Apple Bloom looked up from her sketchbook at the sound of a knock at her door.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened enough for Big Mac to peek his head in.

“Hey, big brother,” she said. “What’s up?”

He held up his hand, and dangling at the end of his finger was the key to his truck. Apple Bloom stared for moment until realization struck her.

“Really?!”

He nodded as she rushed past him. Closing the door behind him, he casually followed behind her.

Apple Bloom had been begging him to teach her to drive for months—pretty much since the day she turned fifteen. He’d go through the motions of tapping his chin and looking like he’s thinking about it, but the answer had always been the same:

“Nope.”

It’d gotten to the point that she finally stopped asking, but now it was time for her first driving lesson. She eagerly bounced on her heels next to the truck they’d lovingly dubbed “Big Red”.

True to its name, it was big with a beaten-up red paint job. It was old but still tough enough to get the job done.

Big Mac stepped up and tossed the key to Apple Bloom. She snatched it out of the air and hopped inside as Big Mac got into the passenger seat.

The two buckled up, and Apple Bloom adjusted her seat. Big Mac pointed to the rearview mirror, and she got to work adjusting the mirrors.

“Alright,” Apple Bloom said, putting the key in the ignition, “here goes.” She’d seen Big Mac do it a thousand times, but she couldn’t get the engine to start. The engine grinded until it let out a loud cough, and the scent of petrol filled the cabin.

“Engine’s flooded,” Big Mac said.

Apple Bloom groaned, and following Big Mac’s example, got out of the truck. No sense sitting in the fumes, after all.

She joined Big Mac in the bed of the truck. He was gazing out at the orchard, idly chewing a sprig of wheat. Apple Bloom knew better than to expect small talk from him, so the two waited in silence.

When Big Mac hopped out of the bed, she raced back into the driver’s seat and buckled herself in. Once Big Mac was ready, she put the key back in the ignition.

“Come on, come on, come on!” she growled. The truck lurched and backfired, making the power cut out.

“Ugh!” Apple Bloom groaned. She banged her head against the steering wheel. “Why can’t I get this?! Why can’t I do anything right?!”

Big Mac looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

“What am I doin’ wrong?!” she demanded. “I thought I could get this. I’ve been looking forward to this for months. I thought I could finally find somethin’ I’m good at.” She looked to Big Mac for an answer. “The Crusaders got knocked outta the Battle of the Bands in the second round, our dog-walking business was a total disaster, and we still haven’t lived down what happened at cheerleadin’ tryouts. Why doesn’t anythin’ ever work out?”

Big Mac shifted his gaze out the window.

“You try too hard.”

Apple Bloom blinked. She hadn’t actually expected a response. “At what?”

“Everythin’.”

Apple Bloom sighed. She gently turned the key and applied a steady pressure to the pedal.

The engine finally rumbled to life.

She turned to Big Mac, her face brimming with excitement. He grinned at her and pointed her up the road.

She rode the brake for most of the drive and never even left first-gear, but she drove for the very first time. He had her go all the way up the road to where the dirt met asphalt—a lot farther than she was expecting. But he gave her the signal to turn them around and she brought them back home.

---

Apple Bloom woke up and rubbed her eyes. On her desk was a new box of colored pencils, a fresh sketchbook, and a set of erasers—the really good kind.

She smiled and headed downstairs for breakfast.



Big Mac was rearranging the contents of the cabinets, trying to get to a bowl. A bump from behind made him look down to see arms wrapped around his midsection. He glanced over his shoulder.

Apple Bloom was hugging him tight, her cheek pressed against his back.