Disclaimer: Have they shown Typhlosion on the TV show yet? No? Then I don't
own it folks.
SC: And now, the appearance of Kris! I really like my character (I'll tell you why in the next chapter). Anyway, I'm sorry if this took so long to update. School has been rather hectic of late (in two words: SCIENCE FAIR. *gag*). But, here it is, and I will try to get the next chapter out ASAP.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mid-Spring, Mauville City, Present Day
SLAM! The echoing clang of the metal locker rang down the empty school hallway. Kris Drake was breathing heavily, adrenaline pounding through his veins, as his grade-school enemy, Jeremy, the bully, raised his fist to meet Kris's eye-level. "Hand it over!" he bellowed with a sound similar to a hippo. "Gimmee' all yer money!" His sausage-like fingers curled themselves up and collided with the side of Kris's face.
Jeremy let go of Kris's shirt collar, allowing his prey to slide down the wall to the floor. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of Kris's mouth, a rivulet which spilled forth more of the crimson liquid as Kris stuttered a reply. "O-okay! I-I-I'll g-give it to you!"
The six-foot thug's mouth twisted into a toothy grin, showing his cracked canines and cavities. "Das' what I t'ought," Jeremy answered. "Now, git it out before I hafta' take anudder swing at ya'." Kris nodded grimly, slid his second-hand backpack off his shoulders, and began rummaging around in one of the pockets. Jeremy turned his head towards the end of the hallway, checking and double-checking for signs of a teacher. If he got caught bullying one more time, it was suspension for him.
Now was Kris's chance, while Jeremy was looking away. He grabbed his backpack, got to his feet, and was halfway down the hall, going the opposite direction that Jeremy was looking before the dim-witted bully even noticed he was gone. It was lucky for Kris that Jeremy was too slow to catch him, or anything for that matter. The badly bruised boy ran through the maze of hallways, finally stopping and entering one of the boys' bathrooms that was the farthest away from where Jeremy was.
Clicking the lock behind him as he laid down his backpack, Kris sighed and went over to the sink. He had to clean himself up or else risk a teacher asking him what had happened. Kris grabbed a few paper towels, wet them, and looked at himself in the mirror. A young boy of about fifteen stared back, a swollen purple bruise welling up on his left cheek. It wasn't that Kris was bullied because of his schoolwork, or because of his inability to make the school baseball team, but because of his looks. Ever since he could remember, Kris recalled being teased for his tall, bony stature, his pale, almost transparent skin, the ridge that ran down the upper half of his spine, and the unusual color of his eyes.
His eyes weren't of any normal hue found in most people - blue, green, hazel, brown, gray, or black - but were of a deep, vibrant gold. Those eyes had caused a lot of pain for Kris, for they led kids in his Kindergarten class to call him a "monster," fellow fifth-grade students to pick him last for their teams in PE, and finally to being bullied in middle school and up. Those same auric eyes, coupled with his other "unique" characteristics, were what made him different from most of the students at Scott's High School.
Kris looked nothing like his parents. His mother, Pam, had amber eyes and strawberry-blond, shoulder-length hair; his father, emerald green eyes and black hair cut close to the sides of his head. Kris's hair was a fluid brown, dripping down into two blond-tipped spikes behind his head. His bangs hung unkempt before the "famous" yellow eyes that gave him a falsely cold appearance.
He didn't talk much at school. Why bother? It's not like anyone would listen to him anyway. Everyone at school feared that if they were seen talking with Kris, that Jeremy would punish them dearly. Kris's only friend was his pet Linoone, which had been in the family since before he was born. Of course, that wasn't much help, since Linoone, like most other Pokémon, could not speak the human language.
Somewhere off in the distance, the school's bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. Kris sighed, gathered his things, and left the bathroom. He'd be in trouble with his science teacher tomorrow, no doubt, for missing the class, but right now Kris didn't care. He had managed to escape from Jeremy, a feat never before achieved. This fact made him smile a bit as he navigated through the hallways of the high school.
Jeremy had been bothering Kris since he had been in the third grade, although, Jeremy had been a burly fourth grader at the time. For some reason that only God was to know, Kris had been bestowed as Jeremy's punching bag. Somewhere along the progress of their school years, Jeremy was held back a year, meaning that now they were in the same grade, and, as Murphy's Law should have it, had five out of seven classes together. And now, as Kris was walking home behind the school, he was too busy being happy for a change to notice that he was walking right into a trap.
"Gotcha'!" a deep voice boomed as a shadowed figure leaped - well, stumbled - from behind the nearest bush. A heavy hand landed on Kris's shoulder, spun him around, and gripped him tightly. Standing before him was Jeremy, looking none too happy. "Ya' t'ink you can just walk away from me? I'll teach ya'!" Around came the all-too-familiar fist that connected with Kris's left shoulder. Kris faltered, shock and fear ganging up on him, making him unable to move out of the way as Jeremy launched a second attack, this time making contact with his already bruised cheek.
Wheezing, Kris fell to the ground under the force of the blow. Jeremy brought up his foot and landed a kick to the underside of Kris's chin, knocking him back into a bush. As he lay there, under the temporary protection of the shrub's branches, a new feeling other than the usual adrenaline pulsated through his veins. It was anger, the rage of being attacked for doing nothing. It swam like lava through his blood stream, sending a prickling sensation down his arms and legs.
He stood up. For once in his life, Kris was going to fight back. A prickling feeling took the place of the anger's heat and seemed to focus on his spine. Tremulously he raised his fists and took what he hoped was a defensive position. Jeremy stared for a moment, then threw back his head in an arrogant laugh. "So yer goin' to try an' fight me? Fat chance!" he said haughtily, still laughing. "I doubt ya' could even land a punch, much less hurt me." That last comment jarred loose what little restraint Kris had left. He wasn't going to let this - person - just stand there and insult him!
Almost instantaneously something came over him. His head felt like it was spinning, and a burning sensation filled his eyes and zoomed down his spine. By now, Jeremy had stopped laughing, and was staring in utter disbelief at the weak boy whom he had fought for years. Kris almost couldn't take the pain from the white-hot feeling under his skin anymore. Suddenly, what felt like spears burst from the skin and bone of his back. Jeremy leapt back as six pointed bones, three on each side, cascaded down Kris's back and covered themselves in leathery blue skin.
Here was where Kris lost control of his anger. He could see his own actions, but not control them. It was almost as if his anger had gotten the better of him. He felt himself stand up straighter, felt himself raise a fist, saw Jeremy back away slowly, and heard his own voice utter a strange mix of hissing sounds and speech.
"Oh, I believe thissssssss will hurt quite a bit, Jeremy," Kris said in a voice quite unlike his own - dark and monotonous.
And suddenly his hand was engulfed in vibrant blue flames; sizzling and radiating with an extreme heat that Kris could visibly see but not feel. Slowly the hand was drawn back, and in a blinding blur of movement, too fast to be entirely human, it was launched in Jeremy's direction. Before the six-foot blunderer could even respond to the moment, the putrid smell of burning cloth and flesh spilled into the air. Jeremy was still frozen in shock, until the pain of having a second-degree burn on his arm met up with him. Tears began to roll down his face as Jeremy turned and bolted towards home, crying with all his might. "Monster!" he called out behind him as he ran. "The other kids were right to call you that when you were little! You devil of a FREAK!"
Kris stood and watched him run for a minute then sighed and sank to the ground. Calling up that immense amount of energy left him feeling tired. Wait a minute. . . "What the hell?!" Kris hollered, the full weight of what had just happened settling upon his shoulders. "What went on just now?" His eyes fell upon a charred piece of Jeremy's shirt lying on the ground. "Oh, crap. Did I do that? This is making absolutely no sense."
Trying to figure it all out, Kris fell back to rest on his back. He felt something long and thin beneath him, like he was lying on top of something. He got up and turned to look, but saw nothing but the dirt and leaves one would usually find in a clump of trees. Figuring that it was his imagination, Kris lay on the ground again, but felt the same stick-sized lump rub up against his back. "Okay, what is going on here?" Kris asked, raising a hand to rub his back. "Oh my God!" he cried as he ran his finger down a hard, thin object. He twisted his neck around and caught sight of a pair of broad blue wings, leathery to the touch, protruding from where the lump on his back had been.
Mentally, Kris found himself spiraling down into a whirlpool of unprecedented and unbelievable events. First off, he had pounded the school bully, second, he had somehow summoned fire into the palm of his hand, and third, he now had two gaudy wings to deal with. Kris got up and tried to run home, but he mistakenly ran between two trees, and his fully-flared wings got caught against them. "Come on!" Kris hollered, struggling to pull himself free, but the wings' bones, though super-light, were also super- strong.
Kris sighed, and focused all of his energy onto one wing. He willed for it to move downwards and fold tightly against his back, and slowly it did so, collapsing into its most compact shape. He then did the same for the second one, and it too folded nicely against the other, so that they formed a single blue ridge down his back. Kris sidled out from between the oaks and continued his mad dash home, taking every back-road he knew so as not to draw to much attention to himself.
Ten minutes later, Kris had arrived at his quaint house along the fringes of the Mauville metropolis. He hopped the fence, jumped over his mother's Tamato Berry patch, threw open the back door and slammed it quickly shut behind him. Kris glanced around, muttering to himself so fast it sounded like the hum of a Beedrill's wings. "Oh, please don't let Mom be home! Oh, please don't let Mom be home! Oh, please. . ." Kris's eyes landed upon a hastily written note attached to the refrigerator door, and he recognized his mother's loopy handwriting: "Kris, your father and I have to meet with Wattson today, so we won't be home until five o'clock or so. There are some cookies on the counter, in case you're hungry after school. Love, Mom." A series of pink and red heart stickers covered the rest of the note.
Kris leaned around the edge of the refrigerator and saw a plate of freshly baked sugar cookies, shaped like hearts. "God Mom, you need to cut the heart obsession you have," he said, emitting a slightly annoyed sigh. Grabbing a fistful of cookies, Kris trudged up the short flight of stairs that led to the only room on the second story of the Drakes' house, which was his own. As he entered the room, he saw a mess of ivory and chocolate fur covering his bed.
"C'mon Ziggy, move!" Kris huffed, trying to lift the old and stiff Linoone away from the pile of blankets and clothes. Blearily, one eyelid was raised to reveal a slate gray orb, then closed again, plainly stating that the senior Pokémon did not wish to leave the warm spot on the bed between his pillow and two sheets. "Come ON! I'll give you a cookie if you move!" Both eyes were opened this time, and the Linoone jumped happily out of bed and turned to face Kris with the eagerness of a puppy.
"Wha'. . . that actually worked? I thought old people hated sugar," commented Kris as he handed the energetic Pokémon a cookie and scratched it behind the ears. The Linoone responded by sniffing around Kris's palm, as though more cookies would appear if the hand was smelled enough. The wet charcoal nose traveled up the boy's arm, almost to the shoulder, when the Linoone paused abruptly. Growling, the already ruffled fur of the Pokémon stood on end as Ziggy backed away from Kris.
"What? What is it boy? Do ya' smell something?" Kris inquired. Out came the barks and yips of a reply, and Kris, having spent so much time with his Pokémon, could tell what was being said. "Listen, something happened today at school. I'll show you, but you have to swear on your tail that you won't tell Mom or Dad. Promise, Ziggy?" The Linoone nodded vigorously, sensing the seriousness of the situation. Kris sighed and willed for his newborn wings to unfurl. Almost instantly they did, creating a slight wind in their wake as they moved apart, with the folds of scaly skin between the bones stretched to full extent. "There. You see?"
Ziggy was speechless, for he had never seen anything like this in his many- year life. "Yeah, that's how I felt." Kris said, reading the Pokémon's expression. "I just don't understand it!" he exclaimed, flopping onto his bed and letting the Linoone curl up next to him. "Darn, this is so confusing. What am I supposed to tell Mom and Dad? 'Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad! Guess what? I've been bullied in school for the past three years, and today when I stood up to the bully I grew wings and summoned fire.' Dramatic pause. 'So? Any idea what possessed me?' Nope, I don't think that speech will fly."
Kris ran his hand down Ziggy's back. Stroking the warm fur made him calm down a bit, the stress flowing away with the eddies of passing time. After all, it was only four-thirty, surely he would think of a promising way to tell his parents by then. . .
The rumbling of the opening garage door met Kris's ears, and he was only dimly aware that an opening garage meant that his parents were home. In fact, he didn't even realize they were until his mother called up the stairs, "Kris, honey! We're home! We picked up a few Poké-burgers to-go on the way home; do you want one?"
Kris leapt up. Parents. Parents! "Crap, they're not supposed to be back yet!" But the clock proved him wrong, the blinking numerals clearly read to be five twenty-two. He was going to have to think up something good - and fast - if he was going to tell his parents without making them die of shock.
"Kris? Did you hear me?" Pam asked, stepping on the first stair and craning her neck to see the boy's bedroom door.
"Yes Mom!" Kris cried shrilly, hoping that his mother wouldn't notice the unnatural amount of anxiety in his voice.
"Honey? Are you all right?" came the reply from downstairs.
"Damn," Kris mumbled to himself. "It's nothing! I'll be down in a minute!" Please go away, thought Kris.
"Okay. I'm sorry to bother you, dear." Kris strained his ears until he could hear the sounds of someone rattling around in the kitchen. He got to his feet and ruffled Ziggy's fur. "Well, are ya' with me, buddy?" Ziggy gave a happy bark, and a smile drew itself upon Kris's mouth. "All right then. Time to face the music." Together the two trod down the stairs, taking in deep breaths, and Kris pushing his mind to the limit for a reasonable explanation, not knowing that he was about to receive a detailed one himself.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
SC: Okay, okay, I know that's a really bad place for a cliffhanger, but hey! I like making annoying cliffhangers. It gives the reader a chance to try and predict what happens next. ^__^ I repeat, I am SORRY for the late update! Blame Science Fair, go on, the lot of ya'! *cough* I hope y'all liked this chappy, because I spent much time spazzing out over it. I really hate curse words, but in order to make Kris sound more realistic I put them in. *shudder* This will take getting used to. Anyway, expect to see a LONG chapter next time (can't make any promises, but I'm pretty sure it wil be LONG). Later!
A special note to reviewer Iveechan: Thank you. Your review made me feel really good about myself, my story, and my "talents" (it that's what one would call them) as a writer. It makes me feel happy, and you inspired me to write this chapter as quickly as was possible with school. This chapter's for you! ^__~
SC: And now, the appearance of Kris! I really like my character (I'll tell you why in the next chapter). Anyway, I'm sorry if this took so long to update. School has been rather hectic of late (in two words: SCIENCE FAIR. *gag*). But, here it is, and I will try to get the next chapter out ASAP.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mid-Spring, Mauville City, Present Day
SLAM! The echoing clang of the metal locker rang down the empty school hallway. Kris Drake was breathing heavily, adrenaline pounding through his veins, as his grade-school enemy, Jeremy, the bully, raised his fist to meet Kris's eye-level. "Hand it over!" he bellowed with a sound similar to a hippo. "Gimmee' all yer money!" His sausage-like fingers curled themselves up and collided with the side of Kris's face.
Jeremy let go of Kris's shirt collar, allowing his prey to slide down the wall to the floor. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of Kris's mouth, a rivulet which spilled forth more of the crimson liquid as Kris stuttered a reply. "O-okay! I-I-I'll g-give it to you!"
The six-foot thug's mouth twisted into a toothy grin, showing his cracked canines and cavities. "Das' what I t'ought," Jeremy answered. "Now, git it out before I hafta' take anudder swing at ya'." Kris nodded grimly, slid his second-hand backpack off his shoulders, and began rummaging around in one of the pockets. Jeremy turned his head towards the end of the hallway, checking and double-checking for signs of a teacher. If he got caught bullying one more time, it was suspension for him.
Now was Kris's chance, while Jeremy was looking away. He grabbed his backpack, got to his feet, and was halfway down the hall, going the opposite direction that Jeremy was looking before the dim-witted bully even noticed he was gone. It was lucky for Kris that Jeremy was too slow to catch him, or anything for that matter. The badly bruised boy ran through the maze of hallways, finally stopping and entering one of the boys' bathrooms that was the farthest away from where Jeremy was.
Clicking the lock behind him as he laid down his backpack, Kris sighed and went over to the sink. He had to clean himself up or else risk a teacher asking him what had happened. Kris grabbed a few paper towels, wet them, and looked at himself in the mirror. A young boy of about fifteen stared back, a swollen purple bruise welling up on his left cheek. It wasn't that Kris was bullied because of his schoolwork, or because of his inability to make the school baseball team, but because of his looks. Ever since he could remember, Kris recalled being teased for his tall, bony stature, his pale, almost transparent skin, the ridge that ran down the upper half of his spine, and the unusual color of his eyes.
His eyes weren't of any normal hue found in most people - blue, green, hazel, brown, gray, or black - but were of a deep, vibrant gold. Those eyes had caused a lot of pain for Kris, for they led kids in his Kindergarten class to call him a "monster," fellow fifth-grade students to pick him last for their teams in PE, and finally to being bullied in middle school and up. Those same auric eyes, coupled with his other "unique" characteristics, were what made him different from most of the students at Scott's High School.
Kris looked nothing like his parents. His mother, Pam, had amber eyes and strawberry-blond, shoulder-length hair; his father, emerald green eyes and black hair cut close to the sides of his head. Kris's hair was a fluid brown, dripping down into two blond-tipped spikes behind his head. His bangs hung unkempt before the "famous" yellow eyes that gave him a falsely cold appearance.
He didn't talk much at school. Why bother? It's not like anyone would listen to him anyway. Everyone at school feared that if they were seen talking with Kris, that Jeremy would punish them dearly. Kris's only friend was his pet Linoone, which had been in the family since before he was born. Of course, that wasn't much help, since Linoone, like most other Pokémon, could not speak the human language.
Somewhere off in the distance, the school's bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. Kris sighed, gathered his things, and left the bathroom. He'd be in trouble with his science teacher tomorrow, no doubt, for missing the class, but right now Kris didn't care. He had managed to escape from Jeremy, a feat never before achieved. This fact made him smile a bit as he navigated through the hallways of the high school.
Jeremy had been bothering Kris since he had been in the third grade, although, Jeremy had been a burly fourth grader at the time. For some reason that only God was to know, Kris had been bestowed as Jeremy's punching bag. Somewhere along the progress of their school years, Jeremy was held back a year, meaning that now they were in the same grade, and, as Murphy's Law should have it, had five out of seven classes together. And now, as Kris was walking home behind the school, he was too busy being happy for a change to notice that he was walking right into a trap.
"Gotcha'!" a deep voice boomed as a shadowed figure leaped - well, stumbled - from behind the nearest bush. A heavy hand landed on Kris's shoulder, spun him around, and gripped him tightly. Standing before him was Jeremy, looking none too happy. "Ya' t'ink you can just walk away from me? I'll teach ya'!" Around came the all-too-familiar fist that connected with Kris's left shoulder. Kris faltered, shock and fear ganging up on him, making him unable to move out of the way as Jeremy launched a second attack, this time making contact with his already bruised cheek.
Wheezing, Kris fell to the ground under the force of the blow. Jeremy brought up his foot and landed a kick to the underside of Kris's chin, knocking him back into a bush. As he lay there, under the temporary protection of the shrub's branches, a new feeling other than the usual adrenaline pulsated through his veins. It was anger, the rage of being attacked for doing nothing. It swam like lava through his blood stream, sending a prickling sensation down his arms and legs.
He stood up. For once in his life, Kris was going to fight back. A prickling feeling took the place of the anger's heat and seemed to focus on his spine. Tremulously he raised his fists and took what he hoped was a defensive position. Jeremy stared for a moment, then threw back his head in an arrogant laugh. "So yer goin' to try an' fight me? Fat chance!" he said haughtily, still laughing. "I doubt ya' could even land a punch, much less hurt me." That last comment jarred loose what little restraint Kris had left. He wasn't going to let this - person - just stand there and insult him!
Almost instantaneously something came over him. His head felt like it was spinning, and a burning sensation filled his eyes and zoomed down his spine. By now, Jeremy had stopped laughing, and was staring in utter disbelief at the weak boy whom he had fought for years. Kris almost couldn't take the pain from the white-hot feeling under his skin anymore. Suddenly, what felt like spears burst from the skin and bone of his back. Jeremy leapt back as six pointed bones, three on each side, cascaded down Kris's back and covered themselves in leathery blue skin.
Here was where Kris lost control of his anger. He could see his own actions, but not control them. It was almost as if his anger had gotten the better of him. He felt himself stand up straighter, felt himself raise a fist, saw Jeremy back away slowly, and heard his own voice utter a strange mix of hissing sounds and speech.
"Oh, I believe thissssssss will hurt quite a bit, Jeremy," Kris said in a voice quite unlike his own - dark and monotonous.
And suddenly his hand was engulfed in vibrant blue flames; sizzling and radiating with an extreme heat that Kris could visibly see but not feel. Slowly the hand was drawn back, and in a blinding blur of movement, too fast to be entirely human, it was launched in Jeremy's direction. Before the six-foot blunderer could even respond to the moment, the putrid smell of burning cloth and flesh spilled into the air. Jeremy was still frozen in shock, until the pain of having a second-degree burn on his arm met up with him. Tears began to roll down his face as Jeremy turned and bolted towards home, crying with all his might. "Monster!" he called out behind him as he ran. "The other kids were right to call you that when you were little! You devil of a FREAK!"
Kris stood and watched him run for a minute then sighed and sank to the ground. Calling up that immense amount of energy left him feeling tired. Wait a minute. . . "What the hell?!" Kris hollered, the full weight of what had just happened settling upon his shoulders. "What went on just now?" His eyes fell upon a charred piece of Jeremy's shirt lying on the ground. "Oh, crap. Did I do that? This is making absolutely no sense."
Trying to figure it all out, Kris fell back to rest on his back. He felt something long and thin beneath him, like he was lying on top of something. He got up and turned to look, but saw nothing but the dirt and leaves one would usually find in a clump of trees. Figuring that it was his imagination, Kris lay on the ground again, but felt the same stick-sized lump rub up against his back. "Okay, what is going on here?" Kris asked, raising a hand to rub his back. "Oh my God!" he cried as he ran his finger down a hard, thin object. He twisted his neck around and caught sight of a pair of broad blue wings, leathery to the touch, protruding from where the lump on his back had been.
Mentally, Kris found himself spiraling down into a whirlpool of unprecedented and unbelievable events. First off, he had pounded the school bully, second, he had somehow summoned fire into the palm of his hand, and third, he now had two gaudy wings to deal with. Kris got up and tried to run home, but he mistakenly ran between two trees, and his fully-flared wings got caught against them. "Come on!" Kris hollered, struggling to pull himself free, but the wings' bones, though super-light, were also super- strong.
Kris sighed, and focused all of his energy onto one wing. He willed for it to move downwards and fold tightly against his back, and slowly it did so, collapsing into its most compact shape. He then did the same for the second one, and it too folded nicely against the other, so that they formed a single blue ridge down his back. Kris sidled out from between the oaks and continued his mad dash home, taking every back-road he knew so as not to draw to much attention to himself.
Ten minutes later, Kris had arrived at his quaint house along the fringes of the Mauville metropolis. He hopped the fence, jumped over his mother's Tamato Berry patch, threw open the back door and slammed it quickly shut behind him. Kris glanced around, muttering to himself so fast it sounded like the hum of a Beedrill's wings. "Oh, please don't let Mom be home! Oh, please don't let Mom be home! Oh, please. . ." Kris's eyes landed upon a hastily written note attached to the refrigerator door, and he recognized his mother's loopy handwriting: "Kris, your father and I have to meet with Wattson today, so we won't be home until five o'clock or so. There are some cookies on the counter, in case you're hungry after school. Love, Mom." A series of pink and red heart stickers covered the rest of the note.
Kris leaned around the edge of the refrigerator and saw a plate of freshly baked sugar cookies, shaped like hearts. "God Mom, you need to cut the heart obsession you have," he said, emitting a slightly annoyed sigh. Grabbing a fistful of cookies, Kris trudged up the short flight of stairs that led to the only room on the second story of the Drakes' house, which was his own. As he entered the room, he saw a mess of ivory and chocolate fur covering his bed.
"C'mon Ziggy, move!" Kris huffed, trying to lift the old and stiff Linoone away from the pile of blankets and clothes. Blearily, one eyelid was raised to reveal a slate gray orb, then closed again, plainly stating that the senior Pokémon did not wish to leave the warm spot on the bed between his pillow and two sheets. "Come ON! I'll give you a cookie if you move!" Both eyes were opened this time, and the Linoone jumped happily out of bed and turned to face Kris with the eagerness of a puppy.
"Wha'. . . that actually worked? I thought old people hated sugar," commented Kris as he handed the energetic Pokémon a cookie and scratched it behind the ears. The Linoone responded by sniffing around Kris's palm, as though more cookies would appear if the hand was smelled enough. The wet charcoal nose traveled up the boy's arm, almost to the shoulder, when the Linoone paused abruptly. Growling, the already ruffled fur of the Pokémon stood on end as Ziggy backed away from Kris.
"What? What is it boy? Do ya' smell something?" Kris inquired. Out came the barks and yips of a reply, and Kris, having spent so much time with his Pokémon, could tell what was being said. "Listen, something happened today at school. I'll show you, but you have to swear on your tail that you won't tell Mom or Dad. Promise, Ziggy?" The Linoone nodded vigorously, sensing the seriousness of the situation. Kris sighed and willed for his newborn wings to unfurl. Almost instantly they did, creating a slight wind in their wake as they moved apart, with the folds of scaly skin between the bones stretched to full extent. "There. You see?"
Ziggy was speechless, for he had never seen anything like this in his many- year life. "Yeah, that's how I felt." Kris said, reading the Pokémon's expression. "I just don't understand it!" he exclaimed, flopping onto his bed and letting the Linoone curl up next to him. "Darn, this is so confusing. What am I supposed to tell Mom and Dad? 'Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad! Guess what? I've been bullied in school for the past three years, and today when I stood up to the bully I grew wings and summoned fire.' Dramatic pause. 'So? Any idea what possessed me?' Nope, I don't think that speech will fly."
Kris ran his hand down Ziggy's back. Stroking the warm fur made him calm down a bit, the stress flowing away with the eddies of passing time. After all, it was only four-thirty, surely he would think of a promising way to tell his parents by then. . .
The rumbling of the opening garage door met Kris's ears, and he was only dimly aware that an opening garage meant that his parents were home. In fact, he didn't even realize they were until his mother called up the stairs, "Kris, honey! We're home! We picked up a few Poké-burgers to-go on the way home; do you want one?"
Kris leapt up. Parents. Parents! "Crap, they're not supposed to be back yet!" But the clock proved him wrong, the blinking numerals clearly read to be five twenty-two. He was going to have to think up something good - and fast - if he was going to tell his parents without making them die of shock.
"Kris? Did you hear me?" Pam asked, stepping on the first stair and craning her neck to see the boy's bedroom door.
"Yes Mom!" Kris cried shrilly, hoping that his mother wouldn't notice the unnatural amount of anxiety in his voice.
"Honey? Are you all right?" came the reply from downstairs.
"Damn," Kris mumbled to himself. "It's nothing! I'll be down in a minute!" Please go away, thought Kris.
"Okay. I'm sorry to bother you, dear." Kris strained his ears until he could hear the sounds of someone rattling around in the kitchen. He got to his feet and ruffled Ziggy's fur. "Well, are ya' with me, buddy?" Ziggy gave a happy bark, and a smile drew itself upon Kris's mouth. "All right then. Time to face the music." Together the two trod down the stairs, taking in deep breaths, and Kris pushing his mind to the limit for a reasonable explanation, not knowing that he was about to receive a detailed one himself.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
SC: Okay, okay, I know that's a really bad place for a cliffhanger, but hey! I like making annoying cliffhangers. It gives the reader a chance to try and predict what happens next. ^__^ I repeat, I am SORRY for the late update! Blame Science Fair, go on, the lot of ya'! *cough* I hope y'all liked this chappy, because I spent much time spazzing out over it. I really hate curse words, but in order to make Kris sound more realistic I put them in. *shudder* This will take getting used to. Anyway, expect to see a LONG chapter next time (can't make any promises, but I'm pretty sure it wil be LONG). Later!
A special note to reviewer Iveechan: Thank you. Your review made me feel really good about myself, my story, and my "talents" (it that's what one would call them) as a writer. It makes me feel happy, and you inspired me to write this chapter as quickly as was possible with school. This chapter's for you! ^__~