Trotswold Boarding School

You peel your eyes open as the thin slither of light makes its way into your dorm. You prop yourself on an elbow and look over at Vinyl, who is still asleep. You reach onto the ground and search for your phone. You lock your fingers around what you can only presume to be a phone and lift it to your face. You tap a button on the side of the phone and the blinding light that emanates from the phone forces you to shield your eyes.

7:20… School starts at 8:30.

You swing your legs over the side of your bed and rub your face with your left hand. You run through your school schedule and get dressed by 7:30.

I still need to get that present for the party… What was her name… Dashie?

You sit back down on your bed and hear Vinyl yawn. She flings the bed covers off and clambers out of bed. She stares at you for a few seconds.

Oh.

You avert your gaze and give her some privacy. The light flicks on after a few minutes and Vinyl is sat on her bed.

“Vinyl, is there anywhere to go shopping around here?” You ask. “I still need to get a present for Dashie’s birthday tomorrow.”

Vinyl smiles. “Yeah, you can go down to town, it’s only a 10 minute walk, or you could go to the mall.”

You nod. “Is there anything that she might like?”

“Well, she’s a huge fan of the Wonderbolts.”

Where have I heard that name before…

“Would they be the same Wonderbolts that did that world tour last year?”

Vinyl gives a ‘Mhm’ in response.

“Well… if you’re not busy after school, would you mind coming to town with me?” You ask, awkwardly.

“There’s a slight problem. I’m going to town with Tavy and Lyra.”

Your face droops.

“However, I’m sure Tavy wouldn’t mind if you tag along and I’m sure Lyra would like to meet you.”

Your face returns to a smile. Vinyl stands up and makes her way to the door.

“I’m going to grab some breakfast, you want some?”

“Sure, what’s there to eat?” You reply, standing.

“Toast. You don’t have to come with me, there’s a breakfast bar down the hall.”

You sit back down and she exits the room. It takes her about five minutes to return with a plate of toast and butter on the side. She levitates a plate onto your lap and you consume it within a matter of seconds. You place the plate to your side on the floor and lie back.

“So, what time should I meet you guys?” You inquire.

“4:30, at the reception area.” She replies.

Period 4. Chemistry.

You hastily walk towards your seat, apologising for being late. You slide the seat out and half expect it to be removed from your grip by that foul stench that you had the honour of being next to. Applejack and Clean Slate exchange ‘Hellos’ with you. As the lesson drags on, you begin to feel more confident in yourself.

“Excuse me… will you go with me to the party tomorrow?” You ask, shakily.

Applejack turns her head, slightly confused.

“Dashie’s party? Ah’m already going.” She replies, with a smile.

“I mean… Discord.” You correct yourself.

He looks up as he hears the use of his name and gives you a strange look.

“You want to go out with me?” She asks awkwardly.

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” you reply quickly. “What I meant is that I’m inviting you to Dashie’s party tomorrow night.”

Both Applejack and Clean Slate look up.

“Urmm, I really don’t think that that is a good idea.” Clean Slate mumbles, trying to keep Discord from hearing.

“I heard that.” Discord hissed in response.

“Honestly, Ah have to agree with Clean on this one.” Applejack replies.

“I mean, Discord has never done anything nice to anyone, EVER.” Clean adds.

Discords face has turned red with anger. You give Discord a reassuring smile to Discord.

“I’m sure. Discord, please come tomorrow night.”

“Why are you even asking me.” His voice is sour.

“I’m asking you… because…” You take a deep breath. “Friendship Is Magic.”

Or I just feel bad for you. Either way.

The entire table falls silent. Discord breaks into a smile. He snaps his fingers and appears behind Applejack and Clean Slate in a suit, monocle and a top hat.

He puts on a upper class English accent. “Why, I would be delight to attend Rainbow Dash’s party tomorrow.”

He snaps his fingers again and turns into an orange and rolls across the table onto the seat next to you.

You stare at him.

What have I done?

4:31.

You push the door open to the reception area. The same strong smell of cheap perfume wafts around the room. The receptionist doesn’t even spare a passing glance as you walk to the three bodies sat at the fireplace, gossiping amongst each other. Vinyl is the first to hear your footsteps and turn to look at you. She smiles and Octavia, and who you can only presume to be Lyra, turn around.

“4:31, you’re late.” Octavia scolds in a joking tone.

“I’m fashionably late.” You reply with a smile.

“Hey, I’m Lyra, you must be new here.”

Lyra is surprisingly tall. A few inches taller than Vinyl. She had a horn tucked under a mass of powder blue hair.

You tell her your name and explain that you’re new here.

“I heard that you invited Discord to Rainbow Dash’s party.” Her tone is serious.

“Urm, well, I kinda felt bad for him.” You mumble in response.

“He’d better not ruin anything because we’re performing live music.” She raises her head slightly.

“Really Lyra, I think he made the right choice.” Octavia jumps in and tries to protect you.

“You know what, you’re right. He should come. I hope he destroys your cello.” Lyra retorts.

Octavias eyes widen.

“How dare you!”

Vinyl steps between the arguing pair.

“Girls, please.” Her voice is calm.

Both Octavia and Lyra take a step back, continuing to stare each other down. Once they’re both calm, Vinyl moves towards the door.

It takes about 15 minutes to get to town.

“So, the sports shop is down that road,” You points down the road to your right. “And we’ll be here, at Wubs and Strings.”

You nod in response.

“Meet us back herein about 30 minutes?”

“Sure.”

You wander down the road towards said sports shop. You look up and stare at a group of about 6, heading directly towards you.

“…and then I said, “Puh-lease, that isn't a hat, darling, that's a natural disaster that somehow landed atop your head!"

Laughter follows.

“Oh, you are a delight, Rarity, an absolute delight. You simply must attend Fathers art gallery opening this evening.”

“Oh, I'd love to, but I-“

“And let's not forget Mothers charity auction Saturday morning.”

“Well, that sounds wonderful, but I-“

“And of course there's a seat for you at my dinner party tomorrow night.”

“I'm flattered, really, but I-“

“Oh, but Rarity! Father may as well close down the whole gallery if you can't attend!”

“Mothers auction is for charity dear. For charity...”

“And my dinner party will be a disaster if you don't come.”

“...of course I'll be there.”

The group stops a few inches in front of you. The leader of the pack is a rather tall lad with blue hair and a moustache. He levitates a monocle slightly in front of his eyes. The lady next to him is a fair bit smaller than he is. Her hair is bright pink. Her entire body weight is being supported by the person with the monocle.

The rest of the people just looked snobby in their fancy hats. Rarity stood amongst the group.

“Oh look, it’s another one of those Trotswold commoners.” One of the group whispers.

“I’ve heard some awful things about the school.”

“Absolutely appalling.”

You can see Rarity twitch at the comments.

“Well, I’ve heard some incredible things about Trotswold, as a matter of fact. I heard that Bluebloods auntie is the Headmistress and has turned the school around.” Rarity states.

“Why, I have heard the same things.” Monocle guy adds.

“I always thought it was an incredible establishment.”

The group quickly begins to compliment the school.

Didn’t take much to convince them.

The group walks past you and continues their gossip. You shake your head and continue to your destination.

Well, I achieved nothing from listening to the conversation.

It takes you about half a minute to find the sports shop. It’s quite a small shop but it is packed with sports equipment. You walk up to the counter and a guy in his early twenties with spots across his face looks at you.

“Hey… have you got any Wonderbolts shirts in a girls size?” You ask, recalling what you’d been told earlier.

The cashier laughs.

“Mate, you’re not that small.”

“It’s a birthday present.”

His grin turns into a disappointed frown and he walks into the back room. He reappears with a shirt. On the back, the name Spitfire is neatly printed in white writing.

“How mu—“

“$200.”

200 fucking dollars!?

“That’s a rip off!” You exclaim.

The cashier shrugs. “Last one in stock. Wonderbolt shirts ain’t cheap, anyway. We’re the cheapest in down.”

You shake your head before reaching into your back pocket and pulling out your wallet. You slide the debit card out and insert it into the machine, tapping in you pin. The cashier drops the shirt into a carrier bag and hands it to you. You storm out of the shop.

What a pile of bullshit. $200 for a shirt.