My Little Brony

by K. M. Hayes

  Holly shook her head. “But I will get you some. I can ask Mom.”

  And that’s why I was at Quincy’s burning time while I waited for Holly to get back with things that would make my drawings even better. It was barely enough distraction. I was so eager to get my hands on something that wasn’t a graphite pencil or a crayon, I could hardly take it.

  “Hey, Drew.” Quincy snapped in my face. “You there? Another game or not?”

  “Oh, sorry.” I looked up from my phone. “I might have to leave soon to babysit Holly again is all.”

  Quincy narrowed his eyes. “I thought y’all hated each other and she was a terror when you did that.”

  “Well, yeah . . . but she’s grown up a bit.” I fiddled with my controller, hating to lie. “And they started paying me for it. Money doesn’t hurt, you know?”

  He pursed his lips and winced. “Really? Because I think you’re not telling the truth.”

  “What?” I froze, which probably gave away my guilt.

  He pointed at me. “You’re totally lying! Looking at your phone like that . . . being all distracted and barely coming over . . . you have a girlfriend, don’t you? Which one? Emma or that Skye girl?”

  “Neither!” I laughed, relieved that was the assumption.

  “Then what is it? You’re acting all weird lately.”

  “Uh . . .” Luckily, my phone rang right then. It was my mom’s cell phone. I held it up for Quincy. “See? Not a girlfriend.”

  “This time,” he said. “I’m still not buying it.”

  I answered the call instead of answering him. It was, in fact, Holly. “Hey, I got them. Come home, okay?”

  “Got it. Be there in a sec.” I hung up. “Sorry, I have to go.”

  I didn’t feel guilty until I saw Quincy’s expression. He looked sad, maybe a little mad, too. He knew I was hiding something, and my lying wouldn’t change that. Should have known I couldn’t fool my best friend forever.

  “Yeah,” Quincy muttered.

  “I’ll be your bait tomorrow, I promise,” I said.

  He smirked. “Good.”

  I ran across the field faster than I should have, considering it was dark outside. Only tripped once. When I got home, Holly was on the sofa and my parents were nowhere in sight. She hopped up, waving the bag like it was a trophy. “I got them! It wasn’t even that hard!”

  I put my finger to my lips. “Shh! Where’s Mom and Dad?”

  “Watching a movie upstairs.” She bounced over to me. “Are you gonna draw for me now?”

  “Sure. My room.”

  We headed up the stairs and settled into what had become a routine over the last several days. I’d lean against my headboard and prop my notebook on my knees, and Holly would sit next to me to watch. Tonight, she pulled out the goods, and I was surprised to find not only pencils but also a crisp new sketchpad.

  “Whoa. . .” I picked it up. “Is this for me, too?”

  She nodded. “You can’t draw in that notebook anymore. The lines get in the way.”

  “Thanks, Holly. This is awesome.” I wanted to hug her, but I held back. How could she be so thoughtful?

  “Now draw me Twilight sitting in her library with Spike and Owlowiscious.”

  I laughed. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t thoughtful as much as I was now her drawing slave. But I didn’t mind. If she could get me this nice art stuff, I was happy to draw what she wanted. Besides, pleasing her was a good challenge. Sometimes she’d even tell me if I was drawing something wrong—she made sure my ponies were by the book.

  “It’s the purple streak and then the hot pink,” Holly said as I colored Twlight’s hair.

  “So purple on the left?” I held my new colored pencil on the paper, waiting for her approval.

  “Yes. And pink on the right.”

  “I swear it’s not always like that, but okay,” I said, coloring in the right part. I thought about Skye, how her pony-inspired clothes got the little details right. “You know, there’s this girl at my school I think you’d like. She dresses up as a pony every single day, wears pony ears and everything, like in Equestria Girls.”

  “Really?” Holly squeaked. “What’s her name?”

  “Skye.” When I focused on drawing, it was shockingly easy to tell Holly things. Besides, she always had something funny to say. She was actually a pretty entertaining kid.

  “She even has a name that could be for a Pegasus!” Holly clasped her hands together. “What does she look like?”

  “Well . . .” My face got warm as I thought about her. “She’s got blonde hair, and she’s taller than me.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” I gulped. It was the truth, but it felt weird to say it out loud. There was something about her I liked, even if I hardly knew her. It made me feel a little guilty because there was also Emma, who I did know and thought was pretty too. “But you know what?”

  “What?” Holly leaned into me a bit to see the picture better.

  “People at school aren’t very nice to her. They pick on her a lot, like how Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon pick on the Cutie Mark Crusaders.” I grabbed a dark blue pencil. Holly had gotten Mom to buy a pretty nice set of pencils with lots of different colors—she had a way of getting more from my parents than I ever could.

  “What?” Holly sprung up, looking appalled by the information. “Why?”

  “Because they think she’s too old to like My Little Pony, I guess,” I said. “And maybe because she sticks out, so it’s easy for everyone to make fun of her.”

  Holly frowned, thinking about it. “That’s mean.”

  “It’s really mean.” I now saw why Emma couldn’t stop telling me her problems. It was nice to say out loud that I thought people treated Skye unfairly. “Sometimes I wish Twilight Sparkle and her friends were around to fix it and help everyone be nice.”

  “You stand up to the bullies, though, right? Because Skye is your friend.”

  My pencil stopped, and I looked at Holly. She had her hands on her knees, her intense eyes on me. The hope in them . . . it made me feel horrible. She wanted to see me as the hero, but I wasn’t. “Actually, Skye and I aren’t really friends.”

  “Why not?” Her voice had grown angry. “You have to be her friend! She sounds awesome!”

  I let out a long sigh. How could I explain it to Holly? An eight-year-old wouldn’t get how it wasn’t that easy for me. I didn’t want to be the one to break it to her that the world sucked a lot of the time. “You know how I said Skye gets teased? What do you think would happen if I told people I liked ponies, too?”

  This did not improve Holly’s expression. “Why would people make fun of you guys for liking ponies? It’s the best show in the world! Those people are stupid. You should tell all of them they’re stupid.”

  I let out a dry laugh. Holly and Skye would get along perfectly. I wanted to refute her, but my little sister had a point. “I wish I was as brave as you.”

  “Just do what Rainbow Dash would do,” Holly said. “Dash wouldn’t leave Skye alone like that. She’s loyal. Just like I’m loyal to you because you like ponies, too.”

  Everything snapped into place in my head. Silly little Holly, giving me a lecture about friendship. I should have been smart enough to see it myself, but it took this to make me realize that if I wanted the kind of friendships in My Little Pony, I needed to be more like the ponies.

  Honesty, loyalty, laughter, generosity, kindness . . . magic.

  I couldn’t hide forever. I decided right then that I would tell Skye I liked MLP, too. That was the first step. The biggest, scariest, step.

  Chapter 18

  I WAITED NERVOUSLY in English for Skye to show up. It was the only class I had with her, and she sat right in front of me. There was no better time to ask her if she might want to hang out with me at lunch.

  I had worked it out in my head. If I asked her to have lunch with me, she might do it. She knew I sat out in the middle of nowhere now—a pl
ace where people wouldn’t bother her. Maybe she realized I wasn’t the enemy. Then I could tell her I was an MLP fan with no one around. We could talk ponies and be friends and stuff. It would be the best of both worlds.

  But, as usual, Skye wasn’t there yet. The late bell was about to ring, and my heart pounded. If she didn’t get here soon, class would start and it’d be a lot harder to talk to her. At the very last minute, in she came, sprinting to her desk in a whirl of pastels. She was Princess Celestia today.

  Mr. Rivera gathered his things at his desk, ready to stand up and start class. I didn’t have time to think about it more, so I tapped on Skye’s shoulder once and tried not to freak out.

  She didn’t turn around.

  So I tried again, this time daring to say, “Hey, Skye.”

  “What?” She turned around, immediately on the defensive.

  “I just wanted to ask—” The late bell rang.

  Mr. Rivera cleared his throat, and my chance was gone. Skye turned back around with an eye-roll, and Mr. Rivera began collecting homework. He took roll and by then the morning announcements were on. Maybe, if I was lucky, I’d have a chance to ask Skye after class.

  “Homecoming is this weekend, guys!” said the smiley announcer girl on the screen. “I hope you’re all as excited as I am! The dance will be—”

  “The dance?” the guy announcer said. “Forget the dance! It’s all about the football! Homecoming game is Friday night at seven, and we Broncos are gonna beat GHS so hard they’ll cry.”

  The girl announcer sighed. “Yes, and then Saturday night the real party begins. Make sure to get your tickets early. And, boys, get asking your ladies out so they can get a dress in time!”

  “Oh, and remember,” the guy announcer grinned wickedly. “No booze.” He held up a picture of beer bottles. “No weapons.” He held up a picture of a Nerf gun, and some people in class giggled. “And absolutely no pets.” He grabbed the next picture, and it wasn’t an animal at all.

  It was Skye.

  The picture had been taken in the cafeteria. She had worn a Rainbow Dash getup that day, and she looked like she was growling. Someone must have snapped it on their phone.

  The class broke into laughter.

  Mr. Rivera hadn’t even seen it since he was writing stuff on the board for the upcoming lesson.

  My eyes went to Skye. She was watching the screen because her head was turned that way, but I couldn’t quite see her expression since she faced forward. Her hand tightened around her pencil until it shook. She put it down.

  “Pet?” someone said. “More like wild animal.”

  More laughter.

  “Probably has rabies.”

  People thought they were so funny, when really they were cruel. They had to know Skye heard them, too. And yet she sat there pretending none of it was happening. I remembered that position well.

  Shoulders turned in, hiding, protecting myself against words that could slice deeper than any weapon.

  I still carried the scars of words that had cut me, of wounds so deep I was still healing from them. I couldn’t deal with that happening to another person right in front of me. I finally snapped. All the anger I’d pent up for years as the weak kid who was too klutzy to play football . . . it all came out right then in a surge of bravery.

  I stood up, my fists balled. “It’s not funny!”

  Everyone went silent, looking at me like I’d lost it. Maybe I had. Even Mr. Rivera stared. “Drew, is there something wrong?”

  “Yes.” I pointed to the TV, where the announcements were still on. “That jerk held up a picture of Skye when he said no pets at the dance, and everyone thinks it’s funny when it’s just plain mean.”

  “Did that really happen, class?” Mr. Rivera looked across the room. No one looked back at him with their guilty faces.

  “Of course it happened,” Skye said quietly. “Nothing new.”

  “If you don’t like being teased,” a guy at the back of the class said, “maybe you should stop showing off that you like a stupid baby show.”

  “It’s not stupid!” Skye and I said at the same time.

  Everyone’s eyes turned back to me, and I knew my anger had taken me one step too far. Even Skye’s eyebrows raised in surprise. But worse, I caught Emma’s expression from across the room. Utter betrayal.

  “What? Have you watched it or something?” the guy laughed.

  I could have said no. Part of me still wanted to, but I thought of Holly and how she said people who like MLP should be loyal to each other. Besides, even if I denied it, people wouldn’t stop believing it was true. So I took a deep breath and sealed my fate as the loser guy who liked cute little ponies. “Yeah, I’ve watched it. All the episodes even. It’s a really good show—you could learn a lot about how to be a better person if you gave it a chance.”

  A few people gasped. Others snickered. I sat down, my face beet red. Nothing else was left to say, and I couldn’t take the embarrassment, even if I had brought it on myself. So much for flying under the radar. Skye faced me, but I was even afraid to look at her.

  “Is that really true? You like My Little Pony?” she whispered.

  The hope in her voice, the lack of judgment . . . convinced me to answer as I anxiously doodled in my notebook. “You did a good job making your Princess Celestia outfit. The colors are spot on.”

  Mr. Rivera spoke instead of her. “Okay, class, let’s get one thing straight. It is not okay to bully anyone, and especially over something as small as someone’s preferred entertainment. Good media—no matter the intended age group—can be enjoyed by people of all ages. So let’s move on to learning about old dead guys who wrote for other old dead guys so that now you, too, can enjoy their works.”

  No one laughed at Mr. Rivera’s joke this time. Maybe it was just me, but class was extremely awkward after that. I felt people staring at me, but every time I dared to look up, I didn’t catch anyone. The lesson was lost on me since I was preparing for the inevitable.

  Word would get out fast. Maybe it already had thanks to stupid cell phones. If I thought Skye got crap for liking MLP . . . I’d get ten times more because I was a guy. I decided to walk on the outer borders of the school to get to my lunch spot instead of through the halls, which always reduced the chances of people finding me. Dad would hear for sure. I wondered how he’d take it, or if he’d even mention it now that we were officially not speaking unless absolutely necessary.

  It would be ugly, and yet I wasn’t as scared as I had expected to be when my secret got out. Maybe I was in shock. Or maybe it felt like this huge weight was off my shoulders.

  The bell rang, and I took my time getting my bag packed. Skye did the same thing. I caught her glancing at me, so I figured I should say it. “Before class . . . I was gonna ask you if you wanted to eat lunch with me so I could tell you that. But I guess you already know now.”

  Her smile was sad, as if she knew I was about to be in a world of hurt. “Can I eat lunch with you anyway?”

  “Yeah, of course.” I got up and threw my backpack over my shoulder. “Guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Drew?”

  I looked back, and for once Skye didn’t look like a prickly cat about to snap. She seemed as gentle hearted as Emma. “Thanks. And sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I left because I wasn’t sure what else to say with Mr. Rivera watching. Besides, I would be late for my next class if I didn’t hurry.

  As I pushed through the halls, I probably should have felt worse. I’d basically ruined the next four years of my life in one move, but all I thought about was lunch with Skye. It’d be the first time in the history of my school years that I’d eat with someone I wanted to. And that was kind of awesome.

  Chapter 19

  WORD SPREAD LIKE a bad cold. By the end of third period, people mocked me and asked if it was true. If I didn’t answer, they said I was hiding it. If I did, they asked me if I was gay, or called me a sissy boy, or straight up laughed in my
face and called me a freak. I was prepared for this, but it still hurt. The lunch bell ringing, for once, was a relief—it meant I could hide and see Skye, who at least understood.

  I’d been sitting at my usual lunch spot in the abandoned art hall for seven minutes when Skye finally showed up and plopped down next to me. She leaned against the wall. She didn’t have a lunch tray, and I wondered if she had started skipping lunch at some point. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Seems to be your thing,” I said.

  She laughed. It was the first time I’d heard it, and it made me smile. “It is, actually. Time is hard for me.”

  “I see.” I bit into my sandwich, not sure where to go from here. It felt oddly . . . comfortable, which made it weird. It had never felt this easy to talk to a girl.

  “So,” she said when the silence had gone on longer than it should. “You’re a Brony. Coulda told me that sooner.”

  I coughed on my food. “A what?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know what a Brony is?”

  “No.” I took a drink from my water bottle. “I started watching it with my sister a little over a month ago. I haven’t told a soul up until today.”

  “Seriously? You haven’t searched the Internet for all the goodies?” She put her hand to her earrings. I hadn’t noticed them before. They were in the shape of Princess Celestia’s cutie mark. “I bought these from a girl in California who only makes My Little Pony jewelry. She’s a Pegasister—that’s what girl fans are called sometimes. And guy fans are called Bronies. Or sometimes everyone is called a Brony. It’s a little confusing.”

  It took a moment for me to process this. “Are you saying there are, like, a lot of guys who like this? Not just me?”

  She nodded. “A ton! Dude, you need to get online.”

  “I am . . . kinda.” My stomach flipped as I thought of my drawings. Showing them to Holly was one thing, but Skye? She was legit. Hardcore.