Obliteration, Chaos, Destruction
Twilight's hoof shot up so quickly, the resulting gust of wind completely ravaged the right side of her previously neatly-styled mane. But for the moment, Twilight couldn't care less about such vanity, as her mind was completely occupied with two simultaneous thoughts, the first being the well-versed answer to the posed question, the second consisting of 'Pick me! Pick me! Oh please, oh please, pick me!' on a continuous loop.
“Anypony else want to answer that?” Mrs. Notes asked the classroom. Half the students stared back with a look of complete apathy, the other half didn't pay any attention to her whatsoever, lively chatting with each other, doodling something into their notebooks (or in one case onto the table), or building a functioning catapult out of an eraser, a set of pencils, and a rubber band. It didn't really matter, as homeroom was just an excuse to keep the students occupied anyway. “Anypony? Moondancer? You maybe? No? Alright then. Twilight, would you give us the answer?”
“Certainly!” Twilight replied dutifully. “The report card was invented by Dream Catcher in 893 A.C., a local teacher in a school in Baltimare who presented his idea to the school board on May Seventeenth of the same year, which approved it unanimously. The idea behind it was to give students incentive to give their very best at school everyday, and to also give future employers the ability to differentiate applicants by the grades they had received in school some years or even decades earlier. The idea was then turned into a proposition, which was brought before Princess Celestia later that year, and finally approved on December Second. It was implemented into Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns the following year and has remained effective ever since.”
“Very good, Twilight,” Mrs. Notes praised, “and a hundred percent correct. Although I have no idea about those dates. We'll just have to trust you on that. Anyway, what was I saying?” The mare of advanced age took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Ah, yes, I wanted to tell you that report cards haven't really existed for that long and you should be very grateful to receive them. I hope whatever your grades are, may they be good or bad,” At the word 'bad' she took her time to eye Bruise Burn in the back row, “I hope they motivate you to do even better in the next year. And now, without further ado, I'll present to you your report cards. I'll be giving them out alphabetically.”
Today was the last day of school, or 'payday' as Twilight liked to call it. She had never actually been paid for anything in all her life, but she imagined this was how it must feel like. She enjoyed the tingling sensation of finally receiving what she worked so hard for the past months, the validation of a whole year of being exemplary.
And it would take a whole two more minutes until Mrs. Notes would finally reach her table. Twilight cursed her luck that she had to be born with the name Sparkle.
Shifting nervously on her seat, she mentally tried to recite the opening lines of 'The Life and Times of Clover the Clever' to keep herself occupied, but time continued to drag on ever so slowly. Finally, after what felt like a few eternities (not that many, probably only two or three, but certainly more than one) Mrs. Notes finally reached her desk and presented Twilight with the so dearly desired notarized sheet of paper. Her homeroom teacher said something to her, but she was already busy scanning the contents of her grade card one by one.
History: A. The history of Pre-Celestial Equestria was a piece of cake. In the end, it just boiled down to 1252 loosely connected facts and dates, hardly anything worth studying for an entire school year.
Potion Mixing: A. This had given Twilight the most trouble at the start of the school year. She hadn't known anything about potion mixing before taking the class, it seemed a little pointless to her to apply potions when you could just use magic instead, but she pulled through eventually as her A stood witness.
Magical Clairvoyance: A. No surprise there at all. If Twilight couldn't have predicted that without taking a look, she would have hardly earned her grade now, would she?
Fire Magic: B+. There were actually several courses at choice instead of fire magic, including a unicorn perspective on weather and farming magic, but ultimately Twilight decided for something more interesting that involved more practical applications, which was Mr. Focal's fire magic class.
Equestrian Literature: A. This year, the teacher tried to liven things up a little by studying the Daring Do book series. Normally, Twilight wouldn't have thought of this as a good idea, but with a book series as amazing as Daring Do...
Twilight halted. Did she misread? Could that really be true? When her eyes moved back up the sheet, she saw the truth, the horrible, undeniable, devastating truth. She really had a B+ in fire magic.
How could it have come to this? Where did she go wrong? Twilight felt dirty, filthy, and it didn't seem like anything could ever get her clean again. This awful, awful B+ would forever remain a stain on her flawless school record and no amount of guilt, shame, crying, or even redemption could ever make it go away. No, she would have to take the consequences all by herself.
She could barely imagine what devastating effects this would have on her future. Of course Princess Celestia would dismiss her as her personal student; nopony with such a blatant disregard for her education could ever dream of staying the protegé of the ruler of Equestria. This might even lead to getting expelled from the School for Gifted Unicorns, since keeping such a disgrace as herself might be harmful to its reputation too. And her parents? They would just be so incredibly disappointed in her.
Her throat was constricting; it became hard to breathe. She looked up from her desk onto the blackboard, but her eyes couldn't focus. In fact the whole room itself seemed to be unable to focus, suddenly spinning off into all kinds of directions. Then, everything went black.
* * *
When Twilight came to, she felt bright clinical light burning her eyes, so she covered them with her hoof. A moment later, they had adjusted, and she sat up from the examination couch to inspect the unfamiliar environment around her.
It was easily deducible that she was in the back room of the nurse's office, given the ridiculous amount of health education posters plastering all four walls from top to bottom. Plus, it was only sensible for her to be brought here.
What did leave an open question, which very much bothered Twilight, were the whereabouts of the nurse. Was Twilight supposed to sit and wait for her return, all the while reading up on 'The Importance of Brushing Your Teeth'? That seemed rather dull. On the other hoof, just getting up and leaving would leave the nurse worried and could get both of them in trouble. The only viable option was to sit it out, so that was what Twilight was going to do.
For no more than five minutes. After that, the boredom became unbearable. The newly-gained expertise on dental hygiene couldn't keep her mind occupied any longer. The only thing standing between Twilight and the door was her saddle-bag, which she definitely needed to pick up first and which unfortunately was nowhere to be seen.
Fortunately, the first thing she stumbled over when she got up from the examination couch was her missing saddle bag. The second thing she stumbled over, once she got up from her first fall, was a hemodynamometer that had been carelessly dropped to the floor.
After picking herself up for the second time, she proceeded to do the same with the spilled contents of her saddle bag. Among all the quills and notebooks, Twilight also found a sheet of paper she had no recollection of. Curious as to what it might be, she turned it over. It was her report card. Everything went black once again.
* * *
“You're finally up!” A rough, throaty, yet unmistakeably feminine voice greeted Twilight when she regained consciousness.
Twilight looked up. The voice belonged to Hot Shot, the school nurse, who upon seeing Twilight get up, returned her gaze back to her desk which was overflowing with paperwork, leaving her back turned towards her supposed patient.
“What happened?” Twilight asked, dizziness still filling her mind.
“You tell me. Moondancer drops you off, I lay you on the examination couch, I leave you alone for a couple of hours, and suddenly I find you lying on the floor. What's up with that?”
Twilight strained her memory and soon everything came back to her: the homeroom period, her report card, her blackout, her second glance at her report card, her second blackout...
“Wait, you just left me on my own while I lay here unconscious? Isn't that a bit irresponsible?”
“No, you see... well, maybe. Probably. I don't know. And I don't really care any more. This is my last day anyway. From tomorrow on, I'll be a grill salesmare in the San Palomino desert. Can't possibly pay less than what I'm making here.”
Twilight's strong sense of responsibility refused to let the nurse off the hook that easily. “But what if I had some serious injury? Did you even bother to check on me before you left?”
“Look, kid, I checked you for a concussion and you seemed fine, so I thought: 'What the hay, might as well take a walk and get some things done. I certainly have better things to do than watch over some unconscious student.'
“For crying out loud, she's almost as annoying as Mr. Focal," Hot Shot said to herself. "At least as a grill salesmare I won't have smart-mouthed foals talking back to me, telling me how to do my job. No, as a grill salesmare all I have to deal with is grills and riches.”
The two ponies sat silently for a minute, as Hot Shot continued her paperwork, before she decided to break the silence with a loud: “Can I help you with anything else?”
“Um, no, I don't think so.”
“Then why don't you grab your things and get lost!”
Not wanting to argue, Twilight did as she was told, leaving for the school's main corridor. She figured that today the school was definitely not losing a particularly valuable employee.
The hallway gave off an eerie feeling. The sun was slowly setting (apparently she had been unconscious much longer than she thought), and the hall lights weren't gracious enough to lighten up the hallway beyond a dim twilight, half of them being broken, the rest scarcely doing more than flicker. In fact, it seemed like the entire maintenance staff had decided to take their leave a couple of weeks early, or maybe to abandon this part of the school entirely and leave it to be reconquered by the wilderness. The thick layers of dust and the plentiful cobwebs in every nook and cranny would have made the corridor the perfect setting for the start of a ghost story, if any ghost story was crazy enough to be set in a school.
Twilight felt a strong urge to get out of there as quickly as possible, but her conscience had other plans: it was determined to find out more about that dreadful B+ and if there was even a remote possibility to get rid of it, maybe even saving her career and allowing her to continue her studies at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. First of all, she would need to find her fire magic teacher Mr. Focal, and the most logical place he would be was the teachers' lounge. With much determination, she put her hooves into motion.
The silence was nerve-wracking. Twilight had never seen her school like this. In the entire hallway, there wasn't a single sign of life, the only sound coming from the clacking of her hooves on the floor, the only motion coming from her shadow, mimicking her way along the wall, startling her time and time again as it suddenly tripled in size, before just as quickly fading away into obscurity.
Twilight's nerves were tense beyond compare. She couldn't believe how long the hallway had become all of a sudden. In rushes of paranoia, she kept looking behind herself, and to the right, the left, up, down, into every conceivable direction, fearing that in some dark corner there might be an otherworldly predator lurking, and if she wouldn't discover it first, she would inevitably become its prey.
When the pounding started, Twilight's heart skipped a beat.
It was a slow but rhythmic low-pitch sound that started quietly, but soon became louder and louder. Twilight froze in place. She made her best efforts to rationalize the whole situation, repeating over and over that there was no reason for a monster of any sorts to invade school property. It worked to some degree, but her confidence was always shattered anew by the next pound.
Eventually, she figured she could move forward by making a single hoofstep between each subsequent noise. Slowly but surely she made way, reaching the end of the hallway and turning a corner. But the next hallway around the corner wasn't any more inviting than the last one. The only thing good about it was that the source of that dreadful beating noise now came into sight at the far end of the corridor: the teachers' lounge.
Of course it had to be the teachers' lounge, there was no reason for fate to be any less cruel, Twilight figured. She closed her eyes to gave herself some space to think.
She knew there were at least a dozen logical explanations for the pounding, even though she couldn't think of a single one. But what really mattered was getting to Mr. Focal to get some closure on her B+. And the only way she could achieve this was by being courageous and reaching that teachers' lounge door, no matter what spawn of Tartarus might be obstructing her way. Twilight opened her eyes again.
She knew how ridiculous the idea was, but she could have sworn that the door had come closer, significantly closer. New waves of fear were eating away at her valor. Again she closed her eyes to blend out all of her surroundings.
When she opened her eyes again, the door had come closer yet again, taunting her with even louder pounding. Twilight froze completely. She didn't dare close her eyes again. Her imagination started running wild, imagining all kinds of ghouls and goblins bursting through the door and leaping directly at Twilight. Intuitively, she closed her eyes again.
Now she was stuck with a similar problem. She refused to open her eyes again, but her mind kept telling her that she had to look the imminent danger right in the eye if she expected any hope for survival. Unable to take it any more, she opened her eyes.
The door was now directly in front of Twilight, the pounding louder than ever. In her mind she already made a jump backwards and fled to the safety of her home, but her body wouldn't budge. In fact, her body seemed to disobey her completely. With a mind of its own, her right arm lifted itself, and despite all of Twilight's silent pleas to stop, knocked on the door three times, immediately causing much excitement. She could only watch in awe as the door opened.
Without a layer of wood muffling the sound, she could now hear the pounding in all its ghastly glory. It was... soothing. Accompanied by vocals, a guitar, and some maracas, it didn't sound as fearsome as before; it sounded much more like some exotic reggae salsa mixture coming from a gramophone. Twilight now felt very silly.
“Twilight, what are you still doing here?” Mrs. Notes asked, bringing Twilight back to the here and now.
“I just wanted to know if Mr. Focal is here. I need to speak with him,” she replied, all the while trying to get a peek at what's going on, but Mrs. Notes managed to successfully block her view. Broad laughter, clamorous chatter, and loud dance music certainly hinted at something very strange going on inside the teachers' lounge.
“Mr. Focal? Here? No, he's way too stuck and prude to... What I mean is, he never attends these kind of events.”
Mrs. Notes was rudely interrupted by somepony shouting: “Who wants another maregarita?”
There was no possible way for Twilight to crane her neck enough to see past her teacher. She was unable to withhold her curiosity any longer. “What kind of events? What's going on in there? What's a maregarita?”
Mrs. Notes didn't answer right away. Instead another voice from inside yelled: “What? You don't think I have the guts to do it? I'll show you! I'll show all of you!”
“Go home, Twilight,” Mrs. Notes finally replied with the tone of authority only teachers could pick up from their years of experience.
“But what about... But I... But Mr. Focal... And then there's...”
Twilight's incoherent ramblings were stopped by a third voice booming into the hallway: “Oh Celestia! Guys, look! She's really gonna do it. She's really gonna do it!”
“Go home, Twilight,” Mrs. Notes repeated, before shutting the door in Twilight's face.
And just like that, her only lead, her only way to get some closure, was gone. Clueless by what other means she could get a hold of her fire magic teacher, Twilight was ready to obey and already turned to leave, when she was startled by the sudden appearance of a pony right in front of her.
“You want to go see Mr. Focal, right?” the pony said. “I think I can help you with that. Everypony always forgets about the janitor, but I see things, many things other ponies choose to ignore.” The janitor came closer and breached Twilight's comfort zone by practically shoving his right eye in her face to underline his point.
At first Twilight was hesitant to accept his help, but she knew better than to judge a pony based on his appearance. Or his weird behavior. Or his bad breath. Or the fact that he crept the living daylights out of her. “I... would be grateful for any help.”
The janitor smiled a wicked smile. ”I've been watching when he leaves for home and I can tell you, he always left to the north.”
“And then?”
“I don't know. I lose him behind that big apartment building.”
Twilight wasn't too sure what to respond to that. “Thanks, I guess. I should...”
“You know, I am at strife with Mr. Focal myself.” He started to digress. “Whenever one of his classes was over, he would dust off and polish the desks, like he was telling me what a lousy job I was doing. But I didn't let him get away with that. Oh no. One day, when I knew he had to leave late, I waited for him in front of the school. He didn't suspect a thing. I just stepped in front of him and punched him...” Twilight jumped at the sound of his front hooves forcefully bumping into each other. “...right on the nose!”
“Well... that's... I don't want to keep you any longer and I really should head home now.”
After her hasty apology, Twilight practically raced home. She had enough of her crazed school on this crazed day, and her quota for unexpected, unpleasant encounters was met for today. In fact, those encounters exceeded her quota; fate owed her a pleasant one for a change.
* * *
“Here it is, Mom and Dad. I hope you're not too disappointed about... No!”
Twilight began anew: “Here is my report card. You'll notice most of it are A's. The thing about the others is... That's no good either!”
She continued wearing down the lawn her father had tended so carefully by walking in circles in front of her house. While she had been walking home, the sun had completely set, which left Equestria in the hooves of the Mare in the Moon. For the entirety of her walk she had been pondering over the important matter of how to confess to her parents about the report card. She still hadn't come any further.
“Maybe I could just drop it in front of them and run to my room. I'm sure I'll have the door locked before they know what's going on.” She carefully considered this option for a moment before dismissing it. “Come on, Twilight, you're better than this. You can face the consequences of your actions.
“Maybe I shouldn't say anything, and just wait for them to say something to me. It probably won't be that bad. I'm sure their judgment will be firm but fair.”
With a strategy ready to employ, she was about to open the door, when a pony from the inside did the favor for her.
“I thought I heard somepony outside.”
“Shiny!” Twilight's combination of a hug and a tackle sent her brother straight to the ground before he was able to return the embrace and give his little sister a playful noogie.
“What are you doing here?” Twilight asked as she climbed down from her brother.
With one swift jumping motion, Shining Armor picked himself up. “I finally got two weeks off from guard duty. So I thought I'd use those two weeks to spend some time with my favorite sister, now that your school year has ended.”
“I'm your only sister.”
“Exactly! That's how you know I'm telling the truth.”
Twilight's giggling gave Shining a chance to ask a question of his own: “Say, Twily, you're home pretty late. Did anything happen at school?”
“Yes,” she hesitantly admitted.
“Anything embarrassing, or violent, or something you can talk about?”
“Something embarrassing,” she replied, her cheeks glowing a bright red.
“Alright, I got you covered."
“Mom! Dad! Twily's home!” Shining loudly announced.
“She's very late. Did anything happen to her?” their father, Night Light, shouted back from the living room.
“When they got their report cards, her friend Moondancer was pretty disappointed and asked her for some studying advice. So she stayed over at her place until the sun was setting. Then she came home.”
“Alright then,” Night Light said, dropping the conversation.
“Why did you make all that up?” Twilight asked her brother.
“You just told me this was about something embarrassing, and I know how terrible you are at lying. Plus, as a guard I have to train to perceive a situation and act accordingly in a fraction of a second. Also, practicing to lie to superiors might come in handy one day. Always has in the past.” Shining Armor started walking towards the living room, only to stop and look back at his little sister. “You coming?”
“Thanks, BBBFF,” Twilight replied before following him.
Night Light greeted them with a friendly smile, putting down his newspaper onto the small table beside his armchair. Their mother, Twilight Velvet, also entered through the dining room, comfortably resting her arms on the chair's backrest, standing right behind her husband.
“So,” Night Light began, “how was school, sweetie?”
“Fine,” Twilight answered.
“Did anything interesting happen?”
“Well, we got our report cards.”
“Figures on the last day of school.”
For quite some time an awkward silence filled the room.
“Can we see it?” Night Light asked with a sly dad-smile typical for such rhetorical questions.
Without another word, Twilight magically opened her saddle bag and timidly levitated the paper in question towards her parents.
As they looked she closed her eyes. She had decided to handle the situation like a grown-up. She had decided to silently await her fate and accept whatever punishment her parents deemed appropriate. But by Celestia's almighty, sun-raising horn there was no way she could look them in the eye doing so. Their disappointed faces would just be too much. Seeing them feeling the shame of having a daughter that let them down, their patronizing looks telling her they would have expected better of her, their indecisiveness on what to do with such a...
“That's great!” her father proudly announced.
“What!?” Twilight shouted in disbelief.
“You never cease to amaze us.”
“We're so proud of you, sweetie,” her mother added.
“But, but, but, but, but, but...” Twilight tried to state her defense.
“Wow!” her father continued. “I mean these amount of A's must be a school record. I don't believe that there has ever been a pony smarter than you!”
“Didn't one of you look at my fire magic grade? It's a disaster!”
Night Light took another brief glimpse before replying: “A B+? There's nothing wrong with that.”
Twilight felt fury rise up from deep within her. “But a B+ is not an A! It's a bad grade!”
“No, sweetie,” Twilight Velvet said, “A B actually means you've done good. In fact the plus means that you've done better than good.”
Twilight's anger had reached a point where she would adopt a tone of voice she would otherwise consider inappropriate when talking to her parents. “Good!? You consider this good!? All I can see is a piece of paper mocking me, telling me in writing that I'm just not good enough!”
Her parents exchanged a quizzical look, before her father turned his head back to her and asked: “Good enough for what? You've always been an excellent daughter and an excellent student. Isn't it possible you're making a mountain out of a molehill?”
“A mountain out of a molehill!” Twilight screamed. Her rage had gotten to a point, where she was no longer able to form any coherent sentences. She simply grabbed the report card with her magic and ran upstairs to her room, loudly slamming the door behind her.
Night Light and Twilight Velvet exchanged the same quizzical glimpse they had moments before. “Did we say anything wrong?” Night Light asked his son.
“I don't think so,” Shining replied. “Still, I better go talk to her. I think she's too upset to talk with either one of you.”
“Thanks, son.” And as Shining climbed the stairs, Night Light added: “You know we're proud of you too.”
Shining stopped and turned around. “I know, dad.” Then he vanished up the stairs.
* * *
“Oh, what am I going to do, Spike?” Twilight asked the baby dragon she was sharing a room with. As he was still only learning his first words, his answer consisted of gleeful sucking on his tail, one of his favorite reactions whenever Twilight was asking him questions.
“Maybe I should really just give it a rest, pretend like all of this never happened. I mean what else can I do? I can't just magically change the grade on my report card. That would be wrong, and difficult, and pointless, since the initial grade would still be stored in the school's archives. And changing the grade in the school's archives would be downright criminal! The only other option would be to talk to Mr. Focal. But I still have no idea how, and otherwise I would have to wait all summer until school starts again.” Twilight dropped herself backwards onto her bed. “I guess there is no way I can win this, is there, Spike?” The dragon's response consisted of a couple of giggling noises, most likely stemming from the taste of his tail.
A knock came at the door. Twilight had no plans to answer it. Instead, she turned around and hid her head under the pillow. But the knock was persistent, treacherous even. After three unsuccessful attempts to gain her attention, it fiendishly started to speak in the voice of her brother. “Twily, can I talk to you?”
She sighed in resignation, head reappearing from under her pillow. “It's open.”
Shining sat down on the bed beside her, his mouth opening numerous times, but closing again without saying a word. It was painfully obvious he had no idea how to begin their talk. Eventually, he settled with: “You know a B+ isn't a bad grade, right?”
“I know, I guess,” Twilight admitted. “It's just, when I see that B+, I know that I could have done better. I could have shown more effort and earned an A. And because of that, I've let down Princess Celestia.”
“Twily, Princess Celestia doesn't want you to be perfect. Of course you're gonna make mistakes every once in a while. All ponies do. And you'll find it's not that bad, they're usually valuable experiences we can learn and grow from. So a 'bad grade', whatever you think that is, isn't all that bad. Besides, you don't need a grade to tell you how smart and industrious you are, you already know. Hey, I myself rarely got A's and you still think I'm smart and industrious, no need to validate that right now,” he joked with a grin that was infectious.
“But I didn't learn anything from this. I've tried to talk to Mr. Focal about what I did wrong, but I...”
“Hold up, hold up,” Shining interrupted. “Are you telling me Mr. Focal gave you that B+?”
“Um, yes?”
“That's just... I mean of course he would give you a B+! That guy's just a huge jerk!”
Twilight gasped at the inappropriate way her brother talked about a teacher, to which the latter responded with a roll of his eyes.
“Come on, you can't seriously still cling to the childish idea that all of your teachers are infallible, omniscient demigods that only have your best interest in mind. Okay, one of them is. But at least one of them is a huge jerk, I can personally account for that. Do you wanna hear what he once did to my friend Fire Cracker?”
Twilight knew that at this point she didn't really have a choice in the matter. Her brother probably wouldn't even wait for her answer.
“So this one day, Fire Cracker plays this harmless prank on one of our classmates where he sneaks up from behind and pretends that his head is on fire. Unfortunately, our class mate drops the flask he was holding and Mr. Focal orders him to pick up the shards and clean up the floor. So far, so good. But you wanna know what else he did?”
Twilight rolled her eyes at this barrage of rhetoric questions.
Shining continued, not noticing: “Mr. Focal just took away Fire Cracker's lunch money, claiming that it was payback for the cost of the broken flask. We went to the headmaster, but he didn't believe us. So the next day we went to his house and...”
Twilight's ears perked up. “Wait a second. You know where Mr. Focal lives?”
Shining turned his head, baffled by the sudden interruption. “Yeah, he lives on 213 Maple Drive. So anyway, the next day we went over to his house for a little payback of our own. So we took out all the eggs and the toilet paper and started to... Why am I telling you this?”
Twilight was lost in thought, estimating how much time it would take to run to Maple Drive and back. Her brother, firmly grabbing both her shoulders, brought her back to reality.
“Twilight, you can't tell anypony about this. Especially not mom and dad. And especially not my superiors. Especially especially not Sergeant Howler. Promise me you won't tell Sergeant Howler.” By the end Shining had started to shake his little sister.
“I promise I won't tell anypony,” Twilight replied, begging for the shaking to stop.
Panic subsiding, her brother granted that wish. “Thanks, Twily. So is everything alright now?”
“Yeah, everything's alright.”
“Good. Glad I could help. So, see you around I guess?” he bid farewell, before he left the room as quickly as possible.
And there her brother said Twilight couldn't lie. Of course not everything was alright. Yet. But she would make sure that it soon would be.
* * *
If a Royal Guard would have seen the lavender blur scurrying through Maple Drive, he would have likely recognized it as a common criminal. And he would have been kind of right about it too. Although a teenager breaking her curfew might have been petty, insignificant, and technically neither illegal nor criminal, it was certainly one thing: common.
Twilight was very disgruntled by the complete lack of lighting in the street. Her illumination spell could only do so much, and in the darkness of the night she could still see nothing more than her hooves in front of her face. Whenever she wanted to know what street number she was currently at, she had to put her horn right next to the mailbox.
She ended up overshooting her target by two houses. At least going back to number 213 proved to indeed be the house of somepony named Focal. Tuckered and stressed out, Twilight rang the door bell without another thought.
What followed from the inside was a long, muffled, adorned with several swearwords rant, a couple of lights being turned on and off, and finally the sound of angry hoofsteps moving towards the door. After a minute or so, one Mr. Focal, wearing a night cap and his trademark glasses, opened the door.
“You have some nerve ringing me out of bed at this time of...” He paused upon recognizing the face of his student. “Ms. Sparkle? What are you doing here? You have some nerve ringing me out of bed at this time of night!”
“I'm sorry for the disturbance, Mr. Focal, but I need to talk to you and it's really urgent.”
“And this couldn't wait until morning?”
“No, it couldn't. If I can't ask you now, I'm sure I wouldn't be able to sleep all night.”
At this Mr. Focal shot an angry glare. “I kind of know the feeling. So, what is it you want to talk to me about?”
Twilight's eagerness faltered a little bit. “There's something I don't understand and I hoped you could give me the answer. It's about my report card. I just have to know why you gave me a B+. What did I do wrong?”
Mr. Focal didn't look angry, he looked more surprised than anything by this bizarre conversation. Not knowing what to make of it, he came to the conclusion that this had to be Twilight's version of a prank on him, Celestia knew it wasn't the first time a student of his pulled one. Granted, it wasn't a very funny one, but he already knew that she wasn't a particularly funny personality, considering the way she acted in school.
“Go home, Twilight,” he said in that familiar teacher-tone, about to close the door.
“Please, Mr. Focal! I have to know what I could have done better. Didn't I study enough? Did I botch a spell in class without noticing it? Did I forget an assignment? Did I speak too quiet? Or too loud?” Twilight threw herself at his feet. She made no effort to hide that she was close to tears. The prospect of having her answers taken from her at the last minute was unbearable.
Mr. Focal seemed to fold. Like many other teachers, he had an impeccable record of demonstrating a stone-cold exterior that could never be broken, but Twilight wished to believe that at that very moment she managed to touch his heart with her earnest plea. Although it was unclear whether he had shown any softness of heart to begin with, his following actions showed that he was most likely a pony who would never admit to such a thing.
“You're not going to let me sleep unless I tell you, are you?”
Twilight nodded silently.
“Then I guess I don't really have a choice, do I?” Mr. Focal gestured for Twilight to stand up and she did. “Ms. Sparkle, you are an excellent student and you show much future prospect in the field of magic, but I felt that you haven't fully understood the fundamental concepts that make up fire magic just yet.”
Twilight gave his words some thought, but couldn't really make heads or tails of them. “I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean.”
“It means, that you can still get better at fire magic by simply looking at the basics once again before training any further. Is that clear?”
She nodded.
“If you would excuse me then, I would like to go back to bed and still catch a couple of hours of sleep.”
After a thank-you and a good-bye, the door was closed and Twilight made her way towards her home through the night's darkness.
* * *
Twilight had far from a good night's sleep, for that it had been way too short, but eagerness and determination were stimulants that helped her start the day wide awake.
Sneaking back into her room had been surprisingly easy, as it tended to be much harder than the sneaking out part. Just a tiny sound muffling spell cast on her hooves, and within a minute she had reached her room completely unnoticed.
At breakfast, Twilight practically gulped down the entire table as a whole. Usually this would have implicated some questioning by her parents, maybe even some rebuke, but after her little temper tantrum the previous evening, the entire family was happy to simply see her cheerful and energetic again.
Twilight was indeed feeling much better than she had the previous day. There was still that demeaning B+ hanging over her head, and over her academic career, but now she knew what she had to do. She had a goal to pursue and maybe, just maybe, if she showed her teacher how serious she took her studies and how much she improved herself, maybe even that haunting grade could be eradicated.
After quickly excusing herself from the breakfast table, she went straight to her room, opened her textbook and dove right into it. With her nose deeply buried in her book, time flew by like a Wonderbolt. One after another she cast every spell in the book. Smoke spells, incinerating spells, none of them proved even remotely a challenge; she could do them all blindfolded (which would have been more reckless than impressive, given that she didn't need her eyes to cast spells anyway).
Maybe there was something else she was missing. Maybe she didn't fully understand what Mr. Focal was trying to tell her. Or maybe she needed an entirely new perspective on the whole subject. Fire magic was the natural magic of dragons; they could probably tell her much more about it than any unicorn could. Unfortunately, the only dragon she knew was downstairs, playing with building blocks under the watchful eyes of her mother. And the only flames that he ever spouted were little accidents.
Twilight Velvet's voice, informing her that lunch was ready, jolted Twilight out of her daydreams. She quickly finished the last ten pages, before walking down the stairs and taking a seat.
Lunch wasn't eaten as hastily, but was just as taciturn as breakfast. Apart from the occasional question whether she was enjoying her meal and whether everything was alright, Twilight kept to herself. She was too busy working up a visual presentation, in which she would display her knowledge and prowess to Mr. Focal. As soon as lunch was over and she placed her dishes in the sink, she ran upstairs, packed everything she needed and was out the door.
In the daylight Maple Drive looked much different, especially much less hostile, although that impression might have derived from Twilight having to sneak around and dart from house to house the last time around. Ultimately, she found number 213 once more, and with a couple of butterflies in her stomach, rang the doorbell. Once again Mr. Focal opened the door, this time a little less aggravated and much more curious.
“Ms. Sparkle, what can I help you with this time?”
“I'm sorry to bother you again, but I have made a small presentation on fire magic, and would like to showcase it.”
Now at this point, he had the possibility to simply refuse her request and close the door on her, but he didn't. She never found out if he listened for the sheer fun of it, maybe even some hidden sadistic pleasure, or if he displayed genuine interest. The fact of the matter was, she had a chance to fully display her knowledge on fire magic, and she'd be darned if she wasn't going to use it.
“Please, go ahead,” Mr. Focal invited.
Twilight once cleared her throat and then began.
She started chronologically, with the invention of fire in prehistoric times, the subsequent taming by unicorns and the first primitive spells crafted from it, and its major impact on civilization for ponies of any kind. Next, she listed the contributions to the field by various magicians, tinkerers, and historians, with special emphasis on the workings of Star Swirl the Bearded; not because of the magnitude or importance of his work, but because of the admiration she had for who she considered the greatest mind among all unicorns. After the historic overview, she finished with the modern applications of fire magic and the various industries which profited from it.
Throughout the presentation, to underline her point and to showcase her practical understanding, she performed some of the different spells she was referring to. For example, when talking about the taming of fire, she cast the first spell known to pony historians: the ignition of a dry branch which she had brought along in her saddlebag.
The entire time Mr. Focal seemed to nod his approval, which further elevated Twilight's level of confidence. All in all, she was very proud how well she handled herself, especially the instant incineration spell, where she managed to turn the piece of paper into ashes without as much as a flicker of fire. She finished by thanking her one pony audience and with the obligatory: “Are there any questions?”
“I indeed have a question,” came Mr. Focal's quick response.
“Go right ahead, please.”
His face, which had looked so complaisant before, suddenly turned very stern. “Ms. Sparkle, what is it exactly that you want from me?”
That hasn't been one she was exactly prepared for. “I don't know,” Twilight tried to stall the question.
“I do not believe you. You've gone to great length to give this little discourse of yours, which I admit was more than decent, and I'm almost certain that there was some purpose behind it.”
Twilight felt caught red-hooved. It was no use, she would have to speak her true thoughts on the matter. “Well, I was hoping that by showing you my knowledge and how seriously I took my studies, you might reconsider the B+ you gave me and maybe change it into an A.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Ms. Sparkle, are you in good earnest questioning my authority and my decisions?”
“No!” She was shocked, not at the sudden accusation, but the fact that he had hit the mark. Twilight had indeed questioned a teacher's decision from the very beginning and she was ashamed of herself. “I mean, I did, but I didn't mean to. I would never willingly do such a thing.”
Mr. Focal let it slide and instead focused on what he really wanted to say. “You are a very bright student, Ms. Sparkle, and you also present yourself well in class. Still, I stand by my decision that the grade that best depicts your achievement in the past year is a B+. A lecture showcasing the knowledge and skills you should have already learned months ago is neither going to impress me nor change my stand on the matter.
“Now, unless there is anything else, I would like to go inside.”
Twilight didn't need to speak, her head lowered in resignation was enough of an answer. As soon as the door closed she turned around to beat a very depressing retreat to her room. The words her teacher had told her kept repeating in her head, further dampening her mood. That is until she had an idea.
* * *
Vari Focal turned off the faucet. The fragrant steam filled his nostrils, already taking its relaxing effect. He gingerly checked the water temperature with his hoof. It was perfect. Slowly, he lowered himself into his bathtub and instantly felt his tense muscles unbend. Within seconds the stress and strain of ten months worth of school teaching washed away. Unfortunately, for the events of the day to do the same, it would take much longer.
Everything had gone wrong. It seemed like every tiny neglected lapse conspired against him to unravel its dire consequences. Banging his toe into the kitchen table, cutting his hoof on a shattered bowl, you name it. Several cuts and bruises stood witness for the day's physical abuse.
And this didn't even cover the verbal abuse. Everypony seemed to have some sort of unfinished business with him, partly dating back several months: The mailmare, the milkmare, some out of town mortician, demanding he should cover the funeral of his cousin Temple Arms, of whom he had never heard before. He lost count of how many times he'd been yelled at, he only remembered that twice it hadn't been in a language he could understand.
The high point of his day, the small break in his series of mishaps, had been the bothersome visit of one of his students, exasperated enough about a highly trivial report card to bore him to death with an hour-long presentation. The low point had been... he didn't even want to think about it.
Luckily, he didn't have to. The scented bath did wonders for his attempts at letting the day fade away. The troubles flew away like the soap bubbles he blew off after scooping them up with his hooves. By the time he got out of the bathtub, it was almost like Vari Focal was born a new stallion.
He decided the best way to wrap up this worst of all days was in the comfort of his favorite armchair with a good book in his lap. He prepared by starting to brew a nice pot of tea and grabbing a blanket and some cushions from his cabinet along with the copy of Jane Meyre he had left on his nightstand.
He carefully arranged the cushions onto his chair so that they would provide support from every direction, while placing the blanket at its foot in a way that, once he'd sit down, all he had to do was unroll it to be completely tucked in. By the time he was done, the tea was ready.
Placing book, teapot, and cup and coaster within comfortable reach on his side table, he started to put out all candles, which had thus far replaced the light of the sunken sun, safe for the ones in the chandelier above the chair, which would provide him with exactly the right amount of light needed for burying himself in a book.
All preparations set, he had to do no more than sit down, wrap himself up in his blanket and feel like sitting on cloud nine. His mind already filling with gleeful anticipation, he levitated the book and the cup of tea over, examining the book cover while taking a small, careful sip. Then he turned the first page.
The frantically repeated pressing of his door bell annihilated the small heap of coziness he had so carefully erected. He lay down his book, tossed his blanket aside, and got up.
“Enough already! I heard you. Keep your ears flat,” he yelled at the sudden intruder, as he stomped towards his front entrance.
He opened the door to a gargantuan fireball. Beneath it, attached by her horn, stood a beaming Twilight Sparkle. A shriek escaped his lips.
“What in the name of Celestia's life-giving sun is this!?” Mr. Focal squealed once he regained his ability to speak.
“It's the nuclear fusion spell I've been practicing,” Twilight explained. “After a small igniting spark, the spell sucks in particles from the air around it and fuses them together, radiating heat and light in the process.”
“That's not what I meant!” Mr. Vocal yelled in a tone that was still at least an octave higher than his usual speaking voice. “I meant what is a nuclear fusion spell doing on my front lawn?”
“It's because I wanted to show it to you. Are you impressed?”
“Am I what!?” All of this kept getting more and more confusing and surreal to him.
“Are you impressed?” Twilight repeated. “When I held my presentation, you said that I was hardly going to impress you with spells I should have learned months ago. So I spent the rest of the day in the library looking for a more advanced spell I could handle which was sure to impress you, and once I found one I kept practicing and practicing until I had it mastered, so that I could walk over hear with the spell in progress and show it to you, hoping that you would be impressed.”
“That... that's what this all about? That's why you come here with a ball of flame twice the size of an adult pony?” Mr. Focal was unable to take his eyes off the fireball which was looming dangerously close to his roof.
“Yes,” was Twilight's simple, matter-of-fact response. “So, are you impressed? Are you?”
“Sure!” he screamed in another fit of panic. “I am impressed! I am whatever you want me to be as long as you extinguish it!”
“Extinguish it?” This demand took Twilight by surprise. “What do you mean by 'extinguish it'?”
“I mean extinguish it! Douse it, drown it, quench it, choke it, stifle it, suffocate it, out it, trample it, smother it, but first and foremost, get rid of it!”
“Oh.” Twilight finally understood, but already had to admit the shameful truth: “I don't know how.”
“Come again?”
“I don't know how. I just read up on how to cast and control the spell, I didn't get far enough to know how to dispel it.”
Mr. Focal couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Are you out of your mind!? What kind of maniac would create a fireball the size of a carriage without knowing how to put it out without burning down half of Canterlot in the process.”
“Hey,” Twilight defended herself. “I'm not a maniac! When I cast the spell it was very small, only the size of a hoof. But apparently it grew bigger and bigger while I walked over here, something the book had failed to mention.”
Mr. Focal blinked sceptically. He had never heard of anything like it with regards to a nuclear fusion spell. But that was beside the point. To properly fix this, he tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. “Never mind how it got that big, the important thing is to extinguish it once and for all. I'd want to help, but meddling with your spell at this point could have unforeseen consequences, causing it to explode. You have to do this on your own. Please, Ms. Sparkle, concentrate and think of a way how to dispel it.
“But I don't know how!” Twilight cried with evident desperation in her voice.
Mr. Focal really wasn't in the mood to hold a motivational speech with his house and a lifetime of memories on the threshold of destruction, but no matter how he looked at it, there was just no helping it. “That doesn't matter right now. If anypony can do it, it's you. You were admitted to Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns acing the entrance exam. You have become Princess Celestia's personal student. You have managed to set a straight A record for years. Twilight Sparkle, I know that if you really set you mind to it you can do anything. I'm sure you can do it.”
Twilight wiped a tear from her eye. The speech hit home, giving her the valor she needed to really go at it and giving extinguishing the flame her best shot. She focused her entire magic as hard as she could and shot it up her horn.
But it was too late. The fireball had reached a size that allowed it to reach the tip of Mr. Focal's roof, causing it to jump from Twilight's horn onto the house and happily munch on the wooden contents underneath.
* * *
The Canterlot Weather Brigade had been called immediately, and swiftly got to work. As soon as a cloud chain was formed, the stored rainclouds were passed around towards the seat of fire, where they poured down until the empty, now regular cloud was stowed away by the remaining members of the Weather Brigade. Within less than an hour the fire was under control and the flames died down soon afterwards. But the quick success wasn't simply due to the experience of Canterlot's firefighters, it was also thanks to the help of one attentive student of Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns.
As soon as the fire had broken out, Twilight had taken all precautionary measures she could think of to ensure the flames wouldn't spread any further. First of all, she started to dig out trenches on all sides of the house, disabling the fire from spreading along the lines of grass. Next, she tried to safely remove all flammable material from inside the house that was still in her reach. Lastly, she focused her magic to redirect the airflow upwards as best as she could, that way withdrawing at least some of the oxygen fueling the flames.
Her actions as a whole led to both, scolding and praise by the Weather Brigade. Scolding for the reckless behavior on her part which had started the fire in the first place, and praise for her prudent reaction that might have saved hundreds of houses.
Of course there was one house her actions didn't save, one that her actions couldn't have saved no matter how hard she had tried. That house was the one belonging to her teacher Mr. Focal.
Once he had seen his home well ablaze, Mr. Focal froze up, completely unable to do anything except watch in bewildered consternation. That same look remained on his face for the entirety of the fire run, and even once the flames were put out.
Once the Weather Brigade let her go, Twilight knew the first thing she had to do was apologize to Mr. Focal. But seeing him sitting on the street, back turned to what once was his house, and his head lowered in defeat, she realized that this would be much harder than she expected. Twilight almost felt too ashamed to approach him, but she knew she would feel even more ashamed if she wouldn't. She didn't dare to step into his field of vision and instead addressed him from behind.
“I'm sorry,” was all she managed to utter.
Mr. Focal lifted his head but didn't turn around. “You're sorry? You're sorry!? You're sorry!? Sure, I just witnessed twenty years worth of memories dissolve into nothingness, all that's left of them now ashen remains, I don't even have a roof over my head, but everything's gonna be just dandy, because luckily you are sorry.
“You know this house has survived several dozen toilet paper attacks, even more eggings and one very inappropriate prank involving a wrecking ball, but you've really done it! You've done what so many others have failed to do! You really...”
He turned around. To his surprise, behind him wasn't the fire-spitting demon he had envisioned in his head, but merely a little filly devastated by her regret for her own unintentional havoc. The creature behind wasn't something he could rant at without respite, it wasn't something he could load upon all his bottled-up anger and frustration. No, this was a creature who's consciousness already did a tremendous job at reproaching her; she didn't need Mr. Focal to add insult to injury. But still, a fistful of rage didn't vanish into thin air this quickly.
After turning around, he took off his glasses and started to casually play around with the frame, occasionally wiping the glass with his hoof. “Do you want to know something, the real reason why you only got a B+ in my class?” Unbeknownst to him, Twilight looked up and perked her ears up at what he had to say.
“It was on your first day of my class, and when you came in I already saw that overzeal in your eyes, that desire deeply etched in your soul to learn everything there is about fire magic, which inevitably would lead to carelessness, recklessness, and destruction.
“Fire magic isn't something to be taken lightly, it is quite literally playing with fire, and unless it isn't done with utmost care some ponies will get their hooves burned. I knew that you didn't have the watchfulness that it took to master the art of fire magic. I could already see a thing like this coming the very moment you entered my class room. That's why at that moment I had already decided a student like you could never get an A from me, no matter what you did.
“It's ponies like you who with their lack of discipline, with their shortage of respect for authority cause all of this world's problems. Your kind is responsible for pain and agony, the obliteration of entire tracts of land. Your kind sows chaos and destruction wherever they go. To be honest, Ms. Sparkle, I disdain ponies like you and wish you would leave the spell casting to more disciplined magicians, the ones smart enough to think of all the possible consequences before casting a spell.”
As soon as his lecture was up, he turned around to face Twilight one last time. “And now if you'd excuse me, I'd like to retreat into the smoldering remains that used to be my house.”
He closed the door, which had miraculously survived the fire despite having been its origin, leaving behind one deeply saddened student of his.
* * *
Twilight Velvet knocked on her daughter’s door. “Twilight? Sweetie? Are you sure you don't want to come down for lunch? I mean you've already missed breakfast. It can't be healthy to go this long without food.”
She was seriously worried about her daughter's well being. Last night a member of the Canterlot Weather Brigade had escorted her daughter home and explained the events of the evening to them, including Twilight's involvement, both the positive and the negative part.
Young Twilight had just stood there, leaving the explanations to her pegasus escort, eventually heading up to her room wordlessly. She hadn't come out ever since.
“Alright, sweetie. You just come down whenever you feel like it. I'll try to keep your meal warm until then.” Twilight Velvet knew that pestering her daughter would do more harm than good. When Twilight Sparkle was like this, all they could do about it was wait it out.
“She still hasn't come out, has she?” Shining Armor asked, as he joined his mother at the bottom of the stairs.
“No. She didn't even reply to me.”
“How are we supposed to help her if she doesn't even tell us what's wrong? Sometimes I just don't get her.”
His mother chuckled involuntarily.
“What's so funny?” Shining asked with genuine confusion.
“Nothing. Just when you said that, you sounded exactly like your father. When you were still a little colt and got yourself in trouble, he would always get worked up about some silly trifle and say:” She tried to imitate her husband's much deeper voice as best she could. “'He's such a bright young boy, with a promising future ahead of him. Why can't he behave himself. Sometimes I just don't get him.'”
They both shared a small giggle. But of course they still had the Twilight-problem to take care of.
“I think I'll give it another shot. Maybe she'll listen to her bigger brother,” Shining offered.
“Good luck with that. In the meantime I'll be serving lunch,” Twilight Velvet replied as she left for the kitchen.
Following up on his words, Shining ascended the stairs and knocked on his sister's door. “Twily, won't you please come down to dinner?”
There was no response, so he tried again. “Please, Twily, come down to dinner. We're all worried about you.”
More silence. “At least talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. Please. I really want to help you, I really do.” Still no word from the inside.
“This is ridiculous,” Shining said to himself.
“Twily, I'm coming in, whether you like it or not!” he loudly announced as he took matters into his own hooves. With his magic, he grabbed a yardstick from the toolbox and swept it through the gap underneath the door, knocking over the chair that had been blocking the room from the inside. He tore open the door, put the chair back to where it belonged and carefully shut it again.
From her bed, Twilight looked at the intruder with bafflement, fresh tears forming in her eyes. Shining didn't say anything. Instead, he walked over to his sister's side, sat down, and clasped her in his arms.
There was no stopping the waterworks. With the shame that came from showing herself at her most vulnerable, even if it was to her brother, the most caring, most understanding pony in the world, Twilight couldn't help herself. She cried her eyes out, until her brother's chest was soaked.
Shining comforted his sister by affectionately stroking her mane, and rested his head atop hers, but that couldn't stop the tears from flowing. She needed her time to let it all out, once and for all.
Once Twilight had calmed herself down, she blew her nose and started talking. She told him everything, how persistent doubts kept creeping into her mind that she just wasn't good enough to be Princess Celestia's student, that the moment a single crack appeared behind her flawless, brilliant exterior everything would collapse, leaving her broken, vulnerable, and without a teacher.
She told him how her grade card seemed to be that crack she had feared for so long, how all she could do was cling to the hope that somewhere along the way somepony had made a mistake. How when she tried to fix it, she just made everything worse, delivering conclusive evidence that she was indeed just not up to the task.
She told him about the conversation she had with Mr. Focal afterwards, his accusation and how much they stung, because every word seemed to be true, how after hearing this she just wasn't able to face anypony anymore: not him, not their mother, not their father.
Shining Armor listened carefully, making sure to catch every word. Once Twilight was done, he hooved her another handkerchief and thought of an appropriate response.
“Twilight,” he began, “I can't tell you that I know what it's like to be Princess Celestia's personal student. I can't even tell you that you are deserving to be her student. I mean I could tell you, but you'd probably think that I'm only saying that because I'm your brother, and maybe you would be right. But there's one thing I can tell you: You're definitely not a failure.
“I keep telling you that everypony makes mistakes, most of us many more than you do. I guess that's why it always hits so close to home when something does go wrong. You're just not used to it. But a mistake can't let you lose focus of the good things you did, of all the things you did right. And there's always a way to fix any errors, even if those errors are burning down a house.” Twilight looked up at him, but Shining could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn't convinced.
“You should have listened to what the firefighter had to say about you. He commended you on and on, how brave you were, how your immediate actions have probably saved the day. He said if all arsonists...” He cringed. He shouldn't have used that word. “He said that if all citizens were as cautious and sensible as you, there wouldn't even be the need for firefighters.
“And that's not all. Whenever I talk to your teachers, or our neighbors, or your classmates, they all have nothing but praise for you. They might only say this behind your back, because they're afraid to embarrass you, but whenever we talk about you they rave about your kindness and your helpfulness, and how glad they are to have somepony like you around.”
Twilight's doubts started to sway the other way. “But what about Mr. Focal's words?”
Shining's glare became icy. “I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that he said those words because he had just lost his house, but he had absolutely no right to talk to you that way. Especially since everything he said was just a load of hooey. I mean seriously, when you think about the great unicorns of history you only remember them for their good deeds, their wisdom, their bravery, the spells they invented. But how many unicorns can you name that really went around ravaging the country? Well, maybe Nightmare Moon, but that's just an old mare's tale.
“No, you're nothing like Nightmare Moon. If I had to pick somepony, I'd say you're much more like Starswirl the Bearded.”
Twilight had to giggle at that. “You're just saying that because you're my brother.”
“Maybe I am. I guess only time will tell.”
“But what about Mr. Focal?” Twilight interjected. “His house is still burned down after all.”
“It's just a house, Twilight. His insurance will cover the damages, and if he doesn't have any, I'm sure Princess Celestia will pay for them instead. The important thing is that nopony got hurt. Except for two ponies that is.”
This filled Twilight with worry. “There were ponies who got hurt?”
Shining shot his sister a sagely smile. “Of course there were. You and Mr. Focal. But when I look at you, I get the feeling that you'll pull through somehow. And if you want to, we can always go to Mr. Focal and apologize, to make sure he's okay too.”
“I'd like that.” Twilight walked over to her brother and gave him a hug. She was smiling again. “Thanks, BBBFF.”
“Hey, that's what BBBFF's are for. Now, how about we go down to lunch and afterwards we bake Mr. Focal a cake. Apologies are always better when cake is involved.”
“But I don't think we have the ingredients to bake a cake,” Twilight noted as they went down the stairs.
“No problem. We can always go to the store to pick something up. And maybe, if he isn't as willing to make up as we are, we should buy a couple more eggs. Just in case.”
