My Little Brony

by K. M. Hayes

  “You don’t need me to accept you, huh?” Dad cut in. “Fine. You want me to take it out on you?”

  I almost said, “Bring it.” But instead I waited for him to continue.

  “You’re not going to that damn freak show meeting. Why? Because you’ve underminded me in every possible way.” Dad came closer, but it didn’t bother me. At least he was taking it out on the right person now instead of Mom. “And you may not need my acceptance, but you do need my permission. Because you’re a kid, and I’m your father.”

  “My permission doesn’t count?” Mom said.

  “Shut up!” He didn’t even look at her. “You want me to blame you? Okay, it’s your fault, Son. You could have picked another sport. You could have worked harder to become stronger. You could have been a man, but instead you quit football, got bullied for being a loser, and then you start watching a little girl show and drawing ponies like a sissy. You deserved to get hit for that shit. They beat me to it.”

  On the night he laid into me after the first Brony meet-up, his words had cut. This was equally cruel, but for some reason, it didn’t have the same impact. Instead, I felt sad.

  I pitied him.

  “Scott, how can you say that?” Mom said as she covered her mouth, broken to pieces at this point. I guessed his words cut her this time instead of me.

  “Mom, it’s okay,” I said, standing as tall as I could to face my father. I wouldn’t do this out of anger or out of fear. This time I wouldn’t let him make me feel inferior. “May I ask you a question, Dad?”

  “Go ahead,” he spat.

  “Do you think Walt Disney is a sissy?”

  His brow furrowed. “What?”

  “I’m just sayin’ . . . he’s a famous animator and he was a man. He created movies about princesses and talking mice. He also became super rich because of it and is famous to this day even though he’s dead.” I had read about animators recently, not just the ones behind My Little Pony, but people like Walt Disney and Hayao Miyazaki and John Lasseter. All guys. All artists. “So, was Disney a sissy?”

  “Yes,” he answered, but it didn’t sound too confident.

  “What about John Lasseter, the creator of Pixar?” I continued. “He didn’t make princess movies. He’s done cars and toys and fish and stuff. Is he a sissy, too?”

  “Just what in the hell are you trying to say?”

  “I just want to know!” I held up my hands. “Because by your definition of being a man, I’m thinking at least 90 percent of the guys out there you’d call sissies. Artists, actors, musicians, dancers, writers . . . basically any guy who doesn’t play sports or like them much, right?”

  Silence. This was not the usual reply for my father.

  “Or is it just that I was drawn to My Little Pony that bothers you?” I continued. “If I had watched some boyish cartoon and decided to be an artist, would it have been different? Is it the act of drawing that is so bad or the subject matter?”

  “Both,” he said. “But especially that stupid show.”

  “How do you know it’s stupid? You’ve never watched it.” At that moment, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned, seeing honey curls and part of Holly’s face peeking out from behind the wall. Tearstains streaked her face. “Holly, go upstairs. I’ll be up soon.”

  She shook her head, looking at Dad. “Why is My Little Pony stupid, Daddy?”

  Dad’s eyebrows popped up, and we looked to him for an answer. “Well, uh, sweetie, it’s okay for you because you’re a little girl.”

  Holly stepped further into the kitchen, her confusion only deepened by his answer. I knew the feeling. “So it’s okay for little girls to watch stupid shows, but boys aren’t allowed? Why?”

  “Well—er—” Dad scratched the back of his neck, clearly struggling to find an answer when faced with his eight-year-old daughter. “Boys and girls are just different.”

  “Watch it, Scott,” Mom said through her teeth. “If you tell my little girl she’s lesser in any way, I will lose it.”

  I had to hand it to Holly, she had backed Dad into a corner better than I had. This was my chance to take it even further. “You let Mom and Holly watch those superhero movies with us. Aren’t those ‘boy shows’?”

  “Yeah,” Holly said with a nod. “Why did you do that?”

  “It’s okay if you watch boy shows,” Dad said. “But Drew shouldn’t watch girl shows.”

  Holly scrunched her face like she smelled bad cheese. “That’s just stupid.”

  “Isn’t it?” I said, putting my hands on her shoulders. “I think we should both be allowed to watch ‘girl’ and ‘boy’ shows.”

  She nodded. “It’s not fair to the boys. They miss half of the good shows.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at that.

  “This ain’t gonna work,” Dad said. He was still angry and clearly trying to tiptoe around Holly.

  “But Daddy,” Holly said. “My Little Pony isn’t even a stupid show. Even Chip Pullman at school saw it and said it was cool, and he plays football and everything. Just like you.”

  “Gary Pullman’s boy?” Dad said in surprise. “Does his father know?”

  Holly shrugged.

  An idea formed in my head. It was a long shot, but there was no better time to go for it. “How about we make a deal, Dad?”

  “A deal?” Dad looked down on me like he preferred to yell instead. “What kind of deal?”

  “You watch the first two episodes of My Little Pony and—”

  “Nope!” He waved his hands in front of himself. “No way in hell I’ll do that.”

  “I’m not finished,” I said. “If you watch, and you hate it, I won’t go to the Brony meet-ups. None of them.”

  He froze, his interest piqued. “Go on.”

  “But if you like it—even just the tiniest bit—you let me go and drop all this once and for all.” I gulped. This was a big gamble. Chances were, if we got him to watch, he’d hate every second. “You can’t keep judging the show without even seeing any of it. So that’s the deal. Take it or leave it. If you don’t, you can keep fighting until you get a divorce.”

  Holly squeaked. “A divorce? You’re getting divorced?”

  “No, sugar . . .” Mom glanced at Dad, and I could tell she’d thought about it. A lot.

  Holly must have sensed the lie, too, because she started bawling. “But if you get a divorce, we won’t live together anymore! We won’t be a family anymore!”

  “Shh.” Dad hated crying. He especially hated Holly crying. So this was perfect because he said, “Don’t cry, baby girl. I’ll watch the show, okay?”

  “Really?” Holly perked right up, wiping her tears as quickly as turning off a faucet. I had to hand it to her—she might be the one to save us all in the end. She at least had given us a fighting chance.

  Chapter 37

  AS WE SAT down in the living room and Holly happily grabbed the remote, I had to admit that I never thought this would happen. All of us—Dad included—sitting down as a family to watch My Little Pony. Not that Dad looked the least bit willing or excited, more like he was determined to hate the show even if football was in it.

  I wondered if I should have custom picked two episodes with sports in them, like the Equestria Games storyline. But the first two? All bets were off.

  “You’re gonna love this, Daddy!” Holly bounced in her seat, far more confident than I was. “It’s the best. I bet you’ll like Rainbow Dash most.”

  “Rain. Bow. Dash.” He groaned, like saying “rainbow” made him less of a man. “How long is this gonna take?”

  Mom rolled her eyes. “The episodes are like twenty-three minutes long—you’ll survive.”

  “Barely.”

  I said nothing. I knew I couldn’t do anything to convince him. I had to let the show speak for itself. I had to believe in the things that had made me fall in love with it. My Little Pony—it didn’t need defending, and I was tired of defending it. Every skeptic in my life who’d wa
tched it—Jake, Emma, Quincy—had seen what I liked about the show. They had accepted me more afterwards.

  Either Dad would, or he wouldn’t.

  The end.

  The first episode began with Twilight reading about the return of Nightmare Moon. I glanced at Dad when she was sent to Ponyville to help with the Summer Sun Celebration and ordered to make friends. His face was unmoved, set in an angry glare. I almost waited for him to plug his ears, he looked so annoyed.

  As Twilight met her future friends, he didn’t betray a single emotion except occasional disgust. I could tell he didn’t like Pinkie Pie. Every time she was on-screen his eyes widened, as if the party pony were all his nightmares rolled into one.

  I smirked. Now that I thought about it, Pinkie Pie was his nightmare.

  My dad. Afraid of Pinkie Pie.

  It took everything in me not to laugh at the thought, and I couldn’t wait to see his face when Pinkie Pie sang the “Laughter Song” at the creepy trees.

  “What’s so funny?” Holly asked me. Nightmare Moon was about to appear—a completely humorless moment.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I said.

  The first episode ended with Princess Celestia disappearing and Nightmare Moon shrouding the world in endless night. We’d made it through half without Dad storming out or complaining too much. Not that this gave me much hope, but I had expected him to mock it a lot more.

  Mom stood up. “Oh! The dough! I need to get back to that. Start it without me.”

  “Okay!” Holly still had the remote clutched to her chest. Maybe she didn’t think Dad would make it through two whole episodes before turning on football again. “What do you think, Daddy? It wasn’t stupid, was it? It was cool!”

  I bit my tongue. If I had asked that, I’m sure Dad would have told me exactly what he thought in the meanest way possible. But with Holly, he forced a smile and said, “Start the next one, baby girl, I don’t wanna miss the whole game I was watching.”

  “Oh, right.” Holly pressed PLAY, and we picked up where the first episode ended. Twilight was figuring out what the Elements of Harmony were, and her new friends had come to help her out. Personally, I loved this episode. It was still one of my favorites. Seeing them work together and use their unique talents had always inspired me to be more confident in myself. Maybe I wasn’t sporty like Rainbow Dash, but I still had a role to play, a place I belonged.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dad grumbled at the dragon and his ruined mustache. I’d forgotten he’d probably hate this even more than Pinkie Pie.

  “What?” Holly asked, concerned.

  “Nothing,” he replied.

  Like I expected, the Pinkie Pie song traumatized him, but I noticed that he hadn’t hated all the parts. He was okay with Applejack saving Twilight, and when Fluttershy tamed the manticore he seemed surprised. Of course, he clearly liked Rainbow Dash and her sportiness and loyalty the most. He almost half-smiled when she turned down a spot with the Shadowbolts.

  Mom came back in when they entered the old castle to face Nightmare Moon. “Rolls are rising. Dinner in an hour.”

  “I really am starving,” I said. “I might die by then.”

  “You’ll live.” She smiled a little. “If your father can survive this, you can wait an hour for dinner.”

  Dad didn’t reply to the dig. He watched the show, and anger and annoyance turned into something else. Not that it was positive—he just looked plain confused. Twilight gave her speech about discovering the magic of friendship. The Elements of Harmony appeared and defeated Nightmare Moon. Princess Luna appeared in the aftermath and made up with her big sister. Twilight stayed in Ponyville to study friendship, and then it was over.

  The credits scrolled by, and we waited for Dad to give his verdict. I tried not to be nervous, but now that his part of the deal had been fulfilled, awaiting the results was excruciating.

  “So?” Holly finally said. “Did you like it?”

  Dad sighed. He only looked more perplexed as he rubbed the scruff on his chin. I had no idea what he thought, but the lack of an outright declaration of hatred gave me way more hope than it should have. He held out his hand to Holly. “Give me the remote. The game’s still going.”

  Frowning, she did as he said. “But can Drew go to the Brony meet-up or not?”

  “Good question,” Mom said. “No reason to draw out the suspense.”

  “I need to think,” Dad snapped. “Let me watch the game and get outta my hair.”

  We scattered out of the living room as quickly as we could. With the future of my social life on the line, I figured for the time being I shouldn’t put up a fight. I flopped onto my bed upstairs, exhausted from the arguing and tension that had been building up in our house for a month.

  “Can I stay with you?” Holly asked from my doorway.

  “Yeah.”

  She got comfortable next to me, but she wasn’t smiling. Holly looked as tired as I felt. She pursed her lips together, and I could tell she wanted to say something but was worried she’d bother me.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “It’s just . . .” Holly fiddled with her curls, not looking at me. “It really hurt my feelings when Daddy said My Little Pony was stupid.”

  I sighed. “Me too.”

  “And then he watched it and didn’t even smile once.” Her eyes met mine, her face indignant. “How can you not even smile once? He’s like Cranky Doodle Donkey, just a big ol’ meanie pants.”

  I laughed. “Oh my gosh, you’re so right. He’s totally Cranky!”

  “We’re just trying to be nice to him. Why can’t he be nice back?” Holly asked, and I wanted to hug her. For so long I’d seen her as this obnoxious little kid, but she was a lot smarter and more perceptive than we gave her credit for. Much like her beloved My Little Pony.

  “Maybe he’ll come around eventually,” I told her because I couldn’t ruin her hopes. Perhaps I wanted to hope a little, too. “Cranky did.”

  She nodded. “He did, didn’t he?”

  “Yup.” I didn’t want to think about this anymore, not when I wanted the answer so badly and couldn’t go down there to demand it. So I did the only thing I could to pass the time. “Which pony do you want me to draw?”

  Holly perked up. “Do Sunset Shimmer before she got banished! With Princess Celestia!”

  “Ooo, good one.” I grabbed my sketchpad and got to work. Holly described how she wanted the scene, and I tried to translate that onto the page. I’d gotten a decent pencil outline done when Mom called us down for dinner.

  We rushed down, both of us probably eager to find out if Dad had decided yet. And I was so hungry I planned on eating half the food myself. As I took my seat, my mouth watered at the spread—a roast, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, and salad. We couldn’t say grace fast enough.

  “. . . Amen,” Mom said, and we dug in.

  While I shoveled the food into my mouth, I occasionally glanced at Dad. He had gone back to his usual emotionless state and was completely unreadable. I worried he’d never give me an answer just out of spite.

  Then Mom cleared her throat. “I think you’ve had enough time to think, Scott. Time to tell us what you’ve decided now that you’ve watched the show.”

  Dad sighed deeply, and it felt like everything was in slow motion. He wiped his face off with a napkin as slow as a turtle, took a drink from his beer almost as fast as a snail, and when he went for another bite of roast, I lost it.

  “Just tell me!” I said. “Can I go or not?”

  “No, you can’t,” he said.

  I sat back in my chair, reality hitting quickly. Watching My Little Pony . . . it didn’t work like I had expected it to. There was the slightest chance it would have, and I’d put more faith in that than I realized. Now it was gone. . . .

  “But,” he said as he chewed and swallowed. “You can take your sister. If she wants to go.”

  There was a pause, as if none of us quite got what he meant.

/>   “Wait,” I said, “so I can go?”

  “No,” he said again, this time more impatiently since I clearly should have understood him. “You can take your sister. She’s allowed to go, but she needs a chaperone. You have to go—you don’t get to go. That way me and your mother can go out while you’re babysitting her there. That is, if Holly wants to go.”

  “I wanna go!” She jumped out of her chair. “I really wanna go!”

  “There,” Dad said, not looking at me or anyone else. “She wants to go, so you have to take her and make sure she’s safe. That’s what big brothers do.”

  “Okay . . .” I wasn’t entirely sure, but this might have been Dad’s way of making things work in his mind. He wouldn’t admit outright that he didn’t hate My Little Pony or that he approved of me liking it at all. Yet I thought he almost might have, anyway. “So let me get this straight. Holly is allowed to go. I am not, but I have to go with her.”

  He nodded once. “That’s what you say to everyone I know. You only go because you have to take care of your sister. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said quickly before he changed his mind.

  “Good.” He left the table then and went back to his football game. But in his wake he left something new. Not his usual disdain, but a tentative truce. Things might not ever be perfect between me and Dad, but in that moment the winds changed. For the first time in a long while, instead of growing further apart, we’d taken a step towards understanding each other.

  I couldn’t ask for more than that.

  Chapter 38

  I STOOD IN front of the school with Skye and Emma waiting for Mrs. Jorgenson to show up with Quincy and Holly. All of us would “chaperone” Holly to the Brony meet-up. I was not allowed to go—I was being forced. My friends thought the whole thing was hilarious, but Skye was happy regardless of my father’s stubborn ways.

  But first we had a cake to make.

  “There they are.” I pointed to Mrs. Jorgenson’s white van. Most of her kids had left the nest, but she still drove it anyway. Good thing, because we’d fit easily.