Since I made such a big deal last year to raise enough funds to build a swimming pool in Canterlot High, Diamond Tiara offers to take me to her own private swimming pool at the back of the mansion which is, basically, a part of their backyard.

I accept.

I only calculated a thirty-nine percent chance that the Rich family would have their own swimming pool, and possibly also a jacuzzi (and I was right, but the latter is indoors in two places), but I still considered those odds high enough to bring my own swim gear. As it turns out, I am glad I came prepared. That is what it means to be a perfectionist.

Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon also dress into their own swim gear, but they barely did more than put their legs into the water the whole time. For the most part, they just relax on the pool strap lounge chairs.

It does not surprise me at all that Scootaloo did not bring any swim gear. After all, coming to this home was a spur of the moment decision for her. Besides, I'm not sure if she even has a swimsuit. If she does, it's most likely a gift from Rainbow Dash.

However, the fact that Sweetie Belle isn't prepared does kind of surprise me. She watched over Diamond like a hawk for the past two months. That's long enough to realize that the Rich family have their own swimming pool, and Sweetie also strikes me as a girl who normally comes prepared. She also strikes me as honest, which is why I'm surprised that she claims she did not bring swim gear.

As for my swimsuit, it is a single-piece swimsuit that my mother used to wear when she was my age, hence the deep purple color. It does not match my complexion, so Rarity would be offended at me, but this swimsuit is a bit sentimental for me nonetheless.

I also wear swim goggles and a swim cap, even though I know I'll have to straighten my hair again when I'm done with it.

I feel a little self-conscious about the fact that I am the only girl here who seriously uses the swimming pool, but I don't let that stop me. I use it for a half-hour straight just doing swimming laps back and forth in the pool. I push myself especially hard during the middle fifteen minutes. I warm up, swim hard, then cool back down using all the techniques I learned from swim class.

During this time I sort of sink into a trance. The stress and woes of my life just drift away as I swim in the water.

It's just me and the water. That moment feels pure.

When I step out of the water, Scootaloo remarks in an admiring tone how swift and graceful I was in the water. As I look at her while toweling myself off, it occurs to me that Scootaloo has been giving me too many compliments lately. The most likely cause is she's jealous of me, and she's unlikely to be the only one.

That is quite an epiphany for me. As I crawl onto and relax on the pool lounge chairs, it dawns on me that I actually do have a pretty swell life considering how badly Little Miss Prissy severely derailed it once. Despite that, my life turned out pretty darn okay.

While relaxing and stretching on the lounge chair, I think back to why this is true, and the most likely reason is all the wonderful adults that have raised me over the years. My birth parents were perfect. Indeed, too perfect to tolerate me.

As for my new mother, it's like she's a bio-engineered super mom from the future. It's like everything about her is designed to be perfect for me in the right way, or at least very darn close to perfection. The right level of nerdiness. The right level of affection. The right number of useful resources. The right level of naivetés.

There is also the fact that my mom is magical. That felt like overkill. It's like that totally amazing detail about her is tossed in as a mere afterthought, like saying, “She's a genius who can identify with you like no other. She loves you, she supports you, she provides for you in just the right way, she gives you technology at least fifty years ahead of your time, and . . . Oh YEAH! She's also magical to boot, like a magical fairy tale princess from a story book. Just a little something extra for ya to think about in case all of her previous qualities doesn't sell her to you.”

The only problem with my mother is that it's exhausting work to remain worthy of her love, but she makes it worth it.

As for the rest of my mother's friends, they are wonderful human beings too, but thinking of them stabs a pang of guilt in me about Sunset.

* * *

I lean forward as I peer carefully at my reflection in the mirror in Diamond Tiara's personal bathroom next to her bedroom. Using the mirror as a guide, I carefully curl my hair in tiny round plastic bits to retrain my hair’s shape after swimming.

Feeling satisfied after I put in the last piece, I look at my shirt in the reflection. It is an overly long shirt that goes past my waist, but it is the only article of clothing I am wearing at the moment other than my tiny bra and normal-sized panties. The shirt in question is a deep pink shirt that says in sparkling rainbow letters that spell out, “My superpower is being CUTE!” A single rainbow arches over the text. It ends in two pointy silver stars at each end of the rainbow.

The reflection in the window reverses the text, of course, but I know what it says regardless.

I grab the bottom of the long shirt to tug at it in order to straighten it.

Yeah. That seems good. I look presentable at this point, so I rejoin the others.

I exit the bathroom. Reflexively, I reach to turn off the light switch while simultaneously forgetting that there is an automatic sensor for this bathroom. Most of the rooms in my mother's house are like this too, so it's strange that I have the subconscious habit of reaching for something that isn't there.

I pause to soak everything ahead of me when I enter Diamond's bedroom.

The bedroom itself is a lot smaller and more modest-looking than I expected, but most of the items within it are fairly high quality, if not better. Her bed kind of reminds me of my own except far more mature looking.

She, too, has a computer desk in one corner which probably doubles up as a study desk.

Directly to my right, there is another room which is a walk-in closet. Diamond showed it to me a moment ago. She has many drawers full of different kinds of shoes. At the end of the closet is an electronic rotating coat rack where she hung up all kinds of clothes. There is also a tall mirror that hangs on the door facing the inside of the walk-in closet.

All I could think at the time when I saw all of this was, “Yep. She's a girl, alright, albeit a very rich girl.”

To the left of that walk-in closet is one corner of the room, then along that wall is a makeup station with a tall oval mirror.

As for the girls themselves, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon are both sitting on Diamond's bed. Sweetie Belle is sitting on a chair next to the left side if facing towards the foot of the bed. Sitting on the floor with one knee tucked close to her is Scootaloo who is using Diamond Tiara's bed as a backrest.

I am both irked and amused to notice that all four girls are typing or swiping away at their cellphones. Even Scootaloo is doing this despite being the poorest one of the bunch.

I can't say I'm not guilty of partaking in this activity often myself, but seeing this in front of me causes me to inwardly shake my head and think, “Kids these days.”

“So,” I say aloud, instantly winning the attention of all four girls, “I know I'm new to this 'slumber party' thing but is it really proper protocol for me to send you all a text message to get your attention?”

My comment causes Sweetie Belle to snicker.

Diamond looks at the others in a bit of surprise as if realizing, for the first time, that what they are doing is a bit ridiculous.

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Silver asks me in a snappy, snarky tone.

“Ooo! I know!” Sweetie brightens. “How about we all use your slumber party cellphone app?!”

“Excuse me?!” Silver asks Sweetie in disbelief as if convinced she misheard the girl.

“Trust me,” Diamond lifts a hand to her adjacent friend, “don't ask.” She then regards me. “I don't think we need it, but it's true that we should probably be more social with each other, I guess. If we're all going to sit in the same room together for a few hours, we might as well do what girls specialize in.”

On the floor while looking at no one, Scootaloo gives a two-finger salute as she says, “Gotcha. Resuming attention on my cellphone.”

“No, dang it! Put that thing away now!” Diamond demands. “Cozy's right. We should all talk to each other while we're together. That's proper protocol, right?”

“Talk about what?” Scootaloo challenges as she raises her tushie up a bit to put away her cellphone in her back pants pocket before sitting back down.

I wince at that. That's such a bad idea. It's why so many cellphone screens get cracked. I treat the gifts my mother gave me with way more respect.

Well . . . except for that time I chucked away my smart glasses out of fear and frustration. I'm still a bit afraid that “Dark King” fellow will appear again the next time I use my smart glasses, cellphone, or home computer.

“I don't think there is a 'proper protocol' when it comes to slumber parties,” Silver Spoon remarks offhandedly.

I cross my arms, give a snarky expression to Silver, and tell her, “Obviously you haven't met my mother yet.”

“Yes I have! Plenty of times!” Silver argues. “She's principal of our school, for crying out loud.”

I shake my head in denial at Silver. “I mean really met my mother,” I clarify.

“Huh.” Silver looks spooked. “Maybe that's for the best.”

“Oh! I know!” Scootaloo scoots away from the foot of the bed and spins about on the floor so she can see all of us. “How about we dim the lights, turn on candle lights, and tell each other spooooooooooky stories!”

“Yeah, or how about not,” Silver rejects.

“Really?” Scootaloo looks to each of us, in turn, to see if she can gather any support for her suggestion. Seeing none, she waves us off. “Bah! You gals are no fun.”

“Maybe Truth or Dare?” Sweetie brings up with an innocent shrug.

Diamond appraises me for a few seconds for some reason, then declares, “Or how about we just play, ‘The True Hour.’”

“‘True Hour?’” Scootaloo echoes questioningly with a confused wince. “What's that?”

“Not even I'm familiar with that one,” Silver admits as she looks at Diamond questioningly. “And, out of all of us here, I’ve known you the longest.”

“It's a new game,” Diamond announces. “It's really simple. We all take a pledge together that, for the next hour, we speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

Scootaloo lifts two fingers beside her head, facing upward, as she adds, “So help me God.”

“I'm being serious!” Diamond assures. “For the next hour, the only lie we can tell is silence.” She looks back at me. “I think we need to clear the air a bit of all the filthy web of lies in our life.” She looks across the others. “If we're going to get to know each other as friends, and since you all seem so determined to butt your way into my life, let's all find out how we really stand with each other.

“Sound good?”

Diamond looks across each of us one by one to see if we agree to her proposal in any way. Eventually she gets an agreement from each of us.

“Okay then.” Silver Spoon slaps her cellphone down on Diamond's bed beside her while she looks at Diamond with a very serious expression. “I'll go first.

“Diamond, why did you attempt to kill yourself?”

“Because I'm not happy,” Diamond replies immediately as if she anticipated that question. “I haven't been for a long time. In fact, I'm not really sure if I know what happiness even feels like. On the contrary, I've been quite miserable all of my life.”

I stare at her, inwardly feeling shocked.

Meanwhile I'm the only one still standing in the room, facing the others.

“I know, to many of you, it must seem like I've been born with a winning lottery ticket,” Diamond goes on, “but there is a steep price for all this wealth. It’s severe enough to make me seriously question if all of this is worth it.

“Let me ask you all something. How much wealth do you think you would accept if you knew the price for it is your ability to be happy?”

I notice that Silver Spoon is the only one who seems to know where Diamond is going with her point. Everyone else looks taken aback.

Including me.

“Maybe it depends what makes you happy?” Sweetie brought up. “I know many people say that money can't buy happiness, but I don't think it necessarily costs happiness either.”

“You'd be surprised,” Diamond warns Sweetie Belle. “In a way, you are right, but that money has to be earned somehow. The money itself is innocent, but the method to acquire it might not be.”

“What do you mean?” Scootaloo wonders. “Is your family involved in dirty business?”

“Sometimes I wonder,” Diamond admits. “Officially, no. Of course not. Nobody writes on their resume, 'I am a street hustler'. If there is dirty money cycling around here, then I'm unaware of it, although it wouldn't surprise me too much if I found out we owed a mob boss some favors somewhere down our family line.

“Power corrupts, and great wealth can attract the worst sort of people. I've had to grow up with that possibility all my life.

“None of you, except for Silver Spoon, know how empty it feels to live our lives knowing that ninety percent of people we meet are being disingenuous to us. Instead, they'll tell us whatever they think we want to hear so they can take advantage of us and our money. Very few are really trying to be a true friend. Instead, we constantly have to guard ourselves from abuse.

“So I ask again . . . how much wealth would you charge in exchange for your ability to be happy in life?

“I remind you, this is ‘The True Hour’ game. You must tell the whole truth here if you speak for the next hour.”

Scootaloo sighs, then says, “Since you put it that way, there isn't any degree of a price I'd give up for my ability to be happy because, if I made that devil's bargain, it would be impossible to enjoy what I've gained so it just isn't worth it.”

“What about someone who is always miserable anyway?” Sweetie Belle wonders aloud. “If they had money, at least they could afford security and good food and lots of other stuff.”

“That might be different,” Scootaloo admits, “but I'm not that bad off.”

Scootaloo looks down in depression as she sadly admits, “I've suffered through a lot of shit in my life, and I do mean a lot of shit. More than I think I truly deserve.”

Scootaloo pulls both of her knees close to her chest, then admits, “I guess the part of my life that bothers me the most is the fact that my parents died.”

I could feel a heavy weight descend upon the room. Nobody dares to poke fun at an issue that serious, although I calculate high odds that Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon used to, or would have, earlier in their youth.

“They lived a dangerous career,” Scootaloo goes on, “but they handled it very professionally. My parents roamed out in the wilds to track elusive wild animals in order to study them. They were very good at their job, too. I'm talking about creatures that can rip your arms off as if they were made of chewing gum, but they knew how to handle them.”

“Then how did they die?” Silver Spoon asks in a spooked tone.

Scootaloo rests her chin on her knees. Tears start to rise to her eyes as she says, “It's stupid. From what I've been told, they suffered only a few scratches and injuries while they chased the wild animals. That in itself was fine, but it turns out they were far less prepared for much tinier life forms. It was a disease that ultimately killed them both. Several of the camera crews caught the same sickness too, from what I heard, although some of them made it in the end.”

We look down sadly.

Scootaloo turns her face into her knees. When next she speaks, she sounds a bit muffled because her mouth is so close to her knees.

“For years, I didn't believe it! I couldn't believe it! I was just a kid. Nobody that age wants to hear about the fact that their parents are never coming home. That our entire world died.

“I tried so hard to deny it! I dreamed about them, and I frequently saw them out of the corner of my eye or thought I heard them in a crowd. Even without evidence of any kind, I continued to look up at the stars and talk to them, convinced they were looking up at the same stars that I was.

“I grew angry and resentful at anyone that accused me of losing my parents. Some teased me about this deliberately, and others tried to tell me kindly. I ignored the latter, and I downright attacked the former. I'd leap upon them and hit them over and over again as I shouted at them, 'You take that BACK! You take that BACK, damn it! You don't know ANYTHING! My parents aren't dead! You'll see! You'll all see! They're coming for me! I just have to be patient.'”

Nobody else says a word in the room.

Certainly I, of all people in this room, know what it feels like to be lost in the adoption system.

I honestly don't know what's worse. Parents who want to stay but are forced to leave by death, or parents who are alive and leave by choice.

I guess I, at least, have a little bit of hope of seeing my birth parents again. All they'd have to do is change their minds. I've been working very, very hard to earn that possibility.

“But . . .” Scootaloo resumes in a whimper, “ . . . I was being an immature fool. Even though I knew that people could die, some part of me was desperately trying to convince myself that my parents were somehow immortal. That there is no possible way they could abandon me like this.

“But they did, and I was being a fool.”

Sweetie Belle crawls off her seat, scoots next to her friend and hugs Scootaloo to her side.

A few minutes pass in silence before finally being broken by Scootaloo herself.

“So,” she sniffs and wipes her tears away from her face. She oddly wears a smug and daring smile all of a sudden. “How's that for a truth bomb! Beat that, y'all!”

I look around at the others, then look back at Scootaloo as I admit, “Yeah, that's going to be a pretty tough one to beat.”

“Did you have any good memories with your parents?” Silver Spoon asks Scootaloo, which takes Scootaloo aback.

“What are you talking about? Of course I did! I especially loved our camping trips. It was the bomb!”

“Then you have that, at least,” Silver Spoon consoled. “Not all of us are that lucky.”

“Seriously?!” Scootaloo asks Silver skeptically.

Silver Spoon gazes forward into empty air as she says, “Let me tell you another story. A story about my life. Don't bother with the popcorn, though, it isn't too exciting or cheerful. It's exactly the opposite. My life is boring and depressing.

“In my home, it's all business. It's cold and sterile. We pass our time with empty small talk, if that. Nobody really cares or loves each other. We're really just strangers who know each other's names, live under the same roof, and are related by blood.

“In my life, I'm forced to be independent. Not in a practical sense, mind you. I've had servants weighing on me hand and foot all of my life, but they hardly say a word to me in any personal way.

“One maid tried once, but I heard she got scolded for it later.

“What I mean by 'independent' is in an emotional sense. Where I come from, we are all alone, even if we are in the company of other family members. I look around at our long rectangular table and I see people just eating quietly or mechanically reading the newspaper.

“They are just there. They feel as empty as shadows. They might as well be robots.

“I was only seven years old when I first realized that, in an emotional sense, I was the only one sitting at the table. I was truly alone.”

“Did you get along with anyone in your family?” Sweetie Belle asks Silver with anxious hope in her voice.

Silver looks cornerwise up as she thinks back on it, then answers, “My cousin, Sapphire Shine. She used to be kind to me.”

“Used to be?” Sweetie checks.

Silver looks at Sweetie as she says, “She's not dead, if that's what you are asking. It's just that I've not seen her in a very long time. We still write to each other on occasion, but it's been thinning over the years.”

Silver sighs as she shrugs. “We were just dumb little kids when we first met. I think she was five and I was seven. Maybe eight. We played together by doing simple things like, 'Hide and Seek'. With her, I discovered joy for the first time. It was just simple . . . innocent pleasure.

“In a way, however, I later wished I hadn't because that sensation was so rare in my life. It caused me to long for something that I rarely attained. If I had never known about it, I wouldn't miss what I was unaware existed in the first place.”

“That's so sad!” Sweetie moans. “But . . . at least you had Diamond as a friend, right?”

“That's true,” Silver agrees a little cheerfully as she looks at her best friend. “Diamond and I shared something in common. We both understood the burdens of a supposed life of 'privilege’. We both knew that many below our station envied us while simultaneously unaware of the emptiness that is our lives.

“When a warm light is found in so few places, the few places we do find it feel profound.”

“But that 'friendship' wasn't enough to cause you to want to live, Tiara?” I check as I gaze accusingly at Diamond.

Despite everything I've learned about these two tonight, I still can't help but loathe Diamond's guts.

“As I have said, there is a price for power that goes well beyond the sake of mere money,” Diamond put in. “It comes with a family that is not so forgiving of flaws. My family has very high standards of living in every possible way. They tell me to maintain those standards at all times, regardless of how I feel.

“I've been told my whole life what to do and what to say. Nobody else has shown me that there might be some better way. Instead, all I'm told is to swallow my feelings and shape up, even if a part of me longs for something much better.”

Diamond lifts up and gazes at her hands silently for a few seconds before saying, “If I am a diamond, then why do I feel as fragile as glass? Worse, glass that already has cracks in it.

“There is something jagged in me. I've felt that my whole life but, the more I realized that on a conscious level, the more I also realize that I'm trapped in this fate. Only death seems to offer any hope of escape.”

Diamond crosses her arms as she gives me a hard look.

“My mother pressured me hard to maintain my seat as Student Council President, but you went ahead and ripped that from me.”

I fight hard to resist gloating in victory. That was such a glorious day for me. Partly because of the power I won, and partly because I knew it hurt Diamond.

“You weren't the first to try,” Diamond went on, “but you were the first to give me a challenge. Every other attempt against my authority was pitiful, especially since I had so much money at my disposal to help me with my campaign.

“But you . . . you were something different. Something special. Almost otherworldly, much like your magical mother. I even suspected you cheated at times.”

Bingo! I did, in fact, cheat in many subtle ways!

Diamond Tiara narrows her eyes at me as she says, “At first I hated you! I despised you! How dare this little cutesy-wootsy, lowborn upstart challenge my authority!? At first I thought it was funny, but then I saw how you won over the crowd.

“And, although I didn't want to admit it at the time, you have a kind of intelligence and charisma that cowed even me.

“When you stood up on that podium, you commanded the crowd! You dominated the scene. It was like you were born for this. Even with your somewhat immature speech pattern, there was something about you that demanded attention. Nobody could ignore you. Not even me.”

I inwardly smile as I think back to the Dazzlings’ music.

“You didn't know that you fell

Now that you're under our spell.”

That's politics one-oh-one, Little Miss Prissy! I beat you because I am your superior! Get used to it!

. . .

On second thought, I'd rather watch you squirm!

“Every question thrown at you was countered by a glib, witty retort. I can't blame that on prepared speeches on a hidden cue card. Those comments came from you, spur of the moment. You skillfully molded the crowd like a conductor in a symphony.

“I was warned that you were a certified genius, and in fact one of an unusually high caliber. Almost inhumanly high, but I didn't really think that could threaten me until you stood in front of that podium. So strong was your presence that you almost convinced me to vote for you!”

Diamond looks down in depression.

“It was about halfway through the campaign that I started to realize that I was doomed.

“Nevertheless, I kept at it. My pride would not allow me to quit. I thought I cornered you by targeting the most popular kids in school, and I did win most of them on my side, or so I thought. I figured that if I could get them on my side, then I'd also win the votes of everyone who looked up to them. It was a celebrity status campaign strategy.

“Meanwhile, you went for the computer nerds and hippy club and all the losers of the school. I grinned in smug pride, my confidence starting to return to me until the very end . . . when I heard the announcement of the votes over the school intercom.”

“The unpopular vastly outnumber the popular,” I inform Diamond. “It's simple numbers.

“Besides, some of those clubs had other ways to advance my strategy. Ignoring those 'computer nerds', as you so eloquently put it, cost you the running. With them on my side, they could spread e-mails to everyone on campus to post threads on web pages that people actually read.” I give a tsk-tsk wiggle of my fingers at Diamond. “Welcome to the information age, Diamond Tiara. Get with the program or be left in the dust!”

Diamond looks down sadly. “Yeah. You certainly showed me a thing or two. Losing to you was the most humiliating experience of my life.

“But my torture didn't end there. It had only just begun.

“My mother was FURIOUS at me for losing to you. She yelled at me for hours about how much money and resources she spent on trying to guarantee my election only to have all of it wasted. She even called me a miserable waste of resources!”

Sweetie Belle gasps, then exclaims, “That's terrible! This is your mother? She brought you into this world!”

“And nobody has made me more determined to leave it than her!” Diamond cries out emotionally. I visibly notice her shaking, so I can tell she's telling the truth.

Either that, or she's a better actress than I gave her credit for.

“Are you sure?” Scootaloo asks skeptically. “Remember, we're still in ‘The Truth Hour’. You have to be honest now.”

“I AM TELLING YOU THE TRUTH!” Diamond screeches. “Why won't you believe me? Do you honestly think I'd consider suicide just because there is a tiny little pea in my mattress?

“And just in case you're enough of an idiot to buy that story, let me assure you that there isn't such a thing in my mattress. I know. I have the maids check and clean it every day.

“Besides, that's not enough. Tiny little inconveniences are not enough. Truly facing the prospect of killing one's self is extremely scary, so the motivation to overcome that fear has to be even more extreme.

“I dare you to put a knife to your own throat with the serious intent to use it. Then you'll see how much it feels like a big deal.

“I don't know what's going to happen to me if I die! Will I move on, or will I just disappear?

“No matter what you might believe about the afterlife, are you certain enough to leap off a cliff without any hesitation?

“You just try it for yourself! It's fucking scary!”

I notice Silver Spoon wince because she is unaccustomed to hearing Diamond cuss like that. I surmise that it's against high social standing. For Diamond to use such words anyway serves to put more weight into the emotions that inspired her to say it.

Nevertheless, this does not feel real to me.

I know for a fact that, theoretically, if there are two people in front of me and one of them always tells the truth and another always tells a lie, they both have one thing in common. They both will always claim that they are telling the truth.

Diamond's little “True Hour” ploy is just a mask. She has no serious intention to reveal any real weakness in herself.

She's not as good of a strategist as me, but I have to give her that much credit at least.

“So . . . there you have it,” Diamond informs me in a defeated, empty voice. “That's what happened to me. That's the whole truth. My mind turned to suicide shortly after my humiliating defeat, losing the Student Council President seat, but further compounded by my mother's abuses.”

She looks back up at me.

“So, when you offered me a position as Secretary of Treasury, I was surprised. I thought you'd gloat in your victory but, instead, you reached your hand down to help pick me up out of the metaphorical mud.

“You don't know this, but . . . you inadvertently saved my life on that day.

“I almost did it. I almost made the lethal cut on my wrist at the time, but then you made an unexpected move. I grew curious where this was going, so I accepted with a feeling of suspicious caution.

“Besides, you had a valid argument for me. As a member of the Rich family, I certainly know how to handle money. Maybe not as much as my parents, but certainly more than most others at Canterlot High.

“As usual, your persuasive skills ran circles around me, leaving my head spinning. I couldn't help but admire you for that, even if part of me still hated you at the same time.

“I figured that, if I couldn't beat you, I'd join you. Maybe, that way, I could at least learn from you. I wanted to figure out how you did it, and prayed to God that was not merely a matter of pure, innate talent. I wanted to see a strategy I could learn. Something I could adapt to. Something that could, in theory, become a part of me. I wanted to be better than I was before.

“In short, I was hunting for a reason to live.”

“And it worked, right?” Sweetie asks Diamond, but then grew confused. “But, in that case, why did I see you cutting yourself when I barged in on you?”

Diamond sighs as she looks down. “Because I eventually concluded that it really was mostly innate talent. I can't force myself to suddenly become a super genius. Nobody can. Cozy Glow simply has something I lack, and I realized it is something I could never obtain. If I continued to live, I realized I could only exist in her shadow at best.”

Best get used to it. The Shadow Queen casts a very long and deep shadow!

You're not the only one to drown in it.

Just the way I like it!

Silver Spoon frowns at her friend, then looks at me as she attempts to change the subject, “Well then, how about you, little Miss Perfect! What embarrassing secrets can you tell us that can rival what we've said tonight?”

“Me?” I check.

Silver Spoon nods. “It's only fair. Coming here and barging into her life was your idea. I’m not complaining, mind you, since I know that your intention is to prevent her from hurting herself, but you stuck your neck out to be here so fair is fair. Also, you were the one who interrupted our time spent on our cellphones so you owe us for this.”

I grin at her. “Well, for one thing, I'm cunning enough not to reveal anything too personal that might be used against me later on.”

“Come on, now! That's cheating!” Silver Spoon complains as she crosses her arms. “If you want to be part of our little club, you've got to spill the beans. To gather our trust, you have to share something with us that you wouldn't tell anybody else.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Why should I?” Then I lift both hands as I prepare to make a proposal. “Okay. Since we're under ‘The True Hour’ here, will everyone swear to me now that whatever confessions we make between us will stay confidential?”

Sweetie widens her eyes, stunned at a sudden epiphany.

“You know what, girls?” Sweetie began. “It shouldn't have taken a super genius to have thought of that. Why hadn’t we sworn to protect our secrecy earlier? That should have been the first thing we did before we started pouring our hearts out.”

Silver Spoon shrugs as she says, “I assumed it was implied.”

“Oh, that is ironclad!” I sarcastically remark. “If this issue makes it to court, we'll just tell the judge that we assumed we'd keep each other's secrets.”

“What do you want from us?” Scootaloo asks me. “For us to sign a contract in blood?”

“Yes please,” I'm tempted to say, but instead I shake my head and say instead, “No. I just want the word of you all. If you say it during ‘The True Hour’, you have to mean it. This is as solid as a Pinkie Promise!”

“Ooo!” Scootaloo gasps. “None of you want to break a Pinkie Promise! Trust me! If you do, Pinkie will haunt you in ways you'd never think is possible! Breaking a Pinkie Promise is akin to evoking a curse upon yourself. All of a sudden she pops up inside potted plants, off the corner of your eye, or even inside mirrors!” Scootaloo shudders. “One time, while I was sleeping, I heard her haunting voice whisper to me out in the shadows, 'Foreveeeeeeverrrrrr!’

“For a very brief moment, I thought I saw her eyes gleam in the dark.

“Suffice to say, I could not sleep for the rest of that night!”

I notice how the girls are spooked enough not to speak again for at least ten seconds.

The silence is broken by Silver Spoon first. I guess she is the bravest at this moment.

“Well, like I said, I assumed the promise was implied, so I'm not bothered by making it more official.”

Silver Spoon lifts a hand. “I, Silver Spoon, hereby swear that all relevant information shared by anyone in this room during ‘The True Hour’ shall remain in confidence, pending further permission to spread it by the party who originally shared the information.”

“What are you, a dictionary?” Scootaloo accuses with a right eye squint at Silver Spoon, then declares. “Let me show you how simple it could have been.” She lifts a right hand up to the level of her shoulder, bending it at the elbow to do so. “I, Scootaloo, swear that I won't share any information told to me during ‘The True Hour.’” She lowers her hand. “See? Simple and effective.”

“I second that!” Sweetie pops in.

Silver shook her head. “You have to say it, otherwise you're not swearing anything.”

Sweetie huffs. “Fine!”

She lifts her right hand. “I swear I won't share any information we say during ‘The True Hour.’”

Without hesitation, Diamond lifted up her right hand as soon as Sweetie Belle finished her declaration. Diamond says one of her own, and I copy her a moment later.

“Alright then, the pact is made,” I say ominously as I lower my hand. “I know what I'm about to tell you may not seem to have as much weight compared to what you've all confessed to me, but rest assured that it's a big deal to me.

“For you see . . . there is something that I like in this world that I wouldn't normally admit to anyone.”

I'm hoping they take the bait, and they do in seconds. They press me for details since they could already smell that juicy steak of an embarrassing truth.

And it is the truth. It's just not an incriminating truth.

Just because I have to be honest, doesn't make me suddenly stupid.

I press my two pointing fingers at each other while wearing a nervous expression. For the most part, I'm not faking. I am concerned about their reaction because it reveals something about me that almost nobody would expect.

“I like . . .” I began, pause, take a deep breath, exhale, then resume, “. . . ninjas.”

Silver Spoon immediately narrows her eyes at me as she says, “That's your big secret?”

“Well of course you like ninjas!” Scootaloo exclaims. “Why wouldn't you? Ninjas are awesome!”

“True, but would anyone expect that from me?” I challenge the group while placing a finger to my lips as I give a cutesy blush.

“Um,” Diamond looks across the others as she says, “she does have a point. That isn't something I'd expect from little Miss High IQ.”

“How about an elaboration?” Sweetie probed. “Why do you like ninjas? And don't just wave it off as 'they are awesome'. Explain why they are awesome.”

Part of me gives a fond smile across the gathered group of girls as I realize that my declaration considerably lightened the mood of the moment. They are on the edge of their seats to learn something exciting rather than just depressing.

I really am a genius!

“I'm tempted to ask you all, 'What's not to love about ninjas'? But, since you asked me to elaborate, I suppose I'd have to say I like their mystique. They elevate skill to the point that it's almost magical, and I especially appreciate the fact that they use stealth and subterfuge to achieve their agendas. I see them as clever masterminds who pull the strings from the shadows.

“Unlike a common rogue, however, they also have a solid sense of honor. They truly believe in whatever cause they throw themselves into, and they execute their missions with skillful precision.

“To me, that's something I admire about them.

“They are, without a doubt, my second favorite type of class to play in MMO's. The first being a caster.” I add the second statement quickly because I could already see the question rising in several of my listeners, but I cut them off at the pass.

“Um,” Diamond shrugs, then starts clapping. The others shortly join her, then she adds, “Fair enough.”

Next Chapter: Chapter Twenty Eight: Slumber Party, Part 5, Breaking Point Estimated time remaining: 8 Hours, 57 Minutes