1_4

Digital_Hex- - - - - - - -A fan-fiction by Digital_Hex

Chapter 4

        I found out why the room went black.

        Mrs. Victory turned out the lights.

        “Hello, class, and welcome to Equestrian History!” Mrs. Victory addressed the class at large, which numbered around seventeen ponies.

        “As most of you remember,” I swear she made eye contact with me, as if I was the only one who wouldn't remember, “I'm Mrs. Victory. Now, I thought we'd start the new school year with a video! How does that sound?”

        A few stallions at the back of the class snickered, probably about some inside joke. An overhead projector flickered on, and then we were watching a documentary about a settler from early Equestria.

        I kind of dozed off there. I was still a little tired from gym... namely the push-ups *cringe*.

        It felt like five minutes, but before I knew it twenty had passed and the documentary was over. Mrs. Victory turned the lights back on, which was what actually woke me up. I yawned deeply, self-conscious of a thin strand of drool stretching between my teeth.

        “Alright, now that was interesting wasn't it?” Mrs. Victory asked. Surely it was a rhetorical question. I sure hope it was, as nopony responded.

        “Well then, if nopony found it interesting-” suddenly her voice was gruff and short. A few students shot upright in their seats.

        Oh no.

        “-then we'll do a pop quiz on this. Now-”

        Mrs. Victory was cut off as the intercom in the room blared over her.

“Digital Hex, to the counseling office. Digital Hex, to the counseling office.”

        Mrs. Victory scanned the room, finding me quickly.

        “You heard Miss Vox,” she barked. “Move!”

        My ears flat against the sides of my head, I skimpered out of my seat and scurried out of class, following the mental map I'd received from Raindrops to find my way back to the central block of the school. From there, I followed some signs until I was outside of the counselor's room.

        The door read Mrs. Dread.

        I felt myself die just that much on the inside.

        Breathing heavily, I swallowed hard before knocking on the door.

        I was immediately met with a response.

        “Come in.” Her voice was surprisingly lively and soft.

        Carefully, I opened the door and slipped inside. There was a huge desk situated inside, so tall that little old me couldn't see the mare seated behind it.

        Apparently, she couldn't see me either.

        “I said you could come in,” she repeated.

        I groaned inwardly as I closed the door behind me.

        “I'm here,” I piped up.

        The counselor looked over her desk, craning her head up until she could see me.

        “Ah, yes,” she said. “They did say you were short-”

        “I'M NOT THAT SHORT!” I barked, no emotion in my voice.

        “Of course you aren't,” Mrs. Dread said with a giggle at the end. “Now, why don't you have a seat?”

        I scrambled onto a (in my opinion) freakishly over-sized chair in front of the desk, feeling like a toddler in daycare.

        “So, Digital Hex, right?” Mrs. Dread asked. “What do you prefer to go by?”

        “Oh, uh...” I stuttered, as I usually do. That was quite a funny subject, actually, and had meant to be addressing that to Raindrops for the past hour and a half, but...

        “I prefer going by Digit, but lately it seems I respond to Hex,” I vented.

        “Ah... so Digit?”

        I nodded.

        “Alright, I just wanted to introduce myself!” she said, her voice flowing like silk.

        “I'm Mrs. Dread, the school counselor for the senior class. I put together your schedule; since it's been quite a while since we had a new senior student here, I thought I'd check in and see how you like your schedule. Do you have it with you?”

        I pulled out my schedule, laying it flat on the table in front of me.

        She pulled out a sheet of paper from a filing cabinet in her desk, a paper I guessed was a copy of my schedule.

        “Good, so how does your schedule look? Are you content with your classes?”

        “Yeah,” I replied.

        Honestly, I was quite happy with my classes. Except history...

        And government...

        And I'm sure I wouldn't be at the top of the class in health...

        “Yeah, definitely,” I repeated. Half of it was a bold-face lie through my teeth, but I definitely didn't want to make a scene over a schedule. I only complained about things that mattered. Like push-ups...

        “Good,” she said, exhaling contently as she sunk a little in her seat. She actually seemed a little relieved that I liked my schedule, or at least appeared to.

        “I saw that on your entrance request you put down music as one of your passions, so I really tried to get you into a music class!” she said with a smile on her face.

        I got it. She really cared about the students, enough to see if they were happy with her work. She seemed nice enough; I'd hate to see what happened when a student wasn't happy with their schedule. She'd probably start crying, the poor thing.

        “Oh, yeah,” I said. “I liked that, thank you!”

        She seemed really happy at my response. Heh, guess it was about time I please someone with my words instead of degrade them.

        “It's my pleasure to put the students in classes they like,” she told me.

        Silence ensued.

        After a while, the silence just got down-right awkward.

        “So... is there anything else you need from me?” I asked.

        “Oh!” she jumped, apparently lost in thought. “No, that's all! You can go on back to class now,” she informed me.

        I thanked her and slid out of my chair, falling to the floor below.

        Once my hooves were nice and settled against the ground, I scurried on off out of the counseling office.

        I don't know why, but the word counseling had a creepy sound to it.

        With almost a half hour left before the end of the current class period, I made my way to the History class. I clambered outside into the commons, still a little at odds with the outdoors being part of the school building.

        The first thing I heard was music.

        It was a soft, gentle flow of strings, a violin it sounded like. The notes rolled on softly but firmly, drenched in meaning. It was real music.

        It was beautiful.

        I followed the music until I was flush against the store in the middle of the commons. The music was clearly on the other side. I started to trot curiously around until a thought popped up in the back of my mind.

Hey, maybe this pony was playing in the commons because they didn't want to be found.

        I instantly began an argument with myself. I did that occasionally. You know, mentally unstable and all.

What? How does that make sense? It's the commons, it isn't like it's exactly a hidden alcove.

        I shook my head.

So what? It's the middle of class, surely there is a reason this pony chose to play in the least populated area of the school. Maybe they want to be left alone.

        Again, I shook my head. I am sure that if anypony had seen me right then, they'd have sworn I was talking to myself. Wait a minute, I was.

But the music, it's so good! Curiosity is going to win, you know this.

        I succumbed to the growing desire to find the source of the music.

        As I rounded the store, I was immediately confronted with two thoughts. The first was, Oh wow, that mare isn't much bigger than I am, and that's saying something- I then mentally kicked myself. I wasn't thaaat short...

        My second thought was Why is she holding that violin like a cello?!

        Surely enough, a white mare with a tinge of burnt red to her coat was sitting on a bench, faced sideways to me. Her eyes were closed as she ran her bow across a beautiful violin, seated in front of her just like a large bass string instrument such as a cello. Her mane was a deeper red, with a lock of light blue running through it. I then noticed a short, stubby horn sprouting from her forehead, almost hidden in her tapered school-filly hair style.

        I then had an extremely absurd thought run through my mind.

She's cute...

        It was then that I died. Figuratively.

        For the first time in my life, I admitted that I might find comfort in another pony's comfort that wasn't my dad. Hey, I loved my dad. He was awesome.

        The young filly continued playing, completely lost in her craft. The music she played was, as I stated before, beautiful. There really is no other single word to describe it.

        There was emotion laced in it, you could feel the music plucking at your heart. It actually made me want to smile. I wasn't a depressed child or anything, but it was still a feat in itself to make me smile; she was almost doing just that with her music.

        I could have stood there all day, listening to her play, but alas it was not to be. She brought her across the instrument one last time, and then there was silence. Se still didn't open her eyes.

        It was then that I realized I probably looked like a real creeper, just standing there watching her. I took a step back, trying to be as stealthy as I could.

        This is why you always leave your headphones plugged in, children. If your headphones are plugged in, then any sounds that they pick up will (normally) only be heard through the headphones, thus not disturbing those around you.

        If they aren't plugged in, well...

        A deep chord of a sharp bass drop echoed across the commons. The mare opened her eyes, immediately focusing them on me. I swallowed hard.

        Busted.

        “Oh, uh...” I stammered.

        She narrowed her eyes. The irises were a butter yellow.

        “H-hey...” I choked out like an idiot.

        She kept her eyes narrowed as she fell from the bench, resting her violin in a propped open case and sliding the bow into a sheath on the front. She finally broke eye contact with me as she swung the case up over her back, hung over her in such a fashion that she looked like she was about to be crushed by the instrument.

        She trotted away, and before I knew it my eyes had subconsciously dropped to watch her flank. I responded (when I finally noticed) by slamming my face into the ground. I rubbed my snout into the dirt for good measure.

        When I gathered enough courage to look back up, she was gone.

        I must have stood there for... well, honestly I have no idea how long I stood there, looking at where I'd last seen her. It felt like a while.

        At one point, I reached up to touch my cheek with a hoof. It was warm to the touch.

        I was blushing.

        I managed to crack out a rather ironic laugh. Me, of all ponies, was blushing over a mare I'd just seen. I hadn't even met her, all I'd done was listen to her play some music!

        It was beautiful music, though...

        The way she handled the instrument, playing so delicately as if she was going to break the music itself if she put too much pressure on it...

        But that wasn't the point! It was completely irrational of me to go getting all red-faced over a mare whose name I didn't even know. I needed to get back to class, surely the current class period was going to be ending soon. I needed to at least check in with Mrs. Victory before the bell rang, see if I would have to make up the quiz at a later date.

        I groaned. I was going to fail that quiz. I needed to be worrying about how I would figure out that mess, not worrying about some mare.

        Especially a mare whose face I would probably never see again.