La Poulain De Rue

by doctor dapples

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad
Length: 4418

Scootaloo reflects on her life on the streets of Ponyville, making ends meet and living without a home and without a family.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders are three of a kind. They do everything together, whenever they can, and they're the best of friends. But in spite of their common bond, Scootaloo still hasn't told them the truth about where she really goes at the end of the day. How could they understand what it is like to have no parents? To have no home?

Artwork by Gavalanche

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-12-20 07:04:22 UTC

At the End of the Day

“...one hundred and two, one hundred and three, one hundred and four...”

        “And that’s it!”

        “That doesn’t seem like a lot. Especially if we’re splitting them three ways.”

        Sweetie Belle took what she assumed to be her third of the rubber bands and looked at the diminutive pile. She imagined the jump from the top of Carousel Boutique, followed by the snapping of the elastic, the fall, and the gruesome crash. She winced. “Maybe sis has some more lying around. I can bring them by tomorrow morning.”

        Apple Bloom split the remaining pile in half, and made a face. She was little, but she was still an Earth pony, and a growing one, at that. She was going to need more than this. “Ah can check the barn tonight. There’s all kinds of supplies lyin’ around in there. I’m sure I can figure out something!”

        Scootaloo looked at what was left. She was a lot lighter than the others, and was honestly convinced that she might have enough. Still, she spoke up. “Yeah, I’ll do some hunting around the house to see if there’s not some secret rubber band storage that I don’t know about. It’s pretty big, so there’s a lot of places that I haven’t looked yet!”

        “Is your house really that big?”

        Scootaloo’s eyes opened wide. Oh Celestia, why did I say that? “Well, it’s not that big,” she said, laughing nervously. “It just seems big because I’m... small?”

        Apple Bloom raised her hooves in triumph. “We could be Cutie Mark Crusader House Explorers!” Sweetie Belle joined her in an enthusiastic “Yay!”

        “...yay...” responded Scootaloo, a little too quietly for the other excited fillies to catch.

        Thankfully, by the time the Cutie Mark Crusader Planning Session had ended for the day, Scootaloo had made so many other, more exciting suggestions that the House Explorer option was forgotten. Who wanted to search a boring old house when there was hang-gliding? Or pie throwing? Or vampire hunting? As their discussion of good hiding places for undead ponies took itself outside, Scootaloo interrupted them to excuse herself. She wished both Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle “good night” and sped off towards Ponyville on her blue scooter. The unicorn and Earth pony followed her lead, and made their way into town, laughing and talking all the way.

        A few minutes later, after the other fillies were out of sight, the orange pegasus parked her scooter behind the wide trunk of the apple tree that held the clubhouse. She hated having to make that wide circle through the orchard whenever her and her friends called it a day, but it still beat a straight trip to nothing.

        She climbed up the ramp to the clubhouse, the tan color muted by the slowly setting sun. When she had first set eyes on the structure, introduced by an excited Applejack, she had seen it much the same way as her friends. It was an abandoned building which, had it been in town, would have been condemned long ago. But that night, as she huddled underneath the merry-go-round next to the red school house, she reconsidered its possibilities.

        Imagine her surprise the next day to discover the ramshackle shed had been repaired from top to bottom. As Apple Bloom rattled off the various renovations she had made, Scootaloo couldn’t help noticing just how much it looked like a tiny house. No, not a house. A home. She wanted to hug her yellow-furred friend, to thank her, but instead she remained her usual aloof self: “That’s so cool! What’s Sweetie Belle up to?”

        Before she had met Sweetie Belle, she had kept pretty much to herself in school. Aside from her resounding appetite at lunch, which she blamed on her athletic metabolism, she didn’t particularly stand out. By this point in the school year, she had resolved to keep her grades strictly mediocre. She was a capable reader, and was particularly confident in math, but doing either too well or too poorly risked bringing attention to herself. If she failed, Miss Cheerilee would want to have a parent-teacher conference. If she did particularly well, she might want to congratulate them on how well they raised their foal.

        “This is my daughter, Scootaloo.” The dark red Earth pony tousled her pink mane with his hoof as the two of them stood in front of the schoolteacher at the beginning of the school year. “Make sure she behaves herself. She can be a real hoofful sometimes!”

        “She’s in good hooves, sir,” Cheerilee said, smiling at the tiny filly. Scootaloo and her father embraced, and he was off until the end of the day. After that, it was off to wherever they were staying. They had tried the orchards of Sweet Apple Acres for a while, but the workers there covered a lot of ground. They risked being chased off of the property, and he wanted to protect his daughter from that shame, at least. Most nights, they crouched against apple crates stacked between houses and other buildings. They stole the occasional apple from poorly sealed boxes, and cuddled together for warmth.

        There was another memorable embrace, which came later that autumn, before Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. One night, her father woke her up from a sound sleep, talking about a job he had to look into. He’d be gone for a little while, but he’d be back for her soon. She was half awake for most of his speech, but at the end, he squeezed her, and the hug seemed to last a little longer than usual. As he pulled away, she felt a drop of moisture that had fallen onto her muzzle. For some reason, he was crying.

        The clubhouse on its own was a hollow and isolated affair, but she had scored a small victory when she was able to secure something she considered a luxury. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had initially balked at the idea. “What the hay we need a mattress for?” had been the Earth pony’s incredulous and somewhat vulgar response. But it didn’t take much for them to appreciate Scootaloo’s gift to herself. After a day of zip-lining and climbing small mountains, the prospect of curling up at headquarters and taking a short nap was particularly appealing. And the thought of spending the next winter with a roof over her head, doors and windows closed, usually caused her to fall asleep with a smile on her face.

        Sweetie Belle was the one to provide her first real smiles in months. When they became friends, she found herself invited to sleepovers at the Carousel Boutique. She’d fall asleep wrapped in expertly sewn quilts after filling her tummy with hot chocolate and marshmallows. When Apple Bloom joined the group, there were nights spent at the farmhouse, telling ghost stories and enjoying second helpings of apple pie. All she had to do to take part in these outings was obtain “permission” from her dad, wherever he was. After a couple of forged letters which described how busy he was with his work at home, Rarity and Applejack stopped asking. Scootaloo’s father was obviously a very busy stallion.

        The downside was that she always left these sleepovers with a pang of jealousy. She loved her friends, but she hated that they had so many things she didn’t. They slept in warm beds every night, they never wondered where their next meal would come from, and they had someone to come home to at night. She wanted a big sister of her own, but she wasn’t interested in a sophisticated unicorn seamstress, or a hard-talking Earth pony applebucker. She needed an athlete who would take her under her wing, not just metaphorically, but literally. She wanted Rainbow Dash beside her at night, when the wind felt like it would rip the flesh from her bones. She wanted to wrap those feathers around her body, and feel not just warm, but safe.

        Ponyville wasn’t particularly unsafe, but Scootaloo had never been able to fully shake her memory of “him.” One day, while her father was scouring for something to eat, a yellow unicorn asked her where she was going. They began having a conversation, which ended with him offering her a warm meal. Before she could accept the friendly pony’s outstretched hoof, her father reappeared, and a heated argument ensued, ending with the unicorn storming off into his house. Months later, when she was on her own, the unicorn made a second appearance, this time inviting her into his house, with the promise of a warm and comfortable bed. She briefly considered it, but the memory of the argument and a nagging voice in the back of her head made her politely refuse. Weeks later, there was a stir in town as that same unicorn was hauled away by the Royal Guard. The word “foal” was on everypony’s lips, and while she didn’t know exactly what they were talking about, she could tell by the way the words dripped out of their mouths that the implications were sinister.

        More than anything, she wondered what her friends would think of her real name. She barely remembered it herself. Her mother, whom was either a beautiful and tender white pegasus with a mane like a sunset or a cruel and vengeful witch (depending on her father’s mood), had picked it out before she was even born. But as far back as she could remember, her father’s phrase was “it’s time to scoot along!” and it was always followed by a packing up of their meager belongings, and a move to another town.

        Right before their third escape, her father rolled out his motto: “It’s time to scoot along!”, and the tiny orange foal looked up with her wide purple eyes and shouted “scoot aloo!” From that day forward, though her father occasionally used her real name, the nickname was the one he used right before he kissed her goodnight.

        She remembered those kisses with a sad sigh. She still missed her father. Possibly always would. She snuggled her body into the mattress. Ultimately, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom couldn’t understand what she’d been through. Their lives were much simpler, much happier. They hadn’t gotten their cutie marks because they were still trying to decide what to do with their lives. Until recently, Scootaloo hadn't thought much about her special talents. She was more focused on day-to-day survival.

        The bad news was that life remained difficult, and she suspected that her father wouldn’t be returning for her. The good news was that even though he was gone, she was surviving. She had a roof over her head, and she had met a lot of ponies who did care for her. She had friends whom she could trust with anything. Maybe one day, even this. Things were getting better, even if that progress seemed almost agonizingly slow at times. She grabbed her Cutie Mark Crusader cloak, clutched it tightly against her chest, and fell asleep.

I Dreamed a Dream

She chuckled as she unrolled her sleeping bag. No matter how much Apple Bloom denied it, Scootaloo recognized the symptoms of feather flu. Before any pegasus took their first flight, they got a crash course in how to catch the signs of the disease, lest it escalate in the middle of a flight. Of course, she knew that other ponies could catch it, and the cramps just built up in their shoulders instead of their wings. Still, Scootaloo couldn’t help accusing her friend of cozying up with Rumble. Her accent seemed to get stronger whenever she was defensive.

“Ah didn’t do nothin’!”

“Oh, I absolutely believe you,” Sweetie Belle had said, giving Scootaloo a very unsubtle wink. Apple Bloom snorted with frustration as Scootaloo did her best to maintain her composure. But even with the teasing, Apple Bloom was still disappointed to see her fellow Crusaders shooed out by her Granny.

“She needs to rest, not get into an argument with you little pastern biters!” For an elderly pony with a bad hip, Granny Smith could certainly push a couple of fillies out of a room with a minimum of effort. Once the door of the Apple family home shut behind them, they looked at each other with indecisiveness.

“I guess we’re not having a meeting today, huh?” asked Scootaloo.

“I guess not,” sighed Sweetie Belle. “Well, I think I might go see what Rarity is up to. She can always use a helping hoof around the boutique. Do you want to come?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “I’ll pass. I’m not feeling artsy-crafty today. Anything I try to sew today will just come out looking awful.”

“I still think your monkey sweater would have been a bestseller.”

“It was supposed to be a turtle.”

Sweetie thought on the design for a moment, before her smile grew even wider. “Maybe you’re just ahead of the curve!”

Scootaloo smiled back. “In that case, I’ll give the rest of the industry today to catch up. I’ve got some errands of my own to run. But thanks anyway.”

“No problem! See you tomorrow!” And Sweetie Belle trotted off towards Carousel Boutique, with a spring in her step and unplanned mischief in her future.

The clubhouse had felt particularly warm lately, though Scootaloo suspected that the new sleeping bag contributed to that feeling. When Rainbow Dash had returned to Ponyville from her first training session, she had met Scootaloo after school with a bundle under her wing: the same wing that she had used to pull her close when she had gotten scared during the camping trip. It was an official Wonderbolts sleeping bag, bought from the Exchange. “Just a little something to make up for me being away for a while!” The hug that had followed, nestled between the soft but sturdy fabric, and the warmth of Rainbow’s feathers and pelt, had been one of those moments of security that she wished she could have frozen in time.

There was a time where Scootaloo had hated the days when the Crusaders didn’t meet. It meant a day alone with her thoughts and her fears. Her scooter distracted her, but she was getting too good at it, and after a couple of laps through town, she was bored and seeking something else with which to pass the daylight hours. These were usually the times when she started thinking about her father. She wondered what he was up to, and if he had reunited with her mother. She wondered if they were both still alive, and if they were, would they ever come back for her?

Since the camping trip, these thoughts were much easier to force down. Even a brief memory of Rainbow placing trust in her made Scootaloo feel like there was a place for her, and that she wasn’t just a fun pony to play with, but somepony others would want for a friend. She squirmed on the sleeping bag, savoring the silky touch of the Wonderbolts emblem against her withers. The door was shut, the windows were latched, and her body heat made a perfect bubble in that tiny shack in Sweet Apple Acres. It felt safe, and it wasn’t long before Scootaloo’s head rolled back, and she fell into a deep sleep.

In the dream, Scootaloo was home, though it wasn’t quite any home in which she had lived. Home appeared to be a mixture of foalhood memories of her mother’s cabin, the Apple family farm, and the Cutie Mark Crusader clubhouse. She knew that she was older, not quite Rainbow’s age, and she saw Rainbow herself standing by the window, looking out into the yard. She had also aged, clearly having built up muscle in her training. Even from across the room, Scootaloo could read her expression: a small, tranquil smile that comes with age and experience.

Scootaloo immediately felt her body tense. She knew she had to approach her. The moment was perfect for another warm embrace, and another tearful heart-to-heart. For the first time, Scootaloo finally had the strength to say what she always wanted to say. She reared back in preparation for her joyful leap forward, but was held back by another hoof placed on her withers.

“You can’t talk to her.” She recognized his voice immediately.

“You’re not really here.”

“Neither are you, Scootaloo.” The earth pony gave her shoulder a squeeze that would have comforted her in her waking hours, but knowing that he was simply an illusion, a shadow of a phantom, it felt like her own mind was mocking her.

Scootaloo shook the tension out of her head. “She’s my big sister, Dad.”

Her father’s laugh was hearty, and the lights of the cabin flickered with its peals. “Sweetie, you know you’re an only child. Your mother couldn’t even handle the one daughter she had. If Crystal had given birth before, she never would have even considered you.”

“No.”

Rainbow looked over towards the two of them. The smile had disappeared, and her eyes were cloudy with tears.

The stallion pointed towards the pegasus with his other hoof. “Don’t you see? She knows she can’t do anything for you. She just doesn’t want to tell you.” He lowered his muzzle to the level of Scootaloo’s ear. “But I’ve always helped you. I kept you safe in the snow and the rain.”

Scootaloo did her best to fight them, but her anger betrayed her hidden anguish. “You left me! How are you protecting me now?”

“I’m protecting your heart, little one. Keeping it... keeping you... safe from shattering. You’re nothing but a little glass doll, Scootaloo.”

Her teeth ground together as the tears poured from her eyes.

“And when you break, you’ll cut them all to the bone.”

“That’s enough!” She spun around in a fury, and glared at her father. She stared deep into his eyes, the same violet of her own, but duller and world-weary, the result of hundreds of miles of running. “You can’t talk that way to me. Where have you been for all these years? You don’t get to teach me. You don’t get to help me. If I’ve failed, it’s because I had nothing but your own failures to aspire to. And if I’m broken, it’s because that’s how you made me!”

She didn’t even have the courage to turn around and see Rainbow reaching out half-heartedly towards her. Instead Scootaloo shoved past her father with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, and burst out the front door. The sunny landscape that she had seen out the window had been replaced with a torrential downpour, the drops cold and stinging as ice. Her father’s voice chased after her as she ran:

“Don’t let the cold fool you! You’re always burning, Scootaloo!”

She shut her eyes tight, trying to contain the last of her tears as she galloped away from the cabin and into the woods. It didn’t matter where she went, but she had to get away from him. “He’s not real, he’s not real, your real father would never say those things,” she kept repeating to herself, but his poison had hit its mark. He had already stolen her past from her, and now he was determined to spoil any hope of her future. She would have screamed had she not collided with a large block of granite.

Mumbling swears under her breath, the dazed pegasus looked up to see a statue three times her size. Rearing up on her hind legs was a royal alicorn, with the distinctive white crescents on her throat and hindquarters that signified the Guardian of the Moon.

She glared at the Princess’s image. When she had last encountered Luna, Scootaloo had been led to believe that the nightmares were over. She had told Rainbow how scared she was, and how badly she wanted someone to be her big sister. That had held off the bad dreams until tonight. “What more do you want of me?” she cried, but the stone remained silent to her pleas.

“I know you can hear me! We’re not done here!” She yelled until her throat felt stripped. “You said the nightmares would stop if I faced my fears!” And at that, the sky opened, and a jagged bolt of lightning struck the statue. The impact flung her backwards, and for a moment, the intense white light of the illuminated statue blinded her.

Scootaloo woke up, gasping for air. Once she had regained her bearings, verifying that yes, she was still in grade school, and yes, she was still in the Cutie Mark Crusader clubhouse, she turned her thoughts to the last thing to cross her mind in the dream. The lightning was not a freak bolt from the sky. It was Luna, asking her the question:

“Were you not honest?”

Scootaloo rubbed her temples with her hooves. Honest about what? Her fears? Her need for someone to take her under her wing? For someone to treat her like a big sister? “Do I just lack guidance? Or should I have told her why?”

“Why what?”

“Why I need someone else. Why even my closest friends don’t know the truth about what I do every day. Why I’m constantly lying...” She paused at the last word, and swallowed. Her eyes hurt, and if there were any tears left in her, she would have cried again. “I don’t know what to do, Luna. I really do want to tell them - Rainbow, Sweetie, Apple Bloom. But I’m so, so scared. If they knew just how bad it has been, how much baggage I’ve carried, they might run from me. And if they don’t run, I’ll just be making their lives harder. Just because my life is a mess, it doesn’t give me the right to place a load on them. They’re wonderful ponies, and they deserve better than that.” Scootaloo hung her head low, wishing she could sob. Crying usually helped when she felt like this.

“So do you, sugarcube.”

At the entrance to the clubhouse, backlit by the moon, was the immediately recognizable outline of the keeper of the Element of Honesty. “How long have you been there?” asked Scootaloo nervously.

Applejack tilted her head back. “Not very long. Macintosh said that he was concerned about blight in this part of the orchard, and I wasn’t able to get to it during the day, so I was making a quick pass. Then I heard someone making noise from inside the clubhouse. I thought maybe some trespassers were holing up in here.”

“I’m afraid there is.”

Applejack approached the filly, her eyes softened. “You’re never a trespasser here, Scootaloo. Though I do wish you’d tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t.”

“With all due respect, judging from the sound of your dreams, you can’t afford not to. I promise I’ll keep it between us as long as you want me to.”

Scootaloo sighed. “I don’t have a home, Applejack.”

Applejack crooked her head to the side. “Your parents?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“Tell me about it.” And Scootaloo let her story pour out. She told Applejack about the good days, where she was able to find relatively untouched food behind the restaurants, and the really good days, where she was invited to meals with her friends, in warm and cozy houses. She told her about the bad days, too, and about going to bed hungry, cold, and scared. And with a little bit of prodding, she told Applejack about the really bad nights, when her mind ran wild, and she went to bed hoping that she wouldn’t have to suffer through another one.

“They don’t happen as often, anymore. That’s one thing I’m thankful for. I can’t thank you and the girls enough for all you have done for me, even if you didn’t know how much it meant.”

Scootaloo felt a foreleg wrap around her shoulder. The yellow hide was not as soft as the feathers on Rainbow’s wing, but the embrace was no less strong. “You don’t have to thank us, hun. I’m sorry you’ve been through all of this. Nopony should have to suffer like you have.”

Scootaloo smirked. “It’s okay.”

“No, it ain’t. But a promise is a promise, and I won’t tell anypony without your say.”

She burrowed her head into Applejack’s strong barrel. “Thank you.” But as she was about to close her eyes and savor the warmth, she felt a hoof lift her head to meet Applejack’s gaze.

“But I need you to promise me something, Scootaloo,” she pleaded with a concern so genuine, the filly could only nod. “Promise me that you’ll tell your friends. It doesn’t have to be immediately, just one day.”

“What if they don’t-”

Applejack softly stroked the filly’s pink mane. “They will.”

The next night found the entire Apple family sitting down to dinner with a new guest.

“I’m so excited that you could stay for dinner, Scootaloo!” yelled Apple Bloom for the third time, earning a frustrated expression from Granny Smith. Scootaloo sank deeper into her chair.

Applejack just chuckled. “Well, actually, I wanted to run an idea by you. It seems that Scootaloo’s dad is going to be out of town for the winter, and she could use a cozy place to sleep. I know you’re probably not interested, so I’ll just let Sweetie Belle-”

“What are you talking about?” called out Apple Bloom, her jaw on the floor. “Scootaloo’s always welcome here! She can sleep in my room! Oh, it’ll be so much fun!”

Scootaloo couldn’t help but blush. Applejack smiled at the embarrassed, but happy filly and gave her a wink.

Apple Bloom could hardly keep still. “Can I please be excused? I wanna go get my bedroom set up!” She was already halfway up the stairs, with Scootaloo in tow, before Granny Smith gave her reluctant “okay.”

She added, looking after the two fillies, “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen that girl excited about getting some shut-eye.”

“Eeyup.”

“You two are nuts. They’ll be up all night talking. It’s what growing fillies do.”

“Oh dear,” said Granny Smith. “I always worry about the younger generation. I see them running around all over the place, and I’m always scared about them making bad decisions.”

Applejack smiled. “I certainly don’t think they have all the answers, but I reckon they just need time. They’ll figure it out.”