Chapter Three: Too Small
Like three weeks ago, the Rizoni's basement throbbed with heavy metal guitar shredding. Like three weeks ago, students packed themselves around the food tables, slurping down soda, grinding chips into powder between their teeth, kissing, copping feels, whispering in each others' ears in a way that made them sound louder than the music. And like three weeks ago, two pokemon stared each other down in the bare concrete ring, scratching and biting at each other until one fell.
But unlike three weeks ago, Sam paid no attention to it. He neither heard the sound of claws tearing through skin and the yelps of a poochyena, nor did he see a sandshrew bristle its spines the moment before it unfurled a barrage of poison needles.
Within the mind of Samuel Milone, the world around him ceased to exist. Though his journal was closed, all he saw were an endless sea of specific, complex and nuanced questions, and his faltering, chaotic, rushed responses. Though he did not write, all he heard was the sound of pencil scratching on paper, echoing through his skull and shaking his brain. And though the exam had ended yesterday, all he felt was the beating of his own heart, the sensation of a pencil between his fingers, and beads of sweat rolling down his furrowed brow.
A hand shook his shoulder. He looked up at Jaunty Joe and returned to reality. "Is something happening?"
"You're up next. But before that, I need to talk to you. In private."
Sam followed him out of the basement, up the stairs, and into a bathroom. Joe turned on the faucet and slathered soap all over his hands.
"Matt's got a lot of people betting on him," he said as he scrubbed. "There's over two grand on him, and odds are two to one in your favor. I can't afford a four-grand hit, Sam."
Joe held the bottle of soap towards him. Sam held out his hands, and Joe squirted a dollop of lemon-scented soap onto his hands. The soap formed pale yellow bubbles as Sam rinsed it off.
"You won't have to. I'm not losing to Matt anytime soon."
"I don't know… he's got something planned to have this many people backing him. Just in case, I want you to take this."
Joe set a pokeball on the sink. "That spearow isn't much, but it'll give you fighting coverage, and it's one tough son of a bitch. Dad gave it to me, in case I ever needed to tip a match."
"I won't need it. Thanks though."
Joe turned up the water and rinsed his face under the faucet. Then he rubbed his face dry with a hand towel. "You do remember what happened last time, right? That match could've ended differently if you weren't so lucky."
"That was no luck," Sam said. "He didn't stand a chance, and neither does Matt."
"There is four-fucking-thousand dollars on the line here Sam! Take the goddamn spearow and win!"
"I won't. I will only use Luna, and I won't lose. If you're so worried, then cancel the match. One spearow isn't going to change anything."
Joe strangled the hand towel, and then he hung it up and turned off the water. "It's your ass if you lose," he said. "Remember that."
Joe walked out of the bathroom, leaving Sam alone. He turned the faucet back on and stared into the mirror. The angle of the lights made a shadow fall over the mirror's surface, casting his face in a dark mask.
"I won't lose," he told himself, "and to prove it, I'll show them all exactly what I'm capable of."
Sam knocked four times on the basement door, and a football player let him in. He grabbed a root beer, swallowed it all in one chug, crunched it up, and tossed it onto the floor. Then he sauntered into the ring and called out Luna."
"Right, let's do this. No holding back today Luna. Let's show them what we can do."
Luna glanced back, at first shocked, but then a huge grin lit up her face. She crouched and kicked up concrete dust with her paws.
"I hear you're talking a big game, Matt," Sam said. "I'm going to make you eat those words."
"That's what you think!" Matt called back. "Let's go zigzagoon!"
The announcer stood at the center of the ring and spoke through a megaphone. "This will be a four-on-one battle between Matt and Sam, with two-to-one odds. If you'd like to wager, now's your last chance.
After a moment, the announcer started the match. Sam snapped his fingers, and Luna raced forward, knocking the zigzagoon into the crowd.
"That's a knockout!" the referee called. "Zigzagoon is now unable to battle."
Half the crowd cheered at the lightning-fast victory. The other half watched in silence. A few looked worried, but most had smiles on their faces.
"Let's see you knock my geodude out of the ring!"
Matt called out his craggy pokemon, and it hunkered down on the concrete. Once the announcer signaled the start of the next round, Sam snapped his fingers again. This time, Luna's quick attack glanced off of the geodude's rocky outside.
"Ha!" Matt scoffed. "This one won't be so easy. Now use rock throw!"
The geodude tore a chunk off its own body and hurled it towards Luna. She leapt over it and flung a barrage of stars. They hissed and sparked against the geodude without leaving a scratch.
"We can do this all day. Rock throw!"
"Now Luna, spin it with double kick!"
Luna sidestepped the rock and dashed up to the geodude. Its arms still outstretched, it couldn't defend itself against Luna's paws. A well-placed kick made it spin top wise, and the geodude got more and more disoriented each time Luna spun it in a new direction. Brown flakes chipped off of the geodude's skin with each kick.
"Use harden!" Geodude tucked in its arms and tightened its muscles. The chips stopped falling, but the geodude still spun fast enough for its craggy body to turn into a smooth brown blur.
"Now jump into the air and kick it into the ground!" Luna leapt up and double-kicked it. The geodude's spinning lurched to a stop as Luna pressed its face against the ground. It flailed its arms and tried to push up, but Luna had it pinned.
"Don't let up! Double kick!"
Matt shouted command after command at the geodude, but nothing stopped Luna from gouging chip after chip out of the geodude's back. Sam smiled until the geodude managed to shift its face out from under the concrete. Blood was smeared across its stony surface.
"Stop!" Sam shouted. "Get off!" Luna leapt off and walked back towards him. The geodude pushed itself off the ground and glared at Luna.
"Sweet, we're still in this! Alright geodude, rock polish and then mega punch!"
The geodude, already worn smooth by all the spinning, honed itself into a sleek punching machine. It raced forward, and Luna took a grazing hit as she leapt aside.
"That's it," Sam muttered. "No more mercy." Then he shouted, "Iron tail!"
Luna bunched up her tail in a gleaming, solid mass and swung it up under the geodude. Her tail connected with a solid chunk, and the geodude touched the ceiling before it hit the ground. It groaned as Matt called it back. The crowd roared with cheering, and Matt's crowd lost the smiles on their faces until Matt gave them a thumbs up. Matt called out his next pokemon, an aron.
"Luna, iron tail combo!" Sam shouted as the third round started. Luna dashed forward and jumped, spun in the air, and slammed her tail into the aron's head with a metallic clang. Then she sprung up, landed on the ceiling, and jumped at the aron. Each time she hit the aron, leaving dents and scratches all along its body, she sprang back to the ceiling for the next attack. Luna made ten solid hits before Sam saw an opening. The aron bent its head forward to hide its eyes, exposing a thin, fragile, rocky plating behind its head.
"Now Luna, back of the neck!"
Luna sprang off the ceiling and landed a solid hit at the aron's exposed nape. The aron's head lurched forward, and it collapsed. The referee ran into the ring, examined the aron's neck, and sprayed super potion.
"Alright," the announcer said, "Now we're on to the final round! Let's see how Matt's torchic fares against Luna the lightning eevee!"
Another cheer roared out from both sides of the crowd. Matt gave Sam a cocky grin and threw his last pokeball forward.
"Come on out Blaze!"
Half the crowd fell silent when they saw Blaze. The other half kept cheering. Blaze the combusken stretched its legs and spat embers from its mouth. The referee ran over to Jaunty Joe, and they spoke for a moment before Joe called Sam over.
"I can't believe Matt's such an idiot," Joe said. "I can cancel the match because he didn't report the evolution. However, his crowd won't be happy."
"Well, what do you want to do?"
"If you won, they wouldn't be mad about the match being cancelled. But looking at Luna… I don't think she has it in her."
Luna crouched and glared at her opponent, but her legs shook and her chest heaved with fast, heavy breaths.
Sam looked at his eevee, then at the combusken. "If he thinks that a freshly evolved combusken has any chance," Sam said, "Then he's in for a surprise."
Joe stared at the ring and ran a hand through his sticky, goopy hair. Then he sighed and said, "Well, normally I'd stop you, but after seeing that iron tail, well, I want to see what other tricks you've got. Kick his ass, Sam."
Joe held out a fist, and Sam bumped it. Bits of hair gel stuck to Sam's fingers.
"Consider it kicked, Jaunty Joe. The decibel meter has a better chance of beating me than he does."
Sam walked back to the ring, and Joe had his two football players set up fiberglass screens around the ring's perimeter. The crowd pressed themselves against the walls as the referee started the match.
"Luna, use swift!" A volley of stars sailed towards Blaze, but embers burned them to nothing.
"Blaze, double kick!" The combusken raced forward and lashed out with its legs. Luna ran underneath the attack and moved to the other side of the ring.
"Keep your distance, and don't let up with swift," Sam called. Luna sent out a more widely spread barrage of stars, and a few made it through Blaze's screen of embers. The stars slammed into the combusken's legs, making it wobble.
"Alright, quick attack!" Luna raced forward and slammed into the combusken's chest, knocking it back into the screens.
"Double kick, now!" Matt ordered. The combusken pushed itself off the fiberglass and ran for Luna, but she leapt around the attack.
"Again, swift!" Luna flung another volley of stars, and this time, each one connected with the Blaze's backside. It knelt on the ground and pushed itself back up.
"Drive it to the glass with ember!"
Luna sprinted to the side, but Blaze cut off her escape with a flurry of fire. The combusken strode closer and closer as it boxed Luna in.
"Now, double kick!"
As the combusken shifted its weight, Sam saw where its strike would fall. "Dodge right, and sweep its left leg with iron tail!"
Luna took a grazing hit as she leapt aside, and then she bunched up her tail and slammed it into Blaze's shin. The combusken hopped up and down, massaging its bruised leg, and Luna struck at its other leg. However, Blaze jumped at the last moment and landed on both legs.
"Rush in and scratch it," Matt ordered.
"Block with a double kick!"
Luna knocked back the combusken's arm and followed up with a close-range swift barrage. Blaze teetered back, breathing heavily. Sam saw flickers of fire in its beak and ordered Luna to back away.
"Alright Blaze, light 'em up!"
This time, the combusken's ember packed far more heat, and it consumed Luna's swift attack. Luna dodged by leaping high over the flames, but it left her in the air for Blaze's second ember.
Sam smiled as he saw the combusken prepare the decisive blow. He grimaced when he thought of the decibel meter, but then he gave the order.
"Luna, use shadow ball!"
As she fell, Luna gathered a sphere of nebulous dark energy, drawing power from all the shadows in the room. Then she flung it forward, and it smashed through Blaze's flames before careening into its chest. Blaze flew into the fiberglass and tipped it back, shot up the slick panel, hit the ceiling, and fell into the crowd. It tried to stand, but its legs wouldn't stop shaking.
"That's a–" the referee started to call, but Matt's crowd called for a sound check. Joe and the referee played back the decibel meter, Joe hit a few buttons on the device, and then the referee said, "After further review, Sam's last attack did not exceed ninety decibels. Therefore, the victory goes to Sam!"
Matt's crowd groaned and booed, but Jaunty Joe blasted an airhorn.
"However, Matt also didn't tell us his torchic evolved. Since his team was bad to begin with, the match is cancelled. Everyone gets back their bets on this match."
That announcement pacified the crowd, and after they collected their wagers and polished off the food on the tables, they drifted out of the basement, until only Sam and Jaunty Joe's crew remained behind. Joe walked up to him and clapped him on the back.
"Holy shit man, that was amazing! When the hell did you teach Luna shadow ball?"
"It took a while, and a lot of research," Sam answered. "I can't believe we stayed under the noise limit."
Joe smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, about that, you actually did go over. Ninety-two decibels, to be exact. I fudged the numbers a bit so no one's gonna notice."
"Well, like I said, if anything was gonna beat me, it'd be the decibel meter. Too bad I won't be able to use shadow ball anymore."
"Don't be so sure about that." Jaunty Joe handed Sam an envelope full of cash, with a street name and a time written on it. "You're too good for the kiddy ring. Why don't you try my dad's ring instead? You'd make a lot more than fifty bucks a match."
Sam took the money and counted it. Then he said, "Thanks, but I don't want any real trouble. I'll stay here for now."
Jaunty Joe frowned. "Alright, but so you know, I won't be able to get anyone to bet on your matches after this. Nobody here can top what you did tonight."
"That's fine. I won't be here much longer anyways. See ya in a few weeks."
Sam counted his earnings as he walked home. Once he was in his bedroom, Sam almost threw away the envelope, but the thought of his mother finding it made him keep it with his money. He tried to sleep, but even after the night's excitement, all he could think about was that exam.
Chapter Four: Bittersweet
In classroom 305, to the sound of tennis balls twanging off of nylon and acrylic, the drama club brainstormed ideas for the summer play. Character sketches and plot themes cluttered the chalkboard, but whenever the writing club came up with an idea, the art club would point out the cost of hand-making fifty costumes, and anytime the art club brought up a set of props they had in storage, the actors would insist it had to be fresh and new.
As the debate raged back and forth, Sam stared at a wall. To his eyes, the wall was covered with questions and answers and echoed with the scratching of pencil on paper.
Someone shook his shoulder, snapping him out of his daydream. "Sam!" Emily shouted in his ear. "Snap out of it! Jesus Christ, I thought you were dead!"
"What is it?" Sam asked.
"What is it? I was calling your name for a whole minute!"
"Oh. Sorry."
Emily sighed and said, "You should go home and rest. You haven't been yourself lately."
"Can't. The meeting's at four."
"What meeti– oh. Oh. Uh, maybe you should get some water. You look pale as a sheet."
"No thanks," Sam answered blankly. "I'm fine."
"Uh, okay then. Do you, do you have any thoughts on what we should do?"
"Anything's fine."
"Oh really?" one of the students asked. "Then how about you play a damsel in distress, with the pretty pink princess outfit from last year's winter production?"
Sam turned back towards the wall and said, "Works for me."
The student frowned and said, "Oh wow, something really is wrong with him."
"Guys, give him some space," Emily said. Then she placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "It's not the end of the world, Sam. Even if you don't get in at Yvenna, there'll be plenty of other schools that'll take you in. So, just hang in there, okay?"
Sam looked up at the clock. The time was five to four. He stood up and left without a word, leaving his backpack behind. By the time Emily noticed and ran after him, he had already turned down the hall and vanished from sight.
Sam arrived at the principal's office at four o clock exact. The room was sparsely furnished, with a plain, clean desk, four chairs, and two potted ferns. Brandon was already waiting in the farthest chair, staring down at his hands, and the principal, a stern old man with a neatly trimmed gray mustache, piercing brown eyes, and an angular chin, smiled and gestured towards the empty chairs. Sam took the one farthest from Brandon.
"Well boys, here are your exams," he said, handing each of them a thick, heavy booklet. Sam swallowed, rubbed sweat out of his eyes, and opened his booklet with a trembling, sticky hand. His heart sank when he saw a neat, small, black fifty-one percent written in the final score box. He glanced over at Brandon, and Sam reluctantly held up his score. Brandon revealed his forty-nine, and Sam felt a wave of relief wash over him.
"I must say, boys, the professors were impressed," the principal said. "That's the entry exam for graduate students, and they averaged a thirty-seven. Overall, you'd rank fifth and sixth, respectively, out of everyone who took the exam. You should be proud of the results."
"So," Sam said, "Does that mean?"
The principal smiled even wider and said, "Yes, Sam, you won the scholarship. Congratulations!"
The principal held out his hand, and Sam nervously took it. The man's wedding ring felt icy against his skin, and his hand felt like the vapor from a refrigerator.
Then the principal turned towards Brandon and said, "While you haven't won the scholarship, you were accepted into Yvenna as well. As I understand it, you shouldn't have any financial problems, which is quite fortunate. Money has been dreadfully tight this year, with Sinex pulling funding from the education board."
"Wait, they're pulling funds from education?" Brandon asked. "Why?"
"It's not just education. Many government programs are going through major budget slashes." Then the principal frowned and said, "Oh, that reminds me. I have some bad news for you Sam."
Sam felt a shiver run through his gut. "What is it?"
"Because of all the budget cuts, the school board was forced to reduce the size of the scholarship, to fifty-thousand dollars. There are student loan options available, but even with those, you'll only have half of what you need. I'm sorry, and if there was anything I could do to help, I would. I hope that either your parents or other scholarship options will be able to get you the finances you need."
Sam didn't answer. Instead, he looked through his exam booklet. Most of his answers got partial credit, with added details and deletions marked in red ink. For the one answer he had gotten completely right, about the effects of wind farms on bird migrations, the words "well done" were written next to his answer.
"Thank you," Sam said. "I have to go now."
"Oh, alright. Information about the scholarship was emailed to you, don't forget to read it."
Sam left the school, but he didn't return home. Instead, he went to the Checkered Café, nestled in the corner of two shopping center streets. Every surface, from its walls to its floors and tables and chairs, had a black and white checker pattern. However, all the surfaces were done in different shades, sizes, and textures that made the café appear to have a wider variety of colors, including rustic wooden brown in the walls, faded forest green on the ceiling, and a vibrant tile floor that intensified all the other subtler hues.
Sam took an empty booth and glanced across the restaurant. A young couple shared cups of tea, and an older, grizzled gentleman sipped black coffee as he read a newspaper. A flash of gold made Sam stare at the old man longer, and after a minute, he glimpsed the man's police badge, tucked underneath his coat.
A checker-clad waitress holding a pot of tea walked up to his table and said, "Welcome back Sam! Great to see you again! How've you been?"
"Better. The usual please."
The waitress' smile vanished, and she poured him a mug of green tea, then she took a sugar packet out of her pocket and poured it in. Sam took a spoon from her and stirred it.
"So, what happened? I haven't seen you around lately."
"Had a big exam," he said. "Didn't go well."
"Oh, you failed? Wow, I don't know what to say. You studied so hard for it."
Sam didn't correct her. He drained all the tea in his mug and held it out for a refill. The waitress poured him another cup, and Sam took it without the sugar. The waitress opened her mouth, but then she shook her head and turned around.
"Well, I better check on the others," Sam muttered to himself as he opened his tablet. He searched through his list of scholarship entries and clicked the links. Scholarship after scholarship had funding pulled, and with their apologies, were cancelled. Even the smaller options, financed by wealthy patrons, apologized for being unable to support all the applicants they received. Every single one of Sam's scholarships sent him an email telling him there would be no money for his dream.
Sam slumped back in his chair and brought the mug up to his lips, but only air poured into his mouth. He looked into the mug before setting it down. A moment later, the waitress took the mug, refilled it, added two helpings of sugar, and set a slice of chocolate cake in front of him.
"On the house," she told him with a smile. "I figured our favorite customer could use a pick-me-up."
"Oh. Thanks."
Sam took a bite of the cake without tasting it. "Delicious," he said.
The waitress gave him a smile and walked away. Sam scarfed down the rest of the cake, drained the tea, and put twenty dollars on the table. After a pause, Sam dug five more dollars out of his pocket and added them to the pile.
He walked home, clutching the exam booklet in his hands. He opened the door and ran upstairs, but his mother called him back down.
"Sam, honey, you have a guest. Come downstairs!"
Sam paused in front of his door. Then he went to the stairs and peeked down. Emily waved from the kitchen table, holding his backpack in front of her.
"Hey Sam! You didn't come back for this, so I thought I'd bring it over to your place, and you weren't home yet, so I thought I'd wait for you. So, how'd it go?"
Sam stepped downstairs and bitterly said, "I won."
"Oh, that's wonderful sweetie!" his mother said, squeezing him in a hug. Sam squirmed out and said, "I won, but it doesn't mean a thing. They pulled the funding for it."
Mrs. Milone's face froze. "Wait, what? What do you mean?"
"There's no money. They're only giving me fifty grand."
Sam's mother softly smiled and said, "Well, that's something, right? I'm sure you'll get the rest from other scholarships."
Sam threw his exam onto the table and shouted, "No I won't! There isn't a single god damn scholarship left! None! They all have funding pulled mom!"
"Sam! Watch your language!"
"What are you talking about?" Emily asked.
"Check yours," Sam said. "You'll see."
Emily took out her tablet and checked her email. After a minute, she set it down and said, "That can't be right. I just checked them all two days ago. There's – there's no way. Even the thespian's scholarship… how?"
"It's all gone. It's all gone and there's nothing I can do about it."
His mother placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "We can always take out a loan. We'll make it happen, somehow."
Sam brushed the hand away. "It's a hundred grand, and that doesn't even include textbooks, the apartment, and food, those'll be another sixty. It's not possible."
Except for the gentle hum of the dishwasher, the kitchen fell silent. Emily glanced back and forth between Sam and his mother and said, "I, uh, I should go."
"Oh, yes, here, let me show you the door," Mrs. Milone said. "Stay safe on your way back, okay?"
"Thanks for my backpack," Sam called as the door closed. Before his mother could say anything, Sam ran upstairs and locked his door. He sat down at his desk and rummaged through all his papers and books, flipping through them and rubbing the pages between his fingers. He thought about going out for another cup of tea and checked his wallet. It was empty. Sam closed the curtains and crawled under the bed, digging up the shoebox and prying open the false bottom.
The envelope popped out. Sam read the address and looked it up on his tablet – it led to some alleyway in the outskirts of the city towards the Westside. He took out his tablet and opened up his contacts, but then he put it out away and called out Luna.
"Listen, Luna," Sam told his eevee. "The only way to get into Yvenna is to get serious, but I won't do it if you don't want to. So, Luna, should we do it?"
Luna jumped onto his lap and purred, stroking his arm with her tail. Sam chuckled and said, "Alright, I'll make the call." He pressed the contact button and held up the tablet to his ear.
"Hey Joe, it's Sam," he said. "I changed my mind. Let your dad know I want in."
He could imagine Jaunty Joe grinning and running his fingers through his gel-slicked hair as he said, "Sweet man, pops is gonna be happy."
Sam put away the envelope and sat on the bed with Luna, stroking her fur and staring up into darkness until he fell asleep.
