"So I guess Silver Spoon's not coming to your place again tonight, then?" Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo walked side-by-side through the center of town on their way to the Scratch-Philharmonica household. They had parted ways with Apple Bloom some minutes before at the fork in the road that lead out towards Sweet Apple Acres, and normally would have separated a few moments later at the Carousel Boutique. Today, however, Sweetie Belle was coming home with Scootaloo for a cello lesson.

Scootaloo sensed poorly camouflaged glee on the unicorn's elegant countenance in anticipation of a negative answer. "No, I don't think so. I mean, we spent all yesterday working together, and we got a lot of work done. I don't think we need to meet every single day."

"I guess not," Sweetie Belle mused, casting her a half-lidded smirk. "But this is Silver Spoon we're talking about. How much extra time are you going to have to dedicate just to making sure she's keeping up?"

Scootaloo smiled half-heartedly at the cutting remark, an awkward and unexpected sense of guilt blunting her amusement. "I dunno. Hopefully not much. Anyway, I'm going to be doing most of the work myself as it is, just because...well, our project's pretty high-level stuff."

"Really? Why, what's your project on?"

"Um..." Scootaloo contemplated the wisdom of sharing their plans with her friends. Normally she shared everything with the other Crusaders; their friendship was at a level so deep that there were few secrets among them, and the only things any of them knew that the other two didn't simply hadn't been discussed yet. This included her plans for the Dash, in fact.

It was a pet project, something she worked on in secret, in her spare time, and only had started writing about for school papers because Miss Cheerilee had suggested it years ago during a one-on-one meeting about Scootaloo's writing difficulties. The magenta schoolteacher had told her to find something that really interested her and not to worry about whether somepony else was reading the text. She had promised that only she would ever see the papers, and only for grading purposes. The papers had been simple and vague at first, just hints and broad strokes commenting on Scootaloo's concerns about being a pegasus who couldn't fly, her wildest fantasies about machines that could help her overcome that, and wishes to someday build her own. As she'd grown and learned and her capacity for actual planning deepened, the papers had become less fantastical and more theoretical to the point that she actually kept them in a folder at home with her sketchbook, as references. True to her word, Miss Cheerilee had kept the papers and their contents to herself, only discussing them in private--or in extremely vague terms, almost like code. Her comments on the papers themselves had been generally positive, and frequently exuberant as she appeared almost as enthralled with Scootaloo's plans as the pegasus herself was.

Even so, only four--well, five now--ponies knew the sketchbook even existed. Her parents knew, of course, because they had been the ones who had nurtured her initial interest in mechanical flight, and now Cheerilee and Silver Spoon rounded out the group. She was loath to add another pony to the fold, especially, she remarked to herself with a pang of guilt, the occasionally flighty and gossipy Sweetie Belle. The unicorn was not a malicious gossip, necessarily; she just found certain topics irresistible to share. She was appropriately mortified and apologetic if she accidentally hurt someone in passing, but it never really seemed to alter her approach to spreading scandalous social material.

After a protracted inner debate, the pegasus sighed and said, "I'd rather not say, actually."

"Huh?" Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow at her, nonplussed. "What do you mean 'you'd rather not say'? What could you possibly be working on that you'd have to keep a secret?"

Scootaloo pursed her lips. "If I could tell you that, it wouldn't have to be secret, would it?"

"Well come on, Scootaloo, if you can't tell your friends, who could you tell? Wait..." Her eyes narrowed as she made the connection. "Silver Spoon knows, doesn't she?"

"Well, she'd have to in order to work on it with me, wouldn't she?"

"Well if you can tell her, you can surely tell me," Sweetie Belle huffed, agitated. "At least you know I won't go telling Diamond Tiara about it."

Scootaloo scoffed inwardly at this, but didn't say anything. "Look, if it all works out, it'll be awesome and I'll tell you all about it, but I want to make sure it actually happens first. If it doesn't work out, I don't want anyone--especially Diamond Tiara--to know I even tried, because she'll make me look like an idiot for it."

"Scootaloo, you know she'll try to make you look like an idiot regardless. Come on...just tell me!" she whined piteously.

"No, Sweetie Belle!" Scootaloo snapped, her wings flaring in agitation. "Just...let it go, alright? Look, if we work on it for a while and everything looks good, I'll tell you all about it, but right now it's just in the planning stages, and I just...I don't want to jinx it, alright?"

The unicorn sighed theatrically, rolling her eyes and tossing her mane in frustration, momentarily a seamless imitation of her dramatic older sister. "Fine. But you better not tell Apple Bloom in the meantime."

Scootaloo gave a short bark of a laugh. "Since when do I tell either of you something without telling the other?"

Sweetie Belle looked sideways at her with a narrow frown. "Since last Winter."

Scootaloo's innards momentarily vanished as she remembered the incident Sweetie Belle was recalling. A blush crept onto her face as she looked away, clearing her throat nervously. "Okay, well...yeah, I guess that one time...but still, I haven't since, right? And not before that, either!"

"True...even so. Just, you know...include me, okay?"

"Yeah, I will." Scootaloo smiled wanly, the blush still hot on her cheeks. Sweetie Belle examined her face for a long moment before smiling back, eliciting a sigh of relief from the pegasus. "So," she coughed lightly, casting about for something to defuse the awkward tension between them, "do you and Tiara have any...plans?"

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes again. "No, of course not. Can you imagine? Trying to work with that...that...diva is going to be like Winter Wrap-Up: slow, difficult, and ultimately pointless."

Scootaloo giggled. "Well, if you think so you should probably tell Miss Cheerilee now, so she can help if you need it."

"I guess. I just don't want Tiara to think she's won, you know?"

"Is there really a way to 'win' at being a stuck-up, self-centered bitch?"

Sweetie Belle grinned at her. "I dunno. You seem to have a pretty good grasp on the technique."

Scootaloo 'accidentally' tripped into the unicorn and sent her sprawling into the grass on the side of the road with a squeal of surprise. She popped up immediately and began magically smoothing her mane and tail, plucking blades of grass out of her fur, scowling at the laughing pegasus. "Oh, very funny."

"Hey, don't let your mouth bet with bits your butt doesn't have."

"I don't know how I keep forgetting your flank is so dense. It's like being run over by a carriage."

"Yeah, well, there are a few benefits to being a freak."

Sweetie Belle gave her mane one last shake before primping it back into place. "Leave it to somepony like you to figure out what they are."

Scootaloo smirked as the pair turned off the main road and into her neighborhood, trotting up to the front door of her house. She pushed the door inward and shouted, "Hey mom, I'm home."

True to form, Octavia was in her study, and poked her head out into the hallway to smile at her daughter. "Good afternoon, dear. Hello, Sweetie Belle. I'll be ready in a moment."

"Hi, Miss Octavia. I'll just wait in the living room."

"Is Mama Vy home?" Scootaloo asked her mother as she started down the hallway towards her room to drop off her saddlebags.

"Yes, but don't disturb her, please. She got home very late last night, and is still sleeping, I think."

"I wasn't gonna," Scootaloo groused. "I was just asking."

"Scootaloo," Octavia said, her voice hardening slightly, "aren't you going to offer your guest some refreshment or entertain her or something?"

"No," the pegasus scoffed, walking past the open door to the study. "She knows where everything is, and besides, she's not my guest anyway."

Octavia sighed. "Even so, could you please at least entertain her for a few moments while I prepare?"

"Ugh!" Scootaloo rasped, stomping down to her bedroom door and tossing her saddlebag inside. "Fine!"

"Thank you," Octavia said airily, sliding back into her study as Scootaloo stomped back down the hallway towards the living room, drawing the earth pony's attention just long enough to add, "And please stop crashing about the house. I just told you your mother is trying to sleep."

Scootaloo sneered and pantomimed tip-hoofing the rest of the way down the hall. Octavia ignored her. She made her way back into the living room where Sweetie Belle was curled up on the couch, apparently unfazed by the disagreement and leafing through one of her school notebooks, furrowing her brow at the neat, even writing therein. "Hey Scootaloo, what's the radian value of a ninety degree angle again?"

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow at her as she made her way to the couch and climbed up on it, settling into the cushion and lazily stretching out beside her friend. "π over 2. Why, didn't you write it down when Spoon fixed it earlier?"

"Well, I was going to, but you wrote just 'π' at first, and I just...I wasn't sure which one of you was right."

Scootaloo snorted. "Well, obviously Spoon was, since Miss Cheerilee had her fix it, right?"

Sweetie Belle nodded unsurely. "I guess...it just seems odd, that's all."

"What does?"

"Well..." The unicorn glanced over at Scootaloo, her eyes searching the other mare's face curiously. "It just seems odd that you would get everything else on the circle right but miss one of the cardinal directions."

"Oh for--come on, it was just a mistake, alright?" Scootaloo snapped, tossing her mane. "Everypony screws up sometimes, don't they?"

"Not you," Sweetie Belle said bluntly, shaking her head. "Not in math, and definitely not in trig."

"Well I did," Scootaloo sneered, flaring her wings in irritation and draping herself over the side of the couch, dangling her forelegs over the edge and dragging her hooves on the floor. "You don't need to remind me about it."

"Sorry, Scoot. I was just curious, that's all. Seemed a little too...convenient."

Scootaloo blinked, stunned, before whipping around and saying, "And what the buck is that supposed to mean?"

Sweetie Belle was saved the need to defuse the situation by Octavia's sudden appearance at the archway to the hall, a not entirely convincing smile on her face. She gave her daughter an icy stare for a moment before saying, "Sorry for the wait, Sweetie Belle. You can come back now." The pearl-furred unicorn didn't waste a moment jumping up off the couch and half-jogging out of the room. Octavia's cold stare turned into a glare just long enough for Scootaloo to figure she was in for a fairly long scolding when Sweetie's lesson was over before the older mare followed her pupil back into the study.

Scootaloo sighed deeply, throwing herself back down on the couch on her back, letting her wings splay out over the coffee table and the back of the sofa as she threw her hooves up over her eyes. All she had wanted to do was give Silver Spoon an opportunity to shine, just for a second. She hadn't expected it to blow up like this, and she couldn't believe all the backlash she was dealing with for a momentary good deed. Life really was thoroughly unfair sometimes, she though bitterly as the first strains of a cello playing warmup scales began to echo down the hall.

Silver Spoon's confrontation with Scootaloo had not gone as expected. Instead of securing a confession and taking the opportunity to put the pegasus in her place, Silver Spoon had merely succeeded in looking like a fool and angering her project partner over what was clearly just a misunderstanding that she'd taken as a personal slight. Of course Scootaloo hadn't meant to screw up just so she could fix the mistake. "That's pretty narcissistic, Spoon." Silver Spoon winced at the words as they echoed through her memory. She was right, of course. Since when had Scootaloo shown the least interest in her wellbeing, anyway? Annoyed at herself, Silver Spoon trudged back across the yard to where Diamond Tiara was standing at the side of the road, awaiting her father's carriage. "Hey, Tiara."

"Good afternoon, Silver Spoon." Diamond Tiara's voice was prim and frosty, her disdainful expression reflecting her tone.

Silver Spoon sighed. "What did I do now?"

"I'm starting to wonder," the other filly started, "if this project you're working on is causing you to lose sight of who your real friends are."

Silver Spoon blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

Diamond Tiara looked at her from the corner of her eyes. "I think you know what I mean."

"Come on, Tiara, just tell me!" Silver Spoon was used to being strung along like this and usually just kept groveling and wheedling with her friend until the drama was played out.

Today, however, Diamond Tiara seemed in no mood for theatrics. "You know, for someone who's only been Scootaloo's 'friend' for a couple days, you were awfully quick to jump to her defense."

"I...what?"

"You know what I'm talking about!" the pink pony snapped, tossing her mane in agitation, the violet curls snapping against her face. "One would think that years of being hounded and abused by that nag and her hateful little friends would take longer than one night and some silly project to erase, but apparently you have the emotional fortitude of a puppy, willing to roll over for anypony who will throw you a bone or pat you on the head!"

Silver Spoon stepped back, the intensity of the insult nearly palpable. "Hey, that's not--!"

"What has she done for you, anyway?" Diamond Tiara continued, glaring at her with a slowly smoldering fire in her eyes. "One night of tutoring? One day of not openly insulting you in front of the whole class?"

"Well, I--"

"I've been tutoring you for years, Silver Spoon, years! I've never insulted you in front of everyone like she has made an entire hobby of! And then, when I say something that wasn't even particularly mean--really, it was just an observation, if you think about it--you decide to attack me instead?"

"Attack you? Tiara, all I said--"

Diamond Tiara didn't even pause, gathering steam as the diatribe continued. "Well you may be willing to forgive and forget, but I'm sorry, I guess I'm just not as enlightened as you are. I can't forget what they've done to us, how they've treated us since the very first day they set their beady, hateful eyes on us and decided with no provocation that we were enemies!" She narrowed her eyes at Silver Spoon. "If you want to turn traitor and be their doormat, be my guest. Just don't expect to play both sides of this game, because some grudges run too deep to erase, Silver Spoon."

"Okay!" Silver Spoon snapped, finally managing to interrupt the incensed earth pony when she hesitated to take a breath. "Okay, Tiara, I get it. But you have to understand, I wasn't attacking you, I was just...well, you know what it's like, right? To be the one they're making fun of?" Diamond Tiara sniffed haughtily, not responding. "I guess I...I dunno, I felt like...look, Scootaloo and I talked about all of this--the fighting, the insults, all of it--and we just decided it was impossible to get anything done if we're constantly sniping at one another, right?" The pink pony still didn't speak, but she examined Silver Spoon's face with skeptical eyes as she continued. "Anyway, I guess I just...you know, got caught up in that. I mean, it's nice...to not have her making fun of me every chance she gets. I just said what I said because I didn't want her to think I was breaking that pact and have her go back to being...well, Scootaloo."

There was a long silence during which Silver Spoon gritted her teeth, anxiously waiting for Diamond Tiara's response. Finally, the other mare sighed and settled back on her haunches, nodding very shallowly. "Okay, I guess that makes sense. But that doesn't mean you have to roll over for her all the time, right? I mean, it's not like she can hear us talking right now, or when we're hanging out at your house, or at the Parlor."

"Of course not!" Silver Spoon said quickly, relief flooding through her as she watched the anger drain from Diamond Tiara's face, her body relaxing and her expression softening. "And she's still an arrogant, spiteful mule most of the time. She just wasn't today, and I was just happy she wasn't messing with me for once."

"Yeah, I guess." Diamond Tiara didn't look entirely convinced, but as she shrugged and glanced up the road to where her father's carriage had just rounded a bend and was mere moments away, Silver Spoon considered the conversation to be more or less satisfactorily complete. "Anyway, my dad's almost here, so I guess I'll talk to you later. Are we going to hang out tonight, or what?"

"Oh," Silver Spoon said, "I guess. You want to come over, or...?"

Tiara made a noncommittal noise as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of them. "Maybe. I'll come by if I feel up to it."

"Oh, okay." Silver Spoon suddenly felt very uneasy as she watched the other mare climb up into the carriage. "See you later?"

"Yeah, see you." Then the door closed and the ponies pulling the carriage broke into a brisk, even trot, leaving a rising cloud of dust and a deep sense of malaise settling into Silver Spoon's chest as she slowly started down the road, beginning the long trek home.

The walk itself didn't seem to take very long these days, Silver Spoon mused to herself as she trotted up the long paved path to the front door of the Silver Estate, pausing at the door just long enough to allow Intricacy to open it for her.

"Good evening, madam," the unicorn intoned as she entered, just as he had every night for years.

Silver Spoon nodded in response, but didn't say anything. Her mind was occupied by curious, worried thoughts about how she and Diamond Tiara had parted ways, and she wanted to ask Carillon for her opinion--although she suspected Carillon's response would be negatively slanted against Tiara, as they often were. Still, the friendly unicorn's perspective was always well thought out, and Silver Spoon appreciated having someone to discuss such things with when she couldn't talk to Diamond Tiara.

Before she could get to the stairs, however, Intricacy said, "Miss, your father would like to speak with you. He's waiting in his study."

"Oh," Silver Spoon said, stopping. "Did he say what about?"

Intricacy shook his head. "No, madam. Simply that he needed to see you as soon as you came home."

"Okay," the young mare said, nodding. "Thanks, Cacy."

"Of course."

Silver Spoon detoured between the staircases and walked through the foyer towards the open hallway beyond. She turned left and followed it all the way to the end, where a massive, heavy door was set deep in the wall, the shadow cast by the jamb somehow adding a sense of foreboding to the entrance. Silver Spoon pursed her lips. She didn't like her father's study much. She was only ever summoned there for one reason: she was in trouble. But ignoring her father's summons only ever served to compound the problem, as she had learned early on in life, so she gritted her teeth and knocked on the door.

The thick mahogany resounded dully at her raps, echoing flatly in the large room behind. Her father's voice, muffled by the door, rang out clearly, albeit quietly. "Come in." Silver Spoon pushed the door open and walked inside. It swung closed of its own accord behind her.

Silversmith's study was extremely large, much moreso than any other room in the manor except the dining hall. Even the master bedroom was barely half the size of the study, but as the stallion spent much more time here than there, it made a certain perverse sense. The study itself was dominated by three clearly delineated areas, each dedicated to a disparate function and furnished as such. To Silver Spoon's left was an unkempt and paper-strewn drafting table covered in blueprints and pencils, t-squares and rulers and compasses, as well as notebooks full of sketches and diagrams and notes. The walls around it had photographs and more blueprints and sketches hanging on it, and three wide silver tubes standing upright in the corner were full of still more rolled up blueprints. To her right was a large workbench with several gleaming iron-colored tools, as well as a few large, intimidating machines standing nearby. There were blueprints here as well, but they were unrolled and weighted, so as to be read and referred to quickly. The rest of the area was dominated by pegboards and tables full of additional obscure tools specifically designed or even custom-crafted for her father's use.

Finally, in the middle of the room was a vast ebony desk, organized and clean, covered in all the accoutrements of business and various small awards sitting along the leading edge. Behind the desk were two large bookshelves full of technical manuals and business texts, and between the shelves was a wide space of wall completely plastered with framed diplomas, certificates, awards, commendations, honors, and distinctions, all addressed to the pony now sitting in front of them at the desk.

Silversmith was an austere, handsome stallion with a short, slightly unruly black mane and lead-colored fur so smooth and well-kept that it glittered slightly whenever he moved. His eyes were a muted dark blue, the pupils nearly indistinguishable from the irises around them. He wore a nearly constant expression of general ennui, but his eyes were quick and sharp, and as Silver Spoon came into the room, they were darting across the page of a folder he had lying open on the desk in front of him.

"Um..." the filly started, "you wanted to see-"

"Here." Her father gestured without looking up, pointing at a folded piece of yellow cardstock standing on edge at one corner of the desk. "This came today. It's been signed."

Silver Spoon meekly walked up and took the report card off the desk. "Oh, okay." She hesitated for a moment. "Um...did you...look at it?"

The stallion's voice hardened slightly. "It requests my signature to indicated I have read it, ergo I must have."

Silver Spoon's ears flattened against the top of her head. "Oh, right...of course." She nervously nosed the card open and peered at the contents with a sickening dread.

Vocabulary.........C

Spelling..............F

Literature...........D

Math..................F

Science.............F

Geography........D

History...............F

Magic................X

Flying................X

I am deeply concerned about Silver Spoon's lack of improvement and progress. I would like to

meet some time to discuss this in person. Please contact me about setting up an appointment

for a conference.

Thank you,

Miss Cheerilee

(Please sign below to indicate you have received and read this report.)

Silver Spoon's heart sank deep into her stomach and settled heavily there as she read each line. She had expected nothing less, of course, but it was still disheartening to see it in bold, black letters, coupled with Miss Cheerilee's prim, elegant script espousing words of concern and very nearly begging Silversmith to at least attempt to reach out to her on Silver Spoon's behalf. This was not, she knew, something her father was likely to do. She still asked. "Did you...want me to talk to Miss Cheerilee...ask if she-"

"No."

Silver Spoon trailed off as her father interrupted her shortly, the single syllable easily cutting across her hesitant question. She swallowed and tried again anyway. "But did you see-"

"I said I read it, did I not?" For the first time since she came in, Silversmith looked up from his desk and stared at his daughter. Silver Spoon wilted under the intensity of his gaze, his dark eyes narrowed and cold, boring into her with a ferocity she couldn't explain or describe. Her father was strong, yes, as any earth pony would be, but it went much further than that. His entire being carried a weight and power that cowed and awed anypony he met. In business, this was very useful, especially for dominating an entire roomful of executives and powerful elites. At home, speaking with his youngest daughter, it was overkill. It didn't seem to matter to him.

Shivering slightly in her father's overwhelming presence, Silver Spoon nearly turned and fled, as she had often done before when faced with this same piercing stare, but something stiffened within her heart, and she stood her ground, determined to get an answer. "Don't you want to meet with Miss Cheerilee? She asked you to."

Silversmith's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He was a cold, calculating intellect, and had a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of how everypony he knew conducted conversation. This was a clear divergence from the course of discussion his daughter normally followed. "Exactly what makes you think I would want to meet with your teacher? I do not do everything I am asked to. My day simply does not have enough hours in it to entertain every request of my time I receive."

"Well, doesn't anything in this report worry you at all?" Silver Spoon asked, her voice cracking slightly.

"Concern me?" Silversmith almost laughed, but instead contented himself with allowing one corner of his mouth to twitch upwards for an instant. "Silver Spoon, many things concern me. The current state of metallurgical research, the theory of intermetallic compounds and alloys, the status of any of my several hundred active contracts...but further proof that my daughter lacks the will--or perhaps simply the desire--to succeed at even the most basic of academic pursuits is not one of those things."

His words struck her like a blow to the face. Tears instantly sprung to her eyes and started sliding down her cheeks as her mouth fell open in stunned dismay. Incredulous, she said with a quavering, pleading voice, "So...you don't care if I fail?"

Silversmith studied her face for several long seconds. "Do you?"

She gaped, incensed. "Of course I do!"

"Prove it," he said, his mouth curling into a narrow sneer. "If you truly wanted to succeed, you could. Anyone can. It requires hard work, determination, a certain sense of purpose that I don't believe you possess. If," he continued, cutting across her sudden sob, "you spent less time lazing about with your friends, out on the town, and slacking off in your room and instead focused on your studies, you'd be doing better." He narrowed his eyes at her in a clear expression of accusation.

Silver Spoon couldn't respond. She couldn't even speak. Her throat burned and her eyes stung with shock and pain as her father's words echoed fiercely in her ears. She had never really expected any sort of support or help from her father, but this level of apathy and even genuine animosity was appalling and devastating. Crushed, the silver filly sobbed loudly as she wheeled on her hoof and fled the study, letting the sickly yellow progress report flutter to the floor, her grades, black and final, visible even from behind the desk. Silversmith took one final glance at the half-open card and grunted in disdain before returning to his work.