Title:           Week23 - GreentextSavant
Author:          AlexanderGrey
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/sPxFazg8
First Edit:      Saturday 27th of August 2016 11:04:50 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Saturday 27th of August 2016 11:04:50 AM CDT

COGNITIVE DISSONANCE:
>…
>All throughout the next day of school, Trixie’s overly confident stride carries a little bit more speed in her step than usual.
>She’s just waiting for someone to ask her why she’s in such a good mood. The girl has already recited her answers to herself.
>”You know those nasty raccoons that go climbing into people’s backyards around this time of year?” Trixie’s voice starts off all airy and almost humble.
>Before anyone can even hope to ask, Trixie answers in a much more excited voice.
>”The Great and Powerful Trixie put an arrow through the heart of one of those.”
>Even Trixie herself saw the arrow go through its back. But whatever, these people can’t prove a thing anyway.
>Maybe the arrow really did reach the heart from the back, which is a little bit more than just a possibility in Trixie’s mind.
>”When did you get so good at firing arrows?” An already skeptical Rainbow Dash approaches the would-be archer.
>”Trixie was simply already good at firing arrows!” The girl restates the same thing she proclaimed to her stepsister.
>Rainbow Dash crosses her arms in a way that Trixie recognizes from a certain time before.
>”And you struck it through the… heart? You said?” Dash curiously waits for Trixie’s answer.
>”Rainbow!” Twilight’s voice sounds from behind.
>With a slight jolt, Rainbow Dash turns around. Her friend stands before her with an obviously concerned expression on her face.
>”Erm… I gotta admit, that’s a very interesting story, Trixie. Sure wish I could have been there to witness it myself. Sounds like you’ve gotten pretty good at archery since last year.”
>”IF… you were paying attention, Trixie already made it crystal clear that she doesn’t NEED practice to perfectly fire an arrow.” Trixie lightly shuts her eyes and tilts her face towards the ceiling.
>”O-of course! That was silly of me. Sorry.” Twilight turns to Rainbow Dash. “Rainbow, can we talk for a second?”
>Dash follows Twilight out of sight and earshot as Trixie continues to brag to the other students about her lucky shot.
>”Twilight!” Dash quietly grits her teeth and balls her hands into fists. “She’s totally making this up! It couldn’t be more obvious.”
>Twilight lets out a deep breath. “Rainbow, I know this might be a little hard to swallow at first, but you need to let her have this one.”
>”W-what?” Dash’s eyes widen.
>”Just hear me out… please. As a friend.”
>Dash squeezes the upper ridge of her nose between her eyebrows, but nods and agrees to listen.
>”I’ve been watching Trixie rather closely nowadays. Because… well… her social behavior around other people seemed a little bit…”
>”Weird?”
>”Different.” Twilight sternly corrects her friend. “And I’ve recently been reading up on social behavior a lot. And I mean, a WHOLE lot.”
>”…Okay?”
>”I did a little bit of analysis on the specific things I’ve observed from Trixie. Referring to herself in third person all the time, always seriously roleplaying as a wizard, just to name two of them. Very specific things.”
>”So… what does this mean?” Dash is already starting to see where this is going, gulping to herself that she might have to apologize to Trixie.
>”Well, I’m clearly in no position to formally diagnose anything. But I’ve still read up on the subject a lot.”
>”Stop beating around the bush and tell me!” Dash grows tense and urgent.
>Twilight sighs, then continues. “Trixie, as far as I can tell, is most likely displaying quite a few symptoms of autism.”
>Rainbow Dash groans, now realizing why a lot of the students around Trixie had been oddly nice to her whenever she would boat after one of her performances during theater practice.
>She knew that there had to be a reason behind it.
>”I’m not saying that she absolutely does or anything like that. I could very well be wrong. But it’s a pretty high possibility that this is the case, Rainbow.”
>”So… is that why… everyone else… whenever-”
>”Yes. This has been talked about amongst a lot of the students recently, which is what compelled me to read up on it.”
>”So…”
>”Look. I’m not asking you to worship her or anything. But just play along with it and slowly extract yourself from the conversation if you don’t feel like doing it for long.”
>”What if you’re wrong?” Rainbow Dash inquires. “What if Trixie just said something like this so a rumor would spread and everyone would give her more… positive attention?”
>”There’s no proof of that, Rainbow. I’m just trying to be careful and take the high road here. Like I said, I know it’s hard to swallow at first, but it’s the rational thing to do.”
>”Oh, I get it.” Dash forces herself to understand. “So you don’t want me making that same mistake Leafy did.”
>Twilight stares at her. “Who?”
>”Err… a YouTuber. Sorry, that was a bad example. You wouldn’t even know who that is, since you don’t watch YouTube videos, right?”
>”I watch educational videos from Numberphile and other channels on that site.”
>”…Who?”
>”Nevermind.” Twilight shakes her head, returning to the central point. “Back on topic. Can you just promise me not to… burst her bubble? At least not for the time being?”
>Rainbow Dash hesitates for a second.
>”Fine.” She finally sighs. “I just… didn’t think about this whole thing that way.”
>”Don’t sweat it, Rainbow. I’m just making sure you’re aware, that’s all. I’m not mad at you or anything.”
>”Okay.”
>They both nod and walks back around the corner to where Trixie persists in her bragging.
>…
>Sugarcoat sits with her group of friends as Crystal Prep during lunch time.
>”Your stepsister sounds arrogant as hell.” Sour Sweet comments, hopping onto her metaphorical high horse. “There’s no way anyone could delude themselves into believing that luck is the same thing as skill. I mean, we all know first hand how much practice it takes to pull off a bullseye more than even half the time.”
>Everyone at the nods in agreement, except for Lemon Zest who can’t hear anything other than the music coming form her headphones.
>”Well, anyone normal at least.”
>”You’re not exactly one to determine who’s normal or not.” Sugarcoat adds.
>”Hey, shut up!” Sour Sweet slams her fists onto the table.
>Sugarcoat doesn’t even flinch. “But you still have a point about Trixie being more arrogant than a regular person should.”
>”What if there’s something up with her?” Sunny Flare asks.
>There’s a long moment of silence at the table before Indigo Zap speaks up. “Hey, I just thought of something.” She brings up. “What if there’s something up with your stepsister?”
>”Well, it’s pretty clear she has issues.” Sour Sweet agrees before turning to Sugarcoat and swiftly changing her voice back to an aggressive tone. “Don’t say it!”
>”Yeah, but…” Indigo continues. “Maybe someone needs to give her a wake up call. You know, give her a good kick in the ass to burst her bubble. Give her a little taste of reality.”
>Sugarcoat sighs. “Believe me, I’ve tried. She doesn’t listen. Ever. Literally ever.”
>The other girls already know that Sugarcoat’s not exaggerating.
>”There is no way she’s that bad.” Indigo nearly stands up. “Like… what the hell!”
>”Wait.” Sour Sweet interjects. “You said that Canterlot High’s having a talent show, right?”
>Sugarcoat nods.
>”And Trixie’s going to try and be the huge star of it all, right?”
>Sugarcoat nods a second time.
>”What if we were to….?”
>”It isn’t necessary.” Sugarcoat tells her. “She’s doomed to fail no matter what she does. Her main act in and of itself is unoriginal garbage.” The then adds, “But that doesn’t mean the crowds won’t cheer her on anyay.”
>”Ugh, Canterlot High has always been a bunch of softies!” Huffs Indigo. “No matter how bad a performance is, they stick their thumbs up in mid air and go GOOD JOB! GOOD JOB! GUD JEEAAHHB!” She mockingly sticks her thumb out in front of her. “They might be alright people overall now after the Friendship Games, but their hugbox culture can stick its thumb up its ass.”
>”It’s like no one in Trixie’s sphere of communication can tell her how much of an arrogant bitch she is.” Sour Sweet conveys.
>”No, but I can.” Sugarcoat tells her, planning up something to tell Trixie once the two girls get back home.
>…
>As she enters through the front door, Trixie hums a tune to herself.
>Sugarcoat waits in the bedroom once again, doing the same thing she does every day after school.
>She keeps her pencil steady so she doesn’t let the startling sound of the door slamming open make her have to spend two minutes erasing an unwanted mark on her homework.
>”So…” Trixie begins. “You gonna come to the talent show this Friday?”
>”No. Now let me do my homework.” Sugarcoat doesn’t even look up from the desk.
>Trixie places her backpack on her bed and steps back out the door. “Mmmkay…”
>Sugarcoat memorizes what specific things she’s going to have to break to Trixie once she gets the homework out of the way.
>Some… presumably simple things.
>Down in the basement, Trixie picks up the equipment once again. She plans to take thing a little bit more… slowly.
>She happily strides out to the backyard and sets everything up once more.
>Trixie already knows that Sugarcoat isn’t watching from the window; she’d rather it be this way.
>The arrow is pulled back again, with Trixie eyeing the red dot a little more closely.
>”Juuust a little bit of practice.” She convinces herself.
>The first shot fired makes it just outside the outer rim of the target. Trixie looks back up to the window, finding no one looking down at her.
>Sugarcoat stays focused on her work, listening to the repeating sound of the arrows colliding into the surface of the fence.
>It continues all the way until she finishes the last math problem. An hour and a half.
>And Sugarcoat knows that there’s no way Trixie got a bullseye in that time; she would have come parading up the stairs if that were the case.
>After a couple more minutes, Trixie hears the sliding glass door to the house open. She focuses away from the fence to see Sugarcoat standing on the back patio.
>”Hit a bullseye.” The girl challenges. “Now. Come on, do it.”
>Trixie stares at Sugarcoat for the longest time. “Wh-wha…”
>”I already know you’re going to say those other ‘great shots’ you just took were just practice.” She eyes the fence with a couple of extra arrows jutting into various parts of the target; far from the center. ”Just do it.”
>Sugarcoat doesn’t say another word, waiting for Trixie to start stalling again.
>With a riled look growing on her face, Trixie point the arrow towards the target. She does everything her mind can possibly do to get a bullseye.
>She waits a few more seconds before deciding two things to herself. That her hand is steady enough to pull this off and that the arrow tip is pointed directly towards nowhere other than the tiny bullseye on the fence.
>…
>The sound of the arrow hitting the fence makes Trixie want to look away, and makes Sugarcoat want to do anything but.
>Sugarcoat’s widening eyes soon boost Trixie’s ego into a smile. The girl holding the bow already knows what to say.
>”What did Trixie tell you?” She notices the arrow’s tip nuzzled directly into the red dot. “That should be proof enough.”
>With her cheeks reddening slightly, Sugarcoat grits her teeth with her mouth closed so Trixie doesn’t see. But her uneasiness still doesn’t go unnoticed.
>”Do it again.” Sugarcoat orders as she sees the three remaining arrows in the quiver.
>Her harsh tone does less than she hoped to Trixie’s arrogance; the other girl already has another arrow in her hand.
>Ready to fire.
>A much less awkward moment of silence passes before the next arrow is released, now with confidence alongside the heightened amount of focus Trixie had the first time.
>Another bullseye, dropping Sugarcoats jaw nearly low enough to land on the grass below.
>”There’s no way.” Sugarcoat gasps.
>Trixie says nothing this time, letting the evidence sink in. The aggravated grunts coming form her stepsister make her wish she could go back in time to see her so skeptical once again.
>So she could compare the past and present Sugarcoat…
>Sugarcoat’s hand snatches the bow and quiver in a heartbeat. ”Give me that.”
>Doesn’t matter to Trixie, all this means is that she can smugly cross her arms now.
>Everything Sugarcoat learned in her time practicing archery is brought up. All of the lessons, tests she took, everything.
>Sugarcoat remembers beating Sour Sweet in a quick match up involving getting three bullseyes in one release with three arrows on the string and three targets. Sour Sweet had done it two times in a row before screwing up; Sugarcoat had done it three times.
>Firing these two on the string should be no problem, while being something Trixie can’t just pick up on.
>The fingers release the string, and there are two different sounds against the fence.
>A familiar thud of one arrow snugly sliding into the wood right next to another arrow in the red dot… and a sharp slicing sound followed by the clank of one metallic arrowhead pelting another.
>Trixie gulps after realizing that the arrow she most recently shot has been split down the middle.
>But her determination unintentionally skyrockets.
>”If anything… THAT might have been a little bit interesting in a talent show. Maybe not winning material, but better than just showing that you can hit a bullseye a couple of ti-” Sugarcoat cuts herself off after seeing Trixie rushing over to the fence. “What are you doing?”
>Trixie yanks the four still in tact arrows from the wood (and the head of the split arrow), now gritting her own teeth herself.
>The girl returns to the spot she stood in before and sets her sights on the split arrow.
>Returning to the pose where she’s about to fire, but with only one arrow on the string.
>Sugarcoat faces Trixie. ”Just what the hell do you think you’re-” She is interrupted by the sharp sound of a metal arrow head striking another of its kind.
>She’d continue to speak if that same sound didn’t happen three more times in a row.
>And Sugarcoat is too afraid to even look at the fence, already aware that there is only one arrow still intact.
>Trixie, trying to hide her own surprise, utters out a few short breathed words. “Go ahead, look.”
>The sight that meets Sugarcoat’s eyes makes the girl have to adjust her glasses to believe that there is a shish kebab of metal arrowheads sticking out of the fence.
>It’s topped off with petal-like halves of wooden shafts sprouting to the sides with the exception of the only erect shaft, lucky enough to have been fired last.
>”Trixie is pretty sure that would win some crows over at a talent show.” Trixie grins over to her step sister.
>”Th-“ Sugarcoat stutters. “There… is n-no way. Just no way. This is literally impossible.”
>Once again, Trixie lets the results do the talking before speaking up herself as she trots on inside. “Looks like we need new arrows.” She’s far too proud to say this.
>Sugarcoat can’t stop her hands from trembling with… some sort of strong emotion she can’t even identify right now.
>She faces Trixie once more. “Y-you…. won this round. But there’s still no possible way you learned that just today! There’s something you’re not telling me!”
>The sliding glass door gently slams behind Trixie as she enters the kitchen, leaving Sugarcoat alone in the backyard.
>And Sugarcoat doesn’t immediately follow Trixie.
>She just stands there in the grass for like five minutes in shock, first questioning reality. Then questioning what really goes on in Trixie’s brain.
>Trixie already knew that Sugarcoat wasn’t going to talk to her as she finally made it back to the room.
>The most depressing sound of the pillow losing its air sounds as Sugarcoats falls onto the bed and leans back onto the pillow.
>The ceiling is the only thing Trixie can see, giving her a blank canvas to imagine the look on Sugarcoat’s face. And that deflated look is the last thing Trixie thinks of before she falls asleep to dream about it.
>Sugarcoat can only grow more confused as the sky grows darker, before falling asleep herself.
>…
>The next couple of days go by without much interaction between Sugarcoat and Trixie.
>Even if those “lucky shots” hadn’t occurred yesterday, Trixie would have gotten a slight boost to her self-esteem from the absence of Sugarcoat’s criticism anyway.
>She goes about the usual bringing up her achievements in conversation, trying to think of the best ways to enthrall people with the stories about herself. As triumphant and amusing as she can make herself appear in the eyes of her peers.
>For them to see her the same way she sees herself.
>Meanwhile at Crystal Prep, Sugarcoat has trouble mentioning what Trixie did to her inner circle of friends.
>All of them immediately feel deep concern for the girl, as she has never hesitated when she had something she wanted to say. Something is definitely wrong.
>”She must have cheated, or learned it beforehand somehow. It’s the only way.” Sour Sweet proclaims. “She’s totally messing with you! She’s probably been doing it for some time now!”
>”I just don’t know what to do. I mean, that’s pretty much the type of material to win the talent show. If she does that on Friday, she has this in the bag.” Sugarcoat admits.
>”I can’t stand cheaters.” Indigo brings up with a slam of her fist on the table. “We have to find out what she’s doing before the talent show.”
>…
>Trixie feels more than happy to be surrounded by interested peers on the bus ride home.
>”As if the raccoon wasn’t enough for Trixie to prove herself.” Trixie leans back into her heat with the widest smile.
>”But like…” Applejack begins. “How on earth did the arrows even stack on top of one another when they’re made of metal? You’d have to shoot them pretty hard in order to get enough force for them to do that. I’m only asking because I work with metal and I’m curious as to how you did that.”
>Twilight leans in. “I’m pretty sure she just pulled the arrow all the way back so it would go extra fast. I think it helps you aim a lot better when the string is all tense and everything.” She suggests. “I’d have to read up on physics to confirm this, but it’s definitely possible.”
>”Especially when Trixie did it herself.” Pinkie adds, eager to hear more.
>”Trixie supposes that it’s easy enough it one focuses to the point where they can see everything that can happen when they let go of the arrow.” Trixie explains. “Perhaps it was determination. Who knows?”
>Rainbow Dash stays in her seat with a blank face the entire bus ride to Trixie’s stop. In her head, there are countless ways to counter what Trixie is telling her friends. So many holes in her story, so many inconsistencies.
>Let alone the fact that she claims to have learned how to perfectly shoot an arrow in… a couple of minutes, was it?
>But then again, there’s no way the rest of the mane six don’t have doubts of their own.
>Rainbow Dash finally speaks up after Trixie is off the bus, respecting what Twilight told her. “So what do you girls think?” She waits until the bus is well over a block away from where Trixie arrogantly strides in the direction of her house.
>”I think it’s a very interesting story.” Fluttershy brings up. “But uh… is that raccoon okay?”
>Applejack starts to speak up, but lets Rarity interrupt her on purpose.
>”Darling, the raccoon’s going to be fine. All the Hills had to do is pull that arrow out of its bottom and set it free back into the wild.” Rarity answers for Applejack.
>”B-but Trixie says that she got it right in the heart. Is that true?”
>”Nope.” Rainbow Dash blurts without thinking.
>”Well, there’s no real proof other than Trixie’s own account of the situation. And she’s the one who did it anyway.” Twilight turns to Rainbow Dash with a reminding look.
>”I wanna get good at archery too!” Pinkie announces. “It looks so fun! I want to see if I can get three bullseyes in a row like Trixie did.”
>”I’m pretty sure that takes a lot of practice, Pinkie.” Applejack tells her. “Doesn’t mean you can’t be able to do it one day, though. All ya gotta do is build up some skill and go on from there.”
>”But Trixie did it in a few minutes! I want to know the trick! I can’t wait for a hundred years to be good at archery.”
>”Ugh, it wouldn’t take that long, Pinkie.”
>”I know. It was just an exaggeration. But still, I don’t wanna wait if Trixie found a shortcut.”
>Twilight hesitates for a second. “Maybe Trixie has a special way of figuring things out really fast, Pinkie. Because I’m pretty sure not everyone can shoot multiple bullseyes in a row after only a few minutes of practice. If it were that easy, everyone would be doing it.”
>”She had been practicing since the day before, right?” Fluttershy asks.
>”Maybe. I don’t know that for a fact.” Twilight answers.
>Rainbow Dash remains quiet for the rest of the bus ride until he gets off.
>…
>”So Trixie has ben thinking about getting metal arrows that won’t break so easily.” Trixie scrolls through the sporting good store’s website. “Just curious, do you know of some of the ones with the lowest price?”
>Sugarcoat feels almost too embarrassed to answer. Her stepsister outdid her years and years of archery practice in the backyard yesterday in a matter of minutes.
>And it cost her the archery equipment she had for those years she spent practicing.
>It’s as though she has been bested, and is losing her honor in the face of helping Trixie pick out new archery equipment in the wake of her breaking the previous arrows.
>”Ooh! Trixie likes these silver ones! They match the color of her glorious hair!” She proclaims as Sugarcoat just watches in silence.
>”Well…” Sugarcoat starts off. “You are the one who needs the new equipment. Maybe you should decide with design you want.” Sugarcoat doesn’t even want to look at the arrows that will replace the ones she had before. “It’s not like I have to re-enroll into Crystal Prep all over again or anything like that.”
>Trixie is already ignoring her, scrolling through the page and looking for the most gaudy arrows and other equipment that match her ego. She’s even looking in the section for a new bow, desiring a complete makeover of the kit.
>Sugarcoat sets her backpack down onto the bed and walks out of the room, having finished her homework early so she would have to sit through Trixie’s little ego trip after she got home.
>She goes down to the kitchen and fetches herself a glass of water, not even caring if Trixie watched her walk out of the room.
>A test is sent to Indigo Zap, stating that Trixie is in her room right now and far away from the basement and the backyard.
>[Listen, we only have a small time window to do this. So we better move quick.] Indigo reminds for the tenth time.
>[That doesn’t matter Trixie broke all of the arrows except for one, remember? She’s literally looking up new archery equipment as I’m typing this. She’s not using that one arrow any time soon. I’m pretty sure.]
>[Okay, well I still want to get to the bottom of this.]
>In a couple of minutes, Indigo Zap appears in the front yard. Sugarcoat lets her in, immediately hearing the bedroom door swing open.
>”Who’s that?” Trixie calls down from the bannister on the second floor.
>”Indigo, a friend of mine. From my school. We like to hang out sometimes.” Sugarcoat tells her.
>”Yo.” Indigo calls back up to the blue girl she can barely see leaning on the bannister.
>Trixie nods her head. “Ah, okay. Well nice to meet you.” Trixie pauses for a second and remembers that archery applies to every Crystal Prep student. “Say, Trixie supposes that you know archery too, right?”
>Indigo and Sugarcoat exchange glances and nod in agreement.
>”Oh, that’s wonderful!” Chimes Trixie. “Maybe Trixie can help the two of you brush up on some shooting techniques after she gets her new kit.”
>”M-maybe.” Indigo answers her, internally cursing the girl before the bedroom door can be heard shutting once more.
>Bu that door shutting is the cue to head down to the basement.
>”Let’s go.“ Indigo automatically starts searching for the way down.
 
TRIXIE SELF-INSERT:
>"Trixie, why don't you come sit with us?"
>Twilight looks past her cluster of friends and stares at the blue girl sitting alone on the other end of the table.
>Without even looking back, Trixie proceeds to eat her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
>She doesn't say a word.
>"We have space open." Twilight still continues, wanting to seem as friendly and welcoming as possible.
>"Why's she gotta be so edgy?" Rainbow Dash whispers not-quietly-enough to Applejack.
>Trixie feels a subtle twinge in her spine when she hears this, but shows no indication of having heard anything, as usual.
>"Do you think she's listening to music?" Fluttershy suggests. "There could be an earbud on the other side of her head."
>"She'd still hear us." Twilight stands up from her seat to walk over to Trixie.
>Trixie can already make out Twilight approaching her out of the corner of her eye.
>She internally braces for the awkward conversation to come.
>"Hey."
>Trixie doesn't respond to Twilight until after she sits down next to her.
>"Oh. Hey." Trixie forces something out.
>Twilight leans forward to get a better glimpse of Trixie's face, just so it's more like she's facing her head on. "Why are you sitting here all alone?"
>Trixie stares at her sandwich, losing her appetite already.
>But she doesn't budge.
>"I guess..." Half of her is battling with the other half about whether or not she should be honest to Twilight.
>"Hm?" Twilight takes a short glimpse back to her friends.
>"I guess that I'm not having the best of days, is all."
>Twilight takes note of Trixie's lack of talking in third person.
>It isn't hard to tell that the girl isn't feeling herself right now.
>"Aw, I'm sorry to hear that." Twilight further softens the tone of her voice. "Would you like to come sit with us?"
>Us.
>Trixie already separated it in her head the difference between Twilight's group of friends and herself.
>On so many occasions, the mane six have done so much to not only make people like them, but demonstrate just how many things they are capable of when they work together.
>The magic of friendship; something Trixie is realizing just how badly she underestimated.
>All of those times she ventured out into the world in seek of accomplishment, going about the journey alone.
>Trying to learn how to stand on her own before she was too old and thick headed to learn how to strengthen herself when she's without a companion.
>Figuring out how to stand her own ground before the world hit her like a freight train.
>She never imagined that having friends helping her would make her stronger. It was always assumed that she would be more dependent on others.
>How could Trixie be so wrong?
>She never thought in such a way.
>And now it's the present time.
>Twilight had learned things her way while Trixie had leaned things her own way.
>And the proof is all around; thick in the air.
>Trying to be great on your own really doesn't bear the fruit of success.
>What Twilight did was the right way all along. Making friends and having a shoulder to lean on.
>Something Trixie always avoided to keep from softening herself up.
>What a terrible mistake.
>"Uh... Trixie?" Twilight waves her hand in Trixie's line of sight.
>"Oh, uh. Nah, I'm fine..."
>If Trixie were to go over there with the mane six, the difference would only feel more prevalent.
>They have a bond between one another, something Trixie can't just get immediately.
>She's never tried to really connect with anyone, thinking that it was worth being so lonely most of the time.
>That it would pay off.
>But then came the battle of the bands, and the friendship games, and pretty much everything else that provided insight and comparison between Trixie and the mane six.
>Trixie always thought that her hard work made her the greatest in school.
>Nowadays, she can't imagine why she would be so deluded into thinking that way, but it was still the fact of the matter.
>She thought she was the one who would end up saving everyone.
>The one who would be looked up to as a hero... but it didn't happen.
>Something went wrong. What Trixie had to show for her aspirations just... wasn't enough.
>Didn't make the cut.
>Then Twilight simply swooped in and defeated all of those magical beings like it was nothing.
>As though she had something as powerful as plot armor.
>It just... didn't feel fair.
>Trixie thought that all of the years she spent building herself up was going to do the trick.
>And Trixie was... wrong... to put it lightly.
>And now there is today, where Twilight, with all of her power, friends, popularity, charisma, and everything else she has obtained that Trixie yearned for but never truly had, wants her to come sit with them.
>All that's left in Trixie is spite and the stubborn will to keep trying the things in the only ways she knows.
>She can't help it any more.
>She's lonely, and trying to stay strong is the only way to get herself to become strong enough to get over it.
>"You sure?" Twilight asks. "You look kinda... lonely over here by yourself."
>And Twilight's right.
>Trixie is very lonely.
>But to a degree where she's... addicted to it at this point.
>That's the only way to describe it so it feels like it makes sense.
>The words themselves seem silly, but the feeling they try to illustrate is all too real.
>It's like there's no hope in quickly trying to make new friends at this point; it's too late.
>Twilight got that top status, and Trixie never even came close.
>It's over.
>And all Trixie can do about it is sit at the lunch table and think about what went wrong.
>What she could have done differently.
>Who she could have... gotten to know.
>What she missed out on.
>"Are... you okay?" Twilight's voice grows increasingly concerned.
>Only now does Trixie notice her vision clouding up from the tears struggling to stay in her eyes.
>She prays that Twilight didn't notice yet, and that this conversation can just end now.
>She doesn't want to deal with this.
>"I'm fine." Trixie lies before sniffling. "I just held back a sneeze. That's all."
>That's the excuse she's always used.
>The only one that has proven to be believable... from all of Trixie's experiences.
>"Well, you can come sit with us if you like."
>Twilight's voice alone reminds Trixie of the gesture of someone reaching out a helping hand to someone who isn't feeling their best.
>It just feels too natural to the situation, and that's the thing that makes saying no just a little bit harder for Trixie.
>"I'll be fine, really." Trixie insists.
>Twilight waits for a couple of seconds in case Trixie changes her mind. But her hopes aren't answered. "Alright. Well, we're still over there. Just uh, well, you know." She concludes to a sulking Trixie.
>And with that, Twilight walks back over towards her side of the table, slightly shaking her head to indicate what Trixie's answer was.
>Trixie lets out a sigh of both relief and sadness after she realizes she can go back to eating the sandwich she's no longer hungry for.
>She wishes she could just collect herself enough to go over to that side of the table. To not decline any offers for new friendships.
>But the problem is that there's nothing Trixie can think to say anymore.
>She's grown too used to being alone.
>It's not anyone's fault, other than the blame being relevant to the actions of Trixie herself.
>At least, that's how it feels.
>Trixie wishes everyone can at least ignore her moping until she pulls herself up by her boots one day and get some motivation to electrify her brain again like it had back when she was at the top of her game.
>Before she saw how much better Twilight was doing than her.
>Before she got an accurate comparison between what she thought was glory and what actual glory looked like.
>Before Trixie found out just how wrong she always was.
>So she sits and dwells on the past, probably making plans to write about it at some point. To get whatever words she can out to herself about it.
>Oh look, lunch is over.
>Trixie is the first to stand up to leave. The rest of the girls sitting at the same table as her were too invested in the conversation they were having.
>"Oh hey!" Lavender Lace approaches Trixie with a piece of paper in her hands.
>Trixie already knows what's on the paper.
>"I uh... just wanted you to know that I have everything we need for our show next week. Ordered a couple of hoops on Ebay to set on fire."
>Jumping through hoops. How original.
>No one has ever done that before.
>In multiple senses of the phrase, Trixie has grown tired of jumping through so many hoops for so long.
>Fuchsia blush appears Lavender. "And this set of hoops won't burn away like the last few."
>"Um..." Trixie can't think of an easy way to say it. "How do you girls feels about doing the show without me?"
>It's as though everyone in the hallway heard her.
>Every head in sight turns.
>Do they even care this much when Trixie's on stage?
>They've always appeared to, but Trixie can't be sure whether or not she's truly reached anyone at all.
>"What do you mean? You're... the leader." Fuchsia reminds Trixie, already sounding let down.
>Trixie sighs and stares at the floor in front of her feet. "I'm... I'm sorry. It's just... I'm just not feeling this anymore. You know?"
>The two girls shrug. "What do you mean?" Lavender asks.
>"Well... Trixie is pretty sure you know about how much Twilight and her friends can do nowadays."
>"Yeah, so?" Fuchsia responds. "They've sure done some heavy duty stuff on stage and behind the scenes. And a lot of it saved the school a couple of times."
>"Thanks for the reminder." Trixie tries not to shudder.
>"Well, what's wrong?" Lavender places a hand on Trixie's shoulder.
>Trixie sniffles once again. "I just... there's no way I can compare to that."
>"Whaaaaaat?" Lavender questions in a tone that tries its hardest to lift Trixie's broken spirit.
>"So what if they can do things we can't? So what if they have legit magic on their side? That doesn't mean we can't be great too." Fuchsia joins in.
>Trixie knows why Twilight has magic while she doesn't. Twilight has friendship. Real friendship. Real passion and feelings.
>Meanwhile, Trixie only has... colleagues. Acquaintances.
>"But here's the thing." Trixie tries her best to make them understand as the other students walk around pretending not to listen in.
>"Hm?" Fuchsia leans in as well.
>"The thing that motivated Trixie was her own arrogance." Trixie feels a little bit more herself reminiscing on how she used to be until she remembers that the past is over. "And I... I could do things because I believed I could."
>"You mean... Trixie could do things she believed she could." Lavender tries to her Trixie to talk in her confident third-person self.
>"But I can't anymore." Trixie continues down the same path anyway. "Not after knowing what true greatness looks like! Not after seeing just where I stand in the spectrum!"
>"But we can still amaze people too!" Fuchsia tells Trixie.
>"Not like how Twilight does."
>"But we're not even competing with her! This isn't the Battle of the Bands!"
>"That doesn't matter. The sole thing that kept me going through the show was the... my silly, silly little belief that I was the best."
>The other two can't think of a way to respond. The other students continue to spectate from all directions, newer and newer faces as everyone passes by.
>"Listen, just do the show without me. I'll find a way to make up for it."
>"But... the show has to go on." Lavender tells Trixie.
>"And you can do it without me."
>"It needs to go on WITH you!"
>"But I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I have no confidence left. Only a mindless drive that burns as I live day by day."
>The other two girls soon agree that there's no getting through to Trixie at this time.
>"Okay, well we'll figure things out, then alright? But like... those hoops were expensive, you know..." Lavender brings up.
>Trixie spins around without warning and struts away as she feels her face contort.
>She makes it to her next class before her tears cloud up her eyes too much to see where she's going.
>Every day with this shit.
>At least she got some more attention from the other students this time.