~ Eleven ~

Of Snowy Peaks and Cold Shoulders

We clear the woods around midday the next day.

One minute I'm slipping and sliding on the frosty leaves, grabbing frantically at the closest scrawny trunk I can reach, the next we've emerged on the forest borderline, and all I can see for miles is rocky mountain beneath a thin layer of ice.

Behind us, the dark woods are like a forbidding ocean lapping at our heels.

"Thank god for that," Zeke sighs, relieved. "I think that forest was sucking away my soul."

"You never had a soul to begin with," I immediately quip.

Really, he walked right into that one.

He ignores me.

"Well," Jess says, readjusting his pack straps. "The only way to go from here is up. This is Snowtop Mountain. There's a Pokémon Centre at the peak; we should reach it by nightfall if we make good progress this afternoon."

I can't help the little blanch at the thought of resorting to spending the night in a Pokémon Centre – like every other mediocre, no-name Trainer out there – but after four nights in those woods, I'm prepared to sleep in a damn trash can if it's somewhere indoors.

We set off.

I'd complained about the difficulty of hiking in the woods, but it was nothing compared to hiking up an icy mountain. My boots crunch through the thin layer of glassy ice and rake against the stones underneath. Several times I slip, unable to get solid footing on the uneven ground. Three times I roll my right ankle. Twice I roll my left.

I want to stop about half an hour in, but we don't. We can't afford to. There is no way I'm prepared to sleep in a tent tonight.

The afternoon wears on. The longer we struggle, the more my ankles ache. The sun starts dying at about four o'clock, and the more it sets, the more the chill gets into my chest until I'm shivering under all my layers. My lips are dry, my chin is numb, and my teeth feel like icicles when I run my tongue across them.

Darkness in the woods was creepy, but darkness on the mountain is plain miserable. For starters, there are no sounds of life but Zeke and Jesse's footsteps ahead of mine. The only other noise is the wind howling across the peaks – a terribly lonesome sound.

It becomes harder to find solid footing as the darkness creeps in around us. I push on until I stumble one too many times, and crash down into the icy gravel. I'm sure it hurts, but I'm beyond caring.

"You okay, Grace?" Jess calls tiredly, but I can't muster up the energy to reply. Or get up. I just want to curl up and sleep. I don't care if it's cold anymore.

"No," Jess replies firmly, backtracking to where I'm huddled. "Come on – up you get."

"I'm tired," I mumble.

"Me, too," he replies, hauling me up. "We're nearly there, Grace. I promise."

"My ankles hurt."

"Here." He takes my gloved hand firmly in his. "Lean on me if you need. I won't let you fall."

I resolve to be strong enough to keep moving, and not be a burden to him when he's being so supportive. The least I can do is push on. It proves impossible, though I try with all my might; my legs just can't hack it. My knees tremble and cave so violently that poor Jess ends up half-carrying me.

Finally…

"Zeke."

The Jess-Grace-progression has halted. Zeke pauses tiredly and looks over his shoulder. "What?"

Jess murmurs to me. "Come on – drop your pack."

I'm too tired to really understand what he's talking about. He tugs the straps from my shoulders and it crunches in the ice.

"Take her pack."

"What?" A sliver of indignation colours Zeke's voice.

"Come on, man." Jess groans, hauling me up again. God, I feel so pathetic. But my body feels like jelly. And it hurts. Everywhere. "She can't walk anymore. Take her pack."

"You take it," Zeke snaps, folding his arms in refusal.

"I can't take her and her pack anymore," Jess replies. "It's too heavy."

"Grace is light," Zeke argues. I can hear the smirk in his voice. Mind you, to my surprise, he says it almost like it's a compliment to me.

Which can't be right.

"Not with the pack on her back," Jess replies, impatient. "Zeke, just take it. Unless you want to carry her – in which case, sure, I'll take her pack."

Wait, what? Hold up, now. "I'm fine–"

"Shut up, Grace," they say in unison.

"Fine. Give her here."

"Seriously?" Jess' voice is coloured with astonishment.

Zeke acts all cool. "Whatever. You've already dragged her this far. I'll take her for a bit."

It's Jess' turn to sound smug. "Are you sure you're strong enough?"

"Just give her here."

The next second, Zeke's crunching carefully back to us, and I'm transferred from Jess' sturdy arms to Zeke's rigid shoulder.

"Loop your arms around my neck," he grunts, struggling to keep his footing.

Because it's Zeke, I really feel like letting my body go limp, just so he can struggle with my dead weight. But I don't have the heart to do it. Or the energy, truth being told.

And, let's face it, the fact that he's not leaving me to lie in the ice is pretty much a miracle.

I feel my neck flush scarlet in spite of the chill. I'm just grateful he's even helping me. There's no way I'd have been able to make it on my own. So, in that sense, I guess I kind of owe the boys my life, since – with my luck – I probably would have died about three days ago.

In the end, Zeke scoops his arms through his pack and wears it on his chest, hoisting me up like a baby Slakoth on his back.

My last memory is of Zeke's quiet grunts as he puts one foot in front of the other, his breathing erratic – sharp inhalations, shaky exhalations – his breath steaming in the frigid air. His feet crunch in the steadily thickening ice, jolting my chin against his shoulder. I turn my head, resting my cheek against his back, his rhythmic footfalls making me drowsy.

I feel safe. I feel like I can depend on him.

I fall asleep with the first frosty snowflakes kissing my face.

XD

I wake up a second before Jess' voice says my name.

"Grace. Wake up – we're here."

He sounds exhausted. Under my lazily draped arms, Zeke's shoulders are trembling – from cold or tiredness, I can't tell. I open my eyes, and in the foggy bleariness I can make out the bright lights of a small building.

White flecks drift down thickly, en masse, like someone's just ripped open a sky-sized pillow and its feathers are tumbling lightly to the earth in an eternal stream.

"It's snowing," I murmur in wonder.

"Yep," Jess says. He dumps his pack and lowers his voice. "Here, let me take her."

I'm prised off Zeke's back and carried through a set of glass doors, which glide open with a welcoming blast of delightfully warm air. It sounds like a hospital – monitors whir quietly, machines beep in distant rooms – and smells like warmth, like hot cocoa and open fires.

"Oh, my!" says a gentle voice in alarm. "Is this an emergency?"

"No," Jess' voice says. "She's okay. She just needs to sleep for about a week."

I half-smile sleepily at the joke.

"Bring her through – I'll set up a room right away."

I'm curious about the Pokémon Centre, but not enough for it to eclipse my drowsiness. I don't remember much more than being carried around and being so, so tired. And wishing that we would just arrive wherever the heck we were going already, so I could sleep uninterrupted for a good few months or so.

My legs hit the mattress first, then my hip, shoulder, and finally my head, which sinks into what feels like the softest pillow on the goddamn planet.

I don't know if I'm even given a blanket. I'm already dead to the world.

XD

I think I'm subconsciously aware of my hunger even before I wake up.

When I come to, pale light streams through the single window, across my face, irritating my eyes. I'm sprawled awkwardly across a bottom bunk, half-dangling off it.

I open my eyes and look straight up at the grey roof. Zeke and Jess are nowhere to be found. Faint noises of life babble to my attention from behind the door.

The room is on the claustrophobic side of small, and decidedly uninteresting, consisting only of two wooden bunks and a tall, narrow cupboard that was probably designed to appear to be impersonating oak, but failed. Miserably.

I sit up, yawning long and languid, wondering what the time is.

My tummy rumbles – a steady stream of growling that I'd comfortably bet could intimidate a Charizard. I massage it soothingly.

There, there, little one. You've not been forgotten.

I'm yanking my arms through my lucky sweater when I amble into the Pokémon Centre foyer. Zeke and Jesse are sitting on either sides of a booth (I know – weird, right?), both staring out the wide, clean window.

Jess looks around when I slouch over.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he greets, his eyes flicking almost imperceptively to my hair and back to my face. The tiniest of amused smirks twitches the corner of his mouth.

Ugh. Didn't think about looking in a mirror before emerging from the cave. Whoops.

Oh well.

I grunt and drop onto the bench beside him. He makes no comment about my hair.

"What does that mean?" Jess asks Zeke in mock fascination.

Zeke's sullen gaze doesn't shift. "It's Grace for 'I haven't consumed grease in over twenty-four hours – restore my saturated fat levels before I suffer severe anaphylaxis and prematurely expire."'

"That would be a shame," Jesse muses.

"Indeed," Zeke replies dryly.

Har-di-har, guys. Seriously. I'm dying of starvation here – that's hardly something to joke about.

My stomach gives another almighty rumble. At this rate, I'm going to set off a volcano, or something. Feed me!

Jess claps his hands together, a twinkle in his eye. "Waffles?"

I guess I must look somewhat like a starved Munchlax; he chuckles when my eyes light up in ill-contained excitement. "Waffles?"

"They're serving them in the kit–"

I'm already bouncing away.

When I return, a plate in each hand, Zeke's staring down at his fingers, which are repetitiously fraying the cuff of his hoodie. He's frowning slightly, his eyebrows pulled down over his shadowy blue eyes.

This means something is bothering him.

Why am I not surprised?

Jess frowns in confusion at the two plates. "We've already eaten."

"The serving lady told me I was only allowed one helping," I reply, carefully transferring one plate of waffles to the other for the desired result of a four-story-waffle-tower. "So I pretended one was for you."

Jess' face cracks into a wide grin of part incredulity. "You're actually going to eat four waffles?"

"Don't underestimate her," Zeke interjects moodily.

"And they're only little waffles," I add, stabbing the top one with my fork and holding it up. "See?"

"Grace, that's bigger than your face."

I grin. "That rhymes."

I proceed to contentedly stuff my cheeks. Jess watches on, fascinated.

"Y'know," I say, breaking the silence after swallowing a mouthful of puffy, maple-syrup-waffle. "I have no idea what time it is."

"Time for you to get a watch," Zeke retorts. "Or look at the one you've got."

"It's in the room."

"Well, that's not a very useful place for it, is it?" he sneers coldly.

Wow. What's his problem? Seriously.

"The time," Jess interjects smoothly, probably sensing a disturbance in the water, "is eleven twenty-two. You've just slept thirteen hours."

Holy Miltank. "For real?"

He nods.

I sit back in my chair, dumbfounded. "Well, there you go."

"You were tired," he agrees.

"Ask my back about it," Zeke grumbles. "It hasn't stopped cracking all morning."

"Well, my neck wanted to tell your back to be a bit more comfortable next time," I reply, mock-serious, "but I suggested it just be grateful for the time being, and leave a suggestive feedback letter in the Comments Box later."

Zeke, whose eyes had momentarily flashed furiously up to my face, anger welling behind them, subsides.

Something is definitely off with him this morning. Detective Grace is instantly intrigued.

I glance questioningly at Jess, who just sort of half-shrugs and says nothing.

"So," I say casually. "What's been happening during my winter hibernation?"

"Jack all," Zeke replies shortly.

"That's Zeke for 'Not a whole lot, but a few notably significant tid-bits I'm unwilling to discuss with you because you're going to find them far too interesting for comfort,'" I say to Jess, who grins.

"Shut up," Zeke growls.

"Seriously," I whine, sticking out my bottom lip for added pouty effect. "Why are you so grumpy this morning? I mean, your usual disposition is only a fraction less unpleasant, but why the cruddy attitude?"

"Lay off, Grace."

"Is it raining in Zekeland?" I ask conversationally. "I suppose that could put a damper on things."

"Shut up, Grace."

"Get it?" I mutter in conspirational undertones to Jess. "Damper… Rain… Makes things damp?"

"Yes, I got that, Grace," Jess replies, and pats my head. My tummy flip-flops at the unexpected contact – but it could just be a side effect of excessive waffle consumption within a short period of time. "Very clever of you. Well done."

"Thank you."

Zeke, in the mean time, is scowling darkly at Jesse. "Don't pat her. She's not a Skitty."

Jess looks like he might respond, but seemingly changes his mind, biting his tongue instead. Curious. Now I want to know what he was maybe going to say. I bet it would have shot Zeke's temper through the roof.

"He was just kidding," I reply in Jess' defence. "It was part of the whole infantile-pun thing."

"I know that, you idiot," Zeke snaps spitefully. "I'm not stupid."

I shrug it off, but inside, I'm actually kind of a tiny bit offended. I'm only trying to lighten the mood, after all. And yes, Zeke might be the butt of the joke a little, but he doesn't have to bite my head off.

Jess doesn't look very happy with Zeke; something in his eyes darkens. Catching me watching, he turns and says, "We had our Pokémon checked up this morning."

"Oh?" Surprise colours my voice.

Zeke flashes Jess a warning look. "Applesap."

His tone is even more threatening.

Honestly, if I were Jess right now, I'd stand down.

Just saying. Zeke kind of looks like he might start vomiting fireballs.

Jess, however, ignores him. "Nurse Joy told Zeke his Totodile is overweight."

Zeke slams a fist against the tabletop. I jump, startled.

"I told you not to say anything!"

Jess calmly wipes a squiggle of syrup from the edge of my plate. "I thought divulging to Grace would be okay. It's important she doesn't feed it any more treats… and stuff."

He glances at me slyly from the corner of his eye.

Both of us know damn well I'd never feed that water lizard a stupid treat.

I bite back a laugh. And just as well, too.

"It wasn't your information to divulge!" Zeke growls between his teeth. Obviously Jess wasn't meant to overhear Nurse Joy's prognosis. How unfortunate for Zeke.

But ha. Seriously. It doesn't surprise me in the least that Rex is fat. It's about time Zeke suffered the consequences for his overindulgence of that stupid little reptile.

Zeke shoots Jess a glare of loathing and shoves up from the booth abruptly.

"Where are you going?" I demand reflexively, without stopping to think that I probably shouldn't have asked. My being nosy is only going to inflate his anger further, and he hates feeling crowded, especially when he's pissed off.

My bad.

And it's not like his answer matters, anyway; where exactly does he have to go except for another room somewhere in the Pokémon Centre?

Unless he wants to risk hypothermia and possible death out on the mountain.

But I doubt that.

So I really can't take offense when he snaps, "For God's sake, Grace – it's none of your business!", and storms off.

After a short pause, I turn to Jess. "So that's why he was in a foul mood this morning."

Jess doesn't need to reply.

With an exaggerated sigh, I return to stabbing my waffle tower.

XD

"Hello?"

The Centre lobby is pretty quiet; we're the only Trainers I've seen since we arrived, apart from a backpacker who checked out late this morning.

"Nurse Joy?"

I drum my fingernails against the counter, waiting.

I have no idea if she's even still here. Does Nurse Joy leave after three o'clock? Is manning the Pokémon Centre desk a twenty-four-seven job?

Maybe she's just on a lunch break, or something.

A really late lunch break.

I sigh heavily, blowing my fringe out of my eyes. I'm terribly bored. Jess is snoozing in the room. Zeke's off sulking somewhere.

With no-one to talk to for an hour, and only a few tattered volumes of an academic Pokémon magazine to flip through, coupled with my notoriously limited attention span, it's taken very little time for me to get over having down time.

If I didn't know how cold and treacherous it was out there, I'd probably whine at Zeke until he agreed to hit the road again.

Well, first I would find him.

Then I would tell him off for being a prat.

Then I'd whine about us moving on.

But, since I know how cold and treacherous it is out there, I don't think I will.

"Hello?" I call again, unhopeful.

Why isn't there a bell to ring? Seriously. This is just annoying.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Yay! Finally! "Is there something I can help with?"

Nurse Joy emerges from the depths of the Centre, examining what looks like a printed chart on a clipboard. She puts it down on the counter to smile politely at me.

"I hope so," I reply, tapping the box in my hands. I push it across the counter; she blinks at it in surprise.

"What's this?"

"It's my Pokémon." I lift the lid for her. "Do you know much about Slugma?"

"I'm afraid not," Joy replies with a small frown, taking the Pokéball in her fingers. "The Pokémon around these parts are mostly Ice-types; they're my specialty. But I may be able to answer a general query." She smiles kindly at my disappointed look. "But first, why don't you let me give it a check up?"

Since she's already gone ahead and hooked the ball up to whatever that freaky machine doodad thing is behind her, she might as well. I don't think my protesting would have mattered much, anyway.

"Okay."

For a few moments, she closely examines her computer screen; her oblong spectacles reflect two identical, bluish squares.

"Well, all its vitals are healthy," she reports happily. "There doesn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary. This is quite a healthy Slugma." She retrieves my Pokéball, returning it to me with another friendly smile. "Now, what was it you wanted to know?"

I chew my lip for a second. "It's just…" How do I say it? "El Scorchio – yeah, that's his name; I didn't name him. Anyway, he doesn't eat much. Actually, it's really hard to get him to eat anything. I was just wondering if there was any particular diet for Slugma."

"I'm sorry," Joy replies sadly. "I wish I knew. To be honest, I haven't really had many dealings with Slugma – it's quite rare to come across one up here."

Well. That was a complete waste of time. "Thanks anyway."

"If it's any help," she says as I try to inconspicuously drop El Scorchio's Pokéball in its box without appearing to be in too much pain, "Many Fire-type Pokémon need to have their body temperatures quite closely monitored. To sustain their ability to produce embers at will, they need to be kept at quite a high temperature."

I'm listening. "What happens if their temperature drops?"

"Well," Joy replies, "in extreme cases, the Pokémon can die." Whoa. Back up a bit, there. "Most commonly, though, they just become unwell. It really depends on the power source."

The what now? Too much, too fast! "Power source?"

She nods, her loopy pink pigtails bobbing against her shoulders. "Some Fire-type power sources are internal, and some are external. Slugma, for example, has an internal power source, and Charmander has an external source. It draws fire-power from the flame on its tail."

Yeah. Okay. That's pretty cool.

"I'm not suggesting this is the only explanation," Joy continues, "but it is possible your Slugma might be losing its appetite if its body temperature isn't at its peak. Imagine your body is low in iron; as a result you feel much more tired. Or when you contract a virus, you lose your appetite. This condition is much the same."

Wait. So El Scorchio could actually be really sick right now? "How can you tell if its body temperature is too low?"

"It's more difficult with internal sources," Joy replies, frowning slightly, "because there are fewer symptoms. External sources often experience an obvious change. The flame on Charmander's tail diminishes the worse its condition becomes."

But that's awful. Just thinking about it makes me feel helpless. "But – what can you do? To make it better?"

Joy smiles gently. "There's no need to panic. Your Slugma is perfectly fine. All the Pokémon Centres operate on an international database that provides basic status information for each species of Pokémon. I can tell from checking your Slugma's body temperature that it's within the normal range."

"Any Pokémon Centre can do that?" I ask dubiously. Sounds too good to be true.

She nods cheerfully. "Any Centre, anywhere. Technology these days is quite spectacular."

Indeed.

"Thanks for your help."

"If you have any other questions, don't hesitate to ask."

Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'm done for the day. My brain feels like it's going to explode from information overload. In fact, there's a good chance it's still downloading.

I think I'll just go process for a while.

XD

"Ponyta has an external source," Jess says.

I've been babbling incessantly ever since he woke up, excited by my newfound knowledge. Unsurprisingly, none of what I have to say is new to him.

"Its mane and tail, right?" I guess.

He nods. "And Growlithe has an internal source."

We're sitting side-by-side on the floor in our room, our backs against the wall. Bright light floods through the window, painting a long square on the carpet at our feet.

"How many species of Fire Pokémon are there?" I ask. "I mean, in total?"

I feel him shrug. "I have no idea. Lots."

"Nurse Joy made me realise today I don't know anything about Fire-type Pokémon at all," I say, sharing my private anxiety with him. "Or any Type of Pokémon, for that matter. I don't think I should be training El Scorchio – what if he gets sick and dies because I couldn't take proper care of him?"

"He won't die, Grace," Jess assures me firmly. "And if he got sick, you'd definitely notice. His behaviour would change, for one thing. I'm sure there would be other symptoms, too."

"Of course you can be confident," I say glumly. "You've been around Fire-type Pokémon all your life. It's probably second-nature to you."

"You're over-thinking it," Jess says, nudging my shoulder gently. "Don't freak yourself out, Grace. You're still a rookie, remember? Every Trainer starts somewhere, and nobody knows what they're doing when they first start off. Before you know it, you'll know heaps about El Scorchio." His mouth quirks; he fights to keep a straight face.

I blink at him. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "Do I really have to call him that?"

I sigh. "It's his name. It'd be rude to call him anything else."

"But I just can't take him seriously. Can we nickname him somehow? What about 'Scorch'? Is that okay?"

I look at him. He stares back earnestly.

I cave, my shoulders slumping. "Yeah, okay. I guess. But if he takes offense and burns your face off, I'm going to say I warned you."

Jess grins. "Deal. I'm calling him Scorch from now on."

We fall silent. El Scorchio's Pokéball box is sitting on my pillow, where I left it. I gaze at it contemplatively for a while.

Then Jess shifts, and breaks my concentration.

I sigh. "I suppose I'd better go find Zeke. We need to sort out what we're doing tomorrow."

He grimaces at me as I clamber to my feet. "Good luck."

I grimace back. "Thanks."

XD

"Zeke?"

I poke my head around the door of what looks like a small room for practise matches. The white lines on the floor create the markings of a field.

He's sitting against the wall, his arms flopped over his knees, a Pokéball dangling precariously in his fingers. I assume it's Rex's.

He remains that way, even when I step inside and close over the door.

I bite my lip, feeling kind of awkward. I don't know if I should look at him or look away, talk to him or at him, or if I should just walk back out again.

He can be so hard to read sometimes.

"What are you doing?" I ask tentatively. My voice bounces off the walls.

He says nothing.

Fiddling awkwardly with the draw-string of my sweatpants, I cross the floor and sit down near him. For a long moment, I just glance at him, hoping he'll look up so I can offer him a tentative smile. But he doesn't.

"For what it's worth," I say, "I don't think Rex looks fat at all. You can't even tell."

"Go away, Grace," Zeke says in a low voice.

A month ago, I would have gone, with pleasure. But walking away right now won't solve anything. So I don't. I just sit there, enduring the silence that Zeke makes no attempt to fill.

"We can't keep fighting like this," I say. He flicks his hair out of his eyes, but still doesn't look at me.

For the love of Smoochum. What's his problem?

I persist. "Zeke?"

"I said go away," he repeats bluntly.

A spark of irritation flares in my chest. I'm so tempted to just get up and storm out, like I'm so used to doing. But I fight the urge. "We need to talk about tomorrow."

"We'll do it tomorrow morning."

"Won't it be a bit late then?"

He sniffs once.

Ugh. He's being such a drama queen. I want so badly to tell him off; to tell him to grow up. "This isn't any way to deal with your problems."

"Shut up."

My temper flares again, more fiercely this time. "Can you not be so rude, please?"

He ignores me. But his eyebrows twitch in a dark frown over his eyes.

I lick my lips and mutter, "I'm just trying to help."

"Did I ask for it?" he snaps, looking me in the eye with such abrupt, fierce coldness that I start where I'm sitting.

Heat floods my cheeks.

"No," he says shortly. "I didn't. And I don't need it, or your pity. So take it elsewhere. I'm so sick of you always playing the heroic mediator. Stop trying to fix everyone's problems – it's not your responsibility; I'm not your charity case. You're not even my real sister, for God's sake! So just go away!"

I shouldn't be, but I'm so shocked that I can't think of anything to say.

He levels a cool glare at me, then looks back down at the Pokéball in his hands.

I struggle to swallow; my mouth has gone dry. "Well."

He says nothing.

I'm surprised to find my eyes are filling with hot tears. And I can't fight them back. Maybe because I'm so unused to being spoken to like that.

I mean, sure, Zeke's pretty mean sometimes, but always in the heat of the moment, when I've pissed him off. When it's forgivable.

And I know it's true – the sister thing – but was that really necessary?

I don't know why I'm reacting like this. But there's a hard lump in my throat, and it hurts like hell trying to fight it.

Struggling against tears and simultaneously trying to speak proves too hard; I make a weird sort of choking noise that gets caught in my throat.

Then I get up. There's no way I'm giving him the satisfaction of seeing he's upset me.

In fact, how did he even get to me in the first place? How did I let him?

I think of a handful of spiteful, dramatic one-liners I could say as I leave, and voice none of them. What's the point? And I'm not that childish, anyway.

At least I have enough pride to resist wiping at the confusing tears dripping down my face until I've shut the door safely behind me.

XD

The next day passes much the same.

Last night, after a hot meal and a long shower, I crashed early and slept through, not even waking when Zeke returned to the room, which happened sometime during the night, because he's sound asleep when I wake up.

I clamber quietly out of bed, a wounded sort of stinging feeling whiplashing through me when I glance at the back of his mussed black hair. I ignore it.

I find Jess in the lobby.

"Morning," he says, watching me with quiet intensity as I sit down. I pretend not to notice. "Or should I say afternoon?"

"How late is it?" I ask, surprised.

"Nearly two."

Holy Miltank! "But I went to bed at, like, ten!"

"Your body's probably catching up on sleep," Jess replies, frowning at me. His hazel eyes watch my face, portraying the concern he's not voicing. "You must've been more exhausted than you realised."

"Well," I reply, shrugging as I take his dinner roll without permission and ripping it in half, "It's not like I've ever hiked through forests and mountains for a week. It's probably a culture shock, or something."

"Maybe," he agrees, and offers me his bowl of soup. "Here. I'll get some more."

We lunch quietly. The soup is nice; some kind of flavoursome broth. I stare out across the glistening slopes, freshly coated with a layer of thick, overnight snowfall.

"What's on your mind?" Jess asks. I drag my eyes away from the view and look at him. His expression is earnest and uninhibited; he knows something is wrong.

I didn't offer him anything last night when I eventually made it back to the room, even though I probably looked terrifyingly unsightly.

I think he knows it's pretty personal, too; he's being very cautious.

I feel kind of guilty for lying to him. "Nothing important. I just… I feel like we should have kept going today, y'know? It feels like we're wasting precious time."

My nerves squirm uncomfortably when he just looks at me. Like he knows I'm not telling the truth. But if he does, he lets it go. "I think it was important that you slept so much. If it's been good for your health, I don't regret falling another day behind."

I sigh, raking my bangs from my face. "It feels like we'll never get there."

"It is a long stretch from Ecruteak to Olivine," Jess agrees. He gives me a gentle smile. "But we're more than halfway there now. And we've climbed Snowtop Mountain. That's the hardest part out of the way. It's all downhill from here." His mouth quirks. "No pun intended."

I can't help but grin at that. He smiles back, a twinkle in his eye.

A comfortable silence passes.

"Question eight?"

I glance up at him. "Go on."

"If you could be anywhere in the whole world right now," he says, watching me carefully, like he already knows what I'm going to say, "Anywhere at all, where would you be?"

I'm quiet for a second, then I look up into his eyes. "Home."

He nods, almost imperceptively. "Why?"

Gah. I'm going to mist up again. I swallow it down. "Travelling around like this is so… exhausting. And it's so hard being stuck with Zeke all the time. I miss my bed, and my clothes, and my safe little routine, even if it was a bit boring. I even miss that stupid, snobby school. Sometimes–" I catch his eye, feeling guilty for some reason "–I wish I'd never left."

His expression doesn't change. "I thought you might say that."

"Don't get me wrong," I add hastily. "I don't wish I'd never met you, or anything like that." I blush, my heart thudding in my chest. "It's just… everything in my life is so new and different now. And I'm not sure I like it. I'm not used to any of this; I don't know how to deal with anything. I was comfortable at home."

"Why are you embarrassed?" Jess asks, his fingers twitching where they're resting on the table. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. What you're feeling is perfectly understandable. You've been thrown off the deep end – some kind of reaction is to be expected."

I draw in a shaky breath. "At least I have nothing to regret. I didn't make this decision; I had no choice. I'm glad I can blame my father."

Something flickers in Jesse's eyes at the mention of my dad. Or maybe it's my tone.

"Grace–"

I cut him off before he can probe any further. "Your turn. Where would you be?"

He looks like he might not let it go, but he does. He doesn't look happy about it; frustration flickers behind his eyes.

To my surprise, it's his turn to shift uncomfortably. "I'd be with my brother."

"Your older one?" I ask, though I already know that's who he's referring to.

Jess nods. "We used to get along really well. I miss him a lot." He licks his lips. "I often wonder where he is, you know? What he's doing. If he thinks about us much."

"I'm sure he does." Not that I'd know. I've never A) been that long or that far away from my family, and B) had much family to miss in the first place.

Jess gives me a sad sort of smile. "He never told any of us. That he wanted to leave, be a proper Trainer, anything. He just… left. I thought he trusted me more than that. We were pals as well as brothers."

I don't know what to say to him. Should I be trying to comfort him? Should I just be a good listener? I'm not sure what a good friend does in this situation.

He gazes at his fork, troubled.

I ask, quietly, "Does it still hurt?"

He glances back up at me. "Not as much as it used to."

Stupid question, Grace.

The expression that flashes momentarily in his eyes makes my heart break a little bit.

I want to hug him.

I don't.

Partly because it would be awkward leaning over the table.

Partly because I've never actually hugged a boy.

I know, right?

"Anyway," Jess says, with an air of finality. "Wherever he is right now, that's where I'd like to be." He nods at my bowl. "Are you finished?"

I nod. He gets up to take our dishes to the kitchen.

I watch him go, thinking he looks awfully lonely all of a sudden.

XD

We set off again the following morning, a hot breakfast and Nurse Joy's cheerful farewell behind us.

Zeke makes no attempt to speak to me, and I don't offer him a chance to.

So we walk in silence.

Thankfully, Jess doesn't catch on to the tense hostility between us; the downhill hike is difficult and requires total concentration. The slope declines sharply, and our feet sink into freezing cold, ankle-deep snow with each step. We have to make sure we don't get distracted; one careless step could result in a broken ankle.

The descent of Snowtop Mountain is surprisingly short. We cover a lot of ground in very little time, perhaps because it's downhill, perhaps because we're just so damned determined to get off the mountain and away from the ice as soon as possible.

Well, I am, anyway.

At any rate, we reach flat ground by lunch time.

I'm so glad to see grass I almost fling myself down and kiss it.

"Shall we take a break?" Jess suggests.

I shrug. "Okay."

He glances at Zeke, who just scowls. "Whatever."

We walk a little ways further, looking for a nice spot to stop and sit. I've just turned to comment to Jess when faint voices drift along to us with the breeze. We glance at each other, curious.

Around the bend we discover two things: the perfect spot for lunch, and two girls that have already claimed it. A red plaid rug is spread on the grass, and they're lounging on it, chatting away easily. They fall silent upon spotting us.

"Hi," I call hesitantly, with an awkward little wave.

Well, it's not like I know what to say in these situations. Should I even say anything, or do you just keep walking?

Kind of seems a bit rude.

"Hey," one of the girls calls back. She looks to be the elder of the two – older than me, at least – with her long hair pulled back in a high ponytail; it falls past her shoulders like a shimmery dark waterfall. She shakes the flyaway bangs out of her eyes. "You guys just come down Snowtop Mountain?"

I nod, glancing at the guys, but for whatever reason, they're both acting mute. Looks like it's up to me. "We left the Snowtop Pokémon Centre this morning."

She looks impressed. "It's a fair hike, isn't it?"

I laugh, a little forced. "Tell me about it."

Gah. This is awkward. I have no idea what to say now.

She jabs a thumb at her companion. "We're just having lunch. You wanna join us?"

I glance at Jess. He shrugs gently.

Great. Thanks for helping.

I turn back and attempt a friendly smile. It comes out shy as all hell, as I knew it would. But it's the best I've got. "Yeah, okay."

It's a bit awkward as we amble over to where they're sitting and dump our packs. We arrange ourselves on the grass – me next to Jess, Zeke away from the lot of us – and pull out the pre-made sandwiches we bought this morning before we left the Pokémon Centre.

Thankfully, the other girl grabs the reins. "I'm Chloe. This is my sister, Ebony."

Ebony looks about twelve, and shares her sister's rich brown hair and dark eyes. She's cut her hair short, though, in a chin-length bob, and is about as socially useful as Zeke and Jess. She just stares at her shoelaces, nibbles at an apple, and says nothing.

"I'm Grace," I reply. "This is Jesse. That–" I nod over at Zeke "–is my brother, Zeke."

"Stepbrother," he snaps shortly.

I ignore him.

"You two don't look alike," Chloe comments amiably.

"Thank god," Zeke mutters.

She gives him am uncomfortable, I'm-not-sure-what-I-should-say-to-that sort of look, and glances back at me.

"Just ignore him," I advise flatly. "Most people do."

He scowls into his lunch.

She smiles, for lack of anything to say, and changes the subject. "So, you guys look pretty young. Shouldn't you be in school?"

Jess magically finds his voice. "Shouldn't you?"

She grins. "We're on our way there, but we got a little sidetracked." She shares a secretive smile with her sister. "We moved to Olivine this summer, and to avoid all the boring packing and unpacking, I took Ebony camping instead. We decided to wig out on the new school for a while."

Jess frowns. "Won't your parents be worried?"

Chloe shrugs. "Probably. I called Mom and told her we're on the way home. It's not like there's anything they can do. And besides–" She shrugs carelessly "–they're too busy being stressed about the move and their new jobs and stuff to be too concerned about school. They probably don't even realise the semester has begun."

Jess looks to me, probably for back up, which I don't offer.

Hey, if they can afford to miss class without it causing trouble, I don't see what the problem is.

Then again, that's probably just because my dad's never paid much attention to my education, either. All he does is pay the fees at the start of the year. I don't think he's ever seen one of my report cards. For all he knows, I could be wigging out every day to play in a punk band.

And starting at a new school? Yuck. I completely understand their being totally nervous.

For the first time ever, Jess scowls at me.

I'm surprised when my stomach feels reflexively unpleasant, and my heart squeezes.

Apparently, I don't like Jess being unhappy with me.

"Um," I rectify, eager to shift the target of that disapproving frown, "You probably shouldn't be avoiding school like this." I think of something even better, and quickly add, "Running away from the problem won't fix it."

Yeah, that's good, Grace.

I glance to Jess for praise, and am rewarded with a twinkle-eyed smile.

That's better.

Chloe, meanwhile, is shrugging. "We'll get there eventually." She tosses her fringe again, and says, "So, what's your story?"

Oh. Um. This is where I become the hypocrite. "Well, we're kind of taking a year off school."

She looks interested. "Why?"

I glance at Zeke, but he refuses to look up. I sigh huffily. "It's a long story. We're travelling to Olivine to catch the ferry to Vermillion City."

And that's all she's getting.

I am not talking about my personal life with strangers.

I realise, though, out of the corner of my eye, that Jess is watching me, too, quietly intrigued, and I feel a stab of guilt for not discussing it with him yet, considering he's shared his personal stuff with me.

Or at least some of it.

Ugh. I'll get around to telling him. Eventually.

"What's in Vermillion City?" Chloe asks, and my cheeks warm.

"Nothing."

She snorts. "Yeah, okay."

I glance sharply at Jess, and he catches my wordless request. Change the subject.

He complies. "So, are you two Pokémon Trainers?"

Chloe perks up. "You bet. I'm training until I'm good enough to beat Jasmine. Then, when I do, I'm leaving school to collect all the Johto League badges and compete in the Silver Convention."

I can see Jess wants to argue, but I shoot him a warning look.

It's not our place to judge, after all.

He obediently backs down.

To my surprise, Zeke pipes up. "So, you think you're pretty good, then?"

Chloe crosses her arms proudly. "I can hold my own."

Zeke gets to his feet. "Prove it."

"What?" I blurt, glancing between them. "Wait–"

"Leave it, Grace," Jess interrupts quietly.

Chloe's already got her fingers clasped around a Pokéball. Her eyes flash with challenge. "With pleasure."

They split, heading for opposing ends of the grassy space, and I sit forward, my interest captured by this unexpected turn of events.

It looks like I'm finally going to actually watch Zeke battle.

This should be interesting.