Authors Note: A story inspired by the fanfic 'Pedestal' except for the fact that I have no idea how this story will end up :D
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or anything made by Game Freak.
To be honest, I never really wanted to be a Pokemon trainer. I actually wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer, or any other profession that earned a decent amount of money. Something that would allow me to live a peaceful life, with a house and family and maybe just the odd pet or two.
It's not that I don't like Pokemon. In fact, I like them a lot, maybe even a bit more so than my classmates. The only problem is, well... I get scared by them easily (but only a little!). Looking at them is fine, but the second they get close, I start getting worried that they might bite my hand off. Or worse.
Needless to say, not exactly the best mindset for a trainer. Whoever heard of a Pokemon trainer being afraid of Pokemon?
Still, the fact that I was scared of Pokemon wouldn't have mattered at all, and I would've gone on admiring them from a distance while going on with my mon-free life if Jesse hadn't decided to blab all over the schoolyard about his new starter Pokemon.
"My dad got him from a breeder," he said proudly, "says it's going to be really strong when it evolves, and I bet it knows tons of cool moves from its parents."
You had to admit, Rex was pretty impressive. Despite its size, the Aron stared at us the way a Skarmory would stare before it swooped down and grabbed whatever prey had happened to cross its path. No one in our class was brave enough to try and pet it.
At any rate, it quickly became apparent that many of us were approaching the age when we could journey out on our own as certified trainers. Jesse had been the oldest in our class; Rex had probably been an early birthday gift from his parents before he set out. That said, talk within our class soon revolved around one topic and one topic only: Pokemon. And not just any Pokemon either. Starter Pokemon.
"I'm getting a Houndour. My cousin has one and it's got this massive fire attack-,"
"Yeah, well I'm going to get a Riolu. My mom knows this guy that sells a lot of rare Pokemon and I heard he's going to give us one for half-price."
"I'd want a Scyther; it has these really huge claws that can cut through anything!"
And so everyone would go around, naming random Pokemon that they'd want for their starter or eventually, their team. Some of them would get them too. Lisa, the smartest kid in our class, received her Aipom a week after Rex's appearance. Owen got his long-awaited Torchic soon after, and it all went downhill from there.
Pretty soon, everyone had gotten a Pokemon and, along with their license, skipped town as soon as they could. Everyone except me, that is. Well... everyone except me and a few other kids, who all got Pokemon anyway because they wanted to be a breeder or a ranger or go into some other Pokemon-related job.
At that point, I'd pretty much taken all I could and decided to get a Pokemon myself. I might be scared to death of them but I sure as heck wasn't going to be the only kid in my class without one. There was just one tiny problem; I didn't have any money. Not even an allowance. The closest I got to hard cash were the couple bucks that Uncle Jared gives me whenever he visits to spend on candy at the dollar store.
So I went and did the next best thing; I asked my mom. "Can I have a Pokemon?"
She just stared at me like I'd grown an extra head, "Why?"
"Cause they're cool," I didn't want to tell her I wanted one because everyone else had gotten a Pokemon already. All I'd get then was a lecture about being jealous or greedy and I was never very fond of those.
Sadly, my mom didn't buy it. "Do you have a specific reason for wanting one?" I squirmed under her gaze like every kid does when their parents know they're lying.
"Yes."
"Then what is it?" There it was; the question. In that moment, I knew I had to come up with a good reason to get my mom to buy a Pokemon for me. Otherwise, I'd have to wait for my birthday (which had already passed) or resort to grovelling and whining (I'm not above using underhanded methods).
The next words that came out of my mouth might've been the stupidest (and perhaps the most brilliant) words that I'd ever uttered in my ten-year old life.
"I want a Pokemon because I want to be a trainer."
She gave that look again, as if she couldn't quite understand what I was saying. I couldn't really believe what I was saying either, and probably would've smacked myself if I hadn't been in the middle of a parental interrogation.
"Well... do you have a particular Pokemon that you want?" I couldn't believe my ears.
"Y-you're really going to get one for me?"
She nodded, her disbelief quickly melting into a smile. "Alright, settle down. I know you're excited but you don't have to squeal about it."
I immediately huffed and crossed my arms. I did not squeal. It was just that my long forgotten tendencies towards Pokemon had chosen that exact moment to come rushing back and had prompted a... yell... to escape my lips.
Even so, I couldn't deny the anticipation of having my very own Pokemon. I'd so far kept my distance from all my classmates' starters because I wasn't sure if they'd bite me or strangle me (or in some cases, both), but I was hoping that this Pokemon, my soon-to-be best friend in the whole world, wouldn't ever hurt me like that.
Oh, how wrong I was.