Irrational Anon - Bad Influence

1.
>Be Anonymous, #1 deadbeat senior of Canterlot High School, practically unknown to the rest of the general population, and pretty much okay with that
>You mean, you’d only been going to CHS for a couple months (transferring in from your old school), and while your peers had been fairly welcoming, it was far too late in their academic careers to go around making new friends
>You weren’t expecting the royal treatment anyways, and you’d become more or less comfortable being largely ignored by everybody
>Today, though, was a special kind of hell
>Most days you just had to slog through eight hours of busywork, forcing yourself to stay awake and attentive long enough to get home
>You’d started what they called the “Senior Coast”; your grades and marks were pretty much safe from any long term damage at this point, and without the motivation to keep up with classwork, you’d settled on showing up enough to not fail
>Not that this behavior was entirely your own invention, but apparently the professional educators at Canterlot High School took their grading curves very seriously
>Earlier today your precarious balancing act had fallen apart, and you’d been caught dead asleep in the middle of chemistry class
>Didn’t help that your professor was a complete tightass who relished the chance to make your life miserable
>Also didn’t help that you were a hop, skip and a jump away from completely failing the course
>In a test score driven rage the sonovabitch had foregone all established disciplinary protocol and stuck your ass in an hour of after-school detention, which is where you found yourself right now
>Jokes on him, you could sleep through that shit too. Not like the geriatric old fart watching the room would care, considering you were the only one there. And you didn’t have anywhere else to be this time in the afternoon

2.
>You were cutting it pretty close, though. Your parents weren't exactly strict on curfew, but the longer you spent off the radar the more likely they'd start asking questions when you got home, and you definitely didn't need to add detention to the list of school-related topics for them to nag you about
>Shaking your head to clear out the thoughts of parental lectures about "responsibility" and "not being a failure in life", you pick your backpack up off the ground, forming an impromptu pillow to spend the next hour on
>Just as you were settling in to catch a few zzzs on the world’s least comfortable desk, the door to the detention classroom opened and in stepped another unfortunate convict
>Your chaperone at the front of the room made a nominal effort to take note of the new arrival before deciding he had more valuable things to do with his limited time on Earth and returned to perusing the dictionary-sized stack of paperwork on his desk
>You couldn’t really blame him for dismissing the new arrival, though. Despite her honey-colored skin and vibrant pink hair that should have made her a real head-turner, this chick was doing her absolute best to blend into the furniture
>The second she set foot in the classroom, mystery girl had burrowed herself into the nearest corner seat and done her best to mimic Naked Snake
>Camo Index: 99%
>For a second you considered trying to strike up a conversation with her, but she gave off the distinct impression that she was hiding from your gaze just as much as she was avoiding attention from the Crypt Keeper behind the teacher's desk.
>Oh well, another side-effect of being The Amazing Hollow Anon. Besides, the train to sleepytown junction was already scheduled to depart, and despite your brief vacation earlier in chem class, you didn’t have the strength to stop it
>Shouldn’t have stayed up all night playing videogames
>Again

3.
>Whuzzat
>Who are you?
>Where are you?
>What day is it? What year!?
>Wait you remember, you’re Anonymous, #1 deadbeat Senior of CHS
>And judging by your surroundings, you were still in the detention room. Alone
>You could have sworn there was AT LEAST one other person in the room with you earlier. Isn’t that how school functions usually work?
>Wiping some drool from the corner of your mouth, you bring up your phone to check the time, hoping you weren’t in for too much more of this riveting punitive experience
>Battery’s dead. Shit, you forgot to turn it off before you took your nap
>Kinda strange that nobody's bitching at you for having your phone out in the middle of detention, though...
>Looking up, your heart nearly skips a beat as you see the clock on the wall reads five minutes to 6:00
>Detention was supposed to be over an hour after school ended at 3:30! That old bastard who was supposed to be watching the students had left you passed out on the desk, dead to the world, for over an hour!
>The school officially closed at 6:00 too, and you'd have to find someone with a staff key to get out if you didn't hurry. You were lucky to not end up locked in all night with no way to call for help!
>Adrenaline instantly galvanizes your body into motion, slinging your backpack over one shoulder and busting down the classroom door
>You let out an uninterrupted string of choice curse words (and a couple misplaced racial slurs you’re not too proud of) as you haul ass down the halls of CHS and out to the sizable parking lot, hoping to God you can get in your car and get home before the school doors lock, or worse - your parents start asking questions
>On the way you drop your backpack off in the general vicinity of your locker. It’s only gonna slow you down, and right now you gotta go fast.
>Backpack was a brave soldier and a valiant comrade. You’d be back for him and his neglected contents tomorrow
>Semper Fi

4.
>You slam the front door to the school open like an angry ATF officer on the hunt for innocent friendly canines and sprint across the blacktop towards your vehicle, sitting completely alone in the center of the empty student parking lot
>Halfway to your extraction point you feel the first light drops of what is sure to be a hellish storm, judging by the quick glances towards the sky you take between bouts of channeling your inner Sonic the Hedgehog
>God must be pretty disappointed in your performance though, because you’re still a couple dozen feet from the safety of your car when solid sheets of rain start to slam into you like nails from every direction
>Mission failed, we’ll get ‘em next time
(http://asoftmurmur.com/ rain wind and lightning set to high for optimal reading)
>By the time you remember to fish your keys out of your pockets and get the car door open, you’re so thoroughly soaked you might as well be Gene Kelley
>Of course you had left your trusty hoodie in the car, not expecting you’d need it for a day of being totally awake and dry
>You were definitely going to report that old fuck that left you to die in the detention room. If only you had the forethought to figure out what his name was before nodding off.
>Sometimes you wondered if you were too talented at not giving a fuck for your own good
>The harsh, uncomfortable conditions that had ended your adrenaline-fueled marathon did give you reason to pause for a second, though, when otherwise you’d have shot out of the parking lot at questionably legal speeds
>It’s not like your parents could really be mad at you for getting home late in these conditions, what with you being such a responsible driver and all
>That said, they’d have to be pretty oblivious to overlook the fact that the storm that was now delaying your return had started well after you’d have normally returned
>Lucky for you, your parents could be pretty oblivious. Must be where you got your talent...

5.
>Your internal monologue is cut short as a flash of pink in the corner of your eye catches your vision through the pouring rain
>If you squint, you can just make out the form of a girl huddled up next to the front door of CHS, from which you’d just violently erupted a few moments ago, her pink hair standing in stark contrast to the oppressive gray mist of the storm
>It takes you a minute of wondering who could possibly still be at the school this late besides you before you realize that this was the same girl you’d been sharing a detention cell with earlier
>Normally you’d be pissed that she had been complicit in Dumbledore’s plan to let you die of exposure, but something else was bothering you. She should have left detention at the usual time, so had she been sitting here alone for an hour and a half?
>Scanning the horizon through the onslaught of rain, you confirm that there aren’t any more cars in the student lot, and you assume the girl must have been waiting for someone to pick her up. But an hour and a half is a hell of a wait in this weather…
>You can’t just leave her here, that would be stooping to her level. Plus, giving another student a ride home was a pretty good alibi as far as your parents were concerned - not like they were going to fact check it
>So, having taken entirely too long to make up your mind, you crank up your car and put it in drive, circling around to the sidewalk where your charge awaits
>As you slide up to the steps of the front door, you drop into park and crack the passenger window, fortunately shielded from the elements by the same roof mystery girl is hiding under
>From this distance you can see she’s balled up even tighter than she was in detention, knees drawn up and face buried in her arms. To be fair, you’d be huddled up too if you were having to relive what felt like the beginnings of Hurricane Katrina

6.
>Her posture also prevents her from realizing you’d pulled up next to her, and even from a few feet away the sound of rain smacking into concrete at terminal velocity drowns out the groans of the car engine
>Seeing no alternative, you take more than a little pleasure at the opportunity to lay into the horn. Serves her right for ditching you like that earlier, you’d say
>Her reaction, though, is more than you had even hoped for. The second your palm hit the horn, mystery girl had shot up from her huddled position, letting out an “eeep!” audible over the deafening weather and instinctively throwing her back against the nearest wall like a caged animal
>You probably look like a dick, but you can’t help laughing like a madman at this teenage girl who is apparently part squirrel as she succumbs to the most basic human instincts of fight-or-flight. In your mind, it’s fitting payback for her role as accomplice to professor dipshit
>After the moment passes and the yellow (heh) girl shows no sign of coming down from her adrenaline high, though, you decide it’s in your best interest to extend the olive branch as you lean over towards the open window;
“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that”
>That wasn’t true in the slightest, but now you felt bad for startling her
“You, uh, you looked like you need a ride, and the weather’s starting to get pretty rough, so…?”
>Nailed it, Anon
>Not right now, Other Anon, I got this

7.
>Mystery girl doesn’t seem to agree though. Apparently the realization that you speak English was enough to coax her out of her prey response, but now she had switched tactics to playing dead, looking almost directly at the ground and making no effort to respond to your invitation
>Well shit, it’s not like you could just drive off and leave her now, so instead you double down on the offer, reaching over to pop open the car door in the hopes that the friendly gesture would mean something
“Oh, I’m Anonymous by the way. Or just Anon. I guess most people just call me Anon”
>Bitch nobody calls you anything, ain’t nobody know you
>You politely tell Other Anon to fuck off
>You’re in the middle of debating whether you should just excuse yourself entirely before something stupid happens, when someone else interjects
>”u-u-umm m-m-my f-friends were supp-supposed to p-p-p-pick me up”
>The interruption to your totally healthy conversation with yourself, combined with the unintelligible stuttering, completely caught you off guard, leaving you having to reboot for a couple seconds to figure out what the hell Butter Stutters over here had just said
>You hope the gears in your head weren’t turning too visibly, but with her eyes still glued to the concrete, you get the feeling your newest acquaintance didn’t really mind. Once the pieces do come together, you quickly realize the sad truth of the situation
>This girl had been flat out ditched
>Not that you were going to break the sad news that Santa isn’t real to this girl, but now you pretty much had to give her a lift. You did your best to cover up the obvious implications with a plausible explanation
“Oh, uhh, maybe they got held back by the storm and couldn’t make it?”
>Man your acting skills needed some work

8.
>Just as you open your mouth to try and salvage something from this trainwreck, the sky above the two of you splits open with a deafening BOOOOM, and at almost the same time a flash of light arcs from the clouds to the grounds, just over the horizon
“Jesus, that’s close”
>Stutters seems thinks so too, judging by the “eeep!!!” that bursts out of her even louder than before.
>This time, though, her animal instincts get the better of her, and she dives right into the open seat of your car, the first safe place her overloaded brain could find
>It would have been adorable if she hadn’t nearly collided into you in her mad rush to get out of the open
>The girl immediately assumes her earlier huddled position, hands buried in arms, but for a split second you could have sworn her face was just as drenched as yours was a few minutes ago, though you thought she had managed to stay out of the rain
>Before you can decide what to do with the infinitely dense sphere of quivering girl in the front seat of your car, a voice begins to emanate from beyond her event horizon:
>”C-c-c-can you c-c-call my friends, puh-please?”
>This time, her speech impediment wasn’t comical. You were starting to actually worry for her safety - the fact that she was left all on her own without any way to even contact the people she was relying on to get home was pretty disconcerting
>Your unease was compounded by the fact that the human blob sitting next to you had begun vibrating like a plate of jello in an earthquake
>Dear lord, this girl isn’t just stuttering, she’s shaking from an hour and a half worth of fear, disappointment in her friends and icy storm front winds
>That explains the soaked state of her face, which only added to your concern
>What had been an excuse to get out of a lecture at home just a few minutes ago had suddenly become a much more pressing matter. You needed to get this girl home, ASAP

9.
“Sorry, my phone died during detention. Guess I shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that”
>Now didn’t seem like the time to bring up her guilt in your current predicament. Both of you had bigger problems now
“Uh, but, I can still drive you home, it’s no problem, and you don’t really have a lot of options, right?”
>You glance at your radio, and with some adjustment for the clock readout you’d never bothered to fix, you guesstimate it’s at least five after 6:00
“I mean the school’s probably already locked by now, and I don’t see any of the staff around”
>Fuck Anon, sound more like a kidnapper why don’t you
>Quiet Other Anon, you’re doing the right thing here, you don’t need any shit right now
>Thankfully the girl in your seat finally gives into your demands, more out of lack of energy than any persuasive talent on your end, finally mustering up the courage to let out a barely audible
>“Okay”
>Timidly, afraid to leave the relative comfort of your stale pleather seats, the girl reaches a single hand out to close the car door, muting the sound of Armageddon happening around you
>Now you’re getting somewhere. As awkward as the situation is, you can tell that being sealed off from the rain outside is having a calming effect on the poor girl
>The severity of her shaking had been reduced drastically, but the loud peals of thunder echoing overhead were still sending her into spasms with frightening frequency
>Suddenly, and with a well-deserved dose of embarrassment, you realize you’d been staring at this girl for at least a minute, listening to her breathing slow to almost calming levels before suddenly spiking again with an audible gasp whenever a thunderbolt cracked across the sky

10.
>In an attempt to stave off the mounting awkwardness, you let out a small cough before asking
“So, uh, where do you live, exactly?”
>Smooth, man. Smooth
>I swear to christ Other Anon
>To her credit, Stutters actually manages to mumble a (barely) intelligible set of directions to her house, which after some quick mental cross-checking you realize is on the other end of town from your  place, nestled in the hilly suburbs outside the city proper
>In any other situation you’d be pissed to have to make the drive that far out without being compensated for gass, but it was too late now
>You had made the call to offer this girl a ride, and there was no way in hell you were going to make things even more awkward than they already were by complaining about cab fare
“Oh, that’s not too far out of the way, actually”
>You lied, trying to smooth over your initial bumpy starting
>There was just one problem:  Main Street and most of the other high-traffic roads were probably swamped with motorists killing one another trying to get home in this downpour
“I’m, uh, not too sure I trust the fast route in this weather though, so we may have to take a bit of a detour. That okay?”
>To your surprise, your copilot manages a meek nod. Even with her eyes still glued to her seat, it was more of a response than you’d been expecting
“Okay then”
>You muttered back as you shifted into drive, more relieved than you should have been at having the conversation over with
>Talking with people you’d never really met before had always made you a tad nervous, but everything about this situation was cranking up that pressure to eleven

11.
>You started to ease across the student lot towards the promise of salvation from this waking Hell when another explosion of lightning sent shivers down you and your passenger’s spines
>It took every ounce of self-control you had to stop yourself from slamming on the brakes and catapulting the girl through the windshield
“Seatbelt”
>You prodded with what you hoped was the least pushy tone you were capable of
>To your relief she responded without a jump or yelp, meekly unfolding herself and reaching over to buckle up before pawing at her face with a shirt sleeve
>Another gesture that should have been heartwarming, but in these conditions, was closer to heart wrenching
>Fuck, you needed something to distract you from the comedy of errors you currently found yourself caught in
>Plus, your company could probably do without the sound of the apocalypse sending her into panic attacks every two minutes
>Normally bad weather didn’t bother you in the slightest; all you have to do is plug your phone up to your car’s high-tech (for it’s time) radio and blast some music to drown out whatever was going on in the world
>Not today though
>For what must have been the fifteenth time this afternoon, you cursed yourself under for leaving your phone on during detention
>You had almost given up on music when an epiphany struck you
>Reaching around behind the driver’s seat, you strained against your own seatbelt as you rooted around in your backseat, searching under piles of old books and items of clothing for something to save the day
>Your newest acquaintance followed you with her eyes, head no longer transfixed to the floor, silently wondering what you were looking for

11.
>After a few seconds you felt your hand wrap around something square and metallic, and with exaggerated gusto you reeled in the target of your search
“Found it! Here we go”
>Your old MP3 player, back again to save you when you needed it most
>You say old, but really the gizmo was only slightly obsolete. Back during your days of walking everywhere the portable music source had been one of your closest friends, but your move to the city had necessitated more advanced means of transportation than your legs alone would allow
>Even so, you never had the heart to throw the little guy away. Besides, even with a few years of neglect, there were some solid tracks on here
>You couldn’t really remember what all you’d downloaded on this little sucker, but you trusted younger you to have deleted anything too edgy or off-putting
>Looking over to your passenger, who was still watching you with a look of anxiety and confusion, you tried once again to strike up a conversation
“You don’t mind some music, do you? Better than listening to the storm the whole way”
>Your attempt is shot down with a slow head shake, indicating that No, she doesn’t mind music
“Um, got any requests? Genre or anything? I’ve got a lot of different stuff on here”
>Once again you crash and burn as another slow head shake makes it clear that the girl isn’t looking to make small talk
>Well fuck it, you tried
>Thumbing the power button, you’re happy to see the screen light up in response, and even happier to see the battery is over half charged. Your luck had to turn around some time, you guess
>Seeing no reason for being picky, you grab up the aux cord intended for your now defunct phone and plug it into the MP3 player, hitting Shuffle and hoping for the best
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xTFRTVd-Gcc&list=PLddSkUxmPEC-eqkj6RaHEyVngD1HI-Mw3

12.
>Hell yeah, you forgot younger you had such good taste. This whole album was golden
>The gripping beat of the music blaring over the sound of rain and high winds helped you tune out the stress from today’s events and focus on making your way through the sprawling city streets without hydroplaning into occasional oncoming traffic
>You even caught yourself subconsciously rapping along to snippets of each song, ingrained memories of verses and hooks surfacing from a corner of your mind you’d completely forgotten about
>The musical accompaniment even made your irritation over the long drive melt away, replaced with nostalgia for your old life before moving to the city
>Actually, you’d been a little too lost in your memories. Almost ten minutes had passed before you’d remembered you weren’t alone in your car, and with a jolt of embarrassment you turned your head to the left, hoping to judge her reaction to your musical number
>Her response was… not what you were expecting, to say the least
>Actually she seemed completely rapt by the lyrical prowess currently booming over your beater’s anemic speakers
>A well-timed red light gave you a moment to observe the odd girl as she focused in on the sound, completely oblivious to your presence
>To you, she looked like what the Indians must have looked like the first time they saw a European ship – lost, unable to process what was right in front of them, basically trying to keep their brains from exploding
>Suddenly a realization dawned on you: judging from the way this girl had acted, she must have been pretty sheltered, and soccer moms across the country were universally opposed to the thug life, so...
“Is this your first time listening to hip-hop?”
>Fuck, you hadn’t meant to say that out loud, that rudely. There goes your peaceful car ride
>RIP

13.
>Unsurprisingly, the sudden interrogation snaps the girl out of her trance, and she turns to you with a visible start, forgetting all about the awkwardness between you two
>You reach over and turn down the speakers, as if to apologize, while Stutters tries to form a coherent response
>”Oh, I d-don’t listen to music like… this… m-much” she mumbles sheepishly. “Everyone says it has, um, b-b-bad words…?”
>Well at least her response wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. Most sheltered girls would have gone the Holier Than Thou route by now, demanding you stop listening to such vulgar music entirely
“Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t really thinking, we can listen to something else if you want”
>You pick up your MP3 player, making a half-assed attempt at scrolling through your albums to find something more suitable for proper young ladies
>”Oh, no! You d-don’t have to change it! I, um, a-a-actually like it, h-honest!”
>You can’t help but throw this girl a sideways glance in response. You’re about ninety percent sure she’s just saying that to be friendly, even though she did seem to be into Aesop a few moments ago
>She just flinches at the sudden eye contact and looks everywhere but back at you, probably knowing that you’ve seen right through her
>Either way you appreciate the gesture, and after a quick
“You sure?”
>Followed by a nervous nod from her (and a small grin from you), you flick the speakers back up and unpause your MP3 player, resuming your chill detour through the city
>Occasionally you glance over to your left to watch her nod along to the beat, eyes screwed up as if trying to decode a language entirely foreign to her, sometimes catching your gaze before blushing and diverting hers
>Okay, you have to admit it, she’s pretty freaking cute. And now that the ice was… not broken, but cracked, you guess, you didn’t feel so anxious about her presence
>Maybe this whole day wasn’t turning out so bad

14.
>Sadly, you didn’t have too much time to bask in your newfound enjoyment of Stutter’s company, as before you knew it you found yourself cruising down the winding streets of the city suburbs
>You found yourself dreading the inevitability of finding her house, like a little kid who knows he has to go home in the morning and wants to stay up all night with his friends
>This wasn’t a usual response from you when faced with a stranger’s company, but you chalked it up to your lack of social interaction in the past months
>The good news was, the worst of the storm was over, and you regretfully turned down the unnecessarily loud speakers so that you and your partner in rhyme could communicate effectively
>You felt a little bad for doing so, since removing the object of her obsession caused her visible disappointment, but you couldn’t ride around forever, as much as you would have liked to
“Your house is around here somewhere, right? Sorry, I might need some help the rest of the way”
>Now calm enough to respond to a conversation without adrenaline taking over, the girl gave you a trademark anxious nod before turning away to survey the houses around yourself
>After a moment or two she must have found a street or landmark she recognized, because she immediately perked up, sitting up straight and feeding you a steady stream of unstuttered directions, punctuated with “umm”s and “oh, uh”s whenever she lost her bearings
>You were thankful for the intelligible instructions, but you had to admit, you kinda missed the stuttering. It was endearing when it wasn’t hilarious nonsense

15.
>Ultimately, after an uncountable number of lefts and more than a few rights that you were pretty sure led in a big circle, you finally ended up on a dead end road, apparently your intended destination
>To your surprise, your navigator kept silent as you coasted down the street, past all the cardboard cutout suburban houses with white picket fences and 2.5 kids, and down the hill towards a wooded lot
>Even more surprising was the overgrown bungalow at the end of the street, set on a hill well back from the road and completely shrouded by the forest of flora that had grown up around it
>As you pull up to the end of the street and drop into park, you get an even better view of the quaint house
>If it weren’t for the terrible weather, it would have looked like a cottage out of a picture book. Even so, you felt the structure elicited a response
“THAT’S you’re house?”
>You asked, hoping you would come across as impressed or awestruck. Anything other than judgmental, really
>Lucky for you, Copilot Stutterbutt is used to the question, offering back a hearty “yup” and shy grin
“Wow”
>Is all you can say in turn as you scan the grounds, noting that there weren’t any cars in sight. Parents must be out somewhere; that explains how Stutters ended up relying on her “friends” in the first place
>You’re just about to take another swing at conversation when a distant CRACK signals the return of the dreaded downpour, snapping both of you back to reality
>But without any more road, getting your charge to safety without her getting drenched in the process was looking pretty much impossible
>She wasn’t looking too thrilled at the prospect of making a mad dash uphill through the rain, and you weren’t about to settle for it either
>Taking a second to take stock of the situation, you found yourself suddenly thankful for the cluttered mess that was your backseat for the second time today

16.
>Snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, you reach into your backseat and once again return with an unexpected savior
>Your hoodie, which until now had been even more of a deadbeat slacker than you, was going to come in clutch for the victory whether it wanted to or not
>You just really hoped it didn’t smell, since as soon as she saw it, Stutters’ eyes became milk saucers
“Here, throw this on, you need it way more than I do. I got soaked earlier anyways”
>You say, and it’s true. Your hair is all the proof you need.
>A-A-Are you sure!? Y-You d-don’t have to -
“I’m sure. Take it, I’ll be fine. You can give it back to me tomorrow”
>You cut her off, having already made up your mind. On top of the obvious, you had also suddenly become aware of the time once again, and every minute spent arguing was a minute later you’d be getting home
>”Oh gosh. Th-thanks so much for everything Anonymous, I...” she trails off, at a loss for words to express her gratitude
“Hey, don’t sweat it. That’s what friends are for, right?
>Another explosion in the sky startles the frail girl, prompting her to throw on your oversized hoodie before turning back to you to say
>”Um, I’m sorry I left you in detention”
>The apology was delivered so carefully you couldn’t help but imagine she’d been practicing it in her head for the past few minutes. You tried, and failed, to suppress a chuckle
“Don’t worry about it, that was all on me. Just get inside before this storm gets any worse, alright?
>The girl nods appreciatively, before throwing open your car door and sprinting for her front porch, the jungle sprouting from the ground around her adding to the protection of your hoodie
>Even so, you wait until she makes it to the front door just to be safe, and before she goes inside you roll your window down and shout
“SEE YA TOMORROW!”
>Over the chaotic din of the storm.
>Your heart almost melts when she turns around and throws you a meek wave before disappearing into the safety of her home

17.
>You are now Fluttershy, #1 most Socially Awkward Junior in Canterlot High, and pretty much incapable of changing that
>Most days you could manage your stress and anxiety by sticking to a strict routine, and relying on your friends to calm you down whenever things got the better of you
>But today was a special kind of awful
>First you had to wait after school for your friends to come pick you up, which wouldn’t have been so bad, but then it started raining really hard, and you had to sit outside in the middle of the storm for more than an hour waiting for your them to show up
>Which was why you now found yourself about to have a panic attack in your living room as you fumbled with the phone, desperately trying to remember cell numbers and praying that nothing had happened to anyone on the road
>After a few minutes of racking your brain and trying to hold back tears, you finally remember Pinkie Pie’s number, which consisted of almost entirely one digit, which you promptly punched into the handset
“Come on Pinkie, please pickup please pickup please pickup”
>You mutter to yourself as the phone rings, your nerves finally getting the better of you as tears begin to swell in your eyes
>On the fourth ring, you hear the phone click and a goofy voice you’re all too familiar with sings from the other end,
>”HE-LOOOOO!~”
“OhmygoshPinkieit’sFluttershyI’mathomewhereareyouiseveryoneokay-”
>The words just spill out, and you don’t even try to control them, the sense of relief washing over you much stronger than whatever self control you had left
>”Woah, slow down, I can’t understand a word of what you’re saying!” Pinkie cuts you off on the other end of the call
>You take a deep breath, wondering why Pinkie Pie of all people can’t understand gibberish, especially from one of her best friends, and summon every ounce of restraint to say
“Pinkie It’s Fluttershy, Please Give The Phone To Twilight Or-”

18.
>”HAH, ELABORATE VOICEMAIL HOAX! You know what to do!”
>It takes a painful amount of mental pressure to stop yourself from screaming directly into the phone, but somehow you manage to stay calm enough to respond without breaking glass
“It’s Fluttershy just please call me back okay?”
>Now full blown crying, you’re just about to hang up the phone when the sound of someone snickering on the other end catches your attention, followed by someone else saying something about phone pranks
>It isn’t until you hear a distinctly Rarity “Hello dear, where are you, are you alright?” that you completely lose it
>Setting the phone down gently and instinctively grabbing the nearest pillow, you unleash all your frustration, anxiety and anger in the least destructive way you can
>Then, you softly return the pillow to it’s proper place and, with a voice that openly betrays your emotional state, you answer the phone, cutting off the exasperated girl on the other endearing
“Rarity, it’s Fluttershy. I’m at home”
>You were too deflated to say much else, but that didn’t stop Rarity
>”Oh thanks Heavens, we got back to the school just a few minutes ago and when we couldn’t find you we feared the worst! How on Earth did you get home, please tell me you didn’t walk home in this weather!”
“No, I, um, got a ride”
>You wanted so badly to ask where they’d been for the past two hours, or how they’d ended up so late, but Rarity cut you off
>”A ride with who? I don’t think I should have to remind you about the dangers a young lady faces when getting into a car with complete strangers!”
>She had a point, but since when were students at CHS strangers? Didn’t people carpool with friends all the time?
“Um, a Senior who had detention gave me a ride in his car, he said his name was Anonymous”

19.
>Almost instantly, you regretted opening your mouth. You knew the combination of the words “Senior”, “detention”, and “his” were enough to send Rarity over the breaking point
>Not only that, but you’d given his name out too. Might as well have put up a wanted sign
>”You WHAT!? Darling, how could you have done something so dangerous, and with an older man! I can’t tell you how disappointed in you I am!”
>Now you really were mad. You couldn’t believe she wanted you to feel ashamed for accepting help when you really needed it, while she was always prancing around looking for attention, ESPECIALLY from older men
“That’s not fair! Anon was really nice, he drove me home when he could have just left me, and he let me listen to music so I wouldn’t be scared, and he even gave me his hoodie so I wouldn’t get rained on! That’s more than you did, you just left me at school!”
>And without even thinking, you hung up the phone. Of course you knew that there would be repercussions for what you’d just said, and being rude was uncalled for, but right now you just wanted Rarity to stop talking
>In fact, you just wanted the whole world to stop bothering you right now, and with numb limbs and tired eyes you made your way down the hall to your bedroom, promptly collapsing on your bed
>The storm still raged outside, but you felt safer lying in your bed than anywhere else, and the addition of Anon’s comfy hoodie only added to your growing tiredness
>Making a modest effort to stay awake, you try to recount the lyrics to that music Anon had played in his car, trying your best to memorize the snippets you could pick up so you could track down the songs later, but your mind was too cloudy to be of any use
>And before you knew it, merciful sleep had completely enveloped you, leaving only dreams of thunderstorms and car rides with nice boys in its wake

20.
>You wake up with dawn the next morning, still very much the most awkward teenager in town, but you felt a lot better now that you’d had a good night’s rest
>Actually, “wake up” was a bit of overstatement. You were definitely conscious, but pulling yourself up and out of bed to face the day wasn’t exactly appealing right now
>Instead you remain half-huddled in your sleeping position, listening to the cacophony of birdsongs beginning to erupt outside the windows of your cottage
>Mother Nature had always been the best alarm clock, and after a few minutes the various hoops and cries melded together to form a crescendo of noise you couldn’t ignore if you try
>’Alright Fluttershy, it’s time to get up’ you thought to yourself in a motherly tone, barely possessing enough strength to even persuade yourself
>Somehow, though, your subconscious won out, and you found yourself sitting up with a groan before sliding off your bed and clumsily plodding down the hall to the bathroom
>Just as you step inside, you’re caught off guard by the image of a pale-skinned teenage girl with wild, frizzy pink hair wearing a combination of a frumpy skirt and an oversized hoodie, staring at you with a look of bewilderment
>Awww, she looked awful, the poor thing, maybe she needs hel-
>Wait a second, that’s a mirror
>Wait a second, why did you look like THAT? Why did you fall asleep in your clothes, and apparently somebody else’s!?
>A wave of confusion hit you like a ton of bricks, jolting you from your previous dreamy state with a noticeable start, before the memories of yesterday’s ordeals came flooding back to you
>Your ride home with Anonymous, though initially uncomfortable, had turned out alright in the end, and for a few moments you savor the warmth of his loaned article of clothing

21.
>But then you remember the cause for the ride, and your subsequent spat with Rarity, and your mood sinks like a rock.
>You really hadn’t meant to be so ungrateful about carpooling, but even though the Victorian girl had likely already forgiven your outburst on the phone, you knew there was still going to a lecture on the etiquette of a proper young lady
>You really didn’t like it when Rarity treated you like a child who couldn’t take care of herself, even though you know deep down she’s just trying to protect you
>And you definitely weren't looking forward to a rant about how Anon was a "bad influence"
>Right now, the only thing you're looking forward to is a hot bath, and getting out of these mussy clothes
>After reaching over to the bathtub faucet to get the water started, you carefully peel off Anon's hoodie, instantly missing the cozy garment
>You carefully fold it and place it on the counter where it's unlikely to get wet or otherwise soiled before removing your own wrinkled clothes with somewhat less ceremony
>By the time you finished disrobing, the bathwater had warmed up to the perfect temperature, and you add a few splashes of aromatic bubble bath before lowering yourself into the welcoming water
>Again, you felt terrible for being so rude to Rarity the day before. She had always been so generous, making you and the other girls beautiful clothing, handing out luxuries like the expensive sopa and shampoo you were using right now
>And she'd be the first to inform anyone who asked that she wasn't doing this with her parents' money; the highschool girl had been running a profitable fashion startup out of her own house for over a year now, and her own hard work and talent afforded her the gifts she showered on her friends
>For a moment you felt a pang of jealousy, not because your friend was wildly successful, but because she wore her success so openly and easily
22.
>Even if you had such an incredible talent, you were sure you'd never flaunt it like that. You were already shy enough about playing in your friends' band, and tambourine wasn't exactly a starring role
>But you shake your head, knowing better than to dwell on the things you couldn't change. Besides, you had better things to think about right now
>Anonymous
>Even without saying it out loud, his name sparked something in your chest - the same kind of feeling you had gotten when you met your now best friends for the first time, or even more recently upon meeting both Twilights and the successfully reformed Sunset Shimmer
>But this time, there was something different, a subtle change that made the familiar thrill of meeting a new friend suddenly very foreign
>Anon was a boy, who wanted to talk about boy interests and do boy activities
>While most girls your age had at least outgrown their fear of talking to the opposite gender, you were lucky when you didn't get butterflies from talking in a class full of students you'd known for years
>Talking to boys was entirely new to you, and although you had felt more comfortable with Anon by the time he dropped you off yesterday, you still needed someone to give you boy-talking-to advice
>Rarity was out of the question, of course. You didn't need another reason to bring her shame down on you
>As was Pinkie Pie, because she'd spill the beans to everyone, Rarity included
>That and you were still mad about that phone prank she pulled on you yesterday
>In a show of mock anger at the hyperactive girl, you stuck your tongue out at nobody in particular
>Twilight Sparkle and Sunset Shimmer could probably help, since they were both pretty popular with the male students, but you didn't want your friendship with Anon to be seen as... romantic
>You blushed at the thought of Twilight and Sunset, dumbfounded as you told them about a kind, handsome senior boy who you maybe wanted to be more than friends with

23.
>And there goes that tingling in your chest again
>Oh gosh
>Just Friends Fluttershy, Just Friends
>After calming down, you conclude that you're left with only Apple Jack and Rainbow Dash for guidance, and to you, both were good options
>Rainbow Dash had lots of male friends owing to her popularity with the school's various sports teams, as well as the growing fan-following of the band, and she was happy to be seen as 'one of the guys'
>AJ, on the other hand, had a huge family tree, which meant she had dealt with boys of all ages, and you knew you could trust her to give helpful advice
>Any further decisions about broaching the subject of boys to your friends would have to wait, though, as a loud grumble from your stomach brought your attention to more pressing matters
>You had completely forgotten to eat last night, and now the hollow feeling in your tummy drove you to rise up from the tub, drain the water and towel off in a series of quick practiced motions
>Wrapping one towel tightly around your slender frame, and grabbing another for your freshly treated hair, you brace for a second before stepping out into a hall, the sudden chill of dry air sending a shiver down your spine and across your skin
>Your suffering is thankfully cut short by the promise of clean, dry clothes as you reach your room, quickly tossing on the pajamas you had left on your bedside table yesterday to block out the unwelcome air
>Your PJ's hadn't seen much action the night before, and a quick glance at the alarm clock that had been sitting under them told you there was more than an hour of morning left before you needed to be ready to leave anyways, so you were more than happy to have their company
>Another outburst from your belly reminded you of your mission, and in pursuit of sustenance you once again emerged from your bedroom, heading down the hall and in the direction of your homely kitchen

24.
>While you were no Pinkie Pie, your parents were certainly capable cooks in their own right, and despite the difficulty acclimating to kitchen utensils and appliances, over the course of a few years you had become more than proficient at feeding yourself
>Today, though, you were just feeling plain lazy, and a bowl of microwaved oatmeal coupled with a glass of milk was surely enough to fill you up
>As you polished off your well-earned breakfast, your mind - now free of distractions - drifted back towards Anon, as you tried in earnest to make a mental catalog of potential future conversation topics
>Anything to help stop you from completely blanking out if you saw him again today
>Sadly the only real interest of his that you could recall was his music, which was probably because you had spent the entire car ride home shaking like a leaf and trying to avoid eye contact
>But hey, music wasn't a bad starting point, right? Lots of people talked about music, and despite what you had heard about hip-hop, you were intrigued by the thumping beats and gruff, melodic lyrics that had poured out of Anon's stereo
>Deciding on music as the best course of action, an idea began to form in your head, and after a quick trip back to your bedroom to fetch the vital component, you headed for your living room, laptop in hand
>The laptop had mostly been a paperweight since your parents had bought it for you at the start of your Sophomore year, especially since you were uncomfortable with the internet, but the occasional sharing of cute cat videos by your friends had armed you with the navigational knowledge you needed for this task
>After a few minutes of fruitlessly Googling snippets of half-remembered lyrics from the day before to no avail, you finally discovered a song whose name you were sure you could recognize from Anon's radio readout
>With a second of hesitation, you brought the mouse over the link to the song, and after building up some courage, hit Play

25.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZ8ncHPrF-c
>The opening off-beat guitar chord jogged your memory, and although the lyrics remained as incomprehensible as they had been the day before, you were entranced by the bumping bassline
>Turning the volume all the way up, you let the music pound through your ears. Free concerts was one of the perks of having no one around
>You had never been much of a dancer, but in the privacy of your own home you found yourself progressing from a slight head nod to an all-out upper-body groove by the end of the song
>It takes some strong music to get you in the dancing mood, and as the video ended you clicked the 'like' button at the bottom to show your appreciation
>For a moment you considered trying to track down a few more songs, but the time at the corner of the screen let you know it was getting closer to time to leave, and with some disappointment you closed your laptop and carried it back to your room
>You could always listen to more music after school, maybe even with some recommendations from Anon...
>With your thoughts still lingering on a certain Senior boy, you pull open the closet and go about deciding what to wear today
>Not that you had much choice. Fluttershy by Rarity was the look of the season, and you had an entirely new set of stylish outfits you would be expecting to test drive in the coming weeks
>In a small act of rebellion you grab an older, slightly less stunning outfit from last year's lineup out of the back of the closet, hoping Rarity would notice the mistake

26.
>As you dressed, you couldn't help scrutinizing yourself in the mirror. All of your friends had admitted at some point or other that you had the makings of a supermodel, even Rarity herself, but honestly, you just didn't see it
>Save for Rainbow Dash, each of your friends was, um, bigger than you in one way or another, and while Rarity had been the first to praise your looks, you had heard distinctly fewer compliments once she had grown her startup to the point of working with actual models
>If there was one asset you weren't lacking, though, it was definitely your hair.
>The honeysuckle tone contrasted well with your pale skin, and to everyone's surprise it pretty much groomed itself, requiring little more than a daily cleaning to maintain it's natural volume
>Not that your friends didn't have great hair, too, but you were often the target of girlish jealousy over the "cotton candy swirls" as Pinkie put it, preferring strawberry when referring to her own hot pink mane
>Dash was especially obsessed with your hair. More than once she had whined that if her own, 'totally rocking' rainbow roots wouldn't clash with the dye, she would love to sport the Fluttershy colors herself
>Still, you were pretty sure that hair alone wasn't going to set you apart from your much prettier friends in the eyes of a stranger - not to mention the dozens of other fashionable girls in your grade
>Without meaning to, you had completely zoned out comparing yourself with your friends, and by the time you took another glance at the alarm clock sitting by your bed, it was time go get moving
>Anxiety mounted as you gathered up your backpack, forgotten at the foot of your bed, and headed out the front door of your cozy secluded house, grabbing your trusty bicycle off the front porch and pedaling uphill before turning off in the direction of CHS

>27.
>You are once again Anonymous, Captain Deadbeat of the "Ask Me If I Give a Fuck" squadron
>And today you were feeling surprisingly good, for a school day morning
>You weren't even going to be late to school, for once. At least, not late-late like you normally were. Five minutes is fashionable, right?
>Something had put a spring in your step this morning as you rushed to complete your half-hour wakeup ritual in twenty minutes, before trudging out the door for another rousing day of Canterlot High, and you had a feeling you knew what
>That's right, Civilization VI had just dropped, and without needing to worry about your parents questioning the light pouring out of your room at two in the morning, you'd stayed up most of the night nuking historical figures into dust
>Guess it was just a lucky break that they had decided to get an early start on their long-awaited weekend vacation, and were right now most likely taking in the scenic views of God Knows Where
>Being delirious with sleep deprivation was totally worth it, even though you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that you were forgetting something
>Whatever it was could wait, right now you needed all your remaining attention for navigating the packed Senior parking lot at CHS if you had any hope of not mowing down Sophomores rushing to class
>Just as you manage to slide between two trust fund babbys' SUVs and into your designated spot, the sound of first bell echoes across the parking lot, sending gaggles of late students running in every direction
>You sigh as you reach over to grab your backpack and hoist yourself out of the vehicle, then sigh again with even greater exasperation as your hand comes up empty. You must have left the damn thing at home again
>No turning back now though, you're thoroughly wedged in this asphalt prison until someone braver than you decides to leave, so you bottle up your quickly escaping exasperation and begin the laborious process of dragging yourself through another day of highschool

>28.
>No sooner do you make it in the front door of the school than you are greeted with the unholy clamor of a couple hundred students doing their best imitation of the New York Stock Exchange
>Of everything you could possibly hear this early in the morning, this is your least favorite thing, and your hands automatically go to your phone, plugging in your earbuds and absentmindedly selecting the first song you can think of to drown out all the noise
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pU8kr8Svhf0
>The highschool hellscape mercifully fades away under Aes' commanding voice, but it's quickly replaced by that nagging feeling from earlier as your subconscious begs you to wake the fuck up and remember something
>Once again you do your best to ignore it as you make your way through the throngs of multicolored teenagers to your locker, fumbling to open it a couple times before remembering that your backpack (and all its contents) was still holding down the homefront
>The fuck man? Whatever happened to Semper Fi?
>At about the same time as you give up on discovering the intricate mechanics of school lockers, Aes' psychedelic psychiatric visit comes to a close
>A trick of the music gives you the impression that someone had called your name, but after a moment of craning your neck over the crowd to dispel your hypothesis, you pull your phone back up to find another track
>You're just about to settle on something heavy to kickstart your nerves when a voice from your wildest nightmares does the job for you

>29.
>"ANONYMOOOUUUS!!!"
>The call came as a shriek, and several students close to the epicenter of the blast could be seen visibly wincing and covering their ears. Otherwise, there was no clear indicator of the sound's origin
>Even so, the authoritative tone behind the call, combined with the ear-shattering pitch, was enough to dispel your exhaustion and immediately set you on edge. Hell, if your last name had been thrown in, it could've been your mom screaming her head off
>Before you can react, an unseen force begins tunneling through the sea of students, making a beeline towards you, sending anybody unfortunate enough to be in its way reeling as it charted its course
>What emerges from the parting of the waves is... not what you expected, to put it lightly. And you really weren't sure what you WERE expecting
>Before you stands a teenage girl with striking alabaster skin covered in THE most utterly tryhard /fa/ outfit you could imagine, paired with mountainous platform wedges that brought her just within visual range of your chin, and doing her best to light you on fire with her eyes
>And honestly, despite the absurdity of the situation, she was more than a little intimidating
>Hardly giving you a moment to even process what was happening, the ridiculous girl cleared her throat before launching into what struck you as a well-rehearsed tirade
>"Well, Anonymous, I hope you have something to say for yourself. There had better be a suitable explanation for your wildly inappropriate actions yesterday afterschool!"
>By now the other students had awkwardly returned to their morning routine, and the growing noise of the hall added to the shock of whatever the Hell had just happened proved too much for your sleep-deprived mind to handled
>Reaching a hand behind your head to scratch your neck, you glance around, hoping for some distraction to save you from your predicament.
>Finding none, you fall back on the tried and true
"Uhhhhhhh, what are you talking about?"

30.
>Shouldn't a did that
>"Don't play coy with me, Anonymous!" psychobitch snaps back. "I know all about your ploy to seduce young women and lead them away in that hideous sedan of yours!"
>You're about halfway into letting out a well-deserved "Bitch, What?" when a pale hand shoots up in front of your mouth, silencing you with a practiced flick
>The gesture should've been adorable, like a toddler trying to command a German Shephard, but in your current mental state you struggled to even keep up with this crazy chick
>"And as if that level of perversion weren't egregious enough, you even deigned to expose an innocent young lady to the filthy, brutish, TRIBAL-"
>This particular adjective was uttered with an even higher note of audible distaste, as if the word itself hurt to pronounce
>"- racket of that detestable ASAP Rocky fellow, and that is a transgression I simply cannot forgive!"
>Her ranting temporarily finished, the she-demon below you stared up into your eyes indignantly, wordlessly challenging you to respond
>And respond you did, but not with an eloquent rational response
>Instead you found yourself laughing like a maniac directly in the face of your assailant, gasps for air only occasionally broken by utterances of "Did she just ACTUALLY" and "Absolute madwoman"
>For her part, Michelle Pfeiffer's Catwoman was managing to hold back both her mounting aneurysm and growing urge to slap your shit into next week as you bawled like a child
>Unfortunately for her, the legendary expression of rage plastered on her face was only adding to your delirious giggle fit
>Just as she begins to muster up another round of (probably racist) accusations about your untoward behavior, second bell rings, signaling to the remaining students that now is the time to get your ass to class
>Out of time with which to interrogate you, the Grand Wizard of CHS turns on her oversized heel and stomps off in the direction of her homeroom,
>Hell, maybe today won't be so boring after all

31.
>Okay, maybe you had miscalculated
>Despite the morning's entertainment, Canterlot High was still an exercise in mind-numbing boredom
>Your homeroom teacher at least had the decency to let you off the hook for being late - mainly because your tardiness had long been proven irreparable - but Calculus class wasn't helping your muddled brain
>Nor was American History class, and by the time third period English rolled around the professor might as well have been an adult ina Charlie Brown cartoon
>Somehow, though, you had managed to go this long without falling asleep. That is, not long enough for anyone to notice, you were pretty sure. If they did, nobody said anything
>As the bell called for the end of third period, you breathed a sigh of sweet relief. You had made it through the morning slog and on to fourth period
>Gym Class
>To most students, Gym would have elicited a groan, or some stronger emotional response. For a Senior at CHS, though, Gym was nothing but a formality reserved for students who had slipped through the extracurricular cracks
>Or transferred in too late to join a club or sports team, in your case
>This meant that Gym class was usually filled with bumbling idiot who had no right to come within a hundred feet sports equipment, and in turn the unlucky "coaches" were thankful for the Senior students who didn't pose a threat to everyone around them
>For you, this generally meant adhering to strict safety protocol by hanging out on the bleachers, well away from the danger zone of braindead Freshmen, preferably in a horizontal position resembling a human resting state
>You were sure Coach Biceps wouldnt mind another day of diligent adherence to CHS Gym Safety Procedures