Mad Science: Chapter 6

Mad Science

By IceMan

 

Chapter 6

 

>Logic and chaos should never mix.

>You awaken with what feels like a rail spike driven into your skull and a loud booming in your ears.

>Eventually, you determine that the banging is someone knocking at the door.

“Come in,” you groan, flipping the covers off your bed.

>The Sun and Moon Princesses were happy to give you a room in the castle with your six acquaintances, and you appreciated the soft four-poster bed to sleep in after at least ten shots of hard apple cider.

>The door clicks open.

>“Anonymous, we need to talk,” Twilight Sparkle states as she enters.

“What about?” you grunt.

>”Why did you lie at the train station?”

“What? Did Applejack and Rainbow Dash break their promise to me?” you mutter.

>“What promise? I already knew they knew. And I could see your lie on your face. You didn’t believe a word of that apology and all of us knew it. I just didn’t want to make a scene.”

>You don’t want to deal with this right now; the rail spike is being hammered in farther.

“And? So I lied to your friends. They knew I was lying and didn’t care. They then blackmailed me to get me to make a fool of myself.”

>“Anonymous, that’s beside the point. You need to learn to be nicer to ponies. I just don’t understand why you can’t just stop all the lying and . . . everything. You’re smart! Smarter than me even!”

>You sigh and look at the closed shades covering the windows of your suite.

>She just doesn’t get it, does she?

“Miss Twilight, you don’t seem to understand what I am like. As I told you: people, or sentient ponies, are merely tools to me. I can interact with them, yes. I hide behind a polite façade for the purpose of manipulation. This I have told you.”

>You pause for a moment.

“I trust no one. It was not just that instance; I have always been an outcast. From the day I was promoted from the first grade to the fifth, I was always the strange little kid in the corner who could recite the periodic table from memory, do multiplication tables and, later, complex derivatives in five seconds. I never shared my intellect with anyone and was surrounded by morons, fools, and sycophants. I was made fun of for being the know-it-all nerd. Applejack and Rainbow Dash were just two in a long line of people who took advantage of me. I learned to rely only on myself, and chastised others to do the same. I would never be in debt to anyone for anything, lest they gain leverage over me. And friends? Friends are a waste of time. They sap your time, your money, and your knowledge like leeches and then they turn around and kick you to the curb.”

>Through your monologue, Twilight’s expression changed from one of anger, eyebrows angled and brow crumpled, to shock and abject horror, her mouth open like a gaping fish.

>At the end, she turns towards the door and begins to exit.

>“Oh, there’s one other thing,” she mentions. “Roman Candle wanted me to tell you that though your fireworks were excellent, a few of them were faulty. 302, to be precise. He wants repayment.”

>“That’s right,” you hear the sergeant say as he walks down the hallway and into view. “We need 604 bits to cover our losses, Anonymous, plus 50 more to pay for medical treatment for one of my corporals that your rockets hurt.”

“I can’t do that. I have no idea how much my transporter will cost. I need all the money I can get!”

>“If you are so concerned with your reputation around here, why aren’t you doing this? You’ll be known as a conman!” Twilight scolds.

“My reputation with people means nothing now,” you explain. “Why would anyone refuse to accept my money?”

>You stop and think about what you just said.

“I will pay you back as soon as I know how much my transporter will cost,” you tell the sergeant. “I apologize for any damages I might have caused, but I do have other priorities right now.”

>“Alright, so long as you do eventually pay us back,” Roman Candle grunts.

“I will. I would not like to be in debt to anyone.”

>He marches off.

>Twilight stares at you glumly.

>“I used to think you had a chance, Anonymous. I hoped you might learn to like it here. I thought – ”

“Be quiet. After all this time, after everything I have told you, you thought that I would want to stay in this world? Everything I have ever known is back on Earth, and I need to report that my teleporter works. I told you that on the first day I arrived here.”

>Twilight stomps away.

>You shut the door and find the shower to remove the stench of last night’s party from your body.

>You then walk to the train station to buy a ticket back to Ponyville.

>The schedule shows that the next train isn’t for at least another hour, so you decide to walk around the city.

>You eventually end up in the Royal Statue Garden.

>On your left is a giant green hedge dotted with a few openings into angular corridors of verdant plant life.

>A hedge maze, you assume.

>Much like the images of Versailles you have seen in textbooks, the opulence both impresses and sickens you.

>Money that could have been put into infrastructure and other useful parts of society has instead been expended on luxuries for the upper class.

>Pearlescent statues of various noble attributes are of little value when your kingdom is starving.

>Then again, you have not seen a single impoverished pony in Equestria.

>Perhaps they are all locked away in a dungeon?

>Passing the statues of Love and Victory, you find a large, twisting marble statue of a chimera in front of you, apparently screaming in pain or fear.

>You quickly recognize the figure from the books you have read.

>“Discord, Lord of Chaos,” the sign reads, followed by “Do not touch.”

>“There it is, dear,” a male states in a high-class tone. “The human.”

>“Ugh, just look at it. It’s a grubby tramp. Not fit for our society. How did it even get invited to the party last night?” a female replies snootily.

>For now, you ignore the insults and continuing staring at the statue of Discord.

>“It’s friends with that Twilight Sparkle and her crowd,” the first replies. “Why they would associate with such an uncouth scoundrel is beyond me.”

“It is not wise to slight someone who is twice your size,” you threaten coolly, simply glancing over your shoulder at your offenders from the statue.

>In your peek, you catch your insulters’ appearances.

>One is a male unicorn in a shortened sweater-vest and scarf, and the other is a female of the same subtype in a light dress.

>Behind them stands a crowd of about six other unicorns in similar garb.

>“One punch and you’ll face the best legal team in all of Equestria,” the male unicorn retorts with a smirk.

>“Now, now Jet Set, don’t be so rude,” a third unicorn remarks, this one white and wearing a black suit with a purple bowtie. “Goodness, you are even more of ruffian than this fellow is.”

>He turns to you.

>“My apologies for my friend’s rudeness. We both saw what you did at the Summer Sun Celebration last night. Good show, by the way. You had me in stitches by the end. Oh, where are my manners. I am Fancypants. And you would be?”

>His entourage’s disposition towards you changes in the blink of an eye as soon as Fancypants shows approval for your performance.

>While before they were frowning and scrutinizing you, now the crowd seems quite welcoming and friendly.

>Your two assailants seem to be studying you with interest rather than derision.

“Anonymous. Thanks. To be honest, I did it on a dare to get two mares off my back,” you explain.

“Ah, I know how that can be . . . . Tell me, what exactly are you?” Fancypants inquires.

>Your left eyebrow twitches a bit.

>You are becoming a little tired of repeating the same spiel to every new equine creature you meet, but you reluctantly tell your story once again.

>“Well, if it’s money you need, I’m sure a few of us would be willing to chip in to help you get home. In fact, I know a gentlecolt who is working with long-distance teleportation spells that I could get you in contact with,” Fancypants says rather casually.

“Thanks, but I have plenty of money right now, and I don’t really need any help. This is far beyond the realm of any magical power,” you respond.

>Glancing up at a nearby clock tower, you see that it is 10 minutes to the next train.

“I have to go.”

>“Well, if you need anything, just send me a letter!” Fancypants declares.

>You march off, and, as you do, you barely hear a mare comment, “I like him. He’s different than the rest of this crowd. More like those six Ponyville girls we met a while ago. Remember that, Fancy?”

>“Yes, I do, Fleur. He seems like an honest chap. Don’t know what made him think to sing such an outlandish tune.”

 

>You are Twilight Sparkle, staring out the window on the train back to Ponyville.

>“C’mon, Twi, cheer up,” Applejack says, patting on the shoulder.

“No. Ugh, it’s just . . . he’s such . . . urgh . . .”

>“Let it go, girl,” Applejack consoles.

“I just don’t get it! He clearly knows how to be friendly to people, but secretly hates them and just wants to use them. He’s . . . he’s . . . unemotional! That’s it. He just doesn’t care! And I can’t do anything, and he’s always just going to be down in my basement, gloating.”

>“You always could throw him out,” Rainbow Dash suggests.

“That’s what he wants me to do, though. It would satisfy him, knowing that I had done the logical course of action, and I wouldn’t ever be able to make any more progress with him.”

>But this isn’t someone who needs to make friends.

>It’s someone who doesn’t even want them in the first place and doesn’t see a point in having them.

“I could try, and try, and try to get him to see the value of having people who care about him, but he’d never get it.”

>“You seem to care about him, Twi,” Applejack states with a sly smile. “You seem to care about him a lot.”

“Applejack . . .” you warn.

>“I’m just sayin’, maybe you should tell Anonymous where you comin’ from in all this. Maybe he hasn’t had people who cared about him before.”

 

>You arrive back at Twilight’s tree in the pouring rain at around 8:00 PM.

>The candles lit in the windows indicate Twilight has arrived some time before you.

>You raise your fist to rap on the door, but it already opens to reveal the purple unicorn.

>“You should step inside. You’re going to catch a cold,” Twilight says.

“That’s not what I expected to hear,” you reply.

>You still comply with the suggestion.

>Twilight levitates a pot of tea onto the table in the center of the library, along with two stools.

>“Sit,” she orders as you begin to head down to the basement.

>She fills one of the small cups with steaming liquid.

“There isn’t any more to talk about,” you state. “I’m going downstairs. Decide what you want to do with me. I could hardly care less if you kick me out.”

>“That’s not what I’m going to do,” Twilight responds.

“Then let me go. I want to read.”

>“No. Sit,” Twilight reiterates, slightly more forcefully this time.

>You submit, plopping down on the stool with a thump.

>“Anonymous, I’d just like to say . . . I care about you.”

>You blink a few times and begin to laugh.

>Your few mirthful chuckles turn into a waterfall of guffaws.

>You wipe a few tears from your eyes.

“Miss Twilight, are you trying to seduce me?”

>“No! Anonymous, I get the feeling that the reason that you are just so . . . cold is that no one has ever –”

“Twilight. I am the way I am not for lack of being cared for,” you say, getting up from the table.

>Your grin slowly disappears, and you turn around to face the window

After a few moments thought, you state, “Very well, Twilight. I will tell you.”

>You have isolated four events that you feel shaped you the most.

>Four events that molded you into the Anonymous today, like clay in the hands of a skilled potter.

>Your father’s death.

>Your mother’s death.

>Being beaten up in sixth grade.

>And, finally, your counseling session during your sophomore year.

“Those are the moments in my life that have led to this point,” you finish. “That is why who I am, Twilight. I am alone because I do not need anyone. I have never needed anyone.”

>Twilight stares at the floor.

“Now I am going to read for a while, and go to sleep. Good night.”

>“I’m so sorry, Anonymous.”

>She begins to go upstairs.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

>You walk towards the stairs down to the basement.

>“You could at least drink the cup of tea.”

>You pick up the ceramic cup and examine it.

>It’s painted with delicate blue flowers.

>You take a short sip and set it down.

“It’s too hot. I’ll come back up when it’s cool.”

>The liquid nearly burnt your tongue.

>However, you head down to your domicile, you consider what Twilight said.

>You didn’t feel people didn’t care about you.

>At least, you didn’t think so.

>You just never needed them.

>And, perhaps because you never relied on other people, you never cared about them and –

>No, enough of such thoughts.

>It will be a few more days before you finally know the cost to build the transporter.

>In the meantime, you read Mysteries of Magic and become proficient in your knowledge of the Equestrian arcane arts.

>The farthest anyone has ever been teleported on this planet is about 300 miles, and it was by accident.

>No dimensional travel has been attempted, and any magical portals created to other planes of reality have definitely not been connected to Earth.

>There was one that led to an entire world covered in water, another that led to a dark cave with a river flowing through it, and one that led to a fiery pit with hundreds of screaming lizards crawling out the lava.

>The letter about your device arrives from the ditzy mailmare three days after your return, who once again bangs into the door before delivering the message.

>You rip it open like a child opening his presents on Christmas morning.

>It reads: “Dear Mr. Anonymous,”

>“The specifications and designs you have given me are quite interesting. They are like nothing I have ever seen before, and none of the ponies I have talked with can make heads or tailsl of them. That being said, I can produce the parts you need, but it will be costly. I will need to hire several skilled magicians to measure the parts as precisely as you need them. My steel plants are used to making mostly railroad rails and construction beams. I will be arriving in Ponyville the day this letter arrives so that we can discuss payment and such. As soon as you receive this message, come to Silver Hammer’s shop.”

>“Sincerely yours,”

>“Ingot”

>You race towards town, hoping you are not too late.

>Straightening your clothes, you knock on the door to Silver Hammer’s forge.

>No smoke rises from the chimney.

>A grey stallion in a fine suit answers the door.

>“So, you must be Anonymous the Human,” he declares in a North London accent. “I am Ingot. I am so glad to finally be acquainted. Tell me, what exactly was that design you sent me?”

“It is a dimensional transporter. I built one several weeks ago, and, on a trial run, I accidentally sent myself here. I need to build another to return home,” you explicate.

>“Hm. Well, I assume you received my letter, yes?” Ingot asks.

“Yes. I ran over here as soon as I got it. How much will it cost and how long will it take for you to make all the parts?”

>“The cost, I’m not so sure about; I’d need to review the plans and see which things need precision crafting and how precisely they need to be made,” Ingot explains. “However, as an estimate, I’d say about 9000 bits at least.”

>You grimace.

“I have only 5400 as of now. Would you pay at least to keep the design?”

>“I have no use for a dimensional transporter, and certainly one which I have never seen function. However, Silver here says that you are known as quite the trustworthy fellow around here. You always pay your debts. So, I’m willing to take up the order in hopes that you will have the money in time.”

“Okay. You will get your money. Thank you very much.”

>“Excellent!” Ingot exclaims, turning to his brother. “I should probably be able to drum up the parts in about . . . oh . . . a month, most likely. Now, Silver, you said there was an excellent pastry shop around here. Shall we go there?”

>You quietly exit to the street and begin to walk home.

>You need at least 3600 more bits just to even get your project off the ground.

>You don’t want to contact those rich Canterlot ponies, knowing that it will only come back to bite you.

>You’d rather not be involved in high society.

>Artificial pleasantries and always trying to please those of higher social standing is not something you ever plan to be a part of.

>Beyond the money, you need to find some way power your transporter.

>You have seen electrical devices plugged in all over Equestria, though electricity seems to be related both to magnetism and magic in this universe.

>There has to be a generator somewhere.

>However, there remains the matter at hand: you have been delayed from construction yet again, and this time it is not going to be as easy to produce the necessary funds.

>You decide to make a mental note to find some local entrepreneur who might be interested in futuristic inventions.

>They are practically the only thing of value you could make.

>Who knows how far something as simple as the radio could get you, considering how low on the technological ladder Equestria is?

>You head home, placing “Mysteries of Magic” back on the shelf where you found it.

>As you pick out another book, Twilight intercepts you.

>“The other girls and I are going out for a picnic again, and we’d love it if you –”

>You give Twilight a vitriolic glare.

“No. I need to examine your equipment downstairs. See what parts it has. See what I could make from them. I might break a few things. Do you mind?”

>“You’re not getting to examine anything unless you come out to Everfree Forest with us.”

>You frown.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

>You bring the book you picked out, “The Codex of Magical Arts,” under your arm.

>And so, you trudge out to Fluttershy’s cottage, where Rarity is already setting out a blanket with her telekinesis near the tree line, next to a small brook.

>“Hello, Twilight! Oh, and you managed to convince Anonymous to come too. Excellent!” Rarity says as you approach.

>Twilight places the daffodil and spinach salad she brought on the checkered picnic blanket.

>“The others should be arriving shortly,” Rarity explains. “Fluttershy was here for a bit, but then said she just wanted to grab something from her house. She’ll be right back. And Pinkie Pie said she might be a little late. Something about a big order.”

>Twilight nods knowingly.

>You sit down on a rock by the bubbling creek and begin reading.

>Soon enough, the whole gang arrives, minus Pinkie Pie.

 

>You are Twilight Sparkle.

>After exchanging greetings with your friends, Applejack raises the obvious question.

>“How did ya get Anonymous out here? Musta been harder than wranglin’ a herd of timber wolves!” she asks.

“I told him he couldn’t examine my machines downstairs unless he came,” you reply.

>The human shoots you a stare from above the pages of his book.

“Anonymous, c’mon,” you plead. “Put the book down and come join us.”

>“That wasn’t part of the deal,” he states. “All you said is that I had to come to this picnic with you. And here I am.”

>He then turns around.

>You groan.

“Unbearable.”

>“I heard that,” the human says.

>Rainbow Dash spreads her wings and bumps your shoulder.

>“This’ll get his attention,” she gloats, launching into the sky.

>Rainbow streaks overhead like a World War I biplane, then performs a downward Immelmann turn to get about 5 feet above the ground.

>Anonymous barely has time to blink before she strafes over his head, sending him plummeting off his rocky perch.

>His book – wait, your book, lands in the creek.

>After furiously dusting himself off, he shouts back to the cyan pegasus, who has landed on the blanket with a smug grin on her face, “That’s not funny!”

>He splashes into the water to pick up the soggy book, then stomps over to the blanket.

>“Well, you got me over here,” he states, dropping the sopping tome with a splat.

>You are not sure whether to frown or to smile at either Rainbow Dash or Anonymous for what has just transpired.

>“So, Anonymous,” Rarity finally says, breaking the icy silence. “How have you been?”

>“Fine,” he grunts, picking a peanut butter and jelly sandwich out from the picnic basket.

>“Of course, no meat in here,” he mutters.

>“Humans eat meat!” Fluttershy gasps. “B-but, but why? Only animals and monsters eat meat!”

“The Griffins eat meat,” you remind your fearful friend.

>“Yes, and everyone knows how war-like and barbaric they are,” Rarity replies.

>“What an interesting hypothesis,” Anonymous muses, chomping away on the PB&J. “Consumption of meat leads to violence. It could certainly be possible. Back to the topic at hand, however. Yes, humans eat meat. Pigs. Cows. Chickens. Some even eat . . . horses.”

>Anonymous bares his sharp incisors, licking them with his tongue.

>Fluttershy jumps back, whimpering like a dog during the Fourth of July.

“Stop it, Anonymous,” you order.

>“It’s true,” he states. “I won’t deny the truth.”

>He takes another large bite of his sandwich.

>“Also, as for you Miss Rainbow Dash, I’d like to remind you that it is not the speed that kills, but the sudden deceleration. So, when you crash into a mountain or otherwise get injured, remember that I will probably be there, laughing. I’d also imagine the g-forces you are putting yourself through a causing severe internal damage, though of course that comes from my knowledge of human anatomy, and not pegasus.”

>Rainbow Dash just stares at Anonymous, indignant.

>“Well, uh . . . . Don’t you tell me how to fly!” she responds.

>The picnic blanket is once again silent, minus the sound of the brook and seven organisms chewing on sandwiches and salads or ruffling through the picnic baskets for other comestibles.

>“Applejack!” Rarity says with an oversized smile. “How has work on the farm been?”

>“Pretty good,” the farmer replies. “Golden Delicious harvest has nearly started. It’s been back-breaking labor, but I think we’re almost done.”

>Anonymous chuckles as he picks out a cider bottle.

>“How quaint. Advanced knowledge of magical arts which could theoretically lead to great advances in technology, and still you are left wallowing in the mud, doing everything by hand.”

>Oh dear.

>“I could show you dozens of things that could make you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams while decreasing the amount of work you do, Miss Applejack.”

>“Thanks, but no thanks, Anonymous. Doin’ things as we’ve always done ‘em is always –”

>Anonymous laughs again.

>“That is exactly the type of thinking that prevents the advancement of society,” he says with a smile, taking a sip of his cider.

“Anonymous, enough. Ugh, I should have known this would be a terrible idea,” you fume.

>“Ah, on the contrary, Twilight, I’m actually having an excellent time. I think I’ll stay a little longer,” Anonymous replies.

>“Anonymous,” Rainbow Dash warns. “Don’t move!”

>He raises an eyebrow.

>“I really don’t intend to trust –”

>A large pink-frosted chocolate cake is promptly smashed on top of his head.

>“Surprise!” Pinkie Pie shouts, then falls on her back to join Rainbow Dash in a massive bout of guffawing.

>Whatever joy had previously been on Anonymous’s face has completely disappeared.

>Even you can’t help but giggle.

>Grabbing a pile of napkins, he wipes the mess of his face.

>“I guess I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he says, and storms off.

>You quickly lope after him.

“Wait, no, Anonymous, they didn’t mean to – I mean, it was just a prank –”

>“No! You want to show me your friends are going to . . . are going to . . . respect me? And actually try to be friendly? Well, that activity –”

>He points to Rainbow and Pinkie who are still laughing, happy tears now streaming down their faces.

>“He’s got frosting in his hair, and, oh Celestia, you should have seen his face, Pinkie,” Dash rasps, out of breath from laughing.

>“That activity is not the type of people who I wish to associate with. I’m heading home.”

>Anonymous returns to walking back towards town, while you head back to the blanket.

>You give a glare to Pinkie and Rainbow.

“That wasn’t funny guys.”

>“Oh, c’mon Twi, we saw you giggling too,” Rainbow says, flicking a tear from her eye with her hoof.

“Yeah, but, but – ”

>“And you saw how he was treating all of us,” Rainbow continues. “It was time we finally got back at him.”

>Pinkie Pie cannot stop laughing to get a word in.

>“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, Twi,” Applejack says, finishing a gulp of cider. “Anonymous’s just an unfriendly jerk. That’s what we’ve told ya for a while now. Why do ya keep puttin’ faith in him?”

>As you return to your daisy and daffodil sandwich, pondering the recent events, the sky begins to darken with fat grey clouds.

>Drips of water fall from the sky.

>You throw your sandwich on the blanket.

“No. You guys don’t understand. You didn’t even give Anonymous a chance.”

>“Uh, yeah we did, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash says. “We gave him plenty of chances.”

>You sigh.

“No, you really don’t understand . . . . Last night, Anonymous told me everything and . . .”

>You tell your five friends Anonymous’s four tales.

>As you do, the drizzle begins to turn into a light storm.

>You create a small shield of magical energy to protect your picnic from getting too wet.

>“Well, that explains a lot,” Applejack says.

>“So, Anonymous had a sad life,” Rainbow Dash says. “Big whoop. We tried to be his friends, Twilight, and he turned us down. He doesn’t get that when you have friends, you gotta give a little back too.”

>The four others nod.

“It’s not about that.”

>“Uh, yeah it is.”

“No. You forced Anonymous to go out with you.”

>“Because we were trying to be nice! And the right thing to do would have been to be nice back!”

“But, sometimes you need to give people a second chance. And dropping a cake on their head and laughing at them is not giving them a second chance.”

>You look Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie in the eye.

“Anonymous is going to give us his friendship only if we give him one last chance.”

>“One last chance,” Rainbow Dash states, stepping off the blanket and turning her back to you. “One more.”

 

>You are Anonymous, currently in Twilight’s basement working at one of the screws on one of her pieces of machinery with a flathead screwdriver.

>The rain has gone from soft dribbles of water on the roof to a torrent of droplets clattering against the branches of the tree and echoing through the basement.

>You faintly hear the main door to the library swing open with a creak, and then slam shut.

>“Anonymous?” Twilight calls out.

“Downstairs,” you reply.

>“Anonymous, what happened today?” Twilight asks, trotting down into the basement.

>You do not look up from removing the metal plate off of the electroencephalograph.

“I dropped the façade. I showed your little friends what I was truly like.”

>Twilight sighs.

>“I know you’re not happy, and you’re probably not going to like what I am going to say next.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

>“Anonymous, I know you see friends as pointless. But, the fact of the matter is . . . my friends want to be your friends. And, to do that, you’re going to have to give a bit to them.”

>You shoot Twilight a quizzical look, as if you were examining her for the first time in a long while.

>“Nothing physical. Not money, or something. But, when we want to do something nice for you, maybe . . . do something nice back?”

>You turn back to the machine.

“No.”

>Twilight sighs again.

>“I know what it’s like to be the smartest person in the room. For once, I guess I’m not in that position. But, I want you to know, Anonymous . . . I was once like you. I was obsessed with knowing, well, just about everything. I didn’t have any room for friends. I guess that’s where we differ. And people hated me for it too. Yeah, I wasn’t beaten to the ground, but I was shunned, like you.”

>Your ears perk up.

>“There was a time. Thoroughbred was his name. He was the talk of the whole school, and I had a crush on him. So, on the eve of the Hearts and Hooves Day Dance, I asked if he would like to go with me. And he just laughed. ‘Why would I go with an egghead like you?’ he sneered. He was a jerk anyways, but the words still hurt.”

>“Did that ever happen to you, Anonymous?”

>The rain patters against the library.

“No. I never bothered to ask anyone to a dance. I knew they’d reject me from the outset. The one time someone did, they ended up humiliating me in front of the whole school. It was a cruel joke.”

>Slowly, the rain begins to die down.

>You set your screwdriver on the ground

>“Would you like a cup of tea?” Twilight asks. “I won’t make it as hot this time.”

“Yeah. That would be nice.”