.
.
I'm not sure why I did it.
Maybe I just went funny in the head for a bit. That happens, right? Once I got loopy as a spinda off some candy I scrounged and I just started dancing in the streets with the weird dancing boys. Sammy still teases me for it.
I don't know why I challenged her. I mean, she was a One, with an official starter and her badge gleaming and her clothes like the ones in the pokemon trainer posters.
"When I met Cindy I just knew," she was telling a few other kids. "I mean, we clicked. And Cindy's just a real fighter. She's gonna smoke out the gyms, all in a row, whoomph!" She makes a motion and the kids smile. "Professor Ivy said that Cindy has an adamant nature," the girl goes on, "and that will make her attack really strong."
"Hey," I say. I speak too quietly and they don't hear, but instead of walking away it makes me angry. Like, I'm standing there, and they're just talking and laughing and not noticing me, and somehow it gets me mad and I say, louder, "Hey!"
The girl turns. "Is someone? Oh, hey. Uh."
"Wanta battle," I say.
"Sure." Her confused look turns eager. "Yeah, we'd love to."
"Clear off," one of her friends shouts. "Gonna have a battle." A loose crowd gathers around us and the area clears.
"I'll start of with Cindy!" she says, throwing the pokeball high into the air. "Oh, and I'm Sarah. I don't think I got your name – ?"
"Lena," I say. "Uh." I open the pokeball and send out rattatta.
"Okay, Cindy," Sarah says to her tepig.
"Pig-e-pig," it says, tail flicking up and forth, eyes shining.
"Let's start strong. Use flame wheel!"
Champ and I stare transfixed as a ball of fire rushes towards us. All Champ's attacks just rush out of my head. At the last moment I manage to say, "Dodge," and Champ darts to the side, eyes wide and wild. There aren't any fire pokemon in the sewers at home. I know I should call an attack now, but I'm too fraidy. What if it bursts into flame again? Then Champ'll get burned.
Sarah waits a few seconds for me to respond, but when I don't she gives half shrug and says, "Ember."
This time the fire flies. "D-dodge," I say again. "Uh. Go by a tree." She won't send the fire by the tree, right?
"Tackle it," she says.
"Quick move," I say, a bit more steady. "Then bite it."My voice goes up a little high on the word "bite." I half-notice that I've got my nails pressing too hard into my palms.
Champ's in the air when she says, "Smog" and then Champ's in a dark cloud of smoke, coughing and coughing.
"Finish with flame wheel," she says and this time the fire ball hits Champ straight on and sends him back a few feet, into the grass. He doesn't get up.
"Champ!" I say. "Champ, Champ, Champ." By his side, I can see that he's not badly hurt, just singed and weak.
"Got any more pokemon?" Sarah asks.
"No." I say.
"Oh. Then, good battle!" She walks over and smiles at us. "Your rattatta's a fast little guy. Better get him to the pokecenter quick." When she holds out her hand I count out some poke into it, the least I think I can give. She gives me a bright smile again and walks away with her friends.
I blink after her for a moment, because she's nice.
But I think I hate her. I hate them, the other kids who are turning back to their talk about winning the league, the hobbyists who smile when they give up their poke, the way they all smile when they lose, like losing is okay, like it's a game.
"It's not a game to me," I tell nobody. Then I put Champ in the pokeball and take off for the poke center at a run.