Our girl Scootaloo 1 of 3

Chapters

Ch 2: A Slimy Ghost
Ch 3: Not a Big Chicken
Ch 4: Silver Spoons
Ch 5: Our Girl is Growing Up
Ch 6: That Poor Table
Ch 7: Unnatural
Ch 8: Cold Steel, Zombies and Girl Scouts
Ch 9: Midnight Sun
Ch 10: Steel Toes at the Ritz
Ch 11: Red Dots and Coffee
Ch 12: Meet the Parents
Ch 13: Live long Or Prosper
Ch. 14 Family Values
Ch. 15 Hard Choices
Ch. 16 Protest and Betrayal
Ch 17: Among the Last of Their Kind
Ch 18: Protecting Family
Ch 19: Any Minor World
Ch 20: Scootaloo goes to Church
Ch 21: The Great Escape
Ch 1. Why is there a time portal in the back yard?

Ch 2: A Slimy Ghost

A Slimy Ghost

Our Girl Scootaloo

by Cozy Mark IV

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan-made work of prose. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is the property of Hasbro. Please support the official release

Chapter Two: A Slimy Ghost

I got a job across state lines in the big city, and we moved into a modest house on the opposite side of the city. In this state we could adopt a child, and we soon had the paperwork filed for our adopted daughter Scootaloo.

"So I'm officially part of the family now? That is so cool! Does this mean I won't have to hide anymore?" She asked pleadingly.

"It won't be much longer now, Scootaloo."

On one of last trips to the hospital before the big day Mary showed us something strange on the MRI image from last time.

"These spots on the top of her brain, isn't that where the contacts for her prosthetic are?"

I looked at Kevin, mortified. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine as far as I can tell, but these spots look almost like RFID tags or tiny antennas…" She frowned "Is it possible her body is adapting, trying to improve the sensitivity of the connection?"

Scootaloo looked puzzled. "Does that mean I'm some kind of Borg pony?"

Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "You let her watch Star Trek?"

I smiled as Kevin got down on his knees and made a show of looking Scootaloo over before pronouncing "Nope, you 100% pony. Know how I know?" She shrugged her right arm. "Because Borg ponies aren't TICKLISH!" They rolled on the floor laughing as he tickled her ribs under the saddle bag and the rest of us thought 'Awww!'

After the usual samples were taken and cataloged, Mary made sure the MRI room was empty and I unbuckled her prosthetic arm, but as Scootaloo got closer to the scanner she started to fidget with her wings.

"Daddy, my wings feel funny." Her face took on a confused look. "And kind of ouchy." Stephanie was already at her side and looking her over.

"Does it hurt when I do this? This?" She put both wings through their full range of motion with no ill effects. Scootaloo was quite a trooper and didn't complain easily. More than once she had come in with a skinned knee or scrapped flank without letting us know because: "You make such a fuss! I'm fine!"

"Are you ok to finish up the scan? It might tell us if something is wrong with your wings."

Our little foal squared her shoulders and looked determined. "I can take it. Its not that bad." And with a sidelong glance at me: "I'm not a little foal anymore," she pouted "I'm a big girl now."

We had to tell not to squirm because it would ruin the image, and she set her jaw, tucked her nose under my chin and nodded. Every time the MRI started up I could feel her tense up and shiver a bit, but she stuck with it, and we soon finished and left Mary and Stephanie to look over the image. Moments after stepping out the door of the MRI room she seemed to perk up.

"Hey, it doesn't hurt anymore!" We gave each other relived looks and hugged her close as she squirmed "You guys! It was just a little ouchy, I'm fine."

We opened the door to the MRI room and went back in to tell Mary had Stephanie, but Scootaloo walked slower and slower as she entered the room.

"Hey ow! Now my wings hurt again."

Mary came out from behind the computer console. "I'll bet they do, now out with you, all of you! Shoo!"

We scurried back to the waiting room with Mary in tow, and again Scootaloo perked right up within a few steps. "Hey, I feel better again!"

Kevin and I looked at each other, then Mary. "I think I know what's happening." She said pulling up the MRI image on the computer terminal in the corner. "See these shadowy blurs around her mid section? Those distortions in the image follow the outline of her wings. The only thing that can cause distortions like this is metal of some kind."

We all looked at Scootaloo who fluffed out her wings and examined them carefully before looking back at us with a confused expression. "I have metal in my wings? And metal hurts?"

Stephanie joined us and pulled the door closed. "I looks like you are growing some kind of pattern with metal parts in there." She said as she knelt and stroked a wing. "And metal can heat up in an MRI scanner –its because of the magnets. It doesn't look like an illness, the pattern is the same in both wings, but until we figure out what is going on I think you and your Daddy get to skip the monthly MRI."

That seemed to satisfy her "Yay! The MRI is sooo boorring! And I have to hold still for soooo long!" She hopped and pranced a bit before a thought hit her. "Does this mean I am a Borg pony all full of impants and natobots and stuffs?"

"No sweetie," Stephanie chimed in. "I don't know what this is, but it doesn't look like a disease –it's the same pattern on both sides, so apparently you're supposed to grow up like this." Then to us: "We'll keep an eye on this, but it doesn't look threatening yet. We will just have to use the ultrasound next time."

Scootaloo gave us a sharp look "An ultra what? Am I going to have to hold still again for this?"

"No sweetie, you can move around if you need to, and its usually faster, but it does involve goo."

"Goo?" She asked.

An hour and one full body ultrasound later found us herding our little one into the hospital shower. "OOOHHHH! I am a slimy ghooooost!" She wailed as she slid into the shower and I helped her set the water temperature. Kevin waited outside while I wondered about the wisdom of letter her watch Ghostbusters. A passing janitor mopping the floor looked up at Kevin as an enthusiastic rendition of the 'Sponge Bob' song rang loudly from the shower.

"Aren't they just adorable at this age?"

With pressure mounting from Mary, we made some discreet inquires into the only news outlet that could safely release the news of our little one to the world –NPR radio. They had already run a few small pieces on the mysterious DNA sample no one could explain that was revolutionizing medical science, and when we called and identified ourselves as the source they were skeptical, but agreed to send a Ms Neighmond.

We had Scootaloo wait in her room while we sat with Patti and went over the full file; the time portal, the medical records, photos of her growing up, everything we knew. When we were finished she was silent for a moment.

"This has got to be the most elaborate hoax I have ever seen. You have obviously spent a lot of time on this, but why would you concoct this ridiculous story?"

"Scootaloo" I called down the hall, "please come say hello to our guest."

The only sound was the clop of her hooves as she trotted down the hall, right up to Patti and held out a crayon drawing with her prosthetic right arm. "Hi Ms Patti! I drew this picture of you reporting on a health policies."

...Thank goodness for smelling salts.

Patti had to bring several people from the editor's desk before they finally ran the story on the radio, and as we requested, they made the entire file and all the information available online except the pictures, only a few of which went up. This had the desired effect of spreading the impact over a couple of weeks as the world gradually got wind of the 'fact' that NPR had collectively lost their minds.

As various people with knowledge of science sifted through the records, the consensus soon developed that this was somehow real, even as the pundits continued to slam NPR. At the three-week mark Scootaloo, Kevin and myself made our first appearance on a major network and introduced our family to the world. Into the astonished silence we all asked the same thing, but Scootaloo summed it up best:

"I don't know where I came from or how I got here, but I have friends to play with, teachers who care, a good home and two daddies who love me. Please don't take that away from me."

As the world looked into her big purple eyes there wasn't a dry eye to be had in the house.

Then next month was a roller coaster ride of publicity, stress and interviews. We did what we could to shield her from it all, but some things were impossible to hide. During one interview while Scootaloo was talking about her favorite flavors of ice cream a man stood up from the audience and began shouting obscenities.

"YOU FAGGOTS ARE GOING TO BURN IN HELL, ALONG WITH THAT GODLESS ORANGE FREAK!"

There was a lot more about evil liberals, black helicopters, and something about a pagan spaghetti monster being in violation of the word of god as security hauled him out. Poor Scootaloo cowered in my arms until everyone settled down and then looked right at the anchor and asked in a shaking voice "Why does that man hate my daddies?"

Dead silence followed.

"Daddy," she almost whispered "am I a freak?"

Tears flowed, and we held her while she sobbed, comforting her as best we could. That one clip was probably played more than any other over the next week, and painful as it was, it seemed to help. The hate mail our friends had been sorting though dropped way off, and the news cameras seemed to keep a more respectful distance.

Ch 3: Not a Big Chicken

Not a Big Chicken

Our Girl Scootaloo

by Cozy Mark IV

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan-made work of prose. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is the property of Hasbro. Please support the official release

Chapter Three: Not a Big Chicken

As the furor gradually faded our friends and their home-schooled children were able to relax a bit. We had been having almost nightly sleepovers since it all started to deal with the people and crazies who inevitably showed up. We were very fortunate to find one of our home-school dads was a member of Bikers Against Child Abuse (BACA), and his help and support was invaluable.

We also received offers of help and support from people and organizations of all kinds, and Scootaloo got very good at shaking hands with her prosthetic. We happily accepted an offer from Mary's hospital to provide free medical care in exchange for acting as the distributor of medical and genetic information, and Stephanie's newly minted veterinary practice got the best publicity imaginable when she came forward as our daughter's long-time doctor.

We also made it a point to locate a sympathetic city judge who declared Scootaloo to be a full person in the eyes of the law. There was a nice speech about not repeating the wrongs of the past, and he got a useful boost in his campaign numbers.

Our daughter's most lasting memory from this time was probably her trips to see the professional prosthetic engineers who worked with her to design a set of two better, stronger arms. She got the works, including prototype sensory feedback from the hands to electrode panels on the insides of her harness so she could feel pressure in the hands as a tingling in her sides. They also replaced my hack job control device with a much more sensitive purpose built 'hat' for more delicate motor control. They even designed a set of straps with bite cleats so she could take the arms on and off by herself. She adapted to the new prosthetics faster than we would have thought possible, and it all culminated in her beating both of us at a game of 'horse' at the basketball hoop in the backyard, which was followed by celebratory ice cream.

Scootaloo's fourth birthday with us is a milestone for everyone. After the publicity nightmare subsided she was able to start exploring the neighborhood with us, making friends and just enjoying being outside in public during the day.

As summer began to wane we made arrangements for her to begin attending school for a few hours a day, and after the hubbub had passed, she enrolled for half days in the forth grade. Of course things did not always go smoothly, but the children were actually more accepting than some of the teachers. It took a few stern talks about fairness, equality, and the average amount of punitive damages awarded for violations of the Americans with Disabilities Act and/or the free and appropriate education laws, but we were able to establish a supportive school environment for our daughter while she continued her home-schooling in the afternoons.

We also took Scootaloo and some of her friends to the mall for first time. She was practically vibrating with excitement as she led our group into one store after another, asking, "Hey what's that? What does this do?" and pausing every so often to proclaim: "This is so awesome!" We could hardly blame her –internet shopping only shows what you ask to see, so clothing stores, jewelry, garden stores, and even Walmart were full of new experiences. When the nice lady at the jewelry counter asked if she wanted her ears pierced Scootaloo was too excited to pay much attention, but Kevin and I exchanged concerned glances – what were our house rules on such things?

By the end of her fourth grade year she was spending the full day at school, and looking forward to summer vacation as much as the rest of her class. As the weather heated up she got her first trip to a pool and her first swimming lessons. She took to the water like a fish, but it was the diving board that she adored most.

"Hey guys, watch this!"

She managed three mid-air flips before face planting into the water halfway down the pool and coming up sputtering.

"Scoot, you can fly!" one of her friends yelled "That was awesome! Do it again!"

With her friends cheering her on, and without the weight of her prosthetics, we all watched in amazement as she glided longer and longer distances before splashing down. She couldn't quite fly no matter how hard she flapped her wings, but it was clear that wouldn't last long.

We helped her towel off and took the group out for waffles and pancakes afterwards, and while the kids stuffed themselves with syrup and strawberries I pulled Kevin aside.

"I know we didn't think Scootaloo would ever fly in our world, but it looks like we were wrong."

He looked on as she mimed diving into the pool and the whole group laughed again. There were tears in his eyes as said: "I didn't think she could either, but I'm so proud of her!"

"I'm proud of her too," I said, my own heart swelling at bit, "but we have to help her with this. We need to get her into pilot training."

"Oh, but just look at her, why would she need-"

"Because they don't have high voltage power lines in Equestria." I intoned forcefully. I let that sink in. "Or guide wires holding up cell phone towers, or gray glass buildings that disappear into the fog on a cloudy day. If she can fly, we have to train her how to do so safely. The leading cause of death among young birds isn't snakes or cats, its immovable objects."

His face sank as the danger registered. "Its okay," I said "Give me a few days to find a flight instructor willing to work with us. Seriously, what pilot wouldn't want to teach a Pegasus to fly? And in the mean time she is already pretty good with the flight simulator you got her last year. We can do this." I squeezed his hand reassuringly and he nodded.

Her first flight lesson came four days later. I told her to practice the flight simulator after dinner and her expression changed gradually as she worked through;

'they want me to play video games? Yay, video games! Wait, why that one, why the flight sim?' I smiled and mimed airplane wings and engine noise.

Her eyes lit up and she almost hovered for a moment "You guys got me flying lessons?! You are so awesome!"

Her instructor met her at the runway the next morning and asked her to tell him what all the controls in the old Cessna were for. She ran though all the instruments, the engine controls, petals, yoke, nearly all the important items as he smiled and had her strap into the left seat. I looked at Kevin and he gave me that grin of his: "What? She's a smart kid and Microsoft makes a good flight simulator."

They spent some time orbiting the airport before flying off to work on navigation skills. We stood arm in arm watching the plane dwindle into the distance when Kevin asked: "Jayne? Do most parents have to worry about the flying skills of their fifth graders?"

"Only the very lucky ones."

Her fifth birthday party came with aircraft rides for the other kids, and a tablet computer to display flight and GPS maps. She had learned to read the flight maps and know what the highest obstacle within a given area was, and hence how high she had to be to stay safe. She had also expressed some concern about being the school's only nudist, and Kevin was only too happy to teach her how to sew. His birthday present to her was a sturdy second-hand sewing machine of her very own, a set of aviator goggles, and a gift card to the local fabric store.

On one and a half incomes we wouldn't normally have been able to afford the flying lessons and rides, but the airport manager had agreed to shoot a few commercials with Scootaloo, and it worked out as a win for everyone.

And it was on her birthday that she revealed she could fly! She disappeared from the party just before the cake was to be cut, and we found her arms lying under one of the folding tables. We were just starting to worry when she came sailing down the runway on her own two wings and stumbled to a landing in front of Kevin and I.

"Ta-da! I finally got it right two days ago, but I wanted to surprise you dad!"

Beaming we scooped her up, hugged her and told her how proud we were.

The sixth grade was off to a good start when it happened. It was a cool fall evening and the fog was rolling in when Scootaloo shed her prosthetic, pulled on her goggles, and flew off to a friends house to hang out for a few hours. When she left and took off she should have realized something wasn't right, but she didn't have her tablet, and so forgot to check the weather. As she flew home the fog obscured the ground and the sun sunk below the horizon turning the sky gray. When she got to about the spot she normally landed from she looked down to see nothing but fog and clouds.

"Oh crap, where is it…" She looked around in all directions, but the clouds had covered everything. Darkening sky overhead and a chill wind made her shiver, as she looked down into the featureless mass below that spread out as far as she could see in all directions like a dull gray sea.

"Dam, better get out my… Dam!"

She'd left her heavy arms at home, along with her tablet. Without it she had no map to tell her where she was, or how high she was, not that she could use it without her arms anyway.

"Stupid stupid stupid! This is exactly what they told us never to do in flight school…" She shivered as the wind picked up, and looked down into the gray mass below, rapidly disappearing altogether as the light faded.

"I've got to get down. I'll just land and call Dad for help, he can come get me…" She flapped slower and gradually sunk beneath the surface of the clouds. Her world became fog. Nothing to see but fog in every direction… "You got this Scoo, just keep cool and come down slow. Its not like you can miss the ground." She tried to keep her wing beats even and steady, but she seemed to be picking up speed. "Too fast, too fast!" She beat her wings harder, but the wind just whistled by faster. "Crap! I must be pointing down! But which way is up!?" She pulled in the direction she thought was up and the wind slowed somewhat. Working frantically she concentrated on bringing the wind noise to a stop and eventually succeeded. Panting and shaking, she looked around her sphere of fog "Okay, okay, no wind, so I'm not moving. I'm safe. I just need to come down slowly so I don't..."

WHOOSH!

A dull steel cable an inch in diameter wiped past a foot from her face. "Shit!" She lunged away, at least she hoped it was away, from the cable and spent the next few minutes trying to still her heart and body. "I'm not moving compared to the cloud, but the cloud is moving along the ground! And I'm getting tired, I can't keep this up forever…"

She shivered again at the cold wind and the terror she felt. It was just stupid fog, but it almost killed her once and she still needed to get down…

Around eight Kevin called her friends house to see when they were driving her home. "You aren't driving her? … She said she was going to fly home?" A quick glance out the window at the dense fog sent a chill down his spine. "In this weather?! … Half an hour ago! Its IFR, she can't fly in this!… No, IFR, Instrument Flight Rules, it means -never mind! Just call us if she comes back to you, she could be in real danger!"

I looked down to see the newspaper I had been reading crumpled and torn in my clenched hands. "You check the computer, see how deep the clouds are tonight. I'll call the police, make sure they're looking for her."

"But shouldn't we put out a light or something?"

I though for a moment "It takes her about 15 minutes to fly from her friends house to home. She's been gone at least half an hour. 15 minutes flight time could put her miles and miles from here, and she hasn't called either. If she could get to the ground she'd call, but if she hasn't called, she can't see the street lights on the ground, or…" the syllable hung in the air.

Scootaloo felt she was running on fumes. She knew she was sinking now whether she wanted to or not and she continue craning her neck, looking for something in her sphere of fog that looked solid, but in the gathering darkness that was rapidly becoming impossible. "I have to get down! Its almost completely dark and I have to rest!" Squeezing her eyes shut she let her wings go slack, and as the wind speed picked up she used a wing beat here and there to keep her speed reasonable.

SMASH!

"OW!"

She spun as she hit and felt herself hurdling through tall grass, where she eventually rolled to a stop, bruised and hurting, in a mud puddle. She lay still for a few minutes trying to catch her breath before she struggled to her feet. "Ow!" She winced as she looked at her right wing which was bent in a direction it was not supposed to bend. Around her was grass over her head as far as she could see… no, not grass, wheat. "I must have landed in a farmers field…"

She took a step and winced at the pain shooting through her wing as tears formed in her eyes. "Ok Scoot, you can do this. Just have to walk until you find a road and follow it to a person with a phone."

She folded her wing at her side as best she could, nearly passing out from the pain, and set off through the muddy field in search of help. Time passed and she still walked through the wheat. Her wing hurt more than she had ever hurt before, but even so she was exhausted from her flight and had to concentrate on walking. More time passed and she eventually found the edge of the wheat field…and the edge of the adjacent oat field. So she followed the border between the crops for half a mile, then a mile.

Finally it led to a dirt path, and her pace picked up as she turned left and followed the path, but after ten minutes it stopped at a rusty old plow. "Oh, why did it have to be the wrong direction?"

She turned and went back the way she came, and this time after half an hour more walking she could see a cluster of lights up ahead though the fog. Soon a barn and some animal sheds came into focus, and as she rounded a corner she almost walked into it.

Hanging from the side of building was a deer, or what remained of one. It was cut down the middle with the entrails in a bucket on the ground, the head hanging limply to one side, eyes glassy and sightless.

She leapt back hair standing on end as she looked up at it. She wasn't stupid, she knew were meat came from even though she couldn't eat any herself. Still, running into a hunters kill on a dark and foggy night wasn't helping her nerves, and her heart was racing a mile a minute. Footsteps sounded in the distance, getting closer. "Ok, lets try going… somewhere else. Quickly!"

She scurried away from the footsteps and on toward the light, and hopefully, the road. As she passed the house she heard a car coming down the road, and she ducked behind a dripping rain barrel as a pickup truck crunched to a stop in the gravel by the front door. The door opened and a girl, maybe 16, got out and said goodnight to the pimply teenage driver who backed the truck up and was soon disappearing into the night. Scootaloo was about to speak up when the light suddenly shone from the windows and the front door flew open with a bang.

"Just where do you think your going missy? Do you know what time it is?!" The angry tirade poured forth, until the girl started shouting back that she didn't understand, that she never let her do anything fun! The girl ran off sobbing and her mother shouted after her to 'get back here right now!'

A man walked into view from the direction Scootaloo had come wearing hunters camouflage with a rifle over one shoulder and a concerned look on his face. The girls mother looked at him until he asked: "Out past curfew agaain?"

"Yes, again! I don't know what to do with that girl!" There was a pause as he walked up to her. Her shoulders slumped and started to shake. He leaned the rifle against the wall and took her in his arms as she broke down sobbing. "Oh, Gerald, I'm so worried about her!"

"Then why didn't you say so?"

They both looked up, startled.

"I'm lost and need help, but when I saw the deer I thought you might shoot me too." She sniffed. "You just showed me you are good people who care, but I didn't see that until after your daughter left."

They walked around the rain barrel to stare at the bright orange foal shivering before them, scrapes and bruises covered her body her feet and were caked with mud and her wing was twisted and matted with dried blood.

"Why did you yell at her like that?" She asked looking up at them.

Gerald was the first to get over the shock "You poor thing! Look atcha, you're a mess! Lets get you inside where it's warm. How did you get way out here by yourself?"

That was the longest night of our lives. It was 1:12 AM when the phone rang. It was Scootaloo, she was hurt but alive, at a farm twenty miles outside of town. We broke every speed limit in the district getting out there, and when we arrived we found mother, daughter and husband all working together to care of our child. They had cleaned her off, bandaged her cuts, and most surprisingly, 'Gerald' had set the bone of her wing and wrapped it against her body.

"Twas no trouble" he replied when we asked "No different from setting the wing on a big rooster." When we continued to stare he added "What? A good rooster is valuable, ya don't go eatin' 'em lest you have to."

Scootaloo sulked at this, muttering "Am not a big chicken…"

Ch 4: Silver Spoons

Silver Spoons

Our Girl Scootaloo

by Cozy Mark IV

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan-made work of prose. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is the property of Hasbro. Please support the official release

Chapter Four: Silver Spoons

Scootaloo put many a pro athlete to shame over the next few months. Instead of being terrified of flying by her close shave with death, she talked it over with her flying instructor. His first comment on seeing her limping in three days later, wing in a cast, was "You flew in the fog, didn't you, young lady?"

She hung her head. "Yes."

"Did you learn why I told you not to?"

She looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. "Yes."

"And are you going to listen to what I tell you from now on?"

She look up at this. "Yes, I am."

"Good, then lets go make today's flight plan and file it. You're almost ready to take your pilots test, and if you're good enough to pass, then after that I can start teaching you how to fly in clouds safely."

She studied her piloting books, guides and maps after homework each night, and that weekend she passed the test with flying colors. I had helped her in some of the calculations for her studies, and while she made her second landing I asked her instructor if I could start coming for lessons too. "A father has to keep up you know."

Her examiner signed off and handed over her pilot's license as she hugged us all and did bro-hooves with her instructor. Then, before we were even done with congratulations, she pulled out an IFR vision blocker hat and asked to go back up. "I bought this with my allowance money, and I really need to learn how to do this right. Will you teach me?"

And so off they flew again, this time with her unable to see anything outside the plane. To pass her 'Instrument Flight Rules' license she had to be able to fly in total darkness and fog, just like what she got stuck in, and navigate using only the plane's flight instruments. She persevered though, and with her healing wing an ever-present reminder, the same November afternoon I earned my pilot's license, she earned her IFR license.

I took what I was learning along with a lot of self taught aircraft engineering design knowledge to the prosthetics professionals who built Scootaloo's arms, and working with her, we designed a proper flight system/suit. "The new arms have to be light enough for me to carry up. Flying on my own wings is awesome, but when I land its like having my hands tied up" She blushed "I can't do anything without them!"

The new arms were designed to use lightweight motors, and I purchased the materials to mold the carbon fiber framework. Scootaloo and I learned to work with the carbon fiber, Kevlar, epoxy, foam and fiberglass, to make molds and do vacuum bagging, and each week we built a new batch of parts from the CAD drawings the engineers sent us.

A pilot app by MGL Avionics designed to run on a phone using Google Glass gave her a display she could see, with synthetic vision so that even in fog, the GPS would give her a picture of the ground and any obstacles around her. We fit the display into the vintage aviator goggles she loved and Kevin helped us form the saddle back that was to become the back plate of her new arms.

Finally fitting day came, only a week after her cast came off – we drove out to the lab and they updated the new computer to match the inputs she had built up with her old arms.

"OMFG! This is so light!"

"Language, young lady!" I admonished. "But you did excellent work on this; look at how the carbon fiber gleams in the light!"

One of the engineers who was looking on with a smile added; "Now you can change the trigger on this, but we couldn't resist. Click your heels together three times."

She raised a purple eyebrow. "And say there's no place like home?"

"If you like, but put the goggles on first."

She did, then hesitantly clicked her back hooves; both arms flipped up and tucked themselves away on top of her back, and the goggle over her right eye lit up as the pilot computer interface powered up.

"Sweeeet! I have got to try this!" She clicked her hooves to unfold her arms and went bounding out of the lab. The whole team followed Kevin and I out where Scootaloo was nowhere in sight.

"Woo HOOO!" She launched off the roof overhead in an explosion of startled pigeons and did a series of loops and rolls before landing at our feet and hugging us both. Then to the engineers; "Thank you all so much, these are the best arms yet!"

Back at the house she was all set to go when Kevin brought out his surprise. "I know you don't get to fly as much as you might like when it's cold, so I made you this." He presented her with a wrapped garment box; "Merry early Christmas."

She opened the box and slowly drew out the coat, admiring it in the light. "Oh wow! I know you've been giving me sewing lessons, but this is impressive work, it looks just like an aviators coat and pants… How long have you…?"

"Ever since we went searching for you on that cold foggy night. I just kept thinking of you lost, alone and freezing somewhere. And now that my little girl is about to fly again…" He sniffed "Just be careful and stay warm." By now Scootaloo was tearing up too. "And be home in time for dinner okay?"

"Okay Daddy, I'll be careful. I love you."

Between her flight training and the new flight equipment Scootaloo managed to stay out of trouble in the air, though life on the ground proved more challenging.

One day after school she came home grumpy and unhappy for no obvious reason. When we asked her what was wrong she snapped "I don't want to talk about it!" and holed up in her room for the rest of the afternoon. Her temper swung between angry and weepy for three days before we put it together.

"Scootaloo, we need to have a family talk. Have you been feeling any… different these past few days?"

She sulked in her chair "Maybe a little. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Scootaloo, we think you've reached puberty. The strange feelings you're having, the wild mood swings; I think your having your first period."

She was no fool, we had covered what we knew about human and pony biology years ago, but it still took a moment for it to sink in. "This is a period?" We nodded, and her face took on a look of horror. "I'm going to feel like this every month from now on?!"

"It should only be for a few days out of the month, but yes, this is what female humans and ponies have to deal with once a month. Have you had any bleeding?"

"No... Oh crap, am I going to bleed, too?!"

"I don't know, but I think we should make our monthly trip to the Doc early don't you?"

Mary and Stephanie worked together on this, and soon had an answer; our daughter was now biologically a woman or mare, take your pick. They had a long private talk with her about her period, the changes she was going through, and what it meant to be a woman. They prescribed a variation on a common contraceptive to try to rein in her symptoms, and that plus the new information they provided helped to reduce, if not quite eliminate her time of the month.

Luckily, it turned out chocolate is perfectly safe for equines.

Seventh grade and middle school brought new challenges and opportunities. She was accepted onto the track team within the first week, though with the title 'honorary member' to avoid legal disputes. Scootaloo could hit 30 mph on the ground, and a track member who could be pulled over for speeding in residential areas was great for moral, but not even remotely fair to the competition.

Kevin's sewing lessons had begun to pay off as well, and as she gained confidence in her abilities she started wearing her outfits to school, often mimicking or improving upon whatever was the fashion. This earned her admiration from some girls, but soon made her a target for others. By October it had gotten bad enough that she came home in tears, crying that she was losing all her friends. "Okay dear, slow down, what is going on?"

She told a tale of back-stabbing, intrigue and deception that would have made a medieval lord feel right at home; apparently a clique of girls had been attacking her dresses, her appearance, and teasing her relentlessly since August. Now things had gotten worse as they told lies to her friends and tried to drive them away, and after one of them had stolen her phone and sent horrible texts in her name it was starting to work. We held her while she sobbed; the world she had spent so long building was being pulled apart in front of her for fun and she didn't know how to stop it.

Kevin wiped her tears away and looked at her very seriously. "Scootaloo, most girls go through a time like this in school. I can teach you how to fix this, but you have to promise that you will only use what I teach you to stop this sort of thing, never to start it."

She sniffed, "Why would I ever do something like this to anyone? Its so cruel!"

"It is, but all these bullies got their start somewhere. Some of them suffered through what you're dealing with, then did the same thing to each other. I need you to promise you will never use what I'm going to teach you to hurt those who don't deserve it."

"Okay, I promise."

Kevin talked the whole thing through with Scootaloo until he understood. Most of the clique turned out to be little princesses who loved to be the center of attention.

"Okay, first we need to buy spoons." We both gave him a confused look.

Working from scratch, Kevin drew up a letter of commendation from the 'Silver Spoon' organization and really loaded it with generic praise and ego stroking, while at the same time never using any specifics, even keeping the name to two elaborate cursive capital 'S' initials twined together with Photoshop. He added fancy font, a logo, and even put in a watermark. We printed off one letter for each girl in the clique and he even printed the "official" logo of the fictional organization on the envelopes.

The letter told each recipient how great they were, and how the fancy silver spoon we enclosed symbolized the wealth and fame they would no doubt go on achieve. With Scootaloo's help we mailed them out gradually over a week so they became a symbol of pride 'I've got mine because I'm special and you're not'. That alone seemed to help, as the in-fighting it caused proved a temporary distraction, but we weren't done yet. Each letter directed the recipient to a web site and encouraged them to enter a picture and the phone numbers of friends and people they admired so everyone could learn about their acceptance into the SS club.

Just as the silver spoon club hit its peak of popularity the text messages went out to everyone the recipients had entered. Each one featured a gif of a girl stirring a bubbling cauldron of brown ooze with a big silver spoon and their picture crudely pasted over the face. The title heading read "Because of her dedication to lies and backstabbing, NAME has been accepted into the Shit Stirrers Club! Congratulations!"

Throughout it all Scootaloo kept her head down, feigning ignorance. Most of her friends soon returned as she explained the theft of her phone and patched things up, but two days after the text blast she brought home news that had her feeling very conflicted.

"Its Brittany," she explained. "She was one of the worst ones, she would never leave me alone, she teased me constantly, said really hurtful things, and she's the one who stole my phone and sent all those horrible things to my friends."

We waited while she tried to find the words.

"The guidance counselor took her phone after the nurse found her cutting herself. They said..." she paused as her voice choked up "They said she was trying to kill herself! The picture on her phone was just the start of it. There were horrible messages telling her not to tell anyone, and pictures... then social services came to her house and found her mom's boyfriend had been doing… awful things… to her and her little brother! He's in jail now and Brittany's younger brother is in therapy! They had to take Brittany to a hospital, and she's going to stay there for awhile, is what the guidance counselor said."

She looked at us in confusion as tears welled up in her eyes "What did I do? Was this right?"

"It's okay dear,' I said "lets think this through. Did she try to kill herself because of your text message or because her mom's boyfriend was abusing her and her little brother?"

She had to think about that, so I continued. "Can you imagine what that was like for her? Imagine what you would feel if someone were abusing one of your friends, really hurting them, and they told you they would do even more horrible things if you ever told someone. Yes, the picture you sent to her probably made her feel bad, but that wasn't the only awful thing going on in her life, not by a long shot. And because she felt bad, she did something stupid about those feelings, an adult caught her, saw what else was on her phone and going on in her life, and now a lot of really worse things are going to stop. It's even very possible that a big part of why she was bullying you is because of what was happening to her at home."

We could see her trying to imagine it from Britney's position. Her face flashed anger and terror, then gradually, understanding. "Oh my God, I'm a horrible person!"

"Now hold on a moment there; what would have happened if you hadn't done anything? Your life would still be miserable, and what would her life be like?"

She shuddered. "You think I did the right thing?"

I looked at her seriously "I think you did what had to be done to protect yourself and your friends. In this case you also saved a teenage girl from a horrible situation she couldn't deal with on her own. I don't think anyone can really be absolutely certain whether it was the awful things happening at home, or the picture you sent, or maybe it was both that made her cut herself. In the end, your actions set in motion a chain of events that saved her and her little brother, but had things gone a little differently, you might have only saved her brother."

Her face went ashen.

"This is why you need to use what Kevin taught you responsibly. Some people harass and bully because they don't think or know any better, but for some of them, they're hurting others because they've been hurt so much that hurting is almost all they know how to do. They've been beaten down and victimized for so long, that the only way for them to feel better at all is to hurt someone else. And now you know exactly what you can do with this. You are smarter than a lot of kids your age, and you have to strike a balance; it would be so easy to bully others with what you know now, or you could be a doormat and lose your friends to others who bully...or, you could learn to look at people very closely, try and guess why they're being the way they are, and instead of getting even or just dealing with their nonsense, you can confront them with empathy and show them they aren't alone, or even get an adult involved."

"But that's the problem! I told my teachers about the bullying, and they just said that since they never saw any of it..."

"They couldn't do anything about the bullying, specifically. What might your guidance counselor have done if you had come to her and told her how worried you were about the girls who were bullying you, how you suspected something must be going terribly wrong for them to feel the need to be so vicious and hateful to others?"

"...She would've talked to them, and called all their parents in for conferences."

"And the problem with Brittany would have been caught right then," Kevin chimed in. "When the system won't work with you, sometimes you have to work the system."

I knelt down and put my hands on her shoulders.

"When I finally figured this out I was a lot older than you, and I tried to avoid conflict where I could, and stand up for those who couldn't defend themselves. It wasn't easy, but if you stand up for those who can't, even when they're trying to hurt you because they're too broken to know better, you will earn more friends and become a better person."

"I… I think I can do that." She managed with the beginnings of a smile.

Ch 5: Our Girl is Growing Up