In the early morning of that long morning, only cicadas and slugs got to breathe easy under the humid stew of the late summer and the sour-smelling rain of the overcast sky. Last night's storm was drifting down the skyline and parts of the fading moon caught my eye as clouds left in droves. It was still drizzling so I adjusted my hood, yanking on the worn strings of that stupid candy-striped hoodie Mom thought was just so adorable and took off as soon as I saw red on the traffic light.

I didn't exactly need the flashlight that I brought along, clinched and flicking out in one hand, but being a long and borrowed police-standard stick, it would useful if I got in any trouble. The hobos that filled and stank up the backstreets of the Ponyville Flats, that long stretch of abandoned projects and empty houses from the old rioting spree of 01', knew when to run for it if they ever saw this shade of yellow light.

My flip flops sloshed through dark puddles and submerged trash as I flashed through the alleyways and into the gap in Ms. Cheerliee's wooden fence. She really should have gotten it fixed by now. I ducked in and out through the rows of well-groomed backyards and those precious gardens that I tramped through as I tried to pick up my speed. My flashlight rumbled, spat out one final sharp glow, and died. But I could always get more batteries later once I made it to my destination.

You could say that I have a 'student' discount in a way...

Granted if it wasn't for the flashlight, I'd be screwed once I made it pass the colorful houses and the off-beat orange that all of the street lights shared. Squinting and accepting that maybe I should have secured my light source before I left the house, I kept going. The blue fuzz that poked through the ripped stitches of endless gray and blackness of the sky was more than enough light for me to keep on making my way. And even if I broke some personal lawn ornaments on the way there, there's no way that anyone else could have saw me either.

Honesty, most people in Ponyville wouldn't have considered my spree of rampant running to have happened in the actual morning. To them, the morning doesn't start until the sun's up and they're running late for the rest of their boring lives. Running around five am, as I've learned, is just as bad as breaking curfew because I have a habit of-

I slipped into another yard and dashed over the field of imported foreign wildflowers and creepy looking dwarf statues. Something clicked under my feet and this blaring, shrieking sound busted out of that garden's formerly silent and ugly guardians. Ah, where was I? Running around five am, as I've learned the many times I've been caught, is as bad as breaking mandated Ponyville curfew because I have a habit of setting off alarms. Though to be fair, these homeowners should have thanked me for showing them how easy it was to sneak in their yards and destroy their award-winning whatevers.

Not that they could prove that it was me. I have yet to see any cameras installed or any threatening adults show up at home with IOUs. Or should it be UOMs? Is that a thing? I hope not. If they really cared, they would have built higher fences that I couldn't climb over. I'm wearing flip flops on top of it, not the most climbing appropriate footwear and I'm still making a good distance. Call it challenge. One of these days, I'm going to try the same run with only slippers.

Heaving myself over the fence while using that yard's own trampoline, I finally made it to the end of the block and took a left. My bag, full of my daily gear; sneakers, a change of clothing and other necessities for any morning workout, weighed heavier than usual as I tried to be careful with the guest items I had inside.

Picking up my steps, I reached the back of Canterlot High's sport fields in record time. Two minutes quicker than my usual and of course, ten minutes slower than Rainbow Dash on a sick day. Not that I was seriously keeping track of those things. I was merely aware of the difference. Very, very aware of the divide between the two of us and despite my training with her and the things I did on my own time, I wasn't able to beat the records she made my age.

Reaching the gym's backdoors, I jimmied open the lock with a spare hairpin, the same way Dash showed me a million times, and snuck inside. The halls were deserted like I expected and I remembered why I needed the flashlight all over again. Creeping down Hallway B, which was near all the sport clubs I'm guessing through all the darkness, I made a quick u-turn to where the supply closet would be.

If this was Hallway B with the opened lockers I'm bumping into and freshly mopped floors, then the supply closet of that new guy, Discord the devilishly-handsome janitor as he named himself, would be right about- Ow. The damned door swung open and hit me in the nose. I cradled my pulsating nose as I saw white stars blur and dance in my vision as something rolled against my shoes. I picked it up, moving my hands around it and determined that it was another flashlight. This was not a good sign. I always knew that I would get caught someday... I clicked it on and looked up. There was a poster of hastily drawn sketch of Discord laughing and jeering attached to the ceiling.

-Discord

P.S. That new flashlight is a solar one. Don't change the batteries.

P.S.S Please ask Celestia about the bail money should you finally get caught skulking around the school this early and unsupervised. It will make for the most hilarious detention story. I'll bring popcorn.

Yeah... No...

With my new flashlight, I made my way to the soccer clubroom and let myself in. Dropping my book bag on the table, I zipped it loose and hauled out streamers and ribbons to sit aside as I gently pulled out a cheap, but I hoped Dash would like it, twelve dollar cake.

I grabbed a chair, stuffed two streamers into my pockets as I held a third one in my hands and a roll of tape. I'm not trying to do anything too fancy like hang some streamers off the ceiling light but I figured a couple of lines of colorful paper might make things a bit more party-like. Also, I'd rather not leave a mess for Discord to clean even though that's in his job description if threatening to rat me out. Better stick with a wall and add a bunch of ribbons to cover up my uncreativeness. I'm no Pinkie Pie but I hoped I can do this right.

Moving the chair to the wall and climbing on, I started applying the streamers and went a little crazy.

Doing all of this probably wasn't necessary because Dash might have already had her fill of victory parties. Hardly a week has passed with the suburb abuzz with the news of the Wondercolts, Dash's soccer team, qualifying for nationals. I always knew that Dash could make it to nationals so I don't know why everyone is making it a big deal this time. The only thing that was holding were her teammates. They just-

A bit of tape and the ribbon it was attached to plopped onto my nose as I glanced up out of my reverie. Maybe, I went too far. The wall couldn't be called a wall anymore. It was layered and clustered with stripes of pink, orange and green with blue, purple and yellow swirls peaking through the gaps I made. Ribbons, wrinkled and over-taped, presented themselves like butterflies on display, giving off that same guilty yet can't-look-away-ness of those at the museum.

It's the thought that counts, right? I might have made the vomit of all colleges everywhere but nobody can deny that it wasn't colorful... Yeah... It has all the colors and none of them overpower each despite their bright neon and the ribbons were a great idea and... Dash doesn't care about this kind of stuff unless there wasn't snacks and I got her a whole cake. She wont care about the wall.... It's just a alarmingly lovely backdrop for sake of cake-eating. That's what I'll tell her.

I don't know what time it is but the sun crept through the window, casting a warm, muggy glow over the room. I sighed and sat down at the table and dropped my face into my hands. Dash should be here soon and like always, we'll talk, workout and wait for the rest of the team to show up for practice. If I was only a couple years older, I would be in Dash's team, and she'd never have to make that face she thinks that I didn't notice. That face of hers when she sees only I'm here early.

It's not anything personal. Dash agreed to train me once I proved to her that I was serious about becoming a athletic. But I knew she was waiting to see people who are actually on the team show the same enthusiasm like I did. Sometimes, Dash talked about it. She missed her hometown, Cloudsdale and how the kids she hung with back in those days. They had a fire for sports and victory and glory and of course, chilli-dogs. There's nothing wrong with her teammates; they did the stretches and most of them would come to practice if she yelled at them enough but it was getting too much for her to handle.

Dash was great in the field. Her kicks, her passes and feints... Ah, it's just a feast for the eyes for how she bends and streaks along the grass with the ball her fleeting prey. But despite how good she is, soccer is a team sport and I knew it hurts her when a pass she sends to one of her players is missed because that girl still has poor reflexes. Or when the opposite team makes easy shots passed the distracted rear guard and into the goal. Or when the team's goalie freaks out when too many balls get through and picks a fight with the coach over how she'd rather spend her free time if she's going to be hit with balls all days.

But there's nothing that I can do but cheer for Dash on from the sidelines and try to make myself into someone she can actually depend on the field. I rested my head on my arms and yawned into the table. I'm getting sleepy and Dash would be here soon. My eyes closed and I started to snooze.

---

I opened my eyes and saw Dash's fluffy rainbow hair spread out wildly across the tabletop, her snores shaking the table with rumbling. I looked to my left and saw that the cake was missing. Squinting and making dramatic gestures to Dash who was still knocked out and finished my act by smacking my forehead and groaned. I forgot a iron-clad rule! Never leave Dash alone with a cake! Now she's going to notice the wall and make jokes at me about it. Probably start off with, “ Hey, did you get any of that free cake... Oh, what's that wall for?” Oh god.

“Hey, we were supposed to share.” I muttered. “Did you really eat the whole cake?”

“Of course, I did Squirt.” Dash said, stiffly stretching her neck but not bothering to show her face which I knew was littered with crumbs and icing that she pilfered. “Need to get my carbs back somehow. But I didn't eat the second cake if that's what you're really worried about.”

“Second cake?” I looked right and saw a huge two-layers pound cake with orange and purple icing with my name on it. “Yoouuu...” I gasped.

“Yeah....”Rainbow Dash sighed and finally picked her head up. “Happy Birthday Scootaloo.”