Argh! Late for school again!
The Trainer's Academy
“Three shall arise from the infinity of perpetual nox. The triplet brother elements; who hold the very beauty, wisdom and passion of the stars in their heavenly suspension . . . way far above in the diamond skies. . .”
-- Excerpt from Scroll I of the Kyshidian Prophecy, now on display behind impenetrable glass at the Oreburgh Museum.
This was literally the tenth time this month that I had had that gut sensation that nothing less than a three-hour Friday detention awaited me, and that feeling just sank and sank and sank deeper and deeper ‘till I thought I would throw up. I know school started at 7:30, I always set my alarm for that time, but for some strange reason, I just couldn’t get up in the mornings. I sighed wearily as I snatched a black velvet skirt from my orange, Charmander-swarmed blanket draped rather carelessly on my bed. Swiftly I rushed it on, before adjusting my white shirt to ensure the rims fell right over the tippy-top of my ebony skirt and storming downstairs.
I skipped breakfast. I always did. I think it’s morbidly ironic how these supposedly ‘highly-educated’ people tell us that skipping out on breakfast makes us ‘oh-so-irritable,’ when it’s the complete opposite; when I have breakfast, about ten minutes later I start to fuss, because I want more, and that craving lasts all the way until lunch, which unfortunately starts at a very punishing 1:00. I despise the Trainer’s Academy. . .
And now I was sprinting towards that God-forsaken school, panting in exhaustion and with my consciousness just hanging by a thread. . . .no—a single piece of wet spaghetti. Yes, I was running that insanely fast. I looked at my Pokètch. 7:10!
Aw, I wasn’t even halfway there yet, and Mr.Dhenski was already rambling on and on about poaching Walrein for their blubber. . .
I never want to be a Pokèmon Trainer. I’ve told that to my parents about how many times now? And STILL they force me out of Hearthome and into this stupid Trainer’s school. I like Pokèmon, but only the merchandise. Heck, if you stuck even a Skitty out in front of me, I would just turn away in pure distaste . . . but, then again . . . that’s what most everyone at the school does to me. I’m just an outcast in an academy full of unforgiving cliques and unceasingly scolding teachers who don’t give a hoot about their students, only about their popularity and grades. Things were so much different in Hearthome . . .
I was loved by all the students there, no matter what their grade or rank in popularity. I was an A+ student, and absolutely adored by all of my teachers. That had been just a typical everyday school, with typical everyday classes: Science, History, Geography . . . all of the classes a fifteen year-old should be taking, right? Yep. And it was great. Oh, how I would always daydream about being back with my Hearthome friends . . . and Xavier. My God, how I longed for my dearest love Xavier. . .
Anyway, so now I’m crossing the gigantic parking lot to a school where they teaches the classes for Pokèmon Trainers, which I’m thankfully not one of. I mean, seriously, who’s ever heard of the classes Strategy, Training, and Breeding? Good God, it sounds like a damn birthing school. And the instant my parents had enrolled me in that dumb school, the moronic administrators had handed me five Pokèballs, a Pokètch, and a camo bag to carry my items in. Like I was ever going to use the Pokèballs, and the bag is used for my art and writing and the Pokètch I used the Digital Watch application alone. And that’s it.
While these self-proclaimed ‘sexy’ girls were strolling the marble-lined halls of the Trainer’s Academy with Bunearys and Vulpix in their miniature pink purses, I would always just calmly take a seat and start quietly drawing Pokèmon. The real ones, not like all these wimpy ones that all of the other girls seem to think are so adorable until they evolve, and then they go just heartlessly ditch their partners. No, I meant the true Pokèmon, the ones that defined and pretty much summed up the entire race. Like Dragonite, and Sceptile, and Gengar.
I was about to pull open the chestnut door when suddenly I felt a wet, drippy sensation on the back of my neck. I glanced skyward, and saw angry cumulous clouds swirling vivid hues of purple and gray, and gradually building up on each other. At that precise moment, I saw little fragile droplets fall from the clouds and smack the ground before turning into minuscule puddles. Ah great, now it’s raining. . .
just what I needed. I shook my head in disbelief and went inside.
First period, Strategy, was a nightmare. It was okay until being forced by Mr. Dhenski to say a ‘formal apology’ in front of the class. Then it all went downhill. From behind me, Lexy had had her Eevee use Tackle on my head. And when I whipped around, head throbbing painfully from the impact, she had said that her Eevee couldn’t contain her strength and had to show it off. Luckily only two other people noticed that I know of. I had a brain-splitting migraine the entirety of that class.
Breeding was a tad better. Mrs. Tylers had lectured us on using Ditto to help breed genderless Pokèmon. That class wasn’t too bad, very good compared to Strategy, actually. But it would have been better if that nose-picking nerd Trey hadn’t farted twenty-thousand times, a feat so impressive that it astonished and startled even the teacher’s Stuntank.
As for Training class, we were assigned partners for practicing double battles. Gratefully I was with a really, really cute guy named George. He was wearing black stockings, and a dark gray suit. His perfectly straight black hair fell down over glistening eyes of frosty blue. Left of his boot-shielded foot perched his Gabite. He looked as if he had been training Pokèmon forever, and he sure battled like it, too.
We were pitted against Naomi and Derik, both of whom I detested with a burning passion. Naomi had sent out what looked like a miniature lion cub with a cresting black mane draping over its soft blue fur. The tip of its tail had a small starlike fixture, and it sparked and dazzled with electricity. “Kararrrr!” it had screamed its battle cry, and I instantly recognized the electric Pokèmon Luxio. It stood rigid, its head held high, obviously extremely proud of itself. It then lifted an azure paw to its mouth and started licking cautiously.
Derik only snickered maliciously, and threw a gray Pokèball with a distinct orange stripe down its center. The illumination that erupted from the Ultra Ball took the form of a giant, serpentine dragon, body sparkling in ripples from its cerulean scales. Two slender beige whiskers hang lazily from its wide gaping mouth lined with fiercely sharp teeth. A Gyarados! I had never actually seen one, or even a picture of one. But the tales that went through the city were descriptive enough for even dimwitted first graders to recognize one when they happened to see it.
I turned to George. He thrust out a pale hand and pointed at the Gyarados. “Gabite, use Swords Dance, then Agility!” Gabite screeched an eerie ‘Kareee!’ then bent its head low and focused its energy tightly, loosening its muscles and relieving all prior tension. Suddenly, it thrust back up, eyes riveted on its foes.
At that instant, George turned towards me, smiling. “Your move,” he encouraged. I don’t know if I had blushed, but I could have sworn that I had felt warm blood rushing to my face, and seeing how pale-skinned I was, I wouldn’t have been surprised at all if I had turned into a beet-red beacon radiating embarrassment. In the corner of my eye, I could catch a slight glimpse of Naomi and Derik laughing softly in brief murmurs.
“Umm,” I began warily. I didn’t want to embarrass him too, not with how cute he was. “I don’t have any Pokèmon.” There I said it. I closed my eyes tight as they could and wished a huge fissure would appear in the Earth and let me fall forever in its perpetual darkness. Anything to get away from my peers’ screeching laughter. I had expected George to laugh his head off too, but when I dared to open an eye a slit, all I could see was him smiling sympathetically, holding out a red and white ball. I slowly took it with a shaking hand. I caressed it several times, trying to let what had just occurred sink into my mind. “But—“ I began nervously, before he cut me off with a slight raise of his hand. “It’s okay, really!” he chuckled amusingly. I could only return a small, suppressed laugh.
“Pokèball, go!” I shouted, throwing the red-and-white orb as far as I could onto the battlefield. A yellow dog Pokèmon popped out with an extravagant burst of light. Its neck was shielded by white, spiky fur that bristled with the electric energy that streamlined to the very ends of the pins and into the atmosphere where they crackled and let off a distinctive sound of electric discharge. Its hindquarters ended in yellow spikes that I supposed served as a tail of sorts. “Reeeonnn!” it yelped, and I almost jumped back. That was when George came up to me and gently whispered in my left ear, “It’s just Mirage, my Jolteon. She won’t hurt you, but yeah, the popping electricity can be frightening at first.”
I shook myself back to reality, and focused once more on the battle. “Jolteon, use Thunderbolt!” I screamed. The Jolteon’s fur bristled even more, gathering up energy until the rigid pins and needles glowed a deep amber with electricity. “REEEEEEOOOOON!!!” Suddenly, the Joleon let loose all of her tension in the form of a wicked bolt of thunder that crashed down and sparkled elegantly on Derik’s Gyarados like a tidal wave. The blue serpent screeched in its agony, its tongue flailing wildly in the air as it pulled back its head and howled. Then its eyes rolled back into its head, and the giant dragon collapsed on the field. Derik only grunted in defiance, and lifted up his Pokèball, calling back his fallen partner. After turning to Naomi, she attacked. Jolteon only roared in triumph, stamping its paws in its pride.
“Nala, use Ice Fang on Gabite!”She commanded. The Luxio obeyed loyally, opening its mouth wide to reveal about thirty razor-sharp teeth. Suddenly a cold wind blew eerily, and the Luxio’s teeth froze into almost icicles. It lunged forward, screaming “Kareeeeeeee!”. When its paws landed on the verdant grass near George’s Gabite, the dragon quickly did a pivoting maneuver, but the Luxio had already set its icy teeth in its blue arm, which was now turning black and green with the bitter coldness; it just managed to survive the attack. Gabite was panting heavily, with its sharklike head lazily bobbing with each breath.
“Nala, finish it off with Crunch!” the command rang through the still air of the academy stadium and echoed off the stone walls of the building. The Luxio pulled back its head, preparing to strike once more. . .
“Jolteon, get in front of Gabite and use Protect!” I yelled with all of my might. As fast as lightning, Jolteon leaped In front of the injured Gabite the instant before the Crunch hit and surrounded itself and the shark-dragon with a shielding green light. When the attack struck, the barrier negated its power, and the two partners were left unharmed.
What happened next I just couldn’t believe. I heard that Luxio say something along the lines of, “It’s not finished yet, Jolteon. You can’t hold up that shield for long!” She punctuated her remark with a hearty laugh of disdain. Did I just hear that Luxio speaking English!? It couldn’t be. . .
When I snapped back to reality, George was screaming furiously at his Gabite. “Please, Dracos, you have to use Earthquake, even if it means hurting Mirage, it will shred that Luxio of Naomi’s, and we’ll still win.” Gabite only dipped its head, and in the regal voice of a squire, said, “Yes, Master, as you so wish. . . My duty and privilege to serve you.” I shook my head furiously, trying to rid myself of this hellish nightmare. How could I understand what the Pokèmon were saying!?
The Gabite threw up his hands and applied all of his weight to the ground and caused a massive tremor to ripple in the Earth. A confinement of soil, rocks, and magma sprouted up and hit the Luxio with a force so great that it was instantly knocked unconscious. It fell limply to the quaking ground. Naomi only growled menacingly. Jolteon was hit by the impressive fissure as well, and also being an electric-type, was wiped out. After the shaking had ceased, we all called back our Pokèmon. Naomi and Derik were absolutely furious, and just stalked off the battlefield in defeat and shame.
I turned to George. “We did it!” I exclaimed zealously, and wrapped him in my arms. Only then did I realize what I was doing, and released my grip. “A-hem,” I started. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Hey, no worries,” he shrugged carelessly. “Besides, you’d make a great trainer. I bet you should go tomorrow and get yourself your own Pokèmon! It’d be cool.” He took a finger and pulled his long black bangs out of his face to reveal those glimmering eyes of frost.
“Ah, no,” I said, careful not to deter him too much. “I don’t get along well with Pokèmon, and—“
He then stared down at me with bulging eyes. “What do you mean, ‘don’t get along well’? You’re a natural! Hey, maybe with a little practice, you may stand a chance against the Gym Leaders .”
“No. That was just a fluke, and . . .”
“A lucky fluke.”
I was really becoming frustrated now. “Yes. A lucky fluke that is unlikely to ever happen again, so why take the chance?” I then walked off in anger, and left George standing alone on the battlefield in disbelief.
I felt terrible. I had just left that really cute guy hanging like that while I was still trying to fabricate a logical reason for the Pokèmon’s sudden speaking in English. Obviously, George didn’t hear it, else he would have said something. So maybe. . . I have a gift
? Maybe he was
right—maybe I am
destined to become a Pokèmon Trainer. I wanted to go back to the academy and apologize for just telling him off. But it was too late; surely we would have gone home by now. I sighed.
It was raining again as I reached the street that led to my house, and as I turned the corner, there was a small human-like silhouette on the grass. I gradually inched closer and noticed it was a Pokèmon. It had coarse, scarlet fur, with a weak flame on its back. Its arms and legs lay limp on the verdant blanket of grass. I ran to it, and inspected it.
The fire monkey had bruises everywhere, and its teeth were gritted hard in agony, while in the hard rain the flame on its hindquarters was slowly but surely going out. Instinctively, I picked up the little Pokèmon in my arms, and clutched it tightly to my chest as I sprinted the rest of the way home.
Yeah, the begining of that chapter was kinda bad, but it got better, imho. Ah well, your opinions are the ones that matter, so post away.