Lesson 1: Not the best start of the school year
I never knew my father. He left my mother years ago, unaware of her being pregnant he walked out of her, better yet our lives.
I know his name, and I know what he looked like from the pictures my mother seldom showed me. He was a tall and handsome man, a fire blazed in his maroon eyes,
the intensity of it captured in various pictures. Grinning wide in each one of them.
I quickly noticed that he was always in the presence of a Pokémon. According to my mother he loved fire, and everything that had to do with it.
Just like fire he had an unstable personality, you could never predict his behavior, which was often reckless, and a person playing with fire gets burned.
My mother was scared that one day he would get his eyebrows seared off, or that something much worse would happen to him. I could understand his fascination with fire, but there are limits. A person who loves heights doesn't go jumping off bridges either now does he?
So I guess he simply loved nature, or life itself. A rock can produce fire, lightning and its ability to set a forest ablaze, the sun, volcanoes, firelily's and off course fire Pokémon. He loved the latter best. As a trainer he excelled in battle, believing in the destructive power of fire. Years ago, a big event in Johto called the Pokémon League was shown on TV. As a Pokémon fan I was practically glued to the screen, rooting for all kinds of trainers and their Pokémon.
One of them specialized in fire type Pokémon, and after seeing how his Arcanine managed to beat the biggest Gyarados I had ever seen I became a fan of the fire type trainer, hoping he and his Pokémon would win the League.
During that period I started going to primary school, hating it the second I set foot on the playground.
Simply looking at it made me cry like a six year old on her first day of school, which I was.
Because of my heart disorder, the doctors (trying to spare my feelings) preferred the term "my weakened heart" I hadn't been able to start school at the same time as the other children. The playground in front of me was covered in snow, the students had made Christmas decorations.
A cute Munna wearing a Santa hat caught my eye, apparently the girl who had made it liked pink, even the bonnet was colored pink.
The students names were written on their drawings, probably the teacher's doing, I thought shifting my attention from a certain Bianca's vision of a Munna to a beautiful Deerling. It's maker had used the right colors even adjusting the Deerling to its correct winter form.
The name Cheren was written in the left corner, a weird character had been added in the right corner.
I wondered if it was part of the drawing, after all it had the same color as the Deerling's fur so it had to be the boy named Cheren's doing.
Like every transfer student I felt like an intruder.
The other kids won't like me, I thought my eyes watering.
I'll be the new girl.
My mother's eyes hadn't left my face. My sudden interest in the children's drawings had been a good sign, the sudden burst of tears a terrible one.
"The colors hurt my eyes." I lied gesturing towards the colorful snow covered jungle gym.
Knowing I would never be able to climb it without receiving a one way ticket to the town hospital afterwards sucked almost as much as starting school did.
"Ashe", my mother said in a soft and soothing voice,
"I know it's hard, and you probably don't want to hear this right now, but try to enjoy school just a little. You'll make lots of friends I promise, and in here you will learn more about Pokémon."
She crouched down to see my face, and I gave her a piercing look. "Please, don't look at me like that. School is important you know, don't you want to learn how to read and write?"
When I shook my head my mother laughed out loud, "That's not true, remember how angry you were when you found out about grandpa's little joke?"
she asked causing my face to redden in anger just from remembering that day.
It was summer, during the holiday's my mother would take me to Mistralton City to see how the planes took off and to visit her father, my grandpa Michel White.
He loved playing jokes on me. One day he tricked me into eating an extremely sour berry, his Leavanny nicknamed Ivy even took a picture of my face.
On an extremely hot day, I started nagging for an ice cream.
Upon hearing a bell the vendor of the Ice cream van used to alert the kids my nagging increased to a level which was hard to ignore.
My grandpa sighed in what seemed like defeat to me, and I started to break my head on the hard question which ice-cream to pick.
With a grave look on his face he took me on his lap and together we waited for the ice cream van, the sound of its bell growing louder as it approached our waiting spot.
When the colorful car came in sight I happily pulled the sleeve of his shirt,
"Come on grandpa! Don't be a Slowpoke or all the ice cream will be gone!" I yelled bouncing about like an Emolga on caffeine.
Fighting a smile my grandpa feigned a worried look,
"Oh dear that's a bummer." He said shaking his head while crossing his arms.
My eyes flitted between my one and only possibility of cooling myself without hovering in front of an air conditioning like a moron and my grandpa.
"What? What's a bummer?" I asked with an agitated look on my face, to me talking about ice cream meant serious business.
"Well Ashy, you know lots of old people live in this neighborhood do you not?" I nodded, the sound of the bell behind me rang in my ears.
"You see at this time of the day that man doesn't sell ice cream but soup."
"Soup?" I repeated my eyes widening in shock.
"Yes soup." My grandpa confirmed, "Old people, like me, love to eat it."
"So no ice cream then?" I asked a second time, as if his answer would be any different.
"Well you can buy frozen soup, then you can store it back home, does that count as an ice cream?"
I pulled an ugly face, "Off course not silly!"
"Then I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you."
He said, considering the amount of ribs he had broken while keeping himself from laughing out loud. He didn't deny me the ice cream, he would've bought the whole ice cream van if he could, but the frozen dessert was probably loaded with sugar and other stuff not suitable for a child with a heart disorder like his granddaughter.
"How about eating some homemade Oran berry ice cream?" He suggested, secretly relieved when a bright smile reappeared on my face.
Seconds later I sat in my grandpa's little kitchen, too small to reach the ground on my chair I swung my legs back and forth while playing 'I spy' with Ivy. (I spied something white.)
The Pokémon kept pointing towards several objects, the white ribbon in my hair, a big fluffy cloud drifting past the opened door that led to the garden,…
He didn't notice the little salt shaker in the cupboard, it contained a suspicious small amount of white salt grains. My grandpa who ate a spoonful of Oran berry blue ice cream noticed within seconds his ice creams salty flavor. I don't think I had ever laughed so hard, even the usual quiet Ivy laughed out loud.
Recollecting himself from my revenge for the sour berry my grandpa held out his big sun tanned hand,
"Well played." We both said as I shook it.
Spending the holidays at my grandpa's place was always fun. My first day of school wasn't.
Standing in front of the classroom the teacher, a nice looking woman with round glasses too big for her eyes, asked me to introduce myself.
Summoning all my courage I took a step forward and introduced myself as Ashe White. Chattering whispers filled the air, a boy in the back made a comment on the black wristband I wore around my left wrist, and I shot him a cold look.
A cheerful looking girl wearing pink ribbons gave me a sweet smile,
"I like your accent are you from Yohto?" she timidly asked.
The boy sitting next to her rolled his eyes and cut the blonde girl short, "Off course she isn't you airhead, if I didn't know better I would doubt your ability to hear."
He said coolly, his voice had a metallic twang, as if he didn't use it very often.
"She has an English accent so I bet she's from Kanto. Also you can tell by her name, her namesake back in Kanto became a pretty famous Pokémon trainer about twenty years ago."
I gave him a puzzled look, his slanted eyes which were grey in color lacked life, he made an overall bored impression.
Even a blind person would notice that the boy in front of me was a remarkably intelligent person, possibly a child prodigy.
Being intelligent was a good thing, the world needs those, but being intelligent and arrogant about it at the same time wasn't, and the way he talked to the girl sitting next to him was downright insulting. He didn't even attempt to hide the fact that he felt superior towards everyone in the classroom, the teacher included.
"Your name is Cheren right?" I asked, remembering the drawing of a Deerling and the name written underneath.
He nodded, not in the least impressed with my shrewdness. "You should apologize." I continued, my voice almost as cold as his.
Silence fell across the classroom, at that time I had never experienced how loud a silence could be, the teacher standing next to me turned a faint pink and cleared her throat nervously,
"Ashe, maybe you should go to your seat, its next to the window in the back of the class." She said with a careful pat on my back.
Before any of us could move the raven haired boy spoke again,
"I don't think I said anything that could've offended you. Actually you should be the one doing the apologizing part don't you agree?"
Adjusting his glasses he gave me a quick look, sizing me up intellectually.
I always loved a challenge and I wasn't going to disappoint him or his expectations. Taking a deep breath I made my way over to his desk,
"Okay here's the deal. I'll apologize, don't really know why I'm doing it, so I'll be the bigger person here and that's a lot coming from a six year old.
I'm really sorry… that you are a smartass little prick who insults a person who's obviously close to him."
And with that I marched towards my seat with a straight back, luckily I sat in the back row or the secretive looks the other kids gave me would've burned holes in my school uniform.
Bianca giggled earning herself one of Cheren's angry looks in return,
"Haha… S-Sorry but Cheren you couldn't have looked more surprised if Zekrom and Reshiram barged into our classroom right this minute.
I believe you just made a new friend." She added with a sly wink.
The boy snorted in disbelief turning his attention towards the blackboard. As usual he knew all the answers, and as usual he didn't care to answer the teacher's questions. A little smile appeared on his lips when he thought about the new girl, she was rather interesting. Apart from Bianca she might be interesting enough for him to befriend. She might be, Cheren thought carefully turning his head to see the new girl's face.
The person concerned wasn't seeing the brighter side of the story. Not only had I made an enemy, I was afraid I had ruined every chance of making new friends what so ever.
Me and my big mouth, I acted like a spoiled little brat, I thought on my way back home, kicking a can of soda and almost hitting a wild Pidove in the progress.
Back then even a natural born optimist like me felt like crawling under a rock for at least a few years.
Not the best start of the school year, I thought fiddling with my wristband. That motion wasn't a habit just yet.
Exactly how long does primary school last?