Although I finished this chapter yesterday, I decided to give you guys a bit more time to process Chapter 3 before posting Chapter 4. I really want to thank everyone who has supported this story thus far, from the bottom of my heart. Here we go.
Current music: Millionaire - Cash Cash
CODY HARVARD
If there's anything I would learn in years to come, just two simple lessons that most people know intuitively but few ever articulate, it's the following: Time moves faster than you think, and even the most peculiar situations can become routine.
The first transformation was one of the hardest days of my life. Although the school had already been notified that I wouldn't be attending for a few days, my absence started a day earlier than planned when I made myself sick from nerves.
I was going to become a Lycanroc that night. I'd been taking the wolfsbane every morning after breakfast, per the instructions on the bottle, so I wouldn't infect anyone else. Even so, I didn't want others to see me as a Pokemon.
When the first night of the full moon came, at about half past four one Monday (since Daylight Saving Time had just ended), I started feeling my skin get prickly. It's happening!
The transformation was every bit as painful as I had expected, and then some. Not only were all of my fingers and toes becoming claws, but my entire bone structure had to take a new shape; after all, going from two arms and two legs to simply four legs takes a vastly different array of muscles.
I basically groaned the entire time; while it couldn't have taken more than a minute or two, even that short length of time can feel like hours when you're in agony. I was also gritting my teeth, but they soon turned into fangs.
When it was over, I collapsed to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut. The transformation had taken more energy than I'd anticipated, and I found myself exhausted from it. Even so, I managed to crawl over to my phone.
That's the only way I can communicate with my parents. I don't know if I can talk in this form, and besides, I'm not going to risk the stairs right now; I might get badly hurt if I do.
When your five fingers have been replaced with three claws, typing becomes a very difficult task. I might have known where all the keys were, unlike when I'd first learned how to type as a kid, but that didn't mean I always clicked the right letters.
Thank Arceus for autocorrect, am I right?
With much effort, I managed to type the following: I just became a Lycanroc. Could you please bring my dinner up to my room? I don't feel like taking the stairs.
After sending the text to my mother, I waited for her to respond. Fortunately, this didn't take long.
Yes, that is fine. We love you.
Even in my current predicament, I couldn't help but smile. As bad as it was to be a were-Lycanroc, it would be far worse if my parents weren't so supportive. I knew that they loved me unconditionally, as all parents should love their children.
Before dinner, my mother sent up the homework I'd been given for the week. I tried to thank her for that, but all that came out were grunts, confirming my worst fear: I could not speak English, or any other human language, while I was a Pokemon. Fortunately, I believe she got the message.
If typing had been a pain, writing by hand was torture. I had to be extremely careful to hold my mechanical pencil in the proper manner so as not to break either the pencil or paper. My penmanship was also atrocious, so I could only wonder what the teachers must have thought was going on.
Eating was even worse. My parents had instilled in me, from a very early age, that it was very important to follow basic table manners while consuming food. However, this was next to impossible when you only had three fingers. I was quite grateful that my parents left the room while I ate dinner that night, and thus weren't able to see the new way I ate.
Sleeping was a nightmare, no pun intended. I was normally the type to toss and turn before I found a comfortable position, but I couldn't do that this time for fear of ripping up my bedsheets. Sleeping on my side, the way I normally did, was out of the question.
So instead I relented and decided to give sleeping on the floor a go. While it wasn't very comfortable, at least I didn't risk breaking something I cared about, which was my bed.
As I lay awake that first night, I had ample time to wonder how I was going to cope with this new reality. They say that you can get used to anything, but I didn't see how I could grow accustomed to being a were-Lycanroc.
The worst thing I can do, I reminded myself, is to harm someone I love without realizing it.
I repeated those words over and over, not unlike a secular prayer. I even clasped my paws together just like people often do when praying, since I found it gave me better focus.
And if Arceus were listening, I sincerely hoped he'd give me the strength, as well as the self-restraint, I needed in order to keep the worst-case scenario from coming true.
I spent the next few days cooped up in my room. While I kept telling myself it was by choice, the reality was that this was anything but. I was simply too ashamed and frightened to go anywhere else.
Every so often, my parents would bring me food, or homework, and I would happily devour both. (Although I'd only eat the food, of course; I wasn't a Lillipup!) These were very much appreciated, since they eased up the monotony temporarily.
Other than that, there weren't many other ways to pass the time. I mostly just laid there doing absolutely nothing besides staring at the ceiling.
Eventually, a few days passed, and I became human again. This transformation, while rather painful, also felt relieving in a way. No longer did I need to hide from society; no longer did others need to be protected from me.
Until next month, that is.
I liked to think that I would appreciate being a human more now that I'd seen what it was like not to have my own body. However, that's not what happened.
It's a strange thing, to be sure, but when you are sick, and wish to get better more than anything else, you might tell yourself that you'll never forget what it was like to be ill. You'll resolve to never take good health for granted again. Alas, you always forget.
It was much the same way with my new condition. Once I became human again, I could not specifically remember how I'd felt as a Lycanroc. Just how boring it had been in my room, I couldn't recall either.
From the standpoint of appreciating my human form, it didn't help that I faced a lot of questions from the other students, as well as comments from one or two of my teachers.
They meant well, of course. I understood their concern for my well-being; I would have made the same comments in their shoes. But that didn't make things any less awkward on my end.
For the most part, I shrugged off their questions to the best of my ability and focused on the schoolwork. After all, the point of school is to get good grades so that you can ultimately go to college, and then get a successful career after that. Friendships were irrelevant to this goal, at least in my view.
If they only knew the truth, they wouldn't want to be friends anyway.
A week passed. Then two. Time went by more quickly than I'd wanted it to, and before long I was watching the calendar carefully for the day when I would have to once more start taking the wolfsbane.
By this time the town of Skylock was blanketed in a fine layer of snow. Since the fluffy white stuff was my favorite part of winter, the fact that I couldn't play outside for a few days, or even go for a walk, shattered my heart into a million pieces.
It did occur to me that if I went out at night, nobody would recognize me. They wouldn't know that I was Cody Harvard, were-Lycanroc. They'd just see a Lycanroc and know to get out of the way.
I'm not going to risk that. Which really sucks, since I hate being stuck in my room when it's so beautiful outside, but what can you do?
Being in my room for three days straight was even more disagreeable this time than it had been last time. It was hard to find a comfortable temperature; if I turned the heat down, it would be too cold even with my thick tufts of fur in beige and white.
But if the heat was turned up, then I could practically feel my internal organs being roasted like chestnuts on an open fire. And I knew that I was going to suffer when summer came, for then there would be no escaping the heat.
After another period of feeling like a caged Pyroar, the full moon ended and I became a human once again.
As the months passed, this pattern began feeling more routine. I would live my life for three weeks or so, and then I'd spend half a week taking the wolfsbane before I became a Lycanroc again. It was rough, to put it mildly, but after a certain point it became just another part of my life.
So I grew older. The next June, I turned fifteen, and that's the age when most of the teens of Skylock begin to ponder their futures. Some will become Pokemon ranchers, whereas some will leave home to become trainers if they haven't already. Still others don't work with Pokemon at all and instead go into white-collar occupations.
For most adolescents, this is an exciting time, even if it's also very stressful. For me, it was all of the latter, but without any of the former.
I considered applying for a summer job, even if it was something as simple as scooping ice cream or cleaning the battling courts at the local gym. But then I learned that all employers conduct background checks on prospective workers, and I knew that I was toast as soon as they learned of my disease. That summer was one of the loneliest times of my life, and that was saying something.
That autumn, I entered high school. As there was an increasing social scene outside of school, I grew even more jealous of those students who took part. That couldn't be me, though; even if they didn't hate me for being different, I'd squandered too much time being a loner.
When you're a loner in a small town, there just aren't any chances for you to advance upward in the social circle. It's like that song about the circle game, in more ways than one.
Another year passed, and I became sixteen. This meant two things for the majority of teens, and those two things were driving and dating.
I did get my driver's license, something I'd been excited for since childhood, but that I was more ambivalent about now. Since the label for the wolfsbane bottles said that I wasn't supposed to operate heavy machinery while taking it, I had my anxiety about not knowing if it was still in my system.
Even though I could legally drive alone now, I still used my parents' car. I didn't want to drive often enough to warrant buying my own, and besides, it's not like there was anywhere I really wanted to go. My social life was non-existent.
If my social life was six feet under, my love life was six miles under. Dating was an absolute non-starter for me, and it always would be. I wouldn't be able to do so without hiding the truth, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did hide the truth, even in the unlikely event that I could do so indefinitely.
Perhaps the only silver lining from my lack of opportunity to connect with my peers was that I now had more time for my studies. My parents definitely wanted me to be happy and not feel left out, but if the latter was inevitable, they wanted to make sure that something good came of it.
So they pushed me to work harder in school. During every single class, I did my best to hang on to my teachers' every word. I took copious notes, and I never slacked off when doing my homework. I always, always, always turned it in on time.
Two more years passed, and by this time I'd taken the SAT and the ACT. I'd gotten pretty good marks on both of those standardized tests, and so when the time came to look for colleges, I was spoiled for choice.
In the end, I was accepted into Greater Pastoria University, and I decided to go there. It would be my first time living away from home; prior to becoming a were-Lycanroc I'd had no desire to attend an overnight camp, and afterwards it simply wasn't an option.
This would be a new experience for me, and for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to be genuinely excited about the future.
And then my parents and I read the fine print. While this was most likely true for any other post-secondary institution I might have attended, I was still startled to learn that prior to the beginning of the semester, I had to disclose my full medical history.
"This is going to be an awkward phone call" I remember saying aloud as my parents and I were in the kitchen, poring over the endless mountain of paperwork this process entailed.
My mother shook her head. "I'm sure that they've had students with weirder medical conditions at the university. It's just an odds thing, really, GPU has been around for a while."
She didn't sound sure. She sounded more as though she were trying to convince herself than to convince me.
My father, on the other hand, was a lot more transparent about his worries. He wasn't even trying to hide his fear.
"A were-Lycanroc attending university? It's practically unheard of, but if you truly want to attend, then you should follow your dreams. I'm sure the school has protocols for that sort of thing."
After a very nerve-wracking three days of waiting for a response from the university, it finally came. I could not have been more relieved when I learned what GPU planned to do about me.
Every month, on the morning before the first night of the full moon, I would be moved into one of the unused apartments that were normally reserved for juniors and seniors. Much like how it was at home the first time I'd transformed, my meals and homework would be delivered to my door.
In return, I was expected to be diligent with taking the wolfsbane as prescribed. If I missed a single dose, and ended up causing trouble, the letter told me that "there will be consequences."
If there's one thing I hate in life, it's consequences. That usually means that a person or institution is disappointed in me, and I don't want them to feel that way. Even though you can't please everyone, I'm not going to make my parents ashamed of me.
In spite of the warning that I'd pay the price if I stepped out of line, I felt genuinely happy for the first time in what felt like forever. After making it through my senior year with flying colors, and graduating with honors, I had just a few more months to wait until I could move away from Skylock.
Don't get me wrong; I did like Skylock. But there's just something about small towns that can feel rather stifling, like they prevent you from living up to your full potential.
After a certain point, there's just nothing more to be said, or to be done. There's nobody left to meet, and no reason to get too connected with anyone new, since you'll be leaving in a few months anyway.
That was going to be the biggest challenge of these last two and a half months.
By the end of the first week after my high school's graduation ceremony (which I'd thankfully been able to attend, since it wasn't around the full moon), I was even more adamant that summer was my least favorite season.
On occasion, I looked at my friends' social media pages. They talked about heading to the beach together, or the amusement park, or even taking trips to Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, or regions even more distant than those.
How utterly depressing this is.
It wasn't that I wasn't happy for my classmates. They were going on to the next chapter of their lives, and for most of them, it would be a thrilling one. I might have been bitter about my lot in life, but not bitter enough to not wish them well.
By this time I was nineteen years old. I'd celebrated my eighteenth birthday with little fanfare, since I'd been a Lycanroc on that day, but for this birthday I actually managed to work up the courage to invite a few of my friends to the Chauntecleer, the nicest restaurant in all of Skylock.
I was doing so on my parents' dime, with their approval. I would have loved to book the reservation with my own money, but as you know by now, I didn't have any, thanks to never having worked a summer job.
I made the reservation for six (the maximum number of people I realistically expected to accept the invitation) and hoped for the best. I arrived at the restaurant before the appointed time, just to make sure I wasn't late. Nothing was going to ruin my special day.
Not a single person came.
In hindsight, this was probably a good thing. My "social muscles", if you will, had completely withered away by this time, and I'd probably end up doing or saying something stupid in front of my few remaining friends.
As the waiter, a male Braixen in a tuxedo, came over with the basket of bread, his eyes opened wide in a dejected expression. He saw a table set for six, and only one person at it.
"Where are the other members of your party?" he asked me.
I shrugged. "They're not here. They just didn't come."
"Oh" the waiter replied, frowning at the ground. Looking back up at me, he placed the basket on the table. "This is a lot of bread for one person. Eat as much of it as you want, but don't spoil your appetite."
"Thanks, man" I replied, taking a swig of my favorite drink, seltzer water with a splash of cranberry juice. Of course, it didn't taste nearly as good when I was alone. And really, there was nothing wrong with being alone, except that for once, I had wanted company.
The sounds of classes clinking, as well as people and Pokemon laughing, joking, and simply talking, were all over the place. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and appreciating the fact that they were alive.
Everyone, that is, except me.
The Chauntecleer was my favorite restaurant in all of Skylock, possibly the whole world; I didn't travel very much. For the last five years, I had never gone on a single vacation, since my parents and I hadn't wanted to risk being away from home during the full moon.
Some of my classmates are doing gap years. They're going to travel the world, which isn't for everybody, but it's more than what I'm doing.
As it turns out, eating at a restaurant is a lot less fun when you're alone. When the food eventually came, it was everything I'd asked for: A delectable Reuben sandwich with perfectly sliced fries and coleslaw. However, the rye bread tasted like cardboard at first, then seemed to melt into sand in my mouth.
Come autumn, I would have new friends to make, new horizons to explore, and something to look forward to. But right now, I had no prospects other than yet another lonely summer spent at home.
When the Braixen waiter came back with my tab, I saw that three words had been written on it in pen: Do not tip.
How nice of them, I thought to myself. They're taking pity on me; they can tell I'm upset. I was only being slightly sarcastic; at least I wouldn't have to pay for my likely soon-to-be former friends who hadn't even bothered to show up.
I left the money on the table and exited the restaurant. The Chauntecleer might have been my favorite restaurant before, but it wasn't anymore. From here on out, I expected to always associate it with loneliness and despair, with embarrassment at being abandoned by those whom I thought were my friends.
Tears formed in my eyes as I got into the car (which I was technically borrowing from my mother) and turned on the engine to drive home.
It wasn't easy writing five years into a chapter of this length, but I hope I did a good job. Please let me know in the review box if you believe that is the case.
Also, if you have any OCs or Pokemon you'd like to see included, PM me here and I'll find a place in the story to put them. With that, I will see you all for Chapter 5!