The Sidewalks of Noo Yoke
By Scoots2
Cherry Blossom didn’t know where she was, but she knew she probably shouldn’t be in an alley.
The whole family had been so excited when Daddy came home with the news that the bank needed a representative from Dodge Junction, and that they were all moving to Manehatten. Daddy told them how much he was going to be paid, and it was a fortune. They would be rich! She hadn’t thought at first about the hard parts of moving: packing, deciding which things she could take and which she would have to give away, and saying goodbye to all her friends. Still, she’d thought as they sped across the desert, they were going to live in Manehatten!
It hadn’t turned out the way she thought it would. What seemed like a fortune in Dodge Junction wasn’t so much in Manehatten. She’d overheard her parents talking about it while she was curled up with her little brother, Bing, and they thought she was asleep. They ended up moving where Daddy would have a long train ride to Manehatten every day. He would be gone before she got up for breakfast, and wouldn’t get home until after dinner. They didn’t live in a house anymore, either, but in a building they shared with five other families, none of whom had a filly her age to play with.
School was going to start soon, and she would have to go alone, where she didn’t know anypony. Daddy had walked with her, showing her how to get to school. She was supposed to walk down their street, cross at the corner, walk down another street, turn, walk up a third street, and there was the school. He reminded her, in a worried tone, always to look both ways before she crossed, and to be very careful. With Daddy trotting reassuringly by her side, it seemed simple. It would be easy as pie.
It wasn’t easy at all. The street was loud, and ponies pushed past her in both directions, bumping into her new saddlebags, smudging her clean white coat, and snapping at her to look where she was going. Big carts raced by in the street, and the drivers were all trying to move even faster, ringing bells and yelling at each other. Three carts had collided at the street corner where she was supposed to cross. She couldn’t go the way Daddy had shown her, and she became confused. Was she supposed to walk up Pastern Avenue, or down? As she stood there, trying to decide, more ponies banged into her, shouting at her to make up her mind. She tried going one way, then another, and all of them turned out to be wrong. Now she was in an alley, completely lost and feeling very unsafe.
With the crowds of ponies racing back and forth and blocking the entrance, she had no choice but to walk down the alley, although she had no idea what was at the other end. She stepped carefully around decaying cabbage, broken cider bottles, and old newspapers. Then she heard the heavy ring of iron shoes on the pavement behind her. She didn’t dare turn around, and she didn’t want to run, so she broke into a trot. The hoof falls grew louder, and the ringing sound closer. The alley was narrow, and there was nothing big enough to hide behind, so she broke into a full out gallop, until at last she slid on something green and slimy, fell to her knees, and skidded to a halt. Her pursuer was going to catch up to her, and they’d have to come face to face.
The filly was big. A kind pony would have called her sturdy, and an unkind one chubby. Her mane and tail were cut so short that she almost might have been mistaken for a colt, except for one long pink forelock that covered almost half of her face. The half that showed was wide, brown, freckled, and unsmiling. One green eye glared at her from underneath a knitted eyebrow. The effect was far from friendly, and even threatening. Cherry Blossom prepared herself for the worst, but instead, the brown filly stretched out her foreleg to give her a helping hoof up. She gratefully took it.
“You’ll wanna get some good solid iron shoes,” said the brown filly, in a voice that grated on Cherry Blossom’s ears like a hoof file. “Da streets are really hard on da hooves.”
Now that she could see the other filly up close, she saw that despite her size, she, like Cherry Blossom, had no cutie mark. She hadn’t meant to stare, but she saw her whip her short tail against her rump in a vain attempt to hide her flank, and then drop it.
“Sorry,” the brown filly said. “’Sno big deal. Force a habit. I’m tryin’ ta quit.” She glanced over at Cherry Blossom’s own flank. “Hey, you too?” she said, her face brightening, and lifted a hoof. Cherry Blossom looked at it, unsure of what to do, and then raised her own and touched hooves tentatively. That must have been wrong, because the other filly’s expression had changed back from almost welcoming to neutral. “P.S. 31?”
That was the school she was supposed to be going to, but she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing that the big filly was going there too. Still, if she were a classmate, she’d find out anyway. “Yes,” she admitted. “I’m Cherry Blossom. I’m new,” she added.
The other filly blew her long forelock out of her face. She could get a glimpse of both green eyes for a moment and she thought she caught a glint of amusement. “I wooda never of guessed. I’m new dere myself, but I been livin’ in dis neighborhood my whole life and I know da way dere, so ya maybe should come wit’ me.”
Was she being friendly? She wasn’t rushing forward or smiling, and she didn’t sound especially enthusiastic about meeting a brand new classmate. That didn’t seem right. Why, at Dodge Junction—
--at Dodge Junction, they’d be getting ready for the running of the leaves right now. She, Sugar Plum, and Peach Tree would be planning their Nightmare Night costumes. Did they even have seasons in Manehatten? What did they do to change them? Suddenly, she felt very homesick, and squeezed her eyes tight so she wouldn’t embarrass herself by bursting into tears. When she opened them, the other filly looked worried, but simply said, “we oughta get going. Late da first day, dat ain’t good.”
She didn’t seem very friendly by Dodge Junction standards, but she was offering to walk with her, and it didn’t make sense to say no, so she said yes.
“Cherry Blossom, huh?” the brown filly said. “Babs Seed over here. I know, I know,” she added, rolling her eyes, “but da alternative’s even worse. I should talk to Poppy ‘bout dat, but I just don’t have the chutzpah. Ya gotta take whatcha get in da name department, know what I’m sayin’? C’mon.” She started trotting down the alley, iron shoes ringing, and Cherry Blossom followed, trying to think of something polite to say.
“I really like your mane,” she finally said tentatively.
Babs cracked a laugh. “First time I heard dat!” she said, and blew her forelock out of her eyes. “Nice of ya to say so, I guess. Now you—ya got a nice mane,” glancing at Cherry Blossom’s curly red, pink, and white mane and tail, “but you’ll prob’ly wind up cuttin’ it short anyways. S’way more practical. So, you’re new, you’re not from da neighborhood---which, no offense, but it kinda stuck out by a mile—where you from, den?”
Slowly at first, then more quickly, she found herself telling the strange, stout filly everything. She talked about Dodge Junction; how far away it was from everywhere else, and how the cherry trees looked when they bloomed on Cherry Hill Ranch in the spring. She talked about the cherries and how they sorted them onto big belts into piles for cherry jam, cherry pies, cherry chimichangas, and cherry sauce for ice cream, which Daddy said was the best anywhere. She talked about the one room schoolhouse, Sugar Plum and Peach Tree, and most of all, Auntie Jubilee, who everypony said was still the most beautiful filly for miles around. Babs didn’t interrupt, and didn’t say much except for “really?” and “uh-huh” and “whoa!” but instead of feeling more homesick, Cherry Blossom felt better, because somepony now knew how wonderful home had been and why she missed it so badly. As she talked, they trotted past more cider bottles and piles of decaying vegetables, but now they didn’t seem so bad, and she thought she should say so.
“This isn’t so awful—I mean, this is nicer than I thought it would be,” she said. “Do you always go to school this way?”
Babs stopped short, turning to her with her one visible eye wide with surprise. “Who, me? I come dis way ‘cause I could see you was goin’ dis way and I didn’ think ya oughta come dis way alone. I never come dis way if I can help it.”
“Why not?”
Babs looked straight ahead, where two shadows fell across the opening of the alleyway. Her expression wiped flat. “ ‘Cause dis is why.”
Two large colts were blocking their way. One was almost the size of a fully-grown stallion. His coat was a muddy brown, and on his flank was the ugliest cutie mark Cherry Blossom had ever seen: a blobby round spot that glared red. Next to him stood a weedy grey and white colt with black stripes in his mane and some sort of bird on his flank. They’d have to get past them somehow. She could feel herself being shoved back firmly by a strong hind leg, with a muttered, “I got dis.”
Babs trotted forward confidently. She could tell the two colts weren’t expecting this, and they looked at each other in confusion.
“Morning, Stoplight, Pigeon Stripe. S’up? Gotta get goin’.” She tried to trot past them, but they blocked her. The larger colt growled, in a voice that didn’t even sound as though it belonged to a pony, “Gimme your hay money.”
She met his eyes with a cool stare. “Don’ think I will dis time.”
The weedy pony with the black and white mane said, “Well, ain’t we throwing our weight around. Whassa matter? You got your cutie mark now? Wanna show us? Or can’t we tell in that fat flank a yours? Ha ha!”
“Haw,” the big colt said obediently. Babs flipped her tail against her flank, then took a deep breath and uncurled it.
“I ain’t got one yet on account of I got potential,” she said, sounding as though she were repeating something somepony had told her. “And on dat note, I gotta leave you boys. Not dat it ain’t been fascinatin’,” she added politely, “but I gotta get ta school.” She began trotting away, drawing the two colts away from the alley entrance and leaving a clear path for Cherry Blossom to get out. Pigeon Stripe snorted in frustration and lashed out, his teeth snapping exactly where Babs’ tail would have been if she had worn it as long as the Dodge Junction filly did. She whisked her short tail away and spun to face both colts, bracing her stocky frame.
She looked first to the big colt. “Stoplight, we been livin’ on the same block practically since we been foals,” she said pleadingly. “Ya don’t really wanna cause no trouble. We ain’t so different, you an’ me. What say ya drop it wit’ da bad attitude, huh? You lemme get ta school, maybe we go out an’ split a milkshake later, maybe be friends. ‘Sup ta you.” Stoplight furrowed his brows, which disappeared under his forelock. It was obvious that he was thinking, and that this didn’t happen often.
“Hay!” Pigeon Stripe exclaimed. “What am I, hot bran mash?”
Babs backed away from him, drawing him still further away from Cherry Blossom, who took her chance and trotted out of the alley. “What? You wanna be friends, Pigeon Stripe? I gotta say, I’m stunned. Nah, I doubt it, but how ‘bout a little tolerance here? I’m all about da love an’ da tolerance. Well, maybe just da tolerance, but you got da general outline.”
“You think dat’s funny?” the grey colt asked angrily. He tapped his hoof impatiently on the sidewalk and snapped, “Whassamatta you, Stoplight?”
The big colt’s face brightened. He’d finally finished his thought.
“You AN’ her gimme your hay money,” he said, and shambled slowly, but threateningly, closer to Babs, while Pigeon Stripe circled around and blocked her from fleeing back up the alley.
Babs’ eyes met Cherry Blossom’s over Stoplight’s huge shoulder. She knitted her eyebrows and glared at her. It was impossible to mistake her meaning: run. The little white filly didn’t want to run, though. It felt wrong to leave Babs, although she had no idea what she could do. Should she try to fight if necessary? Should she go for help? She realized in frustration that she didn’t even know where or in what direction she should go. In Dodge Junction, somepony would know if colts and fillies were fighting and they’d step right out into the street and stop it. If she could find a store or the school, would they pay any attention to her? Would they get back in time?
“Dat’s right,” Pigeon Stripe said with satisfaction. “You tell her, Stoplight.” He raised a hoof and poked Babs in the shoulder. Cherry Blossom winced. It looked as though it must hurt. “Don’t like dat, do ya?”
“Cut dat out, Pigeon Stripe,” Babs said angrily, and glared at the Western filly again, but by now, Cherry Blossom was determined not to run, no matter what happened.
“What? You gonna cry for us, crybaby?” he jeered. “Cry. G’wan ahead an’ cry. Whatcha gonna do, snitch on me an’ Stoplight, crybaby?”
Babs crouched, dropping closer to the street. “I ain’t no crybaby,” she said defiantly, “and I ain’t no snitch, but I will tell my big sis. Ya want me to tell Avocado ya were givin’ me an’ my friend here grief, ‘s your funeral.”
“You ain’t gonna tell Avocado nothin’,” Pigeon Stripe shot back, “on account of you’re gonna be glue before you get da chance. Get ‘er, Stoplight.” Stoplight rushed forward.
Cherry Blossom couldn’t quite remember what happened next. She thought perhaps that Babs had simply ducked under Stoplight’s belly, but then he began to roll forward. Surely she couldn’t have kicked him, but her hind legs snapped back and encouraged him to continue his trajectory. He somersaulted magnificently into a line of trashcans and ended up on his back, all four legs in the air. Babs wheeled around to Pigeon Stripe and blew her forelock out of her eyes. Probably she just wanted to be able to see better, but it might well have meant you next. Either way, the weedy gray colt spooked and galloped down the street. Babs shook her head.
“Sorry ya hadda see that,” she said regretfully. “I wouldn’ wantcha ta think dey’re representative of da whole neighborhood.” She adjusted her saddlebags, obviously checking to see that her books hadn’t come to any harm, and began to trot away. Cherry Blossom stared at the colt still lying cross-eyed, surrounded by rotten fruit, worn down salt blocks, and spit-out chaw.
“What about him?”
Babs turned back to look at her. “Who, Stoplight?” she said, surprised. “Stoplight’s all right. He’ll have a nice peaceful nap, and he’ll prob’ly come around and decide ta be friends. I make more friends dat way,” she said, thoughtfully flexing a solid hind leg. “It always pays ta be friendly. I learned dat in da country on’y dis summer. ‘Course,” she added cheerfully, “in da city, you gotta tweak it a little. Welcome to da Broncs.”
Cherry Blossom dazedly trotted after Babs, following her as her iron shoes cast up sparks from the cobblestones. She could hardly take it all in as her new friend began to talk about the ponies who lived in the neighborhood: Knishes Delicious, Whitewash, Mr. and Mrs. Planter, and the vast family of Seeds, including her Poppy, older sister Avocado, and her brother Coconut. The sounds, sights and smells around her slowly began to make sense. The whirring overhead came from the traffic pegasi, reporting on collisions and gridlock; the flashing red and green lights were created by the unicorns in charge of safety, “on’y they obviously din’t pay attention up on Pastern dis mornin’. Ain’t dat always da way.” Mixed in with the garbage smells were the scents of hundreds of different kinds of food from all over Equestria. “You won’t get dat nowhere but in Noo Yoke,” Babs said proudly. At the center of this confusing and exciting new world, the solid little filly trotted on, the grate of her voice matching the city noises and her simple coat blending with the brownstones. The city was Babs’ world, and she was beginning to think she’d like to be a part of it, too.
“So,” Babs was saying, “we got dis club, see. . .”
Author's Note
There's nothing I like more than action that occurs just offscreen. I spent more time tinkering with Babs' accent than I'd like to admit, and finally resorted to watching Moonstruck. Anyway, hope you enjoy this. There's a lot more to say about Babs' world!
EDIT: Holy crow, people are reading this! Thanks so much, guys, and thanks to EQD for featuring it.
