Oak continued to babble happily and everyone ignored him.
"Hello," Tracey said gently, putting forward one finger to stroke it gently.
"Is it a he or a she, Tracey?" Ash asked.
Tracey looked closer. "Hmm... a she."
Oak had run over to the phone and was now yelling something that Ash could not understand a word of to Prof. Elm. Ash decided he was probably speaking a foreign language. He definitely didn't understand the only word Elm said--he didn't hear much of it but he was sure it began with an f (but then you can never trust Ash's spelling).
Ash stared at the small Pokémon for a moment. "Am I really going to keep it?"
Oak heard him and turned round. "Hang on a minute, Elm," he muttered. "Ash... it's not going to be a good battler, not for a long time, and... there's a rule that goes back hundreds of years, that says you can't use Mew in official league matches..."
Brock nodded. "It's true Ash."
"And also... I'd really like to study it so..."
"I can't keep it?" Ash looked like he was going to cry or something, Misty thought.
"No." Oak shook his head. Elm started yelling--something about Don't call me reverse charges and then ignore me...
"Ohhh... it's not fair!" Ash yelled, and ran off.
Tracey looked concerned.
"He'll be alright," Misty assured him, "he's probably gone off home. He'll get over it soon."
"Tracey," Oak called, "actually, I'd like you to look after it, if you want."
Me? Thought Tracey. Own the rarest Pokémon of them all? "If I want? Of course I want!" Tracey cried excitedly. "Uh... I mean, that'd be really great, thanks."
Oak grinned. "Well, in that case..."
Suddenly Mew began to squeal at the top of her lungs is a miserable way.
"She's all yours!" Oak yelled.
"What do you think she wants?" Tracey yelled to Brock.
"Probably hungry!" Brock yelled. "Normally their mother feeds them when they hatch, but..." Brock didn't point out that mother Pokémon usually had something Tracey didn't.
"Oh!" Tracey looked at Misty. "Have you got anything we can feed her?"
Misty took her hands off her ears--something that small sure has a loud voice, she thought--"What?"
"What can we feed her?"
Misty shrugged. "Haven't you got any milk in the fridge?"
"Great idea!" Tracey stopped shouting and paused. "No--I finished it up on my cornflakes yesterday and no one bought any more!"
"I'll go and get some from the supermarket!" Brock yelled.
"I think I'll just... go out... somewhere..." Oak said vaguely, and left.
Tracey looked at Misty. "It looks like it's just you and me, then."
"And her," Misty nodded to Mew, who had quietened down a little. "What are you going to call her?"
Tracey thought for a moment. "I don't know..."
"You have to give her a really beautiful name," Misty commented. "It would suit her."
What, like Misty? Tracey thought, but said nothing.
"What's your favourite name?" Misty carried on.
"Misty," Tracey blurted out without meaning to.
"Misty's your favourite name?" She looked flattered.
"Uh... yeah..." Tracey went red.
"You could call her Misty..." Misty said thoughtfully.
"I'll have to, now," Tracey said. "You know how it is, you pick a name and then you think of them as that and that's it, the name's stuck."
"Yeah..." Misty turned her attention back to the Pokémon.
"But as your name's Misty... how about we call her Little Misty?"
"Oh, that's so cute!" Misty exclaimed loudly. Too loudly. Little Misty began to bawl again.
"Whoops," Misty said sheepishly.
Tracey picked Little Misty up and put her in his arms and rocked her like a baby. "Shh... shh..."
Misty began to sing very softly.
Tracey was reminded of those pretend games he--and everyone else--played as a young child. Especially the ones where you pretend to be a family. Tracey felt like he was playing families with Misty--and he didn't mind a bit.
Little Misty smiled up a Tracey. "Mew!"
"I think she said her first word," Tracey smiled.
"Well, let me hold her then," Misty said, "since she's named after me and everything."
Tracey happily handed his "baby" over.
"Hello, Little Misty!" Misty said softly.
Suddenly, Tracey heard the latch on the front door click. "I'm back, guys!" Brock called. "I bought the milk... and a newspaper, I didn't think you'd got one today, and a loaf of bread for lunch, and a cake, to celebrate the birth of Mew."
"Oh, hi Brock!" Misty practically ran up to him, Tracey thought jealously. Little Misty however did not enjoy this sudden ride, and began to scream.
"Err, Tracey," Misty yelled, "do you want her back now?"
Tracey began rocking her again and Brock found a baby's bottle in his backpack and filled it with milk. Misty didn't bother to even ask what that was doing in there. She stood around a little uselessly, not knowing whether to cover her ears or not.
"Here," Brock said, handing Tracey the bottle. "See if she'll drink this."
Tracey held the bottle near Little Misty's mouth and she started to suck happily. She downed the entire bottle, and then fell asleep. "Ahh, silence," Misty said happily. The three of them stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
"She needs a crib or something to sleep in," Tracey said eventually.
"Maybe Mrs Ketchum has something," Misty said helpfully. "She might have something Ash used to use."
"Good idea," Tracey said. "One of you better go, though." He didn't point out that Mrs Ketchum didn't particularly like him, for some reason.
"I'll go," Misty offered. "Maybe I can talk to Ash." She said his name happily.
She's like that with all guys, Tracey thought miserably. She's as bad as Brock.
After she'd gone, Brock said, "Tracey, are you okay? You look a bit... crushed."
"I'm fine," Tracey said, but he wasn't convincing Brock, or himself.
"So," Brock said, doing what he thought was tactfully changing the subject, "have you decided on a name?"
"Yeah," Tracey said depressively, "Little Misty."
"Oh."
They both stood in silence for a minute or two, and then Brock went round and tidied everything away, and put the milk in the fridge, while Tracey rocked Little Misty in his arms very gently.
Brock couldn't help but get the vacuum cleaner out and run round the kitchen and the lab with it after he'd tidied up. Tracey settled for staring at Little Misty adoringly until Misty returned.
Misty slammed the front door on her way in, and Tracey groaned. "Can't she do anything quietly?"
"All she had," Misty said, "was a this baby basket thingy, but I thought that'd do."
Little Misty, however, had blinked her big green eyes open and stared around the room. She gave a little yawn, and Tracey thought for one suspenseful moment that she was going to cry again.
"Hello," Tracey said gently, putting forward one finger to stroke it gently.
"Is it a he or a she, Tracey?" Ash asked.
Tracey looked closer. "Hmm... a she."
Oak had run over to the phone and was now yelling something that Ash could not understand a word of to Prof. Elm. Ash decided he was probably speaking a foreign language. He definitely didn't understand the only word Elm said--he didn't hear much of it but he was sure it began with an f (but then you can never trust Ash's spelling).
Ash stared at the small Pokémon for a moment. "Am I really going to keep it?"
Oak heard him and turned round. "Hang on a minute, Elm," he muttered. "Ash... it's not going to be a good battler, not for a long time, and... there's a rule that goes back hundreds of years, that says you can't use Mew in official league matches..."
Brock nodded. "It's true Ash."
"And also... I'd really like to study it so..."
"I can't keep it?" Ash looked like he was going to cry or something, Misty thought.
"No." Oak shook his head. Elm started yelling--something about Don't call me reverse charges and then ignore me...
"Ohhh... it's not fair!" Ash yelled, and ran off.
Tracey looked concerned.
"He'll be alright," Misty assured him, "he's probably gone off home. He'll get over it soon."
"Tracey," Oak called, "actually, I'd like you to look after it, if you want."
Me? Thought Tracey. Own the rarest Pokémon of them all? "If I want? Of course I want!" Tracey cried excitedly. "Uh... I mean, that'd be really great, thanks."
Oak grinned. "Well, in that case..."
Suddenly Mew began to squeal at the top of her lungs is a miserable way.
"She's all yours!" Oak yelled.
"What do you think she wants?" Tracey yelled to Brock.
"Probably hungry!" Brock yelled. "Normally their mother feeds them when they hatch, but..." Brock didn't point out that mother Pokémon usually had something Tracey didn't.
"Oh!" Tracey looked at Misty. "Have you got anything we can feed her?"
Misty took her hands off her ears--something that small sure has a loud voice, she thought--"What?"
"What can we feed her?"
Misty shrugged. "Haven't you got any milk in the fridge?"
"Great idea!" Tracey stopped shouting and paused. "No--I finished it up on my cornflakes yesterday and no one bought any more!"
"I'll go and get some from the supermarket!" Brock yelled.
"I think I'll just... go out... somewhere..." Oak said vaguely, and left.
Tracey looked at Misty. "It looks like it's just you and me, then."
"And her," Misty nodded to Mew, who had quietened down a little. "What are you going to call her?"
Tracey thought for a moment. "I don't know..."
"You have to give her a really beautiful name," Misty commented. "It would suit her."
What, like Misty? Tracey thought, but said nothing.
"What's your favourite name?" Misty carried on.
"Misty," Tracey blurted out without meaning to.
"Misty's your favourite name?" She looked flattered.
"Uh... yeah..." Tracey went red.
"You could call her Misty..." Misty said thoughtfully.
"I'll have to, now," Tracey said. "You know how it is, you pick a name and then you think of them as that and that's it, the name's stuck."
"Yeah..." Misty turned her attention back to the Pokémon.
"But as your name's Misty... how about we call her Little Misty?"
"Oh, that's so cute!" Misty exclaimed loudly. Too loudly. Little Misty began to bawl again.
"Whoops," Misty said sheepishly.
Tracey picked Little Misty up and put her in his arms and rocked her like a baby. "Shh... shh..."
Misty began to sing very softly.
Tracey was reminded of those pretend games he--and everyone else--played as a young child. Especially the ones where you pretend to be a family. Tracey felt like he was playing families with Misty--and he didn't mind a bit.
Little Misty smiled up a Tracey. "Mew!"
"I think she said her first word," Tracey smiled.
"Well, let me hold her then," Misty said, "since she's named after me and everything."
Tracey happily handed his "baby" over.
"Hello, Little Misty!" Misty said softly.
Suddenly, Tracey heard the latch on the front door click. "I'm back, guys!" Brock called. "I bought the milk... and a newspaper, I didn't think you'd got one today, and a loaf of bread for lunch, and a cake, to celebrate the birth of Mew."
"Oh, hi Brock!" Misty practically ran up to him, Tracey thought jealously. Little Misty however did not enjoy this sudden ride, and began to scream.
"Err, Tracey," Misty yelled, "do you want her back now?"
Tracey began rocking her again and Brock found a baby's bottle in his backpack and filled it with milk. Misty didn't bother to even ask what that was doing in there. She stood around a little uselessly, not knowing whether to cover her ears or not.
"Here," Brock said, handing Tracey the bottle. "See if she'll drink this."
Tracey held the bottle near Little Misty's mouth and she started to suck happily. She downed the entire bottle, and then fell asleep. "Ahh, silence," Misty said happily. The three of them stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
"She needs a crib or something to sleep in," Tracey said eventually.
"Maybe Mrs Ketchum has something," Misty said helpfully. "She might have something Ash used to use."
"Good idea," Tracey said. "One of you better go, though." He didn't point out that Mrs Ketchum didn't particularly like him, for some reason.
"I'll go," Misty offered. "Maybe I can talk to Ash." She said his name happily.
She's like that with all guys, Tracey thought miserably. She's as bad as Brock.
After she'd gone, Brock said, "Tracey, are you okay? You look a bit... crushed."
"I'm fine," Tracey said, but he wasn't convincing Brock, or himself.
"So," Brock said, doing what he thought was tactfully changing the subject, "have you decided on a name?"
"Yeah," Tracey said depressively, "Little Misty."
"Oh."
They both stood in silence for a minute or two, and then Brock went round and tidied everything away, and put the milk in the fridge, while Tracey rocked Little Misty in his arms very gently.
Brock couldn't help but get the vacuum cleaner out and run round the kitchen and the lab with it after he'd tidied up. Tracey settled for staring at Little Misty adoringly until Misty returned.
Misty slammed the front door on her way in, and Tracey groaned. "Can't she do anything quietly?"
"All she had," Misty said, "was a this baby basket thingy, but I thought that'd do."
Little Misty, however, had blinked her big green eyes open and stared around the room. She gave a little yawn, and Tracey thought for one suspenseful moment that she was going to cry again.