I'm in Heaven When You Smile (pt. 4) [cancelled]

- small note: this chapter was never finished. -

>Your toes wiggled endlessly in a vain effort to curb your nervousness.
>”I like the story,” he said with a small smile that soon faded, “but I don’t know how to get it out there.”
>You furrowed your brow; this pony had to be at least in his fifties if your assessment of his greying brown mane and spotted slate face was accurate.
>How could he not know how to get it out there?
>It’s a book for pony’s sake.
>His office was a lot smaller than you thought it would be, couldn’t be any bigger than your school principals.
>A big name publisher, in one of the many skyscrapers in Manehattan, and he does business in a cracker box with no windows.
>His wall clock ticked with your heart beat as the pendulum swung possessed.
“What do you mean you don’t know how to get it out there?”
You shift in your seat and try not to shout, “That’s like a marketing problem right? I thought this was just a meeting to see if you were interested?”
>He cleared his throat and you wondered if he’d heard all this before.
>”Well, this is a meeting to see if the company is interested, not me. I have to look at these kinds of things from all angles, and marketing is one of them.”
“I don’t understand,” you rub your head, “if marketing is such a big problem for my book, then why did you have me come in for a meeting?”
>”Look, if it was up to me we’d have your name on a contract by now.”
>You were ready to blow this off, but then he leaned forward as if he was harboring a secret.
>”I’m just an old hand. I’ve been getting paid by the hour here for two years, and I’ve looked at a lot of manuscripts in that time. You want to know how many?”
>You looked around the office and saw all the papers that covered the available space of every table, shelf, and drawer in the room.
>”That’s right; they’re all manuscripts and portfolios. Just like yours.”
>The endless white and manila stacks seemed as if they’d topple over any second.
>You leaned forward as well.
>”Your book…” the old hand shook his head and huffed, “when I saw what you did, I knew that it’s what I’d been looking for this whole time.”
>He straightened up and gestured as he made his points, “the company wants something new, or at least that’s what they say they want. “
>”I don’t know how familiar you are with the market for children’s books, but it’s very slim.”
>”Basically, there’s a formula to how these books work.” The old hand smirked, “one you probably didn’t know about.”
>He sighed, “How many publications did you send your work to?”
“Well, in school they taught me that the best way to be published was to study the history of what was published there.”
>”That’s for adult fiction though.”
>You blew some air out your nose, and the old hand looked right through you before his eyes lingered down to the papers on the desk before him.
>”Went to the Canterlot Institute eh?” He smiled, “good school. But those graduates don’t usually end up making kids’ books.”
>Your lips tightened and the old hand smirked.
>”They don’t usually go on to look through manuscripts either though.”
>A tickle formed in the back of your throat and you forced some air to come out your lungs and make you growl.
>It was only then that you noticed how close the air clung to your face, and the musty smell of the forgotten manuscripts overpowered the room.
>”Look, this story is good, but I like it cause it’s different. I snuck it out and showed it to my kids, just to see if it was just me or something, and they loved it too.”
“How old are they?”
>He grinned, “Gotta ten year old colt and a six year old filly. They’re a lot of work for an old guy like me.”
>You smirked, not wanting to feel rude.
“Guess you’ll have to buy them my book when it gets published then.”
>The old hand’s eyes looked into his mind for a while, and then he sighed and faced you.
>”Okay, I have to come clean on something. This isn’t a meeting about your story.”
>You just raised an eyebrow at him.
>”I’m on my lunch break right now.”
“What are you talking about?”
>”Let me tell you what happened.”
>He shifted in his seat, then stopped and opened a drawer in his desk.
>A double daisy sandwich on rye came out.
>You gave him a blank stare as he took a bite.
>”What? I only get thirty minutes.”
>The back of your head tensed and you got up.
>”Hey,” he slurred with his mouth full, “where you goin’?”
“I don’t like this. I’m leaving.”
>”What’s the problem kid?”
>You glared at him.
“The problem is that I took a day off of work for this, and it looks like I just wasted my time.”
“So I’m leaving,” you turned away. “If this isn’t about my story, then I don’t see why I should stick around.”
>The old hand slammed his hoof on the table and his voice boomed.
>”Sit down!”
>You quickly do as you’re told and wiggle your whole body to curb your nervousness.
>”Sheesh,” some lettuce fell on some papers and the mayo stained his chin. “Why are you darn kids always in such a hurry? I said we had thirty minutes.”
>You rubbed your thigh and waited for him.
>”I know this probably isn’t what you wanted,” he sighed, “believe me when I say I know that. But I do want to help you; I wasn’t trying to make you feel foolish.”
“Yeah alright,” you wanted him to move on.
>”My job here is to go through the manuscripts and portfolios and find something good. I’ve gotten pretty good at it over time, but that’s just because I know what the company wants.”
>”It isn’t getting me anything though. Except for more of this,” he waved his hoof over the room.
>”With your story we’re in a unique position; you got the usual, all the cutesy stuff, and the moral whatever, but there’s something else too.”
>He smirked, “first of all, I love the art. Mostly the painting done in it, the colors, that whole splatter effect thing. It gives intensity to the scene that regular drawings can’t do.”
>”Ponies in the art world over in Manehattan are goin’ doe eyed for that kinda stuff right now. But that’s the art world, not the world of kids’ books.”
>You shrugged.
“I’m not a very good painter, that’s why I let my friend do it. He went doe eyed for that stuff to, still kind of is.”
>One of the scenes lay before you; Kimmy looking down at the rat as he looks up, as if asking some great power to grant him mercy, his eyes are sad and full of worry, he will soon be blind.
>Your friend, Easel, let a mixture of dark and light blues drip down on the paper where the rat resided, the tiny drops of paint slid down and made it seem as if, “the scenery was crying”.
>Meanwhile, “Kimmy is the light, the world that isn’t blind, so I used warm colors, deep oranges and fall reds, in big drops and splotches, to remind us of the sun”.
>If you say so Easel.
>The old hand smiled, “Well he did a really good job. You picked the right guy.”
>”This is what I mean when I say that your book is different, you have a rat instead of something like  bunny, and you got thought and detail in places other authors never think about.”
“Is this how all your meetings go?”
>”Kid,” he chuckled, “any communication a company has with an author is usually done by mail.”
“Oh, it is?”
>”The Canterlot Institute must be slacking if you graduated. Anyway, my point is that the two of you made a really good book, but a strange kids’ book.”
>”The company is nervous about getting behind it, and on top of that this is your first kids’ book, and you’ve already stated that you don’t know if you’ll do another. That doesn’t help matters.”
“I never planned to write a kids’ book, it just kind of happened. I really want to write a novel, I’ve started a couple of them, but haven’t been able to finish anything.”
>”That’s the rub. The literary world isn’t really about literature at all; it’s more about names than anything. Companies invest in authors, not books.”
>”You got the name, what with being you and all no offense, but an author can’t be an author without books, and you only got one. Do you see what I’m saying?”
>You thought about it for a second.
“Do you know why I haven’t been published yet? Why I keep getting rejected every place I go?”
>”Well kid, I’d think you know the reasons better than me.”
“I have to stress something, if this meeting is going to keep going, then I don’t want to be lied to anymore.”
>The old hand rubbed his face, “Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Are you sure you want to know all the reasons?”
“Yes.”
>”Well then,” he sighed. “First it’s the fact that, you’re, well, you. Most companies would jump to have you, but not because of what you’ve made.”
“They’d exploit me.”
>”Basically, it’s happened before. There was one author, a diamond dog, pretty rare to find one of those that can even write let alone write a novel, but there he was.”
>”He showed up one day with a manuscript, didn’t take long for him to get picked up.”
>There was a silence, “For what it’s worth, it was a pretty good story.”
>”Nopony cared though. All the press and critics focused on was the fact that he was a diamond dog.”
>”Not just them either, the author insert and the back of the book both didn’t contain a thing about the story. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out why he was picked up so quickly does it?”
>”Anyway, the company wanted to take him on tour, and talk about how he had overcome his heritage or something like that. Well, you can add that to the list of things that didn’t happen.”
>”He left. His book was doing pretty well, he was getting attention, but he didn’t care. I admire that.”
>The old hand took another bite.
“So, what happened to him?”
>He shrugged, “beats me. Maybe he’s out there digging up gems, maybe he’s self-publishing under a pen name, maybe he’s sorting manuscripts, the point is I don’t know. It was a long time ago.”
>You looked at your hands.
“I kinda wish I knew.”
>”What’s that?”
“What he’s doing today.”
>The old hand raised an eyebrow and smiled, “You know what his problem was, don’t you?”
>You shook your head.
>”Well, he didn’t have a cutie mark for one, and that didn’t help.”
>The old hand looked at his sandwich, but you knew he was focused on you.
>”Another thing is, he didn’t have an agent. Someone like that,” he stopped chewing. “Someone like that, they need help, you understand?”
>You nodded, but slowly.
>”If he had an agent, and I mean a good one, then things might’ve worked out better for him. I doubt he knew too much about the business, probably didn’t get any fancy schooling.”
>Well, you’ve never actually seen a diamond dog go to school.
>”Of course,” he wiped his mouth, “a lot of these things don’t actually apply to you. Children fiction and adult fiction aren’t all that different, one’s just got more pages if you ask me.”
>”Here are the licks with you; you have no cutie mark, you’re a bad investment, and to top it off your book is unique. So it’s a triple threat.”
>He inhaled, “here’s what I want to do.”
>The old hand regarded you, “I want you and I to come up with a way to get this book out there.” He looked you in the eye, “and if we get it out there, I want to be your agent.”
“My agent?”
>He didn’t say anything.
“I can’t really pay you.”
>He smiled, “Middle age ain’t the time to be taking risks, believe me, but I don’t care. Like I said, I only want to be your agent if we get your book out there.”
“Right,” you nodded and pretended to follow.
>This made the old hand laugh, “I think you and me are gonna be able to work well together, call me crazy.”
“I’d rather not,” you extended your hand. “My name is Anonymous, call me Anon.”
>He awkwardly put his hoof in your hand and let you shake it up and down.
>”The name’s Herb.”
“You got any big plans ready for my book, Herb?”
>”Sort of,” he spoke firm, “I can get us a meeting with some of the higher ups. I think, if we can get them to meet with you and me, and show them that we’re serious about this working out…”
>He shrugged, “then it’ll work out. But, we need to find a good angle for them to look at this, one that distracts them, from…”
>His eyes looked you up and down and you nodded.
“Make them blind.”
>You and the old hand shared a laugh.
>Something about that made you feel better about all this.
>”We got five minutes before my break is over.”

>”Five minutes, we can do that easy peasy.”
>Mom smiled at you and you did suit.
>You focused and gripped the pencil in your hand.
>Twilight watched eagerly and started her stop watch.
>Mom took a deep breath, “alright Nonny, I want to see a bunny.”
>You pursed your lips but followed anyway.
>Should be easy enough, you only spent like a month drawing a portrait of every single one of Fluttershy’s bunnies.
>One oval for the head; make sure to press lightly even though we’re being timed.
>Two stretched ovals for the ears, how about bending one too.
>A triangle with smooth edges for the body… right?
>You look at your portrait of Angel again and nod.
>Very thin smooth rectangles for the feet.
>Fill in the lines and complete the form.
>One bunny body coming up.
>”What’s his name, Nonny?”
>He doesn’t have one yet; all he is is a body.
“Well, where is he mom?”
>She gasped, “The moon! Or wait, how about a submarine?! No wait! He’s a space bunny traveling the starry oceans in his spaceship submarine! Or how about-“
“He’s a space pirate.”
>”That’s genius, Nonny!”
>Well that’ll make one of these eyes easier to draw.
>”Oh, oh, give him a big scraggly pirate beard, Nonny!”
“I can’t I already drew his mouth. What about a carrot sword?”
>”You’re a genius, Nonny!”
>You only need two tiny half ovals for arms.
>But the carrot sword has to be under his arm and attached at his hip.
>You erase and begin drawing the sword.
>Drawing lightly will make or break this sketch.
>”And can he have a silly hat too, Nonny?”
>Especially when your mom is making all the decisions.
>”Like this.”
>Mom is now wearing a newspaper pirate hat and you nod.
>Twilight was wearing one too, albeit to her surprise.
>You erase the ears and half of the rabbit’s forehead to put a triangle instead.
>And maybe a couple of ovals out the top; because he cut two slits in his hat so his ears could poke out.
>Shouldn’t’ve been so quick to erase those ears.
>Next the background.
>Sparse like a comic strip; little details carefully placed.
>A porthole with the stars outside should work.
>A crazy thought enters your head.
“If space is the sea, what kind of sea creatures would be there mom?”
>”Space gators! Space fishes! Oh, space gummy fishes!”
>Mom started drooling and you asked her not to do it on the drawing.
>She bounced away and grabbed a bucket of popcorn from somewhere and watched you sketch.
>Alright draw another window, with a fish in it.
>You stop.
“What would a space gummy fish look like?”
>You looked to your mom and she took in a deep breath.
>Well, better prepare a mental list.
>”I don’t know, never seen one myself.”
>You purse your lips and just draw a couple starfish.
>Mom pats your back, “Nice space gummy fish, Nonny.”
“Thanks mom.”
>You grab another sheet of paper.
“Alright mom, why is our space pirate bunny sailing the cosmos sea?”
>She puts a hoof to her chin, “Maybe he’s looking for treasure.”
>Well there’s the title.
>’Buried in the Stars’
“What kind of treasure would be buried in the stars?”
>”Gold! All pirates want gold, Nonny.”
>You hum.
“That’s true, but you could stay home and look for gold.”
>”Mom giggles, “Good point.”
>You both share a shrug and look at Twilight.
>”It’s been like seven minutes now you guys.”
>”Twilight do you know what kind of buried treasure would be in the cosmos sea?”
>She shook her head, “not really. But Anon there is gold in space just so you know.”
>Mom finished the rest of her popcorn, over half a bucket, in one bite and headed for the door.
>”I guess we’ll just have to figure out someday huh, Nonny?”
>Twilight huffed, “Pinkie you’re getting butter on the floor.”
>Mom sucked up some drool coming out her mouth and you laughed.
>”Anyway, feel free to come by tomorrow for more Twilight Time, Anon.”
>You gathered up your drawings and nodded.
>”I have to say though, drawing a bunny in even seven minutes is pretty good for your age.”
“Thanks Twi-“
>Spike interrupted, “Probably cause he had such a good teacher!”
“That’s right.”
>Twilight rolled her eyes.
>”But anyway, I do think that this might be your special talent Anon, so practice as much as you can.”
>You thanked her.
>Spike came in from the other room and patted you on the leg.
>”And you can thank Old Uncle Spike for teaching you how to use those claws of yours so well too.”
>”Spike!”
>You snickered.
“Thanks, Spike.”
>”Oh you didn’t have to thank me,” he grabbed his broom and spun it around, “just doin’ my part is all.”
>Twilight ignored him, “anyway, I do think you have a creative mind Anon.”
>Mom called you from the door, “Hurry up, Nonny! The Cakes are throwing out all their old cupcakes today and we gotta get there before the kids beat us again!”
>Twilight sighed, “You two live there. Don’t you get enough cupcakes?”
>You shared a laugh and waved goodbye.
>But the question still lingered on your mind.
>What kind of treasure is buried in the stars?

>”Wake up, Nonny.”
>Your bed shakes like a ship at sea and the sun tickles the back of your eyes when mom opens the shades.
>Then you feel her jostling your shoulder again.
>You mumble some questions and protests.
>”Come on sleepy slug, you can’t be late for your first day of school.”
>First day of school.
>The flitter of tiny wings catches your ear as well as the crash of thud of a body hitting various objects.
>”First day of school! Hurry up Anon!”
>Mom cheered, “You tell ‘em. Get up Nonny.”
>You throw the blankets off and swing your legs and land on the floor with a jump.
>Pound bumps into your wall and a picture falls and breaks on the floor.
>He calls you and flies out into the hall with the grace of a dizzy butterfly; he bumps his head on the doorframe on the way out and you hear him thud and crash in the distance.
>”We’re missing all the fun Nonny, hurry and get dressed.”
>Mom throws some clothes at you and you try to put them on as quickly as everypony wants.
\
>”Come on Nonny, hop out of bed.”
>You groan and rise up to sit in an unconscious meditation.
>Every part of your body seemed to itch as the dirt clung to your skin.
>Mom pushed you out into the hall and you could hear the water flowing in the sleepy pipes.
>You briefly glimpsed two figures disappear around a corner.
>Then the gushing as the door opened and the downpour could be heard hitting the collection in the tub.
>The sun hadn’t come out yet and it seemed as if the sky was being lit by a single candle.
>There was water collected on the floor in concentrated half circles with some random drops and puddles around the tub.
>”We gotta hurry and get you clean, Nonny. You can’t be late for school.”
“Maybe we could try that ‘bathroom breakfast’ idea of yours again.”
>”Are you kidding? That plumbing bill was enormous.”
>You undressed and slipped into the neutral water with little fidgeting.
>”I’m gonna go help with breakfast, don’t take too long today, Nonny.”
>The wet tiles smell like iron and the air feels murky.
>You can’t see what lies.
/
>Mom hops down the stairs and continues to inform you of all the fun you’ll have at school.
>Even though you’ve lagged seriously behind.
>She’s already in the kitchen as you approach the stairs.
>You meet Pumpkin at the top; she’s tying her mane up with a blue bow.
“Where’d you get that?”
>She grunts and struggles to get every strand in the knot.
>”Mom said I needed to look my best for our first day.”
>A loud crash comes from the kitchen; the sound of metal pots and pans crashing down to the floor.
>”Pound please stop flying in the house!”
>”But dad I gotta practice!”
>”No wait-“
>You hear another loud crash and then a silence.
>”Wow,” you hear your mom exclaim, “I can’t believe I never thought of that before.”
>”Pound!”
>You see the Pegasus gallop out of the kitchen and up the stairs, “can’t hear ya dad!”
>Mom comes sliding out of the kitchen on her hooves like a figure skater; she leaves a trial of batter behind her.
>She giggles and calls to you and Pumpkin, “hurry up Nonny, Pound turned the kitchen into a skating rink.”
>You watch as Mrs. Cake walks past and groans, “if you dearies want to slide on the floor you better do it now before I get the mop.”
>Pumpkin quits fiddling with her bow and leaves her mane tangled and in the middle of being styled.
>You both run down and slide across the kitchen floor on slippery pancake batter.
\
>The table is quiet and stoic as everypony sits and eats.
>Mom occasionally tries to break it up with small talk but nothing takes.
>You keep your mouth shut the whole time and your eyes focused on your food.
>Rarely do you poke your head up and steal a look at the others.
>Pound pokes at his pancakes before pushing the plate and giving the area around him vengeful glances.
>Pumpkin looks around the table anxiously and fidgets constantly.
>Mom looks like she’s thinking about something and you notice that she’s making what look like notes and plans on her plate with maple syrup.
>A breakfast strategist.
>Mr. Cake is eating normally; or at least he’s pretending everything is fine.
>Mrs. Cake is doing the same, but occasionally she’ll steal glances at her kids when she’s sure they aren’t looking.
>Pumpkin’s mane is draped around her shoulders again today.
>Mrs. Cake hasn’t said a word.
/
>”Pumpkin please fix that mane of yours dearie.”
>She nods with a mouthful of cake and syrup and looks up and scrunches her nose.
>”Dearie I don’t think you’re going to be able to do it with your magic.”
>Her face goes a bit red from straining and she begins trembling.
>”Please stop before you pass out.”
>Pound smirked, “you can do it, Pumpkin.”
>”Don’t encourage her. Pumpkin listen to your mother.”
>The filly lets out a strained sigh and starts fixing her mane manually.
>”Don’t worry dear; it’ll come when it’s ready.”
>Pound flexed his tiny wings out and in a couple times, breathing praises.
>They flapped once, then twice and it cut the air swiftly and the air swept the table making bowls turn and flipping over unused silverware.
>Before any protests Pound gracefully went up like he was being pulled up by a string.
>”You just gotta find the right muscles,” Pound and Pumpkin studied each other on opposite spectrums.
>An understanding was reached and Pumpkin smiled and nodded.
>Pound opened his mouth to say something more before you saw his left wing stop suddenly and he winced.
>He dropped like a stone and hit his jaw on the table and flipped a bowl of porridge so it landed on his head and the grey gruel soaked his mane and dripped down his face.
>Mrs. Cake scooted out of her seat and questioned his state many times even though he was back up and rubbing his wing before she could hold him.
>They both went upstairs and Mr. Cake took a wet rag to the spilled porridge and laughed a bit at it all.
>”Two messes already, I tell you Pumpkin, Cheerilee is really going to have her hooves full with your brother.”
>”Don’t worry dad, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get in trouble.”
>Mr. Cake smiled, “I know I can count on you cupcake.”
>He ruffles her mane and she giggles and they shake hooves for a playful agreement.
>”Nonny!”
>You gasp and clutch your chest to make sure your heart is still beating regularly.
>”I want you to be on your best behavior today mister.”
“I will.”
>Mom banged her hoof on the table and leaned over you like you were being interrogated, “I mean it, Nonny. If I hear one complaint from Cheerilee about your behavior you’ll…”
>She put a hoof to her chin and her gaze and thoughts drifted away.
>You shrugged.
“I’ll be grounded?”
>”Oh yeah, that’s a good one thanks, Nonny. You want a cupcake?”
>She reached under the table and when her hoof returned to sight she presented to you a pink frosted cupcake with sprinkles of all color and wrapped in paper with hearts around.
>It looks familiar.
“Is that cupcake from the Hearts and Hooves day sale?”
>”I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”
>Right, so it’s long past due.
>You grab it and are amazed to find it in perfect condition; the frosting glistens in the light, the intoxicating smell of cake makes your mouth water, and it even feels warm as if it had just come out of the oven.
>Pumpkin looks at you jealously, “that looks good. Can I have one dad?”
>He pursed his lips, “sorry kiddo, but you don’t need to eat any sweets this early in the morning.”
>You go to take a bite only to feel the cupcake plucked out of your grasp.
>Never even saw her do it.
>Your mom, with crumbs littered on her mouth and a bit of frosting on her muzzle, told you that it wasn’t good to eat sweets so early in the morning.
\
>With instructions to come straight back home after school you all wordlessly headed out.
>Pound walked with his head low and his steps heavy while Pumpkin kept moving her mane out of her eyes as it draped down and tickled her brow and eyelids.
>You reached into your pocket and grabbed her bow.
“Do you want this back?”
>Pound was still quiet and moody when she stole a glance at him.
>Up above the sky was sunny and clear, but it was a false promise like most autumn days.
>It wouldn’t last.
>And it wouldn’t be that way ever again.
>One of youths many memorable summers are over.
>Pumpkin took the bow slowly and threw it in her bag.
>False promises.
/
>They delayed the opening of the bakery just to take the three of you to school for the first time.
>”My little cupcakes heading off to school,” Mr. Cake ruffled their mane and Pumpkin laughed while Pound looked annoyed.
>Mrs. Cake let him have his moment, “are you excited, Anon?”
>You opened your mouth to answer.
>”Are you kidding?”
>Mom jumped right in Mrs. Cake’s face, “Nonny can’t wait!”
>She hopped around the five of you faster than you could keep up; she surprised her targets easily that way.
>”I can just see it now, all the friends you’re gonna make, the fun you’re gonna have, the important stuff you’ll learn…”
>Mom skidded to you like a baseball player to the home plate and whispered in your ear, “The learning part is boring, but important. Don’t tell Pound and Pumpkin.”
>You were about to agree before she winked at you and sped off somewhere.
>Where did she?
>”Come on you guys!”
>Mom stands at the end of the street and tries to flag you all down.
>Pound zips past you with his tiny little wings working hard again as if they were never sprained.
>He peers over his shoulder and smirks, “last one there is a rotten egg!”
>Pumpkin shouted some remarks and ran forward and you followed.
>Through the town parents were escorting their children to school in pairs and you all got looks as the four of you laughed and ran through the streets like maniacs.
>The morning sun shone through the buildings when it could and the bobbing of your vision made the rays blind you at times when you went up.
>But a strange sight would enter when you came down.
>As your mom ran forward, and she looked back and told you to follow with a gesture of calling and a smile, and the twins ran by your side, amidst familiar cheers and laughs.
>There were unfamiliar ones.
>And soon children from all over were running to the school with the four of you.
>Siblings challenged each other in the streets, parents yelled out for them to slow down, there were laughs, there were cheers, and suddenly at that moment school seemed right.
>With the kids rushing forward as fast as they can.
>And in front of the sun was a humble building that chimed as the bell was struck and the echo reverberated through the ground that got trampled by a dozen hooves that would do it again soon.
\
>A slow crawl was a good way to describe the walk to school that day.
>Every movement felt terse and heavy.
>As the three of you passed you noticed familiar fillies and colts whispering to each other.
>And the familiar bell towered building made your insides shake when it came to view.
>There they were.
>Three fillies that stood at the front steps.
>They watched your every move with a strict and familiar analysis.
>The sun is behind the grey clouds yet you can feel an intense heat clinging to your body, making your back sweaty and itch with the cloth sticking to the skin.
>Of the three fillies one approaches first with a smug smile, “So I heard that you ran out of the forest screaming like little babies.”
>Her name is Aloe Century.
>”I really thought a wild animal like you would do well in the forest Anon, but I guess I was wrong.”
>The three other fillies behind her snickered away, watching like a movie.
>Other children were watching from respective corners of your eye.
>You could feel the weight of their gazes pressing on your chest; the strain of your heart as it ached and throbbed like a wound.
>And in front of you like a knife stood Aloe Century; with her light coat and dark green mane.
>With glaring eyes that pierced you like cactus tips; baby blue full of hatred.
>Pound stepped in front of her and stared her down with his back arced, and soon their gazes were locked with contempt.
>The other kids were all waiting for something to happen.
>For one or the other to scream or spit or fight.
>Then Aloe opened her mouth and the front door to the schoolhouse opened and everypony scattered while the three of you stayed anchored with shock.
>Cheerilee scanned the scene and raised an eyebrow, knowing she had stopped something.
>”Pound, Pumpkin, and Anon, I’d like to see the three of you before class please.”
>You all looked up at her confused; Aloe and her friends sighed and smirked at you as they went.
>Pound hung his head and walked up the steps and you all did the same, shying away from Cheerilee’s glare as you stepped into the silent, cold, sterile classroom.
>Cheerilee shuts the door behind her; stops.
>She leans when it’s closed, her hoof still on the knob.
>Her back shivers and you hear a sniffle.
>”I’m so glad you’re all safe.”
>She turned and looked at the three of you with tear-blinded eyes.
>”Don’t ever do something that dangerous again while I’m teaching you.”
>The three of you looked at each other with a solemn agreement, having heard variations of this the night before.
>You walked forward with arms outstretched and Cheerilee readily embraced as she sobbed with shame and relief.
>Somewhere from down deep you felt an impulse to say something.
“It’s okay, Cheerilee.”
>You rubbed her back and gently directed her to face you.
“We’re alright. You can smile and be happy.”
>Pumpkin nodded, “We’re sorry we worried you and everypony else.”
>Pound was able to crack his moody exterior and offer her a sincere apology too.
>”You all have very good parents,” Cheerilee said. “Don’t make them worry about you.”
>She took a deep breath and soon her voice was chipper and shining again as she opened the door and called the kids in for another school day.
/
>Cheerilee nearly dropped her coffee mug when she opened the schoolhouse doors for the first time of that new year.
>A crowd of stampeding, cheering, wild children running towards you could probably do that to a teacher.
>Mom bounced up to her, “Say hello to your new class, Cheerilee!”
>Cheerilee moved and the two ponies directed the children through the door and into the classroom.
>Inside was everything you could want; crayons to color with, punch and cookies, books to read.
>”Settle down please everypony.” Cheerilee said. “Please settle down and come say goodbye.”
>Goodbye?
>What is this lady talking about?
>Soon all the children began to notice the solemn and prepared faces of the parents who were lined up in the front.
>Together the two shores of youth facing adulthood and adults doing the same slowly drifted towards each other; tears and sniffles and reassuring gestures and speeches sounded like the crashing of waves on the shoreline.
>Mom meekly smiled.
>You began to tear up as well as the prospect of her leaving finally sunk into your heart.
>Her hoof reached around your head you heard her heartbeat; fast and worried, but calming all the same.
>”Don’t worry, Nonny.”
>You shook your head against her soft chest and it smeared your tears on your face.
>”I know you’re scared.” She pushed your chin up and you were surprised to see her crying too.
>With a wiggly smile she said, “But I’ll always be with you.”
>Then she gently touched your chest and it tickled with warmth.
>”You don’t need to be scared, but it’s okay that you are.”
>”I love you. And I’ll be here when you get out.”
\
>Images have a way of making grand things look tiny and un-majestic when scaled down.
>No matter how hard you try you can’t seem to capture the grandness of the great mountain with the wondrous smoke ring round it, or the hundreds of trees, the ghastly drop.
>You look at your humble little drawing and can’t help but feel that something is missing.
>The eraser smudges aren’t helping either as your claws begin to sweat from all your focus.
>Cheerilee keeps on teaching but it doesn’t have to do with drawing.
>You wonder if Cheerilee knows anything about drawing.
>Pound is staring out the window with his head down; the birds chirp as the sun shines blindingly in.
>Pumpkin – her usual studios self – seemed to be having a bit of trouble keeping up with Cheerilee.
>Books and papers were strewn about her desk.
>Occasionally a paper would slip off and she’d flail to get it.
>Her pencil scribbled furiously and you brought your attention back to your drawing.
>Suddenly a bright light fills your eyes and you wince and make some shade with your eyes.
>You peer around your claw and see Aloe snickering at you and holding a metal ruler.
>She turns it and the light shines in your eyes again.
>Her friends share their approval, but Cheerilee clears her throat and soon their mischievous grins drop and they quickly put their muzzles into their books.
>You caught a glance between Pumpkin and Cheerilee and then they acted so natural.
>Pound continued staring into the light.
>The sun rising up into the sky; almost at the top.
>The sun?
>The light?
>You look back at your drawing and realize that you haven’t put the sun in yet.
>The memory of Pound’s glistening mane and coat come back.
>The sun slowly disappearing under the great mountain.
>That’s what you want in this drawing.
>After all.
>How is anypony supposed to see the mountain without the sun?
>You took your pencil again and got to work.
>Occasionally you looked out the window with Pound and waited for inspiration.
/
>Cheerilee smiled, “Is everypony feeling better now?”
>All the sniffling children clutched at their individual stuffed teddy bears and some nodded.
>”All right then. Now I want to get to know all of you, but first let me introduce myself.”
>She grabbed some chalk and wrote her name on the board.
>”My name is Cheerilee. If you have any problems, questions, or just want somepony to talk to, all you have to do is call my name.
>”Now I’d like to get to know all of you, but first I want to show you something.”
>She went over to one side of the room and stood by some small shelves low to the ground.
>”These are your cubbies. Each of you will get one of your own little spaces where all of your books, and art supplies, and anything else you can think of can go.”
>Looking in the small spaces you noticed there was something in each one.
>”If you take a closer look you’ll see that your cubbies each already have something already in them. Here is how we are going to decide who gets which cubby.”
>She grinned at the tiny crowd of students and stood between you and the cubbies.
>”I would like each of you to come up to the front of the class and introduce yourself. All you have to do is say your name and something interesting about yourself. Then I’ll show you which cubby is yours.”
>”One more thing. You may have noticed that there is already something in your cubbies.”
>She reached back and grabbed what looked like a piece of taffy.
>”There is already candy in your cubbies, and it’s yours for the taking only after you’ve introduced yourself. The first students to do so will get the first cubbies.”
>”And the first cubbies have the most candy in them. Now, who would like to go first?”
>Cheerilee’s smile increased the anxiousness felt by all the tiny ponies, who were all sneaking glances at each other and wondering which one of them would take the first step into foreign land.
>After all, many of them were still clutching onto their teddy bears.
>You suddenly felt a bit aware of the stares again and you hunkered down your head.
>Next to you was Pound.
>The oldest.
>Teddy bearless (as of a minute ago anyway).
>He smirked and –
>”I wanna go first!”
>Everypony looked at the little filly; dusty brown coat and green mane, with her nose up and her grin big and her eyes leering at the crowd with a sort of judgment.
>Those eyes were up as well; specifically so they could look down.
>Cheerilee smiled, “Alright then. Come up and introduce yourself to the class please. All you have to do is say your name and tell us a little bit about yourself.”
>The filly walked up to the cubby with the most candy and stood by it.
>”My name is, Ambur.”
>Cheerilee was about to speak some encouraging words but Amber seemed more than happy to talk about herself.
>”As you can see I already have my cutie mark.”
>She did indeed.
>A big brown ball with hooked spines sticking out adorned her flank.
>She had however decorated her flank with glitter and cosmetics to make it look more appealing than it really was.
>Cheerilee congratulated her on such an early accomplishment and Ambur agreed.
>”Yeah I always knew I’d get it before most other ponies got theirs. Mommy and Daddy tell me that I’m a rare flower and that I should get anything I want.”
>”Ambur, how exactly did you get your cutie mark?”
>”I’m glad you asked. Me and my family went on a cruise during the summer.”
>She stopped and scanned the crowd expectantly.
>When nopody responded she huffed and held her head high.
>”I bet none of you have ever even been on a cruise. I go on them all the time.”
>What is a cruise?
>Maybe mom knows.
>”Well Sapphire Shores was on that cruise with me.”
>There were some whispers and gasps.
>Pumpkin was leaning forward now and you raised an eyebrow.
>Pound scoffed and when you looked at him he smirked.
>”Girl music.”
>You nodded and Cheerilee spoke.
>”That must have been very exciting.”
>”Sure was. I got her autograph and everything.”
>Pumpkin eyed her enviously, “She’s so lucky.”
>Pound scoffed and soon the twins were giving each other annoyed glares.
>”I got to talk to her privately too, even though she didn’t want anypony on board to disturb her, she just had to meet me after my daddy insisted on her doing it because he owns the cruise line.
>”And after I met her and got her autograph I looked down and saw that I had my cutie mark too. As usual, I got everything I could’ve wanted and more.”
>Ambur took the candy out of her cubby and went back to sit with the whispering children.
>She never regarded them, or Cheerilee who had half-heartedly thanked her for volunteering so quickly.
>”Alright students, who would like to go next?”
>The only she answer she got was silence and some nervous arm rubs.
>Pound nudged your side and motioned for you to go up.
“Why?” You whispered.
>”You gotta go sometime.”
“I don’t wanna go.”
>Pound cleared his throat and then quickly acted surprised.
>Cheerilee’s eyes met yours.
>”How about you?”
>No thank you.
>”Don’t be shy. All you have to do is introduce yourself.”
>Cheerilee sweetly smiled.
>Pound motioned again.
>”Just do it quickly, Anon.” Pumpkin whispered.
>You shut your eyes tightly.
>’I know you’re scared.’
>Just do it quickly.
>’I’ll always be with you.’
>Get it over with.
>’I’ll be here when you get out.’
>You opened them and saw the curious looks of the children before you.
>Trying to figure out who and what you were.
>You swallowed hard not knowing the answer.
>”You can do it.” You looked at Cheerilee. “Just tell the class your name and a little about yourself.”
>Shivers shook your body all over, and looking again at the expectant stares you tried your best to find your voice.
“Uh…”
>Smooth.
>Darn it. Where was your mother?
>Why couldn’t she be with you right now?
>You look among the stares and try to find a familiar gaze.
>A soft gaze that could make you feel good about all this.
>But all you saw were confused and aggravated faces.
>”Please sit down and wait your turn young colt.”
>Cheerilee said this, Pumpkin groaned and got up.
>And next to you was a familiar smirk.
>With his toothy grin he fluttered up and hovered round your shoulders gesturing at you and looking at the faces with confidence.
>”This is my little brother, Anon.”
>Some of the kids pushed their faces forward as if they were looking for your hidden hooves.
>”Pound sit down before we get in trouble.”
>He flew to her and ruffled her mane, “And this is my sister, Pumpkin. She’s a bit of a baby sometimes.”
>Pumpkin scrunched her nose and Pound descended and stood in the middle of the two of you and the crowd.
>”And I’m, Pound.”
>He stretched his wings and licked his lips.
>”I could go on all day about how awesome I am.”
>In one swift motion he lowered his front forearms and launched off them like a springboard, soon he was upside down in the air and he opened his wings and used them to catch air and glide his head away from smashing into the ground.
>Like a clock does during the course of a day he spun around, and landed on his hooves again to the chimes and cheers of the kids.
>”But I think it goes without saying.”
>He walked over to his sister and smiled and wrapped around her head with his forearm.
>”Every time my sister says I do something wrong then that means I know I’m still cool.”
>Pumpkin smirked and pushed him, “You’re such a dork.”
>Cheerilee was entranced now, and did not care that earlier she had asked your brother to wait his turn.
>Pound gestured to you, “But I want to talk about how cool my brother is.”
>In an instant you felt the stares and your stomach got butterflies.
>You looked at Pound – who must have noticed your distress – cause for a brief second his cocky smile disappeared and he looked you up and down.
>Then he caught you and gave a confident wink and soon it was back.
>You knew things were going to be okay.
>Still though, nagging doubts and insecurities hung your head down.
>”My brother Anon is a human. The only other humans that have ever been seen were in another world according to our friend, Twilight.”
>They keep looking at you; not knowing what to make of this tall two legged thing before them.
>”That means that my brother is… “
>He knocked on his head a few times, looking for the right words.
>A gasp came when he found them, “That means my brother is awesome!”
>The class expressed their interest with hums and Pound’s pride was swelled and he puffed his chest out as if he was on display.
>Pumpkin sighed, “What my dorky feather-brained brother actually means is that Anon is unique.”
>Cheerilee gave a Pumpkin a quizzical look, “My, that’s certainly a big word for your age.”
>”Well,” Pumpkin shrugged, “That’s what Twilight always says.”
>He’s not different.
>He’s unique.
>”What’s wrong with awesome?” Said Pound, “I like awesome.”
>Pumpkin puffed her cheeks, “I never said he wasn’t awesome. He can be both.”
>The argument then began and Cheerilee was given a crash course on the attitudes of the twins.
>You brought your claws up and watched them glide along like waves as you moved them.
>The kids in the crowed uttered various noises of interests and your first instinct was to hide your claws and make the stares go away.
>But instead you wondered if maybe they just wanted to see them.
>You held them out and made them dance and the kids fidgeted forward and cocked their heads and stared.
>Then as if there was a seismic disturbance in the sea a wave of question all came at once and turned into a roar of chaos.
>What are those?
>Where are your hooves?
>Are you really family?
>Why are you wearing clothes?
>Where’s your muzzle?
>What are you?
>Cheerilee called for quiet – numerous times before it was so – and said that there’d be plenty of opportunities to ask you questions later.
>”Since the three of you all came up at once you’ll have to figure out which of you gets the most candy.”
>The three of you looked at each other and you shrugged your shoulders.
>Pumpkin put a hoof to her chin, “I can probably think of a way to divide it amongst ourselves equally once we get it counted out.”
>Pound smirked, “Are you kidding? We’re on a roll here. We gotta end big.”
>He turned to the crowd, “I forgot to add something about us. Anon grab the candy, all of it.”
>You grabbed the candy out of the three cubbies and held it in a bowl you made with your shirt.
>”We live at Sugarcube Corner,” he said. “We already got all the candy we can eat.”
>The crowd voiced their approval and Pound reached under your bowl and pushed up until the candy had fallen to the floor.
>”So feel free to take some of our share when you come up. Consider it a gift from us to you.”
>Pound picked up a lollipop and tossed it onto the lap of a kid sitting in the front.
>And as if it was rehearsed the kid got up without hesitation and introduced himself to the class.
>Pound handed Cheerilee a piece of candy and she took it and saw that there were a dozen hooves reaching forward to her.
>The three of you sat back down; not unnoticed.
\
>”I don’t believe that you did it for no reason, as you put it.”
>Cheerilee’s gaze was strong, hard pressed, but Pound had gotten practice from last night and he knew how to rebuff her.
>He sat on the edge of his seat; his stare was in the bottom corner of his eye focused on the floor.
>The corners of his mouth never moved; no empathy, no sadness, understanding. He was blank.
>In the meantime you and Pumpkin sat just outside their bubble, but could still feel the heat.
>Pumpkin had started eating her donut that mom threw in, and the powdered sugar made it hard to see her freckles.
>”I also don’t believe that it was a dare either.”
>Cheerilee mimicked your brother a second before placing a hoof on his shoulder.
>Their eyes met and his brow loosed its stiffness.
>”I want to help.
>”You do know that I want to help, don’t you?”
>He sighed, “Yeah.”
>”Then why won’t you let me?”
>Silence; except for the laughter of children outside and more than likely the patting of running hooves.
>Pound was longing and you felt it, and you’re sure that at that moment you all did.
/
>The surprise of finding cupcakes in your lunches only helped to further the curiosity of the kids.
>They all huddled around the three of you and bombarded you with questions as if your three desks were some sort of platform for a speaker.
>You tried really hard to hide your discomfort, and the tops of your knees were hitting the desk making your legs feel cramped.
>Have you always lived at Sugarcube Corner?
>Pound held up his cupcake, “My mom and dad own the place. Can’t you tell?”
>Can you fly?
>”Yeah I can fly. I got wings don’t I? When I get done with flight camp I’ll be able to do barrel rolls and quadruple backflips too, like the Wonderbolts do.”
>Are you really brothers?
>”We’re both cool, there’s no way we couldn’t be.”
>You were really glad Pound was answering most of the questions.
>Can you use magic?
>Pumpkin sighed, “I could when I was a baby, but I’ve been having trouble since then. I’m going to an introductory magic course soon though in Canterlot.”
>The girls gasped and the boys wondered what was so special about Canterlot.
>Only one girl wasn’t impressed.
>A sneering face asked, “Have you ever met, Sapphire Shores?”
>”No,” said Pumpkin. “I wish I was that lucky.”
>”Well I’d be happy to tell anypony about how lucky I am. So who has questions for me?”
>Are you really from another world, Anon?
>Ambur’s eyes scanned the crowd to be met with their backs.
>Why are you wearing so much clothes?
>Her face grew red and her glare turned to confusion as she looked around for a hand out, for a pony to call for her attention.
>Do you have your cutie mark yet, Anon?
>When she never got it she stepped away and you didn’t see her again until the crowd dissipated.
>Do you guys get to eat all the treats you want?
>Pound finished his cupcake and smacked his lips.
>”We get to eat anything we can snag.”
>Pumpkin was looking off before she snapped out of a trance, “Anon is really good at sneaking stuff if we want some. A little pocket lint is a small sacrifice.”
>Mom always hides the cookie jar wherever it would be most surprising.
>One time it was in a wedding cake that ended up getting sent out for an order.
>That must’ve been some surprise for whoever went to cut the first piece.
>Pound nudged your side and he had a sneaky grin, a good indicator that he had an idea Pumpkin wasn’t going to like.
>”I just got a really good idea,” he whispered. “Everypony is going to love us after this.”
>You heard Pumpkin clear her throat and you saw she was giving your brother a suspicious look.
>Pound raised an eyebrow, “What?”
>Pumpkin’s eyes only narrowed more.
>Your brother was a terrible actor.
>Cheerilee gave you all one more task before the day was over.
>She laid a piece of paper before every student and you each got a box of crayons.
>The task was to write your name on the paper so you could hang it over the cubby like a nametag.
>You looked at the white sheet before you and the endless possibilities of the colored crayons.
>Cheerilee went from student to student when necessary to help those who were having trouble with their names; this was the most important job of a teacher after all.
>Pound – who could care less about writing his name – was drawing some kind of red, orange and blue zig zag patterns that came from straight lines at the edges of the paper before colliding into cacophonous swirls of pastiche bravado.
>Pumpkin wrote her name slowly and carefully, taking time to make sure her lines were straight and bold orange while coloring the inside lightly with a smooth blue.
>You had no idea what to draw and you reached out for a crayon and sat there, occasionally placing the tip to the paper only for it to linger and eventually return back as you pondered.
>Finally you decided to write your name to start, and you did it exactly the way Spike had showed you.
>With the crayon between your thumb and fore finger you danced on the paper with your wrist as lead and wrote out an “A”.
>You then discarded the crayon and grabbed another of a different color and wrote out an “N”.
>Soon you were lost in this pattern, and the title that emerged read “Anon Pie”, as you had not yet learnt how to spell Anonymous.
>You briefly considered writing “Nonny Pie”, but Pound told you it was too girly and you shamed yourself into the alternative.
>But it was just as well, because you weren’t sure how to spell Nonny anyway.
>Though each letter was in a different color Pound said you should make it look cooler, Pumpkin agreed that you should draw some more around your name.
>You grabbed another crayon and went back into your pondering position with the crayon resting on your temple.
>What else was there to add?
>”That looks very nice, Anon.”
>Behind you peering over your shoulder was Cheerilee with her approving smile.
>”Are you finished?”
>You looked at the various tags the other kids were making and saw all the squiggles and stars and primitive animals that adorned their names.
>And you felt inadequate.
“No, I want to do more.”
>”Alright, but you remember that you only need to write your name, and you’ve already done a good job at that.”
>Cheerilee walked away and studied the names of others and left you to ponder again.
>Every time you pressed your crayon to the page it felt wrong, like trying to put mint in a vanilla cupcake.
>Your stomach felt empty and your mouth watered at the thought of a cupcake and you cursed yourself for letting Pound eat yours.
>Pumpkin kept telling you that he wouldn’t actually die if he didn’t get two cupcakes, but you didn’t want to take the risk.
>You looked at his vigilante visage as he smeared his nametag with flames and hoped that he was honored by your sacrifice.
>Because you were gonna die now that you didn’t get that cupcake.
>Your stomach growled again and you suppressed a groan.
>Pound suddenly decided that just setting his name a blaze wasn’t enough and he grabbed another red crayon and began scribbling all over the paper.
>Happy with the outcome of his nametag he smiled and you saw bits of pink in his teeth from the cupcake.
>”If anypony needs me feel free to ask,” said Cheerilee. “Your parents will be invited to class on Friday and I want you all to be happy with your nametags when they’re seen.”
>Mom is gonna see this.
>You can’t let your nametag look bad when compared to everypony else’s.
>But when your crayon touches the page you still don’t know what to draw.
>Your stomach writhes again and you rub it.
>It would be easier to think if you ate that cupcake.
>Just thinking about it is driving you crazy.
>All pink with hearts decorated all around it…
>Wait a second.
>You remember something that Mr. Cake said and it all starts to come together now.
>Those hearts are what decorate the cupcake.
>They’re there so you know it’s a Hearts and Hooves day cupcake.
>You scan the cup for a pink crayon and frown when you see that there aren’t any left.
>Nopony is holding one in their mouths either.
>On the wood floor below you see hooves dangling under the shadow of the table and various bits and wrappers of candy, and some broken crayons that weren’t pink.
>You had given up hope before realizing that you were already holding what must be the last pink crayon in the room.
>Looking down at your name tag you noticed that despite Pound’s protests that it would look “girly” the letters of your name all shared a pink border that wrapped around their other respective colors, sort of like a pink coating.
>You don’t even remember doing this but you’re relieved when you press your crayon to the paper and feel your heartbeat travelling through your arm.
>A strange sensation you’ve never really felt before; a projection onto the page.
>”I’m finished!”
>The shrill voice belonged to Ambur, who held her nametag up high as if to throw it over the sun and make everypony see only it.
>Cheerilee looked at it once and then gasped, “This is in cursive.”
>Ambur smirked, “Daddy told me that I’d be the only one in class who knew how to write like that.”
>”Well it certainly is impressive,” Cheerilee said. “You have very neat mouthwriting, Ambur. I’m sure your parents will be very proud when they see this.”
>”Yeah well,” The little rich girl stuttered.
>Her head turned slightly and she looked down at the ground she walked on.
>It was the same ground that everypony else was accustomed to.
>Cheerilee slid Ambur's nametag into the plastic sleeve above her cubby and when she turned around and saw the little rich girl looking down she couldn't help but study her.
>Cheerilee put a hoof on the young girls shoulder.
>Then the rich girl smiled; but not quickly.
>It was small and genuine.
>”Do you really like it?”
>For a moment they shared some closeness, and you saw genuine sweetness from the girl with the most candy.
>”I think it’s wonderful, Ambur.”
>But her eyes shot open as she thought of something and she brushed Cheerilee’s hoof away.
>”Of course it is. I knew it was.”
>Ambur looked up at her nametag as it hung alone and unique and she frowned.
>”I’m honestly very impressed,” Cheerilee quickly added. “And I know your parents will be to.”
>Cheerilee reached out to comfort the young girl again but Ambur turned away.
>"Well they better like it."
>She looked at the children and made sure not to throw away her forced glare.
>"I didn't learn it for no reason."
>And the rich girl returned to her seat quickly and left Cheerilee alone to contemplate the young girl’s future.
>You watched as the rich girl stopped just shy of her seat and raised her eyebrow at some unknown attraction.
>”What’s with you?” She said to what you figured was the chair.
>As it turned out you saw something move in your vision, slightly behind Ambur’s candy mountain and slightly under the table.
>You heard a shushing noise and Ambur sneered, “Who do you think you are? Get out from under my seat.”
>The shushing sound came again and other kids were now slowly moving their attention away from their names and studying the events.
>Ambur opened her mouth but a yellow hoof reached up and pulled her down to the ground.
>The kids all looked at each other while you ducked under the table to see what was going on.
>Underneath the table in the dim was a light yellow filly with her hoof in Ambur’s mouth.
>Ambur was struggling in the pony’s grasp but the yellow one was practically ignoring her as she peeked out at the classroom from Ambur’s vacant seat.
>”You,” she shivered, “He didn’t see us did…”
>She sees you looking and her pupils shrink to pinpricks and she lets go of the rich girl and locks her intense worried gaze with yours.
>You instinctively reach out to her.
“Are you okay?”
>The yellow pony gasps and backs away quickly with her hooves scuttling along on the floor and her back hitting the chair and knocking it over with a dull clang.
>You got up and watched as the yellow filly ran out the door of the classroom and into the outside accompanied by the snickering and the confused stares and the frantic calling and galloping of Cheerilee.
>Pound was one of the ponies in hysterics with his hooves banging on the table and tears forming in the corners of his eyes as his breath shortened.
>Pumpkin gave you a look, “What do you think that was about?”
>You think back to the incident and you remember the fear that crossed her face when she saw you.
>”She looked like she was scared of something.”
>The way those pupils shrank and how she backed away with an abandon like she had seen a monster.
“I don’t know.”
>Pumpkin shrugged and went back to her nametag while you replayed the incident over and over.
>She was scared of something.
>You looked down at your fingers as they twitched and swam with your commands; the lines on your palms all crossed and creviced like an arid landscape.
>That’s when you knew your nametag was finished.
>You sat down in your seat and patiently waited for Cheerilee to come back so you could tell her you were finished.
>Though you were not looking forward to seeing that little yellow filly again.
>Down on the paper your name was clear as day in various colors all coated in a pink, but it was written, and not designed.
>Not wanting to look at it anymore you got up and decided to put it in your cubby.
>And when you reached your own little space you realized something.
>You stood on your tippy-toes and slid your nametag into the little plastic sleeve.
>Behind your back out of the corner of your eye you could see the stares, and definitely feel them boring into you.
>You shuffled back to your seat and began to notice the corners of the children’s eyes as they looked away when you noticed and blinked rapidly and focused on their names.
>The questions from earlier began to fill your mind again as you sunk into your chair and stared off into space, hoping there was room for you, but then your knee hit the bottom of the table and you shot up.
>They bothered you more than ever now, the stares, the questions, but what bothered you most was your mother’s stumbling and avoidance of the topics whenever you brought them up.
>As children we believe that grown-ups know everything there is to know, and that everything they say is true, even the lies.
>But still, there is always one lie that never sticks with us.
>Why did it have to be that one?
>There was free time for anypony who finished; unlimited sheets of paper and crayons to color with until the day ended.
>Though you felt a strong desire to draw again you looked at everypony else drawing and you hesitated at the thought of using your hands right now.
>You kept out of sight and watched as the rest of the names slowly began appearing over their cubbies and you looked at yours next to the intuitively creative designs of everypony else’s.
>Those jagged and scribbled masterpieces of messes all surrounding the simple piece that yours was.
>It only made it stand out even more.
>You were still thinking about it when you all walked out and saw that your mother was not there to greet you on the steps outside.
>Pound and Pumpkin were arguing about something and a small crowd was following the three of you.
>”Don’t listen to my brother,” Pumpkin addressed. “We didn’t even open the bakery today.”
>”What are you talking about?” Pound said. “It was just delayed. There’ll be cupcakes, trust me. Free too.”
>The kids following cheered and Pound strutted forward with a big grin while Pumpkin looked on annoyed and you walked with your hands in your pockets and your head sunk in your shoulders.
>”Pound stop it. You’re going to get us in trouble with mom and dad.”
>”No I’m not. They’re throwing out the old cupcakes today. Come on, there’s no way this could backfire.” He looked at you, “Back me up on this, Anon.”
>You looked at them both and shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
>They went back at it.
>Today was the day the Cakes usually threw out their old goods, and Pumpkin knew this.
>You were pretty sure that she was just on edge because you had a crowd of kids following your brother and expecting free cupcakes.
>She probably knew this was going to happen the second she saw him whispering something to you.
>You didn’t really care too much though.
>When you came out you expected to see your mother waiting for you, and she wasn’t.
>You both shared each other’s sadness earlier, and you thought you had both reached an understanding; a telepathy.
>But maybe it wasn’t there.
>Then you all turned a corner and saw a big group of ponies that included her, and she gasped, that sad wiggly smile came back and she grabbed you with tears in her eyes.
>”How was your day?” She asked as she nuzzled your neck. “Did you make any new friends? Did you have fun? Did you like the lunch I made you? Were you nice to, Cheerliee?”
>You rubbed her soft chest with your cheek, mother’s heartbeat, and you squeezed her tight around her neck with your arms.
>It didn’t occur to the two of you that everypony else was aghast, confused, and one in particular was annoyed at the situation.
>”I tried to stop him dad.”
>Pound flew up to Mr. Cake’s head, “Dad we need the cupcakes you threw out today. The trash wasn’t wet again today, right?”
>As Mr. Cake tried to process what was going on Mrs. Cake eased Pound away from the perplexed stallion and the other adults behind them greeted their lost children, the new parents cried tears of joy, and the experienced parents went straight for the ears.
>What were you thinking young colt?
>It wasn’t our fault.
>You had me worried to death Lily.
>Sorry momma.
>I thought I told you to wait at the steps for me to get you.
>Mr. Cake’s face drooped and he looked at Pound and just shook his head when he saw the confusion on the boy’s face.
>Well we wanted to get free cupcakes, so we followed that kid from Sugarcube Corner out the back door.
>”Oh dearie,” Mrs. Cake cooed to her son, “We closed early to come get you.”
>”Yeah but…” Pound kicked the ground. “What about the cupcakes?”
>”We already donated those to the shelters sweetie.”
>Are you telling me that you nearly scared me to death over some cupcakes?!
>But mom they were free.
>Why didn’t Cheerilee stop you? Oh dear, I knew I should’ve homeschooled you.
>We went when she wasn’t looking.
>”I’m sorry everypony.” Mr. Cake said feebly, clearly embarrassed as he stuttered.
>Mrs. Cake put a reassuring hoof on his shoulder.
>”We’re sorry. We didn’t mean for our son to cause all this trouble. Is everypony safe?”
>The adults all seemed to nod and the tension eased as the air sighed all around you.
>In your own little corner, with you still clutched to mom’s chest, the four of you exchanged nervous glances with each other.
>Pumpkin, not one for “I told you so’s”, looked at her brother with sympathy; eyes focused but done softly, and a frown filled with worry.
>Your brother’s eyes had shrunk to pinpricks and he trembled but clutched his body with tension in every muscle to hide it.
>He still looked confused, flustered, and angry, but mostly scared, when the Cakes told him to apologize to everypony for doing such a “thoughtless and brash” thing.
>Pound shuffled forward, stood between his parents who made him look up when he spoke, and he said, “I don’t see why I have to apologize for just doing what everypony told me to do.”
\
>”Are you crazy?”
>Your brother’s low head but straight gaze showed that he was only determined; though they’re kind of the same thing.
>He walked out the front door of home, only saying that he wanted you to go with him, and didn’t look back.
>”We should do what the note says and stay here until they come back home.”
>At this he did shoot her a glare over his shoulder before giving you a nod with his head and continuing on.
>Pumpkin sighed, “He’s just going to make things worse for himself.”
>You read the note again, written in ink, ‘We had to go out. Stay home. We will be back in time for diner. – mom and dad.’
>And then in pink crayon, ‘I’m planning Pound a party Nonny. I know he’ll probably be too much of a grumpy gus to read this, just try your best to make him smile. I know you can do it. – Mommy Pie.’
>The note found its way in your pocket and you took a step out and looked back at Pumpkin’s bewilderment.
>”Anon you’ve got to be kidding me. You know you’re grounded, right?”
>Yeah, mom wouldn’t be happy if she knew you were disobeying her like this.
“We might not get caught.” You shrugged, “Sometimes we get away with it.”
>You forced a smile and saw her visibly draw back with a confused expression.
“You should come with.”
>She hesitated, her eyes darted around the room and she pursed her lips.
>”I don’t know, Anon. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“I want you to.”
>You looked back and saw your brother was soldiering on and almost out of sight.
“Come on,” you encourage as you run out the door. “We can’t lose him.”
>You ran forward with your brother bouncing in your vision as your feet hit the dirt, the air whizzing past your ears and hitting your face.
>And when you neared him you heard the door shut.
>Pumpkin’s mane flowed behind her as it was pushed by the wind and you hadn’t seen those orange curls bounce like that since the Running of the Leaves.
/
>There was a strange tension now as you walked home that you rarely ever felt when you were all together.
>Maybe sometimes it was there whenever the three of you were being too loud in a restaurant and you got pulled outside by Mr. Cake and mom, but that was the only time you can recall.
>It was as if you were all walking on tight ropes focused only forward because being playful and distracting meant death.
>Nopony was talking, and this was something your mom never liked.
>And just as expected when you looked at her you noticed her in a contemplative, if somewhat panicked, mood.
>Her eyes were darting all over, not quickly, just in a scanning and analytical manner, taking in her surroundings and weighing the options.
>In the comic books you read sometimes there is a genius character who does many a fantastical mathematic equation to pull off impossible feats of precision and acrobatics with objects to save the day.
>You always figured that your mother did this as well in these situations where her eyes wandered and she looked focused, but instead of calculating odds and physics she was weighing emotions and effectiveness of good deeds and cheer.
>That’s just who she is.
>She dots the tittles of the ‘I’s’ on her written name with a smiley face.
>You all turned a corner and when your mom’s gaze fixated on something her smile emerged and brightened the area.
>”Why don’t we go there?”
>She pointed to a confectionery that had never crossed any of your minds before, called ‘The Horse’s Water’.
>The house was tall and cylindrical, painted with red stripes vertically going from the ground to the roof of the two story building, and the shingles of the roof were painted to look like foam and the chimney was a bendy straw.
>Mr. Cake grimaced and spoke flatly, “A soda fountain?”
>”Dearie, I don’t think –“
>”Well if that’s how you feel,” you mom chirped as she grabbed you and led you along. “I guess Nonny and I will just have to enjoy our yummyriffic floats by ourselves while you two head back and turn on all the ovens, get out the pans, set the table, and do the dishes.”
>She said this with no spite, she never talked that way, and she began to hum a tune as the two of you neared the door.
>”Don’t worry, Nonny.” She whispered to you. “I give ‘em a minute tops.”
>She winked playfully at you and you believed her.
>It was hard not to sometimes.
\
>”A milkshake?”
>Pumpkin gave your brother an exasperated look as he sucked down his chocolate milkshake huddled down with his cheeks concave in his suction.
>”You want to get in more trouble just so you could get a milkshake?”
>Pound’s eyes shrunk to pinpricks and he grit his teeth and groaned and held his head.
>Pumpkin rolled her eyes and looked at you, “I can relate.”
>You weren’t sure what she meant so you started eating your ice cream faster.
>Pound kept writhing in his seat and you all heard a familiar chuckle, “Tongue on the roof of your mouth, Pound.”
>There was the proprietor coming out of the back room, Caramel Drizzle, with his pudgy smile and curly mustache, cleaning a glass and laughing at your brother like he always did when Pound got brain-freeze.
>”I don’t know why I always got to remind you.” He said. “Every time you come here too.”
>Pumpkin sighed, “It’s cause he’s a rock.”
>Caramel laughed, “Well either way he likes ice cream. So he’s a friend of mine.” And he grabbed the empty bowls and cups in front of the three of you and filled up a frosty glass with his soda gun.
>Your brother got up and rubbed his head and winced, “What’s a rock? What do you mean I’m a rock?”
“She means you’re tough.”
>Pound smirked, “That ain’t it.”
>Pumpkin went to say something before Caramel interrupted, “You’d have to be tough to survive being in the Everfree for as long as you two were.”
>He placed two root beer floats before you and your brother, “Those are free. All you gotta do is promise that you’ll never do something like that again.”
>You and Pound went through the motions and Caramel raised a bushy eyebrow at Pumpkin, “They’ve done this before, haven’t they?”
>Pumpkin smirked this time, “More than once,” and gave Pound a look that made him scrunch his nose and ruffle his wings.
>Caramel hummed and shook his head, “Well just don’t do it again you two. Your parents don’t need the grief. If not for them then how about for me? I didn’t exactly like spending my evening looking for two of my favorite customers.”
>A scoop of vanilla plopped into a large frosty glass, larger than yours anyway, and found its way in front of Pumpkin as the little sweet bubbles frothed over the glass and onto the bright red counter.
>”That’s for you by the way. Free of course. You know why.”
>Pumpkin thanked Caramel, and before he went to the back again you and Pound quickly yelled thanks as well, since you had not done so earlier.
>Then you saw the look of resentment on Pound’s face as he watched Pumpkin drink from her oversized float.
>He looked at what she had, and then looked at his own, and he groaned loudly and got out of his seat.
>”Grab our drinks, Anon. Let’s go.”
>Pumpkin gave him a queer look as grabbed the drinks, “What’s with you?”
>Your brother didn’t say anything, and didn’t acknowledge her, as he walked towards the other end of the bar.
>”What’s the deal?”
>You meekly looked over your shoulder and saw her approach.
>”Pound? Anon?”
>Her voice at that moment was like being alone but hearing steps.
>Pound breathed a big sigh and trembled.
>”Why are we moving?”
>He turned and glared her down, “Who said we?!”
>Pumpkin backed away a bit as her brother flared his nostrils, “It was only supposed to be me and Anon. I didn’t want you to come with. Who told you to come with?
>”You think just because you’re such a goody two hooves everypony should like you. That might work on ponies like mom and dad, and Cheerilee, and Carmel, but it doesn’t work on me.”
>Orange curls bobbing up and down in a race the three of you invented in the shiny hot sun, and again moments earlier where she was brightest in the overcast. And the night’s confessions before.
>Pumpkin backed away, her forearm was over her chest and frustrated tears were forming.
>”Why don’t you just go home and wait for mom and dad to come back. Leave us alone.”
>Everypony in the establishment was looking at the three of you now, hushed whispers accompanying their corner glances.
>Your brother ignored it all, and turned away.
>”Let’s finish our floats, Anon.”
>You tapped his shoulder.
“Pound that was too much.”
>He gave you an incredulous look, “Since when are you on her side? She got you in trouble too ya know?”
>You rubbed the back of your head and choked some nervous response.
>”And cause of her I’m getting sent to flight school. I don’t want to go back there.” He smiled and slugged your shoulder, “How am I supposed to spend time with you if I’m in Cloudsdale?”
>”You know what, Pound? You’re a jerk.”
>”You’re still here.” He said this nonchalantly, but Pumpkin’s angry, tear stricken face ruined his bravado.
>Pumpkin prodded his chest, “I just wanted to spend some time with you before you left.”
>Pound’s mouth was slightly open and he
>Snot was beginning to run freely down her nose and she sucked it up, but it was clear that she was having trouble talking.
>She wanted to talk more but it all came out in hiccups and she turned away and rushed for the door, “I hope you never come back.”
>You and Pound exchanged worried glances and he had rings under his eyes.
>Then he looked off somewhere
>He ran after her, “Pumpkin, wait!”
>When he caught up he tried to put a hoof on her shoulder but she brushed it away.
>”I didn’t’ know you weren’t gonna tell.”
>She wasn’t listening and kept moving.
>He jumped in front of her and stopped her from advancing.
>”Come on, Pumpkin. You know I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
>”Move.” She said coldly as she sidestepped him and pushed him away when he tried to block again.
>He stumbled back a bit before springing forward and getting in her way again.
>”Pumpkin just –“
>”Just leave me alone!”
>She tried to push him again but he grabbed her hoof and they began grappling with each other.
>They butted their heads together and now Pound sported a glare, “What’s the matter with you? I just want to apologize!”
“Guys stop.”
>”I don’t care! Let go!”
>Pumpkin tried to push him again but he held on and they both fell down onto the floor with Pumpkin landing on top.
>”Pound I’m going to start hitting you if you don’t knock it off.”
“Please stop.”
>He groaned, “But I don’t want to fight! I just want –
>You watched his face forcibly turn to the side and Pound loosened his grip as he rubbed his cheek.
>But as Pumpkin was walking away he grabbed her leg and gave it a good yank so she fell down onto the floor with a dull thud.
>”You asked for this.”
>Pumpkin was back on her hooves in almost no time and now the two of them shared a look of contempt and competition; Pound with his eyes down, and Pumpkin with tears still in her eyes and red cheeks and a stare of hate.
>They advanced towards each other and Pumpkin immediately began hitting, bringing her hooves down on Pound’s shoulders as he grabbed her and they began wrestling again.
>In their struggle tables rocked as their bodies smacked into them and chairs fell to the floor with a clanging and there were grunts and growls and whines of pain whenever one of them got a good hit on the other.
>With their blind faces they tore at each other, and you realized that in that moment they were no longer your older siblings that you looked up to.
>They were ponies that needed your help for a change.
>But what could you do?
>They both writhed on the ground in a combative knot and you stood over them.
“Guys you have to stop fighting.”
>”You ruined everything!”
“We’re gonna get in trouble if you keep doing this.”
>”I didn’t ruin anything! You’re the one who caused all this!”
“Hey.”
>They weren’t listening to word you were saying and you were starting to get really nervous as you looked around for something. Anything.
>There was absolutely nopony in the store today, and Caramel was still in the back, but you couldn’t see him from where you were.
>You looked towards the front door and hoped somepony who could solve all this would come in.
>Those swinging double doors that your mom brought you through over a year ago.
>What you wouldn’t give to have her here right now.
>She’d know how to fix this.
>She’s amazing.
>And you…
>Pound’s screams interrupt your frantic thoughts and you see Pumpkin had his bad wing in her teeth.
>How could they!
“Stop fighting right now you jerks!”
>Why did this happen?
>The two of them froze and looked up at you with bewilderment.
>You bent down and scooped them both easily up and held them under your armpit with their torsos held in your arms.
>”Anon what the heck?”
>”Let go.”
>They writhed around in your grasp and you felt a bad pit rise out of your stomach and crawl through your heart and out your throat.
“If I do you two are just going to fight again, and hurt each other.”
>”I wasn’t fighting. She’s the one who wanted to fight!”
>”Don’t try and pin this on me you jerk!”
“Stop it!”
>But they both started snarling and trying their best to lash at each other like raving beasts.
>This is all your fault.
>If you had just spoken up earlier, or intervened sooner, or if you weren’t so…
>You felt your bottom lip trembling and you took a deep breath to try and hold back the tears.
>Just tell yourself that you’re unique.
>That you aren’t…
>”This time was different though! Why couldn’t you just let me hang out with you without making some big deal about it?”
>”I don’t know! I didn’t mean to make you cry. You should’ve just listened to me!”
>Pumpkin’s face lit up in anger, “I should’ve listened to You?!”
>Suddenly you all heard a spraying noise and a brown stream of cola hit Pound in the face and soaked his head and mane with the sticky drink as he squirmed relentlessly and howled in protest.
>You all saw Caramel standing behind the bar with an annoyed look on his face at the three of you.
>Casually, as if it was some chore, he eased his soda gun over slightly and Pumpkin shouted some “wait’s” and “stop’s” before being sprayed with the cola as well.
>When it was over there were two small wet patches on the sides of your shirt, and both of their manes were soaked to where they drooped over their faces and tiny drops dripped onto the floor from tips.
>”Alright then,” Caramel sighed. “Why don’t the three of you come up here and have a seat.”
>He offered three stools and you took the middle so Pound and Pumpkin were separated.
>”I gotta tell you guys,” he sighed, “I don’t really like having ponies fight in my shop. I guess this is why I haven’t seen the three of you in here together like this for so long.”
>Caramel had a look about him that grown ups always had when you misbehaved; it was sort of a blank look, but with their gazes leaned slightly down, and their words coming out slow and serious.
>Sometimes, it made you uncomfortable, and you tuned out so those feelings would go away.
>This is how you avoid growing up; and it’s rare that you were ever really enraptured by these talks.
>”…I think I’d better just close shop and walk the three of you home, so I can tell your parents about what –“
“No!”
>”Wait!”
>”Don’t!”
>Yeah, you all definitely heard that at the same time.
>Caramel hummed as he studied the faces of the three pleading children before him.
>”So, it seems that you three were pretty quick to cut in when I mentioned your parents.”
>You felt your heartbeat and sat stiff as a board as Caramel continued studying you three.
>Mom would be crushed if she found out you disappointed her like this.
>You remember her crying into your shoulder the night before and you feel a bit disgusted that you’re even here right now.
>”All right,” Caramel says with uneasy relief in his voice, “I’ll cut you a break this time.”
>The three of you all sighed at the same time.
>”But only on two conditions; one, Anon I’d like it if you could clean up the mess these two made here.”
>You nodded, glad that this is all you had to do to get out of this.
>”That’s not necessary, Mr. Caramel.” Said Pumpkin. “My brother and I will do it.”
>”Yeah, Carmel.” Said Pound. “Anon doesn’t have to do it.”
>It was only a couple turned over tables and chairs, and some spilled spices.
>”Yes he does.” Says Caramel. “Cause the two of you are gonna be busy with something else.”
>The three of you watched as Caramel got two big bowls and two tubs of ice cream out from under the counter and placed them in front of your brother and sister.
>”Since the Cakes style of settling your disputes doesn’t seem to be working for the two of you, I thought maybe we could try to solve your troubles Drizzle style.”
>He began scooping the ice cream out of the tub and filling the bowl in front of Pumpkin with the pink treat.
>”In the Drizzle family we solve nearly all our disputes with a good ol’ fashioned ice cream eating contest.”
>One look at Caramel’s waist line was enough for the three of you to believe him.
>”So, I’d like the three of you to try my method out before you go. Who knows, maybe the ol’ Drizzle family method might work out for ya. And even if it doesn’t, you get to eat ice cream. It’s a great time either way.”
>”Let me get this straight.” Said Pumpkin as she pushed the bowl of strawberry ice cream over to Pound and Drizzle sheepishly smiled and apologized for ‘forgetting again’. “All we have to do is eat ice cream and we’ll be off the hook?”
>Caramel nods and gets out a tub of chocolate.
>Pumpkin hums, ”That doesn’t seem right –“
>”Are you kidding?” Exclaimed Pound. “It’s the best deal ever. I’m gonna get started right now.”
>”Oh no you aren’t,” said Caramel. “This is a contest, remember? The winner is whoever eats the most ice cream in fifteen minutes. I’ll keep time; all you two gotta do is eat.”
>He filled the bowl in front of Pumpkin with chocolate and smiled, “It starts whenever one of you does.”
>”Right now!” And with that Pound begins stuffing his face with ice cream.
>Pumpkin shook her head, “This is nice and all Mr. Caramel, but I’m still not sure how this is going to help us.”
>With a full mouth Pound taunted, “You’re juth sthayhing that cauth you know you can’t win.”
>She sighed, “You’re going to get a tummy ache if you keep eating like that.”
>Pound smirked with a mouthful of ice cream, it was already smudged on his cheeks and chin like pink splotches of caked dirt, and he made some whining noises at Pumpkin to taunt her.
>Then his eyes shot open and his face tensed up and he groaned through closed teeth and his forehead hit the counter with a thud.
>You all reminded him about the roof of his mouth as he writhed in an ice cream agony.
>The metal table legs with their rubber bottoms rubbed the tiles loudly like a grating groan as you pushed it along to its place.
>Pumpkin gave you a questioning look as Pound continued banging his head.
>”What do you think, Anon?”
“About what?”
>You shrugged and smiled, not sure of what to say, and Pumpkin opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped, did the same as you did, and turned back to her ice cream.
>She brought a spoonful up to her mouth as Pound rubbed his forehead and narrowed his eyes at her.
>”Roof of your mouth, Pound.”
>”I know!”
/
>The floor tiles were black and white like a checkerboard and there were red barstools and red leather booths and various memorabilia photos and promos of celebrities and entertainers from black and white days posted on the walls and you had to look closely to see the blue paint behind them.
>Mom was hopping all around and taking the sights with you as she pointed out various points of interest like “spinny chairs” as she jumped on a barstool and spun in circles like a top, or “hot lava” as she proceeded to hop from black tile to black tile.
>The Cakes walked in and took in the sights as well, only Mr. Cake made sure to look at everything with a straight face.
>”Guys over here!” your mom called to them. “Look at all the different kinds of yummylicious ice cream’s they got.”
>You had to stand on your tip toes but you could see over the counter.
>There was a chilly glass panel that covered the row of ice cream holes, your mom put her cheek against it and shuddered with closed eyes moaning “cold lava”.
>Pumpkin gasped, “Hot lava!” And she jumped onto a black tile while Pound feigned burning in faux agony as he scraped at the floor and Mrs. Cake shushed him and told him to stop and your brother informed her that she needed to get out of the lave before she burned up.
>Since you had the good sense to stand on the black tiles you stared in awe at the ice cream.
>The ice cream were all different colors ranging from cherry red to banana yellow to some dark purple concoction with drizzles of green tracks in its diary ridge.
>”See somethin’ you like yet?” said a jolly voice.
>You looked up and saw a cheery brown pony with a green visor on.
>”Yeah, Nonny,”said your mom excitedly as she fidgeted in anticipation, “What are you getting?”
>She scanned the frosty rows up and down multiple times, “Gosh, there’s so many flavors. Where am I gonna start?”
>Pound flew up in his usual floaty porch swing swaying way and Pumpkin climbed up on her father’s back.
>Mr. Cake looked less than enthused about all this, “I don’t suppose you have ice cream cake, do you?”
>His wife chastised him with a poke in the ribs but Caramel smiled and laughed, “You’re the Cake’s, right? I’ve been waitin’ for you to come in my store for a long while now.”
>This caught their attention and your mom asked Caramel how long he’d been here.
>”Opened shop just about a couple months ago. Course a monster attacked your screwy town and made my grand opening yesterday’s news pretty quick.”
>Pound’s jaw dropped, “A monster attack! Pinkie you lied.”
>You gripped your mom’s soft fore leg and pressed your cheek against her warm fur.
>They kept stuff like this away from you often, and you hated the idea of your mom fighting a monster, but awed that she returned from these battles.
>One look up to her soft eyes and tender smile garnered a kiss and instantly you felt your heart and she rubbed your back.
>That’s all it took.
>”Sorry, Pound. But mom and dad said no.”
>He stared at them with annoyance and they said that maybe when he was older and if all his chores were done then he could fight monsters.
>”Not fair.” He sulked.
>”You’d just get eaten anyway.” Said Pumpkin.
>And they shared their famous glare.
>”Speaking of eating,” said Caramel without missing a beat, “Have you decided what you would like yet?”
>You all looked at the selection again.
>Through frosty glass you saw Caramel’s smile, “I want to know what two of the best bakers in Equestria think of my ice cream.”
>This made Mr. Cake hum and Mrs. Cake blush and offer thanks.
>”Also there’s a line.”
>Indeed there were at least five other ponies waiting in line behind you all.
>They looked at you all impatiently.
>”Sorry about this dearies. We aren’t really big ice cream eaters.”
>Mom was studying the treats frantically, “This one. No, this one. Maybe that one? Or…”
>She groaned and looked at Caramel with some individual hairs frazzied and sticking out from her cotton candy mane.
>”Do you think it’d be possible for me to just have you combine all the flavors into one big icee-riffic creamalicious swirly?”
>”It wouldn’t taste good,” Caramel shuddered, “I’ve tried it before.”
>Your mom pulled on her mane, Mrs. Cake was still talking to the growing line, Mr. Cake was pretending to act uninterested, and your siblings were still arguing about something.
>Meanwhile the stares of the crowd were creating a knot in your tummy and unease up your back.
>You just wanted to go home now and leave all this behind.
>The glass was chilly on your hands.
>You wanted to hear your mom’s rapid questions at the table and then again later but more calm as she put you to bed.
>Just be the first.
“I’d like that one please.”
>Caramel grabbed his scoop, “Bubblegum?”
>You nodded and he said it was a good choice.
>Mom conked her noggin and groaned, “Bubblegum! Why didn’t I think of that? Make that two my good pony.”
>He laughed and said something about similar tastes while giving you each a generous scoop.
>The others soon caught up after you ordered and you all sat down.
>”The closest this place had to anything baked is cookie dough.” Mr. Cake huffed.
>”I got Spitfire Sherbert!” said Pound. “It’s supposed to be hot and tangy.”
>”It can’t be hot if it’s ice cream.” Said Pumpkin.
>Pound brushed her away, “What would you know about flavor, Misses vanilla?”
>”French vanilla!”
>You studied the treat with curiosity; it looked a bit like rolling hills of diary, and the light reflected off of it making it look shiny, the hills were a candy pink and the bubblegum was like blue and yellow boulders.
>Mom nudged you, “At the same time.”
>With your spoon you scooped it up, and it was a bit like scooping cake frosting, which you remember being really sweet to eat right out of the can, but the lecture afterwards always making it seem forbidden.
>You and mom both faced each other, you smiled with her, and your eyes darted between each other and the ice cream.
>”Looks pretty good, huh?”
>You nodded and she licked her lips, “On three: one, two, are you ready? Okay, three.”
>And you both tasted it at the same time.
>It was cold and sticky, you couldn’t chew it, so you just let it sit there on your tongue and hit you with the sweetness as it dripped down your tongue in little drops as it melted.
>And in the middle of the sweet blob is a bit of hard shelled ball, and you moved that to your teeth and found it was the sugary sweet chewy bulb of bubblegum.
>”Pretty good, huh?”
>You smiled and nodded and your mom ruffled your hair, her hoof was sticky.
>”Good to know, but don’t choke on the bubblegum, okay?”
With a mouthful, “Okay.”
>”Great, I’m gonna get some more.”
>More?
>Mom’s bowl was empty and as she walked up to the counter she blew a bubble and giggled when it popped.
>You looked around and saw that everypony was enjoying their ice cream as well, except for Mr. Cake who hadn’t touched his.
>Pound came up, his cheeks splotched with oranges and reds as he stuck his tongue out and panted.
>”It really is hot.”
>Pound was almost done too, and he looked at his dad curiously, “You gonna eat that?”
>Mr. Cake grumbled, “Maybe if it was baked.”
>”Why don’t you just try it dear?” said Mrs. Cake as she patted his back. “We’re here to enjoy ourselves after all.”
>Pumpkin rolled her eyes as she watched your brother shrug and shove his face in the bowl, “Some of us more than others.”
>They shared a look, and then determined smiles.
>Your brother flapped his wings, “I bet I can eat more ice cream than you!”
>She poked him, “You’re so on.”
>Your mom came back like she knew about it all, because she brought Pound another bowl and they got ready.
>”On three we’ll go, Pound: One, t –“
>”Three!”
>He slammed his face into the bowl and began inhaling his ice cream and Pumpkin called him a cheater before doing the same, and slamming her face in hers so hard that her bow loosened a bit and her mane was almost free.