Hello everyone! It's been a while since my last story on here, almost exactly a year since I finished my last one. Hope everyone who has read my other stories enjoys this, and if you're new feel free to check out my profile for links to other stories by me. I don't know how often I will be updating, it may be anywhere between 2-3 days or 2-3 weeks between uploads.
I swung the sword bodily, my weight augmenting the force of the blow. It clanked off the shield of the evil knight, knocking him backwards. I pressed the attack, following up with a vicious upwards strike. My opponent felled, I stood victorious, triumphant- and then the bell rang.
My eyes snapped open, reminding me of my true location: a highschool classroom, not the glorious battles of my mindscape. The other kids were slowly streaming out of the classroom "Tobias?" My teacher called out my name, and I groaned internally. "Could I talk to you for a second?" I walked up to the teacher's desk, looking down at my shoes. "You fell asleep in class again, is something going on at home?" He asked. I stole a glance at the teacher, Mr. Gladstone. His ill-fitting tan suit shifting as he adjusted himself, the 40 some odd year old precalculus teacher was gazing intently at me.
"Not really." I answered "Just tired. Haven't been sleeping well." I spoke in short, incomplete sentenced, desperate to get out of the room. It would be disrespectful to let on that I found the class boring, but with each passing second it became more and more tempting to say.
Mr. Gladstone looked me up and down, and I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. I looked back down at my shoes, my eyes picking apart the uneven knot I had tied on the left one. "I'm worried about you, ever since your dad died your grades have been slipping." My stomach dropped. It must have bled through to my expression as Mr. Gladstone 's eyes widened. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have-" He began, before I cut him off.
"It's fine." I murmured, before turning away and moving for the door. He didn't move to stop me. Stepping out into the hallway, I moved in a daze. Flowing with the rush of the crowd, making my way to my last class of the day. It was this class I dreaded most of all; the last forty minutes of the school day.
The end of school drags out over the course of what feels as if it were hours, made worse by the people in the class. I took a seat in the front left of the classroom, as far away from him as I could be. I glanced around, and there he was, smirking at me from the back of the room. I turned away, praying that nothing would come of it. My eyes turned to the clock on the wall, slowly ticking away, removed from the oppressive air of the classroom.
"Alright class, today we are going to cover the mythology of the legendary pokemon.", intoned our teacher, an elderly woman by the name of Mrs. Harper. Everyone in the room except apparently her knew that this class was pointless. Anyone who wanted to become a pokemon trainer would have set off on their adventure a long time ago. Everyone still here either couldn't or had no drive to. I fell into the former. My family was not well off and we couldn't afford all of the supplies I would need for such a journey. My mind drifted away, far from the constraints of the school's brick walls, back to my mindscape's battlefield.
As class ended, I made sure that I left after he did, lingering as I rifled through my bag, looking for nothing in particular. Once I was sure he had gone, I left myself, making a beeline to the nearest door, praying he had gone the other direction. My hope was in vain. No sooner had I left the building that I felt a shove from behind and I was sent sprawling on the ground. I pushed myself up off the ground, wincing as I put weight on my scraped hand.
I forced myself to look at him. He was leaning against the wall, his designer jeans and $300 jacket only adding hateful fire to the image of cruelty that he was. I had never learned his name, that was my one small victory over him. He had it all - money, powerful parents, freedom - it was the least I could do to deprive him one thing. In one hand he held a pokeball, inlaid with what was no doubt pure gold.
He clicked the button on the ball, not even glancing at it. He was still staring at me with the same air of contempt as before. The pokemon inside was released, and I recognized it almost immediately as a growlithe. It growled at me, and my heart quickened. He wouldn't attack me with a pokemon, how could he?. He snorted a bit, grin widening. "Growlithe, fuck him up."
An instant later there was a sharp pain in my leg and I reflexively kicked at the little demon dog attempting to chew off my leg as I yelled out in pain. There was a muffled yelp, and I felt the pressure on my leg release. I ran away, adrenaline numbing my pain, for now.
Once I was out of sight of the school I stopped, breathing ragged. I looked down at the bite on my leg. It hurt like a bitch, but it hadn't manage to puncture my skin through my jeans. Despite the pain it had inflicted on me I felt bad for the pokemon more than anything. It was stuck with it's owner for the rest of it's life, when I at least had a chance to run away.
I shifted my weight from one foot to another, wincing as the pain redoubled with the pressure. I set off once more, limping home, feeling more and more sorry for myself. What had I ever done to set him off on me? What was I going to tell my mom? If I told the truth she would take it up with the school, it would take a ton of time and then nothing would happen because his dad would pull some strings. I wished I could tell her the truth though. She always said that the only thing I could do that she couldn't forgive was lie to her. I closed my eyes and grimaced. Either way, she wasn't gonna be happy when she got home.