What am I supposed to tell them? I'm sorry, but I'm cancelling my birthday? The world doesn't work like that!

A groan courses through my body like a bad dinner trying to work its way back out. What am I thinking? I can't just blow off my friends. They probably worked hard on whatever little party they've planned. I hate birthdays, and not just because of some bad dream. Mom, my real mom, makes a point of stopping by to see me, but she barely even says 'hi' before flying off again and leaving me in the dust. At least my friends seem to care.

I'd just love to take off after my mother and force her to stay, but each and every year that looks less and less likely. It just kills me inside to watch everypony else grow up and fly away while I'm stuck on the ground forever and ever. Being one year older just makes it that much more painful to watch foals still wet behind the ears buzz around like flies.

Here I am, leaning against the door to our clubhouse. I know I should open the door, but at the same time—wait, what's that?

There's glint in the sky. It's hard to see through the apple trees, but it looks like sky chariot. It's moving at a good clip and vanishes in hardly a few seconds. But forget about that. Sky, you and me have some unfinished business. One of these days, I'm going to fly up there, and I'm going to punch you in the face for all the pain that you've caused me. I want to fly up there now, but...

I bite my lip. No matter how hard I try...

Shaking my head, I stare at the wooden door. I can't worry about my feelings now. My friends are waiting. Whelp, here goes nothing.

“Surprise! Happy birthday, Scootaloo!” Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom yell. Our clubhouse is decorated with streamers and confetti. Draped with a white cloth that looks suspiciously like Rarity's shower curtain, the table holds a lopsided cake alit with ten candles. But that's not the best part. Each of my friends are also grinning and holding gifts. Eh, screw nightmares. Maybe this birthday thing won't be so bad, after all.

I can practically feel my eyes sparkle. “Wow, thanks, girls,” I say. Apple Bloom's gift is shaped just like a scooter! I reach over for it. “So, can I open my presents now or–”

“Not yet. You have to blow out the candles first.” Sweetie Belle points at the cake. They'd apparently lit the candles too early, since hot wax is dribbling down on the frosting.

“And we have to sing 'Happy Birthday,' ” Apple Bloom adds.

“Right, of course.” I roll my eyes.

“Happy birthday. Happy birthday.

Happy birthday, Scootaloo.

You're one year older on this day.

You're one year wiser on this day.

One year bigger, one year stronger,

One year smarter, one year longer.

“Happy birthday. Happy birthday.

Happy birthday, Scootaloo.

You've earned one candle for each year.

Your life burns down but do not fear.

'Happy Birthday,' we do shout.

Make a wish and blow them out!”

Ugh. How embarrassing. I hope I'm not blushing too hard. Sweetie Belle has a nice voice, but it doesn't help when Apple Bloom sings like a cow.

I take a deep breath and step up to the cake and close my eyes. I wish I could fly! I blow for all I'm worth, and cheat a little by fanning with my wings too. Ten satisfying little wisps of smoke greet me when I open my eyes.

“Yay.”

“You did it!”

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle clap their hooves together. I smile. It's a hollow victory, but I'll take what I can get.

“So what did ya wish for?” Apple Bloom asks.

“You're not supposed to ask her that,” Sweetie Belle scolds.

“Naw, it's okay.” Twisting around, I inspect my tiny wings and frown. If anything, they look even smaller than they did yesterday. “It's the same thing I wish for every year...” I let my voice trail off. Perhaps I'll get lucky today and my wish will actually come true. I open them and fan the the air. It feels invigorating to pump them like that, and a swirl of confetti stirs up behind me. These are my wings, and they are for flying. “Say, I am one year older now, perhaps I really can–”

“Don't you want to open your presents first?” Sweetie Belle interrupts. She grins like a clown, and Apple Bloom points at her gift.

Their eyes are full of worry and my heart sinks. Those huge grins are just masks; they lack sincerity. No! This is just like my dream. They really don't have any confidence in me. And why should they? They know as well as I do that I still can't fly. As much as I wish for it, being a year older doesn't magically make me any more able bodied; it just makes my lack of ability to fly that much more painful. It hurts, hurts, hurts.

Sapped of my enthusiasm, I turn my attention back to the presents. “Well, I guess.”

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle exchange a look. I usually don't give up so quickly.

“Mine first.” Sweetie Belle levitates over her pink-wrapped box tied with a red ribbon.

I grab it out of the air and watch as her lime aura fades away. At least it's not empty, but... “This is heavier than I expected. You're getting better with your magic.”

“Thanks. I still feel clumsy with it, but all that practicing has made it stronger.”

I'm holding a birthday present, but I can't help but frown. “No matter how much I practice...”

“Come on, open it! I want to see what you got,” Apple Bloom says.

The package has some fancy wrapping paper, but the folds are uneven and the ribbon's a bit lopsided. Whatever, I tear it off and rip apart the paper. It wafts to the floor, revealing the box. “A new helmet?” Well, that's... a perfect gift for somepony you have no confidence in. I frown inside, but force myself to smile.

“Yep. Your old one was getting really banged up and you said it was starting to feel tight. This one's bigger, and is raspberry-purple to match your mane.”

She is right. I do need a new one. I tear off the bland-tasting tape with my teeth and pop the box open. The helmet's color is more of a deep purple, but I'm not one to complain if it fits. I try it on and shake my head around before removing it and setting it on the table by the cake. It's nice, but now that I can see it in the light, it has frills are just, well, girly. “Thanks, Sweetie Belle. It is a lot more comfortable, but did you really have to get one that's covered in little pink hearts?”

“Yes. ♥”

“Ooh, ooh, mine next!” Apple Bloom points at her present. “I bet you can't guess what it is.”

I roll my eyes. “I can already see that it's a new scooter.”

“But you don't know that for certain until ya open it. It could be a bookshelf.”

Apple Bloom's present is only partially covered in pink wrapping paper. She apparently ran out, and tried to use newspapers to cover the rest. It's distinctively scooter-shaped, and most definitely not a bookshelf. Wait, her dream-gift was covered in newspapers...

No! I am not doing this again. A new scooter is not the same thing as proof of my inability to fly! Ack. They're giving me odd looks so I better say something quick. “Apple Bloom, you didn't even wrap it properly. I can see one of the wheels sticking out.” I point at the bottom where the wrapping has come loose.

“Uh, well, it could be a bookshelf with wheels?”

Tearing off the wrapping paper, I reveal a brand new scooter. It's painted orange with two purple racing stripes down the center. “Nope, it's definitely a scooter.” And it looks awesome too. My inner self groans at more of the same, but at the same time, this is the best gift she could have given me. I hop on, and grin like the Mane-iac. Twisting the handlebars, I push off and blast my way around the room in jagged circles. It rides smooth, lacking the wobbly axle my old one has. It even responds well when I jump up and bounce off the walls.

Riding my scooter does feel like flying, with my wings abuzz and the wind whipping in my face, but forever confined to the ground. Thinking of that kills my mood. I pull to a stop. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I lean my new scooter up against the wall underneath one of my, er, our Rainbow Dash posters. “It handles well and rides smooth. Thanks, Apple Bloom. This is so much nicer than the one I have now.”

“You're welcome, glad ya like it!”

“Cake time!” Sweetie Belle proclaims and picks up a knife in her mouth. Oh right, she said she's still clumsy with magic. She probably doesn't feel comfortable levitating sharp objects yet.

I pick up the helmet to get it out of the way and place it in my new scooter's basket. My heart's still racing from running around, but I can't help but drool at the cinnamon aroma of the cake. I grab the piece that's the least covered in candle wax and stuff it in my mouth. It's moist, sweet, and crunches with apple chunks. “Mmm, this is really good.”

“Thanks, I baked it myself.” Apple Bloom scrapes the wax off her piece, and most of the frosting comes off with it. She snorts in irritation.

Wait—she baked it herself? I raise an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you said you weren't very good at that. Didn't you ruin the last batch of cupcakes you tried to make?”

She licks at the frosted wax, then glances at me and shrugs. “Ah guess, but that was like a really long time ago. All this work with potion making has rubbed off on cooking too. I've had a lot more success now that I've learned not to be so impatient and actually follow the recipes.”

“Huh.” I set down my empty plate and stare idly at the crumbs and smudge of frosting on the side. “Sweetie Belle's getting better at magic, and you're getting better at, well, stuff in general.” I buzz wings briefly, sending a gust of air through the room and stirring up the confetti again. “Me? I'm not getting better at anything.”

“Aw, don't say that, Scoots. Yer getting much better at lots of stuff.” Apple Bloom points at the scooter. “Like, I bet that you can take that apart and put it back together again just as good as it is now.”

“Oh, right.” I frown, and dark anger wells up unbidden. I don't try to fight it, as she's picking at my sore spot. “Just because I can't fly, I have to do something else. But it doesn't matter how good I get because it's not what I really want to do!”

“Well, nopony ever gets everything they want out of life. That's what my sister always tells me when I badger her for stuff,” Sweetie Belle says.

“It isn't stuff I want, Sweetie Belle.” I snap a hoof at the window. “I just want to fly.”

Apple Bloom shrugs. “Ah think it'd be fun to fly, too, but I know I'm never going to.”

Oh, she did not just say that! A flash of her dumb dream-wing-cutie mark things comes to mind, deepening my fury. I snarl and shove Apple Bloom, who nearly falls over. “You don't know what I'm going through! Of course not being able to fly doesn't bother an earth pony. You're not supposed to fly. I am!”

“Uh, sorry.” Apple Bloom hangs her head. “I didn't mean to upset you. Ah mean, it's yer birthday an—”

A clang rings from outside near our clubhouse. Rushing over to the window, I get there first and the others crowd behind me, looking over my shoulders.

Fluttershy and Bulk Biceps are hovering in the air and both look a little sheepish. The ground beneath them is covered in horseshoes. Fluttershy flies down and picks one up. She does a few loops through the nearby tree branches and extends her hoof to meet Bulk's, who's waiting for her. They both fumble and drop the horseshoe.

“What are they doing?” Sweetie Belle asks.

“It looks like they're practicing relay flying again, and not doing a very good job of it,” Apple Bloom says.

“Why are they doing that? Aren't the Equestria Games already over?”

“Maybe they're trying for the gold medal next year?”

My friends quiet down and we simply watch in silence. Fluttershy's not bad at flying, but she's super weak, and very sensitive about it. Bulk—I can hardly even see his wings!

“I don't know,” Sweetie Belle says. “They don't seem to be practicing too hard. Mostly, they're just laughing and staring at each others' eyes.”

“Augh!” I slam the blinds shut, causing the others to stumble backwards. “That's one pony who doesn't want to fly, and another who's wings are even smaller than mine, and they both have medals for flying! It's not fair! It's just not fair!”

“Uh, Scootaloo—”  Whatever she was saying gets cut off when I glare daggers at her.

“I don't want to hear it. I know it was mostly thanks to Rainbow Dash.” I sigh. “But it's still not fair.” I stomp over to our clubhouse door and fling it open. Sky, I hate you even more now. “You know what? I'm a pegasus, flying's my birthright, and today's my birthday. It's about time I claimed it. I'm going to step out there, and I'm going to fly.”

“Are ya sure about that?” Apple Bloom asks. “We are pretty high up in this tree house. If ya fall–”

“I'm not going to fall. I'm going to fly.”

“Do you at least want your helmet?” Sweetie Belle asks. She has a sweet grin, but the strap on the helmet gets caught on the basket as she tries to levitate it out. She glances back and forth, then gives up when she sees how sour I am.

“This isn't some stunt I'm trying to pull, Sweetie. All I want to do is fly. No other pegasus needs a helmet just to fly.” I glance down and involuntarily shudder. I am pretty high up. Wavering on the edge, I gulp. It's a bad idea, but I'll look stupid if I back out. I jump.

The others wince, but I'm not about to hit the ground without a fight. I buzz my wings as furiously as I possibly can. They sear with the effort, but it works. Instead of falling, I rise ever so slightly. My back arcs, and I force my aching joints to buzz even harder and harder and harder still. At this height, I could do more than break a leg, but I don't care. I'm through with failure! I'm going to go up! “I-I think I'm doing it. I'm flying; I'm—augh!”

Something pops and I see stars. My wings completely seize up. I can still move my right side, but I can't fly like this! Futilely, I wave my legs in the air and drop like a rock. The ground rushes up like a hammer to add even more injury to injury. I wince.

“Oof.” I'm knocked to the side and my eyes pop open. Fluttershy dove down to grab me, but my wing hurts far too much to properly thank her. It's all I can do to keep my teeth clenched to avoid crying out. She carries me back up to the clubhouse and walks inside, gently placing me on the floor. “You're lucky I saw you fall. Are you okay, Scootaloo?”

It feels like something's yanking on my wing, trying to tear it off. I point at it and speak though clenched teeth, “My-my wing.”

“Hmm,” Fluttershy frowns and pokes at the wayward limb, triggering another stab of white-hot pain. The poor thing sticks out at an odd angle. She motions for the others to stay back. “It looks dislocated. I can fix it, but...” She removes her horseshoe and stuffs it in my mouth. “Bite down. This is going to hurt.”

The metal's cold and—a blistering sensation of white spots sears with the agony of a fiery poker being grated over my spine. Something pops and the pain abruptly recedes, simply throbbing with misery. Tears roll down my cheeks.

Bulk Biceps sticks his nose in the door, but Fluttershy waves him off. She's still fiddling with my wing, forcing it open and closed and wiggling it around. It hurts like crazy, even as gentle as  she's trying to be.

“That's good; your range of motion is fine. Nothing is broken, so you should make a quick recovery. You'll want to ease up on using your wing for a while, but it'll be good as new once all the terrible, throbbing pain dies down.”

I slowly open my mouth. I'd been biting so hard my jaw became stiff. With a clatter, the horseshoe falls out, marred by a fresh set of teeth marks. “Ow.”

“I didn't know you were a doctor,” Sweetie Belle says. She's ignoring me to talk to Fluttershy?

“Uh, well, I'm only really supposed to work on animals.”

Apple Bloom frowns and raises an eyebrow. Does she think I'm some kind of animal? Oh for the love of—she'd better not make a chicken joke!

“But I am qualified enough to offer first aid to ponies,” Fluttershy quickly adds. The others nod, and watch me wince in pain. Are they not going to say anything? For all that they seem to care, they might as well just poke me with a stick!

“Ah'm just glad you didn't make a 'Scootaloo's a chicken' joke,” Apple Bloom says.

I'm... aghast.

Fluttershy blinks. “Huh?”

“You know, because she can't fly?” Apple Bloom says.

Fluttershy, at least, has the decency to frown. Sweetie Belle covers her mouth when she sees my very, very, sour expression. Screw pain! I'm not going to just sit here and be picked on. I glare daggers at my 'friends.' “I'm fine. Thanks for asking,” I say, practically spitting bitterness with my words.

Sweetie Belle sort of fidgets with her hooves and looks at the ground. “Uh, Scootaloo, I'm sorry that you got hurt, but–”

“I don't want to hear it.” Right now, I can't stand to be in their presence. I walk out the clubhouse and climb down the stairs.

Apple Bloom runs after me. “Wait, Scootaloo, where are you going?”

“Someplace away from here.”

“But—don't you want to play with your new scooter?”

“No!” Apple Bloom tears up when I yell back. Gah! Why does she have to be so cute? “Look, I can't even use it until my wing heals. Just, leave me alone, okay?”

Fluttershy steps out next to Apple Bloom and looks down from the balcony. “Wait, Scootaloo, don't you want something for the pain? I can get some salve from my cottage if you'd like.”

I sigh. The pain is fierce, but it's dying down already. I'll be fine on my own. It's mostly my pride that's hurt. “Fluttershy, thanks for helping me, but no, I don't need to be babied.” The words came out harsher than I intended, but she simply nods.

Turning back to the others, Fluttershy asks in a softer voice, “What are all the ribbons and confetti for? Were you having some kind of party?”

Aaargh! No! Don't tell her! I should run back and—oh, forget it! I don't care anymore. I storm down the trail back to town. All along the way, I kick at loose sticks and stones, sending them rolling. With venom, I give a large stone a particularly vicious punt. It bounces, scuffs, and skids like a crash victim that'd taken a fall so hard that it'd wish it were dead.

Life sucks! Why does it have to be so infuriating all the time? I was so close and then this happens. I can't be stuck on the ground my whole life, but my wigs would rather fall off than work properly. The pain's a dull roar now, and it won't let me forget that I'm attached to such useless lumps. Trying to fly is about as easy as trying to move a mountain. It's impossible, and if I keep trying then I'm going to wind up killing myself. I almost killed myself already.

I sigh and drag a hoof on the ground. What's the use? I might as well give up on flying altogether. And while I'm at it, I should climb into a chicken coop and start laying eggs, because that's what I really am—a chicken. Gah! I hate talking to myself when I'm miserable, because I only ever make myself feel worse. I am not a chicken, and I am not going to give up! I just... don't know what to do.

A gurgling noise catches my attention and I'm thankful for the distraction. Minuette's working on some plumbing with her magic, and soon the statue in Ponyville's town square springs to life, fanning out a spray of water in a wet umbrella. That stony mare is forever playfully frolicking, balanced on her rocky pedestal. Satisfied with the result, that spring-stepped light blue unicorn closes the access panel and skips off to tend to her other duties. How can she be so cheerful like that? Can't she see that I'm upset?

Well, I do have a reason for being in town, and the fancy white and gold royal chariot parked next to Town Hall confirms my suspicions. That must be the one I saw fly in earlier. Princess Celestia is inside, if the pegasus guards standing at attention are any indication.

She... No, no, I haven't been abandoned, not exactly. I can always return home and I won't be turned away, but, well... she hardly ever visits, and keeps everything between us secret. Is she really that ashamed of me? I wish she'd tell me why we have to go through all of this. It's another thing to ask about.

I know I should wait for a "discreet" moment, but I'm so torn right now, and not just literally. If there's anypony alive who can tell me why my wings are so tiny and useless, it's her, but asking her questions is generally an exercise in frustration. She always tells me to wait until I'm older. Well, I get older every day. All I can do is keep asking.

I walk up to one of the gold-clad white guards and stare at his orange eyes. “Excuse me, sir, but I'd like to see Princess Celestia.” Next Chapter: Questions and Caverns Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 2 Minutes