Two
Elm
I learned three things in the next five minutes. One, the psychic pokémon was an abra and it could talk with its mind; two, the boy was the son of the man and woman whose names were Ezekiel and Audrey; and three, Oliver was a relatively new trainer too, who started almost a week before my birthday, after three years of study. Lord knows why he came back. Three things they learnt about me in those same five minutes were that one, I was looking to collect my starter from Professor Elm that day, two ... well, that's all they learned that about me, really. They preferred to talk about themselves, and their riches.
I was happy they weren't planning on killing me or anything. I mean, they invited a child stranger into their house. Who does that? Wait, let me rephrase. Who does that, who is not some kind of crazy serial killer or paedophile? But apparently Oliver was known to bring people in off the street, particularly if they looked hungry or tired. Apparently I looked both. Well it had been a fairly early morning. Up at six, ready at half-past seven, flying out at half-past eight and barely eating since just after I woke. I didn't realise how tired and hungry I actually was until they brought it up.
That led to a very filling lunch. Apparently their resident chef had the specialty of Thai food – one of my favourites. I could have eaten bucket loads of his Pad Thai if I hadn't had such a ten-year-old's stomach. Stupid physics. And stupid biology. Stupid science.
"So what starter were you planning on getting?" Audrey asked. Despite her stern demeanour, she was a fairly warm woman. Her blonde bob never moved, even if she shook her head to look at me. So much hairspray had to be unhealthy.
"I dunno," I said, feeling a bit more comfortable around them (not so much the abra, who I could feel poking through my mind in its sleep), and a lot more relieved after I realised there was no poison in the Pad Thai. To be honest, I really hadn't thought about it. I would have liked any, as long as it was mine. But, now I had been put on the spot, I had to reply. "Chikorita? My last choice would be totodile, though..."
"Pokémon training has become infectious these days," said Ezekiel. I nodded and quietly continued eating. "Back when I was your age, we cared more about getting real jobs, like working at the PokéMart. You're old enough to work, aren't you?"
"No, I'm only ten-and-one-month." I tried to be as short as possible. The man looked like he could go on for hours, and if I mimicked the length of his speech, I'd never get my pokémon.
"Oh. Oh well. Training was only for the bravest of kids, too," he continued. "There were a lot of injustices in the world back then. Evil organizations bent on dominating the world, expanding the land and sea, even creating a new world in itself, crazy murderers, followers of the crazy murderers."
"Dad, that was after your time. I was alive back then."
I had no idea what they were talking about.
---
I left an hour later, after a nice rest and a stomach filling. They pointed me in the direction of Professor Elm's laboratory and just to be sure, Oliver escorted me. We didn't talk much, and when we did, it didn't last more than three replies each. I found out that he had stronger pokémon, despite him being a rookie, because of his parents, but that was about it. At the door, he left me and headed towards the western route, while I entered, the butterfree finally appeared, as I had expected.
The first room was a reception, as it should have been. I walked up to the counter, where a blonde woman wearing a white lab coat sat at a computer. Her rectangular glasses reflected me when she looked up, but it wasn't her that spoke.
"Hello there, are you my new apprentice?"
I turned around to see a fairly awkward-looking man with glasses, brown hair (though it seemed to be starting to go gray) and a whole heap of books piled in his hands. Without another word, he thrust the books into my arms and gestured for me to follow him into the back room. I blinked and followed him. Being ten, I didn't know what an apprentice was. I decided to go with the theory that he called all his new trainers his apprentices and stayed quiet while he talked in jargon. I was told to pack away the books into the shelf next to the phials, and for about ten minutes, I was stuck there wondering why I hadn't received my pokémon yet.
After a while, he called me Harriet. That was when I decided to drop the box I was then carrying on the nearest table and speak.
"My name's not Harriet," I said clearly, though there was a bit of a shake to my voice. Professor Elm turned around and bit his lip. "I'm Andy...? Andromeda VanDenPlas? Didn't my dad call?"
Elm bit his lip harder.
"So you're not here for the apprenticeship?" he asked, fiddling with the pens in his coat pocket. I shook my head. "I didn't get any phone call..."
"Well I came here for my first pokémon," I said slowly. "Don't people usually come to you...?"
"Ah, now I remember! Yes, it was your mother that called, not your father." He stared at me with an apologetic look. I knew what that meant, but I denied it until he said, "I'm afraid I'm out of starters."
There was a pause. It was only a few seconds, but it lasted forever. My mind ticked over, thinking about what he had said. Remember how I said obtaining my starter was one of the most dramatic moments of my entire life? This is about where the ten-year-old drama started.
"Wait – what?" Spoiled children had a nasty temper. I flicked my ponytail from my shoulder to my back and stared agitatedly into his eyes. He looked a little taken aback. I guess he didn't usually get this type of treatment when a trainer came for a pokémon. I held a hand up to his face to shut him up as he opened his mouth to speak. "Hold on a second. You're saying I can't have a chikorita, or a cyndaquil or even a totodile?"
"W-well yes," Professor Elm stammered, raising his hands up to try and keep me calm. "I-I can't just send every t-trainer who comes to me off w-with a new chikorita, cyndaquil or totodile, can I? I haven't got the resources, nor can I hatch so many eggs every day." He began to speak louder and clearer, gaining confidence in his argument. "And before you ask, no you can't have a Pokédex. I only had three, and I gave them to three other trainers. This isn't a factory, it's a laboratory."
"Professor... please!"
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to go out and catch your own pokémon, like every other trainer that can't get one from me." He rummaged through the pockets in his lab coat and pulled out a pokéball, holding it out to me as he continued. "Look, I'll even give you a pokéba--!"
"I don't want your pokéball." I furiously slapped the pokéball out of his hand. I had come all the way from Azalea Town for this? I was fairly sure I was ready to punch the professor in the face. "I want a pokémon. That's what I came for, that's what I'm getting."
"I'm sorry, but I can't give you anything. All other pokémon in the lab are being studied, so it'll be a few more weeks before I can even give you one of those."
"I'm not waiting a few more weeks. I had to wait a whole month after my birthday before I could get a flight here; I'm not waiting any more. I want my pokémon now."
Next thing I knew, I was thrown onto some big, purple man's shoulder and carried out of the room, out of the building. The blonde receptionist watched me with relaxed eyes. I was set on my feet, facing away from the building and was expecting a foot in the back to push me away. Thankfully, it didn't come. The big, purple man closed the door behind me and I was left alone, outside the lab again. I spun myself around, inhaled, closed my eyes, and yelled as loudly as my little lungs would allow, "FINE!"
I then continued that notion with, "I'M GOING TO CALL YOUR MANAGER THEN! BETTER YET, I'LL CALL THE HEAD OF YOUR WHOLE... RESEARCH... THING! BETTER YET! I'M GOING TO WRITE A LETTER!"
I heard a few laughs inside (a particularly nervous chuckle I picked up on was obviously Professor Elm's) as I headed off towards the western route where the Pidgeot Man was. Without a word, I climbed into the basket and sulked, while he frantically prepared his bird for flight.
It took an hour and a half to fly home. Instead of stopping in Cherrygrove Town and Violet City, we took a direct route. I could only guess that my radiating anger was what intimidated him into getting me home as fast as possible, because I didn't say a word the entire trip, apart from the extremely short phone call to my parents telling them what time I'd be home and that they'd better not have a welcoming party.
---
Quick Author's Note
Yeah... I watched White Chicks the other night...
OH, AND TEN POINTS F YOU CAN SPOT THE PEDESTAL REFERENCES xD
