"You'll have to sit in a cast for a few days, but..."

I block out the rest. A cast? My friends would never let me live that down. With the amount of wingslaps they might give me, I might even end up with another cast.

But it's okay. It's always okay.

"Okay."

Seeing my friends the next day really does make it okay. Because even though they were the reason I flew through that insanely stupid hoop in the first place—even though they were the reason I broke my wing in the first place—it was an accident, and I totally get that.

What kind of a friend would I be if I didn't?

Dumbbell frowns at me. Well, the cast that's on my wing, but it's practically a part of me already. "Dude, what happened to you?"

"Probably got blown away by my overwhelming aura," Score responds. The two laugh and I shake my head, although I let myself laugh a bit, too.

"You know, it was actually your fault."

Dumbbell frowns. "We don't hit ponies."

"The dare..."

Score rolls his eyes. "It was a game. It's on you if you're too weak to handle it."

The words have stuck with me for a few days now. Weak? Well, yeah. I am. But now that the cast is off, I can actually fly. The doctor told me not to push myself, but who is she kidding? Colts will be colts, and I'm a proud, independent colt.

So I fly.

I'll tell you this—and not out of pride, but because it's simple fact that everyone knows: I've literally never been a good flier. So, combine a lack of flying skills with a wing that hasn't been active for three days and what do you get? A crash. My crash was... well, what do I say? A crash is a crash. I crash all the time and get back up all the time.

On my own, usually, but with my body exhausted from pushing myself, I don't want to get up. I let myself lay face down on the cloud for a bit.

Eventually, I look up to find a pair of magenta eyes staring at me. There's a deep meaning to them that I don't understand, even though the filly who bears them is probably a year or two younger than me.

I've seen her around before. I think she moved up to our class from the junior section. The teacher told us her name, and to be welcoming, and all that stuff. Of course, I didn't think I was actually ever going to talk to her—why would I? She's younger, and she's a mare. Not talking to her was probably the best way I could welcome her.

But, then again, it wasn't like anybody wanted to talk to this poor kid.

She was lonely, and that was sad, and maybe that was my fault, too.

I lower my gaze and find that her hoof is outstretched—a welcome, maybe? Then I realize that I'm down. Like, down, down. So I put my hoof on hers and let her lift me up. She's actually not as weak as I expected.

"Thanks," I say, brushing the moisture off my coat.

"Of course." She grins. It's lopsided, but it fits her so well. Or, wait. Is she smirking at me? Shoot.

The silence is so awkward—my bad for not being good at talking to other ponies—so I decide to break it. "I'm Hoops." I extend my hoof just to be nice.

She nods, but looks down at my hoof. Never once does she make eye contact with me. What, does she hate me already? "Okay. Hoops. Nice to meet you."

Beat.

"This is the part where you tell me your name," I say softly.

She laughs. I have to admit, it's actually kind of cute—

No. My friends hate her, so I have to, too. I can't possibly come anywhere close to liking her.

"Well, I'm not starring in your movie, am I?"

I grin. My admiration for her... wow. She's bold. I need that kind of confidence. I need somepony like her. No, I need to be her. "Point taken. But if it's your movie, shouldn't I at least get to know your name?"

She rolls her eyes and—oh my gosh—leans in closer to me. "I never said it was my movie, either."

Then she turns with a flick of her mane and flies away, leaving me hanging.

After about three minutes, I realize my hoof is still extended.

The next day, we've got this air around us. It's exciting. Heck, it almost feels like we're secretly dating. Well, more like secretly meeting. We're not close to dating—we're not even friends yet. Shoot, I don't even know her name yet.

Still, I can't stop looking around for her. And when my gaze lands on her, I can't look away. She spots me looking and grins back at me. The same lopsided smile.

I don't think it's a smirk anymore.

I notice her more throughout the day. She pretty much never smiles. Another thing about her? I was right. She is lonely. So, very lonely. She doesn't talk in class, or eat lunch with anyone, or even take the shorter paths on account of the crowded areas. The thing is, it doesn't seem like she minds. I can't tell if she's too shy to talk to anyone or if she's so confident that she doesn't need to talk to anyone.

Either way, I find myself admiring her.

Dumbbell and Score? Well, I wouldn't call their words admiration, really.

It's later, when we're doing flying drills, that I really figure out where they stand.

I still suck at flying, obviously. Once I inevitably crash on the cloud, my eyes immediately find her. She's not the strongest flier, but she's not bad compared to me. A bit shaky, sure, but she looks strong. She looks like she'd keep going even if the world tried to bring her down. I can't help but smile.

While I'm in awe, I hear Dumbbell mutter, "Sweat."

I turn to Score, but he just nods in agreement. "She needs to stick with her own kind."

I frown. "I mean, she's better than me."

Their attention completely shifts to me after that. They start laughing. Dumbbell punches my shoulder. "Right? If she's Crash, you're a complete Bang."

I don't know if it's a compliment or not.

Score nods in agreement, smirking. "Rainbow Crash and... huh. We need a better one for him."

"Rainbow Crash?" Is the only thing I can manage to say.

"That's, like, her name? I dunno, I'm pretty sure that's what she said when we first saw her ugly face." The two share a hoofbump, while I'm frowning and looking at her again.

Rainbow... Crash?

And then, well, she crashes.

It grabs the attention of half the class, but it doesn't matter to her. Not until Dumbbell shouts, "Yo, Rainbow Crash!"

"Shoot, is that cloud good? With the way you're flying, I'm shocked it isn't destroyed by now."

She ignores them, but I can see the flame in her eyes. She looks over in our direction, her face flushed and chest huffing. I'm not sure if she's just tired from the exercises or just really angry at us.

Maybe both.

Either way, it scares me.

It's even scarier when she decides to actually come over here. "The heck is wrong with you?" she asks. Like I said, bold. Admirable. Awesome.

Dumbbell shakes his head along with Score, pointing his wing back and forth in her direction. The universal code for "get a load of this guy."

And it makes her so mad she steps closer. Too close. "If I ever get my hooves on you..."

"Guys..."

All three of them turn to me, shocked. Confused. It's like they notice me for the first time.

Crash—it hits me then that I still don't know her real name—takes the first move. "Hoops, let's talk."

Not a question, not an offer. A command.

"Ooh," Dumbbell teases quietly, just loud enough for only the four of us to hear, "Looks like we're about to witness a love confession!"

"It's not—"

She doesn't wait for me to make an excuse, or make one herself. She takes my hoof—yes, we came in contact—and drags me aside. When she finally lets go, I find myself asking, "What's your problem?" Bold. Nice.

She's still better, though, and hits me back with, "My problem? You're the one who's hanging out with those jerks!" It's scary, the intensity in her.

I frown. "Just because I hang out with them doesn't mean I'm like them."

"If you really didn't like what they were doing, you would've cut them off."

"You don't understand. They're, like, the only friends I have!"

"You don't even like your own friends?"

"Well... I'd be friendless without them."

"I'm already friendless. I'm still alive, aren't I?"

"I could be your friend!" I shout immediately, but then regret it.

The silence that follows is unbearable. For a hot minute, we're just staring at eachother. I never understood what ponies meant when they said 'looks could kill,' but I think I've come pretty close to understanding it now.

"What's your name?" I ask suddenly.

She seems more shocked than mad, so I'm going to count that as a win. "My... what?"

"I, um, still don't know your name," I say, feeling my cheeks flush.

She just laughs at me, and I guess that's fair. "Why would you care?"

"Because..." I say, struggling to find an answer. "Because I care."

"It's not like you care when I'm being mocked by those jerks you call friends."

"Well, if you want me to go along with them and call you Crash, then I guess it shouldn't be a problem."

And she actually looks so close to tears I regret it. It's a terrible feeling, breaking somepony so strong. I want to give her a hug, but I know she'll hate me for that. "Dash," she finally says, looking past me. "Rainbow Dash."

I nod, accepting it. "Rainbow Dash. Okay. Then, Rainbow Dash, can we at least try to be friends?"

She moves past me, like they do in those movies where the couple goes through a fight just a few days before they see each other and make up again. Something about this, however, gives me the feeling that we're never going to make up.

"Sorry, Hoops. But I don't make friends with low lifes like you."

Then she flies—she's actually pretty good—away, shouldering Dumbbell and Score on her way out. I don't know how long they were there for, and that scares me.

They look at me like the monsters they are.

Author's Note

im on a roll with these speedwrites guys 2025 is gonna be my year