Lightning Dust is my younger sister. We’ve had our rough patches. I’ve made our rough patches. We may be friends. Lightning often says things she doesn’t mean, though, and I’m afraid she didn’t mean it when she said she forgave me.
I do have good memories with her. We have had our good points. When we were little, for Hearth’s Warming, we had traditions. We did them “just us”, because it really is just us that are around. I’d been trying to take care of her for years, because as her older sister, it’s my duty to be her guardian.
Being a sister/mom is hard. I’ve always tried to help her. I’ve thought that it would be less hurtful to hear hard things from your “mom” than random strangers. Maybe I was wrong.
I just hope she can forgive me for the little things if she remembers the good things. I think this as I walk on the streets of Manehattan. I came here to look for her, and to apologize, but my voice and my words always come out wrong. She knows I try. I really do try. But my mouth always seems to say the exact opposite of what I mean. My awful big mouth.
I walk with her, Lightning, and talk with her. “Are you sure you forgive me?” I ask.
Lightning Dust looks at me, and she seems to read my mind. I want the truth. “No,” Lightning replies. “I’m not sure. You’ve done so much to hurt me, and never apologized in the past, or not that I remember, and I’m still really mad at you.”
I expected a “no”, but I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect for Lightning to tell the whole truth.
“I guess,” she continues, “that I need proof of your remorse.”
“Proof?!” I cry. I lower my voice. “Sorry. Did I snap?”
“Sort of, but not really,” Lightning says bluntly.
“How do I prove that I’m sorry?” I ask, my voice not sounding right. It sounds shaky and worried. It never sounds that way. I always try to be tough. For my sake and Lightning’s.
“You need,” Lightning says, “to plan a sister-bonding thing that will show me that you actually love me and don’t think I’m an utter mess.”
“Wait, what?”
“You heard me right.” Lightning has a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “You’ve got to show me that you care. That’s what I meant by proof.”
“Okay, but what if I’m dreadfully horrid at planning?” I ask nervously.
“You’re not. My ninth birthday party was wicked.”
“Isn’t that bad?”
“I mean, it was awesome.”
“Okay,” I reply, barely breathing. I try to put on a brave face like usual. I need to be strong if I’m going to get through this.
“You don’t need to put on a brave face,” Lightning Dust says with a smirk, nearly reading my mind. I think she likes bossing me around.
“Fine,” I say. I trot off to plan my proof.
I can’t think of anything that’s meaningful enough. I think of scrapbooking to remember our good times, but Lightning has never made a scrapbook, so it wouldn’t feel personalized. I think of a gift, but that seems desperate. I think of simply cash, but that’s even worse.
I sigh and stare into a puddle, seeing myself in the reflection. Then I remember her comment about her ninth birthday party and grin. Maybe I wasn’t the worst sister/mom ever. Maybe if I could recreate the good memories…it’s a start, and a pretty good one. I make my way to a party store, even though it’s two blocks away. If I’m going to do good, I’ve got to do fantastic. I enter the store, my head high in excitement.
“Hello?” says the bored salespony. “Are you here to buy anything, or are you just here to stare?”
“I’m buying a lot,” I say, which seems to make the salespony’s day. “Do you know how to find supplies for a blue-and-white-and-gray-colored party?”
“Yeah! The sky-themed party supplies are in aisle seven. Thank you!”The salespony smiles ear-to-ear. Her eyes are no longer glazed over like before.
I get balloons. Or try to, because they're sold out, like seemingly everything else in aisle seven. This party won’t work if I don’t have the right supplies. I find one stray party favor that’s blue, but it’s not even enough for a two-pony party. I let tears prick the corners of my eyes. I end up going to aisle three where there are two yellow balloons, which is better than nothing. It’s still not enough. How can I bond with my sister if there’s no party to bond over?
I take a deep breath and gallop to the counter to buy the balloons. The salespony grimaces. “You said you’d be buying a lot. This is two balloons. Either you consider ten bits a lot, or you can’t do math.”
“I bought what you had,” I say, using my most determined voice.
She backs off and accepts the ten bits.
I take the balloons and realize that there is no way that two yellow balloons will make my sister love me again. I sigh dejectedly and exit the party store. Lightning is nowhere to be found, which is good. I have some time alone. It’s not really alone, because there are ponies surrounding me; this is Manehattan, not Dodge Junction.
I look around and cross the street, finding myself in front of a bakery. I enter and purchase two yellow-frosted cupcakes.
I try to carry the balloons in my mouth and the cupcakes on my back, which proves to be an impossible task. One of the balloons slips away, into the air. Not much is left of my little party.
I run as fast as I can without dropping the cupcakes. I luckily don’t drop them.
Or at least, I don’t drop them until I’m in a taxi. They fall onto the road. I’m losing my party, and with it my pride. I clutch the string of the one yellow balloon in my teeth, hoping desperately that I won’t let go. I thank the taxi driver and run to find Lightning before I lose what’s left, which is admittedly not much at all.
I eventually find her by the door of a shop called “Rarity For You.”
I pass her the balloon, which she glances at in a puzzled manner. “It’s not much,” I say breathlessly. “But I’d gotten cupcakes and another balloon, and I tried to bring them to you: I promise! I just…failed. I failed to prove that we were friends again. I failed to prove my remorse. I failed, and did more than failed. I tanked. So I’m sorry for the fact that all I have is one measly balloon. And not even in blue like I bet you would’ve wanted.”
“Blue is my favorite color, sure, but yellow…yellow means friendship. And even if it wasn’t intentional, it happened, didn’t it? And walking up to me with all you had left? That takes guts. This ‘measly balloon’ means a lot. Thanks.”
My mouth drops open, which I know is rude, but I can’t help it. “A yellow balloon, though. A cheap, single yellow balloon.”
“It’s cheap? Oh, now I’ll have to reconsider,” Lightning jokes.
I don’t realize the teasing tone in her voice and I look at the ground. “If it helps, the cupcakes weren’t as–”
“Oh, Nimbus, I was kidding! You always take everything so seriously. Sometimes you drive me crazy!” Lightning exclaims.
I sigh. “We aren’t completely okay, are we?”
“Things take time,” Lightning replies. “Maybe I’d be willing to give you some.”
“Some time? Or some things?” I say, trying to loosen up for once.
“Time, Nimbus,” answers my sister. “Time.”
I look at her quizzically. “Are you sure you want to give me time to resolve our friendship? Our…sisterhood?”
“Sure, sis,” Lightning says, ever casual. Or sentimental. Occasionally she’s sentimental. But there’s not much of an in between. “Why not?”
“‘Second place, Dusty? You’re better than that,’”I say, mocking myself. If our bond is going to be tighter, I need to loosen up.
“Definitely not your best moment. But hey, at least it isn’t your best!”
“Yeah, definitely,” I reply.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” says Lightning Dust. “You aren’t the only pony with which I needed to make amends. Catch you later!”
Catch you later. She hasn’t given up on me yet.
“Look out, Equestria! You have a whole new Nimbus Cloud on your hooves!” I whisper once Lightning is out of sight. “A whole new better Nimbus Cloud.”
Author's Note
Please, when commenting, be respectful and supportive! There is a significant difference between constructive criticism and insulting criticism. I would very much appreciate if you only criticize constructively.
