Finally, it's Saturday.
True to my word, I have been staying in bed and letting my leg rest apart from showering and grabbing breakfast. For the past couple of hours, I have been playing Civilization 5 on my laptop online with Soarin and Caramel and talking to them via headset.
"So we exchanged numbers, and then she kissed me on the cheek before she walked home," I say, finishing telling the events of yesterday to my friends.
"Dude, that's awesome!" Soarin exclaims from the headset. "You've moved up from just asking her name. Well done, man."
"I don't know," says Caramel. "Are you sure you are okay with how she laughed at you? We know how seriously you feel about your stories."
"True, I certainly took it pretty hard when she did, I won't deny that," I say as I kept clicking the mouse to move my units in the game. "But she was sorry about it, and it sounded like we could work something out based on why she is interested in me."
"Still, that kind of sounds like a long shot. But hey, if you're happy about this thing with her so far, then I'm good with it for now."
I make a small smile at his response as I click my mouse to move my units around the map on the game. And then it hit me to ask, "Hey Caramel, I know that this is probably too soon to ask, but how are you holding up about Applejack?"
For a moment, Caramel says nothing. I stop playing for a moment, growing worried about whether or not he will say anything. After a moment, Caramel gently answers, "It still hurts. What happened the other night haunts me, to be honest. I wanted to at least talk to her for so many years, and it looked like I was finally going to do it. But the only things I said to her that night were apologies, directions to my house when she took me home, and yelling out a name that wasn't even mine, and I was otherwise stuttering, watching her friends giggle at me. Heck, I practically was shyer than Fluttershy of all people. Fluttershy! I want to go back in time and try again and say a full sentence to her without being nervous about being so close to her."
I contemplate on his words as the three of us continue playing. I began to feel guilty for making him try to talk to Applejack. I also remember how I was thinking of helping him out before Pinkie Pie yanked me to dance to 'try and impress the girls.' Maybe if she didn't, I would have been able to be his wingman and help him come out of his shell. Or perhaps Soarin could have aided him first before he made a move on Rainbow Dash. I don't know.
I hear Soarin's voice in the speakers on the headset, which snaps me out of my thoughts.
"You know, I could ask Rainbow Dash to ask her how she feels about the other night. After all, you said it yourself that she was nice about it and maybe even flattered. So maybe Dash could confirm how she felt, and we could figure out a way where you could try again."
"Really?" Caramel responds questionably. "Do you think that could work?"
"I say it's worth a try," I answer for Soarin. "If Rainbow Dash were in on this conversation, she probably would say something similar to what she told me about just going for it. Nothing wrong with trying again."
"Heh. I guess I have nothing left to lose at this point, se could give it a try," Caramel responds.
"Okay, now you pretty much sound like me," I say with a smirk.
"Meh, whatever. I can live with that for now," Caramel says jokingly.
After a couple of hours, we finish playing Civ 5 to our heart's content. We said our "talk to you later's and logged off to do whatever else we each had planned, which in my case is just staying in bed and playing a different video game. One thing you can never get enough of is the many ways to relax after putting up with five days of high school. The only downside is there's so much to do in very little time. Hmmm. Now that I think about it, I wonder what Octavia does on her weekends.
Right as I thought that, however, I hear my phone buzzing inside my pocket. I take it out and see that I have a text from, who else? Octavia.
"Well, speak of the lovely lady," I say to myself with a small chuckle.
I open it up and go on the messages app to read her brief text.
Octavia: Good afternoon, Rough Draft. How's the leg today?
I smile at her simple message as I come up with a silly response.
Me: Oh, it's horrible! Apparently, the dodgeballs really were made out of mithril, and the hit damaged my calves to the point that the muscles turned to jelly, and they had to cut it off. But the good news is I get a really cool robotic leg, so epic win!
I send the text with a smirk on my face. I can only guess how in the world she's going to respond to my joke. Thankfully it didn't take long.
Octavia: Wow. You really are a complete dork, aren't you?
Ha! She fell into my trap!
Me: Well, you had just gone on a date with the said complete dork.
Octavia: Touché :p
Me: ;) All joking aside, though, it's fine. The worst is over, so I don't need to get so worried about walking, I think.
Octavia: So you're saying that you might break your word as a gentleman and use that leg?
Me: Technically, I had to anyway. I do need to shower and get food.
Octavia: *scoffs* Typical of so-claimed gentlemen to make excuses.
Me: Yes, I am so sorry, madam. Is there any way I can make up for my actions?
At the last one, she does not immediately respond. Usually, I would be concerned about this, but I have a feeling she is probably thinking of some clever punishment. I went back to play in my game, waiting for her next message. After a few minutes, my phone vibrates again. I quickly pause the game, grab my phone and opened the message.
Octavia: Well, since you are interested in falling back into my good graces, then I suggest you come to the Classical Fall Concert tomorrow night.
Hmm. Interesting choice. Punishment by falling asleep.
Me: Is that all? I don't see how falling asleep while listening to quiet music counts as a real punishment.
I turn back to my game, pleased with my comeback. I can only imagine what she was thinking with that kind of answer.
The phone vibrates, and I picked it up to find her response.
Octavia: I am performing a solo act at the concert.
...awkward.
Me: Oh. Sorry.
Octavia: It's fine. She replied, but the way I read it, it didn't sound like she meant it. But you should know that it's a performance that I've been practicing for a couple of months and neither my parents or Vinyl are unable to come. I do want someone I know to come and watch me, so you would do well to not so much as sleep a wink while there.
I began to feel uneasy about how careless I just was. I can imagine her saying that reply with a cold, stern sound in her voice. This is a terrible time to forget that she did mention that she is a musician. It didn't help that she confirmed that she appears to specialize in classical music. I wasn't just making a joke about falling asleep. I do think that it's a boring genre. I simply don't understand the appeal of the whole thing. It's mostly just strung instruments and trumpets to me, really.
And yet, she did become more open to my writing eventually, so it's only fair that I at least try to do the same with her music.
With all the uneasiness that I had, I slowly gave my response.
Me: Where and at what time?
The next night, I went to the Canterlot Music and Arts Center for Octavia's concert. As I enter the building, I felt really uncomfortable standing around all these people with their fancy suits and dresses. I knew I should have asked my dad for help, or at least ask Octavia if there is dress code for this thing. But instead, I was too nervous to ask her after the way she seemed to react when we texted, so I just guessed with clean jeans and a buttoned shirt.
This is going to be a long night.
On the bright side, I'm prepared for not falling asleep. I stayed in bed most of the day, and my beverages after that consisted of sodas and a frappuccino on the way here. With all the caffeine running through my bloodstream, there is no way that I am going to so much as yawn throughout the entire night.
I enter the auditorium and gaze in awe at its size. It had a massive looking stage, hundreds of seats, even a couple of balconies on both sides. Eventually, I found my seat in the center of the middle row. I had to squeeze my way through people to get to my chair. Finally, I got myself comfortable and then took out my bulletin to look at when Octavia is supposed to perform. I find her name appearing halfway through the list of performances after intermission. So I just need to stay awake for at least three-quarters of the concert. That should be easy enough...I hope.
"Excuse me," says a snooty voice coming from my right side.
I turn to see a teenage couple sitting right next to me. They both have their eyes half-open and their chins are slightly sticking out.
"I believe you're in the wrong place," says the guy. "This is a concert for sophisticated people who respect the art of music. The little GAP store is several blocks down the road."
The girl giggles at the boy's comment.
"Oh Jet Set, what a witty insult," she comments.
"Ah, yes, I have no idea how I do it, Upper Crust," the boy replies with pride.
Despite my slight annoyance from his 'insult,' I manage to keep a reasonable attitude. "Yeah, I didn't know what the right dress code for this thing was, so I guessed," I say.
Both of them respond with a snooty chuckle.
"You guessed? Typical lower class teenagers, wearing pitiful attire without a care," says Jet Set.
At that, I decide just to ignore them, accepting that they were not worth it.
Suddenly, the lights dim, and the audience applauds in response. I slowly join the clapping just in time to see a man enter the stage with a microphone in his hand. The applause dies down as he began to speak. I don't bother to pay a lot of attention to what he said, mostly just greeting everyone, reminding us to silence cell phones and talking about the history of this annual concert and these big fancy charities.
After a few minutes, he finishes his speech with a 'thank you,' and the audience applauds again. Then the first performance of the night began with a woman in her 50s in an elaborate golden dress playing the violin. The song she played had a fast tempo for a classical song...at least from my ignorant point of view. When it ends, I was beginning to think 'so far so good.'
Maybe this won't be very hard to focus on after all.
*2 hours and a 30 minutes later*
I feel something flick my nose, and I open my eyes. Jet Set is right in front of my face, his own showing a look of irritation.
"Do you mind?" he whispers loudly. "We can't pay attention with your atrocious snoring!"
After one more flick, I jump, wide awake, and checked my surroundings. I look at the stage to see a man and a woman playing the piano and the flute. I check to look in my bulletin to see where we're at in the concert, but I realize that it's out of my hand. I look around for it, but it fell underneath the chairs from the next row.
I turn to Jet Set and Upper Crust and whisper, "Hey, I dropped my bulletin, do you know how close we are to intermission?"
"Intermission was well over half an hour ago," Upper Crust quietly replies without turning to look at me.
Oh. Crap.
"Yes, you were so rudely sound asleep that the people on your left who wanted to leave had to go the other way." Jet Set adds while also not looking.
Oh, this doesn't sound good.
"Has Octavia Melody performed yet?" I whisper worriedly. But this time, neither of them respond.
"Please, tell me she hasn't already gone," Again, no reply.
"Okay, I'm really sorry that I fell asleep and that I was snoring. I really have been trying not to all day. Just please tell me, did I miss Octavia!?"
My loud whisper is meet with several people in the audience shushing me. I put my hands up to everyone, expressing I'm sorry and turn back to Jet Set and Upper Crust. But before I ask again, Jet Set turns and gives me a hard glare, and I reluctantly faced forward to the stage.
I sigh heavily in worry as I run my hands through my hair. I have no idea if I missed her performance, but my gut kept telling me that I probably did. I groan as I start to imagine the worst: the concert ends, I find Octavia at the main entrance, I tell her that I slept over her performance and she becomes enraged and slaps me really hard in the face with a scream. Then she shouts that she doesn't ever want to speak to me again, and runs off before I get a chance to apologize.
I become so focused on that thought that I barely notice the audience applauding. As I half-heartedly join the clapping, I watch a small group of backstage people help move the piano away as the couple leave and set a small chair and a stand right at the very center of the stage. When the couple and the backstage people were gone, and the applause dies, I look at the right side of the stage to see someone that took a load off my chest.
Thank you, Lord.
Octavia walks toward the middle of the stage, wearing a long, plain red dress and carrying a bow and a music book in one hand, and in the other, an instrument that I have no idea what it is called. It looks like a violin but bigger, roughly around two-thirds of Octavia's height. Once she made it to her seat, she reaches the bottom of the instrument and extends a long thin pin looking piece and placed it on the floor.
She places her music book on the stand and opens it. Then she sits down, looks around at the audience with a look of concern on her face, looks down, and lets out a soft sigh. Then with her eyes closed and her head up, she places the bow on the strings and begins to play.
The rough, strong notes that came out of the instrument first nearly startle me. Octavia is moving her bow back and forth rapidly as high and low notes roar all over the auditorium. Yet despite her fast pace, Octavia's face remains completely calm, as if she is in a sort of peaceful trance even with these loud clashes of various pitches. Then, after flicking a few strings with her bow, the music began to grow quieter. The notes become more mellow and played at a lower speed. Typically , this is where I would start to lose interest, and I likely would nod off again, but I don't. I keep on listening. I couldn't help but be interested in what was coming from the instrument. There is something about it that makes it feel as if there was something or many things that it was trying to let out specifically, but there was no real way to figure out what it is. As if a story is being told through this piece of music and Octavia has her mind mentally fixed on telling it. After a few minutes into the song, I begin to feel that she is reaching the climax. The notes start to build up into something, but in one moment, she plays a few quick low notes, and the song was over.
The audience starts the applause, and though I was taken aback to the rushed ending, I was quick to join in. Without a word, Octavia stands up, takes a bow, grabs her music book, and walks off stage.
The last dozen or so performances after Octavia went by. Neither of them made me fall asleep, but they also didn't hook me like her performance did.
Yeah, I'm biased, what about it? It's my first time here, I can't stay invested in this kind of music worth a crap, and I like the pretty girl with the... big, violin, thingy. Sue me.
The concert ends with the guy from the beginning saying thank you and bringing up more history about the music community, and heaven knows what else before he finishes his speech, and we all start to exit the auditorium.
We all make our way to the main hall, waiting for the performers to exit from backstage to meet us. I'm feeling a little nervous to see Octavia because I don't know how she was going to react over the fact that I did sleep through most of the concert.
I notice Jet Set and Upper Crust heading their way out. I figure that they would ignore me, but it is worth giving a try to at least talk to them briefly. I walk toward them and say, "Hey, Jet Set, Upper Crust."
They turn around and make a grunt, clearly not pleased to see me.
"What do you possibly want?" Jet Set asks rudely.
"I just want to thank you," I say kindly. "I wouldn't have been able to watch Octavia perform if you hadn't woken me up."
"And just what makes you think we care?" Upper Crust says, uninterested.
"I just figured I should at least thank you. I don't know what I would do if I missed her," I reply.
"Well, whatever it was, you deserve it," Jet Set says bluntly. "Low-class dorks are not worth the time of performers like this Octavia."
And with a huff from both of them, they walk out.
Well, they seem like lovely people.
I go back to looking around before I eventually find Octavia. She is standing in the middle of the crowd, holding a large case that contains her instrument, and I think she is looking for me. I walk over to her, and she turns and sees me. For a moment, we just stare at each other. Then without warning, Octavia steps toward me and hugs me.
I was thinking about hugging her back when she broke it off and says, "You came," with a smile.
"Of course, I came. I wouldn't dream of missing it," I say, smiling.
"I'm glad you did. I really appreciate it," she says before she notices my clothing and raises an eyebrow. "Though I did expect you would have a much more casual attire."
"Yeah, sorry about that," I say with my hand on the back of my head. "I didn't think of asking you what exactly was the right kind of clothing, so I guessed."
Octavia snickers as she says kindly, "You could have just asked me."
"Well, I would have, but I was a little nervous because you did sound kind of pissed at me for making fun of the whole coming-to-the-concert deal," I explain.
Her smile falters, changing to an edgy look.
"I guess I did sound a little harsh while we were texting yesterday. But in fairness, you were rather rude," she says.
"No, I agree," I say, "But I'm glad all the same that I was able to come and watch you play...uh...that instrument."
At that, Octavia raises her eyebrow again.
"You have no idea what this is called, do you?" she asks bluntly.
I scratch the back of my head again and slowly say, "Yyyyyyyyyeeeeeeaaaahhhhh. As far as I can tell, it's a giant violin."
She rolls her eyes and scoffs.
"You're just like Vinyl," She says with a hint of annoyance. "It's called a cello.
"A cello," I say intrigued. "I'll be sure to remember that., I mean I haven't heard of anything like it until you played it."
At this, she gives me a confused look.
"What do you mean?" she asks.
I look at her nervously as I reluctantly ask, "What do you mean, what do I mean?"
Octavia looks at me with a raises eyebrow again as she plainly says, "Rough Draft, there were four other cellists before me.
D'oh! Busted!
Whatever facial expression is on my face at that moment, it is more than enough for Octavia to figure it out.
"You fell asleep." She says with a venomous glare.
For the third time, I scratch the back of my head.
"In my defense, I really did try not to. I stayed in bed most of the day and drank a lot of coffee."
She doesn't make a response; she just continues giving me the venomous glare.
"But I really was awake for your performance."
Again, no response.
"I thought it was a beautiful and fascinating piece of music... though I have to ask why the abrupt ending?" She glares even more. I begin to think the worst has happened.
But then she lets out a sigh.
"Well, I suppose fair is fair. I failed to not laugh about your writing, and now you fell asleep during the concert. And you did stay awake to watch me perform, and that's the important thing," she says.
I let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Octavia," I say sincerely.
We look at each other, smiling, not paying attention to the people around us.
After a few moments, Octavia clears her throat.
"Well, shall we be off?"
"Yes, let's go," I say, and we began our walk from the building.
During most of the walk, we are in complete silence. We just walk enjoying each other's company as we journey through the town and look at the lights from the building and the clear night sky.
Then we decide to walk through the park, and on the way, I notice us passing the bench we sat on the other night. I made the offer that we take a break from walking and sit down there again, which Octavia agrees.
We sit for a few moments before I look at her cello case, and I realize that I haven't asked how she got into playing the instrument, so I decide to try to strike a conversation.
"So...uh... how long have you been playing the cello exactly?" I ask.
She looks at me, hesitant to answer.
"Are you really interested, or are you just being polite?" She asks somewhat suspiciously.
"I am interested," I say without missing a beat. "I may not know much about this kind of music, but I do know that you played beautifully."
She blushes lightly before I continue.
"And I did express what brought me into writing, so I think it's fair that you do the same."
"Well, it's a very long story," she says plainly.
"I think we have plenty of time," I say without hesitation. "I can tell that it means a lot to you, and I would like to know why."
She makes a small chuckle before answering, "Well, it feels like I pretty much have been playing since forever, give or take even though I've only been playing for a couple of years. My parents are famous musicians back at Manehattan, and they wanted me to find an instrument of my own to play. I liked the idea at first, but seeing that I was a little kid at the time, I found trying to find the right instrument to be incredibly dull. But then a few years ago, my grandfather died. I was very close with him, so like any child, I was crushed, feeling like my world was falling apart. But during the funeral, there was an old man who was a friend of my grandfather. Shortly after he spoke a eulogy for my grandfather, someone walked to the piano, and he took out a cello, set it right next to the open coffin, and they began to play.
The pianist was the first to play. It was a simple, blue tune that went on for less than a minute, but once that man with the cello played, I was entranced. It was a sorrowful but deep melody that he repeated throughout the whole song, despite changing the pitches now and then. It was at that moment as I watched him pour so much emotion into his music that I felt that maybe this wooden instrument is what I was meant to play.
During the reception, I saw him in a corner with his cello, probably rooted in thought over my grandfather's death. I was nervous about approaching him, but part of me just felt like I needed to talk to him. I wanted to ask how he knew my grandfather and how he could play such powerful music. So I came up to him and introduced myself, and he quietly said his name was Madrigal. I was intimated at his rather broody demeanor at first, but I reluctantly asked him about how he knew my grandfather. He didn't reply at first, but then he said that he and my grandfather were in an orchestra for 20 years before he left to travel and write his own music while my grandfather stayed in Manehattan to continue performing at the orchestra for his family."
"The way he told it to me, it sounded like they were not on good terms when they went their separate ways. Apparently, they had started to speak again only a mere couple of weeks before my grandfather died. The news seemed to hurt him enough that it inspired him to write that song so he could play it at the funeral. Well, I was confused about actually writing new music for classical instruments because my family raised me to focus only the music from back in the classical era. I guess that would explain why Madrigal and my grandfather went their separate ways."
I give a brief nod of understanding, showing that I am paying attention.
"Anyway, I nervously asked him to teach me how to play the cello, and that I wanted to understand more about his work and be able to play like him. At first, he seemed ready to refuse without so much as a thought, but then he looked at my eyes. I don't know for sure what it was that stopped him, but maybe he saw how sincere I was. Whatever the case, he agreed to tutor me."
"For the next couple of months, he taught me how to play the cello. I had a rough start, to say the least, and he was reluctant to practice with known classic pieces as it was what I know best, but he was patient enough in the long run, probably for the sake of my grandfather."
"Eventually, however, Madrigal tried to teach me to make my own music. He felt that I was ready to follow into his footsteps, as opposed to my grandfather's. I wasn't as comfortable with starting to write my own songs, but Madrigal wasn't willing to wait. He practically forced me to try to write my own songs, but I couldn't come up with anything because I'm better at reading the music than writing it. I could play improv music, but that did not satisfy him. After a while, he seemed to have had enough and stopped scheduling practices. As you can imagine, I was disheartened. I felt like I was so close and yet so far from being the musician I was hoping to be. I still played whenever I could, either from classical pieces or out of improv, but it didn't feel the same without his guidance. Eventually, I would play at the school orchestra, and surprisingly was a little popular for it."
"Oh yeah? How so?" I ask.
"Well... I think it was best explained to my musical conductor who said I have more beauty and passion with my cello than most of the other members of the orchestra," Octavia answers. "And keep in mind that I was in a very high society kind of high school, so everyone had a knack for making a big deal when a student is particularly skilled at something so...fancy, for lack of a better word. I admit I enjoyed the attention for a while. Students were moved by what I played, and even some boys were showing interest in me. I didn't date any of them because they all were very stuck up and arrogant about how 'high class' they are, but at the same time, it was fun to be acknowledged by so many guys."
"Well, sure. That tends to happen when there's a girl that's pretty and talented like you," I say.
Octavia rolled her eyes before smiling sweetly for the compliment. But it only lasts a moment before her face falls and she continues her story.
"But despite all of that, a part of me felt like I was betraying everything Madrigal taught me by thinking about what people thought as opposed to focusing on the music. Over time, I tried to avoid the attention and just let my music be private. Just play my music at home where I can let out whatever emotions I had."
"Then the day came shortly after school started this year that my parents decided to move here to Canterlot. I was both ecstatic and saddened with the news. I wanted to start over in a place where I would not be so well known, but at the same time, Manehattan was my home. But worst had yet to come as shortly before we left, learned that Madrigal had died. I was so devastated that when we came to our new home, I spent most of my free time just staying in my room and playing. All I wanted to do was let out how depressed that my mentor and a close friend to my grandfather is gone. But thankfully, my parents kicked me out of the house one day to go out and look around the new town and try to mingle with kids my age. That is when I met Vinyl Scratch. I was walking down the park when I bumped into her, not looking. At first, we started to fight, but after a while, we started to lower our defenses and talk about our interest in music. She took me to her place and showed me her rather ginormous room for playing her dubstep. I was very irritated at her unusual taste in music, but I was starting to get into it a little with some of her...tracks I think she calls it? I'm not sure."
"Yeah, that's the right term," I answer.
"Heh, shows how much I still don't really understand her music," she replies with a shrug. "At any rate, I won't deny that Vinyl and I don't always get along, but she has been there for me ever since I came here. She listens whenever I talked about my time in Manehattan and about my passion for playing the cello, and while I hardly am a fan of her music, we have been working on finding an understanding between our respective genres. It's a rather trying process, but Vinyl as proven to be very laid back and caring. She also has been there to help me make new friends from school. Honestly, I feel more at home with my new friends than I ever really did at Manehattan."
For a few minutes, we sit in silence before Octavia scoffs.
"Oh, listen to me, going from how long I've been playing the cello to telling you practically my life's story," she says.
"Oh no, it's fine. I like learning more about you," I state.
"Oh, you are far too kind, Rough Draft," She says plainly.
I respond with a fake offended scoff, "Too kind? I don't know the meaning of the phrase."
She rolls her eyes at my response with a small chuckle.
"You know you are a really silly person, right?"
I shrug before I say in response.
"I have my moments, I suppose," I reply.
She chuckles again before she smiles with her deep, violet eyes staring at me. I smile back as my green eyes stare at her in response. From that moment, neither of us says a word but sits there staring at each other.
After a while, we continue our walk to her house, but we still told a few stories along the way. While we enter her driveway, she is laughing out loud at my story about my attempt to join the Battle of the Bands with Caramel and Soarin.
"A-are you serious?!" She asks, barely controlling her laughter.
"Sure am," I state proudly. "When The Dazzlings manipulated all of us to have a Battle of the Bands, Caramel, Soarin, and I were quick to form our awesome band: Revan and the Soaring Revanites. We named it to show our love for the most awesome character in the Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic games; Revan. Caramel was on the drums, Soarin was on his guitar, and I was the singer with my new Revan costume, mask and everything. I was all too eager to sing out how awesome he is."
"Oh my word, you were that one band with the singer wearing that dorky outfit!" Octavia exclaims.
"Hey!" I exclaim back. "That is the outfit of the Star Wars character who is like Batman if he was a force user that was a Jedi, then had his will bent so that he became a Sith but became a Jedi again, was twice as passionate in stopping evil and was more powerful than most force users in the Star Wars universe; Jedi and Sith alike. And next to Kylo Ren, he had the most epic mask ever!"
"I hate to break it to you, Rough Draft," Octavia says in between laughs. "But that mask covered your whole face and kept everyone from having any idea what you were singing. You three were probably too focused on your... 'performance' to notice how much we were all in hysterics. Why else do you think you guys failed the audition?"
I shrug in response before I proudly say, "Whatever, I got a Revan outfit out of competing in the Battle of the Bands, and it was the best 300 bucks I ever spent."
Octavia snickers at my proud declaration.
"That's...nice," she says with all the self-control she could muster.
We make it to her front porch, where we took a moment to just look at other in silence. Then I take her hand and kiss it.
"Until next time, my dear lady," I say in my best attempt in impersonating her accent.
She giggles before she pecks me on the cheek and says, "Until next time good sir." And with a smile, she enters her house, and I begin my way home.
The walk home is uneventful, to say the least. All I kept thinking about along the way was Octavia's concert and our talk. Just like the other night, I head straight for my room the moment I enter my house. I plummet to my bed, enjoying its comfiness before I eventually sit up and take out my laptop. I open a browser to go on the popular media website known as MyStable. I check notifications and looked at people's recent status updates.
But suddenly, an instant message from Caramel pops up.
Caramel: DUDE, WHERE THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN!? I'VE BEEN TEXTING YOU ALL NIGHT!
I'm surprised at his apparent outburst and check my phone. I realize that I had it off the whole time because of the concert.
Me: Sorry, dude, I had my phone off. What's up?
Caramel: You mean you haven't heard the news?
Me: No, I don't think I have.
It takes a couple of minutes before he responds, saying, "You have to see this." With a link attached to the message. I open the link hesitantly, unsure of what in the world Caramel would be so worked up about. The browser opens another tab, revealing a newscast article. The title of the article makes my eyes widen.
A GROUP OF GIRLS CALLED THE DAZZLINGS HAVE BEEN ARRESTED FOR VANDALIZING CANTERLOT HIGH SCHOOL
