Chapter Twenty-Six

Erica wiggled her fingers as Nurse Joy finished testing her blood pressure and removed the device from her arm. There were a few seconds of silence while Joy checked the summary of her notes, and then she cheerfully announced, "You're free to go! Hopefully this is the last I'll see of you for a while!"

"Agreed." After Nurse Joy returned to the front, Erica glanced down at the Pokéball on her belt with a considering frown. Much as she wanted to get back to helping Butterfree solve its problem, whatever that problem was, she couldn't help but feel that she'd earned a few days of Pokémon-free normalcy.

She'd just finished stacking her Get Well Soon cards and securing them with an elastic band when she heard someone walk into the infirmary, and turned to see Jericho standing there. His eyes trailed over the flowers and as-yet-unopened box of chocolates, and were still lingering on them when he began talking, "You've been checked out, then?"

"For now." Erica smiled at him, but when she saw that he was still looking at the gifts she asked rather pointedly, "Would you like a chocolate?"

"Hmm? Oh, no thank you." His attention switched fully to her, "Are you feeling well enough to leave? Every time I stopped by, Nurse Joy said you were either resting or too sick for visitors."

"I feel fine." She finished throwing laundry into the suitcase Lan had brought her and zipped it closed, "Bad as it was, I think this last round dealt me a bigger emotional blow than a physical one."

Jericho frowned, and when he'd moved close enough he reached out and brushed her bangs from her forehead, pressing his palm against it, "Maybe. Maybe not. Poison's no joke, and if it keeps happening it'll wear down your immune system faster each time. It may even weaken it permanently."

"So I'll eat more yogurt."

"Erica..." His hand dropped back to his side, "You can't just hop in a healing cylinder and be fighting fit in half an hour. You're not a Pokémon."

"I'm not? Shoot, and here I thought I was going to evolve soon from all the fights I've been in." She could see the protest forming on his lips, but before he could voice it she answered seriously, "I'll be more careful. No more letting Butterfree out of its ball unless I have someone with a fully cooperative Pokémon with me. How's that?"

"It's a start." A small smile worked its way onto Jericho's face, and he offered, "Let me carry something for you?"

Erica waved a hand at the flowers, "Those, if you don't mind. It's a glass vase."

She could see the questioning expression on his face, but it wasn't until they were loaded up and walking down the hallway that Jericho finally asked, "Are these from Roselyn?"

"No." She watched him sidelong, wondering how he would react as she continued, "They're from Martin. The chocolates too."

Despite only having a side view of his face, she could pinpoint the exact moment when he realized she meant his roommate and his jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed shortly thereafter. Jericho didn't show emotion as easily as the other boys at the school, but she thought that this was perhaps the most irritated she'd ever seen him. They walked in silence for longer than she thought they would before he commented with a flat voice, "That's interesting."

Some part of her wanted to string him along, talking about how Martin had somehow known what her favourite flowers were and that she could inhale seashell chocolates all day long, but she recognized said part of her for what it was and shoved it to the back of her mind, "It was unexpected, but what was I supposed to do? Tell him to cram them up his—"

"No." Jericho shook his head slightly, the anger on his face receding, "No, I know you wouldn't do that."

The incompleteness of his thought hung in the air, and Erica prompted, "But...?"

"But, it makes me wonder what he thinks he's up to." Jericho regarded the flowers with disdain, and for a few worrisome moments Erica thought he might 'accidentally' lose his grip on the vase, but it didn't happen and she was left feeling embarrassed that she'd thought it in the first place. Jericho stopped walking, and as Erica belatedly realized they'd arrived at her room he continued, "I'm having a hard time believing that he got you these just as a concerned friend."

"Yeah, well, you can join the club." Erica knocked on the door, and when there was no answer she concluded that Lan was out somewhere and started digging through her pockets for her keys, "I've been trying to figure Martin out since this semester started."

"I'm going to talk to him. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I'm not a fan of competition." Jericho moved through the door once she'd opened it and set the lilies down on her desk. He turned to go, but Erica had already closed the door. When she locked it he felt a stirring sensation in his gut, "What are you doing?"

Her answer was a smirk.

After a stop at the infirmary turned up nothing but empty beds, Roselyn made her way towards Erica and Lan's room. She'd spent the morning working with her Gengar and helping it adjust to suddenly knowing Psychic. While she was fine with acquiring a Pokémon that only needed TMs to qualify as a fixed project, she couldn't help but feel that her own abilities as a rehabilitator weren't being tested or improved. True, her Gengar was a little wary of its new power and needed her reassurances, but when she thought of the obstacles other students were encountering and solving with their Pokémon she couldn't help but feel that she wasn't on the same level.

"You've done wonderful work today, Gengar," she'd told it as she went about collecting the remnants of TM 29, setting each piece back into the kit and refolding the instructions.

"Gar!" Gengar frolicked over to her, giving her arm a lick before waiting to be summoned back into its Pokéball. She remembered flinching horribly the first time it had done so, thinking that paralysis was about to set in, but it hadn't happened. Gengar's licks, though quite sticky, were ultimately harmless due to its inability to learn moves naturally.

"Let's go see if Erica would be interested in our proposal." Roselyn summoned her ghost Pokémon back into its ball and made her way out of the battle arena.

Unbeknownst to her, the offer she intended to give Erica was the same idea the other girl had already reached; oversight of any and all Erica-Butterfree interactions by someone with a Pokémon who could step into the breach and prevent any further poisoning. With Gengar showing so much progress, she was confident they could make the difference in Erica's attempts to connect with the bug Pokémon.

When she reached Erica's room she gave a light knock on the door. At first there was no response, but shortly after she knocked again, a little harder, she heard someone unlock the door and it opened to reveal a somewhat dishevelled Erica. Roselyn regarded the other girl with an amused smile, "I see you've reverted to all-purple during your time in the infirmary."

"Lan was in charge of bringing me fresh clothes."

"Not that I want there to be a next time, but next time ask me to bring them... for you..." It was at this point Roselyn looked beyond Erica, and saw Jericho finishing the last tug of his shirt back into place. Unlike Erica, who seemed the picture of calm, Jericho's face had a flush across it that appeared to be equal parts attraction and embarrassment.

"I was going to come looking for you, but I know you wanted to work on Gengar before the arenas got too busy." If Erica was at all embarrassed about what Roselyn had interrupted, she gave no sign of it.

Roselyn turned back to Erica, irritated that the corners of her eyes were prickling. Her voice contained a good deal more frost—and was a good deal less controlled—than she intended as she said, "Clearly I've interrupted. My apologies."

Erica blinked, then shook her head, "There's nothing to apologize for."

The confusion on Erica's face only made it worse, and Roselyn turned her shoulder, "If you say so. I suppose I'll see you in class tomorrow."

She started walking, and forced herself to keep going despite Erica's concerned call of, "Roselyn!" behind her. Part of her was worried that Erica would run after her; if that happened, she didn't think she'd be able to keep her composure, and she'd already cried in front of Erica once before. Whether Erica decided against it, or Jericho held her back, she didn't know, but she was able to inhale a deep breath, hold it, and continue walking without her self-control falling apart on her.

By the time she got back to her room she thought she'd regained her composure fairly well, but when she opened the door to Suza and one of the girl's giggling friends Suza immediately pointed out, "You look terrible. What happened?"

"Nothing." Suza's judgement dried her eyes like nothing else could, and she noted the sheet of drawing paper the two girls were giggling over with some disdain, "I wasn't aware you possessed so much as a scrap of artistic ability."

The other girl—what was her name? Roselyn hadn't bothered to pay attention to the names of any of Suza's friends—gave an indignant gasp, but Suza flapped her hand at the girl in a shooing motion before answering, "I didn't draw this. Let's do it, Anna; I'll meet you in the library tomorrow at lunch."

Anna got up and flounced to the door with paper in hand, and Roselyn gave Suza an expectant look, but the pigtailed girl stayed where she was. Once Anna was gone, closing the door with an unnecessarily loud bang as she went, Suza patted the vacated spot beside her on the bed. Roselyn made a point of sitting on her own bed instead, but Suza just got up and bounced over to sit beside her, draping her arms around Roselyn's shoulders, "I'm here for you, my darling roommate. Do tell me what ails you."

"Oh, leave me alone." Roselyn shrugged Suza's arms off her and picked up one of her pillows, hugging it to her chest, "I'd have to be an idiot to make you my confidante."

Suza paused for a moment, as if to make absolutely certain that no one was hiding in their room, before the bubbly cuteness she'd so carefully cultivated from her voice dropped away and she asked, "Is it really that bad?"

Roselyn sighed, hearing the wateriness behind the noise. From the look on Suza's face the other girl heard it too, and she cleared her throat before snapping, "No. It's completely inconsequential to anyone but me; give me half an hour and I'll think it's inconsequential too."

Suza reached over and rubbed her back, "Boy troubles?"

Roselyn frowned, "What did I just say?"

"I know, I know. But most of the time you worry about the stupidest things, and well... if it's boy troubles, I can actually relate." Suza left off rubbing her back to fetch a brush from Roselyn's dresser. Roselyn didn't know what was more surprising; that Suza was apparently making a sincere attempt to comfort her by brushing her hair, or that she was actually letting her. Then she felt the small bubble of sincerity pop as Suza commented, "Besides, I still owe you one for giving me that facial the other night. Those were the worst blackheads of my life."

Roselyn sighed, "You wouldn't get them if you didn't cake your face with so much cheap makeup."

"Well if you let me use your ridiculously expensive makeup, that'd solve everything," Suza suggested. She hadn't been able to decide whether to make her voice bubbly or coy, and the result was an unpersuasive mess. Even she could hear that. "Or maybe get me some for my birthday?"

"Which you've already had."

"Belated present?"

"Suza..."

"Right, right. Roselyn's boy troubles. Well now let's see, just who could the callous gentleman be to bring such an icicle of a girl to the brink of tears?"

Roselyn snorted, "I don't see how you're still single, Suza. You've such a caring way with words."

Suza glowered at the 'still' part of that remark, and let the glower manifest itself in a yank on Roselyn's hair with the brush. The effort was, tragically, a complete waste; Roselyn groomed her hair so thoroughly that the darn stuff didn't have so much as a single tangle in it. "Love conquers all things, Roselyn. I just have to be patient and wait for him to open his eyes and realize what he wants. And what he wants is not some drab with tacky glasses."

"Hmm," Roselyn toyed with the tag on her pillow. "I don't disagree with you, but that doesn't mean he'll suddenly develop a passion for sparkles and venom. That seems to be more Ellison's thing."

"Ellison," Suza pronounced with great dignity, "is a creep."

"He's also the one who bought you that necklace you're wearing and the one who saved you from Muk," Roselyn pointed out. "Not to mention the one who keeps asking you if you want to spend time together."

"He doesn't 'ask'. He lurks around and waits for me to acknowledge him." Suza gave a pointed sniff, discretely tucking the necklace under her neckline, "Besides, we're supposed to be talking about your boy troubles."

"I don't have boy troubles, Suza." Roselyn waved Suza away from her hair, "That's part of my troubles."

She almost felt sorry for Suza, as the other girl was fast sporting a perplexed pout on her face, but she was saved from any further explanation by a timely knock on the door. Suza bounced off her bed and went to answer it, but just before she opened the door she clarified, "Whoever this is, I still loathe being in the same room as you."

"Naturally."

While Lan didn't have morning class like Erica did, she did get up at the same time as her friend. After all, there was Aerodactyl research to be done, and she'd called another meeting at the library for ten o'clock. She didn't know if either Douglass or Ellison would show up, as one liked his sleep and the other liked anything that didn't have to do with Lan, but on this particular morning, with Erica back in good health, she was determined to be optimistic.

"Oh, Erica, before you head out..." Lan rummaged around her desk for the relevant slip of paper and passed it along, "Daddy thought you might want to contact Simeon for some bug-training tips, since he's a type specialist. Here's his information."

One of Erica's eyebrows quirked at her, "You have Simeon's number?"

"For you." Lan's statement was firm, "I only took it because I thought it would help with Butterfree."

"I don't doubt that." Erica wobbled slightly, but it was only Persian pressing against her legs for scratches, "But much as I like your dad, I don't think his real target for this information was me."

Lan offered up several unintelligible grumbles before muttering, "Oh, go to class."

She could still hear Erica's laughter echoing in her head over an hour later, as she fetched a dusty-and-therefore-promising tome from the library shelves. It was quarter past ten, and she'd already written off her partners as no-shows. She was, therefore, very surprised when both of them joined her a few minutes later. Given the profound distaste on Ellison's face, and the fact that they arrived together, she could only guess that Douglass had fetched the other boy from his room or wherever it was he spent his time.

Before they'd even sat down, Ellison sent her a glare from beneath his hat and snapped, "Don't look so surprised. I'm not going to be marked low on group participation just because you call so many of these stupid research sessions."

Lan looked to Douglass for some sort of explanation, but the lazy boy just shrugged and slumped down into a chair beside her, "So, what're we learning today?"

Lan opened the dusty book with a thump, a strange part of her taking pleasure in the fact that the scattering dust made Ellison sneeze, "This is an old collection of scholarly articles. My da... my father references this series all the time in his work, but he has most of the articles memorized so we don't have any copies at the house. I thought we could look through them to see if they have any past theories on Aerodactyl, and see if those theories hold up thirty years later."

Douglass gave an impressed whistle, "This is some hardcore commitment, y'know? Are you going to apply for a research grant when you finish here? You'd qualify for sure."

A giddy bloom formed in Lan's stomach, and she wiggled a little from the praise, "I was thinking so, yes. I know I'm a little young compared to most researchers, but if the ideas are there age shouldn't matter."

She turned to look at Ellison, some part of her knowing that he was on the verge of making a snippy remark, but to her surprise nothing came out. This wasn't from any change of heart, however; from the way his jaw was working, she could tell that he simply couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't come off as sounding exceedingly juvenile. If they were alone he'd probably say it anyway, but with Douglass there Ellison seemed reluctant to do so. Lan didn't think it was just because Douglass was a boy, but whatever the reason she was glad of it.

When the bell for the end of morning classes rang, Ellison slammed the book he was looking through closed and left the library without helping to clean up. Lan gave a disapproving click of her tongue and went about stacking the books on the re-shelving cart the teacher on duty had parked rather pointedly beside their study table. She noticed that Douglass was busy rummaging around in his backpack, and it wasn't until she'd finished with the books that she asked him what he was doing.

He grinned his lazy grin at her, sending her stomach into several different knots, "Got something for you. I was talking to my grandparents the other night and they dropped it in my account."

He finally pulled the kit from his backpack, and presented it with as enthusiastic a 'ta da' as he was capable. Lan took it from him, mild confusion turning to excitement as she realized what it was, "You got me a TM? Thank you! What's TM 44?"

"Guess."

Lan thought about it, trying to think of the moves list she'd consulted so recently, but it was only when she looked at Douglass' lazy face that she started giggling, "It's Rest, isn't it?"

He shot her a thumbs up with his patented half-smile, "You got it. My grandparents took a trip on the S.S. Anne last year and found it in their cabin. Tucked in the corner of the closet, they said. They didn't really have a use for it, so they just kept it in a drawer in their apartment. They're kind of pack rats, y'know?"

Lan could relate, "I'll have to write them a thank you note. And thank you, Douglass! I didn't know how I was going to afford TMs for Persian!"

"Ah, don't worry about it." He gave a lacklustre shrug, "You need it, they don't; it all works out."

"Still, it was nice of them to... wait, you were telling your grandparents about me?" The knots in Lan's stomach turned over and tightened on themselves.

"Sure." What parts of his eyes weren't covered by bangs seemed surprised, "Why wouldn't I? We spend like, every free minute together studying Pokémon."

"I didn't think it was that much..." Lan scuffed her toe against the carpet, very much aware that her cheeks were a healthy red. "But... your grandparents were on the S.S. Anne? Isn't that a cruise line for Pokémon trainers?"

"Yup." Douglass was making eyes at the door, and after Lan scooped up the rest of her notes they started walking, "Gran's got a walker and Gramps is pretty much stone deaf, but they still compete."

"That's so inspiring!" Lan hugged the TM to her chest, trying to imagine herself at age eighty, as invested in Pokémon as she was now. Her mind rewarded her with an almost-identical image of herself, barrette and all, only with grey hair instead of brown and wrinkles all over her face. It dampened her enthusiasm somewhat. Still, she recovered enough to ask him, "I don't suppose you'd help me use this on Persian, would you?"

Douglass scratched under his chin, "I don't really know how they work, to be honest, but I know someone who does."

Lan smiled, "Me too."

"Now, stretch your arms forward and up. Feel the tension leave your body."

Conrad followed Mr. Hartog's directions with as much commitment as he could summon, aware that Poliwrath was watching his every move from the mat beside him and following along only when it deemed that he was fully engaged in the exercise. Despite his best efforts, his earlier statement to Poliwrath that yoga was a valuable mental exercise was being horrendously undercut by Alexa, who was on Conrad's other side and who hadn't stopped complaining since they'd found out what this week's pod exercise was. Her Shellder was sitting at the front of her yoga mat, and for the most part it kept its shell open, lulled into a sense of safety by the gentle music and slow movements.

"I swear, if he makes us do downward dog I'm going to kick whoever's behind me."

Conrad glanced back and saw the eyes of Andrew's Hitmonlee widen. He couldn't help but snort, "I don't think Andrew would appreciate you traumatizing his PokéProject more than it already has been."

"What?" Alexa looked behind her, "Oh. Sorry Hitmonlee. You're fine. But really, what is the point of this?"

Highly aware that Poliwrath was listening, Conrad informed her, "It's less about physical exercise than it is about centering oneself and applying that balance to your outlook on life."

"Oh, blow it out your ass, Conrad." Despite her words, Alexa grinned at him, "God, you look awful."

"Yes, well." Conrad moved into the next demonstrated stance, feeling a sense of immense victory when Poliwrath followed suit, "That would be why Nurse Joy gave me the cream, wouldn't it?"

"Is it also why she slipped that scathing love letter under your door this morning?"

"Heckling will get you nowhere." Conrad maintained the pose with only a slight lifting of his chin, "This is a place of spiritual realignment, not a comedy club."

After making several kissy noises failed to elicit any sort of response from him, Alexa blew a raspberry and went back to copying Mr. Hartog as best as she was able. In a rare moment of assertiveness, Shellder also blew a raspberry at Conrad, and then it snapped its shell shut against any possible repercussions. Alexa grinned down at it, and broke position to lean down and give it a pat.

As the class continued, Conrad felt relaxed enough with the poses to look around the room more. Ginny wasn't far away, encouraging her Tangela to incorporate its vines into the poses and get used to extending and retracting them without snarling them together in the process. Off to the far side of the room was Suza, and he frowned when he saw that the mats beside and behind her were vacant. He hadn't expected her to release her Muk in here, but it seemed odd to see a girl so frequently surrounded by a gaggle of friends to be on her own.

"Somebody's having a hard time making Pink-pod friends." At the sound of Alexa's words Conrad glanced over at her, and she continued, "I heard some of her group talking about her; she's a pain in the neck."

"I could have told them that."

"Yeah? Well apparently she hasn't even bothered learning their names. She keeps calling them Brendan, Steven, and George." Alexa rolled her eyes, "The stupidest part is that one of them isnamed Brendan, but she keeps calling him George instead."

Conrad shook his head. He didn't want to get drawn into the gossip any more than he already had been, for fear of it undermining the burgeoning relationship he'd established with Poliwrath, but some part of him wondered if Suza's obnoxious behaviour was beginning to catch up with her.

As the bell for lunch rang the next day, Lan hurriedly closed her notebook and headed for the door. She'd arranged to meet everyone else in the cafeteria so they could work on their written proposals together, and she didn't want to be late. While she'd already penned a strong argument for Persian's progression, especially now that Douglass had given her a TM, she was prepared to bend all her creative energies into finding a way for Erica to get a second Pokémon. She couldn't help but feel that if Erica got a second Pokémon, she could train it first and then use it to get through to Butterfree. The odds were slim, but she was prepared to play them.

It came as a surprise when she opened the classroom door and saw Lysander and Nikki waiting there for her. She got a mere two seconds to see their facial expressions prior to them seeing her—Lysander uncomfortable and Nikki angry—before both of them plastered overly-bright smiles on their faces and greeted her.

"Lan!" Nikki threw her arms wide and hugged Lan around the shoulders, "It's a beautiful day, and I was thinking of taking a walk around the grounds before my classes start! Come with me?"

Lan peered around Nikki's flawless locks to make eye contact with Lysander, "We were going to work on our project proposals over lunch."

He scuffed a toe on the linoleum, "Oh, well... we can do that..."

"Later." Nikki insisted, making a valiant effort to steer Lan towards the nearest exit. "We're supposed to get a snowstorm later in the week and I want to soak up some winter sun!"

On seeing the clear suspicion on Lan's face Lysander said, "Nikki, I don't think it's working."

"And a fat load of good you did trying to make it!" Nikki turned to snap at him, and that's when Lan saw them.

Flyers. Dozens and dozens of flyers, strewn very pointedly along the hall. Even from where she was standing in the slightly-constrictive circle of Nikki's arms, Lan could see that each flyer had a sketched face across it. She shrugged out of Nikki's hold and moved to pick one of them up, even as the rest of the Purple pod streamed out of the classroom door and set about collecting the flyers themselves.

As she raised the flyer up, Lan felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. There, staring back at her with the attractive eyes she'd made up for him, was the sketch of Ellison she'd spent hours perfecting the previous semester. It even had her stylized signature in the bottom right corner, tucked against the beginnings of his shoulder; her mark of vanity and her undoing. Above and below the drawing were the words "What's under the creeper's hat? Lan wishes she knew!"

Other people from her class were giving her strange looks, and a few offered up derisive snorts at her before heading off to the cafeteria, flyers still in hand. Lan could only stand there staring at it, trying desperately to think of how someone might have got the sketch out of her notebook. It was only as she saw Ellison himself bending to pick up a flyer that she realized: the sketch hadn'tbeen in her notebook. She'd secreted it between her mattress and box spring after drawing it, and when she'd moved rooms for this semester she'd never even thought to retrieve it. Truthfully, she'd forgotten about it entirely.

By this point Ellison had his own copy of the flyer in hand, and even as the frown on his face stretched to previously-unknown severity he crumpled it into a ball and threw it away. Then he turned on Lan, demanding, "What is wrong with you?!"

His voice seemed to come from very far away, and Lan realized that her vision was filling up with water. She could hear Nikki snapping something at Ellison, and Lysander trying to calm the other boy down, but she couldn't make out the words. There was a strange, paralyzing hum going through her head that turned their voices into nonsensical noises.

Then, cutting through the humming and the yelling and the derision, came a very familiar drawl, "Whoa, you drew this from memory?"

Lan stared up at Douglass, eyes leaking water and lip wobbling, but as she nodded Ellison snapped, "It's not 'from memory', it's from her own delusional little fantasy. It looks nothing like me!"

"Really? That's too bad; it makes you look damn sexy, bro."

Lan stared at him. Ellison full-on gaped at him. Lysander looked caught between shock and amusement. Nikki had no such indecision, and burst out laughing. After a few seconds she reined in her mirth and grinned, "He's right, Ellison. This is a really flattering portrayal of you. And it's not entirely off base."

"I don't care!" Ellison sounded as if he were about to throw a tantrum, "I don't want anything to do with Lan! Take a hint!"

"Dude, calm down." Douglass put an arm around Ellison's shoulders, holding out the flyer as if Ellison hadn't looked at it properly before. For some reason Ellison allowed the contact, and Douglass continued, "See? Sexy fine. Besides, I'm pretty sure Lan's not interested anymore. Am-I-right?"

Lan removed her glasses and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, somehow managing to steady her voice as she replied, "Yes. It was just a silly crush from last semester. I'm fully aware that you've always wanted to date Suza."

"You—"

"Besides," Nikki cut in, "Lan obviously wasn't the one who made and distributed these posters. Given past histories, I'm guessing that would be your darling Suza's work. Interesting that she called you a creeper, no?"

Ellison sucked in air, but before he could release it into whatever scathing remark was on the tip of his tongue he froze. Douglass, still consulting the sketch, had reached up and plucked the ever-present hat off Ellison's head. Amidst the general shock that ensued—Lan's coming from finally seeing Ellison's upper face, Ellison's at having his upper face exposed, and Lysander and Nikki's being that Douglass had the nerve to do such a thing—Douglass compared the sketch to what was actually before him and then observed, "Okay, so the eyes are a little small, but other than that..."

Ellison finally pulled free from Douglass' arm, snatching his hat and cramming it back onto his head before storming off down the hall. Lan stared after him, unable to help the feeling that this was her fault as several girls came around the corner, each one holding a flyer, and giggled as they saw Ellison. She looked down at the flyer still in her hands and sighed.

Balancing a tray in one hand, Lysander knocked on the door to his shared bedroom. He'd canvassed the other students in the cafeteria to see if Ellison had come down for dinner, but no one remembered seeing him. Even the ladies behind the serving counters couldn't recall if he'd been down or not, and more than one had asked who Ellison was. And so here he was, carrying a tray loaded with one of everything served that evening and knocking on his own door to be sure he didn't catch Ellison unawares.

He was on the point of getting his keys out when he heard the door unlock, and a small crack appeared between it and its frame. Ellison's sulky voice dropped an ungracious, "What?"

"Dinner!" Lysander remarked, moving the tray of food into sight, "Plus I live here."

"..."

Ellison moved away from the door, and in short order Lysander was setting out the different plates of food on their desks. Once Ellison chose what he wanted Lysander took what was left, and they ate in a silence that started uncomfortably but gradually shifted to companionable. Soon enough Ellison looked like he wanted to say something, or at least have Lysander say something so he could snap at him, but when Lysander stayed silent it only left the former option.

"I wouldn't have thought Nikki was your type."

Lysander tipped his head, "My type?"

Ellison frowned at him, "Of girl."

"..." Lysander frowned right back, although his frown was more of confusion than because he thought his roommate was daft, "You mean the type of girl I would date?"

"Obviously."

At that, the confusion slid off Lysander's face and he grinned, "I don't have a type. But Nikki and I aren't dating; we're friends."

"That doesn't make sense." Ellison shook his head, "The two of you spend all your free time alone together, you do all your homework assignments together..."

For a few awkward moments all Lysander could do was blink at him, as a lot of the implications of what Ellison was saying sunk in. Then he answered seriously, "You can do those things with girls and just be friends, Ellison. And you can be friendly to girls without it meaning you want to date them."

Ellison stabbed at his cake without answering. Without really knowing what it was that pushed him to say it, Lysander continued, "Like with Suza. I'm not an idiot, I know she's interested in me, but I don't want to date her. That doesn't mean I shouldn't be nice to her."

"...but..." Ellison left off mutilating his cake, "You're leading her on, being so friendly to her all the time."

"Leading her on?" Lysander was baffled.

"Every time you say something nice to her, or act friendly, she thinks you're interested in her. It's mean of you to do that if you're not going to ask her out," a hard tone had entered into Ellison's voice now.

Lysander shot it down immediately, "If Suza thinks that every boy who's nice to her wants to date her, that's her issue to deal with; not mine. Being nice for the sake of being nice doesn't make someone mean. Being mean to someone who was just being friendly makes you mean. Like how you've acted with Lan."

Ellison lapsed into silence for a few minutes, and Lysander had to do his best not to fill the air with words. Finally Ellison muttered, "I'm sorry I've been rude to you. I thought you were toying with Suza."

"Apology accepted." Lysander smiled at him. Much as he felt tempted to push for an apology on Lan's behalf, he knew that was something Ellison was going to have to extend in his own time. Instead, he waited for Ellison to finish eating his mostly-mush cake before asking, "How are things going with Doduo?"

Ellison shrugged, "It's friendly enough, but whenever I try to tell its left head it's not a Farfetch'd it hits me with its leek."

"Have you tried taking the leek away?"

"Once." There was a semi-haunted expression on Ellison's face, "I won't try it again. Have you found the cause of Dodrio's aggression?"

Lysander shook his head, but went on to explain his findings of the two peripheral heads being more aggressive while the central head seemed prepared to accept him as its master. When he was finished, he asked, "Any thoughts?"

"Actually..." Ellison paused in stacking the empty dishes, "Yes."

"..." Lysander waited a few seconds, and then turned his wrist in a 'do go on' gesture.

"How familiar are you with Pokémon racing?" The look on Lysander's face suggested he wasn't, so Ellison continued, "My grandfather always goes to the races on Sunday afternoon. He prefers the Ponyta racing, but sometimes he watches the Dodrio races. He says it's pretty dirty; the left and right heads are trained to peck at other Dodrio to open up paths to the front of the flock."

Lysander stared at him, and then threw his arms up and exclaimed, "That would explain everything! I've always been approaching Dodrio from the side, so it would think I was a competitor instead of its trainer! And its middle head has probably figured out I'm its new trainer, but it can't convince the other two because they outvote it!"

Ellison couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his face at Lysander's enthusiasm, but he countered it with a high-handed tone, "It seems really straightforward to me. You had no idea?"

If he was expecting Lysander to feel put out by this remark, he wasn't; Lysander was far too busy yanking open all the drawers in the room. Ellison frowned, "What are you...?"

"Help me get belts! I need to make a bridle!"

The next evening, Erica sat outside the row of PokéProject examination offices, going over her proposal once again. Unlike Conrad's disastrous proposals from the previous semester, she made no excuses for herself; she'd clearly stated that she still had yet to find the root of Butterfree's problem, and that her progress had been impeded by her time spent recuperating in the infirmary. What she hadn't included in the report was that she'd spent no time thinking of how to connect with Butterfree since she'd been released. All of her energy had gone first and foremost towards catching up on missed work, and second on trying to mend the relationship with Roselyn that she'd somehow damaged.

She leaned her head back against the wall with a sigh, watching Lan as she continued to lay out the TM 44 kit and go over the uploading instructions for the fourth time. Conrad, currently in one of the offices further along the hall, had agreed to oversee Lan's use of the TM on Persian once his assessment was complete. On the other side of Lan was Lysander, looking scraped and bruised but very pleased with himself. There was a tangle of belts in his lap.

Erica let out a single huff of amused air, "I think I know how Conrad felt."

"I doubt that." Lan checked the placement of a piece against the instructions, moved it less than a centimeter, and went back to reading, "Conrad was always confident that he was going to get another Pokémon, even if he made zero progress."

"Not to mention that your action plan is accurate, and you didn't have to go through a thesaurus to make it sound good," Lysander added. Then he asked, "I don't suppose Conrad, er, gave you anything recently, did he?"

"You mean the mace?" Erica leaned to one side to reveal the tube sticking out of her back pocket, "He did, but I've been thinking and I'm not sure it's the way to go. It might make things worse. I'd rather not have another Suza and the Super Glue incident."

"What does that have to do with—?"

"Never mind." Erica went back to staring at the ceiling, and after a few moments Lysander gave up trying to get an answer from her and went back to reworking Dodrio's makeshift bridle. Dodrio's reaction to the bridle had been better than he could possibly have hoped for, and everything went well up until the point where he'd actually attempted to ride his Pokémon: at that point Dodrio had taken off at top speed and he'd been dumped unceremoniously into the dirty snow. Several times.

Soon enough Conrad returned from his meeting, a confident swagger in his step before he sat on the floor to help Lan with her TM. Lysander was called into the office and Erica was left to her thoughts, which still weren't on Butterfree. Instead, she was thinking over the frosty reception she'd received from Roselyn when she'd walked into the Orange pod's card event the previous night. It would almost have been better if Roselyn had chosen a different table to sit at—Erica would have, if she were in Roselyn's shoes or if she'd arrived after Roselyn and Martin—but instead Roselyn and Martin had shot thinly-veiled insults at one another for the entirety of the evening, ranging from fashion critiques to the interesting tidbit that they'd apparently agreed to only give Erica cards while she was sick. Eventually Erica had tossed her cards down and left, snapping that their behaviour was exactly what she'd been glad to leave behind when she came to F.O.C.U.S. She'd avoided both of them in class this morning.

Finally it was her turn, and she waved to the others before taking the long walk down to the end office. It wasn't so much the handing in of her written proposal she was dreading; it was showing the examiner her Butterfree. She found herself hoping, once again, that the contents of her proposal were convincing enough that she could leave the bug in its ball.

She turned the corner into the office, and felt another lead weight drop into her stomach. Lan had described this examiner to her at length; the woman was a stickler for the rules and would insist on seeing Butterfree. Almost unconsciously, one of her hands twitched back towards the tube of mace.

"Come in, Erica." The woman indicated the chair in front of her, "You've written your report?"

"Yes." Erica handed it off to her, accompanied with a note from Nurse Joy, and sat there waiting for the woman to read through it. She looked around for some sort of name plaque or tag, but there was nothing. She supposed it was to help boost the feeling of an anonymous examiner, but it certainly didn't help put her at ease.

After a few minutes the woman announced, "The report seems to be in order. Release your Pokémon."

Erica had practiced this. She cautioned, "I feel it would be best to have another Pokémon present when Butterfree is released. Given what you've already read and Butterfree's hostility—"

"Do you believe yourself to be incapable of controlling your Pokémon?"

It almost sounded like a challenge, but Erica didn't rise to it, "Yes, I do. I wrote as much in the report."

The woman's lips pursed together, "Perhaps if you have so little faith in yourself, you shouldn't be here."

Erica stared at her, and then clarified, "I've had Butterfree for just under two weeks, and have spent half that time puking into a bucket. Just because I can't control Butterfree at this particular moment doesn't mean I'll never be able to, but right now it's a safety concern to—"

"Miss Hunter, if you want to remain at this institution you will show me your PokéProject, and you will show it to me without any further delays."

It was a conscious effort to keep her jaw from clenching, and while she wasn't entirely successful Erica managed to grind out a "Fine" before getting up and taking Butterfree's ball from her belt. In a moment of sheer spitefulness she tossed the Pokéball directly onto the examiner's desk. Even as the red energy resolved into the bug Pokémon and the examiner jerked backwards with a shout of alarm, Erica lifted the chair in which she'd so recently sat to cover her face. Butterfree barely took stock of where it was before releasing a flurry of poisonous purple powder.

The examiner's shouts of protest turned instantly to retching, but when Butterfree realized its attack had failed to incapacitate its trainer it took flight, intent on using the attack again. Erica threw down the chair, whipped out Conrad's mace, and triggered it directly into Butterfree's face. It squealed and crumpled to the floor immediately.

Leaving the bug Pokémon to fend for itself—and, she would shamefully admit later on, to taste some of its own medicine—Erica rounded the examiner's desk and grabbed the examiner by her arm, half-carrying and half-dragging her to the door.

"Help! We need help in here!"

Several students and two examiners came running immediately, and once Erica passed off the vomiting examiner she turned and regarded her Pokémon. Butterfree was attempting to get airborne once again, but its wings were terribly out of rhythm and its eyes and nose were streaming liquid. The terrified and disoriented squeaks and snuffles coming from it weighed her down with guilt, and she crossed the room in four strides and seized its Pokéball from the floor beside the desk.

"Butterfree, return."

There was just enough time for it to turn its tear-streaming eyes toward her before it dissolved into red energy. Erica set her jaw to keep from saying something; she didn't know if she would apologize to it or inform it that what went around came around, but she knew it was best to say neither.

On the way out of the office, she extended her arm and dropped the mace into the garbage bin beside the door. To the part of her that was screaming she was an idiot to do so she muttered, "There has to be another way."