A/N: Didn't proof this! ><
“Tiff, you’ve gotta stop panicking. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“I’m not panicking!” Tiffany Sparkle exclaimed as she tore through the bookshelves lining her wall like a madwoman, tossing novels and dictionaries over her shoulder as she dashed from one end of the shelf to the other. Behind her, a shorter boy sat on the edge of her four-poster bed, dangling stubby legs off the side of her mattress. “I said, I’m not panicking! I’m just having a vertical seizure, that’s all, and I can’t find my copy of Ways of the World!”
“Ways of the World? Sheesh, Tiff, you should’ve told me!” Scoffed Spike, hopping off the bed and dusting off his shorts. He cleared his throat and picked up a thick textbook from the floor, tapping one sharp fingernail against the white title emblazoned across its cover. “I didn’t know you were looking for this. It was on the floor all along!”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Tiffany exclaimed, snatching the volume from her assistant’s hands and leafing through the book to make sure nothing was damaged. “Sorry, Spike, I’ll let you know next time – I guess I was just so stressed out, I forgot you were there to help me.”
“Don’t worry about it, Tiff,” Spike said with a toothy grin. He ran one hand through his thick brown mullet, nodding at the alarm clock perched precariously on Tiffany’s bedside table. “You should probably get going soon, since school starts in, like, thirty minutes.”
At this, Tiffany’s eyes widened to the size of saucers and she stuffed the history book into a bloated messenger bag, grabbing a brush and a dark purple scarf on her way out the door. “See you later, Spike! Don’t forget to send that email to the President!”
“Yeah, I won’t, and have a … great day,” Spike said, trailing off when he realized his last few words would never reach Tiffany: she’d already slammed the door behind her and was outside in a record-breaking ten seconds.
Bolting down the porch stairs two at a time, Tiffany nearly tripped twice, but she was so focused on reaching the bus stop at the end of the street that she hardly noticed. Scarf snapping in the wind, one hand carelessly tugging the brush through her black hair streaked with pink highlights, and messenger bag bulging with school supplies and books, Tiffany looked like a haggard freshman, or a particularly well-dressed hobo galloping towards the bus stop, where a yellow school bus was pulling away.
“Stop!” She yelled desperately as the bus began gathering speed. No! She wasn’t going to make it! Just when she thought all hope was lost, the bus screeched to a halt and its doors flung wide open, admitting a breathless Tiffany who staggered aboard.
“Th … Thank you,” she gasped, adjusting the bag strap digging into her shoulder and stowing her brush away. She sniffed, wishing that she’d grabbed a jacket in addition to a scarf.
“Don’t thank me, thank the girl in the back who made me stop the bus to let your sorry ass on,” the bus driver snorted. Managing a weak smile and an earnest apology, Tiffany stumbled down the aisle, trying to ignore the giggling and not-so-hushed murmurs of the sitting students. As far as Tiffany could see, the bus was just about full. Plus, nobody looked like they were willing to offer her a seat, and a couple of students even threw their bags on the empty seats by their sides when they saw her approaching.
“Wow, talk about a lame entrance,” someone said loudly, causing a group of students to erupt into laughter. Tiffany couldn’t help herself from looking over her shoulder to see who’d said that. It was an athletic girl with a shock of rainbow-colored hair near the front of the bus, surrounded by a flock of cronies and admirers.
Just ignore those stupid jocks, Tiffany thought bitterly, but tears pricked at the edges of her vision. She bit her lip and blinked furiously, trying to pretend that she hadn’t noticed the speaker even though she’d turned to look at her. She was not going to cry on her first day! Not when she wasn’t even at the school yet! And hadn’t the driver said that someone had asked him to stop the bus? There had to be nice kids on the vehicle, right?
Just as Tiffany was about to give up and stand in the aisle for the rest of the ride, a girl at the back of the bus caught her attention by frantically waving an arm and beckoning for her to come over. Mustering her bravest face, Tiffany gripped her bag strap and lurched to the back, bouncing in rhythm to the chaotic swaying of the school bus.
“Heya! You’re new here, aren’t ya?!” The girl exclaimed when Tiffany was close enough, her grin wide enough to split her face in half. The people sitting around the girl chuckled and popped candy into their mouths, apparently used to their companion’s exuberant behavior.
“Uh, yes,” Tiffany said tentatively, still swaying awkwardly in the aisle. She noticed that there was an open seat next to the excited girl. “Erm, can I sit there?”
“Yeah! Sure! Go ahead!” Nodding so fast Tiffany feared that her head would snap off, the girl patted the empty seat with both hands. With a grateful smile, Tiffany sat down, all too glad to put her messenger bag on the floor, where it wouldn’t strain her shoulders. Now, she had a proper chance to look at the girl: she had a head of thick, frizzy pink hair tied in a ponytail, and shining blue eyes looked back at Tiffany.
“Hey, so, just wanted to let you know, I was the one who shouted at the bus driver to get him to stop, because I saw you running to catch the school-bus and it would totally, definitely, one hundred percent suck if you missed the bus on your first day! I mean, that would just be sad, and I don’t like sad things, I like to be happy and make people happy and you’re the first person I made happy today and it’s great to know I made someone happy and my name is Piper Pie, what’s your name?” The girl rambled nonstop, catching Tiffany off-guard with the question at the end. Upon seeing Tiffany’s startled look, the girl’s – Piper’s – friends laughed.
“You’ll get used to her,” said a chubby boy.
“Um …” Twilight struggled to absorb all of Piper’s information. “My name’s Tiffany Sparkle. It’s nice to meet you, Piper, and I’m grateful that you stopped the bus for me. Thank you.”
“No problemo, Tiffers!” Piper proclaimed, puffing out her chest. “And don’t mind those other kids up front, they’re big meanies.”
Even though Piper was a bit too fast for her, Tiffany found herself liking the pink-haired girl more and more. She was certainly different from the students in the front of the bus, and Tiffany would readily pick Piper’s company over theirs any day.
“Don’t worry, Piper, I won’t let them get to me,” Tiffany assured her.
“Pinkie!”
“What?”
“Call me Pinkie!” Piper exclaimed. “Only my parents and some stuffy teachers call me Piper, but everyone knows me as Pinkie, so you should call Pinkie, too! I mean, I like it so much better than Piper, and it suits me more, don’t you think? I like pink! Pink is awesome! And hey, hey, speaking of awesome, if you ever want to have some fun, you have to come to the ‘hurrah school’s begun’ party I’m throwing at my house this Saturday, from four to six PM, here’s the invite,” – the girl (Pinkie?) produced a pink envelope from her backpack and shoved it into Tiffany’s hands – “and tell all your friends to come, too! It’ll be a blast! And oh, oh, I have to throw you a party too, since you’re a transfer student!”
“I – what – I don’t –” Tiffany stammered, but was interrupted by a scream from Pinkie.
“We’re here! We’re here! We’re at Stonyville! Whoo-hoo! See ya around, Tiff!”
And with that, the bus screeched to a stop and Pinkie scrambled from her seat and jetted through the crowd of students, pushing her way to the front before Tiffany could say a single word. The chubby boy shrugged apologetically to Tiffany with a simple, “that’s how Pinkie is,” before extracting himself from his seat and tottering after Pinkie.
Shaking her head, and slipping the invitation into her pocket, Tiffany waited at the back of the line like a civil person, still a little overwhelmed by Pinkie’s presence. The girl was a veritable tornado of energy and enthusiasm, a tornado that threatened to blow her away. Nevertheless, she was nice. Tiffany enjoyed listening to Pinkie talk, mostly because it saved her the trouble of responding.
When she finally stepped off the bus, her spirits had been restored and she strode confidently towards the school gates, where the rest of the students were headed. Thankfully, the rainbow-headed girl wasn’t anywhere in sight, nor were her cronies.
Tiffany entered the school and located the main office, which wasn’t too hard to find, since a giant sign in the lobby gave directions to all major facilities in the school for freshmen and transfers like her. The President had told her to collect an information packet, and she planned on doing just that.
“Excuse me,” Tiffany said politely to the bored-looking lady at the front desk, “do you have an information packet for a Tiffany Sparkle? I’m the new transfer from D.C., with President Celestine.”
At the last few words, the lady snapped to attention and whipped out a manila envelope from a stack of papers, presenting it to Tiffany with slightly trembling hands. “Yes, of course, Ms. Sparkle! Everything you need is in there. And if you ever have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask a teacher or a student – I’m sure they’ll help!”
“Please, call me Tiffany,” she said. Now, this was more like it! Thanking the woman and stepping into the hallway where students talked animatedly with their friends and caught up with classmates, Tiffany shook out the contents of the envelope. She caught a map, a schedule, and a list of her classes as they came sliding out, scanning her courses.
“AP World History … AP Chemistry … AP Spanish … Advanced Calculus …” As Tiffany read each course aloud, she nodded, and when she reached the last one, she couldn’t contain a little squeal of glee. “And then there’s College Literature! I can’t wait! I just know this is going to be wonderful.”
According to the sheet, she was in homeroom 211, which was on the second floor. I should hurry to homeroom before the tardy bell rings.
Fast-walking down the corridor, weaving between crowds of chatty students and stern teachers, Tiffany ran up a flight of stairs and bumped into someone, causing them to spill a stack of books all over the stairs.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Tiffany apologized as she stooped to help the person pick up their books. She’d slammed into a smaller girl with pale pink hair swept over one eye, who averted Tiffany’s questioning gaze and scrambled to pick up her books.
“T-thank you,” the girl mumbled in barely a whisper, meekly accepting the two books Tiffany handed her. One of them, Tiffany saw, was Ways of the World.
“Oh, you’re taking AP World, too?” Tiffany asked her in an attempt to be friendly. “I’m Tiffany Sparkle. What’s your name?”
The girl murmured something that she didn’t catch.
“Sorry, what was that?” She prompted her with a reassuring smile.
The girl murmured something inaudible again.
“One more time?”
“I-I said, my n-name is … F-Florence Shy … E-excuse me,” the girl squeaked, pushing past Tiffany with flustered apologies and bolting down the stairs. Tiffany looked at the retreating back of Florence with raised eyebrows, then dismissed the encounter with a shrug.
“Florence certainly lives up to her name,” Tiffany added under her breath.
She reached the second floor at last and strode down the hall quickly, the messenger bag thumping against her hip. Unfortunately, a group of people blocked the way to room 211, a group, Tiffany noticed as she got nearer, consisted primarily of males, though there were adoring females here and there.
“Rarity! Rarity!” The crowd crooned, mobbing a tall, stunning girl with silky purple hair and smooth, flawless skin.
“Oh, please, you flatter me,” the tall girl said with a light laugh, one reminiscent of bells or windchimes. “And can’t you all see that you’re blocking this poor creature’s way to her homeroom? Sorry, darling,” the girl said to Tiffany as the sea of people parted grudgingly to allow her entrance into 211, “but paparazzi can be such a handful. Ta-ta!”
I honestly don’t know if I should be offended or amused, Tiffany thought to herself as she finally traipsed into her homeroom, taking a seat close to the door. Nearly missing her bus, getting teased by a bunch of jocks, meeting Pinkie Pie, bumping into that mute girl on the stairway, then getting blocked by a swarm of “Rarity”’s fans … If this was any indication of how her day was going to go, she wasn’t sure if she could last.
