Rainbow Dash stared blankly at the floor as she sat in her chair in the East Cloudsdale Flight School’s office wing. A near-tangible feeling of dread loomed over her like a thundercloud from which lightning could strike at any moment. Every moment that the office door remained closed was both relieving and dismal.

     Her self-pity was interrupted when she heard a pair of ponies settle into the chairs opposite her. She heard the whispering voices of a mother and her son, and she thought she recognized the latter. She stole a sideways glance at the young stallion, awkwardly making eye contact with Dumbbell. “What are you looking at?” he retorted.

     “A stupid failure!” she fired back.

     “Yeah? Well me too!”

     Rainbow couldn’t help but return her gaze to the floor as she nursed her wounded pride. She looked over at the empty seat beside her before breathing out a sigh. She promised herself that was the closest she was going to let herself come to openly crying.

     At last, the office door opened and three pegasi—a young mare and her slightly taller parents—exited. Her mother and father kept telling the grey mare that they were so very proud of her in spite of her academic shortcomings and that they loved her and they would always be there for her. The young mare made not verbal reply, but wiped the tears from her crossed eyes as her mouth formed a smile which failed to hide the pain and disappointment she was so obviously feeling.

     A pegasus stallion with a clipboard ran his spectacled gaze across a list of names before surveying the lobby. “Rainbow Dash and guardian,” he pronounced.

     Rainbow’s ears stood up from her head and her eyes shot across the room. As her gaze crossed the stallion’s, his lips formed a frown. “Is your guardian here with you?”

     “No. He’s at work. And my mom—well—she…”

     The stallion raised a hoof. “I understand. Right this way please, Miss Dash.”

     Rainbow stood up and began crossing the room, but noticed movement from the pair opposite her. She looked over just in time to see Dumbbell holding two of his left wing’s feathers in the shape of an [i]L[/i]. His mother smacked his wing with one of her own and began to quietly scold him. [i]It’s no less than I deserve,[/i] Rainbow thought to herself.

     “Take a seat, Miss Dash,” the stallion instructed as Rainbow closed the door behind her. “Now, I understand your performance at ECFS this year has been—less than exemplary.”

     “Just—go ahead and say it,” Rainbow pleaded. “I’m a failure.”

     “Miss Dash, you are not—”

     “My grades are already set! I know what this meeting is about! You’re here to tell me that I can’t come back next year, aren’t you? I know I failed all those classes; I—I did this to myself!”

     “Miss Dash, please calm down,” the stallion instructed. “As for your academic record, this institution cannot pass you on to the next grade level.”

     “So then, you’re kicking me out?”

     The stallion sighed. “Miss Dash, I have your grades right here in this folder,” he said as he placed a hoof on his desk, “complete with a brief report of your classroom deportment according to each teacher. The one thing that almost all of them have in common is—”

     “I didn’t take my schoolwork seriously. At least, not until it was too late.”

     “And it is because of this reason that this institution must regretfully terminate your—”

     “You [i]can’t[/i] kick me out!” she shouted. “Because I quit!” she yelled as she flew out of the chair.

     “Miss Dash!” the stallion called after her. But Rainbow was already out the door.

     Rainbow had always been a fast flier. After all, she had performed the legendary Sonic Rainboom as a mere preteen. As she flew through the familiar, yet now suddenly hostile, halls of flight school, she wondered if maybe—just maybe—she could fly so fast that she could outrun her past—outrun her failure.

     She doubted she ever would. And in that moment, she broke the promise she’d made to herself; she began to weep for the future she could have had.