go into baseball, even though everything inside me told me I should be a quilter. He was that scout that saw me playing and told me to go to the Sluggers tryout.” She sighed. “And after that, we saw each other a whole lot since we were both with the team. And…I don’t know, I felt like I owed him something for getting me into baseball. He never said or acted like I did, but I felt that way all the same and…”

Her mouth moved like a baby trying to say its first words. “Well, we were involved for a while. And it wasn’t bad, slugger. Really. It was actually nice to have someone involved in the same business you were and knew everything that came with it. He wouldn’t get mad if I stayed up late training or slept in after a grueling away series. And I wouldn’t get mad when he had to zip off to Vanhoover for a player or spend late nights at the office talking with the coaches. We understood each other.” She looked to the sky. “At least for a while.”

“Did he…y’know, leave?” Scootaloo whispered.

“We both left, Scoots. The exact same day, he and I woke up, looked at each other, and realized at the same time that we weren’t happy. We couldn’t say why at the time; we just weren’t. So we both got up, said goodbye, and left the same day. Haven’t seen each other a day since.”

“You both just… left?” Scootaloo asked.

“Yep.” Lofty stared over towards Ponyville, where the faint bustling of late afternoon shoppers filled the air. “I’d like to pretend that it was just me who was hurt. That he broke my heart. But that wasn’t true. We broke each other’s hearts, and that’s the worst thing to ever experience, Scoots. If it was just my fault, I could work to better myself. If it was just his fault, I could play the victim and move on knowing I did nothing wrong. But when it’s nopony’s fault, when it’s just two ponies who changed over five years and wake up one day to find they don’t love each other the way they should, everypony gets hurt.”

Silence pervaded the duo for a few moments, only their soft steps in the dirt and the late afternoon chitters of the blue jays in the trees making any noise. Scootaloo still stared up at her aunt, waiting for the story to continue.

Lofty gave a mirthless chuckle. “I guess that’s why I didn’t want to talk about baseball at first. I spent the last couple of years thinking baseball was the cause of all those problems, that it had forced me to change myself and dragged me into an unhappy relationship.” She shook her head. “But today, when I saw all your classmates light up when I talked about it, I remembered why I played it so much when I was a filly. Why I kept playing it for five years when I could’ve left anytime. It wasn’t for him, it was for me. And one day, both he and the game just weren’t for me anymore.”

Her shoulders bobbed with a shrug. “That’s just how things are sometimes.”

Scootaloo gave a subtle nod. “But you were able to find what was for you later. With quilting and Aunt Holiday, right?”

Lofty smiled. “That’s right, Scoots. Quilting was always there for me, but Holly took some discovery on my part. That was fine though. I don’t think we would’ve loved each other the same way had we met earlier in life. I needed to discover myself a little more before I knew she was the one.”

“I’m glad she was,” Scootaloo said, leaning her head on Lofty’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on having such a great aunt.”

Lofty leaned down and kissed the top of Scootaloo’s head. “And I wouldn’t want to miss out on having such a great niece.”

Scootaloo beamed and hopped in front of Lofty. “So now that you’re willing to talk about baseball again, are you willing to coach?” she said, walking backwards as she looked eagerly toward her aunt.

Lofty guffawed. “Your classmates already begging for me to make them All-Stars?”

“Nope,” Scootaloo said, a sly grin upon her face. “But I was hoping you could teach me a few pointers.”

“I knew it,” Lofty sighed. “Already taking advantage of your poor old auntie. And after I’d poured my soul out no less!”

“C’mon, Auntie Lofty! Pop Fly is still looking for a few fielders for a Ponyville Little League team, and maybe you can help me become good enough to get in.”

Lofty gave an incredulous stare. “Did you not just hear my story? Chasing baseball for cute colts is a recipe for disaster.”

“He is not cute!” Scootaloo hollered. “He’s cool, and I’m not chasing him! I’m chasing baseball!”

Lofty shook her head, giving a deep sigh. “Oh, I suppose I could give you a few pointers. Celestia help me if you fall down the same rabbit hole I did.”

“Yay!” Scootaloo squeaked. “Maybe I’ll get my cutie mark in fielding! Ooh, or maybe hitting! I could even get the next Slugger Silver too!”

Lofty ruffled Scootaloo’s hair as their cottage came into sight, the golden light leaking from the windows and the distinct scent of Holiday’s gourmet bluegrass sandwiches beckoning them forward.

“Maybe you could, slugger,” Lofty said. She gave a loving pat to the box on her back, its heavy contents no longer feeling like a burden. “Maybe you could.”

Author's Note

Despite what we like to think, our parents didn't just meet each other from the get-go. There were a lot of messy bumps between here and there. Hopefully we'll be stronger after these bumps, but we can only hope.