Chance was a funny thing, Sweetie had grown to learn. It was the sometimes bothersome force that made certain things fall into place. Chance was when she made hay pancakes in the early morning, and Rarity just happened not to be in the mood for the breakfast treat. Chance was when she forgot her homework, but there was a substitute that day for class. It was also when Dinky couldn't come out to play when she had the best idea in all of Equus.

Or when Sweetie stumbled upon a filly repeatedly banging her head against a trash can in a dark alley.

The rain drizzled around her, and birds circled above in the grey and brooding sky. It was a day that greatly annoyed Sweetie, for everything seemed to move in an extremely sluggish and boring way. Even Pinkie Pie had been a bit quieter than usual when Sweetie had picked up the cupcakes from Sugarcube Corner: pistachio and cream cheese cupcakes to be exact. As much as she'd rather not have to see such cakes in her life, Rarity had had a certain craving, and asked Sweetie to grab the healthiest cupcakes from the store.

So that was how she found herself, paperbag grasped between her hooves, standing before a peculiar filly beside the Sofa and Quill Store. Peculiar was a word Sweetie commonly referred to as old and frilly-- used by the uptight ponies of Canterlot-- and she prefered to avoid those things as much as possible. Sure, Rarity could perhaps pull it off when she was being a drama queen, but Sweetie never imagined a situation would call for it. And yet the pony before her could only be fitted with such a word.

Her orange coat was streaked with the dust and dirt of the surrounding stones, and her mane was cut short in a tangled bob of magenta hair. Stunted open wings fluttered uselessly be her thin sides, as her cracked hooves kicked against the dirt.

Sweetie's bag fell to the ground, and she stared wide eyed in shock. She knew this filly.

Well, perhaps know wasn't quite how she would describe their relationship status. Sweetie had heard of her from the whispers of the adults, and from a couple yellowing papers tacked up. She swallowed hard, stepping forward just an inch.

It was the orphan.

Sweetie Belle hated labels. She despised the way ponies took one word, one utterly simple word, and stuck it on a mare or stallion like it defined them. Because it didn't. Ponies were so much more than just a label, once you got to know them. But Sweetie didn't know the filly. She had no clue who she was, despite the rumors spread around Ponyville.

The orphan.

The thief.

The delinquent.

Was she truly any of those things? Sweetie Belle watched her carefully--silently. She looked rugged, but not dangerous. She just seemed broken.

Thud, Thud, thud.

Her constant banging snapped Sweetie out of her stupor. She took a deep breath, and cleared her throat softly. She raised her hoof up just a bit incase the filly got startled.

There was no response, save for the thuds of head hitting can. Sweetie bit her lip, and furrowed her brow.

"Ahem," she coughed. Sweetie waited ever so patiently, but the other pony made no reply.

"Ahemm!"

With a deep sigh, the thuds ceased, and a small, rough voice spoke up from the shadows. "What do you what?"

Sweetie Belle was taken back by the sarcastic tone, and flattened her ears. "Umm, hi. I just wanted to..."

She was cut off by the continuation of banging.

Sweetie huffed indignantly. Quietly, she stepped forwards, until she was a couple hooves away from the orange pony. Then, with the biggest smile she could muster, she sat down beside her.

"Hi."

The filly grimaced in frustration. When she looked up, Sweetie caught notice of her red ringed eyes and swollen forehead, and she gasped. "Oh my gosh!" she squeaked, pulling her away from the trash can. "You're hurting yourself!"

The filly pushed away Sweetie's hooves. "Yeah, and why does that matter?" Her voice trembled a bit.

Sweetie Belle creased her forehead in concern. "Of course it matters! You're a pony! Ponies shouldn't hurt themselves on purpose!" she protested, carefully rubbing the filly's forehead, who flinched.

"But why shouldn't I?  It's not like I matter," she grumbled.

Sweetie Belle found herself suddenly reaching forward, and embracing the dirty filly. Maybe it wasn't the best choice, but who knew? Sometimes hugs really helped.

The filly stiffened in her hold, but didn't fight away. "Listen, just, why are you here?" she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

Sweetie Belle smiled as she sat back. "Have you ever had somepony help you before?"

The filly squinted her eyes. "Maybe."

Sweetie giggled. "Well, I'm here to help you! My name's Sweetie Belle. What's yours?" She offered out her white hoof  to the filly.

The filly stared at her hoof for a moment, before squeezing her eyes shut and shaking it. "Scootaloo."

"That's a nice name," Sweetie replied, to the begrudgement of the filly.

Then she waited, and realized Scootaloo had turned back to the trashcan, and was shuddering. Sweetie scooched forward, and placed a hoof on her shoulder. "Scootaloo! What's wrong?" She almost knew the answer, but hoped she could still help.

Scootaloo furtively wiped her eye. "Nothing."

Sweetie Belle clasped her hooves together in a plea. "Scootaloo, I am bond to your assistance now. There are no second chances. Please, let me help you!"

Scootaloo glanced up at her light green eyes. "It's the blue pegasus," she breathed, grabbing her knees. "The one with the rainbow mane."

Sweetie's mouth opened, and then closed. What? No mention about her lack of parents, nothing about life on the streets, or about her hunger? Just... a pegasus?

After Sweetie finally managed to wrap her head around it, she tilted her head. "Rainbow Dash?"

Scootaloo shrugged. "I don't know her name, but I'll bet you anything with a name that cool, it's definantly her!" But then she sighed. "She'll never notice me." Her head fell forward, only to be stopped by Sweetie Belle.

"Notice you?"

"Of course! I was watching her today--flying around faster than the speed of light-- and she didn't say anything. I'm sure she saw me, but she didn't say hello! After how much I look up to her, she doesn't even care! But I mean, who can blame her? I'm useless!" Scootaloo cried.

Sweetie Belle frowned. "You are not useless!"

Scootaloo stomped her hoof on the ground. "But look at my wings! I'll never get off the ground!" She fluttered her limbs to demonstrate their weakness.

"So? You don't need to, Scootaloo. Maybe you'll fly someday, and maybe you won't! But Rainbow Dash won't care!" Sweetie said.

"Then why hasn't she come to me yet?" Scootaloo scrunched her muzzle. "If I could fly, she might finally say something!"

Sweetie Belle bit her lip. "Listen. Sometimes... ponies get nervous around others. They might not know what to say, in some situations."

Scootaloo looked down. "It's because I'm an orphan, isn't it?! Ponies are too darn scared that I'll bite their head off that they can't even talk to me?!

Sweetie Belle shook her head. "Well, I'm here, aren't I?"

Scootaloo opened her mouth. "--I guess you are," she muttered, her face red.

Sweetie Belle grinned slyly. "And I think I know what to do to get Rainbow's attention," she said.

Scootaloo's eyes widened. "What?"

"You're gonna have to sleep over at my house to hear the answer!" She squealed when Scootaloo's arms came down, but she softened when she realized it was just a hug. Scootaloo squeezed her chest. "Really?"

Sweetie nodded sincerely. "Really."

                                                                    ~~~~~~

Chance was a wonderful thing. It was what made Sweetie Belle, offering over her cupcakes, walk to Carousel Boutique. It was what made Scootaloo eagerly follow behind, laughing at her joke. Chance was what made Rarity open the door, and allow a small stranger in their home.

And it was what made Sweetie Belle find a pony who was in need of a friend.

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