The yard had never been so lonely.

The porch still creaked when I stepped on all the sensitive boards, but it wasn't the same. Even the wind-chime wasn't quite in the key I was used to. And the bench where I sat felt a little bit colder against my bare legs than I had remembered.

But some glimmers of the not-so-distant past still remained. The way that the setting sun casted shadows between the trees and the fence was exactly as it was on many evenings. The grass was beginning to grown out, but patches of raw dirt still made their presence known. The tree beside it, which used to hold a large, rice-filled punching bag, was now bare and freed of its heavy burned. Father had already taken it down. Only the frayed end of a rope still remained, swinging back and forth ominously like a hangman's noose.

As a warm breeze swept by, I swung my bare feet back and forth gently like I always used to. Perhaps if I closed my eyes for a moment, I could turn time back for a second or two. Sadly, it wouldn't work that way. It was too quiet and too barren. I couldn't even fool myself.

One of my bare feet nudged a bit of cloth next to it, unexpectedly. The piece of cloth in question was a fragment of a backpack—the same pack I had been carrying around since grade school. Right now, it was stuffed full of every little thing I could fit. Clothes, non-perishables, soap—and those were just a few of the necessities. This wasn't a camping trip, and it wasn't a weekend vacation. It was decided, by me and me alone, that tonight I would leave this town. Would I ever come back? Who knew…?

But I didn't care too much about that.

XxxX

I dropped my backpack in the living room and quickly stripped off my uniform shirt. The itchy collar and hot, constrictive sleeves were too much for me to bear for a moment longer. I hated that pleated-skirt establishment. Quickly, I un-tucked my plain white tank top and threw off my shoes and socks, leaving them in the center of the floor like most thirteen-year olds tend to do. Mom and dad weren't home, and my classes had ended at noon today due to some teacher appreciation event I didn't give a damn about. I guess you could call me a latchkey kid.

Just as I was stretching my arms over my head and savoring the endorphins, the front yard suddenly erupted with sound. Maybe it was a building collapsing, maybe a flying saucer landing in our lawn…but more likely, it was just Knox.

Sure enough, I took one peek through the sliding glass door and there he was, standing frozen in the center of the yard with a large, broken tree branch at his feet, punching bag still attached. It would appear that our dear hitmonchan had underestimated his strength. Again. The poor guy looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"Good job!" I yelled mockingly, making an ugly face against the glass. Knox nearly jumped out of his boxing gloves. He glanced up at me, wide-eyed, with an expression that clearly told me he wasn't aware of my shortened schedule.

I flung the door open and skipped down the porch steps, blinking into the glaring sunlight. Amidst all of my joyous giggles and immature teasing, Knox still wore that apologetic look that a child wears before being reprimanded by an adult. But would I ever do that to him? Certainly not. I found the whole situation to be quite hilarious, actually.

Knox thought otherwise. Still looking shamefully down at the dirt, he presented the side of his face to me as though expecting me to slap it.

But I didn't slap him. Instead, I spread my arms out and smiled at my friend expectantly. "Aren't you gonna welcome me home?" I asked with a feigned pout.

There was a sudden change in the atmosphere at that point. The Pokémon's face slowly transformed from a terrified grimace to a surprised smile as he realized the difference between a master and a friend. A master will punish you for mistakes and push you to fix them. A friend, however, will help you make it right. While my father called himself a master—harsh and always exacting his brutality—I did not. With that, I offered myself up for a friendly hug.

He gladly accepted the gesture.

XxxX

As the minutes passed, looking out into the yard became increasingly more difficult. The sun was already below the horizon and its light was moving out quickly. It must have had someplace to go, something to do there, other people to grace. And so I thought to myself, to be like the sun—to leave and just keep moving—might be for the best. Perhaps one day, I might even find myself back where I started.

But I'm not the sun. I'm just a girl; one without the perfect body, without perfect skin or hair, and without the courage to be more than what I already am.

Most importantly, I'm a girl without her best friend.

They say that if you really want something, you have to fight for it. Now I don't know who 'they' is, but as I sat alone on that swinging bench, the thought occurred to me that my good friend Knox wasn't going to come back on his own. At least, not after my father threatened him with a shotgun to the head. And although I may not be brave or strong or particularly talented, the truth still remains; the only thing keeping me from running out of this town right now was my mother and father.

But let's be honest…what did I owe them?