Chapter Four: Blood Red Vision
"Scootaloo, Scootaloo," Sweetie Belle softly called as she gently poked her new roommate in the arm.
Having awoken at five o'clock that particular Monday morning, Sweetie Belle was fully washed and dressed in a free flowing, knee-length, bright green and rose dress and a white t-shirt with a large pink heart on it. Her roommate of about thirteen hours, however, was still clad in the combination of a grey tank top and navy blue sweatpants that made up her nightwear. And it was a quarter past six o'clock—time for her to be waking up.
"Scootaloo, Scootaloo," Sweetie Belle called again, poking slightly harder. A smile started forming when Scootaloo stirred in the mess of comforter and blankets. But the smile dropped when Sweetie Belle realized that Scootaloo had only rolled over from her position of lying on her stomach to a position of lying on her back.
"No, Sweetie Belle, don't put it there," Scootaloo murmured in her sleep. Sweetie Belle gave her sleeping friend a quizzical, surprised expression, complete with a cocked brow and a blush in her cheeks, as her thoughts poured over the possibilities of what Scootaloo might be dreaming of. She couldn't really think of any and decided to focus on how to wake Scootaloo. She then glanced to the side, her blush fading away, and returned her gaze to Scootaloo with a plan and a devilish grin.
Sweetie Belle leaned forward on the bed, nearing her face to Scootaloo's right ear. She took a moment to inhale as much air as humanly possible before releasing it all at the top of her lungs and in her highest pitch.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"AHH!" Scootaloo yelled before shortly thrashing out in surprise and rising up from her slumber. She looked to Sweetie Belle, who was attempting to contain her laughter, a battle Sweetie Belle was losing. Scootaloo narrowed her eyes at Sweetie Belle in a glare worth thirty-seven daggers.
"What the hell was that for?!"
"Hehe, sorry," Sweetie Belle apologized with smile, "but it's time to get up."
Scootaloo rubbed her eyes. "Ya'know, I do have my phone set for six."
The smile on Sweetie Belle's face dropped. "Scootaloo, it's, like, 6:15." She glanced down at Scootaloo's phone resting on a duffel bag. "You might want to check your phone."
After finally rubbing some of the sleepiness from her eyes, Scootaloo reached down for her phone. She pushed to a few buttons to wake it from its slumber, but nothing happened. Scootaloo, thinking the phone might have just turned itself off, pressed and held the power button; but the screen remained dark and blank.
"Oh," Scootaloo groaned, falling back into bed. "Thing must've died while I was asleep."
Sweetie Belle raised a forefinger into the air and showed a grin on her face. "That's why we charge our phones when we use them for alarms."
Scootaloo rolled her eyes. "Great, you're a dictionary AND a 'Cell Phone for Dummies' book," she muttered before sighing and yelling, "But the closest outlet's all the way over there!" She pointed to the outlet right beside the doorway across from her bed.
"I think there is an outlet in the corner on the other side of your bed," Sweetie Belle said.
Scootaloo crawled across her bed to the large gap between it and the walls. Sure enough, there was a little white rectangle with two outlets in it.
"Fair enough," Scootaloo mumbled. She went to her duffel bag and pulled out a wall charger, plugging each end into its corresponding place. Upon plugging the bulky end into the bottom end, the phone came to life, and the image of a battery with bars inside of it appeared on the screen. Scootaloo just tossed the phone onto her bed and went back to rubbing her eyes. Her head throbbed in a nearly unbearable headache, and she felt nauseous almost to the point where she felt she could throw up at any minute.
"Ugh, I do not feel good," Scootaloo stated as she sat down on her bed.
Sweetie Belle walked over to Scootaloo, sitting by her, and placed the back of her hand onto Scootaloo's forehead. "You don't feel feverish," she said as put her hand down. "It could be withdrawal."
"That's what I think, too. I kinda felt bad yesterday, but it wasn't this bad. Maybe I should just stay home."
Sweetie Belle gave Scootaloo an objecting look. "No, you're going to school. You're not really sick, and it's really your fault you're going through this."
Scootaloo sighed crossly. "Fine! But I'm coming home if I start blowing chunks or something," she asserted with a finger leveled at Sweetie Belle before getting up to fetch some clothing.
Sweetie Belle's expression softened dramatically at the sight of Scootaloo's reaction. "Scootaloo," she began, turning to Scootaloo, who was digging through her duffel bag, "I didn't mean—"
"Forget it," Scootaloo grumbled, flicking away Sweetie Belle's intended apology with her hand, "You're right. This is all my fault, so I might as well deal with it." With a bundle of clothes tucked under her arm, Scootaloo stood up and headed for the door. She stopped, however, when her left wrist was suddenly seized by Sweetie Belle, who quickly got to her feet from the bed and embraced Scootaloo
"I'm sorry, Scoots. I didn't—"
"I said forget it, Sweetie Belle.". Scootaloo didn't waste a moment before returning it, unceremoniously dropping her clothes to the floor to do so with both arms.
"I know, but I don't like it when you get mad at me," Sweetie Belle said with her cheek lying on Scootaloo's shoulder, her standard resting place for her head when she hugged Scootaloo.
"I'm not mad, just not feeling well." Scootaloo broke apart from Sweetie Belle, and the two held each other at arms' length. "And I could never be mad at you."
The surprised blush on Sweetie Belle's face resurfaced, and it felt like it was expanding from her cheeks to her forehead. "Scootaloo, that's probably one of the most…mushy things I've ever heard you say. Where did that come from?"
Scootaloo took a moment to think about it and shrugged when she came across no answer, or rather a reasonable one that didn't spill her now-conscience affection to Sweetie Belle. "I don't know. I think I just got caught up in the moment. But hey, it did cheer you up."
The corner of Sweetie Belle's mouth turned upwards slightly in a half smile. "That it did. Thanks for that," she said before moving in for another squeeze. She only remained there for a moment after inhaling the air around her and Scootaloo through her nose and grimacing before stating, "You haven't showered yet."
Scootaloo chuckled, "You didn't give me a chance to."
Sweetie Belle quickly stepped back into their room, hands hidden from sight behind her back. "I'll let you do that."
Scootaloo only chuckled once more before picking up her clothes and walking to the bathroom to get ready for school.
Being a small high school in a small town, Ponyville High only employed a handful of teachers, focusing on the priority subjects such as math and English. However, this did not limit the array of classes offered to the students. Many classes were compressed into semester-length courses, while some were put upon the shoulders of other teachers that had little or nothing to do with their own subjects. The foreign languages teacher had to teach geography, a required subject. One teacher was teaching both business and computer classes; and another taught all the science classes except advanced freshman science, Introduction to Physical Science (a class completely dedicated to lab work that was often abbreviated to just 'I.P.S.' It was taught in the mornings by the junior high science teacher). The horticulture teacher doubled as an agriculture teacher, as did both of the physical education teachers, who taught either health or driver's education. The only subjects that had multiple teachers were physical education, math, and English, which all had two teachers each.
The school also had a block schedule, where the classes of the students would be split between two alternating days with four classes each day. This helped prepare the high school students for the academic schedule of college. And the system worked like a finely tuned machine; no problems occurred, with the exception of dropouts and kids that just don't care, but they were out of the school's reach of resolve.
A tired, sullen, hunched Scootaloo dragged herself behind a happily humming Sweetie Belle as the sun managed to peak out from behind the many clouds littering the sky, shining on their backs as they head west. Scootaloo dreaded each school day of her life, mainly because of two certain girls that played tormentor to her, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and a few other victims that had the misfortune of catching their seemingly rapacious eyes. They weren't always like that, trolling the school for embarrassing secrets and anything else that seemed to satisfy their sadistic hunger. One would disbelieve they were once actually decent human beings long ago, at a time when fairies were real and multiplication was the hardest thing ever. But once they hit their preteen years, their humanity vanished alongside innocence; and they targeted the group of girls since the beginning.
Of course, Scootaloo was never one for rolling over for them. Amongst her and her friends, she was the only one that didn't share the pacific view of dealing with them. She came to blows with them frequently during junior high, earning more than her fair share of detentions, parental meetings, and suspensions, which in turn often led to her own beatings as punishment from her father. The little cycle led to Scootaloo coming up with her own theory about how the world works, 'resistance only furthers misery.'
After about a fifteen-minute walk, the high school came into view just down the road. Several students had gathered in groups too varied to be cliques, either in front of the school or out in the student parking lot, and were now discussing with one another the events in life of the past few hours that they hadn't bothered to text or post publicly. As for Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, they were their own group, with Apple Bloom the only one absent.
However, it seemed they were the ones absent when they arrived at their usual spot, a green iron bench out in front of their school, and saw Apple Bloom already there. Quite often, she would be the one to arrive last, since the Apples lived out of town and Apple Bloom regularly hitched a ride with her siblings to school and into town. But now she was there, sitting on the bench and hugging her knees, accompanied by a novel member to their little gang: Featherweight.
Featherweight was an odd soul, or at least that's how most saw him. He was scrawny and short, and was claimed to the second smallest in the school, beating Apple Bloom by an inch or two. His physique was a complete contrast from that of his brother, one of the physical education teachers at the school and the school's health teacher. Academically, he was one of the best, giving Sweetie Belle a run for her money for valedictorian even now in their freshman year. He didn't talk to many and preferred a life in the shadows, especially when Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were around. Mostly, he hung around Rumble and Pipsqueak; but lately, Scootaloo had noticed, he had been hanging around Apple Bloom whenever the two were alone.
Upon seeing Featherweight, Scootaloo scrunched her face in confusion as she and Sweetie Belle walked up the sidewalk running past the school and the benches. Apple Bloom saw them and smiled whilst giving a small wave.
"Hey, girls," she greeted casually, as if the events of the past few days had never happened.
"Hey, Apple Bloom," both Sweetie and Scootaloo replied, cheerily for Sweetie Belle but wearily for Scootaloo.
"Hey, Featherweight," Sweetie Belle greeted after Apple Bloom's salutation without delay.
Scootaloo, however, didn't even spare him a look. Essentially, she was sour to anyone outside of the three of them and Rainbow Dash because she knew that they all knew of her addiction to those pills, courtesy of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. To her, every glance was a laugh at her expense, every greeting a mocking insult. She felt she could very well just be paranoid, but she should have the right after years of being in the center of ridicule so often.
"Hi, Sweetie Belle. Hi, Scootaloo," Featherweight said shyly, "Don't worry about me, I was just leaving." He lifted himself up from the bench only an inch or two before Apple Bloom sat up and grabbed his shoulder to pull him down.
"No, ya weren't," Apple Bloom declared, "Sweetie and Scoots don't mind if you're here." She turned her attention to Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, her eyes suggesting an agreement, "Right?"
"Sure!" Sweetie Belle agreed with a thick, sappy smile, "More the merrier!
Scootaloo groaned, holding her stomach and hunching more than she had been. "Ugh, your infectious attitude is making me sicker."
Sweetie Belle puffed out her bottom lip, giving Scootaloo an offended pout. "Why do you always have to be a grumpy gal?"
"I think I have the right, especially after the past three days I went through," rebutted Scootaloo.
Sweetie Belle just sighed, "I guess so."
Scootaloo reached into her right pants pocket with the hand that wasn't holding her backpack slung over her left shoulder and pulled out her phone to check the clock. 8:01 a.m.—about nine minutes before the first bell of the day rang.
"Today's a B day, right?" she asked almost with a grunt, placing her phone back into her pocket. The rest of the group concurred; and Scootaloo let out a full, incensed groan.
"That means we have a test in I.P.S. today," she directed to Sweetie Belle, half-stating and half-asking. Sweetie nodded in agreement.
"But," Sweetie Belle began, accenting it with a poke to Scootaloo's upper arm, "what class do we have at the end of the day?"
Scootaloo's expression promptly refreshed at the realization. For her, 'B' school days brought the tiresome classes of I.P.S., freshman English, and, as of the second semester they were already waist-deep in, geography. However, Fate seemed to reward Scootaloo for her troubles throughout the day by gifting her a class very few freshmen have the privilege of taking: first-year foods class, taught by Miss Sweetdrops (though, the class should've been called 'first-year baking', Scootaloo often thought, since they mostly made cookies, brownies, or cupcakes). And as a bonus to all the baked goods, having one of the best teachers in the school, and the fact that she was passing the class with a ninety-seven, Sweetie Belle was her cooking partner; and even though Sweetie was never really good at the cooking part of the class, she did provide good company—especially now.
"Okay, so it shouldn't so bad today."
The first bell rang, punctuating Scootaloo's thought and the group's time together, causing the masses to flock to the door. The four were amongst the last to get in, trudging up the stairs to the freshman lockers on the third floor. The lockers for each class were assigned alphabetically, meaning that Apple Bloom's locker was all the way down the hall from Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, who were separated by a single person, Silver Spoon.
Scootaloo, despite her usual messiness, had created a system that limited the amount of time she spent at her locker; she put all her textbooks for a school day in her backpack the school day before. Grabbing a fresh notebook when she needed it was all she ever had to do at her locker.
And she needed one, but she froze in place when she saw Silver Spoon at her own locker. Deciding that it wasn't worth it, Scootaloo quickly slipped through the crowd of people toward the lab at the other end of the third floor and breathed a sigh of relief when she made it without incident before walking in.
Roughly two hours later, the bell that ended third period rang. The I.P.S. test was hell and Scootaloo couldn't believe that she was somehow able to finish it before the end of the first hour. As she absentmindedly hurried down the stairs, she mentally wondered how she even got into that class in the first place.
So far, school had been going well for her. No one bugged her about her habit; actually, no one aside from Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and, for a brief moment during second period study hall, Featherweight had bothered to talk to her. Classes had just been released for lunch, a relief that Scootaloo took thankfully, as she quickened her steps into a jog outside and for the bench behind the school.
Students and teachers at Ponyville High were allowed half an hour for lunch, which was off-campus for most since the closest thing to a cafeteria the high school had was a small break room with a couple of vending machines. Some went home for lunch, some to the local diner or (mostly) Sugar Cube Corner for their lunch specials; but a handful went against the grain and settled for one of the many picnic tables that were scattered across the campus. Students that were responsible enough found their way back to the school roughly five minutes before the bell, and those that were not typically didn't bother coming in the first place.
Scootaloo was amongst those that didn't literally go off-campus for lunch, along with her company of Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom. The three of them always secured a lone picnic table that rested in the shadow of the school, which gave them their privacy—sometimes.
And as always on a B day, Scootaloo made it to the table first, backpack in hand. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom shared third period P.E., and the walk from the gym (which was in a second building on the grounds that also housed the agriculture classes, chorus and band, and the shop classes). The spot, situated in a nook the architecture of the school building created, was shaded by the towering school a handful of feet away from it and was accompanied by the rusty fire escape stairs that lead from the third floor of the building. A couple of foot-long flower boxes sat on the ground, completely empty, and the table sat on a platform of tightly fit red bricks. Underneath the fire escape was a door to the first-floor hallway, but it was always locked for some reason.
Scootaloo took no time to dawdle before seating herself, taking a seat facing way she had come, around the right side of the building. The table was a little banged up and probably had a few years over Scootaloo, but it was nonetheless comfortable. It didn't have a varnished finish to it, and the middle board was warped and bent upward. Still somehow, the bench was perfect for the three.
Scootaloo reached into her backpack, digging through loose papers and trash before finally pulling out the lunch bag given to her by Pearl. It was once Rarity's from before her high school years, a gaudy, deep purple thing with the usual trio of icy blue diamonds embroidered by hand into the flap guarding the main pouch. Scootaloo rolled her eyes at the bag, silently hoping she would get her own lunch bag soon. Though, she'd have to admit that she was surprised this morning when Pearl already had a lunch made up and packed for her. Usually, she would have to make her own or, in the cases she had nearly overslept and simply didn't have time, use what little money she had to buy one of those nauseating shit-heaps that were called a 'school lunch' that the high school brought from the elementary school.
Her stomach growled out an order for Scootaloo to start unpacking her lunch. Curiously, she shook the bag a little to get a hint of its contents, like a kid during the holidays. A couple of hefty items could be felt rattling inside, and Scootaloo put it down and pulled the zipper on the main flap. She tossed it open and revealed its treasure, to which she swiftly facepalmed. The two heavy things were an ice pack and a clear, hard plastic bottle of what was clearly lemonade that had crushed a bag of toasted cheese crackers into dust and squashed what was once an obviously delightful sandwich wrapped in a bag. Scootaloo looked dejectedly at the sandwich before grabbing it and popping open the deflated storage bag holding it. Despite its mashed state, it was still soft in her hands, the enticing smells of sweet grape jelly and creamy peanut butter wafting up from between the slices of white bread.
Scootaloo reached down with her mouth and bit off a piece of the sandwich right from the middle of the top. A satisfied hum rolled over her tongue alongside the mouthful, pleased at its quality; not too much peanut butter to dry her mouth and not too much grape jelly to overpower the peanut butter. It was a balance she herself had yet to master.
Scootaloo placed the sandwich on the bag and fished out the bottle of lemonade. After twisting the lid open, she took a curious sniff, recoiling at the strong, sour scent. But in spite of the aroma, she took a sip. The smell had lied; it was much, much sourer than it had depicted. Scootaloo pulled back, coughing and puckering her cheeks. But being the glutton for punishment that she was (not to mention her parchedness), Scootaloo returned to the lemonade with gusto, growing accustomed to its tang.
In the quietness of the spot, Scootaloo finally heard the two voices she had been expecting to arrive any minute. Within seconds, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom came from the same way Scootaloo did, rounding the corner. They had been conversing about something that happened during P.E. until Sweetie Belle saw Scootaloo and a gave small, if enthusiastic, wave of her free hand, causing the plastic, silvery pieces of cosmetic bracelets on her wrist to jingle boisterously.
"Hey, Scoots," Sweetie Belle said, clearly still in her usual optimistic mood as she and Apple Bloom took their seats at the table, "How was English class?"
"Nightmarish," Scootaloo replied flatly, "My mind and eyes feel like they've been tortured." She held out up a finger. "First by electroshock," Scootaloo held up another finger, "then by having salt shoved into a wound they didn't even know they had." Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom exchanged shocked glances as Scootaloo went back to eating her sandwich.
"That was graphic," Sweetie Belle observed.
"Not ta mention disturbin'," Apple Bloom added.
Scootaloo just shrugged at their comments. "Hey, I'm a twisted soul with an apparent knack for mentally scarring descriptions. So, what were you guys talking about?"
"Nothin'!" Apple Bloom instantly blurted out, blushing profusely at the harmless question.
Sweetie Belle giggled and sarcastically said, "Sure it is."
"Alright, alright, out with it," Scootaloo demanded.
Sweetie Belle, despite Apple Bloom's protests, leaned over the table and whispered into Scootaloo's ear. Apple Bloom started fiddling with her lunch, the generous rosiness on her face growing in both size and intensity. As Sweetie Belle whispered into her ear, Scootaloo narrowed her eyes at Apple Bloom.
"You're a perv," Scootaloo commented when Sweetie Belle pulled away. "Did anyone else see her?" she asked Sweetie.
Sweetie Belle shook her head. "Nope, I'm the only one that caught her staring."
A grin spread across Scootaloo's face. "At least she wasn't staring at his junk."
Apple Bloom decided not to say anything and instead, buried her face into her hands.
"Who knows?" Sweetie Belle replied, "Maybe she was, and I didn't catch her."
Scootaloo turned to Apple Bloom, "Did you?"
Apple Bloom tried to shrink herself down to as small as she could.
Scootaloo's eyes widened. "You did, didn't you?"
"No!" Apple Bloom shouted before receding back down. "Ah didn't look at…that."
Scootaloo shook her head. After a second of thought, she studied Apple Bloom, shriveled up in her seat. Apple Bloom was still greatly flushed, fidgeting with her food, and was careful about making eye contact with neither Sweetie Belle nor Scootaloo. She was definitely embarrassed, but she didn't seem angry or annoyed. "So, about Featherweight…you gonna ask him out?"
Apple Bloom didn't respond.
"What's the matter? Too afraid he'll say no, or too traditional to be the one to ask him?"
"N-No, none o' that."
Scootaloo cocked an eyebrow. "So what's the problem?"
Apple Bloom finally looked up to Scootaloo and showed the start of a small grin. "Ah already did, three weeks ago. He said yeah, and we've been goin' out since."
Surprise flashed itself across Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle's faces. It was obvious they were both astonished and a little hurt that their friend hadn't revealed this news to them sooner.
"And you've kept this a secret from us for almost three weeks?" Sweetie Belle asked.
"Sorry," Apple Bloom apologized shamefacedly, "but we just agreed not to tell anybody. He hasn't even told Rumble or Pipsqueak yet."
Sweetie Belle just smiled warmly and gave Apple Bloom a side-hug. "It's okay—right, Scootaloo?"
Scootaloo waved her hand apathetically. "Meh," she uttered before taking a large bite from her sandwich.
"'Sup, losers," an obnoxiously high-pitched, whiny voice said. Scootaloo swallowed the bite, noticing the horror-struck looks on Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom's faces. She turned her head to see two of the worst people on the planet approaching the side of the table from the left side of the school and the last two people she would want to see: Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.
The former tossed an orange bottle to Scootaloo, who caught it one-handedly and examined it. Of course, she knew exactly what it was, an empty medicine bottle, which sent her short fuse alight.
"Sorry, there couldn't be anything in it," Diamond said coldly, "but I thought you would at least appreciate sniffing it."
Scootaloo tossed the bottle away. "What you do want, Diamond?"
Silver Spoon fielded the question, stepping up beside Diamond to the edge of the picnic table, "We just want to see how our favorite little burnout is doing."
"Diamond, Silver, leave her alone," Sweetie Belle warned, standing up from her seat.
"What?" Diamond Tiara asked in forged innocence, shrugging at Sweetie Belle's words, "We're not doing anything. Besides, she wants to be just like Rainbow Dash; and I heard she likes party. It seems you're on your way to becoming quite the junkie."
"At least I'm not some bitchy little gold digger like my mother!" Scootaloo shot back.
Diamond Tiara smiled satisfactorily at the sound of the chord she had just struck while she walked around to Sweetie Belle's and Apple Bloom's side of the table and stood between them. "Well, if we're all just going to end up like our family, then little ol' 'A.B.' here," Diamond roughly tugged on the bow in Apple Bloom's hair, "is on the right track of becoming a dumb hick like the rest of her family."
Apple Bloom scrunched up her face in disgust at Diamond Tiara's comment, but she opted not to say anything.
"As for precious Sweetie Belle here," Diamond looked at Scootaloo with a malevolent grin, gleams shining off her canines as it grew, "I'm sure she'll end up being like her sister, a sophisticated little slut."
"AAAARRRGGGGGHHHHHHHH!" Scootaloo roared as she swiftly climbed onto the picnic table and threw herself onto Diamond. Her patience had all but petered out, and she was determined to shut her up—preferably with her fist.
Diamond Tiara held out her arms defensively to catch Scootaloo. They rolled a bit in the grass until Scootaloo properly secured Diamond Tiara underneath her. With her left hand gripping the collar of Diamond's shirt, Scootaloo reared her right hand back, already balled tightly into a fist, and brought it down with full force.
SMACK!
Diamond's head jerked to the side as Scootaloo's fist struck her cheekbone and pain seared in her knuckles. Scootaloo retracted her fist to prepare another punch, unsatisfied with the simple red mark on Diamond Tiara's pink cheek. No, she wanted blood.
She was just about to deliver another blow when an ear-bleeding whistle pierced through the air. Scootaloo looked up in fear to the figure, with dark pinkish-purple skin and two-toned pink hair, standing by the left side of the school, from where Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon had come, and scrambled to her feet. Once again, she had been caught fighting with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon by Cheerilee—Principal Cheerilee.
