“Whoa, Diamond Tiara, your new cutie mark is amazing,” admired Sunny Days.

“Isn’t it?” the pinkish filly quickly acknowledged, soaking up the compliments from the circle of admirers that had gathered around her. She stuck her hind leg out slightly so the silver tiara emblazoned on her flank sparkled in the brilliant afternoon sun. “I mean, I always knew that my cutie mark would be ten times as amazing as everypony else’s, but I have to say it turned out even better than I expected.” She stood tall and straight with her head held high; her vaunted cutie mark had intensified her apparent belief that she was vastly superior to the other fillies in town. Most of the other ponies in her class had already earned their cutie marks; Yesterday, Diamond Tiara had been one of the last half dozen or so “blank flanks” still left in her generation. Today, she was at the top of the herd, showboating her silvery tiara and just waiting for the wanton admiration to come flying in at her from all sides.

“I wish my cutie mark was as awesome as yours,” remarked Coronet. Most of the other fillies threw dissatisfied glances toward their own flanks, which seemed so apologetically boring by comparison. Tiara’s smug grin grew wider. She’d waited a very long time for this day, the day when she could simply strike a pose that emphasized her flank and turn all the fillies with less-impressive cutie marks green with envy.

“It certainly feels good being special,” Diamond stated. “Wouldn’t you agree, Silver Spoon?”

“Definitely,” the grey filly agreed, suddenly appearing at Diamond’s side. “I can’t imagine how terrible it must feel to still be...un-special.”

The past several days had been awkward; Silver Spoon, traditionally the subordinate of the two, had earned her cutie mark before Diamond Tiara, conventionally the assertive and dominating leader. That caught the both of them in an awkward bind, as Silver Spoon could not draw any well-deserved attention to herself without also pointing out that Diamond remained an un-special blank flank. Now that Diamond had finally caught up, they could stand together in the spotlight and soak up all the attention they wanted.

“My cute-ceañera isn’t until next weekend,” Diamond explained, “That’s the first date I could get open. It’s going to be a great party with food and music and dancing, all in celebration of me and my wonderful new cutie mark! Of course all of you are invited.”

Diamond Tiara went on to gloat about the extravagant details of the party for a few more minutes, until the school bell rang and signaled the end of midday recess. At once, the crowd broke and dispersed in the direction of the schoolhouse doors, some students rushing eagerly back inside while others dragged their hooves with despair as the trudged along. Diamond and Silver chose a dignified walking pace, carrying themselves with the same aristocratic poise they maintained whenever they were in the public eye. From somewhere behind them, a white unicorn filly with a curly, pink and purple mane trotted briskly up beside them. Her pale green eyes alighted on the sparkling tiara that swayed and bobbed with the motion of Diamond’s hind legs, and her whole face lit up with excitement.

“Oh, hey there, Diamond Tiara!” she called out loudly, “I see you finally got your cutie mark. And it’s a tiara! It sure is shiny.” Diamond’s eyes hardened, and she glanced furtively around the yard, now hoping to avoid the attention of the other fillies. The irony of this was lost on her; Diamond Tiara had to be rid of the unicorn before she drew attention to the conversation.

“What do you want, blank flank?” Silver Spoon asked mockingly, trying to shake her off before they got back into the school. Most of the others were already inside (they, of course, were much too civilized for such foalish behavior), and the two most popular fillies in school could not be seen waltzing into class with a yappy white unicorn following them at their heels.

It wasn’t Sweetie’s fault her speaking voice was loud and friendly; that was just the way she talked. “I just wanted to congratulate Diamond Tiara,” Sweetie answered, sheepishly folding her ears back for a few brief seconds before disregarding the mean-spirited comment entirely. “I bet you thought you were gonna be the last blank flank in school, huh? There sure aren’t many fillies left without cutie marks. I sure hope I get mine soon. I don’t want to be the last one left without it.”

“Look,” Diamond snapped coldly, stopping in her tracks. Sweetie didn’t notice right away and kept walking another few steps, then stopped and wheeled around with a puzzled expression on her face. “If you’re want to come to my party, then that’s, like, fine,” Diamond continued. “Everypony else will be there. Just as long as you don’t mind being the only blank flank there. I’m sure that won’t be embarrassing at all.”

With that, the two fillies turned their mark-bearing flanks and walked back into class, snickering at their actions. Sweetie Belle hung her head low and trudged back to the classroom behind them, her hooves heavy with the sting of their caustic remarks.

“Rarity?” Sweetie Belle called out into the vacant showroom of the Carousel Boutique. The sign out front read “Closed,” the lights in the showroom were all dark, and the sound of the bell ringing as the young filly pushed open the door was met with no reply. “Sis? Are you home?” This was odd. It was a bright and sunny day outside, perfect weather to be shopping. By closing down the store, Rarity was missing out on countless potential sales. Sweetie didn’t fully understand business the way her big sister did, but even she could recognize the folly in closing the boutique on a day like today, especially when Rarity had been complaining quite a bit lately (at least more than usual) about how the Ponyville custom of disregarding clothing most of the time was threatening to put the Carousel out of business unless she could increase her sales figures. Surely there had to be a serious reason for her absence.

“Rarity?” Sweetie called again. “Where are you?”

“Up here, Sweetie Belle!” Rarity’s muffled voice responded from upstairs. She had shut herself in the workshop?

Sweetie climbed the stairs to the boutique’s second floor, pushing open the door. Immediately she saw Rarity hard at work – she squinted through the lenses of her red-framed glasses at the fabric she was feeding into the maw of her sewing machine. A measuring tape hung around her withers, and several bolts of fabric that were obviously intended to go into the same garment lay scattered around the room.

“What are you making?” Sweetie inquired with genuine interest; she greatly admired Rarity’s skill with the fabric, and actually aspired to become a designer herself one day. Her little horn illuminated with magical energy, levitating her school saddlebags off her back and setting them down gently beside the door.

“A commission,” Rarity started. “Four completely original dress designs, all entirely unique yet sharing a common theme, for a wealthy Manehattanite customer. She’s heard of me secondhand through a regular customer of mine, so it’s even more important that I make these designs every bit as glamorous as she expects. I have a reputation to uphold!”

“It looks good so far,” Sweetie complimented, though the seemingly random scraps of fabric hanging haphazardly from her dress form mannequins were hardly inspiring.

Rarity shrugged, finishing the stitching and pulling the fabric out from the machine. “It’s a work in progress,” she said, levitating the fabric over to the nearest mannequin and draping it over its back. She played at it, ruffling the edges of the dress here and there, trying to get it to lay right.

Sweetie Belle glanced around the workshop. “Can I help?”

“No!” Rarity snapped instinctively before she could think of softer words to use instead. “I mean…this order requires that each dress be made with supreme precision and style. Anything less than my best is simply unacceptable. This isn’t the project to use as a training exercise, Sweetie Belle. I’m sorry, but it’s best if you leave me alone to my work.”

Sweetie was hurt by her sister’s rejection, but it wasn’t the first time she’d been turned away. In fact, she’d been turned away the last five times she offered her help. Apart from the most basic elements of cutting, sewing, and designing, Rarity hadn’t taught her anything about the art of dressmaking to date. It was beginning to seem as though she wouldn’t even include her younger sister in any of her projects.

“I’m…I’m dreadfully sorry,” Rarity apologized, noticing the hurt in Sweetie’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. That was very rude of me and I apologize. Please, tell me about your day. How was school?”

She was trying to be considerate; Rarity was not intentionally dismissive, but rather her work simply overwhelmed her whenever a big order like this came in. Still, Sweetie had been hurt earlier by somepony she once considered a friend, and Rarity’s dramatic perfectionism had only made her feel worse.

“It was okay,” Sweetie answered, recalling the hurtful words of the popular fillies. “Diamond Tiara got her cutie mark yesterday and was showing it off at recess today.”

“That’s good for her, then. Earning one’s cutie mark is a very significant event in a young filly’s life.” The fabric wasn’t laying itself into the natural-looking folds and ruffles she had sketched in her rough designs, so another burst of levitation magic cast the stubborn thing upward again in a glowing blue aura. Rarity set the piece back down on the workbench, her horn then summoning a needle and thread from its far end. She’d have to stitch the garment into the ruffled shape she was going for, it seemed; gravity alone wasn’t doing the job properly.

“I know,” Sweetie half-agreed, genuinely feeling happiness for the other fillies who had already found out what they were meant to do in life, Diamond Tiara included. “Her cute-ceañera is next weekend at Sugarcube Corner. She says Pinkie Pie is organizing the whole thing, and there’s going to be cake and ice cream and candy and music and dancing and even fun party games like pin the tail on the pony.”

“That sounds magnificent,” Rarity said flatly, a striking contrast to the emphatic, over-dramatized response Sweetie Belle was expecting.

“It sure does, but her and Silver Spoon were making fun of me all afternoon because I still haven’t found my special talent yet. She called me a blank flank and said if I went to her party it’d be the most embarrassing thing ever. I don’t think I should go if I’m the only blank flank there–all the other fillies are just going to make fun of me! But it’s still a Pinkie Pie party, and those are always the best parties around. I don’t know what to do. What do you think?”

“I’m sure you’ll have fun,” said Rarity. Satisfied with the way the ruffles now looked on her bench, she levitated the cloth and draped it back on the dress form to make sure the alterations looked right.

“So you’re saying I should go to the party?” Sweetie Belle tried to figure out what Rarity had meant by that out-of-context response.

“Hmm?” Rarity looked up from the dress form, her blue eyes squinting in confusion behind the stylish glasses. It was painfully obvious just how much she had been paying attention to what Sweetie was saying. Sweetie Belle’s heart sank and she stared at the floor. She had been rejected once again. Rarity’s concern had all been and act; she didn’t really care at all.

“Never mind…” she gave up. Rarity said nothing in protest as her sister levitated her saddlebags back onto herself and turned for the door. “I’ll just go get started on my homework.”

“Wait!” Rarity called after her once the curly pink and purple tail vanished out into the hallway. “I’m so terribly sorry, Sweetie Belle, I’m just so busy right now with these designs! We’ll talk about it later when I have some time to myself to think, okay? I promise you we will.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Sweetie Belle muttered to herself, too softly for Rarity to hear her. As she made her way into the guest bedroom across the hall, her eyes filled up with tears.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3 Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 6 Minutes