Father nodded. "Sit."

Silver Spoon climbed onto the couch, staring at the tight-knit threads in the parlor carpet. She felt the solid, firm foundation underhoof, and tried to ponder the Mustangian import's age instead of pondering how much trouble she was in.

Father loomed over one end of the coffee table. Mother stood frowning at the other. Between them, in the center of the table, lay Silver's history test. Red ink bled through the back of the page; even face down, the damage could not be denied.

"Sterling Silver Spoon." Father kept his tone level and calm, as if appraising a painting for the museum. "Would you care to explain what we are looking at?"

"It's…um. My test." She cleared her throat and kept her head down. Perhaps if she made it clear that she understood the seriousness of the situation, it wouldn't be so bad. "My history test."

Silver dared a quick glance. Her parents didn't seem angry; they rarely did. Silver Spoon wished they would. Anger burned out faster than disappointment.

Mother stepped closer and flipped the paper. "And what is the grade?"

"It's…"

"Look at it, dear. Turn it over and tell us what you see."

Silver bit her lip and dragged her eyes away from the carpet. Dozens of red X's swarmed rewritten and crossed out answers. Along the margins crept tiny notes of "NEEDS WORK" and "PLS REVIEW" in Cheerilee's big, curly mouthwriting. Waiting at the top, a single scarlet letter.

"It's a C, ma'am," she whispered. "A C-Minus." Staring up at Mother's neutral gaze and Father's concerned frown, a lump grew in Silver's throat. "I'm sorry."

Father adjusted his monocle. "Don't apologize to us, Silver Spoon. It's not our education."

"Nor is it our future," added Mother. "It's yours, and it will be here sooner than you think." She took a seat at the far end of the sofa. "What happened here?"

"Um." Silver took a breath and a quick moment to collect herself. "I just missed a lot of work when I had pneumonia. And when I got back, I tried my very best to study and catch up in time, but—"

Father narrowed his eyes. "Really." He tapped the C-minus. "You're telling me this is your best, Silver Spoon? That is the story you want to go with?"

Silver Spoon looked away. Alright, maybe she hadn't tried her very best but she had tried…a little. Trying a little was better than not trying at all, right? "I did study on Thursday night and Friday morning. You saw, remember? I was in the kitchen with my books."

"Yes, I remember. But what happened to the rest of Thursday?" Mother's question didn't sound like a question at all. "As I understand it, Miss Cheerilee gave you the entire day off to study."

Father nodded. "For that matter, what happened to Wednesday afternoon? Or Tuesday? Or Monday? Silver Spoon, you had over a week to catch up and I know for a fact you spent hardly any of it at home with a book."

"So I'll ask you again, young lady." Mother's bright orange tail lashed across the black upholstery. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. "What happened here?"

"I was…" Silver rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. "I was hanging out with Diamond Tiara."

Father made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat and exchanged a frown with Mother.

"Mm." Mother folded her hooves and nodded, as if to confirm something. "The nouveau Rich child."

Silver Spoon blinked. What could be the matter? Sure, Diamond had her weird moods and bad turns, but overall made a perfectly reasonable choice in friends. Yet, Silver heard something familiar in Mother's tone.

Her voice grew soft. "Do you not like Diamond Tiara?"

Mother's lips pressed together and she didn't answer. She didn't have to. Twitching her ears, she turned away to hide it, but Silver saw the look in her eye anyway—the same stainless disdain usually saved for panhandlers, mezzo-sopranos, and fake jewelry.

As if on cue, Father swooped in for the save. "Brightness, this has nothing to do with liking Diamond Tiara or not." He tilted Silver Spoon's chin up to meet his eye. "Yet, you must understand this test isn't an isolated incident. We've spoken to Miss Cheerilee and she says your grades have been slipping."

Silver drew back against the couch. "But it's not—"

"Not by a lot, yes, we know." Mother scooted closer and wrapped a foreleg around Silver's shoulder. "But it isn't just that. Cheerilee says you never speak up in class anymore. You don't volunteer to demonstrate math problems or involve yourself in class projects; you hardly even raise your hoof."

"We'd understand if you were struggling with the material or really had just fallen behind from the illness. But this?" Father sighed, inclining his head towards the history test. He set his derby hat on the table and took a seat on the couch next to Silver Spoon. "This isn't like you at all."

Parents pressed against her on both sides. Silver's hoof traced dark lines in the velvet sofa. She wished they'd just punish her and get it over with.

Mother nuzzled the top of Silver's head. "Silver Spoon, you love history. Why, back home, I think you spent more time in museums than your father."

That's not even fair. Ponyville doesn't even have museums and barely has a history to care about. Silver pursed her lips and considered telling Father so.

As one, both parents stared down at her from miles up. Silver swallowed the argument back down. "So, am I grounded, or…?"

"Would grounding correct this grade point average?" Father didn't wait for an answer. "No, it would not."

Mother smiled. "Happily, Miss Cheerilee has offered a chance to make it up through extracurriculars. Quite graciously, I must add. Mr. Martingale never would've allowed it."

"Extracurriculars? You mean like clubs?" The weight in Silver's chest lightened. "That's not so bad."

She'd loved her old V.P. position in the Junior Debutantes, after all. Maybe Ponyville has a chess club. I always wanted to join Chess Club. She let herself smile a little. "Yeah, I could do that."

"Do it you shall." Father gave her one last nod and moved aside to let her off the couch. "You're excused."

And not a moment too soon. Silver made for the door as quickly as good taste allowed.

"Oh, and Brightness?"

One hoof on the door handle, Silver Spoon looked back. "Yes, Father?"

Father fetched a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his monocle clean. Without looking up, he said, "See to it that it's a project without Diamond Tiara. This is not a request."

"Yes, sir." Knew that was too easy.

Silver leaned over the teacher's desk to study the two sign-up sheets: pee-wee hoofball and The Foal Free Press. "Hmm."

At least Cheerilee made the choice easy. Silver Spoon threw a ball as well as Fluttershy threw a New Year's Eve party, so newspaper staff it was.

She glanced at the date. The newspaper staff held its first meeting this Wednesday. By now, all the good writing jobs had likely been taken. Great. I get to take home the stink of ink and paper every week.

Maybe a position of food writer or proofreader could still be open. Something far away from the actual printing. Her hoof traced the available positions from the bottom up.

PRINTING: SHADY DAZE

Thank goodness for that.

SPORTS: RUMBLE

COMICS: BERRY PINCH

FOOD & DINING: TRUFFLE SHUFFLE

So much for the best position. And since when could Berry Pinch draw? The kid barely got stick figures right.

ROVING REPORTERS: APPLE BLOOM. SWEETIE BELLE. SCOOTALOO.

Gross. Still, reporting worked as a last resort and beggars couldn't be choosers. And it was still better than printing. Silver would have to make the best of it and try not to cross paths too much.

PHOTOGRAPHER: FEATHERWEIGHT

At least one of her coworkers wasn't terrible.

FACT CHECKER: _

An office job all about telling other ponies how wrong they were? Perfect! There'll be plenty of facts to check, too. Scootaloo probably thinks Neighrobi's a continent. Silver Spoon glanced at the final position as she took out her pen.

EDITOR: DIAMOND DAZZLE TIARA

Silver pulled the sheet close and checked again. No mistaking it. Big capital letters and Z's like lightning bolts: Diamond's signature for sure.

"Sorry, Silver Spoon. Maybe next year." Miss Cheerilee offered a conciliatory smile. Mother must have told her about the condition. She leaned to look over the sign-up sheets. "I think you might have missed one, Silver." Cheerilee brushed aside the hoofball sheet to reveal the last option: Ponyville Schoolhouse Student Council. "We could really use more ponies on it, too."

Silver adjusted her glasses and gave it a look. "Huh." Eight slots open out of ten, not including Student Pony President… She squinted. Twist? Really? The girl was a nice enough foal and all, but seriously? President? What, did only five ponies vote?

She had to balk at Ponyville Schoolhouse's questionable taste in vice presidents, too. "Truffle Shuffle?" What is this, Dork Club Incorporated? "I thought he did the paper."

Cheerilee nodded. "He signed on for the paper months ago, but when he saw how much the student council needed more ponies, he offered to help. It was very nice of him."

"It sure was, Miss Cheerilee." Suck up. Is there anything that fatty won't do to get on the teacher's good side?

The bell rang and foals trailed into the classroom in a dull roar of schoolyard chatter. Silver spotted Diamond Tiara towards the back, running three-legged and holding a huge stack of Stall Street Journal back-issues. She didn't notice when Silver waved.

"Ooh, Thilver Thpoon!" Twist stopped to peek over Cheerilee's desk. Her chipped hooves reached for the sign-up sheets, but couldn't quite reach. "Are you going to join thtudent counthil? We can really, really use more foalth on thtaff, and…" She glanced at the name at the top of the press positions. "Oh…you're probably joining the paper, huh?"

If only. Silver chewed her pen cap thoughtfully. "Miss Cheerilee? Um, I'm happy for the opportunity and all, but how exactly does this help my grade? I mean, it's not history, just regular old school stuff."

"History doesn't just happen in books and on battlefields, Silver Spoon." She took her seat and began sorting out last week's homework assignments. "I know it doesn't always feel like it, but history's happening every day, even right here in Ponyville. Think of it this way: you're shaping it instead of reading it."

"I guess that makes sense." Silver Spoon signed her name in two smooth strokes and looked back up at her teacher. "How do I write about that, though?"

"Maybe you can, um, talk about how it'th like how ponieth did government thtuff in olden timeth?" Twist had some nerve, barging in on somepony's private conversation to give opinions nopony asked for. Though Silver had to admit, the idea wasn't half bad. "We're really glad to have ya, Thilver!"

Silver cringed closer to the desk, watching Cotton Cloudy float by. "Um, Twist? Could you not advertise this? I don't like to advertise my, er…charitable work."

Cotton, too busy fussing at Featherweight, didn't seem to notice. She took her pencil box back from him, landed near the front window, and began to lay her pencils out on a desk. Silver's desk.

Diamond Tiara gave Cotton a weird look, frowned, and went back to her paper with a shrug.

"Hey, that's my seat!" Silver lightly tugged her teacher's hoof. "Miss Cheerilee, Cotton's in—"

"I know," said Cheerilee. "I'm switching you." She flipped through the homework pile and handed down Silver's A-plus vocabulary exercise. "I warned you two twice about passing notes in class."

Silver frowned at the weather pamphlets and molted feathers coating the inside of Cotton's desk. Her own orderly desk now sat between Dinky and the new Trottingham kid. "But that's not fair!"

Cheerilee lifted an eyebrow. "Well, causing distractions for your classmates isn't very fair to them either, is it?"

"I…no, ma'am." Silver folded her homework into her notebook, gathered her saddlebag and took her new seat.

How in Equestria had Cheerilee found out about the notes? I'm always so careful. I couldn't have slipped. Somepony must have said something, and it didn't take a genius to know who.

Silver turned in her seat and gave Truffle Shuffle the coldest stare she could manage. The chubby colt dared to look at her half a moment before he averted his eyes. Obviously guilty.

Twist tapped his shoulder on her way to her desk. "Truffle, gueth what?" She whispered in his ear, not-so-discreetly pointing in Silver's direction.

"Really?" Truffle fetched an apple from his bag and took a tiny bite, still trying not to look directly at Silver Spoon. He chewed slowly, tail curled tight against his flank. His eyes trailed from Silver to Diamond Tiara. "A-are you sure?"

Twist bobbed her head enthusiastically.

Truffle Shuffle put his head in his hoof. "Great."

"Hmph." Silver flipped her mane and turned back around. "Isn't it just?"

"Di, you wanna do afternoon tea at Tealove's tomorrow?"

"Mm-mm, too busy. Tomorrow's Wednesday. First press meeting, remember?"

"Oh. Right."

"You could still come to my house and help me get ready today, though. I'm really gonna need it. This rag's like, a total disaster, so we should start early."

"Actually, uh…I can't."

"Sure you can, everything's already set up in my room, and I just need an extra pair of hooves to—"

"No, I really can't. I've got extra credit stuff to do after school today. We meet on Tuesdays."

"Huh. Well, that's fine, I guess. I mean, we can do something Friday, right?"

"You bet. Friday, for sure."

The wooden gavel clacked three times. "Attention, everypony! This meeting of The Ponyville Schoolhouse Student Council will now come to order." Truffle Shuffle's voice took on a slight echo in the empty classroom.

Silver Spoon raised an eyebrow. She looked around at the semi-circle of empty seats surrounding Cheerilee's desk, currently occupied by Truffle and his dumb gavel. "Everypony" seemed a strong word when there weren't even enough foals for a bridge game. She couldn't see much point in the seating arrangement, either. Couldn't they just arrange three desks in a circle instead of repositioning the whole room?

"We will now call attendance." Truffle cleared his throat and pulled out a little notepad. "Student Pony President Peppermint Twist?"

A desk away from Silver, President Twist (seriously, how was that a thing?) sat up and waved her hoof. "Here!"

"Vice President Truffle Shuffle?" He raised his own hoof. "Present." Truffle's chubby frown made his cheeks puff like a grumpy chipmunk. "Silver Spoon?"

Silver rolled her eyes. "Duh, I'm obviously here. Look, is all of this really necessary? We've only got three ponies, it's totally obvious who's—"

Truffle clacked his gavel. "Order in the council!"

"Hey, you just can't—"

CLACK!

"Okay, but—"

CLACK! CLACK!

Twist leaned over her desk to gently tap Silver's shoulder. "We're not thuppothed to talk unleth we have the talkin' thtick." She pointed at the white birch twig lying by Truffle's notepad.

"Oh." Silver Spoon sank in her seat and kicked the side of her desk. How was I supposed to know that? Not like anypony bothered explaining any of the rules.

Still, she could respect a request for order and decorum. While Truffle read the dull minutes of last week's boring meeting (something about new glass or whatever) Silver kept her comments to herself and reread her science notes.

"…have a new member. Silver Spoon?"

The birch clattered on Silver's desk and started to roll away. She jumped to catch it in her teeth before it hit the floor. Looking back up, she discovered everypony's eyes on her.

"Uh..."

Twist wiggled her ears, smiling expectantly.

What exactly did she expect? A plan? A speech? Silver hadn't prepared a speech. She should have prepared a speech. What was the Council protocol for this? Surely there had to be protocol, why else all that business with the gavel, but what if she did something dumb again?

"I…" How am I supposed to follow rules I don't know? This is stupid. This is all so stupid! Why can't I just write a book report instead?

Truffle took his seat on the opposite side of Twist. He made a little "go on" motion and wouldn't stop staring at her. He had a fat, ugly frown on his stupid, fat, ugly face and the grubbiest mane Silver ever saw on a colt. When was the last time you washed your hair? What a toad. Did he have to keep staring? Hadn't his mother told him staring was rude?

Silver held the twig close to her chest and flattened her ears. I bet he's just waiting for me to mess up so he can go tattle to Miss Cheerilee and get me kicked out. Truffle knew Silver's grade relied on this extra credit. He had to know. Just wants to make me feel bad because he's a fat ugly jerk.

In the wide, empty classroom, Silver squirmed under the spotlight. And it's working. She cleared her throat. I wish Diamond Tiara was here.

"Hello. I'm Silver Spoon," she whispered. "It's…a pleasure?" Her ears drooped. Maybe it'd be better to just apologize and quit. "I'm here for three weeks to learn about student government for, um...extra credit."

Silver sighed and handed the birch twig back to Twist before she could embarrass herself anymore.

Truffle Shuffle glanced at Twist. He knitted his eyebrows and didn't say anything. He seemed a little confused.

"Hey, it'th okay. Plenty of ponieth need extra credit." Twist smiled and put the birch to the side. "We don't really need it except for debateth and at the beginning."

"Okay." Silver rubbed her temples. Pity from the ladder's bottom rungs. Sweet Celestia.

"You'll like Council, really! We do a lotta fun thtuff."

"I guess." She let the knots in her stomach loosen and readjusted her glasses. "I've never really looked into politics. Until this Monday, I didn't even know we had a president."

Truffle rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, not a lot of ponies do. I think me, Twist, Namby Pamby, and Snails were the only ones that voted last year. And Snails voted for The Great and Powerful Trixie."

"Who ran against her?" For the life of her, Silver couldn't recall an election race at all. Maybe it happened before she got to Ponyville?

"Nopony did."

"Ah." That'd do it, too. "So…what do we do around here, anyway?"

Twist dragged out a huge roll of paper. "I'm glad you athked!"

The roll unfurled over Twist's desk and kept on rolling until it hit the edge of the wall to reveal a huge mouth-drawn thermometer. Bit prices ran along the side, leading up to the drawing of…something.

Silver peered over her desk, squinting. What was that? A baseball diamond? A kite?

Twist lifted her head with pride. "We're trying to get a new window!"

"You'd know that if you paid attention to the minutes," Truffle grumbled.

Silver Spoon elected to ignore that comment and sat up to see the boarded up window at the back of the room. The bottom planks showed signs of rot, and on rainy days, water leaked onto the floor. Miss Cheerilee had to move a bookcase in front of it because the back row complained about a draft.

"Oh, yeah. It got smashed when that…mismatched snake statue thing ran around Ponyville, right?" The town had smelled like sour milk for two weeks.

Truffle Shuffle gave Silver a weird look. "How do you not remember Discord?"

Silver shot the look right back. "Uh, because I wasn't here?"

"Yeah, she went on that Canterlot field trip with me, remember? We had to thtay in a hotel when the train track got covered in mashed potato." Twist lifted the top of thermometer to show the rest of the room. "Anyway, we've been getting money for weekth and weekth and look! We're thuper close!"

"You're about three hundred bits short." Not exactly what Silver would call "close", but whatever. "…Wait, why are we getting the school a window? Like, isn't that something the mayor or somepony should do?"

Twist shrugged her shoulders. "We tried athking the thkool board about it."

"But they didn't have enough in the budget, so Twist said we could try and raise the bits ourselves." Truffle Shuffle grinned at the president. "Like with the talent show."

Silver swung over the side of her desk. "Wait, that was you? That whole thing?"

"Yup." Twist thought about it and shrugged. "Well, not the whole thing. I mean, Cheerilee and Truffle helped put a lot of it together, but I came up with the idea."

"Why in Equestria didn't you say anything, Twist? I mean, you're Student Pony President for peat's sake!"

"You never athked."

If Silver Spoon lived to be a thousand, she'd never understand some fillies. "No," she said with a chuckle. "I guess I didn't."

"But now we need something else." Truffle Shuffle turned the birch twig over in his hooves, examining the slender tip. "More than half the class is busy with the newspaper or hoofball or special talent stuff. I don't think we can get foals involved in another big project. It'll have to be something we do ourselves."

"Then we'll all make sure we do our betht." President Twist smiled encouragingly at the tiny council. She nodded at Silver Spoon. "Right?"

Silver Spoon frowned at the great circle of empty chairs. "...Right." Three schoolponies raising three hundred bits. Thankfully, Miss Cheerilee graded on effort and not monetary success. "It's not impossible, I guess."

Truffle sat atop his desk, chewing the tip of the twig in thought. His ears pricked. "Wait! Silver Spoon, that's it!" He swung around, hoisting the stick high to smack it on Silver's desk like a gavel. "You're rich!"

Silver frowned, edging herself out of smacking range. "And?"

Twist clapped her hooves. "Ooh, I get it! Thilver can jutht pay for the retht of the window. Maybe even a better window!"

"With stained glass, just like in Canterlot," added Truffle Shuffle. He giggled a little as he bounced in his seat. "Maybe with a picture Miss Cheerilee in it, so everypony'll always know what a great teacher she is, even after she retires."

Before somepony started suggesting silk curtains or lattice lights, Silver Spoon snatched up the twig. "Uh, excuse you. Who said the Silvers are paying for anything? It's your window, Mr. Vice President."

"Yeah, but we all go here, Thilver," said Twist. "That maketh it your window, too."

Truffle nodded. "Besides, your family's got a thousand zillion bits as it is. They're not gonna miss three hundred."

"We already pay for the school, you clod!" Silver's polished horseshoes braced hard against the desk. "What do you think taxes are?"

"Oh, come on, Silver Spoon! For once, you can do something really positive for this school instead of just being—"

"Being what, wide load?" Silver loomed so far over the desk, she practically stood on it. "Being. What?"

"Uh, guyth?" Twist waved a hoof in the background. "Hey."

"Instead of..." Truffle flinched back, looking at his hooves. He glanced at the fund thermometer, brought his head up, and shot Silver's glare right back. "Instead of being a mean, selfish, tightwad jerk!"

"Right, I'm the jerk because I won't let you milk my account dry."

"No, you're a jerk because you're always a mean, selfish, snobby pony, Silver Spoon! Always! 'Scuse me for thinking that maybe for once—"

"Wow, thinking about something besides brownnosing and cupcakes." Silver's teeth clenched in a nasty little sneer. "Slow down before you hurt yourself."

"Order in the counthil!" Twist jumped on Cheerilee's desk and banged the gavel until the light fixtures rattled. "Guyth, look at yourthelveth!" She spread her hooves to the room. "Fighting? Name-calling? That'th not how politicianth act!"

Silver Spoon didn't know about politics, but she certainly knew that ladies did not stand on top of desks and scream like a firebrand. With a sigh, she settled back into her chair. "I'm sorry, Truffle Shuffle." She folded her hooves, tilting her nose in the air. Sorry you're an ignorant little toad.

Truffle Shuffle sank back in his desk and crossed his forelegs. He glared at Silver Spoon, looked back at Twist and sighed. "I'm…sorry, too."

The gavel went back to its resting place and President Twist eased the meeting back on track. "'Okay. Thilver are you really sure you can't donate anything?"

"They're not my bits to give." Silver Spoon recalled the sad, lonely echo of her penthouse apartment. Instead of waltzing at the Grand Galloping Gala this year, Mother and Father went to bed early. "So, yes. I'm pretty sure."

She shook off a twinge of sadness. Now was not the time. "Besides, if I just fork over the money, that's philanthropy, not politics. I don't think Cheerilee will count that for my grade."

Truffle blinked and considered this. "That's…actually a good point." He scratched his head, glancing down at his cutie mark. "But there's gotta be something we can do. Earlier this weekend, I thought maybe we could put our special talents together, but…" He got quiet when he glanced at Silver Spoon.

Silver lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'm not exactly sure what you could do with a cutie mark in... Um." He looked away.

"Tea parties. It's a tea spoon." What in Equestria did he think it was? What else would it stand for?

"Well, let'th think about that." Twist twirled a pencil in her hoof, looking over her clipboard. "Thilver knowth tea and fanthy thtuff. I can make candy, and Truffle, you can do all kindth of food." She bounded into the center of the circle, beaming. "I motion we have a bake thale!"

"I like it," Truffle said. "We wouldn't even be spending the school's money, 'cause it'll all be stuff we made ourselves. I second the motion."

"Adults do like buying stuff from cute foals." Silver shook her head. "But for three hundred bits? I don't know."

"It'th worth a try," said Twist. "Unleth you've got an idea?"

Silver didn't. "Okay. I third it."

The Ponyville Schoolhouse Bake Sale passed by universal vote.

Miss Cheerilee normally went home early on Monday afternoons, but for the student council's presentation, she made an exception. For once, Silver found herself glad Truffle Shuffle always stayed on the teacher's good side.

"We don't really know what we're gonna make yet," said Twist, "But I can make plenty of peppermint thticks and Thilver offered to make iced lavender tea and cucumber sandwiches for ponieth who don't want any thweet thtuff."

Silver frowned at the pencil and crayon drawings in her hooves. They still seemed too minimal for an official proposal. It needed some colorful borders, or charts. Diamond Tiara always said teachers love charts.

She'd hoped to consolidate and finalize some last minute changes with Diamond over Friday afternoon tea. The council needed ways to spice up the presentation (Truffle had suggested paprika).

But Diamond hadn't been home Friday afternoon. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. The maid mentioned something about a family dinner and a welcoming party—visiting relatives, it sounded like. That could certainly take up a weekend, but why hadn't Di said anything about it earlier? Had she not known?

"We were thinking of setting it up near—" Truffle Shuffle rubbed his eyes, yawning. Between writing his food article and delivering early issues of The Foal Free Press, he'd been going to bed late. "Near a place with lots of traffic, like Sugarcube Corner or the town square."

Silver Spoon switched drawings of food and drinks for an ink sketch depicting a mob of fine-dressed ponies running for the bake sale. Bit signs swarmed their top hats like flies.

"In conclusion, we think our bake thale can get a new window, bring the thchool lot'th of money, and make it a better place." Twist and Truffle Shuffle took a bow.

Outside, peals of laughter rolled across the playground. Silver peeked out the window to discover Sunny Daze and Peachy Pie sharing a copy of The Foal Free Press. Sunny buried her face in Peachy's mane, shoulders shaking with giggles. Peachy laughed so hard, no sound came out at all.

There, in the middle of page one, the notorious Bubblegum Fail photograph still took Ponyville Schoolhouse by sticky, bubblegum storm. Every foal Silver had seen today either had the paper, was looking for the paper, or talked about the paper.

The first issue came out Friday morning and sold out by the end of the afternoon. Truffle said the second printing sold out again at today's recess. The Foal Free Press wasn't just a success, it was a phenomenon.

Snails caught Silver's eye as he passed the window. He lowered his sunglasses and winked.

Ugh. Three days of celebrity status and already a show horse. Silver ignored him and looked back to Cheerilee.

"A bake sale sounds like a wonderful idea, kids." The teacher opened the door for them and walked them out into the playground. Truffle trailed behind, eyes half closed. "I'll ask the mayor about reserving a spot in the square right away."

Twist took the visual aids back from Silver Spoon and added them back to the clipboard. "Thankth, Mith Cheerilee!"

Silver stretched her neck over Twist's haunch to see the playground. The tips of Berry Pinch's ears poked over a newspaper. Cotton sat on a branch, reading over her shoulder. Pipsqueak played tag with Rumble and Shady Daze. The Dink jumped rope. Featherweight snapped photos of The Dink jumping rope. No Diamond. She hadn't been at recess, either.

"How soon do you think you'll be ready?" Cheerilee asked.

Twist thought on it. "I know my auntie Bon-Bon's not busy right now; the candy'll be ready by Friday."

"I can do it in a week, if somepony helps." Truffle nudged Silver's leg. "You know anything about pastries?"

"Mm. I know how to make parfait and petit fours. I'm better at arranging them than making them, though."

Silver stopped in her tracks. There! In the basement window, a pink flash of movement and a glint of metal. Diamond Tiara's smiling face peeped out, surveying her success. No sign of leaving soon. It looked like she'd be staying at the presses today, too.

"I thiiiink we can have it all ready the Friday after next," said Twist.

"I know we'll all be looking forward to it. Great job, Student Council!" Miss Cheerilee gave them a congratulatory nod.

Twist knocked hooves with Truffle in an awkward, lopsided imitation of a hi-hoof. "Yeah! I'm gonna go talk to Auntie about the candy right away, tho we can thtart making the menu at the next meeting."

Diamond's eyes met Silver's. She stood up in her big swivel chair, waving and holding up an issue of the paper.

Silver held up her own issue and nodded in silent congratulations.

"Sounds great, Twist. See ya!" Truffle Shuffle tilted his head, stepping closer to Silver. "What're you looking at?" After a second, he must have figured it out, because he flinched and tried to hide behind Silver.

Diamond Tiara knocked on the window. She pointed to Truffle and then tapped the non-existent watch on her fetlock.

Truffle Shuffle sighed. "Well, that's the boss. Better get going before she gives the staff the journalistic integrity speech again."

"But it's Monday." Silver waved at the window until Diamond's huge chair swiveled back around. "I thought The Foal Free Press only met on Wednesdays."

"Not anymore." Truffle yawned again and rubbed his eyes. "Says something about…go-getters….crush time…I dunno, it was a long speech. I just know it's Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, now."

"Oh." There went afternoon tea for almost half the week. But Di worked harder than any non-senior filly Silver had ever known, and it obviously paid off. Proper ladies appreciated and applauded their friends' successes.

Never mind. Tea for one is still nice. I'll just have to get her on Thursday.

"Truffle makes a good point." Silver Spoon took the birch, twirling it in her hooves. "Why would ponies buy cookies from us when they can get it across the street at Sugar Cube Corner? I propose we branch out, give Ponyville something unique."

"Like with what?" asked Twist.

Truffle Shuffle paced within the circle of desks. "Well, if it's not something sold at Sugarcube Corner, then it can't just be something ponies can find at, say, Barnyard Bargains, either. It's got to be something special."

Silver nodded. "Something fancy."

"But still appealing."

A hush settled over the room. Truffle Shuffle and Silver Spoon looked at each other. "Gourmet!" they cried in unison.

"We can do petit fours and pizzelles and macarons! I can use my pearl inlay dessert stands and wear my new dress."

"Ooh, I always wanted to do real gourmet. I've got this one crème brûlée recipe I've wanted to try since last summer. And Pipsqueak's been telling me how much he misses his grandma's treacle tarts, we could try that too. Oh, soufflé!" Truffle put his head in his hoof, sighing with a dopey smile. "I always wanted to make soufflé. And crepes!"

"We should make some flan, too." Silver nodded. "Everypony loves flan."

Twist took the birch. "Um. I like the idea and all, but I dunno if my kitchen can do anything that fanthy. Or that much of it."

Oh, right. Twist had a kitchen for candy making, not baking. From what Silver remembered, the house looked on the small side, too. "We certainly can't do it at my house." Even if Brass Tacks let them use the kitchen, Mother wouldn't stand for a mess. Plus, they probably didn't have the equipment for it. "Truffle Shuffle, what about your house?"

The colt's face wilted. He looked so downhearted Silver almost felt sorry for asking. "My grandma's house is kinda…cramped. And I don't think she'd like it."

"Sugar cookies it is, then." Silver sighed.

Twist tried her best to lift the room's spirits. "Aw, c'mon guyth. Cookieth aren't that bad."

"No, but they don't get crowds." Silver rolled her new official student council secretary pin in her hooves. "It'll get us a couple of charity buys, at best."

Truffle took the birch. "I've got an idea. Why don't we ask the Cakes? They've got a catering business, right" As the idea took root, the twinkle came back to his eyes. "I'm sure they've made all kinds of gourmet food before, so they must have the right equipment."

Twist's gavel clacked on the desk. "Then we'll try it. If the Caketh are too busy, I bet Pinkie Pie would love to help."

"We can go on Thursday right after school," said Truffle. "I know they're all home that day."

Silver frowned. "Does it have to be Thursday? Can't we do it Saturday?"

"I've got thpeach therapy that day. And the day after, we're going to my couthin'th houth." Twist offered an apologetic shrug. "Thorry."

"I think Sugarcube Corner might be too busy that day to ask, anyway. And we oughta ask as soon as possible, so we can know for sure when we can work. Thursday's the only day we're all free." Truffle cocked his head. "Unless you've already got plans? Maybe we can work around it?"

"No." Silver glanced down at her little brass pin. Technically, she had nothing to cancel. She never actually got the chance to make arrangements for Thursday tea. "No, I'm free that day."

"Gourmet bake sale, you say?" Savoir Faire perused the slim menu.

Silver Spoon had spared no expense on presentation, going straight for the printer Father used for dinner invitations. Glossy black paper made the embossed white lettering stand out with class, but not too much flourish. At the top, the event's title twisted in a beautifully shiny golden font to match the council's logo.

"Soufflé, raspberry chocolate mousse, ricotta cheesecake, crème brûlée…" The Prench stallion smiled with a little chuckle. "My goodness! What ambition for, how you say, such little ponies!"

"Merci, Monsieur Savoir Faire. We all worked very hard." Silver Spoon twirled her braids, shyly looking up with a little smile. She motioned to the menus in her saddlebag. "Could you put a few of these in your restaurant, s'il vous plaît? It would help us quite a bit."

"Encourage ze gourmet culinary arts and help ze school? Oh, oui, madmoiselle. As a gentlecolt, it would be my pleasure."

He gathered the last twenty copies in Silver's bag and set them on the counter, on top of The Ponyville Express.

Wait. Silver took a closer look. The Express wasn't that thin, and didn't print headlines in bold, red fonts. In fact, it kind of looked like… She squinted at the story under the menu: THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE'S SECRETS REVEALED!

Silver blinked in surprise. Mr. Savoir Faire didn't have any foals. He didn't have an apprentice or young relatives hanging about either, and this was hardly the hot hangout for Ponyville Elementary. What in Equestria was he doing with a school newspaper?

Not just one, either. Front-page reports of a disastrous Cake Family outing poked out from under a coffee pot. The Princess Celestia article sat rolled up in the pocket of a pony busy bussing tables for the breakfast rush.

Savoir caught Silver looking and smiled. "If you include ze fancy cakes, perhaps you may attract a certain princess, non?"

"Perhaps." She curtsied to the room and turned to go. "On behalf of the Ponyville Student Council, thank you for the help."

The crisp morning air nipped at Silver's coat as she trotted past the boutiques and specialty shops en route to Diamond's house.

Rarity waved from her door, still in her fluffy robe and slippers. She had a cup of coffee in her hooves and a copy of The Foal Free Press on her doorstep. "Good morning, Silver Spoon."

Silver grinned and picked up speed. "Morning, Miss Rarity!" On weekends, Carousel Boutique didn't open until ten. Judging by Rarity's slippers and half-brushed mane, it had to be a quarter-past eight, at the very worst. "Early enough for Di to be awake, too early to leave the house. I'm right on time!"

She could still hardly believe it. Gabby Gums pushed The Foal Free Press' circulation to unheard of levels. School project success on this scale hadn't been seen since Fair Weather got the Wonderbolts to perform at a Wisteria Academy assembly.

"We are absolutely having celebration tea today." Silver patted the bulge in her saddlebag. She'd stayed up late last night making a new can of ginger-rosemary-ginseng, Diamond's signature blend. "Good thing I came prepared."

The brass gates of the Rich estate glimmered at the bottom of the hill. Silver wondered if Truffle Shuffle bugged Di on the newspaper staff the way he bugged her at student council. Was Berry Pinch a pain, or did she actually learn how to take orders? Did Shady Daze really insist on wearing that atrocious visor? So much to cover from the past two weeks! Juicy news made for a fun read, but it still couldn't hold a candle to good old-fashioned tea party gossip.

Silver Spoon rang the bell, bouncing on her back hooves. She struggled to restrain the unladylike grin growing on her face.

The door creaked open. For a moment, Silver wondered if she had the wrong house.

A mare Silver had never seen before loomed in the doorway. She had a coat the color of an overripe watermelon and the expression of somepony eating it. Violet mane swooped around her ears in rigid arcs and bandages crisscrossed her muzzle. The gold chain around her neck said "country club", but its size screamed "pawn shop".

Silver's smile faded under the harsh stare. Her eyes watered at the scent of hairspray and Prench monkshood perfume.

"Well?" The mare stepped forward with confidence; nothing like a visiting aunt or business partner. She belonged here. "What do you want?"

"Uh..." Silver glanced away. She'd been staring. "Good morning. Is Diamond Tiara in?"

The mare stepped forward. She seemed to take up the whole doorway, if not the whole house. "And you would be?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Sterling Silver Spoon, ma'am." In the shock of it all, Silver had entirely forgotten her manners. She curtseyed, head held high to show her prim little dinner party smile—always a hit with the adults. "I'm a friend of Diamond Tiara's."

"Silver Spoon…" The mare pricked her ears. "Of the Manehattan Silvers?"

"The very same!" A bubble of excitement rose in Silver's chest. For the first time, somepony in Ponyville finally knew her family! Without prompting?! Tacky necklaces notwithstanding, this pony obviously came from good stock. "I'm sorry if I was rude before, you surprised me. I'm happy to make your acquaintance, Miss…?"

"Mrs. Rich. Diamond's mother." She softened, offering a polite smile. It made her flinch under the bandages. "I'm afraid I've been away for a little while."

"Oh." Silver thought back to the portrait hanging in Diamond Tiara's room. Suddenly, the conspiracy surrounding the Family Appreciation Day invitation for Golden Glitter made a lot more sense. Had Di even mentioned another mother? Silver couldn't remember.

"Mrs. Rich, I came over to invite Diamond to morning tea. Is she available?"

"You just missed her." Mrs. Rich gestured towards the stairs. "She left about an hour ago."

Newspaper stuff on a Saturday? Silver frowned. "Do you know when she'll be back?"

Mrs. Rich shook her head, suppressing a yawn. She reached to take a glass of orange juice from a maid and said, "Her father took her up to the office with him, but I'll tell her you came by."

That meant she could come back any time between three and midnight. Silver's shoulders slumped. "Alright, thank you anyway."

As she turned to leave, Silver felt her bulging saddlebag and thought of the spare menu crushed between the tea canisters. Mrs. Rich probably knew plenty of ponies on the up-and-up who'd appreciate fine cuisine. Maybe the trip up here didn't have to be a total waste after all.

"Before I go, the Ponyville Schoolhouse Student Council is holding a gourmet bake sale next Friday." She offered the menu with the least creases. "It's being held in the square."

Mrs. Rich took a sip of orange juice and examined the menu's shiny lettering. She blinked slowly. "Student council, you say?"

"That's right, ma'am. We're raising funds to replace the window broken in the Discord disaster."

"I see." Mrs. Rich's eye trailed from the menu to the little council pin on Silver's bag strap. "Diamond never mentioned you had a student council." She flicked her tail and hummed. "You're a member, I assume?"

Silver twitched her ears and took a small step back. Something didn't quite feel right. "Yes, ma'am. I just made Secretary."

"Really! Well then, congratulations, Silver Spoon." She put the menu aside, never breaking eye contact. "I'm sure your parents must be very proud, considering the circumstances."

"Thank you, ma'am." Silver's tail swished close to her legs. She tilted her head and thought a moment before asking, "The circumstances...?"

Mrs. Rich shook her head sympathetically. "Such a shame to hear about Laurel's financial troubles. It's bound to happen to everypony from time to time, but half the family fortune gone in a year?" She put a hoof to her chest and sighed. "You poor things, I hope you're doing alright."

"We..." Half the fortune? A sinking feeling grew in Silver Spoon's chest. She'd known money was a little tight, but… "We are, ma'am. Thank you for, uh…your concern."

"Think nothing of it, sweetie." Kneeling down to eye level, Mrs. Rich's shadow fanned over Silver Spoon's shoulders. "Please don't feel too bad. It was all just poor timing, really. A bad situation, no doubt, but for it to happen just when Pitch is aging out of the stage?" She gave a gentle, sympathetic smile. "I just can't imagine. Concern is the least I can do."

Silver took another step back. She knew it was impolite to fidget with one's glasses, but she couldn't seem to help it. "That's very kind of you to say, ma'am."

"Why so downhearted? Chin up, Silver Spoon." Mrs. Rich stood back up to full height and took a sip of orange juice. "I'm sure it comforts the Silvers to know that at least their daughter is successful." The sympathetic little smile swelled into a grin. "It's not everypony who makes Class Secretary. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Mrs. Rich." That didn't really feel like the correct response, but what else could she say? She swallowed the hardening lump in her throat. "If you'll excuse me, I…I think I should head home now. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rich."

"The pleasure's all mine, hon!" The syrupy sweetness in her voice hardened. "Oh, and Silver Spoon?"

Silver glanced over her shoulder.

"Welcome to Ponyville." The door slammed shut.

Seven miniature crystal ponies reared in the light of a sunny Sunday afternoon. Rainbow dots splashed over the mantle and onto the carpet from the sparkling prisms. All seven without a single speck of dust or spot of damage since the day Mother won them.

"Eighty-two…eighty-four…eighty-six…eighty-nine..." Silver Spoon balanced on her hind legs to read the years engraved on the silver and ebony bases. "Ninety-two… ninety-three… ninety-six…hm."

Mother won her last award four years ago. Silver Spoon remembered that night a little bit. She'd worn a big silk bow on her tail and a muslin dress so long it trailed behind her. Brass Tacks and Kiss Curl had braided a rainbow of tiny jewels in her mane, so Silver and her mother could match.

The rest of the night seemed a blur—she'd probably fallen asleep, since award shows ran past bedtime—but Silver still remembered the unicorns sitting in the row in front of her. They'd held each other's' hooves, both in tears by the time Mother finished the winning duet. Until that moment, Silver hadn't known that adults could cry.

Across the hall, somepony had left the door to the drawing room open. If she stretched a bit, Silver could see inside from the parlor doorway.

Mother lounged upon the chesterfield, holding a long, white quill in her teeth. Squat, organized towers of music sheets and grading rubrics covered the coffee table in front of her; a little paper city under hoof and pen. Her mane, untied and unpinned, spiraled down her back and over her shoulders. Only now did Silver Spoon notice grey hairs threading through the orange.

Slowly, Mother's left ear swiveled toward the door. "Silver Spoon." She dipped the quill in red ink, marked a few papers, and set them aside before reaching into another pile. "It's rude to spy, my love."

Silver stepped across the hall, taking care around the century-old vases. She paused at the door and stared down the long, empty hallway. Generations of Silvers stared back from their picture frames. "I wasn't spying, Mother. I was just watching."

She crept into the drawing room, silent save for the occasional click of hoof on tile. Silver rested her head upon a footstool, watching Mother's quill scribble across the page. Apparently, Torch Song needed to work on her breathing exercises and had a bad habit of singing through her nose.

"Mother? Can I ask you a question?"

Mother looked up with a wry smile. "I don't know, can you?"

Silver smiled back. She should have known better. "May I ask a question?

"For you, Silver Spoon? Two questions."

"Do you like being a music coach?" Silver scooted closer, eyeing the stack of graded papers. Sheet music for My Fair Filly and Mare of la Manecha topped the pile of upcoming assignments. "Even though not many ponies around here sing opera?"

"I like it well enough, yes." Mother cleaned the quill tip and tucked it behind her ear. She took a seat on the floor, at eye level with Silver. "What's your real question?"

The hair tie slipped off Silver Spoon's braid as she twirled it in her hoof. "I don't think it's very polite." Looking up, she found no disapproving frowns. "Do you teach lessons because you want to, or…" Or because you have to? The sentence trailed off somewhere Silver Spoon wasn't sure she wanted to go. Is our money okay? Is our reputation okay? Are we okay?

The tick of the grandfather clock echoed in the drawing room. Dust motes floated through the still, afternoon air. Mother quietly waited. Silver Spoon fiddled with the raggedy tip of her braid.

"Mother, did you stop singing because you got too old?"

She waited for Mother to become offended, or cross, or hurt, but Mother did none of those things. Instead, her green eyes creased with a sad little smile. Picking up the hair tie, she smoothed out Silver's mane and began to rebraid.

"It's a young mare's stage, my love. I knew that part a long time ago. And after all, I've still got my legacy; most ponies never get that much." She finished the braid and kissed the tips of Silver Spoon's ears. "Don't you worry about me."

"Okay."

On the far wall of the drawing room, high above the fireplace, the Silver Family's crest hung grey, gold, and white. Older than the opera awards, older than the vases in the hall, even older than Granddad Silver Tongue's estate, the standard's colors prevailed.

"By the way," Mother said, "How is your extra credit coming along, Madam Secretary?"

"Miss Cheerilee says after I write my paper about it, I'll have my A-plus back. It's going well." Silver Spoon smiled the way fillies with bright futures were supposed to smile. Her eyes never left the crest."It's going really well."

"Hey, are you feeling okay?"

Silver Spoon listlessly blinked at the shadow creeping over the newspaper page. She considered telling Twist that her tangled mess of a manecut was blocking her light. But whatever, it wasn't worth the effort.

"Sure I am." She didn't bother lifting her head from the page. "Why?"

"I dunno." The wooden bench creaked under Twist's weight. Her pepperminty breath puffed against Silver's mane. "You jutht looked kinda thad to me."

"Well, I'm not. I'm just reading the school paper, see?"

Silver sat up and actually read the headlines she'd been blankly staring at for twelve minutes. If nothing else, the Press served as a nice change of subject. "Can you believe the Mayor's mane isn't naturally grey?"

Twist took a look for herself. "Oh, neat! It'th actually pink." She smiled at the bright patches leaking through the hair dye. "Kinda pretty, too."

"I—" Silver paused, caught a bit off guard. "Yeah, sure, I guess. But Twist, isn't it, like, just sooo scandalous?" She leaned forward, prompting Twist to take the next quip.

Twist tilted her head to the side and blinked. Maybe she didn't know what scandalous meant.

"Like, can you even imagine? All this time we thought Mayor Mare was all old and distinguished, but she's got colors like a spring filly!"

"She sure doeth."

"Well?" Silver strained under the conversation's death throes. Come on, work with me! "Isn't that just so weird? Isn't it funny?"

Twist shrugged. "Not really. I didn't know it wath pink, but plenty of ponieth have pink hair. Fluttershy and my mom have pink hair."

Silver Spoon rolled her eyes. Twist made a decent president, but she had a lot to learn about the art of interesting conversation. "Whatever, forget it."

"Okay." Twist seemed to sense that something had gone wrong somewhere. She offered a peppermint stick.

It would have been be rude to decline, so Silver accepted it.

A flurry of movement and dust kicked up at the edge of the playground. Foals swamped Truffle Shuffle and Berry Pinch in a writhing cluster of grabby hooves and rustling paper. Berry managed to drop her stack and tumble out before they got to her, leaving Truffle buried in the fray. The new Foal Free Press had just hit.

Chances said the papers would sell out before Silver even got there, but it was worth a shot. Silver rolled the peppermint stick under her tongue and slid off the bench. "So, what's this week's the plan for the bake sale?"

Twist followed her at the shoulder, a bounce in her step. "The Caketh need Sugarcube Corner open on Thursday, 'cause they hafta get ready for a baking contetht. Truffle told me about it Saturday afternoon, and we decided that inthtead of holding a meeting, you guyth should cook on Tuesday."

"Makes sense." The teeming crowd dispersed before Silver even got close to the newspapers. Not one issue left; just her luck.

"I wanted to talk to you about it, too, but you weren't around. Thorry about that." She waved to Truffle as he passed them on his way back to the office.

Truffle nodded at them and tossed a rolled up paper their way.

Silver caught it with a thankful nod back. "It's fine, I was busy this weekend."

Diamond's voice echoed up from the open basement door. She didn't sound happy. "….like your worst column yet! Gabby Gums di—"

Featherweight followed down after Truffle, closing the door behind him.

Silver casually strolled as fast as she could to the tiny window above Diamond Tiara's office. Movement rattled the big chair and every couple of minutes an angry little pink hoof slammed the desk.

"Oh! I'm almotht done with the candy," Twist said. "I've got extra time, tho maybe I'll make thome thprinkleth for…"

If Silver Spoon strained her ears, she could just make out faint voices under Twist's candy ramblings. She couldn't make out the words, but from the severe volume and tone, she knew they couldn't be nice. Somepony had goofed. Badly.

"Sounds good, Twist." Silver glanced back to show she was still listening. "So I'll just meet Truffle after school tomorrow and we'll check in on Thursday for final review?"

The basement door creaked open slowly, quietly. As if somepony had something to hide.

"Yep, jutht like a regular counthil meeting."

"Okay." Silver turned just in time to catch Sweetie Belle limp onto the playground, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom not far behind. Their tails sagged behind them, and they looked at each other as if they'd done something wrong. Of course, they did everything wrong anyway, so that hardly narrowed it down.

In the basement, the big chair swiveled to reveal a grouchy little bundle of Diamond Tiara balling up an issue of the paper. The latest issue, it looked like. She tossed it at a trash can, missed, and kicked her desk drawer in frustration.

Silver Spoon tilted an ear in thought. "Huh."

Twist tapped Silver's haunch. "You sure you feel okay?"

Silver Spoon's eye trailed from the sulking Diamond Tiara to the three blank flanks moping by the merry-go-round. She adjusted her glasses with a smile. "Never better."

Truffle took his crème brûlée from the oven with all the care of a father holding his new foal. He squinted at the custard to make sure it had set properly before sprinkling a bit of brown sugar on the top. "And now, you just need to sit and wait just a little bit."

Silver Spoon looked up from frosting petit fours and gave him a weird look. "Are you talking to your food?"

"Maybe." He peeked into the mini-oven to check on the soufflé for the fiftieth time. "So what if I do? Ponies talk to their food all the time."

Silver cut the petit fours until she had lots of tiny slices. "No, ponies talk to plants, Truffle. Plants are alive." She arranged them in a nice starburst shape and placed them in a travel box, alongside the Truffle's box of treacle tarts. Silver's flan wiggled beside the chocolate eclairs.

Truffle ignored her, whispering encouragement to the soufflé. Apparently it was almost "show time" and he didn't want it to be nervous. What a weirdo.

Still, Silver couldn't call the colt totally incompetent. She'd eaten a snack before arriving, but that hadn't stopped Truffle's recipes from whetting her appetite. The sweet, rich scent of caramel and vanilla wafting from Truffle's side of the kitchen made her nose twitch.

"I don't even know why you're so worked up about your crème brûlée," she said. "It smells amazing, so it probably tastes the same way."

Truffle Shuffle's head shot up. He stared at her, a weird little frown creasing through his flour-caked face.

"What? Do I have jam in my mane?" Silver Spoon reached back to feel before she remembered her braids were still tucked under the chef hat. It looked positively idiotic, but Truffle had insisted and the only other option was hairnets.

The colt shrugged and licked a spot of chocolate off his fetlock. "Nothing, it's just that you've never said anything nice to me before." He glanced at their stack of boxed gourmet dishes, flicking his little stub tail. "I didn't think you even knew how. Thanks."

"Well, maybe you'd get more compliments if you did more things worth complimenting." Silver thought on it a moment before adding, "And you're welcome. That's really a new recipe?"

"Pretty much. I made a test batch last weekend, but it got kinda burned and now our kitchen's full of smoke. I still don't know if it was my fault or the oven's. Probably both." Truffle's head popped over Silver's workstation, looking over her cucumber sandwiches and a bowl of lavender petals. He pointed at the glass pitcher at the far end of the counter. "Can I try some of your purple iced tea?"

"Lavender tea." Technically, lavender and vanilla. Silver poured him a sample cup and slid over the sugar bowl.

Truffle tried a little, nodding to himself. "I like it. But do you really think iced tea goes with the rest of the food?"

"I don't; it's too sweet for a lot of this stuff and the weather's too cold. It's just the best option, since iced tea will keep longer and is a safer bet for a crowd. Plus, I've already done lavender tea with petit fours and crepes, so I know it'll work." She shrugged. "Besides, we'll have some warm milk there too."

"Oh, okay. I was just wondering."

Silence settled over the kitchen. In the corner, an egg timer tick-tick-ticked away the seconds. The soufflé still had sixteen minutes to go. Everything else had already been taken care of or else had to be made fresh on sale day. Nothing left but to wait.

"So!" Silver Spoon finally broke the silence. "Cotton Cloudy tells me Cloudsdale's got The Foal Free Press now. It sounds like you've got a real hit on your hooves. Congratulations." She might as well congratulate somepony.

Truffle leaned on the counter. "Thanks…"

"You don't sound very thankful."

"I am." He sipped his tea without even the pretense of a smile. "Thanks to Gabby Gums, our little school paper's more popular than the regular newspaper. It's the biggest thing since powdered sugar. Shady Daze started coming in Tuesdays just to keep up with print orders."

Truffle cradled the teacup in his hooves, blankly staring up at the light fixtures. His ears drooped. "In fact, there's so much demand, Diamond Tiara's talking about asking Miss Cheerilee for a second printing press."

Silver sealed up the pitcher of tea, gesturing towards the crème brûlée. It looked cool enough to transport now. "And the problem is?"

"It's…aw, I dunno." Truffle rubbed the back of his neck. "I've been feeling kinda weird about it. It's a newspaper, shouldn't there be more, ya know, news in it? A gossip column's one thing, but now it's nearly half of the paper." He wrapped up the crème brûlée and gently, gently, lowered it into the waiting wagon with the rest of the food. The little chubby frown deepened. "And besides all that, the Gums articles feel...not very nice."

Silver rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Shuffle. All news does is tell the truth, and sometimes the truth isn't nice. Remember when The Canterlot Chronicle busted that locoweed smuggling ring last winter? I bet those smugglers didn't like having their pictures in the paper either."

"That's not the same thing, Silver. Those were criminals, these are just our neighbors. It's not a crime to dye your mane."

It ought to be. Silver Spoon recalled Featherweight's mane from Nightmare Night and made a face. "Maybe not, but ponies obviously want to know about it. It sells, Shuffle. If this kind of thing is so terrible and makes them feel so bad, then maybe they shouldn't buy it. Have you guys gotten any complaints?"

He took some time to think about it. Finally, he admitted, "No. Not that I know about, anyway. I'm just on delivery and orders now."

"Don't you also write food articles, too?"

"Used to."

Truffle Shuffle squinted at the soufflé through the oven door. He made a gesture for silence and took it out, admiring the beautiful golden crust. Until he secured the soufflé in a box, he didn't speak a word. Even afterwards, the little chef didn't dare go above a whisper. "Food and Sports got downsized to make room for more Gabby Gums. Comics is totally gone. Berry Pinch just types now."

Silver tied up the remaining boxes of baked goods in elegant ribbons, smiling at the effect. Choosing school colors to accent the food made for an inspiring touch. She'd have to make sure the plates and dinnerware matched, too.

Watching Truffle hitch himself to the cart, she mentally thumbed through the paper's positions and ranks. Sports…weather…opinion…hm. The tip of her tail flicked thoughtfully. "What about Apple Bloom? Did she get downsized, too?" She opened the front door for Truffle on his way out.

"Thanks. I've never seen her on the typewriters, so I don't think so. Pretty sure she writes…" He took a few steps before pausing in the doorway. "Actually, I'm not sure what she writes. I never asked. I know that Diamond Tiara has her do lots of field work, though. Why?"

Silver Spoon shrugged. "Just wondering. See you on Thursday."

"'Kay, see ya."

Truffle Shuffle went at a safe and steady pace, whispering to his souffle. In a few minutes, he rounded the corner and was gone.

"Finally I can take off this stupid hat." Silver let her braid fall over her shoulder, smoothing out the flat, mussy bangs. "All finished, with an hour to spare. Not bad."

In three more hours, the street lamps came on. Three hours until she had to be home. She sighed. Three hours with nothing to do.

"Smile!"

"Eep!" Silver flinched back from a blinding flash.

When the spots cleared from her vision, she found herself nose to nose with her own reflection in the glassy black eye of a camera lens. A familiar silhouette fluttered just above her head. "Featherweight? What are you doing here?"

Her eye trailed past the camera, following the strap around his slender neck up to Featherweight's rakish little smile. Not that I'm complaining.

"Hiya, Silver Spoon. Just working, like always." The pegasus angled his wings for a swift, gentle fall to the ground. He didn't so much land as he settled like a feather, nimble hooves barely scraping the welcome mat. "Right now, I'm here to get my daily bagel!"

Earning a cutie mark, in Silver's humble opinion, agreed with Featherweight a great deal. Those giant saucer ears had a smooth pivot instead of a nervous twitch, and he'd stopped twitching like he had parasprites in his pockets. Maybe not the strongest flier in school—Cotton Cloudy still claimed that title—but nopony matched Featherweight's gentle, smooth wingstrokes.

"It's really important to keep your carbs up," he explained with a little buck-tooth smile.

She wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but she smiled anyway. "Oh, definitely. But right now, I'm afraid the Cakes…"

Silver Spoon couldn't help but notice they were just a couple dozen inches from touching noses. She shook herself and got her head back on track. "The Cakes closed the kitchen so me and Truffle could use the kitchen this afternoon. Mr. Cake is still here though, if you want me to get him."

"Oh." Featherweight's grin dimmed a little. "No, that's okay. If it's not open, I can just come back later."

"Actually!" Silver lifted a hoof before he flew away. "Uh, I don't have any bagels, but I actually have some petit fours that didn't make it to the bake sale."

He tilted his head. "What's a 'petty for'?"

"Petit four. It's like a cupcake, but fancier. You can have them if you want."

"Wow, really?" Featherweight bounced on the welcome mat, flapping his little wings. "Thanks, Silver Spoon! That's really nice of you."

She nodded and stepped back to open the door for him. "It is, isn't it?"

The colt took one of the tall tables at the front and let the bulky camera slide off his shoulders. His saddlebag plopped down beside it. "Sheesh, what a week." Pinion feathers fanned out in a stiff arc as Featherweight popped his back. He rubbed the crick in his neck and let his wings flop at his sides. "And it's not even half over."

Half-listening, Silver considered the tray of reject petit fours with a frown. These things hadn't made the cut for a reason. All these lopsided tops, crumbly bottoms, burnt sides, and frosting disasters hardly made for a good presentation.

Too late to take back the offer now. She sighed and nudged the tray on the table. "Here you go. Sorry they look a little weird, but—"

In a blink, Featherweight shoveled the lopsided cake into his cheeks. Little crumbs tumbled down the sides of his chin as he licked yellow frosting off his hoof and reached for another. "What are you talking about?" Down went the red velvet, burnt top and all. "Deeff arr delifuff!"

Slowly, Silver climbed into the tall, pegasus-friendly chair. Her tail dangled several feet off the floor. "But it's so ugly."

"Well, they don't taste ugly!"

Featherweight unclasped his bag, letting loose a small mound of photographs. He idly shoved another cake into his mouth, chewing slowly as he spread out the photos, organizing and reorganizing.

His tail flicked in irritation. "Darn it…can't use any of these."

From the looks of it, he was right: blurred smears of color, weird close-ups of ears, noses, and wings, lens flares blotting out silhouettes… On the other hoof, the black-and-whites of crickets and rainclouds looked okay. A night shot of a shadow-dappled treehouse reminded Silver of those creepy novels Dinky loved.

"I don't know," said Silver Spoon. She tapped a photo of pink and orange clouds shadowed in the deep violets of settling dusk. "This one's kind of pretty."

It looked like last Saturday's sunset. The Saturday that Silver had emergency tea in the gazebo by herself. What an awful weekend. She curled up in her chair and sighed. Thinking of unpleasant things when entertaining company wasn't at all polite, but now that she'd started she couldn't seem to stop.

Featherweight admired the photograph with a smile. "Thanks, my sister told me the same thing." He nosed the sunset aside in favor of a medium-size glossy of Mr. Davenport speaking with an exterminator. The photo under it revealed Applejack sniffing a pear. "Too bad it's not real news."

News... Silver Spoon stared at yesterday's rushed issue Press of the press sticking out from the bottom of the photo pile. Slowly, her ears stood straight, eyes widening with horror.

Mrs. Rich knows. The only pony in town who knew the real reason the Silvers moved to Ponyville. In all likelihood, she knew more than Silver Spoon herself. So if she knows, then maybe… Her eyes drifted to a blurred photo of a grey filly moping alone on the playground. Maybe Diamond Tiara knows, too. And if she runs The Foal FreePress, then does that mean—

A frown crossed Featherweight's face. "What's the matter?" He pushed the cloud picture forward. "It's okay if it's not news, it's still a nice picture. You can have it if you want; I owe you for the cakes anyway."

"Thanks, but it's not that. It's—" Silver licked her lip. "I've just…" She mentally swatted the idea away. What a stupid thought. Di's my best friend, she wouldn't do that. "…been feeling kind of lonely, that's all. Diamond's been really busy lately." She wouldn't.

Featherweight rolled his dreamy eyes. "Tell me about it. She's been driving us like a diamond dog all week." He rubbed his sore shoulders and shook his head with a sigh. "I don't know what happened, but it's like she got an extra dose of mean lately. Nothing we do is good enough anymore. Maybe it's 'cause that last Gabby Gums article didn't do good, or maybe she's just got a bug in her mane. I dunno."

That's right; it's Gums who writes the articles, not Diamond. Not that it helped. If Silver's suspicions were correct, then Gabby Gums had far less reason to keep Silver's secret under wraps than Diamond did.

Still, in the end, it was the editor who decided what made the paper and what didn't. There'd still be nothing stopping the editor from writing an article of her own. And Diamond wouldn't. Surely.

"You know, she actually made everypony come back to work and put out another issue to make up for it? The same day, Silver!" Featherweight pulled out a packet from his saddlebag. "I just got these back and I don't even know if I should bother turning them in. She'll probably just toss 'em out for not being 'juicy' enough."

He wrinkled his nose. "I'm starting to hate that word."

A twinge bit at Silver's stomach. She couldn't deny the potential appeal of the Silvers' financial situation. The have-nots loved nothing more than seeing their betters dragged down to their level. The Celestia article proved that. Best friends or not, it was a good story. Maybe too good to pass up, if Di's that desperate for juicy gossip.

Featherweight spread out the new set of photos to study them. "The developer took forever with these. They're actually from a couple weeks ago; probably too old to use."

Silver looked them over. It seemed like just average school stuff. Peachy Pie and Sunny Daze holding hooves on the swings (news to literally nopony ever), the Trottingham kid in a dorky school uniform, a shot of baby Apple Bloom…wearing a diaper on her head?

"Wait a sec." Silver leaned forward.

Had Truffle Shuffle mentioned anything about Scootaloo or Sweetie Belle pulling typist duty? Silver didn't think so. And Diamond had yelled at them yesterday. The same day the weak article hit. (She'd likely yelled at everypony that day, but still.) Apple Bloom's paper position remained a mystery. On top of it all, all three blank flanks didn't share one ounce of class between them.

"What?" Featherweight hovered out of his chair. "What is it?"

"Hm? Oh, it's nothing," said Silver Spoon. "Just thinking out loud." It's one of them. It has to be. But which one?

Silver nudged the baby photo aside to discover a cringe-worthy photo of Scootaloo swamped ears-to-hoof in muck. Another revealed Sweetie Belle wearing an atrocious hat. Interesting.

Featherweight tipped the camera toward himself, staring into the lens. He glanced at the piles of photos, then back to himself. He frowned. "I don't think I really like being staff photographer."

He gestured toward the pink cloud picture in Silver's hooves. "I love taking pictures, but I like just doing it for me. I really wanted to follow in my sister's hoofprints and be editor."

"You have a sister?" Silver studied the mud in Scootaloo's feathers and didn't look up. Maybe Featherweight was right about the pictures being unusable. No way would Gabby Gums publish an article about herself.

"Yeah, Namby Pamby. She's at flight camp right now. I was hoping I could be editor like she used to be and surprise her when she came home. I know it'd make her proud."

"Mm-hm." So Featherweight didn't like Diamond's regime either. How many other ponies on staff agreed with him?

This afternoon's conversation with Truffle Shuffle rattled in the back of Silver Spoon's head. He's just a delivery guy and typist. The guy's barely even involved. So if he feels guilty about the gossip column… Her eyes drifted to the humiliated Sweetie Belle's red cheeks. I bet my best teapot Gabby Gums is feeling it too. She'll want out. As if Di would ever it happen….I bet it'd make her nervous, though.

Silver slowly blinked at the diaper on Apple Bloom's head. Gums wouldn't run these pics, but a paper editor in need of insurance sure would. Even if Gabby Gums—whoever she is—is willing to go down, there's no way she'd drag her loser friends down with her.

Her eyes flicked back to Featherweight. And then, in all that tension, somepony's going to do something stupid. She steepled her hooves. Paper-ruining levels of stupid.

"Featherweight, you said you want to be editor, right?"

"Yeah." The colt perched on the table, lifting an eyebrow at Silver's expression. "Guess I'll just have to try for it next year."

Silver Spoon slid the three photos forward. "How about this year?"

"What are you talking about, Silver Spoon?"

That weird little crinkle feeling squirmed under Silver's coat. She rolled her shoulders and ignored it. I'm just being safe. She thought back to the family crest hanging in the drawing room. Nothing wrong with safe.

"I was just thinking that maybe these pictures aren't as useless as you think." The sunlight glinted off her glasses. She smiled. "And maybe there's a way for both of us to get what we want."

"This stuff is awesome!" Rainbow Dash tipped back her head and let the bowl's contents slide into her waiting maw. She smacked her lips and licked the bottom of the bowl. "What'd you call this, again?"

"Crème brûlée!" Truffle Shuffle beamed in his little tuxedo. He'd been grinning all afternoon like he'd been accepted to the fanciest culinary school in Canterlot. "Glad you like it, Rainbow Dash!"

"You got any more?"

Truffle popped the lid off another steaming pot. "Do I?!"

The pleats of Silver Spoon's dress rustled as she walked up to them. "Ahem. We do have spoons, Miss Dash." She lifted her tray of dinnerware.

Rainbow took a spoon and two more bowls of crème brûlée and flew back to a bench under the oak tree. Miss Twilight Sparkle and Miss Fluttershy waited for her, sharing crepes over lavender tea. Silver didn't know where Pinkie Pie had gone, but between her and the Cake twins, the petit fours and peppermint candy vanished in under an hour.

Bulk Biceps floated past them, balancing two plates of food in his hooves, and three more on his back. His tiny wings carried him up and up and up into Friday's late afternoon sky. Waiting on a shop roof, Featherweight welcomed his brother with open hooves.

Silver lifted her eyebrows at the dozens of discarded plates scattered about Featherweight's hooves. "Where does all that food even go?"

The skinny colt waved down at her as Bulk gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. Not far away, a bell rang to mark the end of the bake sale. Silver waved back, put down her silverware, and went to meet up with Twist.

The Student Pony President huddled beside the money box, fiddling with an abacus. "Hi." She took a pencil out of her mouth and scribbled on her notepad.

"Hey. So, what did we make?"

"Let'th thee. If I carry the ten, multiply by two…" Twist marked the data, frowning. She shook her head with a sad little sigh. "Thorry, guyth. We didn't make it."

"What?!" Truffle Shuffle's head popped out from behind a stack of cookie trays. "How? That doesn't make any sense, Twist! I could have sworn we sold out."

"Yeah, I want to see your math," demanded Silver Spoon.

Twist hid her face behind the notepad. She made a weird noise kind of like a giggle and kind of like a snort. "But it'th true. We didn't make the goal." She flipped the notepad around and grinned. "We went over it."

Truffle lit up like a firecracker. "Oh my gosh, we beat it by like fifty bits!"

"Sixty-five, actually." Miss Cheerilee leaned over Twist, smiling and holding a half-eaten éclair. "You really went above and beyond on this one, student council. Great job!"

"Thankth!" Twist chirped.

"And Silver Spoon, excellent work on your report. I especially liked your comparisons of the low-staffed student council to Chancellor Puddinghead's cabinet."

"Thank you, Miss Cheerilee." Good thing she'd decided to reread her history books last week. "What's my grade?"

"Something tells me you'll be very happy with it." Cheerilee's little wink screamed A-plus.

Truffle undid his sparkly bow tie. It seemed he'd been waiting all day to get out of it. "So, how soon do you think we can get a new window?"

"Oh! Do you think we can get thtained glath?" asked President Twist.

"Is there enough in the budget for curtains?" Silver grinned at the idea. "Maybe with lace and velvet?"

Truffle Shuffle made a face at that, despite the fact that he had zero good taste in interior design anyway.

Cheerilee took a bite of éclair and glanced aside. "Well, actually…" She looked back at the path leading up to the schoolhouse. "As it turns out, we don't need a new window after all. Earlier this week, Mrs. Rich approached the board and offered to fund a new window herself."

Truffle wrinkled his nose. "You mean Diamond's mom?" He looked to Silver for an explanation, but Silver only shrugged. "Huh. That's…weirdly nice of her."

"But what about out bake thale?" Twist still looked a bit perplexed.

"You still earned lots of money for the school, kids, even if it's for a different part of it. You should all feel very proud of yourselves."

The student council exchanged looks.

"We do, Miss Cheerilee," Twist finally said. "What doeth the new window look like?"

Cheerilee coughed into her hoof.

Twist scratched the back of her head. "Well, we got a new window. That'th the important part."

"And it does have stained glass," Silver Spoon pointed out.

Truffle Shuffle groaned at the giant stained glass depiction of Diamond Tiara. "I am really not looking forward to that view." He flicked his stubbly little tail with a snort. "At least it's a back window."

The basement door creaked open a few feet away. Diamond Tiara took a look around before crawling out, dragging her saddlebag. Her ears drooped so low they practically touched the dirt.

Truffle didn't give her a second glance. "Walk ya home, Twist?"

Twist nodded. "You can thtay for dinner, if you want. My mom made hayburgerth."

"Sounds good." Truffle waited a few seconds before asking, "Silver, you coming to next week's meeting? I know your extra credit's done, but we could still really use the help."

"Um." Silver craned her neck over Truffle's head. It was almost nightfall, but Diamond was en route for the swings. Taking her sweet time, too. "We'll see."

He gave her a long look. Not surprised, not disappointed, not much of anything. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

"Nothing personal."

"Sure."

Silver Spoon offered a little wave goodbye. She watched them go a little while, then shoved down the twinge in her gut and ran to catch up with Diamond. Not that she'd gotten far. "Hey, Di! I didn't think I'd catch you out this early on a Friday."

It took a moment or two before Diamond seemed to register somepony speaking to her. She lifted her head and tried to smile before she lowered it again. "Hey, Silvie."

"I just saw the new window. Looks amazing, huh?" Silver smiled encouragingly and jostled Di's shoulder.

"I guess so." She didn't even look at it. In a soft voice, she said, "Miss Cheerilee demoted me this afternoon. I don't think I'm gonna stay with the paper."

"Oh."

It was all Silver Spoon could think to say. She looked at the little dots of stars sprinkling the indigo sky. The crickets chirped in the grass as she waited for somepony to say something.

"Silver Spoon?"

"Yes?"

"I know it's kind of late, but…would it be okay if we had tea at your house?" Diamond stared at the ink stains on her hooves. Her voice sounded quieter than the crickets. "I don't want to go home yet."

Silver slung a foreleg over Diamond's shoulder. "I've got some ginger-rosemary-ginseng with your name on it."

"Thanks, Silvie." Diamond Tiara's shadow of a smile slowly developed into a real one. "You're a really good friend."