Catching up with Barry Pearl three years
after his Frontier Brain dreams fell apart
Nikki Martinez, Entertainment
Nov. 8, 2011
In late 2008, Barry Pearl was on top of the
world: He had ranked within the Top 32 of
six League competitions across Napaj; he
had earned all six Symbols from both the
Kanto and Sinnoh Battle Frontiers; and he
was on the precipice of following in his
father Palmer Pearl's footsteps and
becoming a Sinnoh Frontier Brain.
That all fell apart on Jan. 8, 2009, when
Coordinators Weekly published photos of
Pearl and Kyle Tribaldos, a well-known
coordinator in the Sinnoh contests circuit,
kissing on the front cover.
The two, according to Pearl, had been
dating in secret for nearly six months by
then.
"He was very adamant about keeping the
whole thing under wraps," Pearl said. "Even
my closest friends didn't know."
Pearl hadn't been worried when the photos
published. He said he felt secure in his
relationship. But Pearl quickly learned that
Tribaldos was not as unbothered by the
public outing of their relationship.
One week after the photos were published,
Tribaldos went to Weekly and claimed there
was never any relationship and that Pearl
had "forced himself" on him. The scandal
that ensued was enough for Pearl to
withdraw his name from the short list of
those who would become the next Sinnoh
Frontier Brain following his father's
retirement.
Pearl was heartbroken.
"It wasn't just that I wasn't going to be
Sinnoh Frontier Brain anymore," he said. "I
had also lost someone who I, at the time,
loved a bunch. That was really why I felt like
I had to disappear for a bit."
Since then, Pearl has, in a sense,
reinvented himself. He worked for the
Contests in Unova campaign in mid-2009,
became ordained to officiate weddings, and
married three different couples: Drew
Hayden and May Maple, Paul Rebolledo
and Dawn Berlitz, and Ash Ketchum and
Misty Waterflower.
"Being able to bring together some of my
closest friends—it made me less depressed,
you know?" he said. "Seeing and being a
part of their relationships, it helped me to
realize that mine wasn't very good and
move on."
And move on Pearl has: He revealed that
he has since begun dating again but
declined to name his new boyfriend.
"I'll let him take the lead on this," Pearl said.
"We'll let everyone know when we're ready."
Pearl has also recently re-entered his name
into the running for a Sinnoh Frontier Brain
as Kate Argenta recently announced she
would be stepping down.
Follow the reporter Nikki Martinez at
nikki_martinez_et on Chatot.
The first thing Zoey woke up to on Election Day was a newspaper being thrown into her face and Candice screaming the words, "Did you know this was happening?!" Zoey was too groggy and caught off guard to make sense of a single thing she'd said—until she picked up the paper itself and noticed it was the entertainment section of the Hearthome Chronicle. And then she noticed the headline itself.
"What?!" Zoey was wide awake then, and she immediately began reading the article.
"I'm guessing that's a 'no,'" Candice said. "Barry or Lucas didn't bring it up with you? Who's Nikki Martinez?"
"No, neither of them mentioned it," Zoey mumbled as her eyes continued to scan the article. She was silent for a while, and it was only when she reached the line about how Barry had "reinvented" himself that she realized Candice had asked another question. She looked up at her, continuing, "Nikki Martinez is the columnist that Homa asked to cover contests while I was gone. I didn't even know she had gone back to the entertainment desk already."
Zoey herself hadn't even made it back to her old contests beat under the trainers desk. Over the course of the nearly seven months since the incident at the Grand Pewter in April, she and Ciara had, combined, published close to eighty pieces about Junia Stevens, her staffers, her campaign, Team Galactic, and Jennifer Dey (and her trial). There was simply no contest when it came to who championed the Stevens news coverage. Even Paul had said—perhaps jokingly, but it was difficult to tell—that the G-Men were struggling to keep up with her and Ciara.
Zoey had only arrived back in Sinnoh three days earlier after a two-week stint in Johto, where Marinda Ortiz and Satchel Thompson had purportedly been sighted in Olivine City. Nothing turned up with that, but Zoey had managed to snag an in-person interview with Charles Mook, now (finally) retired, for a story she was working on regarding the trainer database.
After she finished reading, Zoey set aside the newspaper and rubbed at her temple.
"Isn't this pretty much the exact story you pitched to Homa like… a year ago?" Candice asked. "It's weird Barry wouldn't have said anything either."
"Have you called him?" Zoey asked.
"No."
"Well, I'll call him then." Zoey reached for her cell phone sitting atop the nightstand, unplugged it from the charger, and brought up Barry's contact from under the Ps. She pressed the "call" button, and Candice sat on the edge of the bed, leaning close to Zoey to try to listen in on the impending conversation.
"IT'S ELECTION DAY!"
Just as soon as the pair had pressed their ears near the phone, they jerked away again, wincing. She and Candice exchanged exasperated looks with each other, and Zoey waited a moment before figuring Barry was done shouting into the receiver and she could safely hold the phone close to her again.
"Somebody's excited, huh?" Zoey remarked wearily as Candice practically squished her cheek against Zoey's to try listening again.
"Of course I'm excited!" Barry replied. "I'm waiting in line with Lucas to vote right now. What about you?"
"I just woke up."
"The lines are gonna get long if you wait too much," Barry tutted. "That's why Lucas and I got up early."
"I'll take my chances. Hey, uh," Zoey began her pivot toward the true reason she'd called, "I saw this morning that Nikki Martinez interviewed you for an article she published… ?"
"Huh? Oh yeah! She was pretty nice. She just called me out of the blue, like, a few days ago," Barry said.
"How come you didn't tell me?"
"Well, geez, I didn't know I was supposed to check in," Barry half-grumbled. "I thought you already knew about it anyway."
"Why's that?"
"I dunno—Nikki brought up that you were colleagues, so I figured you were the one who gave her my number," Barry answered with a shrug in his voice.
"I didn't," Zoey said.
"Oh, well… she got it somehow!" Barry said, sounding wholly unconcerned with the affair. Zoey couldn't say she felt the same, but she figured pushing Barry on it any more wouldn't yield any satisfying results—especially when, all things considered, this was a happy ending. Barry continued, "Anyway, we're gonna see you and Candice tonight, right?"
Zoey let out an inaudible sigh but smiled as she exchanged another look with Candice.
"Yeah, you'll see us," she said.
"Cool, cool," Barry said. "We're about to head inside, so talk to you later!"
"Bye, Barry."
She hung up and tossed the phone a foot away onto the comforter. Candice pursed her lips.
"Weird," she repeated.
"Yeah," Zoey agreed. She rested her chin on her fist for a moment, thinking. "... Would you mind if we went down to Hearthome early today?"
"... No?" Candice blinked. The change in subject, Zoey realized, must have been jarring. "What for, though?"
"I kind of want to go into the newsroom for a little bit."
"You're off work today," Candice pointed out.
"Yeah, and I'm the only journalist in all of Napaj who isn't working today," Zoey said. It was a hyperbolic statement, but Zoey was also pretty sure it wasn't far off from the truth. It was Napaj's first national democratic election, and it was all-hands-on-deck in every newsroom across the nation. "Not that I don't deserve a break after all the work I've been doing for the past year of my life, but I'm kind of curious to see what's going on. I'd also to talk to Nikki and Homa about—" She made a gesture toward the newspaper. "—that."
"Well… sure!" Candice easily agreed. "While you're at the Chronicle, I can do some shopping downtown."
"We can meet up afterward and go to a polling place," Zoey added,
"The lines will probably be longer in Hearthome than they will be here in Snowpoint," Candice warned.
"Yeah," Zoey conceded with a shrug. "But… I'm still not sure how I'm going to vote honestly."
"Really?"
Zoey hummed affirmatively, then inquired, "Do you?"
"Uh-huh. I've known for a while now," Candice said, nodding. "I—" She suddenly stopped herself. "No. I'm not gonna tell you," she decided.
"I'm not going to judge you either way," Zoey said.
"It's not that," Candice corrected. "I just don't want my opinion to influence you. You should get to make your own decision. I mean, you've been more invested in this election that most, and you ought to get to make your choice on your own."
"I've been invested in one ex-candidate," Zoey said, "and not for good reasons."
"The point still stands," Candice shrugged. "But—anyway, if you want to go down to Hearthome, we should leave soon."
"Yeah," Zoey agreed, throwing the comforter off her. "I'll just shower, and we can go."
Zoey was used to the Chronicle newsroom being a little chaotic. It was, after all, a newsroom, and the news was always changing, always developing, at a breakneck speed. But upon walking onto her floor, the one where the trainer news desk resided, she suddenly found "chaotic" was too conservative a term. The scene before her was an ever-shifting storm of people moving here to there, printers printing, reporters reporting. A cacophony of sounds rose up: phones ringing, a dozen conversations at once, computer keys clicking at a rapid-fire pace.
And the polls had only opened four hours earlier.
Zoey proceeded with caution, suddenly unsure of what to do with herself. A reporter scribbling on a notepad and talking into her cell phone nearly ran into her and paused only long enough to utter a hurried "Sorry!" before continuing on her way. Zoey didn't have a chance to repeat back the same polite platitudes. Blinking, she looked across the floor and through the plexiglass wall saw Homa sitting at her desk with a phone in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. Even from a distance, Zoey could see there were at least a half-dozen other cups sprawled haphazardly on her desk.
Zoey took a turn, heading into the small employee break room just around the bend of the next hallway. A half-full pot of coffee sat on the machine, and Zoey began to pour a cup. If she was going to interrupt Homa in the middle of a journalistic apocalypse, she had at least better bring a peace offering.
The break room's mounted television set was playing PNN. The anchors were, of course, discussing the election. The most recent Roto-Data polling showed Sinternik and Adalet neck-and-neck among voters with Sinternik polling only 1 percent higher—and a 2 percent margin of error. Meanwhile, they were waiting on results from today's exit polls.
"Careful—careful!"
Zoey snapped out of her thoughts and set the coffee pot down, realizing she'd nearly poured over the top of the cup and burned her hand. Zoey looked to her left to thank whoever had prevented a trip to the doctor's office and realized her mid-morning savior was in fact Nikki Martinez.
"You okay there?" Nikki asked. "You seriously spaced out for a moment."
"Yeah, yeah," Zoey hurriedly replied. "Thanks. I just got distracted."
Nikki breathed a disbelieving yet somehow still relieved sigh through her nose before her eyes rose to the screen. "Big day," she conceded. She looked back at Zoey before adding, "I thought you were off work today."
"I am," Zoey said, "but I was in the area. I thought I'd come by." A pause. Zoey glanced down at her darkened reflection in the coffee cup then back up at Nikki again. "Hey, so, I read your story this morning. I didn't know you'd moved back to entertainment."
"Oh, I technically haven't yet," Nikki said with a wave of her hand. "I'm still covering contests while you're out taking down major political campaigns at your leisure."
Zoey wasn't sure how she was supposed to react to that comment, so she didn't.
Nikki continued, "It was just a sort-of one-off thing for now. Your SinnoanTimes frenemy actually gave me the tip that I ought to follow up on it."
Zoey nearly took umbrage at Ciara being called her "frenemy"—even if it wasn't an inaccurate assessment—but she was too interested in this new tidbit of information to really care. "She did?" Zoey asked, raising an eyebrow.
Nikki hummed, adding, "She was in the office like last week bringing something from Alanis to Homa. I ended up chatting with her for a couple minutes, and she gave me Barry's number."
Ciara, Zoey decided, was a true enigma. She could be an utter pain in the ass while working together one night and then turn around the next and do something like this. Zoey appreciated that, and she supposed it was why they had still managed to work together without throttling each other over the past seven months.
"When I pitched the idea to Homa, though, she pretty much immediately shot me down," Nikki went on, arresting Zoey's full attention once again, "but she told me it should be covered—just under entertainment, and she leant me back to my old desk for the story."
And if Ciara was an enigma, then Homa was a paradox.
"Ah," Zoey said.
"What, hoping I was gone so you could go back to covering contests?" Nikki asked.
"No, I was just wondering," Zoey politely dismissed.
Homa's coffee would grow tepid if Zoey dawdled any longer, so she exchanged only a few more civil words with Nikki and went on her way. She returned to the pandemonium that was the Election Day newsroom and wove her way through the whitewater medley of other journalists moving about until she made it to Homa's office. She sat in the chair across from Homa, whom Zoey was not entirely convinced had even noticed she'd come in.
"Well, you need to get his number then," Homa said impatiently into the receiver. She was silent for a moment then, listening, but tapping the end of her pencil against her desk. "It's PNN. They're owned by the same company as us. They should give us the exit polling data." She was silent another moment. "Fine. I'll find the number, but you have to call them."
She promptly hung up. Then, she looked Zoey straight in the eye and said, "I'm going to scream."
Zoey didn't want to know why, but she supposed she was at least glad Homa had acknowledged her presence.
"I got you this," Zoey offered, holding out the cup of coffee she'd retrieved.
"Oh, you're a lifesaver, Williams," Homa said, gladly accepting Zoey's oblation. She held the cup close to her lips, carefully testing the temperature before taking a full sip. She then set the drink beside the litany of other empty coffee cups on her desk. If she wasn't her boss, Zoey might've told Homa she had a problem.
"So what can I help you with?" Homa asked. "I know you didn't come here just to chat."
"Would you be mad if I did?"
Someone shouted an unrelated curse out in the newsroom.
"A little, yeah," Homa said. Zoey did a mental calculation then: It probably took Homa about four minutes to get up, go to the break room, and pour a cup of coffee herself, and since Zoey had just spent about a minute gifting her with said cup of coffee, she had at least three minutes to say what she wanted before Homa kicked her out.
"I wanted to ask about Nikki Martinez's article this morning," Zoey said.
Homa half-scoffed and turned her attention to her computer. She started searching something up—probably the phone number of whoever the person she'd last spoken with needed.
"Yeah, don't say I never did anything for you," Homa said.
Zoey was almost touched.
"You did that for me?" she asked.
"Don't get too sentimental. I wasn't going to publish that garbage in my section," Homa said, "but it was a good fit for entertainment."
Zoey folded her hands in her lap and bit down a grin.
"Well—I appreciate it anyway," she said. "And you've done some nice work with Nikki while I've been gone. Her story almost read like a real news article today."
"She's gotten a lot better," Homa agreed. "Why the compliments for Nikki all of a sudden? Last year, you told me she could keep the seat warm and I'd want you back. Want her to keep warming your seat?"
Zoey blinked and it took a moment for her to realize what Homa was asking.
"Uh—yeah," Zoey found herself saying before she had even fully thought through her answer. "I'm happy doing what I'm doing right now."
Homa paused what she was doing just long enough to look at Zoey again. "Well, good," she said, "because I'd like to keep you there for a while. You and Ciara—you've been doing great work."
There were few things as validating as an utterly genuine compliment from Homa. Perhaps the only thing that could beat it was an utterly genuine compliment from Paul. A proud warmth grew out from Zoey's chest, and she felt herself sit a little taller.
"Thank you," she said, smiling. Homa smiled too, but then her phone rang again.
"It's your day off, and I'm sure Candice wants your company. You should go," Homa said as she reached for the receiver, "or else I'm going to end up putting you to work." She picked up the phone and tucked it under her ear. "What's up, Aiyalah?"
Zoey took the warning seriously and slipped out of her office.
Outside the agreed-upon polling place where they would meet, Candice texted to say she would be running a little late—traffic was more congested than usual—so Zoey found refuge in The Burmy Bean, only a block away, and decided to order herself some tea while she waited. The few television sets in the small café were also turned to PNN, which was reporting outside a polling location in Celadon City, Erol Adalet's hometown. Adalet had just cast his ballot.
"Mr. Adalet! Mr. Adalet!" Journalists were following Adalet out in the parking lot. "Would you like to make some comments, sir?"
"I'll take a few questions, yes," Adalet said in his usual manner of speaking—his firm, no-nonsense voice.
"How are you feeling this morning? Roto-Data's final poll showed Sinternik is ahead of you by 1 percent."
"I'm not concerned about that," Adalet answered, and he truly did look unfazed. "Regardless of who is elected, today is a victory for everyone in Napaj. That we are casting vote this morning, that speaks to the change I strive for in our country. If elected, I would continue to carry out that change, but I know Sinternik would as well."
"Thank you, Mr. Adalet."
Zoey watched the report attentively, nursing her drink as she did. It was an eloquent response to the question; Zoey would grant Adalet that much. His oratory prowess couldn't match that of Sinternik, an experienced politician, but what Adalet lacked in florid speech he made up for with a genuine rhetorical passion. What you saw was what you got. Zoey could appreciate that at least.
Back in the studio, the talking heads began discussing polling numbers again, and Zoey lost interest. She flipped over her cell phone and opened up Chatot to peruse her feed. Trip's girlfriend, Georgia, had Chatted a photo of them together waiting in line somewhere in Nimbasa City. Ash, meanwhile, had Chatted a picture of Misty, now many months pregnant and sporting an "I voted" sticker. Then there was Barry, screaming something in all caps about how excited he was to cast his ballot.
A thought occurred to Zoey, and she closed Chatot and opened her messages. It had been several days since she had last spoken with Ciara, but now was as good a time as ever.
Thanks.
Delivered
It was a simple message, no bells or whistles. Just an uncomplicated thank you. Zoey was prepared to turn her phone over again and resume watching PNN, but Ciara responded back almost immediately with one message, then another in quick succession.
Finally, I get some gratitude
out of you.
What's this for, by the way?
For some reason, Zoey cracked a smile.
Nothing in particular.
Read 1:36 p.m.
...
Sinternik was now on the screen, speaking with reporters outside his mayoral office in Goldenrod City. He spoke cautiously of his tight lead over Adalet, acknowledging it would be a close race, before making his final pitch.
"I recognize voters have a challenging decision ahead of them today," he said, "but I would implore them to think deeply about, not only who has the country's best interests at heart, but who has the experience and knowithall to carry those interests out."
"Do you believe you're that person, Mr. Sinternik?"
Sinternik grinned. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have ever run," he said.
It was easy to see why Sinternik held such mass appeal. He was charming, and Goldenrod City had done well under him. Plus, after the disaster that was Greg Abel's campaign, Sinternik was able to fall back on his experience defending Alice Caden as evidence of his support for women. Adalet didn't have something quite as solid to which he could point.
"Hey!" Candice latched out onto Zoey's shoulder from behind, almost causing her to cough up her own drink in surprise. "Sorry it took me so long. You ready to go?"
"Y-Yeah," Zoey said, wiping her mouth and managing a smile.
"You know who to vote for now?" Candice asked. Zoey again glanced at the broadcast, where Sinternik was still speaking.
"Yeah," she repeated.
The line outside the polling place wrapped once around the building, but luckily, it seemed to be moving fast. Very luckily, because extended periods of time in sunny weather prompted complaints out of her girlfriend, a true-blue Snowpoint City native.
"Ugh," Candice groaned, cupping a hand over her eyes and squinting, "I should've brought sunglasses—and a tank top."
Zoey had to roll her eyes. "This isn't even bad," she said. "It's November."
"I'm sweating."
"No you're not."
"No, really! Feel my hand! It's super sweaty." Candice promptly grabbed one of Zoey's hands in an effort to demonstrate her grievance.
"Your hand is not—" Zoey stopped mid-sentence and deadpanned. She had caught onto Candice's game. "Ha ha, you're so slick."
Candice looked proud of herself, saying, "You fell for it, though, didn't you?"
"Uh-huh," Zoey drolled. They nevertheless continued to hold hands as they moved through the line, even when Candice pulled out her own phone to check her Chatot. They followed most of the same people, so Zoey could guess what would happen soon.
"You and I should take a selfie!" Candice suddenly announced.
Yup. She'd seen Georgia and Trip's photo.
"Yeah?" Zoey asked, craning an eyebrow in amusement.
"I mean, if you're okay with it…" Candice coyly went on. Zoey had to laugh, and she held Candice's hand a little tighter.
"Sure," she agreed.
Candice was utterly delighted and immediately switched from Chatot to her camera app. Pulling Zoey in close, she held the camera before them and flashed her most winsome smile. Zoey smiled, too; though she was fully aware she could never match her girlfriend's photogenic charm, she could at least try. It took several attempts before Candice was finally satisfied, and they pulled back apart while Candice opened up her Chatot again.
"Is it okay if I tag you in it?" Candice said, looking at Zoey for her permission.
Zoey knew why she was asking. For years, they had sequestered their relationship from the eyes of the world at large, for reasons Candice couldn't fully understand but was willing to respect. For someone who worked in the news media, Zoey knew she was awfully cautious of it—and for good reason, she would argue. Kyle and Barry's relationship had fallen apart after Coordinators Weekly published their photos; Iris and Cilan's devastation after losing their first child was broadcast across the nation; Wallace and Winona were dragged through a media circus the first time they dated and broke up; Nikki Martinez published articles judging whom among the nation's couples were the best and brightest. The media's spotlight could be brutal because it was so powerful.
But then again, that kind of power had given her and Ciara the ability to shed light on Junia Stevens's past and inform the world of her dangerous campaign to end their nation's new democracy before it had a chance to begin. And standing there in that line to vote, Zoey realized that maybe she had been a little unfair—to Candice, and to her industry. Ciara had pointed out that it wasn't her or Coordinators Weekly who ruined Kyle and Barry's relationship. It was Kyle. Similarly, it wasn't The Sinnoan Times or the Hearthome Chronicle that ruined Junia Steven's campaign; it was Junia Stevens herself.
If she and Candice were to fall apart, it wouldn't be because Nikki ran an article about how a Top Coordinator turned renowned journalist was dating a gym leader. It would be because Zoey had sabotaged their own relationship through her fears and insecurities.
But they had nothing to hide. Zoey—she knew she, personally, had plenty to hide. But her and Candice together…
"Yeah, it's fine," Zoey answered, smiling. Candice grinned, tapped a few more letters on her phone screen, then sent off the Chat. Zoey's own phone vibrated with the notification that she'd been tagged. She opened it up just to see what it said: "Out here in line to vote with my favorite star reporter zoey_williams! Say hi if you see us."
Zoey's chest swelled, and she, holding Candice's hand again, cast a furtive glance toward her girlfriend, who was still busying herself with checking out the rest of her Chatot feed.
They soon reached the doors and were able to cross the air-conditioned threshold, for which Candice was immensely glad—and, by extension, Zoey too. It was only then that Candice finally let go of Zoey's hand as they approached the front table, which was being tended by an elderly woman.
"Do you have any trainer IDs dearies?" the woman asked.
"Yes, we do!" Candice said in a near-melodious manner, brandishing her ID. Zoey, meanwhile, reached into her bag to find her wallet. She opened it up to find her ID—but her blood ran cold when, after running her fingers through the pockets of cash, memberships, and other badges that her trainer ID was absent. She must have mistakenly left it at home in Snowpoint City.
"I—don't," Zoey admitted.
"Oh, that's all right," the woman quickly reassured her as she moved to the laptop she had in front of her. "Your name?"
"Zoey Williams."
There was a flash of recognition in the woman's eyes, and she slowly lifted her gaze over her laptop to get a closer look at Zoey. Zoey was used to this for many reasons. After she won her first Top Coordinator title, she became familiar with the adoring gazes of Super Contests fans, younger coordinators especially. After her involvement in the 2002 G-Men conspiracy, she became familiar with the questioning eyes, the looks of suspicion, the sense of awe.
But this—this was different. It was not idolization or distrust in this woman's expression. It was something more akin to respect. And that was when Zoey realized that this woman recognized her for her byline and not anything else.
The woman lowered her eyes to the screen again.
"And your date of birth?"
"May 14th, 1985," Zoey recited.
The woman typed the date into her computer. "Yes, here you are," she announced. "Okay, I'll get your ballot printed off."
Candice peered ahead to catch sight of what program the woman was using. Then, falling back on her heels, she grinned at Zoey and said, "Looks like the G-Men's database on trainers was good for something after all." Zoey managed a tepid laugh in response.
The printer whirred to life, and Zoey's ballot came warm off the press. The elderly woman scanned Candice's ID into a reader, and her ballot was soon the follow. The woman then directed them toward two individual voting booths.
Candice bounded with excited resolution into her booth whilst Zoey slow-walked the trip as her eyes scanned the ballot. Once in the privacy of her own booth, she laid the ballot down ahead of her and stared at it. It was utterly straightforward. Two choices: Mitchell Sinternik or Erol Adalet? The political season had began with seven, but they had either quietly tapered off or disappeared in a roar of scandal.
Zoey had told Candice she knew how she was going to vote at the café. She hadn't been lying. At the time, she thought she did know. But now that the decision was before her, she found herself thrown into doubt again.
Who should she vote for after everything that had happened? Sinternik, clearly! He was even-headed like Tom Waylend, the other popular candidate before he dropped out, and he actually gave a supposed damn about women after the business with Alice Caden and #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt.
But there was much else at stake. This was a brand-new democracy. This was the new beginning Junia Stevens had extolled throughout her campaign. It was a far different vision from that of Stevens, but the newness of it all reminded Zoey that it so easily could have been Stevens. It could have gone so wrong. It could still go so wrong. Whoever she chose—whoever the nation chose—they would have to safeguard their democracy from backsliding into the nepotic authority with which the League had governed for years.
Sinternik—he could do that, couldn't he? He hadn't spoken much on it throughout his campaign. That was Adalet's torch to bear, and despite every reservation Zoey harbored toward him, he had had beared it well.
Ciara Skelley, perhaps strangely, suddenly came to mind. At the start of all of this, Zoey hated her. She hated what had happened to Barry, and so she hated her. She refused to let go of her anger; Ciara hadn't made it easy, but it was her own stubborn nature that had stalled what would eventually become a phenomenal partnership—a partnership that, Zoey believed, played at least a small part in protecting their budding democracy.
And now, Zoey realized, she was still refusing to let go of her assumptions. She did not like Adalet. What happened nearly a decade earlier, it had soured her opinion of him. But that was the thing—it had been almost ten years. What was she preventing? Was she denying her country, herself, something greater? Was—?
In the midst of Zoey's inner turmoil, she stopped and realized she had already marked Adalet's name.
A brief surge of panic came over her. It was in pen; there was no way she could erase it. She wondered if she could ask for a new ballot or just ultimately decide to opt out—crumple it up and throw it away, casting the fate of their country to the will of everyone but herself. She'd already done her part, hadn't she?
And then she relaxed. No, she wouldn't throw it out. This was her decision. And she would stand by it.
She stepped out of the booth with ballot in hand. Candice was already outside, feeding her own ballot into the counter. Seeing Zoey, Candice grinned and gestured got her to come over. Zoey managed a smile, too, and joined her. She slipped her ballot into the counter after Candice.
Dawn had called a week or so earlier to announce she (and Paul, though Zoey suspected it was all Dawn) were hosting a get-together on Election Night to watch the results come in, and Barry and Lucas and Kenny and Leona were coming, and oh, wouldn't she and Candice come too? Of course, Zoey had answered without any need for consulting Candice, whom Zoey knew would fall over herself at the opportunity to see Lizzie. She was a year and a half now, and walking. She talked a little too, but like her father, she seemed more reserved with her words.
Her father's lap was where she resided, and like everyone else, her eyes were glued to the television screen as the polls were now closing in Sinnoh, and they could expect the results to start pouring in at any minute. Lizzie could not possibly grasp the significance of what was happening, but the suspense was impossible for even her to ignore.
"How long do you suppose it'll be before the polling locations start to report their numbers?" Leona asked, casting Paul a side glance.
"How would I know?" he gruffly replied.
Leona craned an eyebrow at him. As one of the newer members of their inner circle—she and Kenny had made their relationship official only a couple months before—she still wasn't well-versed in the Language of Paul, and it was easy to misread him.
"Oh, I dunno, 'cause you're the Champion?" she suggested.
"I had nothing to do with the election commission," Paul grunted. "It was independent of the League."
Leona sighed, "Nevermind."
Dawn shot Paul some sort of warning expression, and they made eye contact. Paul's expression did not change, but he adjusted Lizzie on his lap and directed his attention to the screen again. She then smiled and looked back toward the rest of the group.
"Well, since it might be a while, does anyone have any drink requests?" she asked. "We have lemonade, chai, orange juice… I think we have some champagne, too." She looked at Paul for confirmation. He gave a small nod. Dawn returned her attention to full group again, adding, "Maybe we can break it out after we put Lizzie to bed."
"Ooh, yeah, I'd be down for some champagne," Lucas said. He had been leaning far back into the sofa cushions, his arm casually hanging near Barry's shoulder, but he now straightened up. "And, you know, we might have a need for alcohol later depending on how the night goes."
"Champagne is supposed to be a celebratory drink," Zoey pointed out.
"It can get you drunk just the same," Kenny said.
"Exactly," Lucas said.
No one had shared any details on whom had voted for whom, so there wasn't much in the way of telling who in the room was pulling for Sinternik or who was pulling for Adalet or who was just pulling for a miracle. So however the "night went" may very well have meant different things to different people—and so when the champagne came out, its purposes might be different, too.
"All right, I'll save the champagne for later," Dawn agreed before disappearing into the kitchen.
The first polls started to report. Sinternik held an immediate, though marginal, lead in southern Sinnoh. Dawn brought some assorted beverages back, including some warmed milk for Lizzie. Bit by bit, she drained the drink until she eventually let it fall by the wayside (luckily, Paul caught the half-empty bottle before it could hit the ground and spill). Her eyes were still locked onto the television screen, though she was starting to blink and yawn.
The majority of Sinnoh still wasn't reporting by the time polls closed an hour later in the Indigo regions. Lizzie was nodding off by that point, so Dawn acquiesced to taking her to bed.
"These ought to be the big indicator, I think," Kenny remarked in regards to Kanto and Johto. "Adalet's Kantoan, and Sinternik's Johtoan, so if Adalet polls better in Johto…" He trailed off, then realized his error and added, "Or, uh, if Sinternik polls better in Kanto… that'd be a sign."
It was impossible to predict. What wasn't impossible to discern, now, was for whom Kenny had cast his ballot. The choice perhaps surprised Zoey. She hadn't spent any time theorizing how her friends would lean, but she supposed she had assumed they would lean away from Adalet. Then again, Iris had said nearly all the Champions had been swayed to personally support him.
Zoey cast a furtive glance at Paul. His expression was, as usual, difficult to interpret, but he seemed at least somewhat intrigued by what Kenny was saying. So maybe Iris was right, and Paul did favor Adalet.
By the time Dawn returned, nearly 50 percent of both Kanto and Johto were reporting while Sinnoh still stood at a measly 18 percent. Sinternik and Adalet were neck-and-neck.
"Sheesh," Barry remarked. "These pollsters gotta pick up the pace in Sinnoh."
When Hoenn's polls closed, the Indigo regions were at 89 percent reporting, and Sinnoh was only at 36 percent. The middle areas of the wintry region—Hearthome in particular—had yet to report anything. Adalet now held the marginal lead over Sinternik.
"Are you sure you're not supposed to do anything as Champion?" Leona asked. "Why is Sinnoh moving so slow?"
Paul shrugged.
"Aren't you worried?" Leona pressed.
"No," he answered bluntly. "It's not my concern."
Leona was clearly unsatisfied with his response; Zoey watched the exchange carefully then cast her eyes about the room, noticing that others seemed ill at ease as well. Barry was tapping his foot impatiently; Kenny was twiddling his thumbs; Lucas's relaxed position on the sofa had stiffened; Dawn looked at her husband as if on alert.
Zoey suddenly felt Candice's hand slip into hers. She glanced at her girlfriend, who gave her a nervous smile.
Paul must have sensed the rise in tension across the room as well because he straightened up and continued, "Look, I'm fully confident in the election commission. We spent months figuring out the details and how to make it independent of the League. I'm not worried. If you called Leaf, I doubt she'd be worried either. Sinnoh is a large and heavily populated region. It's probably just taking more time to count the ballots."
His reasoning (and invocation of the ever-agitated Johto Champion's name) quelled the fears of his company—for now. Even Zoey found herself releasing tension in her shoulders. This election was so important, too important, and Zoey had not spent more than a year of her life dedicated to its protection for something to go wrong now, so Paul's words were well-appreciated.
Hoenn was moving slower than Kanto and Johto, though not quite as slow as Sinnoh. Within twenty minutes, 16 percent of Hoenish polls were reporting. The margin between Sinternik and Adalet remained about the same, with the latter only slightly ahead. With polls in Unova another forty minutes from closing, Lucas, with Dawn's help, scrapped together several decks of cards and suggested they play Pounce. They cleared the table in front of the television and paired up (Dawn needing a partner was the only way Paul would ever be roped into play) while the results continued to pour in.
"See if you can find a seven of hearts in your deck," Candice said in a low voice to Zoey deep into the third round. "I have an eight, nine, and ten, and then we'll be out."
"I'll see what I can do," Zoey agreed in an equally low voice.
Lucas laid out a ten of spades, and both Paul and Kenny dove for it with an eleven. Paul won.
"Oh, fuck you," Kenny glowered at him. Paul shrugged him off.
"You guys wanted me to play," he said.
"No, Dawn wanted you to play because she knew she'd win if she had you on her team," Kenny corrected. Dawn smiled wryly in response while she continued to tab through the remainder of her and Paul's deck.
Overheard from the television: The polls in Unova were closing. Zoey found the seven of hearts Candice wanted, nudged her shoulder, and laid it out. Candice gleefully followed up with her three-card combo and shouted, "Out!"
A collective groan emerged from their opponents. Lucas gathered the cards back up and split them between himself and Leona to sort them.
"I didn't do too hot that round," Kenny informed Leona. "I had eight cards left in my deck of 12. I could've gotten moreif someone hadn't beaten me to the ten." Paul blatantly ignored him as he received his and Dawn's cards back and started to calculate their score.
"I got a lot out from the rest, so maybe we'll break even," Leona said hopefully.
As Candice counted their cards, Zoey glanced at the screen again. Already, 10 percent of Unova was reporting; 53 percent of Hoenn was reporting; 96 percent of Kanto and Johto were reporting; 41 percent of Sinnoh was reporting. Sinternik had pulled ahead of Adalet again. Zoey frowned and looked away, but her eyes briefly met Dawn's. She had been watching the screen, too, and she was also frowning. After catching her eye, Dawn looked down and refocused her attention on the game.
Zoey pursed her lips. She supposed it made sense if Dawn voted for Adalet. If Paul supported Adalet, then it was reasonable for Dawn to support him, too.
Lucas found the sheet on which they were keeping score. "All right, so who earned what?"
"Fourteen points for us," Dawn said with a smile while Paul shuffled the deck.
"A grand total of one point for Kenny and I," Leona said, fanning herself. "At least one of us did our job well." Kenny pushed his shoulder against hers, and she laughed.
Barry finished counting his and Lucas's cards.
"How many for us?" Lucas inquired.
"Negative eight points," Barry said, grinning.
"Hell yeah," Lucas said, and they high-fived. Zoey exchanged a quirked smile with Candice. They were a good match for each other, Lucas and Barry; and for that matter, so were Leona and Kenny.
"And how about our lovely winners?" Lucas asked, looking at Candice and Zoey.
Candice grinned. "Twenty-seven points."
Lucas whistled, then started to do the math.
"All right, so… that puts Zoey and Candice in the lead, barely, at 52 points. Close behind in second are Paul and Dawn at 50 points. Kenny and Leona are at 31. And Barry and I…" He paused for dramatic effect. "Negative four points."
"Hell yeah!" Barry repeated Lucas's earlier sentiment, and they high-fived again.
An audible gasp halted their celebrations. It was Leona, and she was pointing at the television screen.
"Look—a huge chunk of Sinnoh just reported, and Adalet jumped way ahead into the lead!" she said with a breathless excitement.
Everyone did look, and they were taken aback. It was true: Sinnoh had suddenly jumped to 87 percent reporting, and Adalet had blown past Sinternik by 3 or 4 percentage points rather than give-or-take 1 percent that separated the candidates.
"No way," Lucas exhaled, and then he grinned. "That's gonna be pretty tough for Sinternik to overcome at this point, wouldn't it? Almost all of Kanto, Johto, and Sinnoh are reporting, and half of Hoenn's there, too."
"It depends a lot on Unova at this point," Paul agreed. It was now reporting 16 percent of its votes.
"So if Sinternik can't earn back votes in Unova…" Candice started slowly.
"Adalet will win," Zoey finished for her.
The gravity of her words impressed upon everyone in the room. The game was cast aside, and the group's attention was fully devoted to the rest of the election coverage. As the percentages reporting started to tick up bit by bit in Unova and the remainder of Hoenn, Zoey took a moment to glance around the room. Earlier, she had thought to herself it didn't matter to her how her friends voted, but now she was arrested by the very question. Kenny had outed himself as in favor of Adalet; Paul allegedly had supported him for a while, and Dawn seemed to be of the same mind; Leona and Lucas's reactions suggested they also were pulling for Adalet. That left just Barry and Candice.
Kanto and Johto reached 100 percent reporting. Hoenn had slowed down significantly, now having barely inched toward a 63 percent, and Sinnoh had again stopped almost altogether, sitting at its 87 percent. Unova, however, gradually climbed up the ranks to 25 percent, 30 percent, 35 percent…
"At what point can they call it?" Lucas asked. It took Zoey a moment to realize the question was directed at her as the journalist in the room, not at Paul the Champion. Everyone's eyes were suddenly on her, Paul's included.
"I'm not sure," Zoey admitted. "I'm not a data analyst. I can imagine it's getting close though. The chance Sinternik has to close in on Adalet is narrowing."
Just as soon as she said it, the anchor Brian Shriver's voice broke through the conversation with an announcement: "Breaking news: Due to an additional 11 percent of voting precincts in Sinnoh reporting, PNN now projects Erol Adalet will be elected as the first president of Napaj."
A collective gasp, a squeak—the latter was Dawn, and she subsequently slapped a hand over her mouth in shock. Then:
"YE-ESSS!" Barry screamed the word as he leapt to his feet and pumped his fists. After the initial winces and groans, there was laughter—celebratious, joyous laughter. It had happened. It had finally happened.
Soon, everyone was on their feet. Lucas, Barry, and Kenny were jumping around like their favorite sports team had won the championship; Leona pulled Kenny away briefly to kiss him. Dawn embraced Paul, then stepped away to embrace Zoey. As Zoey lifted her arms to reciprocate, it occurred to her that they hadn't even been this excited when Ash won the Championship.
But that was just the first step. This was the endgame.
When Dawn started to pull away, Zoey looked over her shoulder at Candice—and realized, with a stone-cold drop of her heart, that she was crying with her hands pressed hard against her mouth. It again occurred to Zoey that she didn't know how Candice had voted and that maybe she was disappointed. But then Candice dropped her hands, and Zoey saw that she was in fact smiling. These were tears of happiness.
She wiped at her eyes and quietly announced she needed a moment. No one heard her except Zoey—and she was the one who followed Candice out to the front porch.
Candice immediately plopped onto the front step and pulled out her phone. Zoey slid beside her, saying nothing, but rested her head on her shoulder, looking over Candice's Chatot feed.
From ritchiej: "Thrilled to have erol_adalet as our first president!"
From hoennprmay: "Congratulations President erol_adalet!"
From e4_georgia: "What a night. #NapajElection2011"
From garymfoak: "Hell yeah erol_adalet!"
From mctrip, with a photo of Adalet and Iris working together: "Congratulations erol_adalet. #NapajElection2011"
From haydenworks: "Democracy wins. #NapajElection2011"
The Champions were noticeably silent—a unified vow of political neutrality. The way it should be.
Candice started a new Chat: "Hopeful for the future tonight. #NapajElection2011"
After she pressed send, Zoey slid her hand over Candice's knee and asked, "You doing okay?"
Candice let out a weak laugh. "Yeah," she said, wiping at her eyes again. "Sorry. I didn't expect I'd get so emotional over it."
"It's okay," Zoey assured her. "It's a really big deal."
Candice didn't respond to her remark. Instead, she turned to Zoey and, looking more serious than she ever had in recent memory, held both of Zoey's hands in hers. "Thank you," she said with as much sincerity as she could possibly muster.
Zoey would have been touched if she weren't confused. "What are you thanking me for?" she asked.
"For doing what you do," Candice said. "I remember how much you didn't want to leave when Homa told you to cover Junia Stevens. But you did. And I'm so grateful."
Zoey stared. Candice had long ago made clear that she supported Zoey's career efforts and continued to repeatedly assure her of that support. But to thank her for it? Zoey had spent a year agonizing over what felt like abandonment, over what she felt like she couldn't give her long-time girlfriend… and yet…
"Candice…" Zoey started slowly, and then the remaining words just tumbled out. "I think we should get married."
Candice's eyes went impossibly wide, and she dropped Zoey's hands as she reeled back in surprise.
"What?!" she exclaimed. Zoey could only let out a nervous laugh in response before Candice continued, "Wait, you're serious? Like actually?"
"Yes, I'm serious," Zoey said. "I, um, don't have a ring or anything, but—"
"I don't care about that!" Candice suddenly tackled her with a hug. "Yes! My answer is yes!"
Zoey could have pointed out that she hadn't actually asked Candice if she wanted to marry her—she'd just suggested that maybe they should—but she grinned and laughed instead, choosing not to ruin the moment.
"He-y," Dawn sang a little as she poked her head through the front door. "I don't meant to interrupt, but we're about to break out the champagne—to celebrate!"
Candice immediately leapt to her feet.
"And we'll have two things to celebrate tonight," she said proudly. "Because Zoey and I just got engaged!"
Dawn's expression briefly faltered into a look of shock. "W-What?!"
"It's true!~" Candice said. Dawn looked at Zoey for confirmation, and she gave a little smile, shrug, and a nod.
Dawn grinned. "No way!" she said, running up to embrace both of them. "This is so exciting!" She then turned and threw the front door fully open, dragging both Candice and Zoey inside. "Guess what, guys?!"
"Dawn…" Zoey mumbled, embarrassed, but she forgot her now-fiancée was as every bit an extrovert as Dawn.
"Zoey and I are getting married!" Candice declared, stepping up.
Their other friends' reactions were much like that of Dawn's: Initial shock, then excitement.
"For real?!" Lucas questioned. "That's awesome!"
"Yeah, show us the ring!" Barry added.
"No ring yet," Candice said, fanning herself with her hand to demonstrate. Her tone indicated she wasn't at all bothered by its absence.
"Aw, lame," Barry grumbled, glowering at Zoey.
"Well, congratulations regardless," Leona said.
"I'll second that," Kenny jumped in. "Congratulations."
"And with that…" Even Paul, despite his usual gruff demeanor, spoke a little lighter. He popped off the champagne's cork over a hand towel, which he promptly used to clean up the spray. He then poured two glasses, which he immediately served to Candice and Zoey. "First, to the happy couple."
"And to democracy!" Candice declared triumphantly, raising her glass.
They could toast to that.
In the background, Zoey was vaguely aware that Adalet was giving his victory speech. Sinternik's concession would inevitably soon follow. But she didn't care to pay much attention to that right now. She was in good company, the best company, and she was warm all over—not just from the champagne, but from the feeling of Candice's hands in hers.
She suddenly felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket, and Zoey knew there was only one person who would call her now of all times. She pulled out the phone and found that Candice was looking at her, but she just smiled and nodded to her. And so, Zoey smiled too, took the phone, and stepped away.
"Hi, Homa."
A/N: Epilogue to come Monday.