The young unicorn walked down the hallway, her hooves clopping gently against the polished material. It was musical school, and Vinyl had been held back after class, again.

Vinyl was young yet, and like many of the fillies at the school, she had not yet acquired her cutie mark. Her mane was spiked, brushed forwards on one side in a very ‘cool’ style. Both her mane and tail were dyed an electric, alternating blue colour scheme. Her body was a very light blue colour, and her eyes were perpetually hidden behind a ‘cool’ pair of purple, reflective glasses.

The last of the teachers were on their way home, and Vinyl had been told to show herself out. She had been held back after class so many times now that it was becoming a common occurrence. And it was now a common occurrence for her to also sneak into the music room and play with the instruments.

It wasn’t her fault. Really. She was just different. She definitely loved music, with all her heart. All kinds of music, from all genres and all instruments. But she just couldn’t find an instrument that was really her. How could she dedicate herself to a single instrument if so many other instruments existed that she wanted to try?

And so Vinyl took advantage of her after-hours punishments to sneak into the music room and play with the instruments to her hearts content. She knew that music was her special talent, somehow. But finding her instrument was becoming...bothersome.

As she strode down the hall, however, she heard the faint tinkling of a piano.

Vinyl’s steps slowed, and she crept to the door of the music room, peeking through the glass window set into the door. A young brown pony was standing, stiff-backed at the piano, hooves flicking across the keys of the piano. She was playing an old classic song, from over a hundred years ago, eyes narrowed at the piece of paper in front of her. She was talented, but she looked as though she wasn’t much enjoying what she was doing. Her brow was furrowed deeply, and she was concentrating so hard. She slipped on a note, and scowled at the page, slamming her hooves down on the keys in frustration, before taking a deep breath, composing herself, and starting from the beginning again.

Having a good look around, and finding no teachers, Vinyl pushed through the door, ignoring the other pony and tilting the saxophone towards her, placing her mouth over the end and blowing firmly as she began to work the buttons on the saxophone, putting out a jaunty little tune that clashed horribly with the design of the saxophones range of sound.

The sounds from the piano stopped immediately, and the earth pony at the keys rounded on Vinyl, scowling. Her accent was very upper class and posh, as she said haughtily, “Would you please stop that? Some of us are trying to practice.”

Vinyl lifted her lips from the mouthpiece and leant the saxophone back against the stand, raising a brow at the earth pony behind her glasses, asking tardily, “What did you think I was doing?”

“Certainly not practicing. That godawful racket belongs in a madhouse, not a music school,” she responded with a scowl, waving a hoof dismissively, turning back to the piano. “If you intend to continue such horrid practice, I suggest you take it to another room.”

“I like this room,” Vinyl stated flatly, scowling herself as she moved over to a recorder, rubbing a hoof down the length of smooth plastic, touching each hole in turn. “The acoustics are better than the other rooms.”

“You mean you actually come here regularly? And didn’t just wander in off the street?” the uppish pony asked, turning to regard the unicorn again.

“Yup.” Vinyl responded, giving the recorder a tentative blow, working a note scale from lower to high and then back down again, before adding, “I would ask you the same question, as I’ve never seen you here.”

“I am from Canterlot,” the earth pony said, lifting her nose slightly and then turning back to the piano, touching a key gently, causing the piano to chime. “Our music school burned down. So we’re being sent here.”

“Do you always practice at such stupid hours?” Vinyl asked, raising a brow and moving over to the cello.

“I am making sure I am perfect,” the haughty pony responded, drawing herself upwards and puffing her chest out.

Vinyl snorted a moment at that. “You’ve got a long way to go.”

“I beg your pardon?” came the quick response, offended.

“I heard you hit the wrong keys earlier. You didn’t seem happy about it,” Vinyl stated, gently drawing the cello bow across the strings, tilting it just so to get the right note.

“I need it to be perfect,” the pony hissed, her eyes narrowing.

“Well...it won’t ever be perfect like that,” Vinyl said with a shrug of her shoulders, drawing the bow across the strings once more, before placing the bow aside, moving on to the harp and plucking at the strings.

“What are you doing? Have you never seen these instruments before?!” the pony demanded of Vinyl.

The unicorn raised a brow, and then shook her head slightly, drawing the bow over the strings in a rapid series of quick notes, making the violin hum a happy tune. “I’ve used all these instruments before...still can’t decide which ones I like the most though.”

“Just pick one!” the earth pony cried, clapping her hooves over her ears with a sound of suppressed anger.

“I haven’t chosen my perfect instrument yet...I like them all,” Vinyl said dismissively. “You’re not going to be here every afternoon, are you?”

The haughty earth pony grit her teeth, and flexed her hooves slowly, before replying tardily, “Not if you’re going to be here, no.”

“Oh goodie!” Vinyl said with a smile. “I’ll have the room all to myself.”

“You are insufferable Miss Unicorn,” came the flat statement.

“I’m not miss,” Vinyl rebuked, wrinkling her nose. “I’m Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch. Mind you remember that name, because I’ll be famous one day.”

The earth pony scowled back at the unicorn for a moment. “And I am Octavia. Remember that name because I will be a much better musician than some riff-raff unicorn.”

“Riff-raff?” Vinyl asked with a soft, derisive snort. “I’ll take riff-raff over some high-and-mighty snooty pony.”

“Very well, Vinyl Scratch,” Octavia said, waving a hoof, “I am kindly requesting that you take your woesome musical skills to another room so I can practise. As I cannot move the piano.”

The young unicorn peered at the earth pony for a moment, a smirk spreading across her face as she sat down on her rump and shook her head, adjusting her glasses. “You’ll just have to practice while I’m watching. I hope you don’t mind an audience...or pressure.”

Octavia narrowed her eyes, scowling and huffing softly, before tossing her mane and turning back to the piano, staring down at the notes on the paper. She reached up and started the metronome, and then began to very purposefully hit the keys. She was perfect. Perfect form, perfect timing, not a single note missed in the entire complex sequence.

Vinyl merely watched her, expression hidden behind her reflective glasses, head canted a little bit to one side.

Octavia triumphantly hit the final keys, and then turned a smug face towards Vinyl. “...Well?”

“You’re pretty good,” Vinyl said coolly, turning to the side to trail a hoof down the length of a fiddle, plucking one of the strings to test its tension. “...But it was flat.”

“...Flat,” Octavia repeated, her tone affronted.

“Flat,” Vinyl confirmed with a nod, drawing the bow across the fiddle curiously for a moment, working the strings. “No passion...no fire.”

“And I suppose riff-raff like you would know anything about passion!” Octavia protested, offended.

The young unicorn just raised a brow at the angry earth pony, and then smiled. “You’re cute when you’re righteously angry.”

Octavia deflated instantly, thrown off by the words, blinking at the unicorn for a long moment, her ears splaying backwards.

“And that accent. So cute.” Vinyl continued, cooing her words sarcastically sweetly.

The earth pony bristled, turning away, stating, “I will not let your words get under my skin.”

“Too late, it seems,” Vinyl said with a smirk, putting the fiddle down and moving over to the organ instead, beginning to hit the keys.

“You are the most impossible pony I have ever met!” Octavia hissed.

“You can always leave.” Vinyl said, making the organ vibrate out a slow, sad melody.

“Fine!” Octavia huffed, turning on her hooves and stalking out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Vinyl just shook her head, pressing the keys on the organ, giggling to herself, “High class and high strung.”