This is just an idea I got, nothing too awesome in it.

Chapter One: It's Only the Beginning

Hi, my name is Hilda White. Yes, I'm that Hilda the one with chestnut brown hair and aqua blue eyes. And no, this is not gonna be a typical story of how I go on my Pokémon journey, for my mom is kind of… reprimanding if you know what I mean. She's scared to let me go on my Pokémon journey even though I'm thirteen and I was supposed to go on my journey three years back. This is my second year at Kontor High and my best friend is Bianca Chiranuy. She is cute, funny and optimistic, but still weird in a way. She always has been, ever since she marched into my classroom seven years ago, wearing pink wellies, reindeer antlers and boldly timid look in her big olive eyes. She pitched up in Kontor like a small tornado, and she's been like that ever since. It's Monday morning, and Bianca skipped down the aisle of the school bus, a vision in pink eye shadow and light pink lipstick. She's wearing a grey school skirt which has been snipped off to make it absolutely the shortest in school and long stripy pink and black socks that reach up over her skinny knees. On her feet are two pink ten inch platform shoes. Ouch. And her jacket is a huge drooping pink school blazer like something your grandma might have worn in 1947. Where her school badge once was, she stitched on a Bullet for My Valentine patch, slightly squint. And on her blonde head was a pink beret. She was on a one-woman mission to overthrow school uniform or redesign it as her own version of pink girlie chic. She is thirteen years old, like me

'Like the socks,' my brother Hilbert called from the back seat of the bus. A few kids snigger, and Bianca sticks her tongue out at him, but hey, my brother probably does like the socks. He is fourteen years old and lately I have seen a moonstruck, fuzzy expression seep over his face whenever Bianca is around.

I haven't mentioned this to Bianca yet. I don't want to scare her.

She slides into the seat beside me. Her hair, even more yellow with the golden sunlight peeking through the window, had a few random stripes of hot pink.

'Major news!' She says, eyes sparkling with excitement. 'I mean, seriously major, Hilda! You will never guess what happened yesterday!' Yesterday, Bianca was meant to come round to my place to hang out, use my computer for her English homework and download the latest episode of her favorite show. Mikelly and Dave don't have a computer or television in their house and Bianca gets withdrawal symptoms sometimes. At the last minute, she rang to cancel. I didn't mind too much, but Hilbert was crushed, all dressed up in his best jeans and hoodie, hair gelled into hedgehog spikes and trailing a cloud of noxious aftershave. He's got it bad.

'So,' I said, tugging at Bianca's blazer sleeve. 'What was it all about? Tell me!'

She settled into her seat, breaking a stick of bubblegum in half so we can share. 'Guess what? Mikelly and Dave are only going to foster a new kid! After all this time!' Bianca and her little brother, Brett, started out being fostered, but their family, Mikelly and Dave, got the legal bits sorted and adopted them for keeps a few years back. If you saw the Chiranuy family, you'd never guess they weren't related. They are a perfect fit – the whole bunch of them are seriously flaky.

'No way!' I grinned. 'A new kid? Is that good or bad?'

'Oh good, definitely,' Bianca laughed. 'His name is N Harmonia. Mysterious huh? The social workers said he's from a troubled background, whatever that is, but they imagine he'll settle in great with Mikelly and Dave. They brought him yesterday. Cool or what?'

'Cool. How old is he? Will he be a friend for Brett?'

'Nah,' Bianca said. 'N's older than us – fourteen. He'll be in S3. Maybe Hilbert can look out for him? He's really cute, if he weren't my new foster brother I'd be all over him!' Bianca giggled.

My brother, Hilbert, is a pain in the ass, but he's funny and streetwise and popular with the other kids. And in spite of the teasing, he'd do anything for Bianca.

'Why don't you ask Hilbert?' I suggested. 'I think he'd do it.'

'I will. N's starting school today, but Mikelly drove him in early to get the paperwork done, and talk to Mr. Malinque and the to the guidance teachers and everyone.'

The bus lurched to a halt and a sea of rackety teenagers rolled down the aisle. Bianca and I take our time. It's January. It's only just light out there and definitely sub-zero, so what's the hurry? Bianca stands up, my brother, Hilbert, just happens to be in the aisle behind her.

'Imagine seeing you girls here,' he said carelessly, as if he hadn't spent a whole week planning this exact moment. 'After you Bianca.'

'Why, thank you Hilbert.' Bianca said sweetly.

Hilbert moves smoothly along behind her, hitting me in the arm with his backpack, so I know the sudden attack of good manners doesn't extend to me. Bianca was telling Hilbert about the new foster-kid, and by the time we spill out, shivering, on to the frosty pavements, she's got him to promise he'll keep an eye on N Harmonia.

'Oh Hilbert thanks!' Bianca exclaimed, fluttering her eyelashes and laying it on thick. 'I knew I could count on you.' By the time she turns away from him, my brother is bright pink and grinning like a madman. No change there. We link arms and saunter up towards the school gates, giggling.

'Your brother blushed,' Bianca tells me, although just about everyone south of the region must have spotted the beacon that is Hilbert's face. 'D'you think he likes me?'

'Just a bit.'

'Whoa.' Bianca laughed. 'Don't know if I can handle that!'

'Don't know if I can!' Then we spot Mr. Malinque, the Head, patrolling the school gates. We stop dead in our tracks. Mr. Malinque and Bianca Chiranuy do not see eye to eye. His aim in life is to stamp out all signs of rebellion, disorder and individuality. School uniform offences are punishable by death, or week-long detentions, anyhow. Bianca does not stand a chance.

'We'll sneak in through the staff car park,' I decided, dragging Bianca along the pavement, away from the main gates. Bianca looked glum, because she enjoys arguing about school uniform with Mr. Malinque. Since she started at Kontor High School last August, he had to write two new clauses into the school uniform list. The first outlaws pink miniskirts, the second declares that cat collars and studded wristbands may not be worn on school premises.

'Freak,' spat out an S4 guy as we dodge past him.

'Loser,' Bianca responded automatically. When I look over my shoulder, I saw Hilbert giving the S4 boy a row for picking on Bianca and I had to smile.

We sneaked through the teachers' car park and skirted around the back of the dinner halls. A piquant aroma of boiled cabbage and custard assaults us from the kitchen, even though it's barely ten to nine.

'What's that noise?' Bianca demanded suddenly, frowning.

'Can't hear anything. C'mon Bianca, we can't be late.'

Bianca is standing still, her face anxious, eyes scanning the kitchen yard with it its piles of cardboard, plastic crates and a trio of dustbins huddled near the wall.

'I heard something,' she insisted.

'I didn't.' I huffed. It was so cold the words seemed to gather in the air before me; a small white cloud, like Kyurem's breath. 'Bianca, its freezing. Can we just go now?'

She shakes her head, putting a finger to her lips. Exasperated, I shivered inside my duffel coat.

'What kind of noise?' I asked. In the stillness I can hear the sound of kids shouting in the distance, and someone scraping a pan inside the kitchen. Behind us, Professor Juniper's clapped out VW Beetle wheezes across the car park and shudders to a halt.

'Shhh.'

The school bell clatters out then, and Professor Juniper rushes past us, white and red checked scarf flapping, on her way to the art block.

'Hurry up, girls,' she grinned. 'You'll be late. Later than me even!' She disappeared around the corner, but Bianca still wouldn't budge.

And then I hear it: a thin, mewling cry that's coming from the dustbins. Bianca's there in a flash, tipping up the lids, rooting through the rubbish. Scrunched up kitchen roll and long strips of cellophane down onto the concrete.

'Hilda,' she breathed. 'Look Hilda, just look at what I've found.' Together we peered inside the third bin. They're in among vegetable peelings and the cold baked beans, curled in a squashed up cardboard box, chucked out in the freezing cold January morning like rubbish. Three tiny, shivering, green-eyed Purrloin.

Okay chapter one is done!