“..ake.”
Five more minutes! Just five more minutes!
“...ound Cake!”
Fine, one more minute! Just please stop y—
“Pound Cake!”
Quilted covers were ripped into the air and crumpled in a heap at the foot of a bed. A tan pegasus colt with a chocolate brown mane and tail was curled up on the bed. His wings were glued tightly to his sides. One of his eyes was buried deep into his pillow, while the other one was scrunched up, trying to hide from the morning’s light.
A neon-blue mare with a bright pink mane and tail loomed over him, wearing a frown on her face. It wasn’t an expression of sadness, just one that she had grown accustomed to wearing when waking up her son. Mrs. Cake bent down and whispered into Pound Cake’s ear. “There’s choco-bit cereal on the table.”
That opened Pound’s eyes. His wings went out with a whoosh and he jumped out of bed, sending up a little bit of dust and unsettling his mother’s mane. He paid no heed to her new cowlicks and zipped out of the room towards the kitchen.
Pound’s eyes went wide when he looked up at the dining room table and his sister already at the table. Pumpkin had the cereal box firmly grasped in her butter-yellow hooves. When she saw Pound, she jiggled the box and flashed him a mocking grin. “Looks like I’m getting the last of the cereal.”
Pound spread his wings out and used them get an extra boost of speed. He swerved up and grabbed the box with his front hooves and wings while he planted his hind legs firmly into a vacant chair. “You’re not getting the rest of it!”
The siblings pulled against each other, vying for the sugary confection. When one sibling drew the box closer, the other sibling tugged back, keeping the box at standstill.
Pound grunted and crunched the box a little with his hooves and managed to pull it in his direction. The box was nearly to his bowl and Pumpkin’s hooves were slipping from it. Pound smiled, pleased that he’d managed to wrest the last of the good sugary cereal from Pumpkin.
The cereal would have been his if Pumpkin hadn’t used her horn. Despite Pound’s strength, the box was quickly covered in a clear blue aura and it inched back over to Pumpkin. Pound gritted his teeth and tugged against the magic, but to no avail; the box only moved further and further away from him.
Even with her magic, Pumpkin was struggling too. A few beads of sweat rolled down her face while she focused on getting the cereal over to her side of the table. Both siblings dug their back hooves into their chairs and tugged with all their might on the box.
Suddenly, there was a ripping noise and both Pound and Pumpkin went flying backwards. They crashed to the ground while flakes of cereal rained down on them. The remnants of the box flopped onto the table.
Pound and Pumpkin struggled to their hooves and looked around at the mess. Their faces paled when they saw their mother on one side of the room and their father on the other. “Oh...” they both said at the same time.
Mrs. Cake sighed and trotted forward, her hooves crunching on cereal with every step she took. “I’ll get the broom.”
While Mrs. Cake went into the other room, Mr. Cake walked into the dining room and shook his head at the mess. He bent his head down and looked at his children. “That’s the fifth time this month. Can’t you share?”
Pumpkin glared at Pound and then brought her eyes up to her father’s. “It’s his fault! I was just pouring my cereal when he barged in and tried to take it from me!”
Pound jabbed a hoof at his sister. “After she said she was gonna eat the rest of it!”
“Liar!” Pumpkin shouted.
“You’re the liar!” Pound shouted back.
“Shut up!” Pumpkin angrily threw her hooves the ground. “Shut up you stupid blank flank!”
“Enough!” Mr. Cake slammed a hoof to the ground. His voice reverberated throughout the dining room and the rest of the house. Pound and Pumpkin stood still as stone while Mr. Cake marched over to them. “One more word and you’re both grounded. Pumpkin, you mother will grab you something on the way to school. Pound, you’re staying here to help clean up.”
Pumpkin trotted to her backpack, picked it up, and went to the door. She waited there while Mrs. Cake came back into the dining room. She set the broom against the table and traced her eyes over her family. “I heard shouting.”
“Dear, could you take Pumpkin to school?” Mr. Cake said with slumped shoulders. “Pound and I will handle the mess here.”
“Yes dear.” Mrs. Cake trotted over to the door and held it open for Pumpkin. Pound clenched his teeth when he saw Pumpkin look back and grin at him.
Pound and Mr. Cake stayed silent as they swept up the remains of the cereal. When the worst of mess was cleared away, Mr. Cake made his way back into the kitchen and quickly reappeared with a bowl balanced on his head and a box of oats clenched in his teeth. He trotted to the table and set the bowl down in front of Pound’s seat.
Pound didn’t move to eat the oats. Instead, his haunches slumped to the ground and his lips twisted into a scowl. “It’s all because of that stupid mark. I hate it!”
“Pound Cake...” Mr. Cake laid a reassuring hoof on his son’s shoulder. “I know things changed when your sister got her cutie mark first, but you’re still brother and sister. What would Pinkie Pie say if she saw you like this?”
Pound’s scowl deepened. “She can’t say anything. She’s off with the Princess.”
“That’s never changed anything before. Why, I bet bits to cupcakes, when she gets back she’ll want to have a word with both of you as well.”
“It won’t get rid of Pumpkin’s mark,” Pound huffed.
Mr. Cake sighed deeply and drew his hoof away from his son. “Pound, we’ve gone over this before, everypony gets their mark eventually. Your sister did and so will you. You and your sister are just growing up and that makes you do stupid things sometimes. I can think of a few broken windows and blown-up ovens I regret.”
Pound stirred up and raised an eyebrow at his father. “What?”
“That’s a story for another time.” Pound blinked when a devious smirk appeared for an instant on Mr. Cake’s face. It was gone when Pound opened his eyes again and Mr. Cake had already grasped the milk with his mouth. He poured it over Pound’s breakfast and then served himself. “For now, you have breakfast to eat and school to get to.”
“School...” Pound mumbled. He curled his hoof around his spoon and jabbed it into his breakfast. A few of the drier oats crunched when he scooped them up with some milk. He shoved the mixture into his mouth and loudly munched on it. It helped dull his thoughts about the day ahead.
~~~
A light chill wind brushed against Pound as he made his way to school. A few of his feathers pricked up because of the cold. Nopony without wings seemed to notice cold. Winter Wrap Up had come and gone, but pegasi knew that winter still lingered a little. Lower moisture levels, stronger winds, and greater electrical stability were all things only pegasi and perhaps a few seasoned earth ponies would notice.
Pound pushed his feathers back down and tightened the beige scarf around his neck. For a second, he relished the idea of getting sick and staying home; then he rationalized that he’d just have more work to do when he got back to school.
Worse yet, he might have to personally see Mr. Dewey Decimal. Pound shuddered at the thought. In his head, he could hear Mr. Dewey’s monotone droning on and on, lulling everypony with a brain to sleep. Just thinking about it slowed Pound’s steps and made his eyelids heavy.
“Hey Pound!” a voice called out, breaking Pound away from the spectre of Mr. Dewey. He looked around and a square red muzzle popped up in front of him. “Didn’t anypony tell ya pegasi have their heads in the clouds and not the ground?”
“Redstreak.” Pound’s eyes went over to the yellow apple with sharp edges on his friend’s flank. Redstreak had gotten it about a year ago. To Pound’s relief, nothing much had changed about them being friends, which gave Pound cause to smile. “Have a good weekend?”
“Ah guess, Ah had to help ma Pa plow the south field. Ah really wish ma Aunt Applejack was around more often. She always knew how to till the soil just right.” Redstreak heaved his shoulders forward and blew up part of his pink and yellow mane that tickled the bridge of his muzzle. “Ah still got it done, but Ah’m not made for slow work like that. Get me makin’ cider! Just something fast!”
Pound playfully shook his head back in forth. “I don’t doubt you. There’s a reason everypony always wants you on their team when we play sports.”
Redstreak lightly elbowed Pound’s shoulder. “If Ah remember correctly, they want you on their team too.”
Both of them chuckled at that. When their laughter died down, Redstreak pulled himself closer to Pound, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “So, did ya hear?”
Pound backed his head away. “Hear what?”
“Apparently, we got a new kid coming to our class.”
Pound’s ears pricked up. “Who’d you hear this from?”
“Crisp Wind. She stopped by to pick up some applesauce for her baby brother.” Redstreak paused his story when a series of bell tolls rang from the school. “Shoot, time for class.”
Pound and Redstreak made their way through to the large front doors of the school. Redstreak continued his story as they walked. “Anyway, Crisp said she saw a bunch of boxes and furniture by the old house nopony has lived in since we were foals.”
“Okay, so Crisp got new neighbors.” Pound took the lead, turning around a corner. His classroom was now in sight. A simple wooden sign hung over its door with black letters: Dewey Decimal. Pound clasped the door knob with a wing and held it open for Redstreak. “How do you know there’s gonna be a new kid in our class?”
“That’s where things get interesting,” Redstreak said with a grin. “See, Crisp said she...”
“Mr. Redstreak.” The voice was not loud or very authoritative, but it stopped Redstreak in his tracks. He looked away from Pound up to the older stallion at the front of the classroom.
Dewey Decimal had a fitting dull grey coat. His mane had receded, leaving a good part of his forehead bald with white fluff on its sides. “I’m sure whatever story you had for Mr. Cake was very amusing, but it can wait until lunch. Now please take your seats.”
Redstreak’s form slumped and his mane drooped over his face while he silently walked to his desk. He slumped into his seat and sprawled his torso across his desk.
Pound followed after Redstreak, got comfortable in his seat, and pulled out a pencil and a notebook. From the front of the class, Mr. Dewey could have been mistaken for a statue. He reminded Pound of the sculptures he’d seen on a field trip to Canterlot. Pound was certain the actual statues could be more lively.
The second bell rang a few seconds after everypony had taken their seats. Mr. Dewey left his position at the front-center of the classroom and made his way over to the door. He was just about to close it when a yellow and white blur slammed into the door. All the kids peered over their desks to see what was causing the commotion.
The object got up on shaky legs and revealed itself to be a colt the same age as the rest of the class. The way the colt stared down at the ground and hid the upper half of his face behind his mane reminded Pound of Ms. Fluttershy. “S-sorry, I... I got lost and worried I’d be late and kinda... tripped.”
Pound leaned over to Redstreak’s desk and quickly whispered in his friend’s ear, “How’d he get lost? We’re pretty close to the front door.”
Pound’s small talk didn’t get past Mr. Dewey. With a quick sweep, the teacher shut the door with a loud slam, jerking everypony’s attention to him and the new colt. He put a hoof on the colt and brushed some dust off of him.
Mr. Dewey then stepped back to his regular position. He cleared his throat as his gaze drifted over the students. He always looked like he was about to fall asleep, with his eyelids half shut and weighing heavy on his face. “Good morning class. Today we have a new student joining us.” Mr. Dewey’s wrinkled neck slowly twisted in the new colt’s direction. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
The colt answered with silence. The shaking in his legs had spread throughout his body now. After a few awkward seconds, words tumbled out of his trembling lips. “Y-yes. M-my name is B-bran. Nice to... to meet you.”
“Thank you, Bran.” Mr. Dewey kept the same stoic unmoving expression in the face of Bran’s nervousness. Everything was hidden beneath a grey mask of slumped eyes and jowls. “There are a few seats near the back. Will that work for you?”
“Y-yes.” Bran tediously made his way to the empty seats, moving each leg one at a time, making him resemble a four legged spider. Pound caught a few kids snickering. He was more curious why Bran walked the way he did.
Pound got a better look at Bran when the timid colt stumbled past him on the way to a vacant desk. Bran didn’t look injured: his legs bore no scars from injury and none of his bones seemed misaligned.
However, there were two crucial details Pound didn’t miss. One was that Bran was sweating like the sun was on his back. The second detail and the one that truly interested Pound was that Bran’s coat was pure yellow. He didn’t have a cutie mark.
~~~
Pound pushed a door to the schoolyard open and stretched out his wings. After a sandwich for lunch and a cold lecture from Mr. Dewey, the crisp air of early spring felt like a warm summer’s breeze. “How does he make the relationships between Equestria and dragons boring?”
“He makes every part of history boring,” Redstreak said with a shake of his head. He marched ahead of Pound towards the dirt diamond that had been carved into the yard. “Ah hope he never gets into modern stuff, he might make ma family sound as dull as ma great granny’s teeth.”
Redstreak flipped his head back and gazed up at the clouds. He let out a deep sigh while his eyes wandered across the sky. “That new kid was the only interesting thing in class.”
“Uh, Redstreak?” Pound poked Redstreak in the side. Redstreak lowered his head and turned it over in Pound’s direction. Pound’s face was twisted in a half-groan half-scowl. Pound raised a hoof and pointed off to the schoolyard. Redstreak’s eyes followed to where Pound was pointing and narrowed. “We’ve got trouble.”
Bran was on the other side of the schoolyard with a green colt and a yellow filly at his sides. They circled around him like lions around cornered prey. Bran was doing a very good job playing that part, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. He kept his head to the ground while the two bullies leered at him from all angles.
“Great, another blank flank,” said the colt. A cocky grin was painted across his sharp muzzle. His sky-blue eyes glared at Bran yet had a sleepy look to them as well. He flipped his head up, snapping back his silvery mane.
“You got a name, blank flank?” the filly teased. She imitated the colt and flipped her deep orange mane back. She wasn’t able to pull off the same smooth flip as the colt though because of her horn.
Bran kept his eyes to the ground. His lips quivered, but no words came out. A hushed whisper finally stumbled out of his mouth. “B-b-bran.”
“What a boring name,” said the colt.
“Hey!” All three of the ponies looked up to see Pound and Redstreak behind them. Pound marched up to the colt and stared him straight in the eyes. “Leave him alone Gilded.”
“Or what?” the filly called out. “You’ll spill cereal everywhere again?”
Pound shifted his attention over to the other bully. He narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “Stay out of this Pumpkin.”
Gilded snorted and brought himself between Pound and Pumpkin. “Better watch it, blank flank. I hear you and your parents aren’t on the best of terms right now. It would be a shame if they heard you weren’t being nice to me. It might even be bad for business.”
Redstreak came from Gilded’s left and got within hooves’ distance of him. “Get over yourself Gilded. Unlike you, your pa has enough brains to make friends instead of threats.”
Gilded gave a chuckle to Redstreak’s words and his encroachment. “Oh yes, you’re really one to talk about brains. Your whole family talks about apples so much I’m sure you have the stupid things in your head.”
A wry grin appeared on Redstreak’s face. “That why your pa always buys our Zap Apple Jam?”
Gilded’s head reflexively darted back like he’d been struck. He closed his eyes and flipped his mane back again. “Whatever, c’mon Pumpkin. Let’s leave these colt cuddlers behind. I’ve got better things to do.”
Gilded walked off, but Pumpkin glanced back at Pound. Her pupils were tiny black dots that bore into Pound like a snake’s fangs. Pumpkin only looked at him for a second, but it left a bitter taste in Pounds mouth.
The taste faded when Pound’s attention went back to Bran. The new student was frozen in his spot still shaking like his legs were made of jelly. Pound slowly walked over and tapped Bran on the shoulder. “Hey, those jerks are gone now.”
Bran dared to look up, turning his head left and right. When he saw that Gilded and Pumpkin were gone, he bowed his head to Pound and Redstreak. “T-thank you! I... I don’t even know what I di—”
“Tch,” Pound replied, “you didn’t do anything. Gilded Edge has got it in his head that having a rich dad makes him the dictator of the schoolyard.”
“Ah think it’s in his blood,” said Redstreak with a chuckle. “Ma Aunt Bloom says his sister was the same way too.”
Pound shrugged his shoulders. “I hope you’re wrong about that. If being a jerk is in your blood, what’s that say about me?”
“Pumpkin only likes Gilded cause his pa’s got cash.” Redstreak blew up a strand of his mane that had fallen over his eyes and then looked back over to Bran. “Ah wouldn’t worry about it too much. Gilded is always making fun of ponies he don’t like.” He gestured over to his cutie mark with a hoof. “Before Ah got this, he’d always give me grief about being a blank flank. Now he just talks his head off about how ma family is dumb.” A smile sprung up on Redstreak’s face again. “Guess that’s why ma Aunt Bloom is building them fancy skyscrapers in Manehattan.”
“So...” Pound swung his head around and faced Bran. Bran’s shaking had died down but he still kept his eyes lowered. “You wanna play some kickball?”
“W-what?” Bran tilted his head at Pound. “How... how do you play?”
“Geez.” Redstreak enthusiastically slapped himself on the head. He went over to Bran and put a hoof on his shoulder. With his free front leg, Redstreak gestured over to a dirt diamond. In the middle of the field stood a mound and upon that stood a collection of colts. “Ain’t right for a colt to not play kickball. C’mon, we’ve got to hurry or we won’t get picked.”
Redstreak removed his hoof from Bran’s shoulder and darted over to the diamond. Pound lingered behind and stayed by Bran. Pound took a few steps forward while Bran managed to raise a wobbly hoof and took a single step.
Pound shook his head at Bran’s meek display. “You’re gonna need to do better than that to at least get to first base.”
“I’m s-sorry,” Bran called out. “It’s just... this place isn’t like my home.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Pound replied. “Don’t let my sister and Gilded bum you out. Luckily, not a lot of ponies are like them. If Pinkie were here sh—”
Bran stared at Pound when the latter’s mouth shut tight and he flew over to the diamond. Bran took normal steps this time, closing the distance between him and Pound until he was by Pound’s side. “Hey, what were you gonna say? Who’s Pinkie?”
“Nopony!” Pound blurted out. No way am I telling anypony about my foalsitter.“Just somepony that used to welcome anypony new in town. Ugh, nevermind, let’s just get onto teams.”
“Wait, is that the P—”
“Pound!” a loud voice called out from the group of colts, silencing Bran’s question. The group parted, revealing a large orange pegasus with a white and red mane. He trotted over to Pound and gave him a playful punch in the side. “Thought we were gonna have to play a game without you!”
“Julius, when have I ever missed a game?” Pound replied and gave hearty laugh. He reached out and pulled Bran closer to the group. Bran gave a slight “meep” when he was shoved into the collection of colts. “Unfortunately, the new kid’s never played a game before.”
All the colts gasped in horror and a few drew back their heads in shock. Julius brought his head down to Bran’s and gave him a maniacal yet playful grin, causing Bran to squeak again. “Now that’s a shame. Don’t worry my friend, we’ll show you the ropes. Kickball ain’t nothing fancy after all.”
Julius withdrew his head and returned to the center of the mound. He was already a bit taller than the other colts, but the mound made his loom over the rest of them. In a bellowing voice, he called out, “Alright! Butter and Red Brick are captains today! Get to work picking out teams and don’t take forever!”
Julius ceded the mound to the two colts he’d called out and joined the rest of the group to wait to be selected. He, Pound, and Redstreak were within the first five picked. Julius and Redstreak went over to Butter while Pound went over to Red Brick.
As the numbers grew smaller, Pound groaned inwardly. Butter had gotten first pick and hadn’t wasted it, selecting colts whose cutie marks include speed lines, lightning bolts, and dumbbells. Red Brick’s team had a few cutie marks like that too, but a lot more were books, mirrors, or blank.
The remaining number of unselected colts eventually dropped to just two: a white twig of a pony with large glasses named Index and Bran. Pound wasn’t sure whether to smile or frown when Butter’s team picked Index, leaving Bran to shuffle over to Red Brick’s team.
“Finally!” Julius called out in annoyance. He and the rest of Butter’s team raced over to the corner of the diamond where home base was located and lined up. Red Brick’s team fanned out around the field, taking up the positions there were best at. In Pound’s case, that was first base. From there, he could catch a fair amount of wayward balls or chuck them to the other bases.
Bran tapped Pound on the shoulder just as the first player on Butter’s team went up to kick. “Um, where do I go?”
Pound surveyed the scene, noting that all the major positions had been filled. “Eh, just watch out for any balls between here and second base.”
“Okay... what do I do then?”
“You hit the pony running with the ba—” A red sphere crashed into Pound’s face, knocking him off balance. He stumbled around while the hit resonated through his head. He managed to not fall down but that didn’t help the stinging in his face.
“Sorry Pound!” the kicker called out.
“Just watch it next time!” Pound raised a hoof to where the ball had hit him, which caused the mark to sting even more. “Great, half my face is gonna look like a tomato.”
“S-sorry,” Bran stuttered.
“Naw, it’s fine. Actually, it’s a good first lesson: always pay attention. You never know when a ball might co—” Another ball smacked Pound square in the back of the head.
“Sorry!” the kicker called out again.
~~~
Pound hadn’t gotten hit again after the first two times and was immensely pleased when he managed to tag the kicker out. He always sent the ball in the same direction, which happened to be Pound’s head this game. Pound had easily caught the ball with his hooves when he’d noticed the pattern and sent the kicker out.
Pound wasn’t as lucky with the other players. A good majority of them sent the ball flying into the outfield. When a catcher did get a ball, they were often knocked off-balance by the force of the kick, giving the runners time to rush over to another base.
Julius was the worst. He managed to send the ball careening into the sky, high above the schoolyard walls. It would have been lost had a pegasus catcher not jumped into the air and caught it.
“Great, a homerun,” Pound muttered.
“Why?” Bran asked. “The pegasus caught it.”
Pound frowned while he watched Julius strut by them, basking in his homerun. The other runners also made their way to homebase. Pound sighed just as Julius made it to an unopposed home stretch. “Second rule of kickball: no wings, no magic.”
“Oh.”
~~~
The game did eventually turn over and Red Brick’s team went up to kick. Pound was strategically placed in the middle of the line-up like Julius had been on Butter’s team. Bran was placed near the end where an out could be accepted and a kick, even a small one, would allow another teammate to run home.
Redstreak had other plans. He was all the strong kickers’ bane. The outfield became a deathtrap with him in it; he fielded any balls that went there, striking out anypony that had hopes that the distance between the outfield and the bases would be their advantage. After a couple of outs, Red Brick’s team re-strategized and kept their kicks to the diamond. Butter’s other players had strength and speed, but were safer to deal with than Redstreak.
When it came time for Pound to take the plate, Red Brick’s team had only scored two points. First and second bases were loaded, but the last pony to try and make it to third had been tagged out by Julius. Pound’s ears pointed sharply into the air, taking in the sounds of the game. The field was silent and all eyes were to Pound.
Pound took a deep breath and narrowed his focus down to the pitcher. The pitcher rolled back his front leg and prepared to send the ball flying. He twisted his leg just as the ball left his grasp, sending it over to Pound’s left. The shot would have counted as a ball, but Pound wasn’t missing the chance to get a good kick and let it roll past him.
“Strike one!” the umpire yelled.
Red Brick’s team booed and jeered at the pitcher. The pitcher ignored them and readied himself for another shot. Pound joined in, giving the pitcher a mean glare. “C’mon! I’m over here! My sister throws better than you!”
Colts on both teams got a small chuckle out of Pound’s insult. The pitcher’s right eye twitched at it. He gritted his teeth and lined up the shot. “You asked for it.”
The ball went flying at Pound. The pitcher hadn’t even rolled it across the ground like he was supposed to. Instead, he’d thrown it underhoof, causing it to zoom over the dirt straight to home base. Pound didn’t call him out on the technically illegal move and instead wound his own leg back. The ball came within kicking distance and Pound released his leg, splitting the air with a whoosh. He smacked into the ball with such force that his leg actually stung a little.
The shot went flying to the air, even higher than the one Julius had kicked. A few colts’ mouths dropped, including Redstreak’s. Unlike the other colts, Redstreak regained his senses and darted in the direction the ball was headed. The shot just kept flying and flying, out of anypony’s reach. Pound heard Redstreak scream “No!” when a pegasus outfielder flew up to the ball and caught it.
Pound rubbed his leg where the ball had turned it red. It was a little sensitive to touch, but it was worth a homerun. With a smile on his face, Pound made his way end of the line. The other runners could run the bases if they wanted, but Pound was satisfied with a good kick. He passed Bran on the way to the back. “That is how you kick a ball.”
“Got it.” Bran held a tiny grin for a second before the line lurched forward. Bran lost his smile when he saw there were only a few colts ahead of him. He began shaking again and his sweat gave his coat a sickly sheen.
The player ahead of Bran managed to get a good shot in and made it to second base. Bran took slow half-steps up to the plate, keeping his attention on the small white shape than on the pitcher. The pitcher wound up the ball and chucked it. Bran heard the whoosh as the ball came closer, looked up, and flailed his hooves at it. Despite his front legs going in every direction, the ball slipped beneath Bran and over to the umpire. “Strike one!”
Some of the colts chuckled at Bran’s display. The ones close to Pound stopped laughing when he glared at them, but he couldn’t stop the colts on the field.
“C’mon! Recess is almost over!” one of the catchers called out. “Get somepony who can actually kick!”
The pitcher sighed and sent another ball Bran’s way. Bran flailed his legs like with the last pitch, but this time, one of his hooves connected with the ball. It managed to go a good foot in front of him. Bran smiled at his accomplishment but didn’t hear his teammates yelling, “Run!”
The pitcher jumped at the ball and tapped Bran on the shoulder with it. “You’re out.”
“Time out!” Everypony’s head went to third base, where Julius was standing. He abandoned his post and marched over to Bran and the pitcher. “That has got to be the worst kick I have ever seen in all my years of playing kickball!”
Bran flinched back at the words. If it hadn’t been for the wall of colts surrounding him, he probably would have flinched all the way back to his house. “S-s-sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, you’re gonna make it up right now.” Julius spread out his wings and took to the air. He hovered above the rest of the players and looked down on them. “Recess is almost over and with the way things are looking, our team is gonna win.”
Butter’s team whooped and hollered at Julius’s words. Red Brick’s team grunted and mumbled. Bran continued shaking.
“Quiet!” Julius yelled, getting all their attention. “I wasn’t finished. It looks like we’re gonna win now, but that’s boring. So, I’ve got a deal.” Julius jabbed a hoof at Bran, causing him to flinch again. “If the new kid can send a ball into the outfield without anypony catching it, Red Brick’s team wins.”
The proposal drew a roar of laughter from Butter’s team. Redstreak squeezed over to Julius and laid a hoof on his shoulder. “Julius, did you forget I’m out there? No offense, but even the best ponies on Red Brick’s team have trouble with me. It’d be easier to just end the game now.”
“But it wouldn’t be fun.” Julius lifted Redstreak’s hoof away from his shoulder and brought his attention back to Bran. “What do you say?”
“I... I...” Bran stared at the ground for a moment, taking in quick breaths. His breathing quickened more and more before he managed to look up. A few droplets of sweat dribbled down his face as he glanced at Redstreak, Julius and finally at Pound. With each pony his eyes passed over, Bran’s breathing slowed down. After he looked at Pound, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he released his breath, he met Julius face-to-face. “I’ll do it.”
A few of Red Brick’s teammates groaned. Pound and Redstreak scowled at them and yelled, “Shut it!”
Before either could comment on the odd timing coincidence, Julius spoke up again. “Everypony back to your positions! We’ve got a game to wrap up!”
Everypony listened and fell back into place. The field went silent, nopony chuckled or whispered to nearby teammates. All their attention was on the pitcher and Bran. Bran’s sight was square on the pitcher’s hoof and the ball it held. He watched the pitcher roll back his hoof and pulled back his own hoof back in response. Sweat still came down Bran’s face, but his shaking had vanished.
The ball came out of the pitcher’s hoof and raced towards Bran. Bran took another breath and then let his leg fly out. Bran’s hoof sunk into ball.
A glint of sun got in Pounds eyes and he blinked. When he opened his eyes again, he had to rub them to make sure he was seeing straight. The ball was spinning through the air, not as high as Julius or Pound’s kicks, but still too high for anypony to reach. It zoomed off to the outfield while the ponies in the diamond watched with gaping mouths and wide eyes.
Redstreak didn’t gape at the ball and was instead chased it. His hooves swept across the grass of the outfield like the wind and his body became a blur like his namesake. He smiled through his breaths when he saw the ball curve down. It was a good kick, but it couldn’t stay airborne forever. Redstreak gave one last burst of speed with his legs and jumped into the air with his hooves outstretched.
Just as Redstreak’s hooves encircled the ball, there was a loud hiss. A rift opened in the red sphere and it flew away from Redstreak. He slammed into the ground and got a good mouthful of dirt. The deflated sack that had been the ball flopped onto the ground next to him. Redstreak blearily opened one eye, saw the ball, and closed it again. “Ugh.”
Everypony back at the diamond had watched the ball fly into the air and Redstreak’s pursuit of it. When they saw the ball rip and Redstreak fall, they shared a look at one another and then raced over to him, Butter’s and Red Brick’s team alike.
Redstreak was up and spitting out dirt clods when they reached him. Pound looked Redstreak over, noting the fresh red marks on his knees and the new cut on his chin. “You okay?”
Redsteak coughed and spit out a wad of dirt and phlegm. He shook his head around and then stared at the remains of the ball. “Pleh, better than the ball at least.”
Julius trotted over to the ball and picked it up with a hoof so that everypony could see. All their attention then turned around to Bran, who was near the back of the group and quivering once more. “I... I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin it!”
“We’ve kicked this ball around since we started school,” Julius sighed. He threw the ball to the ground and advanced over to Bran. Bran fell to his knees and scrunched up his body and his eyes. Both Bran’s eyes fully opened in surprise when he saw that Julius was holding his leg up high. “Looks like Red Brick’s team wins!”
A combination of cheers and groans filled the air. Everypony on Red Brick’s team rushed over and congratulated Bran through hoof shakes, slight punches in the shoulder, or other celebratory measures. Bran twisted his head around, trying to make sense of what was going on.
The crowd around Bran grew thick but Pound managed to muscle his way through it. He flared out his wings and scattered the colts. “Give him some air.”
Bran bowed his head to Pound and shook it back and forth. “I... I don’t get it. I popped the ball.”
Julius let loose a deep chuckle before slapping Bran on the back. “As I said, we’ve had that ball since we started school. Somepony was gonna pop it eventually. You just happened to be the lucky one, not to say that you didn’t pull off a good kick too. Keep playing and you might just get first pick one day.”
The bell atop the school gave a loud rhythmic chime. Julius smirked at the noise. “Good game everypony! We’ll figure of something else to do until we get a new ball next time!”
A few whoops followed after Julius spoke, but most of the colts were already heading back to the school. Pound moved away from the dissipating group, staying close to Bran. Redstreak went to Bran’s other side and the three walked back to the school.
“Pretty sneaky of ya,” Redstreak whistled. “Playing the whole ‘scared new kid’ and then sending the ball flying.”
“I just kicked it... is all,” Bran stuttered.
“We’d be going through balls left and right if we all just ‘kicked it.’” Pound raised up his wings and flexed them to form air quotes to go along with his words. Bran didn’t smile at Pound and instead kept his head somewhat low. “Aw come on, are you really that upset about the ball? Sheesh. Tell you what, we’ll celebrate after school.”
Bran moved his head up and looked at Pound with curious eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah, the, uh, pony that welcomed new ponies to town always took them to my parents’ shop.” Pound glanced ahead and noticed Gilded and Pumpkin entering the school. The grin that had been on his face since the game ended fled and was replaced by a neutral line. “Besides, Gilded’s probably gonna want to mess with you if he finds you alone.”
“Oh...” A shiver ran down Bran’s neck and spread to the rest of his body. “Yeah, I think celebrating after school would be a good idea.”
“Sweet!” Redstreak cried out. “It’s been too long since I went to Sugarcube Corner anyway.”
Bran stared at Redstreak for a few seconds before turning back to Pound. “Is it really that good?”
“Best in town,” Pound replied, regaining the grin he’d lost.
Author's Note
How is it we have a changeling character tag, but we don't have one for Pound and Pumpkin? This needs to be rectified. Mods, when you're looking over this chapter, think about this.
