DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon, m'kay?
Dedication: Jarkes—an anonymous reviewer—for his vote of constant confidence.
Chapter Rating: T for swearing and Drew wondering why some people think he's gay.
OC'S In Use: Lyokoluva's JoJo Dodgson and Aqua059's Holly

So. Thank you all SO much for the reviews (and the OCs). They made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

As you may have noticed, I decided to do my A/N's like this for now. Lots more organized, no? I never really liked constantly using bold. As an additional note, this is the last chapter for which you can submit OCs. See the OC submission form in chapter three's end Author's Notes if you wish to submit one.

And now, without further ado, allow me to present to you the rewritten chapter five of Johto Adventures!

Chapter Five—Cherrygrove Contest Part One

Cherrygrove City Pokemon Center—07:00, September 6: Thursday

Brendan Ruby Birch leapt punctually out of bed, just as the ramshackle alarm clock to the right of his pillow began giving its routine series of high-pitched beeps. He lightly tapped the top of the beeping clock to silence it—then, stretching in his newly purchased pajamas (which he was planning on redesigning somewhere in the very near future—Ick, red and neon-purple do NOT go, any fashion idiot could see that), Brendan made his way towards his pile of clothes.

The previous night, he had piled all of his dirty clothes into the Pokemon Center's shared laundry room, letting May and Max heap their own soiled outfits into it discreetly, so he would not experience the displeasure of seeing Max's probably Treeko-printed boxers. Now, as he shifted through the piles of multi-colored cloth he bought yesterday at the closest cloth-stocked convenience store with which he intended to create May's Pokemon's clothes, Brendan pulled out his old yellow-cuffed outfit and proceeded into the small bathroom to change.

Several minutes later, he exited, completely refreshed; he even had the time to swipe on a little—Just a little! Brendan reassured himself, nothing too feminine—mascara and had applied the faintest tinge of red lipstick to his reasonably pallid lips. He was reasonably satisfied that he had been able to find the right shade of it to compliment his eye color.

In fact, it was his Gallade who procured his whole makeup kit from who-knows-where with a simple extended 'Teleport' in the first place. Brendan didn't even know his Pokemon retained the ability to move things psychically with his telepathic powers, since Ruru already knew four physical techniques. Well, he wasn't complaining that the Gallade's memory was more retentive than usual.

Shrugging the thought away, Brendan pulled his Pokeball belt from underneath the pile of cloth and strapped it around his waist, before exiting through the doorway and closing the door carefully behind himself so as to not awaken May or Max. He proceeded down the escalator, which had just begun working, and, after waving cordially to a practically beaming Nurse Joy, left the Pokemon Center through the sliding doors.

He shivered slightly at the sudden drop in temperature—although not very large—and plunging his gloved hands into his pants' pockets, shuffled down the street and headed straight towards the spacious courtyard he and May had trained in the previous day. Brendan recalled, after winning to May in the first round, deliberately feigning loss in the next two that ensued so as to boost her morale, having forgotten about trying not to destroy her self-confidence in the midst of battle and the agony of trying to get his Milotic to obey him.

Needless to say, his Aggron was not altogether happy about purposefully 'losing' against May's Squirtle—whom Brendan learned through battle was relatively fast and good at defenses but lacking in attack power despite his small size and lack of evolutionary advantage. Brendan's Dragonite Dradra, always the studious and staid one, however, didn't mind that much about losing against May's most vociferous Eevee, who Brendan found out was disturbingly agile and had a powerful array of attack moves to match with though lacking in defenses.

"Come on out, Ruru," Brendan said as he flipped out the Gallade. The Blade Pokemon courteously bowed when he solidified a few seconds later.

'Why did you let Mimi battle May's Blaziken?' Ruru demanded uncharacteristically quickly and harshly. Brendan cocked an eyebrow—it was unusual for his Gallade to be so churlish. Then as if trying to compensate for his burst of rudeness, added in a noticeably strained telepathic voice, 'Master?'

"Didn't I tell you not to call me that?" Brendan asked tiresomely, shaking his head.

'Sorry. . . master. But please, I implore you to answer my question.'

"Well. . . I kind of forgot about the promise I made to you, and besides, Milotic had been cooped up in that Pokeball for several hours straight without really doing anything—you know how grumpy she can get if she doesn't stretch herself for a whole day." The Trainer explained.

'I see. Shall we start our morning routine, then?' Ruru inquired. Brendan, who had slowly been drawing back in preparation of their daily spar, nodded and without further ado, lunged at Ruru, who nimbly dodged the savage attack at his abdomen.

Exactly thirty-two seconds later, the Gallade had Brendan pinned onto the ground. He lifted his hands to signal defeat, and Ruru drew back, allowing his Trainer to indignantly pull himself to his feet and dust his pants.

'That was fast.' Ruru commented dryly. Brendan shot him a glare before extinguishing the somewhat degrading option of asking his Gallade to coach him in the martial arts, though his systematic and ever-logical brain did stow that notion somewhere in the back of his mind for future reference, should they be in immediate danger from. . . Aerodactyl or something.

However, Brendan couldn't restrain himself from making a sarcastic retort of his own. "No freaking shit."

Ruru tilted his ivory-and-celadon head to one side, as if contemplating his Trainer's (more than) slight change in attitude. Brendan helped dismiss his Gallade's misgivings with an informal wave before trying to switch the subject with, "Wanna help me sew?"

The Gallade's sophisticated façade shattered as he parted his small mouth to form a puzzled and surprised expression; however, he quickly picked up the remnants to form a mask of lopsided dignified apprehension. 'Excuse me?'

"You heard what I said."

'When you said sew, did you mean sew-sew?'

"Yes."

'I thought you dropped that habit years ago when your father—' Ruru began to say, stopping abruptly when Brendan shot him a practically murderous glare. The Gallade then obediently succumbed to his Trainer's demands and hurriedly teleported the necessary equipment from the Pokemon Center to in front of themselves with a strong flick of his psychic powers.

"Good," Brendan finally said, nimbly plucking the required cloth—all dark—from the floating pile of stuff. After selecting several other necessary items, such as a needle and a wheel of elegant raven thread, he let Ruru return the lessened pile back to the Pokemon Center. "Now. Let's get working, shall we?"

He perched himself on the side of the fountain and, taking a particularly glossy looking piece of long black cloth, began cutting meticulously with a pair of scissors while Ruru kept the rest of the materials suspended in midair.

Cherrygrove City—08:42, September 6: Thursday

May's Eevee hopped around on her four small, cream-furred paws, wagging her bushy brown tail around energetically as May tried (and failed) to return her to the Pokeball. She dove through the earth with immaculate ease, only to appear out of the floor several moments later, twitching her fox-like ears in a manner just to annoy her master.

The brown-haired Coordinator's eye twitched ominously. The black-haired boy, who Eevee guessed to be a little older than May and whose Aggron was very scary, was watching May uncertainly and exchanging hesitant glances with Max, who had dropped the magazine he had been reading.

"Eevee! Get back in here! You don't need to be out right now!" May shouted angrily, brandishing the Pokeball in agony. Eevee wagged her tail rebelliously, a wicked grin forming on her feline face, which only caused May to cry in anguish.

"Chill, May," Brendan admonished, looking very nervous. May 'chilled' and jerkily stuffed Eevee's Pokeball back into her yellow fanny pack, though grumbling darkly as she did so. The DNA Pokemon turned to smugly simper in front of May's Blaziken—he was the one who was actually supposed to be out.

"All right now, Blaziken, let's see if these clothes fit," May said, turning her back on Eevee, who, by way of trying to recapture her master's attention, dove between May's two thin sock-wearing legs and rubbed affectionately against the brown-haired Coordinator's left ankle. The tense muscles in May's feet relaxed somewhat, and Eevee began plotting her next trick.

The DNA Pokemon spared her teammate some sentiment, though. The Eevee directed her large amber eyes upwards—and upwards—and upwards—and Blaziken couldn't be this tall, could he?—and upwards—and upwards—until her gaze swept the Blaze Pokemon's stiff head.

Blaziken looked highly uncomfortable as the Brendan boy, who was a little bit taller than himself, attempted to stuff a white shirt over his head. Long seconds later, the Blaze Pokemon looked awkward in his human wear, but Brendan didn't stop to give him a chance to collect his thoughts, and proceeded to thrust a new layer of darker cloth over his head.

It was all Eevee could do to prevent from laughing out loud. While Max revealed nothing in his dark blue eyes, only reverence shown on May's gleaming light-tan face as Brendan, for the finishing touch, tied a silk-like red piece of cloth around the Blaziken's forearm. The DNA Pokemon bounced back to get a better look of her teammate, and could not help but guffaw quietly at the sight of Blaziken strutting about uncomfortably in his tuxedo. Yes. Tuxedo.

"Wow! Blaziken looks really cool, Brendan!" May beamed, lacing her arms appreciatively around the black-haired boy's neck. His milky-white complexion began to glow pink, but Eevee decided not to waste her time on frivolous matters such as the color changes of human faces. Instead, she leapt onto a curb to better examine the Blaziken.

To be completely honest, Eevee didn't think Blaziken looked that bad, just a little out-of-place. Pokemon didn't normally wear clothing after all, but Eevee thought that the Blaziken just might be able to pass for a long-haired blond human if Brendan or someone redid the Blaze Pokemon's two streaks of creamy head feathers.

Blaziken didn't look as if he shared Eevee's views on this, though; he clucked his red beak in embarrassment—perhaps partially because of Eevee's laughter—and lowered his head so that his beak was hidden entirely in his small mane of light-colored feathers.

".:Well, it's not all that bad,:." Eevee remarked.

".:Easy for you to say. Didn't you hear what that blue-haired receptionist lady said? I'm supposed to look like this in front of hundreds of humans and their Pokemon,:." Blaziken retorted in his usual scratchy voice, crossing his gray-scaled arms over his black-clothed chest..

".:Of course I heard. I have the best hearing of all you prats,:." Eevee replied snappily, arrogantly thrusting her small head into the air and streamlining her elongated ears against her bushy furred neck.

".:You only remind us every three seconds,:." Blaziken said, pulling his head out of his mane to roll his eyes so that Eevee could see. She glowered at him, and deciding that since she was obviously not getting the attention that she heartily deserved, leapt back into her Pokeball as obediently as ever.

Cherrygrove City Contest Hall—10:51, September 6: Thursday

Andrew Rosalind leaned back against a random locker, glad to be deprived of his most supportive fangirls' screams and shouts of 'Marry me!' and 'I want to bear your children!' He shuddered at the memories. Truth be told, he did not mind the extra attention he received, nor the bountiful presents delivered to him at regular intervals, but sometimes the girls' suggestions were a little overwhelming; not the mention the disturbing fact that there were some boys in the mix.

Fangirls, Drew observed, aren't all that bad. Unless they go on one of their 'sprees'. He shuddered and felt glad that none of the other Coordinators in the locker room were fans of his—well, to be more specific, fangirls; or even worse, fanboys. Drew was sick of explaining to all his queer fanboys and occasional yaoi fangirls that he was not gay. Sure, he was a Coordinator, which had feminine allusions, and, if he must admit it himself, he was drop-dead gorgeous, but that did not necessarily mean that he was gay.

Continuing his ponderings on fangirlism, Drew came to the conclusion that only the truly obsessed fangirls were the ones he had to watch out for; and also the ones who would interrupt his conversations with May. At this thought, he knitted his green brows in distaste. He really didn't like it when people interrupted him on the whole, but he hated it especially when they interrupted his conferences with May. Why, though, escaped him.

Tilting his head to one side and allowing his silky chartreuse hair to cascade into his emerald eyes, he wondered why May hadn't shown up yet. The preliminary rounds of the Contest were bound to start in less than ten minutes, and yet there was no sign of her cute red bandana. Er, he meant ugly, horribly designed, excuse for a head dressing, as Drew had so graciously informed May of on several occasions.

"Silly girl," He muttered to himself as fresh memories of his encounter with May drifted luxuriously through his mind. However, as the more recent reminiscences crossed his brain, Brendan entered his head and Drew found himself tightening his grip around his Absol's Pokeball so hard that he heard the Disaster Pokemon give an audible whimper of uncertainty.

Swear words gathered themselves on the tip of Drew's tongue, but he held them back and resumed a sulky demeanor, flicking his bangs irritably out of his vision. He couldn't quite say why, but he hated Brendan, down to his very guts; everything from his girly mannerisms—come on, sewing?!—to his black-and-green sneakers.

However, what Drew hated the most about Brendan was how he was traveling with May. A few days previously, the green-haired Trainer had entertained the possibility of asking May to come with him on his Pokemon journey. . . but now that stupid Brendan had taken it! Why was it every time Drew was so close. . .?!
First, I need to kill Brendan, Drew contemplated, half-jokingly, half-serious. Then, I'll get May. No, wait, that sounded a little drastic. And why did he want May?He shook the thought away and took some time in examining the people surrounding him.

There weren't a lot of particularly intriguing people, though two people in particular caught Drew's interest. One, a tall boy a few inches shorter than Drew, was quite conspicuous, owing to the fact that he was clutching a large PokeEgg in his arms. Drew eyed the Coordinator's frayed blue jeans critically and silently deplored the teenager's shoulder-length brown hair, and the several streaks of shiny blond hair that ran through the mass of russet was somewhat annoying, to Drew at least.

The other was a girl who looked no older than ten years of age and who was clad in a plain white T-shirt and khaki shorts that seemed a bit too staid for her terra-cotta hair. A Phanpy, wearing a sizeable lemon-yellow one-piece dress, was constantly curling and uncurling at his somewhat short Trainer's feet. The girl, meanwhile, displayed only mixed nervousness and fear in her large gray-green eyes.

Drew looked away. Boring, He thought to himself, flicking his hair in a blasé manner and checking his fingernails to make sure that he had not accidentally chipped his recently manicured nails. When at last he was satisfied, the green-haired Coordinator glanced upwards to notice May bouncing in through the open door, wearing an expression of determination and excitement on her practically radiant face.

Smirking, Drew thought to himself, Talk about timing, and flipped out his Roselia, who appeared in a beam of red light. The Thorn Pokemon annoyingly tugged at her purple shirt, which Drew had slaved over for quite some time, and stiffly unfurled her two hand-held roses while edgily fidgeting in her layered pink skirt. Overall, Drew was rather pleased with the outfit he managed to design, though it stilled look a little weird, and probably was not very comfortable to wear.

Well, I almost forgot that anything I made is nothing short of perfection, Drew reminded himself. Redirecting his attention to May, who was introducing herself to the Phanpy's Coordinator, he sauntered overly swaggeringly to gain her attention.

May, slightly disoriented, turned her electric blue gaze to meet Drew's eyes. He appreciated the tranquil beauty her eyes possessed, though at the present moment, his goal was to cause her as much distress as possible. Drew was a weird person in many ways."Oh, May, so you really did enter the Contest?"

He saw her expression harden and could almost hear Butterfree fluttering in her stomach. "Well of course, Drew. I'm a Pokemon Coordinator, after all, so you can't expect me to miss out on any Contests!"

"Based on your tardy record, a complete idiot can confidently say that you probably won't arrive on time for any Contest." Drew retaliated coolly as his Roselia twitched in her outfit. He watched as May huffed in reply and as her gaze dropped to the Thorn Pokemon's clothing and as her eyes widened in astonishment.

"Wow!" May could not restrain herself from blurting.

"As I've told you before, nothing that I do can ever go wrong," Drew said thickly, flipping his hair to boost his egotism. May frowned and looked as if she regretted her words.

"Well, I bet my Blaziken's outfit is ten times better than your Roselia's!" May retorted, huffing again and crossing her arms defiantly over her voluptuous chest. Drew tried hard not to look there.

"We'll see." Drew said simply, imitating May and crossing his arms over his own chest.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," May replied, attempting to copy Drew's smug voice. She failed.

The intercom buzzed to life, and the previously somewhat subdued crowd buzzed to life as well. The Coordinators muttered amongst themselves as the clear voice of a woman blared over the loudspeaker, "May Holly Ark please report to the stage to begin part one of the Contest."

The terra-cotta haired girl Drew had spared a glance not so long ago immediately leapt from the seat she had been sitting on and grabbed her Phanpy, looking practically terrified. She ran towards a random wall only to smack into a locker. Confused, she gathered her bearings and continued towards the correct door; the anticipated roar of the crowd drifted through the door as Holly opened it and disappeared as it closed.

Drew sniggered at the girl's mishap, but May simply looked sympathetic, something which the brown-haired Coordinator was too much of to be safe. Oddly enough, it was a quality Drew rarely found in other people, and even more oddly, he found this especially appealing in May, though he never told her. Shrugging the thought away, he waited for his turn.

A minute later, the Holly and her Phanpy burst back through the door. Both Coordinator and Pokemon looked positively terrified, though the reckonable roar of the crowd behind the door begged to say otherwise. Drew had other thoughts on his mind, though—the crowd's loud noises could easily be boos. Couple that with the fact that there was a squashed tomato on the girl's forehead.

The green-haired teenager refrained from commenting rudely—he had never out-right insulted anyone in public, save for May. Said brown-haired girl, however, warmly said in the direction of the young girl, "Are you all right?"

Holly looked towards May, ostensibly surprised that she had spoken. Her face bore an expression of palpable alarm. "Uh, yeah, I guess so," She answered, hesitantly and nervously while her Phanpy helped lick off the tomato from her forehead. Red juice ran down the sides of her cheeks, and she pulled out a large bunch of tissues from her left shorts pocket and began wiping her face.

Undeterred by the auburn-haired girl's erratic actions, May put in, "Well, I'm sure you'll do better next time."

"Oh, er, thanks, I guess," The girl said, raising her eyebrows in a taken-aback manner. Drew didn't blame her—May's direct ways surprised a lot of people. Before the brown-haired Coordinator could continue, however, a certain purple-haired Coordinator distracted her, and everyone within a mile-wide radius.

"MAY! Is that you, hun?" A high-pitched forced-sounding feminine voice shrieked. Drew cringed instinctively and very edgily pivoted on the spot so that he could just barely make out the tall, lanky figure of none other than the infamous Harley.

Said gender-confused Coordinator had sprayed excessive amounts of perfume onto himself; Drew turned away to prevent from gagging. Harley's wavy waist-length dark wisteria hair swung back and forth excitably as he giggled away while chatting nonsense with May, who looked respectably apprehensive.

"Oh, no," Drew heard May groan quietly.

"Oh my Arceus! Like May! It's really you! Haha, I'd recognize your tomato-red"—Holly's eyebrows disappeared higher into her mass of red-brown hair at the analogy—"bandana anywhere! Seriously! Wow! So you really did come to Johto, huh? Wow! That's pretty amazing! I thought that you'd be lost, but. . ." Harley's previously positively blissful expression rapidly distorted to one of sourness, but he plastered on a huge smile so quickly it was startling.

"Er," May began uncertainly, flashing her large almond-shaped eyes despairingly toward Drew. He felt his pulse quicken for a split second before it slowed down to normal speed.

"Wow! May! We have so much catching up to do!" Harley exclaimed, clasping his rather spider-like hands together in excitement. Drew, bemused, watched as May recoiled in horror and as her right hand twitch toward her yellow fanny pack. Too soon, however, Harley was already engaging her in fervent conversation, albeit the talking was very much one-sided. The green-haired Coordinator wondered vaguely when the talk would end.

Cherrygrove Contest Hall—11:18, September 6: Thursday

Maybelline Sapphire Maple squirmed in her seat, waiting impatiently for her name to be called. Drew stood next to her, leaning coolly against the locker, and probably thinking of another insult to throw at her. However, May didn't preoccupy her thoughts with Drew, though she desperately wanted something to distract herself from the Contest and strangely enough talking with Drew usually made her forget about her nerves, and instead focused them on not collapsing on the floor when it came her turn.

Well, at least Harley went to use the bathroom. . . May thought to herself optimistically. Though the fact that he had been in there for well over ten minutes was unnerving; May wondered what could possibly be taking so long, and prayed to Latias that he was suffering a severe case of constipation.

"May May Maple please report to the stage." The loudspeaker boomed.

With unnessecary vigor, May bounced up, squealing insanely, "That's me! That's me!" and earning herself a few odd looks from nearby Coordinators and a patronizing smirk from Drew. Rushing through the door, she leapt energetically onto the wooden stage, staring into the dark abyss that was the audience.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tilted her head upwards, looking at the huge Contest Hall. The décor was highly ornate and mostly pink as if to complement the whole color theme of the town. The stage was far larger than May had envisioned it to be, as if Johto's Contest Halls were trying to outdo their Kanto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh counterparts.

She flung her Blaziken's Pokeball into the air. The Blaze Pokemon appeared in a beam of red light. If the Blaziken was nervous, he sure did not show it. Standing at an intimidating six foot three, the fire-typed Pokemon thrust his head confidently into the air, showing off his sleek black tuxedo.

The effect was immediate. The audience began clapping and shouting uproariously. May's blue gaze flitted to a glowing bar somewhere above her head that spelled in large letters, "CROWD BAR." Below the shining pink letters, liquid-like light began filling up the bar. Just a few bare seconds later, the entire thing was filled. May was nearly deafened by the incredible amount of sound the audience was making, and could barely comprehend the popularity of her Blaziken's costume.

The three judges, whom May had just noticed, hit buttons on their separate panels and three '10's shimmered into being on the large screen above her head. Her heart swelled with pride, though all that came out of her mouth were stuttering "thank yous".

The orange-haired MC danced onto the stage, next to a still-stuttering May, waving cordially at the crowd and remarking into her microphone, "Well, that sure is an awesome outfit, May! It's also the first time in Johto's Contest history that both the crowd bar and the judges' scores are perfect! Ms. Maple's name is going down in the records!"

The crowd responded by raising its volume. May simply did not know what to say; suddenly, a qualm of guiltiness hit her. I didn't make the costume. Brendan did. Her heart immediately deflated and continued shrinking. Shakily, she returned her Blaziken and half-walked half-ran off the stage, much to the audience's disappointment.

A nasty feeling began bubbling in the pit of her stomach, but she ignored it and walked back into the Coordinator's locker room, collapsing feebly and half-heartedly pushing Blaziken's Pokeball into her fanny pack, muting the comforting chirps he had been giving her.

"What's the matter, May?" The serene but drawling voice of Drew came from somewhere above her. Her bottom lip wobbled, and she swallowed a cantaloupe-sized lump in her throat. "You look nervous. Did the audience throw vegetables at you?"

Guiltiness transformed readily into anger. "Hey! No, they didn't!" She turned her blue gaze to irately face Drew.

"Then why such the long face?" The green-haired Coordinator asked, suavely flicking his bangs to further irritate May. A low growl escaped her throat, and cogs in her brain turned as she searched for a smart retort.

"For your information! I got a perfect score, Mister big head!" She snapped, widening one eye and twitching the other.

Drew raised an eyebrow in disbelief, though he lowered it rather quickly. "You're still avoiding my question."

May could only gape. I can't believe this guy! I got a perfect score, went down in history, AND THAT'S WHAT HE SAYS?!

"Yoo-hoo? You deaf?" Taunting, as usual.

"No. . ." May grinded out, fighting the instinctive urge to slam her partially gloved fist in Drew's smug-looking face. She contented herself with swearing inwardly at the green-haired teenager. To her sincere surprise, Drew didn't make any further snide remarks. On a whimsical sort of self-dare, May glanced up towards the boy only to see him sniggering contemptuously at the screen.

At that moment, however, the tall egg-clutching boy had walked over. May turned quizzically toward the approaching Coordinator, her eyebrows disappearing into her unruly brown bangs, hazily remembering him as a certain J-something D-something. Drew continued watching the screen, though May thought his eyebrow moved in uncertainty.

"Hi! My name's JoJo!" The brown-haired Coordinator said excitably, grasping May's hand before she could respond. May, being somewhat used to such direct greetings, readily returned the handshake and beamed at him—she enjoyed socializing above almost everything except for a decent meal and. . . a decent meal. Seeing out of the corner of her eye, May could have sworn she saw Drew snigger contemptuously at the brown-haired Coordinator. "I'm from Twinleaf! What's your name? Where're you from?"

"Hello! My name's May Maple, and I come from Petalburg City!" May replied, reciting an overused speech she had stored in her vastly empty brain.

"No! You can't be—are you the daughter of that Norman guy?" Jojo asked, ogling May as if she were some celebrity; or, in this cause, some daughter of a celebrity.

"Yes! His name's not Norman guy, his name's Norman Maple, though," May corrected.

"Oh. Okay. Anyway. . . I heard you placed fourth in the Kanto Grand Festival? How'd you do that? That's really good! I've only managed to place in the top sixteen of the Sinnoh Grand Festival. . ." The Coordinator trailed off, looking slightly disappointed.

May opened her mouth to reply, but Drew unexpectedly answered the question for her. "She only managed to place so high because I let her."

JoJo hesitantly turned toward the green-haired Coordinator, who contemptuously pursed his lips and flicked his bangs in an overly casual manner. "And you are?" The brown-haired male asked. However, his left blue eye gleamed in recognition and he quickly corrected himself with an almost apologetic, "Wait, you're Drew Rosalind!"

"You got one thing right there, kid," Drew remarked patronizingly by way of reply.

"Woah. . ." JoJo said, looking as if he were reeling in from an extremely important piece of information that somehow altered his life. May wondered why everyone seemed to idolize Drew. He wasn't that great of a person, save for his beautiful head of silky green hair and most alluring pair of emerald eyes and the way his eyes twinkled sincerely whenever he let a rare laugh escape his throat—

Ah. That was why.

Shaking the thought away, the girl curled her gloved fists into balls, remembering the last thing Drew had said. Oh, they'll see.

Author's Notes:

I've only managed to include two OCs in this chapter. . . Sorry, but I just couldn't write any more people inside without making this chapter reallybig. I also apologize to the respective owners if I've butchered their looks/personalities. Even then they weren't featured so much. . . but they'll get more appearances in the future.

As you have probably noticed, or not, I tried my best to give the Pokemon some personalities. I haven't watched all that many Battle Frontier episodes, so what I know comes from several youtube sessions, Serebii, and Bulbapedia, so if I make a huge mistake regarding Pokemon personalities, please do inform me of it.

I'm sorry this chapter's a little shorter than the rest, but if I tried to squeeze in the ENTIRE Contest, trust me, it would have been AT LEAST twice as long. :P Hope you don't mind. Also, this is the LAST CHAPTER for which I am accepting OC's! I won't be accepting any until at least chapter eight.

Next Chapter Preview—

Harley sat on the toilet, fiddling with the hems of his long green sleeves. Latias, he would teach those brats a lesson! Anguishly, he tugged at his long purple hair as he desperately tried to think of a plan. Gah! He had used up all his plans lettered A—K, and he was just working on 'L' when his Wigglytuff accidentally 'wet' his Pokeball for the second time that day.

The purple-haired Coordinator was interrupted rudely by someone rapping sharply on the lavatory door. Irritably, he pulled up his pants, since he did not actually use the bathroom, and twisted on the tap to give the impression that he was washing his hands. Ending the flow of water with another twist of the tap, he irritably jerked open the plastic door, hissing an equally agonized 'what the heck do you want?!' across the thin threshold.

"You've been in there for twenty minutes," An angry, high-pitched feminine voice hissed back. Harley squinted his eyes and scrutinized the tall girl standing in front of himself. Black hair was pulled into a high, sophisticated bun, tied with a light azure ribbon, and he instinctively shuddered under her piercing yellow-green gaze.

"Oh have I, hun?!"

—End Preview

Ooh! Can't you just guess who the (new?) character is? Heh.

Please review!