by K. M. Hayes
“Fine, man.” He tossed the pony ears on the ground, snarling at me. “Who knew Coach Morris’s son had a thing for freaks?”
Heat crept up my neck. Not that I liked Skye like that, but I suddenly worried they’d start a rumor out of revenge. Yet my mouth had a mind of its own today. “I don’t have a thing for freaks—I have a thing for treating people nicely. You’re the one who wants to go to the dance with her, but you sure have a weird way of asking. Might wanna try flowers and a ‘please’ next time.”
He swore at me. “Whatever.”
In a weird turn of events, he and his buddies walked away. I thought for sure I would be beaten. I always had before when I said the wrong thing at my old school. I breathed a sigh of relief, the reality of what I had done only beginning to sink in.
I had stood up for Skye.
People would definitely find out.
I would get a lot of flak for that, flak I’d enjoyed not having since I got here.
Skye picked up her ears and dusted them off. As she placed them back on her head, she stared me down like I was some strange creature. She said nothing, but it seemed like she wanted to speak.
I ended up breaking the silence first. “Are you okay?”
She narrowed her eyes more. “What do you think?”
“I think . . .” I knew what it was like to be surrounded by people stronger than you who wanted to hurt you. I had a feeling it was even more terrifying for a girl. “You’re not as okay as you try to look.”
She looked away, but I still caught her tearing up. “Why did you do that? Nobody tries to help me. Nobody cares if crap like that happens to me.”
This was the perfect moment to tell her. I could say I knew what it was like to be bullied so badly you wanted to give up on life. I could say I knew why she loved MLP so much since I watched it, too, and it made me feel better than I had in years. But I couldn’t do it. “It was the right thing to do.”
“The right thing?” She laughed coldly. “Then why didn’t you do ‘the right thing’ earlier?”
I looked down, ashamed. “I don’t know.”
“I do. No one was watching. That’s the difference.”
How I wished there weren’t truth to that. But that wasn’t the only thing. “Do I look like the kind of guy who can stand up to people without getting beat down myself?”
“I guess not.” She walked away, leaving me alone in the hall with my drawings. A twinge of regret came, but I shook it off.
I couldn’t share my secret with her. Not even another pony lover was safe. Because if she knew, she’d want to talk to me. As much as I wanted that, I wanted to stay un-bullied more.
Chapter 15
EMMA HAD STOPPED her confession-like thing after we’d been hanging out in the library for awhile. It might have been because she was on the last book in the fantasy series, and her eyes moved over the text so intensely I was afraid to even interrupt her.
I kind of wanted to ask about something. I mean, she had a secret she’d kept for a long time. Maybe she had advice I could use.
Because the longer I watched MLP, the harder it became to keep it to myself. I was halfway through watching the entire thing for the second time, and it was becoming part of how I viewed the world. I constantly had to keep myself from referencing it. And now I’d posted almost two dozen drawings on Tumblr. To my surprise, I had forty followers and some people even requested that I draw specific characters.
“Emma?” I said.
She glared at me. “What? This is a really good part so you better not be asking me some stupid homework question.”
I smirked. It was funny how intense she was. “Would it really be so bad if your parents found out about your secret?”
Her glare turned to terror. “Did you tell them? Did someone else find out?”
“No!” I laughed even though I felt guilty because I would be just as freaked out if someone knew about my MLP obsession. “It’s hypothetical. I swear. It’s just . . . I don’t know, it seems dumb to freak out over you liking books. Or freaking out over, say, someone liking a TV show.”
She frowned. “You think it’s dumb I’m not friends with Skye just because of that show, don’t you?”
That was not what I had intended, but I guess it was better than her suspecting I was talking about myself. “I just don’t get it is all.”
She bit her lip, looking down at her book. “Honestly, I don’t either, okay? I guess that’s why I read this stuff anyway. Yeah, it’s stupid that I’m not friends with Skye because of a TV show, but my parents told me I couldn’t play with her anymore and I was a kid who had to listen. Now . . . I’m less of a kid and I listen less, but the damage with Skye is already done.”
“And you really can’t tell them?” I asked, wanting her to have courage and hoping it would rub off on me.
She shook her head. “If I did, I’d have to leave this school and go to an all-girls religious academy. I know I’m not some hugely popular girl or something, but I have friends here. I like this school and I like how things are. I don’t want to lose that over one small secret.”
Her words assuaged my own guilt about what Skye had said to me earlier. I didn’t want to lose what I had either. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was the best I had had for a long time. But still, one thing niggled at my brain. “Isn’t it hard to hide something that’s such a big part of you, though?”
Emma went still, her dark eyes locked on mine. “You should be a writer.”
“What?” I tilted my head. “Are you trying to dodge the question or something?”
“No, you just think about stuff. Like, a lot.” She pointed to her book. “Writers think like you, asking questions and digging into characters to figure them out. That’s how they make stories.”
“How would you know?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I have more than one secret.”
“Do you now? Are you a writer?” I had a feeling she was, and it excited me.
“I’m not telling.” Her smile said everything. “But to answer your question: yeah, it was hard to keep it secret. It was getting downright unbearable to the point I thought I’d break. And then . . .” She looked away, her cheeks turning slightly pink.
“And then what?” I urged.
“Well, you caught me. And you knew. And I had someone to talk to about it for the first time ever. That made it so much easier to bear. You’ve . . . you’ve been a really good friend, Drew.”
“Oh . . .” Now I blushed, too. She had called me a friend. Maybe only after school, but I would take it. I had a friend here who wasn’t Quincy. Plus, she was a girl.
“I’m sorry I don’t say hi in class and stuff.” She played with her hair. “It’s just that my parents would freak out if they knew I was friends with a boy. I’m not allowed to date until I’m sixteen, and I think they believe even being friends is like dating or something.”
“I see.” I fiddled with my pencil nervously. This was not the direction I expected this conversation to go. Not that I thought I had a chance with Emma, but it was weird even to talk about dating with a girl. “Don’t worry about it too much.”
But she looked worried. “I guess I’m one big secret of a person, aren’t I?”
“A little bit,” I admitted. Except to me, which is weird.
She laughed. “Okay, now be quiet so I can finish this chapter before I have to go.”
I focused on my homework, but I kept looking over at Emma as she read. She was pretty and kind, and for the most part, I felt like I could be myself around her. I wanted her to be my secret keeper, too. She knew about the football stuff I had never told anyone but Quincy.
But I couldn’t tell her about MLP. She’d probably stop talking to me since I liked the same thing her ex-best friend did. And I didn’t want her to stop talking to me.
I had to find someone though. Emma said it made it easier to have one person know your secrets, and I needed it to be easier before I slipped up.
Cha
pter 16
I GOT HOME late every day, thanks to Dad’s football schedule. With practices now going more than an hour and away games once a week, sometimes we didn’t get in until way after dinner. It sucked, being stuck at school so long. We were almost home when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
It was Quincy. You coming over?
Still not home, I typed back.
Srsly?
Yup.
That sucks. Never gonna see you again.
I hadn’t seen Quincy in about four days, which was a record. Even though he was focused on games, we still hung out often. But now that the football season was in full swing, I had no idea how long I’d be at Yearling High School each day. I’m a prisoner to my dad’s schedule.
You need a car. And a license.
I wish. Dad pulled into the driveway, stopped the truck, and got out without even looking my way. I followed, still typing. Just got home.
You coming over?
Not sure. I’m starving. My stomach grumbled on cue. Might be too late by the time I eat.
True. See ya, man.
Yeah. The house smelled like something savory and salty, and I made a beeline for the kitchen. Hopefully something was still left from dinner. Mom and Holly were in the living room, and I barely processed Mom’s greeting as I made it to the fridge.
“The blue container!” Mom called.
I grabbed it, threw it in the microwave, and waited the torturous few minutes for the food to heat up. In that time, I recognized the sound of MLP coming from the TV. I listened to the dialogue to see if I could pick out the episode. All the voices were the same, but I heard a word never used in MLP—“everybody.” It was always “everypony.”
The microwave dinged, and I pulled out my food. I was dying to go in there to see what Holly was watching, but I didn’t want Mom pointing out that I never hung out with them and why was I now?
“Honey!” Dad bellowed over the show.
“Coming!” Mom’s footsteps went upstairs, and a minute later she appeared in the kitchen. Her smile screamed, “I need to ask you a favor.”
“Hey, Drew, you going to Quincy’s after you eat?”
“Maybe, why?”
“Your father . . .” She sighed, frustrated. “He needs to get out and I’m not about to let him go alone. He’s just real hung up on the Homecoming game—can’t lose, you know?”
I connected the dots. “So you want me to watch Holly?”
She nodded. “I know you hate it, but it won’t be for—”
“It’s fine,” I said, knowing this was my chance to watch whatever MLP thing she was watching without looking suspicious. “She wasn’t that bad last time. Maybe she hates me less now.”
Mom smiled. “Thanks, sugar. We’ll be back in a few hours at most.”
And I was free to take the recliner and see what I was missing. I remained calm as I saw what was on the screen—it was Twilight, but not Twilight. She was human, at a high school, and her pet dragon Spike was a dog. I was so confused. Obviously I’d missed the beginning where they must have explained how this had happened. If only I could ask my little sister to restart the show. This was seriously blowing my mind.
“I’m not changing the show,” Holly said.
I listened to Twilight, something about losing her crown and needing to find it? “That’s fine.”
I noticed from the corner of my eye that Holly looked at me weirdly. I froze, realizing I should have said something more antagonistic. She put her hands on her hips, tilting her head dramatically. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Uh . . .” Even now, fearful that my sister had caught me, I found it hard to keep my eyes off the TV because I would miss the show. That’s when I realized—and hoped and prayed she would go along with it—that Holly, obnoxious punk little Holly, could be my secret keeper. It was a risk, but she probably suspected anyway. “Can you pause it first?”
She frowned. “Why?”
I took a deep breath. Here I was about to confess to an eight-year-old, and my heart raced like she was Dad or something. “Well, because I don’t want to miss it while I’m talking to you?”
“Huh?” Her face only deepened in confusion, as expressive as a living cartoon. Then it clicked, and her eyes popped wide open. “Do you like My Little Pony?”
I nodded slowly, waiting for her to laugh and tell me she would rat me out when our parents got home—to hold it over my head like the blackmail it was.
Instead, she smiled. “Really? You’re not joking?”
“Nope, not joking,” I said, unsure of what she’d say next.
“Who’s your favorite pony?”
“Probably Applejack,” I admitted. “Or maybe Princess Luna.”
I didn’t think it possible, but her grin grew even bigger. “You’re not lying! Did you watch more or something?”
“I watched all the episodes.” I pointed to the TV. “But not this. What is this?”
“Equestria Girls! It’s the movies!” She bounced up and down. “I thought you were just a smelly, gross boy, but you like good stuff, too!”
“Movies, huh?” This was intriguing, and also odd. I was having a real conversation with my little sister for the first time ever. “So there’s more than one?”
“Yup! You wanna watch’em?”
“Yeah, but first . . .” I looked to the sides, as if my parents could hear me talking from miles away. Maybe it was stupid putting my faith in a kid, but I felt lighter having told her. “Can you keep a secret?”
She nodded, her curls bouncing.
“Okay, good. Because I need you to keep this a secret for me. I don’t want anyone but you knowing—this is just a brother and sister thing. Can you do that for me?”
She frowned. “But why?”
“Just for fun.” I hoped that was all she needed. “It can be our thing.”
“Our thing?”
“Yeah.” I went to my backpack and pulled out my notebook full of sketches. My palms got sweaty at the thought of showing her, but at the same time she was only eight. I could draw like crap and she’d probably still think they were pretty good. “Wanna see something?”
She stood up from the couch and skipped over. “What?”
“I . . . I started drawing them. Take a look.” I opened to the first drawing and handed it over. Holly’s eyes went wide as she paged through my pictures.
“Whoa . . .” she whispered with an odd sort of reverence. “You’re really good.”
Her words caught me off guard, not because I thought she’d be mean, but because I didn’t think they would hold such significance for me. My heart warmed at her sincerity, and I realized this was the first time any of my family members had ever said I was good at anything. It felt amazing, and I couldn’t help smiling. “You think so?”
Holly nodded. “Will you draw Cadance for me? You don’t have Cadance.”
“Sure . . .” This was my window. I could feel it. “As long as you promise to keep my secret.”
“I promise! Cross my heart and hope to die!” She pointed to the TV again. “What if you draw while we watch this?”
“Okay.”
“You should sit on the couch so I can watch you.” She sat down, patting the cushion next to her. I could hardly believe she was being so nice, but when I thought about it, she didn’t have anyone in the house to talk MLP with either. So I joined her and she fawned over every line I made while we watched the first Equestria Girls movie.
“That’s perfect!” She leaned on my shoulder as I finished up the drawing. “Thank you for drawing it. Thank you for watching this with me.”
“No problem.” And then it hit me. Holly wasn’t as annoying as I thought—she just tried to get attention. Now that I thought about it, she was often left on her own while we went about our lives. She probably loved My Little Pony because they kept her company. I decided then and there I should pay more attention to her because I had no idea hanging out with my little sister could be so fun.
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br /> Chapter 17
QUINCY AND I pressed the buttons on the controllers rapidly as we defended ourselves from the enemy team. But unlike my best friend, I had horrible aim and only got one player down before I ran out of ammo. Quincy, on the other hand, used four bullets and killed everyone. He smiled victoriously at the screen. “Nice.”
“You’re a god,” I said, putting down the controller. “You don’t even need me.”
He laughed. “I do, too. You distract the team so I can shoot them.”
“So I’m the bait?” Although I acted offended, I couldn’t help laughing. If we won because I ran around like an idiot while he did all the work, I’d take it.
“Hey, you’re pretty good at it.” He punched my shoulder. “You don’t die.”
“I could be a pro not-die-er.”
“Totally.” He held up his controller. “Wanna go again?”
I glanced at the time on my phone. In truth, I was waiting for something big. Something I didn’t dream of until Holly had made it possible. Turns out having her as my MLP secret keeper was the best thing I had ever done. She was like my supplier, feeding the fire with all things pony, encouraging me to draw and post them. She even said the other night that she was my biggest fan.
That’s why she went to the store with my mom—to beg for colored pencils.
“Why do you only do pencil?” Holly had asked after I finished drawing Shining Armor to go with the Princess Cadance I had done for her. “The colors are the best part!”
“I don’t have anything to color with,” I’d told her. “I don’t have that kind of stuff at school like you do, and I can’t ask Mom to buy it without her wondering why. Then I’d have to reveal my secret.”
Holly had jumped off my bed, bounced across the room, and disappeared around the corner before I had a chance to ask her where she was headed. But she had promptly returned holding a box of crayons. “How about these?”
“Hmm, I’ll try, I guess.” I hadn’t used crayons since I was a kid, but I remembered them not ever coloring the way I wanted them to. They were too dull to make crisp lines like a pencil. Sure enough, when I’d tried to color a test Pinkie Pie, it was as bad as I remembered. “I don’t think these’ll work. Maybe colored pencils. Do you have those?”
