Applejack swept the last of the confetti and crumbs into a dustpan and dumped them into a trash bin. "Whew! That was one heck of a party!" She scanned the barn to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, leaned the broom against the wall, and went to the farmhouse.
At the sound of the side door slamming shut, Granny Smith stirred from her nap in her rocking chair. "W-what? Who's there?" she slurred, alarmed and delirious. Her eyes focused on Applejack. "Oh, it's just you, Applejack."
Most people found it difficult to understand her granny, but Applejack never did. She smiled fondly at her. "Hey, Granny." Walking up to her, Applejack bent over and wiped a string of drool off her face and onto her own jeans. "I was just finishin' up cleanin' the barn from our party. Did ya have a good nap?"
"Well, I was havin' a good nap 'til ya slammed that confangled door and woke me up!" She was grumpy, but Applejack knew she wasn't angry with her.
"I understand—sorry 'bout that, Granny. I'll leave ya to your nap." She stroked her white hair and kissed her forehead, then went to the kitchen to make herself a hay and apple jam sandwich.
As Applejack took a bite of her sandwich, leaning against the counter, she looked down at one hand. Her skin was brown with dirt, tan from the sun, and rough and callused from working. She never paid much attention to herself—she had responsibilities to focus on: her duties to the farm, to her family, to her friends, and to honesty. That was how her mother raised her, always to be honest with others, and Applejack promised she would. White lies are just as harmful as black ones, her mother would often say.
Applejack came out of her trance. She tried not to think about her parents—no one ever talked about them. But it didn't matter. The past is in the past, Granny would always say. Their family knew what had happened, and bringing up the past always brought up pain. Applejack's eyes settled on the calendar. Today was her mother's birthday. She looked away, pushing her pain to the side, but couldn't help wondering if anyone else remembered.
Just then, Apple Bloom raced by, heading for the front door. Applejack caught her by the arm. "Hold up there, missy! Where're you goin'?"
"I'm late for our Crusaders meetin'!" she cried, squirming free from her grip.
"Hang on now! You're not goin' like that!"
"Why not?" Apple Bloom frowned and crossed her arms.
"You're wearin' mismatched socks and your hair's all in a knot!"
"Since when did you care about looks?"
"Don't be disrespectful now!" She proceeded to fix Apple Bloom's bangs. "I just want my baby sister to look decent in front of her peers."
Apple Bloom swatted at her sister's hands. "Why? 'Cause you never did?"
"Hold your tongue, Apple Bloom! I am your older sister!"
"But you're not my mom!"
Applejack grew angry, holding her sister still with one hand and fixing her hair with the other. "Well, your mom ain't around no more, so I have to do her job!"
"You stink at bein' a mom—and a sister! I bet if Mom were here, she'd let me wear whatever I want! I bet she wasn't a nag like you!"
"You can't talk about Mom! You didn't even know her! She died 'cause o' you!" she yelled, her face hot. Suddenly she realized what she just said.
Apple Bloom's eyes were watery. "I hate ya." She yanked open the door and ran, not even bothering to close it behind herself.
Applejack had a lump in her throat that kept growing. Her head began to hurt with all the self-hatred that filled it.
"Applejack?" Granny Smith called. "What was that all about?"
Applejack's heart pounded. She shut the door behind herself and ran the opposite way from Apple Bloom, through orchards and fields and uncultivated land until she found her secret place, a pond far from crops and livestock and family.
Sweaty and panting, Applejack sat on the shore, arms around her legs, and rested her head on her knees. She wished her mother was there to comfort her, to tell her everything was gonna be okay. She would've tenderly stroked her hair and sung her a lullaby.
But her mother was gone.
Applejack felt a tear run down her freckled cheek. "I'm a terrible sister," she muttered hopelessly. Mom would be disappointed in me. I'm nothing like her. I'm just like… just like Dad. She began to sob bitterly, then rage set her ablaze. She dug her fingers into the earth, grunting and panting, then stood and threw the clumps of dirt into the pond, yelling hoarsely. Turning to the side, she found a dead branch on the ground and took it, breaking it over one leg with a grunt and chucking it as hard as she could with another yell.
Applejack fell to her knees and grabbed fistfuls of her hair, growling furiously. Her head pounded in time with her heart.
A cool nose touched her hand, accompanied by a familiar sniff-sniff-sniff.
Without looking, Applejack shoved her dog. "Go away, Winona!"
Undeterred, she came back a second later, this time licking her face.
"I said 'GO AWAY!'" she screamed, grabbing Winona by the skin of her back and hurling her.
Winona yelped loudly and cowered, eyes rimmed with fear.
Applejack was stunned. She looked down at her hands, then back up at her dog.
See? said a voice in her head. You're just like him.
Ashamed and in shock, Applejack looked away, covering her face from Winona with one hand. But in the pond she caught a glimpse of her father, because his face was in her own reflection.